My dear Family and Friends, 23 May
Oh joy, oh bliss, the dogs and cats come home tomorrow. It's been a long four months visiting them nearly everyday, but it's given us peace of mind making sure that they're well cared for and I'm sure they rather appreciated it too. I'm fascinated to see what their reaction is going to be when we walk them out of the cage and out of the building for once and for all. For the moment they don't even try to leave their cage if one inadvertently leaves the door open; that's their life and they don't step beyond it. Edgar may poke his nose out, but will leap back the moment you say his name. I think it's a bit like how Europeans perceived the world in the Middle Ages – it was flat and you would fall off the edge and be consumed by dragons and fire if you ventured too far away from home.
On the way to visit the animals one day last week, I was intrigued to see a pair of caravans camped out on an open piece of ground next to the road near the kennels. These are the travellers – I believe it's not politically correct to call them gypsies any more. They've put up a rotary washing line, an outdoor toilet, colourful flower boxes, kennels for their dogs, and generators to power their televisions and satellite boxes. Depending on the time of day (and the weather, of course), you can see them sitting outside in their camp chairs enjoying the sun and a natter. It seems they have everything for comfortable home living. And in a little while, just before the local council finally gets an order to evict them, they'll pack up and leave, and go and find another patch of grass somewhere else. This was our second experience with the gypsies. A couple of weeks ago, a group of 20-or-so caravans pitched in the park down the road on the banks of the river Avon. Apparently, there was a big horse fair and market being held nearby. I drove past the park in the morning and thought: That's strange, I didn't know they allowed caravans to park there. It was only when the local knock-and-drop newspaper slid through the letter box that we discovered they were gypsies (much to the horror of the local residents.) They made their home in the park for about 10 days and left before the eviction order could be finalised.
The major event of the week for me was an MRI scan on Tuesday to find out if there was anything fixable going on around my right ear. I've had tapping tinnitus in that ear for quite some time. It's really irritating and is triggered by a range of different stimuli. It sounds like something is tapping or scratching on my ear drum when it gets going. Coupled with increasing deafness in the ear it's really unpleasant. An ENT surgeon in Cape Town wanted to try and treat it with botox – it's very experimental, but there has apparently been some success with it in Germany. However, we left SA before he was able to research the exact method and it's been getting quite a lot worse. I was referred to an ENT surgeon here who tested my hearing again and also wanted the MRI just to make sure there wasn't a neuroma or any other nasties affecting the ear. He didn't like the botox idea. The MRI took nearly 45 minutes and all that it showed was that I did indeed have a brain. I was interested to note that the attending doctor and nurse at the MRI unit were both South Africans. The ENT surgeon has referred me the the NHS for a hearing aid. It will take weeks compared to the private service of the ENT, but it's free.
So, I have the near perfect excuse for the time being: “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”
Lucia says I have to tell you that I've become a sucker for “specials” and other discounted goods at the supermarket. As far as she's concerned, this is a radical departure from my past behaviour and she never imagined that she would see me hunting down the bargains. Back in SA, I tended to ignore discounts and sales largely because I didn't see the value in the offering. Either the discount was to slim to tempt me, or the goods on offer was the crap that people didn't want. I mean, does it really matter how cheap the crap is, it's still crap.
Here in the UK, however, I really can see true value in the goods they're trying to flog at a discount. If you can buy two bags of crisps, or two boxes of chocolates for the price of one, that's real value. There is also real value to be had in the bulk offerings. For example, a single Mars Bar costs around 32p. A pack of ten, however, costs around £1,42, say 14p each. A pack of 20 will set you back £1.98, that is, just 9,8p each. The result is that I tend to bulk up when I see a good special. For instance, I bought 10 litres of the cranberry juice that Lucia particularly likes the other day. I think the difference between the UK and SA is that the competition is far more heated between the supermarket chains here and the price variation between the chains is very slim. The other place to find bargains is in the “reduced to clear” fridges. By-and-large British people seem to be super averse to anything that comes to close to its “sell by” date and these are all dumped in the discount fridge. The thing is, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the produce so long as you cook it and eat it fairly soon. A leg of lamb for £4 or £5 is a bargain in anybody's book.
That's it for now. I'll take some pictures of the animals enjoying their first weekend of freedom and put them up in the usual place. (http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/llewellynijones)
Love, light & peace
Llewellyn
