Tomorrow I head off to Paphos General for my cardioversion, which - hopefully - will correct an irregular heartbeat that has become evident recently. I last had this done in 2009 and all seemed painless enough.
The lovely Dr Agamemnon, the cardiologist at Polis Hospital, was advising me about the procedure the other day. "They send you to sleep, then PZZT, and that's that. When you wake up, all should be fine. If it is not okay, you probably won't wake up at all."
What gallows humour ...
So a few days to recover, but far longer to recover from England's dismal showing in the Rugby World Cup. Four years was a long time to wait for a World Cup, and a further four years will seem like an eternity.
Becky S. has somewhere to live, a new job and things are finally looking up for her. About time too as it has shown the Welfare State in Hastings at its worst this last twelve months. I seethe with rage at the way the government finds money to help asylum seekers and refugees and cannot fulfil its legal obligations to its own citizens. Charity begins at home, doesn't it?