The thing that started it was Sunday. Linda and I went to the Tower Café. It's basically how it's described - a little café on top of a tower (I don't know what the tower is for, actually), and you get a great view of Gothenburg. We had raspberry pie with ice cream and custard (or vaniljsås, as the Swedes call it) with come café latte. Then we had a little walk by a nearby beach, because it had been a remarkably nice sunny day.
Then we went back to Linda's, the plan being that she picked her work clothes up and we go back to mine, as I was catching a plane on Monday morning (more on that later). It was by pure chance, then, that I was in the kitchen and I heard Kittypoo meow. But, it didn't sound like it was coming from inside the house, so I leant over the kitchen window, and there was Kittypoo, outside, looking up at me. "Oh God," I immediately said to Linda, "Kitty has fallen out of the window," to which Linda ran down the stairs, picked him up and brought him back in.
He was in bad shape - Linda lives on the third floor (or second floor if you count the first floor as "ground"). He was limping badly, trying not to put pressure on his left hind leg; his body was twisted slightly, he was in shock and very "distant". Linda immediately phoned her boss to say she was having Monday off, and we looked after him the best we could. (I went back to mine briefly to pack my case, but came back.)
Linda took me to the airport on Monday morning and went back to the house. After all of my travelling to England, I got an SMS - Linda had taken Kittypoo to the vet, but he had to be put down. Linda was in tears and I felt useless because I was in England. She knew I had to go and was fine with it, but still... you know what I mean.
So... Kittypoo has passed away. I know I called him a little git and pissed on his head, but he was still Linda's pet, and the poor thing had to go like that, injuries because of a long fall.
Anyway... the reason I was in England was that I had a business meeting. I was there from Monday to Wednesday - it was a flying visit and I didn't get a chance to see anyone at all - not even those in London. It's a shame that I didn't have time, but hopefully soon I'll meet up with the gang again. I didn't particularly like the journey either - just felt "rushed", and because Linda was hurting, that didn't help either. But Linda had a conference in Stockholm too, so she's away until later on tonight. I got back at 9:30 last night, much to my relief. I went to see if Åke (Linda's big cat) was ok and spent a little time with him.
My mum phoned me earlier too. She was hoping to wait until my birthday (which is tomorrow), but she had to tell me that John (my step-dad) had had an angiogram - that's where they use a camera to check your arteries. It was lucky they did - John has two bloked arteries, so only one was working. He could have had a heart attack. So, they've kept him in and are operating on him today.
They have two choices, depending on where exactly the clogs are: implant a couple of stents, or bypass surgery. A stent is a plastic tube that acts like an artery. They would open up the clog, and put the stent in there, to keep the artery open. The alternative - bypass surgery - well, you know what that is, so we're hoping the stents will do the trick -- especially because John was supposed to be having his eye operation next week.
As previously mentioned, it's my birthday tomorrow. It will be no surprise if I find myself at the Kville Biljard in the evening
. We will probably go into town on Saturday, too, just to keep the celebrations going. Linda has promised to cook me "English" breakfast on Saturday and Sunday mornings too, which will be nice! (That's bacon, sausage, eggs, beans... actually it's technically called "London Fry-up" because Full English has a few other bits.)So, happy birthday (glad födelsedag) to me for tomorrow. This may sound a bit "grumpy old man", but I'll be glad to have something else to focus on, after this pretty shitty week.
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