A Daily Diary of Disasters – At home with the Stratfordians


Message received concerning cardiologist. Now I wait.


Last night was a bit of a surprise. The whole tribe descended on us. I was expecting oldest offspring Anna and her wife and friend which was nice but the other lot turned up. Leigh (middle daughter) and her (4 of 6) kids and her main man. And as is to be expected with our lot there was a lot of alcohol consumption.

I’d like to apologise to next door  (when I see her) but to be truthful I’m avoiding her. It was all very noisy and shouty. What with the oldest grandson so inebriated that he was insisting on going home wearing odd shoes and amazing revelations to boot, what a night.

Anyway, I tried dancing which was OK until the angina kicked in and I retired hurt. But apart from that it was a very enjoyable and unexpected evening which to my mind are always the best kind. And it’s fantastic to be part of something you had a large part (ooer – missus) in creating.


After another week of inactivity due to an unleasant condition (breathlessness, mild angina etc), I’m due back at the doctors.  But before I do that a haircut and a stroll around town.

The hair because I’m starting to look like my mother and the stroll because I wanted to find out if there’s been any change with my symptons. (I have to admit that between appointments I’ve been er…taking it easy).

Hair done. Now for a walk.

Oddly enough, nothing. I felt fine. No discomfort, no angina. No nothing. Weird.

Anyway to cut a long story short, because of this development we (the doctor and me) decided we would see give it a bit more time and see how it goes. Possibly, what I experienced initially might have been some sort of panic attack, a build up of anxiety. A blip, whatever.

The doctor said he would be surprised if my arteries were furring up considering it was only three years ago I had my stents and the drugs I’m on should help keep me clear…but hey, who really knows.

Anyway, the doctor made it quite clear, if there’s a repeat episode then it’s a trip to see a cardiologist and tests.

To be absolutely honest, I’ll be very surprised (and puzzled)  if it’s not the cardiologist for me, but in the mean time I have to up my rate. I’m trying to aviod the word ‘exercise’ but basically instead of lying around too scared to do anything, I’ve got to get my arse moving and see what happens. Fingers crossed.

Wish me luck.


Second visit to the eye clinic. This time to check out the results of yesterday’s tests. And the ‘good news’ is my cataract is not as bad as first thought BUT I have signs of macula degeneration.  An age thing.

So far not so good. It gets worse.

The thing is, this referral to a private clinic was meant to save time and get my cataract seen asap, however, when she asked me if I had any allergies I answered honestly and said ‘Latex’ thinking nothing of it…


Seems the private clinic could not cope with that particular allergy and she had to refer me back to the NHS and the local hospital

Should take er…4 (that’s four) months!

07/06/2022. Falling to pieces.

Apart from the heart and as if that wasn’t enough, had to go to an eye clinic in Stratters today. Turns out it was a private clinic that the NHS has latched onto. I had to ask who referred me and it turns out it was my optician who wanted the state of my steadily ripening cateracts noted.

I had a field test and a photograph taken of the back of eye. Exactly what I had done last time I saw my optician.

Back again tomorrow to see an eye doctor. Groundhog day.

03/06/2022. Swap.

Spent some of the day writing comments (and annoying people) about how disgusted I am about the cost of the Jubilee. Especially now and the poverty of so many families. I’m sure her Maj is a very nice lady (the family – not so much) but really…

I was pleased to be reminded that ‘Jubilee’ in the Bible was a time of fair shares for everybody.

Yesterday we had a grandchildren swap. ‘The ‘stinky grandad’ one for the ‘Middle finger’ one. This one is a bit different insomuch I wont see much of him as he will be playing on his playstation (whatever that is) most of the day. When I do see him (at the fridge)  he will grunt and give me the middle finger. I have given up shouting about ‘good manners’ & ‘respect’. Times have changed. I would have gotten ‘the stick’ if I had dared do that to one of my elders.

I think I forgot to mention that I’m in big trouble. I let down the kitchen blind a little too fast and smashed one of R’s beloved tea pots. Lots of cursing eminating from Cornwall.

The Stratfordian

28/05/2022. BIG mistake

Taught ‘Stinky Grandad’ Grandson how to play bongos.

27/05/2022 (FRI)  Stinky Grandad and his quest for peace.

Looking forward to R going away for a few days to Cornwall with our daughter.  I was really hoping to having the house to myself . However, this is not to be.

My son and his son (the one who calls me ‘stinky Grandad) will be here. Actually, that’s OK because I can probably stay out of their way if I hide myself in the office most days. Don’t get me wrong I do love everyone very much but you know, sometimes just sometimes we all need a bit of peace and quiet. Even this stinky Grandad.


2022-05-22  Meanwhile the battle of the fruit trees (twigs) continues.

They are finally in pots and as per instructions should be away from the wind and in the sun (a bit like me really). However the arguments are heating up as to where they should be placed. My son and R have joined forces to keep my twigs away from their present pathetic collection of flowers and crops. But I am not defeated so easily.

I was up early this morning to claim territory and although it is outside the main postage stamp of a garden I have a space that’s reasonable.

The thing is they haven’t really thought this through. When my twigs become trees and they are burdened with fruit of every known species they will not be enjoying any. If need be I will eat it all myself.The Stratfordian    Alone & forlorn.


22/05/2022 Lego day

Sunday. Today we have the pleasure of one of our grandson’s  company. The one who calls me ‘stinky grandad’. The one that doesn’t eat as much as the other one., but whines a lot more than the other one.

That means today is Lego day. Lego everywhere. Underfoot. In the hoover – everywhere.  Pieces are going missing and tempers are beginning to fray. I can see where this is heading. Stinky grandad is  heading for his shed.

22022-05-21 This is my first entry in A Daily Diary of Disasters – at home with the Stratfordians.

I spent half the night trying to get this website back on line.  I had it all going nicely last week until the urge to fiddle about came upon me and I lost the whole fucking lot. The story of my life, I cannot resist fiddling about.

Anyway, after failing time and time again I think I’m back online…we will see how long this website survives, especially with the new hosts and the annoying jargon they insist on using. I say I’m back online but what I mean is so far so good but I haven’t made it public yet. I’m rebuilding…fingers crossed.

The Stratfordian’s paintings. Portraits.

What’s all this then?

Rising as the cock crows

The Stratfordian’s paintings: Abstract

A Word to the Wise Counselling Service

The Stratfordian’s Paintings; Landscapes & Figures

Hello…come on in.

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