I’ve had two endoscopies to check on my coeliac disease. Neither was any problem and both were done without any sedative at all, as the first doctor explained, this was better in a lot of ways. In both cases I was able to walk out the hospital and drive myself home.
Every time though, I see a picture of Mrs. Brooks, she reminds me of the doctor, who performed the second procedure. It’s the hair mainly, although both are probably about the same height and build. But that’s probably as far as it goes.
I certainly know, who I would prefer to perform an endoscopy.
Pioz in Guadalajara has just 3,000 inhabitants, but the village has run up debts of €16,000,000 and at the current repayment rate will take over 7,000 years to pay the debts back. It all stems from a previous administration that built an elaborate water purification plant.
And then there was the €150,000,000 airport at Castellon near Valencia, which never attracted a single aircraft.
No wonder Spain and Spanish banks are in trouble!
This post was brought about by Danny Baker asking on Radio 5, if anybody had any stories about getting into football matches.
The spring after C died, I took a holiday in Italy, mainly to see if I could holiday by myself.
Whilst staying in Florence, I found out that Fiorentina were playing a home game against Livorno.
It was a bit of a performance to get the ticket, as I had to go to the cafe, opposite the ground and buy it from the owner. To do this, I needed a credit card and my passport. The latter was duly copied before the ticket was issued.
Before the match, I decided that it would be best just to take a few euros and the ticket, as I wasn’t sure, if Italian football crowds had the odd pickpocket.
When I approached the gate to get into the ground, I was approached and frisked by a steward, who demanded my passport.
As I didn’t fancy the long walk back to the hotel, I protested and finally decided to point to the badge on the Ipswich bobble-hat I was wearing, saying Inglesi repeatedly and loud at the time.
He forgot about the passport and I was let through.
That effectively means it’s all over, as you never argue with a bookie’s judgement. Read about it here.