FEBRUARY

Good Lord! There are no pictures in my camera for February. Therefore I did nothing of note in February. The camera does not lie. The only things I find in the camera are millions of pictures of Emma and Rick, a love that will last forever. However, it is now over and is not to be talked about. A nice enough lad who quickly found himself at home at mine. It is a very short journey from Hello, so pleased to meet Emma's parents, and I say, what a lovely garden and did you paint those jugs in that picture on the wall and what a clever use of the nuances of the light and after three weeks its feet on the coffee table and click with the remote control and get me a beer while you're up, parent chappie, would you. I think that teenage behavior is contagious. Went twice to the hospital for tests about my COPD (any disease of the lungs from asthma to cancer of the universe). The first time, I was asked to answer questions from a couple of girls who looked about 14 who were apparently training to be doctors. They looked up at me with their clip-boards and ball pens, and kept blushing and stammering and looking to each other for support. I confirmed that my breath came in little short pants, but it doesn't come over as funny in Dutch. They ran out of questions and stood looking at the floor and squirming as if they wanted desperately to pee. I said nothing for a bit, and then asked if I had adequately satisfied their thirst for knowledge. They ran away. The lady doctor came in and asked I had been unkind to them. She made me blow into things that made wavy blue lines on the computer screen until I was exhausted and totally outpuffed. The second time was with Adam for company and support in case of bad news. I had been called back because her colleague, a black belt in lung x-ray photos, had seen a spot where a spot is not normally seen. I wonder if they all get bored in the lung department and play 'spot the tumor' for fun. Old photos had been retrieved from other hospitals, and it appears that the spot has always been there. An old scar she said. What on earth gets into your lungs to create such havoc that it leaves scars? Pulmonary termites? Lung beetles? It was a much more interesting trip and good fun with Adam there as well. I had to clamber into high-tech spacey glass chambers and take deep breaths while many wavy lines formed in a whole palette of colours and lots of apparatus said ping and gdunk. There was neither good news nor bad. They always look at pages of data in astonishment, as if the fact that one has made it to the hospital at all is miracle. She said something reassuring along the lines of it would probably be alright and perhaps there was nothing to worry about just yet. I now have three different medicines with apparatus that needs blowing and sucking that I feel I shall soon have lungs like a small horse and may well apply for the brass section of Jan's Harmonie Orchestra. The Tuba has always managed to draw my attention.

Emma's baby has arrived and we have booked a weekend to England.
P.S. Why is there an advertistment for "Hot Sexy Photo Ads?"

Bye now.