It’s a jolly holiday... irony
My seven night holiday began yesterday, after working 63 hours last week and going on a 4 hour protest march in Cahors on Tuesday. I had worked on five different wards, finishing on the acute admissions ward.
We had a chap in the secure room who had received a message from God to entrap all the drug dealers in a local town using a drone to get compromising photos, following which, apparently, God had promised to make him Sheriff. He set off in his car at 170 kph and hit a tree, whereupon he got out and took all his clothes off before the rescue services arrived. In the A&E he escaped in pyjamas and bare feet, hitchhiked to a nearby village where he found shelter with a lady who didn’t know him, but lent him some clothes while she called for help. It was then decided that he might need some more secure care option. He is not really in agreement with this decision. He did manage to explain that he had left his dog in the boot of the car, dog has been rescued and is apparently unharmed.
Here I am, revolting. I already shared this photo on Facebook, sorry.
I didn’t feel tired after work and decided to drive to the Creuse yesterday morning. This was probably a mistake because after two hours I couldn’t see straight and was obliged to stop for 20 minutes and walk around. Dogs appreciated the break.
Refreshing scented tilleul tree.
I had persuaded myself that morning that finding a cute toad living in my tiny garden was a lucky sign, which I guess means that if you spend too much time among those who believe crazy stuff you start to think like them.
My lucky toad.
My big problem is my back, which is being incredibly painful. Once I got here I had to have a sleep, but the pain stayed the same. I took a Paracetamol last night and went to bed early, but this morning it was just as bad, and the fact that Marco had pooped extravagantly over the floor overnight meant that I had to start the by bending down. It was so painful that I was sick, which I didn’t expect. I googled the problem and they suggested that I should keep moving so I walked the dogs for an hour, without any noticeable improvement, I found a dafalgan codéine that expired in 2012, which I took and then, unable to find a comfortable position, I went to bed with a hot water bottle.
Haunted by the pain.
After an hour I felt well enough to go to Aubusson and pick up my boots from the cordonnier, and have a little wander through the centre ville. Now I am just sitting in the garden and feeling frustrated that I am not going to get much done. I fear that even sitting on the mower will exacerbate things, and moving stuff or cleaning is out of the question. I guess that my body is telling me that I need to rest.
This is the cordonnier, still the same, 20 years on!
This is the well inside Le Licorne bookshop.
Dogs don’t care if the grass is too long!
We had a chap in the secure room who had received a message from God to entrap all the drug dealers in a local town using a drone to get compromising photos, following which, apparently, God had promised to make him Sheriff. He set off in his car at 170 kph and hit a tree, whereupon he got out and took all his clothes off before the rescue services arrived. In the A&E he escaped in pyjamas and bare feet, hitchhiked to a nearby village where he found shelter with a lady who didn’t know him, but lent him some clothes while she called for help. It was then decided that he might need some more secure care option. He is not really in agreement with this decision. He did manage to explain that he had left his dog in the boot of the car, dog has been rescued and is apparently unharmed.
Here I am, revolting. I already shared this photo on Facebook, sorry.
I didn’t feel tired after work and decided to drive to the Creuse yesterday morning. This was probably a mistake because after two hours I couldn’t see straight and was obliged to stop for 20 minutes and walk around. Dogs appreciated the break.
Refreshing scented tilleul tree.
I had persuaded myself that morning that finding a cute toad living in my tiny garden was a lucky sign, which I guess means that if you spend too much time among those who believe crazy stuff you start to think like them.
My lucky toad.
My big problem is my back, which is being incredibly painful. Once I got here I had to have a sleep, but the pain stayed the same. I took a Paracetamol last night and went to bed early, but this morning it was just as bad, and the fact that Marco had pooped extravagantly over the floor overnight meant that I had to start the by bending down. It was so painful that I was sick, which I didn’t expect. I googled the problem and they suggested that I should keep moving so I walked the dogs for an hour, without any noticeable improvement, I found a dafalgan codéine that expired in 2012, which I took and then, unable to find a comfortable position, I went to bed with a hot water bottle.
Haunted by the pain.
After an hour I felt well enough to go to Aubusson and pick up my boots from the cordonnier, and have a little wander through the centre ville. Now I am just sitting in the garden and feeling frustrated that I am not going to get much done. I fear that even sitting on the mower will exacerbate things, and moving stuff or cleaning is out of the question. I guess that my body is telling me that I need to rest.
This is the cordonnier, still the same, 20 years on!
This is the well inside Le Licorne bookshop.
Dogs don’t care if the grass is too long!