....................have respect for railway property!'
Laying in bed confined to rest I am waiting for the signals to change allowing me to leave the platform of Onslow Ward fitted with a shiny new catheter (can't fault the timing by these hospital doctors: 10 minutes before KO, 6 Nations, England v France and armed with KFC and a Boddingtons - least the property will be respected!)
After the the latest results of tests it now transpires that surgery is no longer viable for attacking the numerous thoracic compressions within my spine. The final efficacy of the completed radiotherapy remains in the melting pot but never the less means that at this moment I am in the capable hands of the physiotherapists and yours truly for any hope of getting back on my feet and walking again: The one place I dreaded reaching but at least I was not buried in the rubble of Christchurch, NZ or shot up and blasted by a despotic government in Tripoli. There is always hope and Chaka is still waiting by the front door at home ready with collar and lead. Furthermore Crystal's reminder sits poignantly on my bedside lest I should momentarily forget my band of angels waiting, not only driving chariots at Twickenham against France, but also ever present to carry me home!
The thoughts and prayers flow throw cyberspace to one and all even if the means to communicate more directly are somewhat curtailed by this freebie hospital internet access.