5 star NHS treatment

I am typing this with my left hand, as, yesterday I had am operation to finally fix my scaphoid bone in my right hand. I have been waiting for this since August, so I was really glad to get treated. If you didn't know, this bust in March during a game of 5-a-side football. Since then I have spent months in various treatments before an operation became inevitable.

The gory details

I got to Southmead hospital in Bristol on Wednesday morning and was in theatre by 9.30. The consultant had previously explained he was going to put a pin through the two parts of the fractured bone and then graft some bone material from my wrist into the gap. However, I wasn't aware of the the need for both a local and general anaesthetic due to the pain from the graft, which would probably be greater. This was explained to me by the professor of anaethetics, who conducted this. He also recorded the procedure using ultrasound to demonstrate the technique of totally blocking the nerve to the arm inside the shoulder. This stopped all feeling and movement my arm for 18 hours. Thankfully, after this awkward procedure and making sure my arm was numb, they put me to sleep.

So, I woke up afterwards and was unhappy not to be able to locate my arm next to my body, as I expected. Eventually I found it hanging in a sling above the bed. I found the top of this contained a warm rubbery structure, which I eventually realised was my hand. A nurse was soon over to check my b.p. and make sure I was coming to. I was then fed painkillers through the afternoon and evening, happily watching the Lyon vs Liverpool football match. The drugs were so powerful I even fely sympathy for Liverpool as they were dumped out of the Champions League.

Unfortunately the anaesthetic block on my arm wore out at 1 am, and I quickly obtained tougher painkillers until the night-nurse resorted to morphine. Another side effect of the drugs was stomach problems, but the staff were great.
By morning the pain was controlled and I had some breakfast cereal frosted with codine. I am now appreciating the side effects of this drug, which I won't go into, but I was discharged at 11.

So, I am now out of hospital and hopefully on the road to recovery. I can only praise the excellent nurses at Southmead, who really cared for me. The large surgical team was also really impressive and came to visit me afterwards. Frankly, I am in awe of the quality of care I received.

Up Pompeii

Caecilius' house
'Caecilius est in horto (Caecilius is in the garden).' as it used to say in my Latin school book. In fact this is probably a picture of his garden, although after 1,938 years of neglect.
Caecilius' Atrium. Nice Mosaic.

Visiting Pompeii, I discover Caecilius was a rich banker with a very fancy house. He made his money from creaming off profits from sales of slaves and goods. More likely that 'Caecilius est in lupanar'(brothel), probably entertaining his clients spending his many denarii on showgirls much like modern executives. The pictures from which show services available.


Here is a view of the town's Forum with Vesuvius in the background, this is where C. may have transacted his business with clients. Maybe he also oiled the wheels of local democracy with the odd bribe here and there.


C. might have also have listened to one of the senate candidates giving speeches here, but probably a better way to get into power was to put on a show at the Amphitheatre. Perhaps pay for some Christians to be massacred by wolves or some gladiators fighting with other slaves. Sounds like a whole day of fun.

If there was no-one trying to spend their way into power or there was a credit crunch on, you might have to make do with some actors wearing silly masks rehashing old Greek shows at one of the theatres. Still, it was probably not as crap as anything starring Will Smith.

Caecilius' son Quintus was also regularly down at the 'Palastra', a men-only sporting arena where one would lob around discii or wrestle with the lads (all naked, of course). A sort of classical YMCA. Strangely, Quintus spent alot of time with his 'best mate'.
After this you might want to the Thermae (baths) and get any excess skin scraped off by a slave whilst experiencing saunas, cold rooms, baths etc. Then you can come out smelling fresh as olive soap ready for a long dinner reclining at home.

Camping in Wiltshire

A quick weekend away was spent in the wilds of Wiltshire, just outside Marlborough on a nice farm. In fact the main neighbours were these lovely ladies.


We got down to supper from the local Waitrose (nothing but the poshest) and told stories around the gas stove while drinking warm lager.


Talking bollocks around the stove.

The only other entertainment was admiring Shaun's modelling skills. Here he is posing in the LaCoste(R) camping style. This did not distract me from having breakfast though.

Anyway, back in Windmill Hill now after a quick trip round Marlborough's pubs.

Bristol Biggest Bike Ride

Congratulations to those of you who completed the 40 mile ride around Bristol and Somerset last weekend. Some of us were still in bed when you were having lunch, but we were still supporting your achievements horizontally.

Here is the picture of the athletes bathing in their glory afterwards. May your sore bottoms be soothed by our hungover respect. More pics at Bristol City Council website.

Banksy let loose at Bristol museum

A Super Whip please

The Angel of the North

After popping up Park Street and stumbling into the Bristol Museum, somehow avoiding any enormous queues, I was one of the first to see Mr Banksy's wanton vandalism of our local museum. This kind of thing really shouldn't be encouraged.



A nest of CCTV cameras
So this is how chicken nuggets are made

A local scene - Hartcliffe in fact.
Venus - post facelift.
debate about MPs' expenses


Is that Paris Hilton?
escape from guantánamo - to clifton.
Flight to Eygpt - children 1/2 price.
Media Hype - first man with broken right hand to view exhibition.

The new house

Lots of people have been asking for photos of the new place, so here is a sneak preview.

Please feel free to come over and visit us, we have plenty of space now; as opposed to putting people up on the floor of our living room when we lived in the flat. Last weekend we had Lou's family over for her sister's birthday, and had a cracking time lounging outside in the heat.


Right now we are trying to plant out herbs and salad in the garden. As there aren't many beds, we are buying lots of pots. The back garden is a sun trap, so hoping for a good tomato harvest.

The Black Mountains

To escape from the hard labour of constantly putting up curtain rails and painting the new house, I organised a get away to the Black Mountains. We rented a cottage up a valley with a log fire and mainly sheep for company. In fact, we now understand the phrase 'Welsh Bingo'.

We spent most of the daytime walking up the neighbouring valleys and taking in the views and disturbing the wildlife. We even managed a good 15km walk whilst I got sunburnt. Despite this being a bank holiday weekend, we were remote enough to avoid nearly anyone.
Get orf my land!


For supplies, there were some shops in Crickhowell, which Lou spent plenty of time exploring. This left me the chance to lazily watch Crickhowell Cricket Club from a park bench whilst 'guarding' the food supplies.

Glorious Devon at Easter

It's when travelling around on a spare weekend that you remember there are plenty of places here that are as marvellous as anything that can be found travelling round the world for months. Devon is a regular weekend trip, as Lou's mum lives there and she was brought up in Totnes (properly). But sometimes we forget just how good it is. We seem to be be blessed with good weather on most of the trips there, which certainly helps. Here are some pictures from around Totnes this Easter.

Dartington Hall and Gardens is a nice walk from Totnes along the river Dart. On the way you might see a train going by on the Dart Valley steam railway. This weekend there were plenty of them.

This Easter, the gardens were in blossom. One day, our own garden might look this good, but it'll be a while yet.

The other way, down the river, we caught the sun outside the Inn at Dittisham, where some old rockers were spoiling the tranquillity of the Dart estuary with some noisy 60s covers.





Local Totnesian at station, circa 1950.

Well, back to Bristol now to work on the new house. Lou's Dad's dog is snoring downstairs so it must be time for bed. By way of a contrast, here is a car that someone set fire to in our back alley a few doors down last week - a bit different to the country living we have just been experiencing in Devonshire. More pictures from the new place later.