Bay Watch 2

Bulletin 2: Tuesday 19th January, 2010

Bert and Joe are supine: they are either asleep, or staring at the ceiling, or dead. Doris has been 'disappeared': she was wheeled out last night and replaced by Edna. Edna disturbs the peace of the Bay by incessant talking and whinging whenever a member of staff is present. She's waiting for a pace-maker to be fitted. Gentle suffocation would do the trick.

I have been visited by Dervogilla Howard: do not be alarmed, my condition remains stable. A young man with an ear-ring mops the floor. Edna complains to him that she is feeling dizzy. Like me, he shows little interest.

Great progress: I have been disconnected from my cable and can wander around my bed, but no further. As a treat I can travel to the loo by wheelchair. This will be far preferable to urinating into a recycled egg box, euphemistically referred to as a 'bottle', but vulgarly termed a 'piss pot', I believe. I look forward to seeing how Edna will cope with one of these.

I'm not pleased with Joe. He woke me at 5.20, activating his buzzer to request a 'bottle'. Sounds similar to those of a gently babbling brook broke the nocturnal silence shortly thereafter. I hope, for the sake of the staff, that his penile dexterity has improved. Talking of which, I've just overheard the male nurse - a bit of an Essex boy - asking colleagues how to spell 'penile'. He must be writing up his notes on Joe, or possibly Edna, who has now been sick over her bedclothes. Bert is now upright. I think he's staring across at me, but I can't be sure.

The DVD, watched in the company of Celia and Helen, tells me that eventually I must exert myself for 20 minutes three times a week. Sex counts as exertion. "Too much information", my daughter opined. Anyway, I'm open to reasonable offers, preferably from females and preferably pretty ones. An Irish visitor expressed a preference between sex and driving fast cars, but since I'm not sure whether what I've already written in this paragraph will make it through the censors, I'll not tempt fate further. Didn’t the Irishman say to the chiropodist, "My fate is in your hands"?

Since this is my second cardiac vacation (my first was in February 1999) I'm being taken to Papworth tomorrow in the hope that the experts can sort out once and for all what my pump problem is. I won't be sorry to see the last of Edna and Bert in particular.