Wotcha, nights. Fast path to remission, Rosie.

[Rosie] May your treatment be effective and discomfort-free, and may your parking be abundant. Good luck.

(nights, Stevie, CdM) Thanks very much. It seems that prostate cancer among older men is, if not quite routine, at least quite common and the least harmful of all cancers unless it spreads, which is pretty rare. My cousin had it and died of a stroke, aged 84. The cancer was quite irrelevant.
(CdM) I don't think the treatment will be discomfort-free - may involve a catheter. Parking anywhere in the Greater London area is like the biopsy, a complete pain in the arse.

[Rosie] You have an admirably pragmatic attitude towards illness. I always do the man thing of ignoring a grumble, then eventually get off my arse* to see my GP, who then says "Oh, it's just a virus". Though, of course, one day, it won't be...

*apologies for any insensitive wording...

Is it spring yet? I haven't really noticed a change in temperature - I'm still vested.

[pen] Here it's bright as summer, cold as winter. It's spring.

(rab) Tell your GP that rabies is a virus, as are many other lethal lurgies. I know what he means, though.

Oh thank goodness this site is back. It was apparently down yesterday, and I thought Scotland had independented without telling anyone.

Soooo close to finishing writing the twice-yearly alumni magazine and sooo happy about it. On the other hand, I just had to cancel a trip to the UK because of an attack of the you-know-whats.

Irate tractor drivers? Poisonous micro-bats? Cheesed-off Dutchmen?
Whatever it was, hope they're gone now with no lasting damage.

Shot of the shits? Almost, but not quite. Bloody hell. I've lost a few kilos. Am I sure this isn't amoebic dysentery or some Dutch marshland parasitic invasion? No.

Low-lying coastal delta? Dengue fever for sure. Survival rate is quite good, though.

Which is worse, Dengue fever, or constant campaigning and voting?

Depends on how much pain you have in your cam, I suppose. It also seems to provoke a form of sleeping sickness that makes one have déjà vu nightmares.

It's King's Day tomorrow in the Netherlands; a national holiday in every sense of the word. For most Dutch people, it means a feverish plague of orange tat - to wear, eat and wave in the air, a lot of beer, and an all-pervasive soundtrack of oompah bands and bouncy pop tunes played through bad loudspeakers from every village street. (This is my experience of it in the previous 8 years of village life - it may be different elsewhere in the country).
But the windy miller and I will be heading to the windmill in Zeeland. I will take a pile of books, a warm blanket, and a big packet of sausages to cook.

It's cold where you are? So you and the Miller are going to have an under-the-blanket sausage festival up at 'mill? That sounds very sensible under the circumstances.

[Stevie[ I am too shocked to speak.
(As it happens, I made coffee for everyone, sat out in the sun drinking coffee and eating cake, cleaned the lav thoroughly - spider footprints all over the seat - and after a lunch of sausage sarnies, I went to sit in the car to read, and got through two-thirds of Jessica Mitford's autobiography 'Hons and Rebels', including an hour's doze. Lovely.)

My life seems to be all outings and jollies. It isn't - but as it happens I'm catching the ferry back to England tonight, the first time I've been back since last December.

Hooray - I will not die of prostate cancer. Just seen a specialist and they have a treatment plan all worked out (catheter not involved). It'll take a couple of years at least but there is a very high probability of then being totally cancer-free. Even if not, it can be monitored and re-treated and represents no danger.