Aw Diddums

Today just disappeared – do you know that feeling? I got up so full of energy and things I meant to do, and only did one or two of them. After supper I was very sleepy and didn’t even want to go out in the gusty cold twilight to bring my washing in. So it will have to stay out for another night.

I thought I hadn’t seen Spiderman 2, but it turned out I had, so I surfed the channels (whimpering disappointedly) looking for something else. There was MASH, which Mum likes, but no subtitles. I ended up on Frasier, which we both like, and that did have subtitles… I would have whimpered even more if it hadn’t.

After a couple of shows went by, we had the following conversation (or how it seemed to me):

Mum (in a matter of fact voice): “Good, you’ve stopped groaning.”
Me (surprised she was talking about that when Frasier and Niles had been keeping me quiet for the past while): “Oh. Why?”

My brain has just got stuck in a sleepy tangle… will wake again in a minute.
…
…
…
…
…

OK, the rest of it went something like…

Mum: “No, I said…”
Me (struck by sudden doubt): “oh wait… what did you say? Did you say I had, or I am?”
Mum: “I said you were.”
Me: “But I wasn’t….? I haven’t said a thing.”
Almost immediately, as we kept an eye on the TV, yet another commercial began, and I let out a gusty sigh.
Mum pounced. “What do you call that?”
“That’s not a groan. That’s a sigh. It’s because of all those commercials.”
“Hmm. We shouldn’t be paying for Sky when they put so many on.”

Then we saw part of QI… sometimes it’s not very good, but tonight it was funny. Alan Davies said he saw something run across the snowy winter backdrop behind them, and Bill Bailey said it was a Velociraptor. (How do you pronounce that? Do other people let that trip off their tongues as a matter of course? I’m impressed). I thought Alan was just joking, then something streaked across the snow again, quite far away. The people on the show missed it and were determined to see it next time, so they all sat staring behind them, waiting for something to happen. One of them (probably Alan but I’m too sleepy to remember) said “the little things matter.”

I was laughing so hard that my throat hurt – it was a strange feeling. I would start choking if I kept it up, so I stopped. That’s what happened last time I laughed that hard, which was…. erm…. months ago! I can’t remember what was so funny then. Might even have been QI.

How often do you laugh really hard, and why? The other day the TV happened to be on and I was watching something that looked like You Have Been Framed (but wasn’t). You Have Been Framed annoys me enough, but this thing was awful. Nothing was funny. Some things were upsetting and others were very normal… there was a clip of somebody falling over on the skating rink. He didn’t cause a pile-up – he just slipped and fell.

I got up and went to find Mum (who had left this dross playing on the TV) and said to her, “they are really scraping the bottom of the barrel… they must be desperate.”
“Oh, if it’s that thing,” said Mum, “it’s dreadful. They send in films of things happening to people which are meant to be funny, and they’re not.”

I’m surprised I’ve managed all this … I’m too sleepy to finish it properly. Night, all. No falling out of bed or videotaping it. I fell out of a bunk bed once…. had to avoid squashing one of the cats, who caught me by surprise, so I fell out instead.

Sleep tight.

Noontime naps were due
To kittens’ early rising
Now I sleep alone

Caedes comments came
Following silence: “great pic!”
Site must have asked them

Won’t always oblige;
Sure they were happy to find
My picture pretty

Broke a toe again
By stumbling over a shoe
No one’s fault but mine

Aw diddums, earache!
Whole jaw of tooth pain would be
Much preferable…

Brought it to its knees
With efficacious drops of
T.C.P. magic

Dog ran after cat
Ancient leather collar broke
Thank goodness for walls

Took kitten for walk
Came an icy springtime wind
She trembled and cried

My stories seem dull;
Wondered if these condensed lines
Would make sense at all

No cause for concern –
Overnight this will not be
A blog of haikus

Samson was hanging about yesterday, wondering why I wasn’t giving him any meat for his lunch. I stopped doing that when I realized Delilah had the squits. We thought it might be better if we gave them more dry food during the day, followed by meat for supper and a treat at bedtime.

Samson doesn’t like the new plan.

Normally he hangs around when he’s hungry, occasionally tugging at my skirt or patting my leg, blinking up charmingly. I told him he had cat kibble in his bowl, then ignored him.

All of a sudden there was a pain in my leg as something leapt up without ceremony, digging claws through the thin material of my slacks. He was off balance and started to teeter backwards, digging in his claws. I couldn’t get my hands free to support him, as they were trapped under him and I didn’t want to throw him off balance even more.

Finally he toppled off, and ran away because I was howling.

Rrr.

Looking at the puncture marks in my leg, it could have been worse. There are no raking scratches, and I think he did his best not to hurt me too much – another cat would have made much more of a mess.

Today I have a jersey draped across my lap, just in case. Usually I had a rug there for the same purpose, but was forgetting.

It was his turn to be hurt early this afternoon. He was playing with Delilah, and the next time I looked at him, one eye was closed. I went up to talk to him and he still didn’t open it, but I saw a slight line of red on his eyebrow, quite close to his eye – definitely a scratch.

After lunch I went to talk to him again, and he cracked his eye open slightly – a short while later he was walking around with both eyes open; seems to be alright. I gave him meat for lunch just to cheer him up and take his mind off it.

It was a nice bright sunny day but it’s clouding over now. I’m glad we walked Thundercloud early while the sun was out.

Something I keep wishing we had is an automatic treatment unit in every house. I probably read about something like this in Ringworld by Larry Niven. Every morning you could step inside, and it would scan for irregularities and make any adjustments necessary. Cracked tooth? Repaired without pain or extraction. Furry arteries? Sweetly cleared. A tumour just starting to form? Safely zapped in seconds.

No need to worry your family with these mundane details – they’re carrying out similar checks and changes on themselves.

Broken bone? Beautifully straightened and set without pain. Poor hearing? Tuned to perfect pitch! Failing kidneys? Repaired, as good as new!

No need to go to hospital, sit for hours in waiting rooms and have tests… only for the doctors to say they don’t know what’s wrong with you, or they do know what’s wrong with you and can’t fix it, or they thought they knew what was wrong with you but got it wrong.

A treatment unit in the corner of your own bedroom would be lovely from an agoraphobic point of view especially – not having to go out to the GP, optician or dentist. Fewer people milling about in buses and on the roads (not having to go out to be treated). And just think – no more valuable land given over to grim hospital buildings and sprawling, expensive car parks. No more people catching superbugs they wouldn’t have caught if they hadn’t gone near those places.

I suppose it would be worrying if the technology really was that good, then one day you stepped inside your treatment unit and it said “sorry for any inconvenience, but you cannot be repaired.”

Imagine a society which has evolved beyond our current laws and adds the option of self-euthanasia. “You cannot be repaired. Your heart will self-destruct in 66 hours, unless you choose self-euthanasia.”

Panicking, you click on Y, and it says “are you sure?”

Some weeks later, it is realized that your treatment unit had a bug and wasn’t working properly. The engineers responsible are being sued to the hilt, but that’s no comfort for your grieving family and friends.

That sounds more like real life…. unfortunately.

3D Art

I was about to write this blog post when I noticed a new wallpaper come up on my desktop. I closed the browser window to get a better look. I’m glad I did as it made me sit back and smile – it’s this glorious winter mountain wallpaper from a Caedes member.

Not everybody will like it as much as I do, and I stopped to think about it. I don’t feel the need for every picture to be ‘real’. Real life is so full of soft shades of grey (along with browns, greens and unseen detail) that it seems to me too easy to get lost in it. A 3D scene like this is crisp and vibrant; everything just so, and there’s not much ‘in between’ to get lost in.

It could be that it is clarity, simplicity and a form of realized idealism I yearn, and that is why I like 3D art.

Convalescent Cat

It’s the first day that Sharky’s seemed anything like normal after his trip to some scary hidden grey unknown in the landscape out there. I was apprehensive even before I posted my last post of 2007, announcing confidently that he hadn’t been well but was getting better.

Part of me believes in the concept of gremlins – not gremlins as such, but the feeling that if you say “everything’s fine,” something will happen to make that a lie.

I knew he was still quite ill.

The day after his trip to the vet he looked even more bleary, if possible. I got a bit scared when I went up around teatime to check on him – he was tucked up very tightly, his coat open and staring. I carried him downstairs to sit with us, and gave him tuna to tempt his appetite.

Slowly he perked up.

Today he was looking a lot better but still sleeping a lot. He even popped out through the cat flap to have a look around, but within seconds he was back indoors. He must have felt that freezing edge in the air. They’re talking about snow, and the clouds had a strange pink quality. There was no ice on the ground during the day (it was rainy), but Mum saw hail coming down after it got dark.

Sharky has accepted turkey and Carnation milk, and seems to be past the worst – touch wood.

This morning I was sitting with him on my knee, staring bleakly out of the front window while he gazed bleakly out of the back. Mum chuckled suddenly and said she should take a photo of us moping together.

What I was thinking was that I’ve broken a molar and don’t want to have to go to the dentist to have it taken out, but there’s no alternative. Rrr.

Tooth Pain Versus Ear Pain

I’ve never been as pulverized by toothache as I am by earache. Mum said “just you wait, you’ve not had the real deal yet – a really bad toothache will send pain right up your cheek to your eye.”

I don’t think I’ve had it that bad, but last night I was getting a cold pain up the back of my jawbone to the joint, and along the side of my chin. It woke me up at half past four and I couldn’t get back to sleep. It still doesn’t hurt me like earache, which stabs me to the heart.

Anyway, I was trying to cheer Sharky up by letting him know he wasn’t the only one in misery. I rubbed my cheek and pointed at my teeth, saying ruefully “ooch, something has to be done about this,” and he smirked sympathetically. That cat knows what I’m saying.

I just know when I make an appointment to have my tooth out, that very day we’ll get snow about two feet deep.

Still Got My Cat

Well, all the blogs are buzzing about what happened in 2007 and what will happen in 2008… I’m just glad that the last day of 2007 isn’t to be remembered for the unexpected demise of Sharky – touch wood! (Remembers the desk is fake beech and scrabbles about with increasing panic till she finds an old-fashioned wooden ruler).

Embarking on 2008 without my feline friend – not to be thought of.

I wrote in Small Contretemps about his adventure… how he disappeared shortly before bedtime and only reappeared around teatime the next day – cool to the touch, thirsty, hungry and smelling of somebody’s outbuilding.

After drinking, eating and sitting on my lap for a while, he curled up on the sofa to sleep – and there he stayed for two days, blinking at us blearily. He got up occasionally for water and a lick of food, but it’s shocking how thin he became in the time!

Trip to Vet

We took him to the vet today. On the whole I felt that Sharky was probably alright, but I sat in the waiting room getting horribly panicky, thinking “Ireallyreallyreallydon’twanttoBEhere!” Then I would catch Sharky’s doubtful “whattayoudragmeherefor?” eye, and smile comfortingly as though it’s all just a pleasant outing and we will be going home for lunch soon. I don’t know why I get so stressed about it but I suppose I’m not the only one. When I got home I looked in the mirror, and I was all pink.

Still, pink is better than grey.

The vet said she couldn’t find anything wrong; even his temperature was normal. She believes he caught a chill from his night spent in somebody’s frosty outbuilding, and is currently on the mend. As one of my cat clients said, “not the greatest weather for adventures methinks.”

When we got home, Mum looked at Sharky in the back seat and said “you old fraud!”

Maybe I worried too much, and all it was ever going to be was a slight cat chill, but I looked on the internet last night and it was going on about pets drinking antifreeze (they are attracted to the stuff) and their kidneys packing up in two to three days. I imagine the same thought crossed the vet’s mind; she asked if he was vomiting.

My answer was ‘no’, thankfully – but these articles do get you worrying. While we’re on the topic, it seems that products made with propylene glycol are safer than antifreeze. Even if you don’t have pets yourself, it’s a good idea to mop up any spills. It’s always worth double-checking your sheds and garages in case someone’s inquisitive kitten has slunk in behind the watering can – especially in very hot weather, very cold weather, and just before going on holiday to Spain for three weeks (or even two days).

Dogs at Vets

My sister said once that whenever she takes her cats to the vet, she suffers an uncontrollable urge to discipline other people’s dogs for them. There are good dogs and good owners, of course, you know you can rely on them, but at times you come across somebody who doesn’t seem to care about anyone else. There was a lady today with a small white terrier on a leash. She walked past us on her way out, with the dog angling towards Sharky… and I thought “surely she’ll pull him back – she’s not even trying to talk to us or anything, so there’s no reason to let her dog step into our cat’s space.” But she didn’t.

I really don’t understand that – it seems so inconsiderate. My impulse was to become the dog’s owner for a second, just to pull back on that trailing leash.

Trying to forget – wait a minute while I take a deep breath…

Photo Finish

I took these photos (see foot of blog post) after our trip to the vet. The door was wide open but Sharky likes cat carriers. He curled up and slept there for about two hours before coming upstairs for food.

He’s does appear to be getting better.

All the best for 2008 to all readers of this blog!

How to bypass your brain and get motivated is great stuff - I need to do something like this as I’m a terrible procrastinator. Well, there’s already some external structure in my life - if I don’t walk the dog (getting exercise) I don’t get paid. Meeting the family in town for coffee stops me from skulking at home thinking “I can’t be bothered to go to the bank today. I will definitely do it tomorrow. Unless it’s Saturday. In which case I’ll go on Monday.” And then on Monday morning I fall over and break my foot and can’t go anywhere.

That sort of thing always happens to me! At least if I know that I WILL be in town once a week to meet the others for a coffee, I can do my town-going things then. To make sure of it I tell them “after coffee I have to go to the bank,” and they factor it into our plans for the morning.

The other day I was reading a blog where someone said she had trouble even getting up for a shower, and she thought it might be depression. This sobered me as I’m just the same. Some days I stand in the shower with the water streaming through my hair, staring dully at the tiles. After about five minutes I realize to my consternation that I can’t even be bothered to soap myself! But you can’t stand shrivelling up in the shower all day, so eventually you creak into life and fumble for the shower gel and shampoo.

I don’t think it’s depression, as I’m not unhappy - I’m content in my own way. I’m happy with my family, my house, my pets, where I live. I’m happy with my work, though I could do with more of it. I laugh at what I read in books or see on TV, and I enjoy my hobbies, which have not turned to ashes in my mouth. If one day you couldn’t care less about things that you used to feel strongly about, you know you’re in trouble. I’m not in that place.

I just seem to lack energy and motivation.

The other day, out of the blue, Mum said “I think… in fact I’m almost sure… you have an underactive thyroid.”
I was so surprised I laughed, as I hadn’t been discussing my problems with her. But she said “I’m serious - it might explain why you’re so tired all the time.”
“Well,” I said, “I assumed that would be poor diet - eating too many convenience dishes from the supermarket, and not enough ‘healthy’ stuff.”
“Maybe,” said Mum, “but you should still get it checked out. It IS in the family.”

I went home and looked up ‘hypothyroidism’ on the internet. All of the symptoms fit, including apathy, poor memory, feeling the cold, dry skin (which could be due to hot shower and central heating?) and brittle nails. My nails are normally as hard as iron, but I broke three only the week before. They’re wishy-washy symptoms that could be due to other things such as poor diet and late nights, and I wondered at what point does one go to the doctor saying “I’m tired, cold, broke my nails and can’t be bothered half the time - am I ill?”

I still don’t know the answer to that question. I suppose I should ask the doctor what she thinks. My Reader’s Digest medical book warns that if I’ve got it and don’t treat it, I’ll lapse into self-neglect, coma and death. So I’ll go tomorrow. Or the day after. Or sometime next week - unless I’m busy.

On British TV the other night, I watched a show about ‘interior design crimes’. It scanned all kinds of things found in the average home, including sofa throws and collections on display. I would like to respond as follows:

(1) I live here – it’s more important to please myself than to please others. A non-offensive look is presumably completely neutral, with little to look at apart from large pictures of nothing and six books.

(2) When I lay out a collection of anything, it’s not so much ‘deliberate design’ as ‘being able to enjoy my collection’.

(3) Sofa throws protect sofas from cats. Have the House-Proud never seen the dark, hairy, grimy mark that can be left by a sleeping cat, or the mud and leaves tracked in from outside? If it’s a cold night and you can’t afford to put the heating on, a nice light fleecy throw (well, a clean one!) is quite snug.

(4) Bare bathroom floors can be dangerous when they get wet. I damaged my foot four months ago when I slipped on the wet lino in the hall. It cost me two months of dog-walking money and still hurts. Four Months Ago. Foot. Still. Hurts. (Edit Dec 2007: 21 months ago… not a lot of change).

(5) When you live in a shoebox, overhead storage space is a boon – even if you have to stand on your bed to reach some of the cabinets. Put blankets or thick sweaters in there – big bulky soft things which are needed only in the winter and which won’t crack your head open if they fall out – not that they’re likely to.

(6) The real problem with novelty CD racks and towers is that the CDs are always falling out. I wouldn’t waste time complaining about them… one day they’ll all be gone, and not because they appeared on any ‘design crimes’ list.

Some of us are just trying to live from day to day. It’s frightening how the modern designer would like to turn an ordinary home into an empty shell. I wonder what sort of effect that would have on charity shops, car boot sales and eBay – and indeed, many retailers? ‘Junk’ and bric-a-brac keep the wheels turning.

I wonder what we would talk about if we didn’t have our collections and shared interests? We would buy white paint every six months and order tasteful magnolia settees of wipe-clean leather (ones you can’t sleep on). I’m not out to criticize anyone else’s taste; that’s not my style. The minimalist look is airy and beautiful… but I love my cats, books, bears and snoozing on my big cuddly sofa. That’s MY style.

Never mind the Miracle of Birth – the Miracle of Healing is the one! Imagine if we couldn’t heal – we would be a mass of cuts, grazes and breaks, and probably wouldn’t live very long. I won’t remind you about acne either.

At last my injured foot is starting to feel like a foot again. I can go out for a couple of hours’ shopping without it blowing up like a hand of mini-bananas. Sitting in a cafe yesterday with Mum, she told me one of her friends is in hospital because she fell. She’s got damaged fingers, a broken wrist, wrenched shoulder and bashed knee. Sounds excruciating. Shortly before Christmas is a bad time, but isn’t that always when things go wrong? Or perhaps it just seems that way.

What threw me off balance is that I originally thought I had broken toes only, and would be back to walking dogs in a couple of weeks. Not until the days and then weeks crawled past did I realize the whole foot was damaged – lots of bruising with torn muscles and ligaments. Mum told her neighbour I wouldn’t be able to walk the dog again till after Christmas – that’s a 6 or 7 week healing process. It’s unsettling – usually you have an idea how long things are going to take to heal and sometimes it’s quicker than you think.

I suppose I should view it as a kind of holiday, but the loss of funds is not good. I’ve spent so much time at home that my whole outlook has shifted and I see everything from a different angle – a most disturbing sensation. And all of this is because I washed the floor. I should develop a new mantra. Dirt is good…

Spammers are tenacious. Here’s an illustration:

Almost ten years ago I was foolish enough to put my email address on my website. Worse than that, I had several different email addresses. One was for a giant grey mouse (stuffed toy) called Mou. Years ago I removed all email addresses from my site, including Mou’s. But the spam is still coming, and today I noticed one (in the trash folder, waiting for the delete key) with the subject heading Stock Tips for Mou. As it happens, Mou doesn’t live here any more – Mou has moved out and is staying with my mother. Mou would want me to write back and let these kind people know “Mou is no longer at this address” – BUT – I happen to know better than to communicate with spammers. Not that it’s really possible, as they have no real brains there to be communicated with. The light’s on, but nobody’s home.

Limping on from spammers, I took my broken foot to the doctor, worried by friends (and a website) who said that it’s a myth that a broken foot will heal beautifully without expert medical attention. Doc took all of two minutes to look at it and said just to carry on the way I was, because it’s healing. Mum (a retired nurse), who never advocated taking it to doctor, said “tell all your internet friends that mother always knows best!”

Well, I pointed out to Mum that the doc didn’t ask me to wriggle my toes, and he didn’t test the joint of the broken toe, which is where the break is – I think it will be OK; I have asked it myself to flex, and it does, but with a certain amount of pain. But then I told him loudly “THIS is the sore toe” and he knew better than to touch it! He said yes, it was broken, and he could see a sort of crumpled bruising along the ball of the foot, but everything seems to be fine. Carry on healing…

He admired my new suede fleece-lined boots with the pom-poms. They are split down both sides so it’s easy to get the sore foot in, and then you simply bind a suede thong round the leg. He said they looked soft and roomy yet supportive.

Still hirpling – we went to town but my foot got tired after a couple of hours. I bought it a pretty pink and blue sock made from a thick soft silky wool – it’s just for lounging around in. I bought one for the other foot as well so it won’t feel left out! Then I started on my Christmas hopping – er, shopping.

I wonder if Mou would like a laptop?

I mentioned earlier that I’ve been overtaken by bad luck this month. All sorts of little things are going wrong, including breaking my foot (and, just to add to the list, I’ve now got a frozen shoulder). In the end I dreamed I was sleeping in a hospital or some such place, and a woman came to kill me – I looked over my shoulder and she was pointing a gun at me, mouthing “you cannot live”. Interpreting this for myself, I decided that the woman with the gun personified my bad luck.

Out of curiosity, I then consulted a dream book. Under Assassin it says briefly: “misfortune will be yours.”

I don’t take this dream book seriously, having bought it purely for idle research purposes and entertainment, but this coincidence was food for thought!

I’ve had nothing but bad luck this month: toothache, bashed hand, Blogigo being hacked, stomach cramps… and, nearly two weeks after falling over a door lintel, I am still at home with a wrecked foot. I thought it would be better by now, but everybody I come across says “ooh, a broken foot – THAT will take ages to mend.” How is it everybody else knows about this? Maybe it’s something that happens to everybody at least once in their life, and you don’t know about it till it happens. The most recent person to commiserate in this way was a retired bomb disposal expert. Cheering!

Because of my forced inactivity, I can’t find much to say on my blog page. Currently watching TV and reading the Elizabeth H Boyer books. Today it’s The Elves and the Otterskin. I made a bear database for my mother to put her teddybear collection on. She managed 10 bears, then had to give up for the night. I did some editing work (foot supported on the PC tower). Slept on the sofa yesterday and didn’t wake till it was dark.

I dreamed that I was in hospital – one room to each patient. It was quite a comfortable place and I wasn’t very ill. I was sleeping in my allotted room but woke during the night to find a woman bending over me – I knew she meant me harm, but she went away because I woke in time. I tried to go to sleep again but was uneasy. Craning back, I looked through a glass panel, seeing the lighted corridor outside, and two women were standing there looking in. The glass was frosted and I shouldn’t have been able to see more than their fuzzy outlines, but to my great shock and fear, I saw their faces very clearly through the glass. One of them was levelling a small gun at me, and when she saw me looking, she mouthed “you cannot live.”

I’ve not looked up my Dream Book yet (ha) but it probably says if you dream something like that you will have a long and happy life. That’s nonsense of course – dreams are so personal, and they’re all about themes, hopes, fears and recent experiences. That dream has a lot to do with my feeling that I’ve had a run of bad luck this month – almost as though there’s a malign presence in the house that’s determined to immobilize me. The dark-haired woman in my dream was probably the Malign Presence personified in my thoughts. And yet it was me as well – how did I slip and break my foot? How did I end up with stomach cramp? Careless habits.

Meanwhile I’m back to waiting patiently for my foot to mend – all my days are the same right now. I have a verse in my head (from a song by The New Seekers) – I haven’t heard it since I was a child.

All my life’s a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls through the night time;
Till the daybreak comes around.

Today I had to clean up a bit of mess in the lino-covered hall and left it wet. Of course, next time I walked that way (barefoot and rather fast) I slipppppppped! Skidded into the wooden threshold of an open door, and fell on my knees. I leapt up in a fury, dried the floor where I slipped, and then realized one of my toes wasn’t working well. In fact it hurt. I think it’s broken in two places, and the toe next to it might be broken as well.

Well that wasn’t clever, and it wasn’t fun! I had been about to take the dog out for a walk, but it was out of the question after that. I didn’t really need to anyway, as he got such a fright when I fell down (screaming) that he did a puddle in the porch.

I cleaned that up as well (making a big thing of hirpling brokenly about) – then retired to my sofa to look up a family medical book. That was pretty stupid because I couldn’t find a single mention anywhere in it of how to handle fractured toes. It only discussed fractured legs and arms, and when I came to where it said “there might be damage to the nerves and veins” I felt so unwell I put it down and concentrated on breathing deeply, looking at my bears.

In the end, the toes seemed straight enough and the right colour, so I have just been resting. My mother said I can splint the broken toe by strapping it to the next toe, but – er – I reckon I’m just fine for now! Thank you very much. Cancelled appointment with dentist and read a short novel from beginning to end (Thebes of the Hundred Gates by Robert Silverberg). After that I watched TV – things like Monk and a show about the possible appearance of aliens if we discover an inhabited planet orbiting a red dwarf star. They seem to have populated this hypothetical planet with triffids (or something very similar). And “lurking in the pond is a killer – hysteria.” I couldn’t help thinking (rather hysterically) “First you tell us there’s no alien life out there, then you say we probably weren’t looking in the right places. I rather assumed you were looking everywhere – no closed minds.”

I wonder if I would really want to visit another planet only to be mugged by hysteria and any bacteria we don’t already have here. Well I’ll leave it to the pioneers. My bears and I will only visit when there’s a proper settlement and established vaccines. I could be the first pet-minder to look after a mudpod or a tame gulphog. One can dream – and it takes my mind off my broken toes.