Update

I've been wanting to find the time, inclination, motivation and words to update for a while... but the four never seem to arrive when I want them to, let alone together. Imagination seems to have done a bunk as well, along with all ability to stick to a proper CRON regime. Or, in fact, any regime at all, since I have rarely been in the same place for more than 48 hours for several weeks now.

So here I am, stuck in DTBIC land, which would be much more of the BIC if I managed to stop drinking as much wine as IC. Gah, as Bridget Jones would say.

Still, that's pretty trivial.

P's dad is in hospital right now, having undergone heart surgery on Friday. And he's not waking up, or rather, waking very very slowly indeed. Which is really, really concerning.

We've spent quite a lot of time at the hospital these last few days; it's the specialist centre for heart ops in the UK, so he's really in the best place. Well, I say we've spent time in the hospital. Personally I've spent it in the canteen with endless cups of coffee and books while P's family watch his father sleeping around the clock. And having spent time in the canteen, I have just been horrified, horrified, horrified by the catering available. I mean, here we are, in a hospital, and what can visitors get to eat while their nearest and dearest languish on their wards?

Sweets. Chips. Crisps. Cake. Biscuits. Fizzy drinks. Practically everyone who came in yesterday ate a full Sunday roast dinner. There were, admittedly, some unappetizing salad options and some diet yoghurts which I did take advantage of (and I bought my own salad box up with me yesterday), and there was some fresh fruit available. Now I know that people with their relatives in hospital really couldn't give the slightest what they put in their mouths; it's sustenance, it's comfort, it's something to do. But I wish that the hospital included, under its duty of care to the patient, duty of care to the relative. Because all they are doing by serving that kind of food is lining up the next tranche of cardiac arrest victims. :-( Just don't offer it. Take the crap away.

I know it's not that simple but it really upset me. Shoot me for a cold, callous, unsympathetic food nazi. Guilty as charged.

P's father, incidentally, is not, to my knowledge, ill now because of his diet in his past. There is a history of weak hearts in his family.

I just don't ever want to see P in his place.

I don't want to see me in one of those places. I won't get there because of the food. And I know why I will be there if I am. So why am I so hasty to criticise the bad food habits of others when I have terrible habits of my own? I know I have no right.

Hell. I just wanted to ramble. Move on please, nothing to see here.... That's if anyone is still reading anyway!