#2,777

I have long accepted that diverse afflictions, enfeeblements and infirmities are simply part and parcel of getting old, and that ailments can be tolerated until they become in one way or another distressing. I cannot suggest, however, that denial and procrastination is a clever strategy. Ultimately a wicked eczema or psoriasis on the soles of my feet made walking painful, keeping me as good as house-bound, and this finally needed to be dealt with. The start of my seventy-ninth year seemed a propitious date for such an undertaking. The medic I consulted agreed, and had me whipped off to hospital for treatment which was, I admit, long overdue.   

Online again after returning home yesterday afternoon, I found 113 unread emails had accumulated and over a thousand RSS items were stacked up on my newsfeed vying for my attention. But, hey, it is the vernal equinox! And so I am marking the festival of Ostara by making mass deletions, effectively closing the two week gap and limiting my memory of Krankenhaus Schwabing to a recall of tasteless food, friendly carers, a telephone-addicted gentleman from Tamil Nadu as companion in a room as tall as broad (about 4.5 metres).

Medical care will continue with daily visits to me at home for the renewal of my dressings and my fervent hope is that the added discomfort of my lumbago will abate in due course.