Life on the list

Here are some Things That Scare Me: 1. Being eaten by a crocodile 2. Tea 3. Needles 4. The witch I saw in a dream twenty years-ago 5. Burglars 6. Paranormal Activity To mind my, all perfectly normal, rational things of which to be scared. But here is another list: Things of which I shouldn't be scared, and wasn't until recently, but that now freak the bejeezus out of me: 1. Moving house 2. Home dialysis Regular readers will know that Home Dialysis has represented a shining beacon of hope for me these last few months and I would have chewed my arm off (the right one - I need my left arm for all the dialysis) for the chance to perform my own treatment at home. Well....it looks like it might finally be happening. I have had an offer accepted on a dialysis-machine friendly flat, and as long as the landlord doesn't bend me over and take me from behind in the next couple of days, I should be moving in within a week or so. I start my formal home dialysis training

If I were to dispense two pieces of advice, they would be this: 1. Drink lots of water 2. Never move house If you have ever dabbled with kidney failure, you will understand the necessity of keeping your renal organs hydrated and urinal tract spick and spam with a voluble intake of water. If you have ever moved house, you will understand that you should never, ever move house. Even if your current house is tiny, or damp, or burnt to the ground, do not try and move house. Even if the balliffs are pounding on your front door as your read, give them your TV, or your child, or your virginity, but do not, on any account, let them force you to seek new accommodation. I have been trying to move house for approximately nine days now...at least I think its been nine days, time stopped around day five and then the theme tune to Catchphrase  started playing on a loop in my head in place of cogent thought. It probably doesn't help that the reason for my move - as I have now explained to

Forget being the season to be jolly - apparently November through to January is the season for getting engaged. I have run out of fingers on which to count how many friends have recently announced their betrothal, although this figure is bolstered by people on Facebook I was at school with and haven't spoken to in seven years. They all count, ok? It is not surprising; Christmas fosters sentimentality and in the bleak, grey, January days that limp in its wake there is nothing like the prospect of a wedding to cheer the soul. My friends and I, now that we are waving goodbye to our mid-twenties, are also of age for this sort of thing: careers have been forged and homes made, so now it is time to get married and in a few years will shall no doubt be welcoming the first wave of babies, sticky, noisy little things that they are. The surprise has been my own reaction, for I have felt...happy. I have taken delight in every Facebook status, every text, every surprise birthday party tha