I know, I know, don’t remind me, it’s been nearly 3 weeks since the last blog post on the 9^th of May but I haven’t been idle, believe me. I’ve written some utterly sumptuous and hilarious Substack posts in that time and I’ve made a pretty good start on the next Blessham novel.

Blessham novel? I hear you say. Shouldn’t that be an Ingleby one next.

Well, yes, by rights it should be but I’ve decided to throw convention out the window and follow my heart and right now my heart says Blessham. I had got a sizeable chunk of the next Ingleby book, featuring Archie and Aggie Stone, done, which was somewhere around the 15,000 word mark but I’ve shelved it for now.

I don’t know, I just wasn’t feeling it and the comedy wasn’t as good as its wonderful predecessor – Mutch Wants Moor, which, lets face it, is probably the best comedy novel ever written. And I want to do justice to the Stones as I have a very strong connection to them. Ahem!

I will come back to that one at some point but for now I feel the call to go back to the charming village of Blessham and when I’ve got that out of my system then it’s another visit to Ingleby. Ok?

So why is today’s blog post so named?

Without whinging I’m afraid I’ve got another ailment to inform you about.

Diverticulitis!

No, I hadn’t heard of it either.

It’s a digestive problem where small pouches grow on the wall of the colon and if they become infected they can cause a lot of pain. I think mine must be infected because some days I feel like asking the doctor for a colon transplant. Other days it’s just a gripey little nuisance but there’s not a single day goes by without it causing me some level of grief.

But, as I say, I don’t want to whinge about it because whinging gets you nowhere; only on everyone else’s tits. And my own tits are quite enough, thank you. No, I thought I’d just let you know the state of play. I had to endure a fair amount of ignominy before the doctor arrived at his diagnosis; something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Let’s just say that he was anything but gentle with me!

The brute!!!

I’ve sought a second opinion since and I’ve been asked to produce a sample of my leavings which has gone off for analysis and I’m seeing another doctor about it on the 9^th of June. Hopefully there won’t be any need for internal photography but that’s a distinct possibility.

I just hope they have warm hands this time.

Apologies to those of a nervous disposition if this is all too much information but we’re all grown-ups here aren’t we. And if you’re not a grown-up then you really need to seek your parent’s or guardian’s permission before you read any further.

Actually, it’s not that bad is it?

Anyway, what I thought I’d do, just for a jape, is to make a comprehensive list of my ailments, both past and present dating back to the root cause of them all. It may make interesting reading and I think it will be cathartic for me to get it off my chest.

Right then, here we go. These aren’t exactly in chronological order because I’ve forgotten the chronological order but it goes something like this…

It all began in 2003 when I contracted the SARS virus when for 24 hours my soul hovered between this world and the next. Seriously, it was a close thing.

Since then I have or have had…

• Encephalitis
• Myocarditis
• Pericarditis (no point having only one carditis, is there?)
• Depressive Anxiety Disorder
• Fibromyalgia
• Bell’s Palsy
• Cervical Spondylosis (literal pain in the neck)
• Vertigo
• Meniere’s Disease (hearing loss)
• Re-occurring constipation
• Pneumonia
• Diverticulitis
• And I once put an axe into my foot but that was an accident (or was it an axe-ident? Geddit? No? Ah well, please yourselves)

Quite the list, isn’t it? And they’re just the ones I can remember. There may be others.

Truth of the matter is that SARS made an epic mess of me and I’m still in a long-term battle because my body took such a pasting. The only one’s I can’t really blame on the SARS, for certain, is the spondylosis, pneumonia and the axe! Maybe the constipation as well but I’m still divided over that one.

Do me a favour will you; if you ever see SARS walking down the street please feel free to kick him in the nads for me. Of course, that’s not the reality. SARS is not a physical embodiment that one can deliver a swift toe to the goolies to. It’s much worse than that.

SARS stands for Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome and is a variant of the coronavirus, which is something you may have heard of. Basically a cousin of Covid-19. And I know exactly where and when I got it. I just can’t pinpoint the so-and-so that passed it on to me. But when I do…

…nah, no use crying over spilt milk.

Instead I make the best of my life, which I have to say has improved manifold since 2011 when I met my wife, soul mate, best friend and love of my life – Ange. She can’t make the illnesses go away but by heck does she support me through them. And lets not forget she’s had some pretty serious health issues herself in the last couple of years. It’s reassuring to have someone that caring in my life. I don’t know what’s going to be next to add to that list. Hopefully nothing but life is full of curve-balls and me and my lovely will face them together.

I’ll leave it there because at this precise moment Ange is baking a carrot, apple and sultana cake and I want to be there when it comes out of the oven and salivate over it for half an hour or so whilst it cools down enough for poor little Alan to have a piece.

Hope to bring you a Blessham update next time.

Until then x