It may by now be apparent to those wordly wise that I am new to blogging. Blagging is the nearest I have ever come to it; that is merely a play on words, and hopefully cannot be applied to these entries.
A dear friend upon hearing I was about to embark on this venture, thoughtfully sent me abook on How to Blog and I have dipped into it so I got the gist.
That is me all over, I'm afraid. .. Recipes, a quick scan through to check I have the ingredients, a quick zip through the method and off I go. (Ah, a moment of blinding insight as I write: I now fully understand my dearest's love affair with Charlie Bigham. Mmmm... salutary.)
Same with foreign languages: get the gist and then leave a trail of bemused foreigners in my wake.(The best I can recall was asking for a take-away chicken : let's say un coq pret-a-porter did not exactly fit the bill.) This idiosyncrasy has never bothered me unduly. However, the subject of the Bunion required some dedicated research.
This involved looking at other Bunion blogs. I have to confess that I looked at two and they so terrified me that I had to go to the rear entrance of the Temple (no, not for an enema), to that little teensy weensy wine bar round the back, remember?
When this operation was first discussed with my surgeon he described two options: a local anaesthetic, or a general anaesthetic. When he mentioned the first, it was on the tip of my tongue to say, "Are you having a larf?" Fortunately I am blessed with an inbuilt sense of occasion and respect for medics, so I nodded contemplatively whilst thinking loudly, "Not bloody likely".
Why on earth would you want to be AWAKE when somebody takes a saw to your poor wee Bunion?
Dear Lord, what sort of spectator sport would that be? What happens? Do they say, "Bite on this bullet, Madam, it'll be over in a trice?"
Seemingly one is given a sedative which keeps you awake but unconcerned. I have been told that it's like having several gins. Now that's all well and good, but do these people know what happens to me when I have a couple of Hendricks? The filter fails to work that's what. My innate disinhibition which my son likes to call it, might run rampant whilst under the influence..
However, further contemplation made me think seriously, for once, that maybe a local was better than a General and carried fewer risks. So that is what I have decided. It also reduces my level of anxiety in a stange way because if it can be done it this way then I could regard it as dentistry for my foot. (Dentists are fine with me... important to note.)
You'll notice the sentimental reference to the glowing carbuncle. It's just that my research took me via the Daily Mail website where I saw a whole inglorious line-up of celebrity bunions. Now these were bunions who were celebrities in their own right. Not their fault they happened to be attached to an array of beautiful, lean and famous women. These were pictures of feet that were seriously crippled being given an airing in six inch strappy instruments of torture. Those poor abused bunions.
I look down at my bijou bunionette with something resembling affection.
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