The TV. Now with subtitles. Because according to our neighbours, our deafness (both The Girl and I can't hear all that brilliantly) is not exactly a public service. Oops. I suddenly sympathise with my father for the 10+ years we spent telling him that THAT TV IS TOO LOUD. NO, LOUD. NO, LOUD. NO... never mind.
I have an appointment with a private GP on Wednesday. This is after we spent about an hour ringing around, and around, and around to see if we could find a new NHS practice that would take us, and it was starting to look so difficult that we got completely despondent and exhausted. And then we heard about someone who has just found out that his rheumatology appointment is Sept 2007. And we said "fuck that, we're going private." If only we can get some advice on what the hell we should be doing while we wait around for that NHS referral, it would be something - but I might fit in one more consultation while I still have a HealthSure plan, before I leave my job. 'Cause, you know, a diagnosis and maybe some pain treatment would be a nice thing to have. If it's not too much trouble, of course.
I had coffee with the vicar today. He is wicked cool and we talked theology. I also rang my mother and ate chocolate. Tomorrow The Girl and I start a diet and a healthy eating plan, respectively, so I'm now ordering a pizza for dinner before I never get to do so again.
Project 365 days that I don't comment on here can be found at Flickr. They are, indeed, mostly of the living room. (This does not mean that The Girl is right. In no way.)
3 comments:
I tend to watch DVD's with the subtitles on - it makes it so much more relaxing to be able to not have to concentrate on understanding what people are saying - because if I don't catch something, it doesn't matter I can just read it, so I don't have to strain my brain to understand what they're saying.
It's perhaps a good job you didn't go see the RSC's Much Ado after all - you wouldn't have heard a word of it. I spent most of the play wishing there was a palantypist in the house. I couldn't believe that all except 2 of the actors in a professional production like that couldn't project their voices to save their lives. And the director had some of the actors delivering lines with their backs to the audience so you couldn't even lip read.
Tamsin Greig really stood out because you could hear every word she said perfectly, even when she had her back to the audience.
You would think that when it became apparent that when the actors couldn't project (presumably they were already contracted) that they'd have gotten hold of some radio mics.
You are Ruth Kelly and I claim my fifteen pounds and a rolled-up copy of the Independent thwacked across my brow.
Ooh, like the new look around here... Very smart! Here, have another chocolate...
Ruth Kelly? Ruth Kelly?? I'd be her if I was a political leader, sure... :P As for the Independent, I'll be thwacking you with the Guardian now, thank you very much. Ooh, chocolate...
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