Can there be a worse feeling than having no hope? Yes, there can. It is having hope, only to have it subsequently quoshed. You may gather from this that our much-anticipated payments have not yet arrived.
Actually there IS a feeling worse than this. The feeling that comes when one's trusty canine sidekick has just deposited an immense bowel-full of dog-eggs upon the pavement and one reaches for one's "poo-bag", only to discover a vast, gaping hole in the said bag. I, personally, have never experienced this horror. My partner has though - just last evening. Suffice it to say that she was not happy, although she was able to creatively use what remained of the bag to clear the pavement - but she didn't speak to me for several moments afterwards. I think that particular subject is, perhaps, best left there, in the red bin with the dog-eggs and the bag fragments.
Happily, our initial trials have been brought into a slightly more happy state by the arrival this afternoon of my partner's mother with a basket of provisions, in lieu of an Easter gift. We now have milk, bread, cheese, potatoes, carrots and some bananas - which will keep us going until we have some pennies to spend once again. Hurrah! We have already enjoyed a cheese sandwich and two cups of good hot tea.
Less jolly, however, is the reason why we were at home this afternoon in order to welcome my partner's mother and her gifts. I had to make an unscheduled trip to my surgeon's emergency clinic at two of the clock today.
Our day began uneventfully enough. We rose at the usual hour and I was happy to eat my breakfast and jump into the car to go to work. Within a mile or so of work, however, my partner had to make an emergency stop. For, on casting an askance look at me as we proceeded safely along, she found blood running in small rivulets down my snout, issuing freely from my right nostril (the 'black patch' side of my head). Actually, it wasn't just blood. Mucus (sorry) was also blended with my free-flowing precious haemoglobin.
Finding a safe place to bring our New Teal Megane to a halt, my partner cleaned up my snout and we concluded our journey. Unfortunately, the journey was the only thing to successfully reach its conclusion. The sticky blood continued to trickle steadily for the rest of the morning and my partner's alarm and distress increased in direct proportion. Steps had to be taken.
Aside from being a minor irritation (the trickling of the goo making my nose-glands twitch and the goo then dribbling down my tender whiskers), I wasn't particularly bothered about the affair. 'Tis true, I did have a rather nagging, dull, ache on that side of my head today - and that nostril has been minorly bothersome and the cause of some sneezing of late - but nothing to cause particular concern.
When the bleeding had not ceased by 1.00pm this afternoon, my partner telephoned her manager and took the afternoon off work. I was taken straight to my surgeon.
A thorough investigation was performed. There are two probable explanations. I prefer the first. It may be that I have either knocked my snout (I cannot recall such an occasion, unless I did it in my sleep - always a possibility) or sniffed up something which has become lodged in the nostril. For this scenario, I have been issued some tablets with complex instructions (but I don't have to worry about those - I just have to be a good boy and take my tablets when my partner gives them to me). The second, equally plausible, situation is that God has finally called out my number and it is time to row this little hired boat back to the quayside. It cannot, at this stage, be ruled out that a tumour may have formed within my nasal cavity and, if this should be the case, then there is naught that even the most skilled surgeon available could hazard in order to save me. I am to return to my medical practitioner in a week's time and then (or shortly after) we shall know all. Be encouraged though, dear friend, since taking my initial dose of five tablets some three hours ago, my partner is tentatively assured that the bleeding and other seepage has, for the moment, ceased to flow.
She has still passed several hours in frenzied gardening, however, to try and distract her from this latest trial to befall us. I almost pitied the remaining weeds as I watched her scrambling around our little estate... This barked, my partner is confident enough in my continued enthusiasm and vigour, buoyed up by my customarily eager consumption of my dinner, to agree to take me out for an evening stroll and swim - although, this time, she will be a little more meticulous over her poo-bag selection...
We will keep you posted with any nasal developments, should there be anything worthy of your notice, dear reader. But fear not - for I am not afeared myself; whatever the outcome may be. Oh yes - I fear for my partner - but never for myself...
And - I must just bark this before I head off out to annoy the wily beasties of the evening - please take a moment to visit fellow-blogger, Ann in the UP's, page (http://annjav.blogspot.com/2011/04/going-for-goat.html) - and be sure to leave a comment. Ann is donating 50 cents per comment on her blog until 31 May to Heifer International (a worthy charity which provides less-fortunate folk in third world countries with such things as a goat or a cow - something which a poor family can nurture and raise and which can then go on to help that family to have cheese, milk, etc. for themselves and as a source of income for many years to come).
My various tribulations are but minor niggles compared to the poor s*ds of this world who - through no fault of their own - need a bit of a hand to get their lives on track. Go on - leave a comment on Ann's blog - you KNOW you want to.... And when you've done it once - well, just pop back and do it again!
Until next time, keep smiling, my friend.