Busy days here are like buses.

I can go for weeks without any when suddenly … Wham!

It stared last Monday. I got a phonecall to remind me of an appointment with the eye specialist that I didn’t know I had. Well, I knew I had a specialist but the appointment was a new one on me. Anyhows my eyes are important in my book – I’m quite attached to them as I have had them since I was an infant – so I agreed to the appointment even if it was in the ungodly hour of eleven on Friday morning. Bugger.

The next couple of days passed by quite peacefully until Wednesday night when I realised that Penny’s arthritis tablets were nearly all gone. Being of reasonably sound mind I thought it would be handy to collect the prescription from the vet when I’m coming back from the eye hospital. I sent them an email and they confirmed I could collect them on Friday.

Yesterday we were discussing dinners and we decided it was time for another fry-up. This meant getting rashers, sausages and balack and white pudding. But we were nearly out of milk anyway so a stop off in the village was added to Friday’s round-trip.

Last night we were sitting quietly when my phone rang. It was Roofer phoning to say that he was worried about my situation and wanted to get the job done at the head of the queue. He announced that The Lads would be up to me between eight and nine in the following morning. Fuck!

So I set my alarm for half seven, got up out of a lovely dream and made a mug of tea. The Lads actually arrived before eight so it’s as well I had set the alarm. Sometimes I wish for the good old days when an builder’s eight or nine usually meant mid to late afternoon. Anyhows I shifted my car and they reversed their large van into the garden. Next thing I knew the house was echoing with the sound of boots tramping around the roof over my head and great sounds of destruction.

I left them to it and drove up to Dublin for my appointment. Lots of waiting sitting on hard plastic chairs in a corridor staring at the blank opposite wall. Then loads of poking, prodding and bright lights. The upshot of all that is that my eye pressures are still dropping so the danger of Glaucoma has receded. However she now reckons I have a cataract beginning to develop. Fuck! That means the prospect of an operation. We have put it on the long finger until next year anyway.

So I’m home now. The roof is still thundering with the sound of boots and heavy stuff being shifted around. There is a lot of drilling and I think I heard a blowtorch as well. I haven’t checked on progress yet as I’m too knackered after my trip

So hopefully things will quieten down soon.

My next eye appointment isn’t until January when a decision will be made about the cataract [if it exists].

The appointment is for Friday the 13th.