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I think they were desperate to get rid of me and the only way I could walk out of the place was with a new set wheels.
First day try out in Chichester, feeling a little self conscious to say the least, taking it carefully, and I was very nearly knocked off the pavement by some 80 year old granny overtaking me with one of these flash 4 wheel jobs, tutting as she passed.
I wouldn't have felt so humiliated, but mines a dull blue three wheeler with a zip-up plastic shopping bag, and hers was a pimped metallic purple, with seat and metal basket!
Sunday afternoon I was happily sitting at my computer when I felt a bit unwell, high temperature etc, so told Mrs Soap that I off to bed for a little rest. At midnight I was awoken by three people dressed as paramedics in my bedroom. It was like being in a carry on comedy as I watched them trying to attach a canula to my arm and strap a morphine drip on the chandelier above the bed. I just remember thinking what a strange dream I was having, and laughing.
Next thing I remember was waking up on what used to be called the intensive care unit of my local hospital and being spoken to by a cheerful young doctor. He told me it was five in the morning and I'd been brought in with pneumonia brought on in part to chest infections brought on by my low immunity due to chemotherapy. The doctor was asking about my breathing and what I would choose to happen if I was incapable of breathing without assistance from a machine. A real time stopping question and the first time I'd ever been scared of dying. I can't remember what, if anything, I replied, and since I've now been demoted to an Emergency Floor side room with an oxygen mask and varying drips, I'm presuming I've moved away from the question of turn me off or turn me on again for the time being. I also remember thinking I can't die because Ryorry told me that I wasn't allowed until Ipswich reached the Premier League.
Anyway oxygen and antibiotics seem to be working so I reckon I'm pretty much invincible and will outlive you all. By the way, how's our new manager search going?
According to some Waghorn and Garner have found their level in a league that stinks, and there is 'less pressure playing for a team with no expectations than playing for a huge club where even a draw is a disaster'.
Just seen the above show at the Arts Theatre off Leicester Square, probably one of the best shows I've ever seen. It was followed by a talk by the writers, Ian Hislop and Nick Newman, who then took questions from the audience. The theatre, due to my illness/disability/impending demise, upgraded our seats to the front of the circle, and refused to charge for my wife's ticket as she is my carer. Brilliant, and true, story about WW1 which I would thoroughly recommend.