The quilt of guilt

Picture from here

Building work has started on Discombobulated Towers, you should see the mess.  Predictably enough we’ve already run into a problem.  It turns out that one of the kitchen walls had been built on jelly or a plague pit or something else equally gooey and now has to be rebuilt.  Good start.

I’m happily ensconced at Sis No 1’s house for the duration of the building work.  I’m not so sure that Sis’s cat, Tuppence, is particularly happy about the ensconcing though.  Cyril (my three-legged monster cat) is being a thug, chasing Tuppence and stressing her out.  He is  an ASBO cat.  On the first day of our stay someone peed on my sister’s bed.  The jury is out as to whether this was Tuppence, Cyril or the Other-half.  Strangely, no-one seems keen on taking up my suggestion of DNA testing or calling in CSI Shrewsbury to unmask the culprit.  When we dropped the quilt off at the cleaners, we quickly exited the premises without mentioning why it needed cleaning.  The nice lady behind the counter will have a bit of a surprise when she opens up the bin bag containing the quilt.  I’m a bit scared about going back to collect it. 

I had my radiotherapy planning appointment today.  This involved a woman with extremely cold hands drawing all over my chest with a biro, running me through a CT scanner a couple of times and then tattooing me.  Now I’m all ready for the zapping process which will start in April and will mean a trip to the hospital everyday for three weeks.  Everyone assures me that radiotherapy is easy-peasy in comparison to chemo.  We’ll see.  I should think it’ll probably make me too ill to go to collect the quilt though, don’t you?