NOVEMBER 7 2014. Things happen.
Up early for 09.20 hospital appointment. As I shave phone rings. Stops before VR reaches it.
Check emails. Brother Sir Hugh rings with horrific news about Brother Nick, smothered in Alzheimers, 200 miles to north.
Bus can only take me halfway to hospital and I walk the two miles plus. Takes 50 min; I'm 30 min early. Consultant sees me ahead of appointment time.
To ensure my head stays still I must press forehead and chin against locations on eye-test machine. Afterwards I suggest locations are wiped because I've sweated. Consultant says sweating was good sign, shows I was concentrating, following instructions.
Consultant studies folder, says I must not drive any longer. Cataract op "within three months"; I agree to take any cancellation.
Just miss bus back. Kill time buying trivial magazine and slice of cooked pork belly.
Am unable to drive VR to life drawing class eight miles away; VR rings friend. We talk: I'll have problems with weekly appointment in Monmouth, 18 miles distant; must cancel family event in remote North Wales; there's weekly French in a small village. Should I go private for cataract op? Cost: £2480.
Book private op. Consultation in five days op another seven days.
Advance copy of Out Of Arizona arrives.
Sir Hugh rings with slightly better news about Nick. I say I can’t get to N. Wales. Sir Hugh, who is going, offers to pick us up, a horrendous dog's leg. He will stay with us night before and night after.
VR, back from life drawing, delighted about N. Wales. Doesn't see enough of Sir Hugh.
Dinner: pork with black-pudding stuffing. Drink bottle of Roederer champagne; miniscule bubbles a good sign. Individualistic taste.
Reminder: new (younger) gardening couple will review our garden tomorrow (ie, today).