Last evening we popped down to see how my daughter and her husbands new venture was progressing. They have just opened Glam & Glitz Boutique in Albert Road, Southsea. Since it was near closing time we all decided to go out for a meal. Albert Road is a great place to go if you are hungry. There are eateries catering for just about every taste imaginable.
We chose to try Aubergine, a small Bangladeshi and Indian Cuisine restaurant. 
What a good decision that was. There were six of us and we hadn’t booked. This didn’t phase them and very quickly they shuffled some tables and chairs and we were quickly seated.
I ordered a starter, “Luck Now Ke Seek Kebab” described as “Minced lamb with chefs own spices, coriander, cheese, moulded on to skewers” which was quite tasty. This I followed with “Juicy Gosht” which was effectively a lamb shank in a spicy sauce. My description is probably doing it a disservice but it is not on the internet version of their menu so I couldn’t plagiarise their description. However, it really was juicy and the meat was oh so tender. This was the star of the evening, and, ably supported by Pilau Rice and Bhindi Bhajee was a meal fit for a king.
Two of our family group kicked off with the the mandatory “Onion Bhajee” and two more decided to try the “Tandoori Champan”, which comprised “Tender of lamb chops marinated with fresh garlic, ginger and other spices”. For their mains two brave souls, including my wife, went for the Lamb Jalfrazi.
All agreed that the service was good, the staff friendly despite my introducing confusion by ordering a refill beer brand that they didn’t sell.
I would say that Aubergine stands out as one of the good restaurants in the area and I heartily recommend a visit. I for one will certainly be going back.
My daughters new venture seems to have gotten off to a good start. Now the hard work really begins. Just a few pix to show the new store……
It’s very foggy today.
Taking Gerry to work this morning we drove along the top of Portsdown Hill. No sign of Portsmouth or the Isle of Wight.
The view from my window contains many tree silhouettes and looks very similar to a picture we used to have on the wall. The only thing missing is the dark figures on horseback, looming out of the murk, their helmets glistening and spears at the ready. It’s amazing what ones imagination can conjure up.
Or, perhaps, it’s just the anticipation building on the run up to Season 4 of Game of Thrones……. ??
Winter is Coming !!!
‘Vile’ cyclist punches couple in road attack – Portsmouth News.
I have posted the entire article from the News.
This thug needs to be locked up.
A COUPLE attacked by a cyclist have called for the ‘vile’ man to be caught.
Lee Dyer and his fiancé were both punched in the face after getting involved in an argument with a cyclist while driving to pick up relatives from Portsmouth ferry port.
Lee, 46, is now in danger of losing sight in his left eye due to his injuries.
Police have released a description of a man they wish to speak to, who is 5ft 6in, in his 40s with mousey brown hair and stubble. The man was riding a red and white-framed bike with white-rimmed tyres.
Lee and his fiancé Lisa Elphick-Smith, 49, both of Outram Road, Southsea said they had stopped at temporary traffic lights near the Co-op at The Hard when they saw two men on bikes acting dangerously.
Lisa said: ‘They were terrorising people on the pavement, so I said “you’re going to injure yourself or someone else” and then he started yelling abuse at me.’
The couple then drove off, riled but thinking that was the end of of the matter.
But the abusive cyclist hadn’t finished.
The couple had to stop at the next traffic lights under the railway bridge in Ordnance Row.
Lee said: ‘There was a massive bang on my side of the window and before I knew it, my door was flung open and I was punched in the face two times.
‘Then Lisa jumped out and ran around the back of the car telling him to stop, and then he punched her the face as well.’
Lisa said she jumped back and avoided the full brunt of the blow, but still ended up on the ground with a sore hip.
Lee said a woman in another car accidently ran over the abusive man’s companion’s bicycle.
Lee said: ‘I’m not a small person – 15-and-ahalf stone – so then I put up my hands and said, “right, that’s enough now”, they ran off and I was left stood there covered in blood.’
Lisa, a nurse, tended to Lee’s injuries. She said he had a haematoma in his left eye and might yet lose the use of that eye.
She said: ‘He still can’t see out of that eye.’
‘I want this guy caught.
‘I want him put away because I think he’s absolutely vile, a menace to society.’
The incident happened just before 6.30pm on Saturday, February 22. Police have only just released details.
Anyone who witnessed the incident, or has any information should call PC Greg Meacham at Southsea police station on 101. Alternatively call Crimestoppers, anonymously, on 0800 555 111
Seems the folks in The Range have a strange concept of a saving. Spotted earlier today in their Portsmouth store
Weird cloud formations as seen over Queen Alexandra Hospital yesterday afternoon.
Update: Apparently this kind of formation is known as Mammatus, also known as mammatocumulus (meaning “mammary cloud” or “breast cloud”), is a meteorological term applied to a cellular pattern of pouches hanging underneath the base of a cloud. The name mammatus is derived from the Latin mamma (meaning “udder” or “breast”).
A Little Bit Of Patriotism – IFOS 2001, Royal Naval Dockyard, Portsmouth, England
Boque Escuela “Cuauhtemoc”, Armada De Mexico. Detail captured at IFOS 2001, Portsmouth, England
Monday was one of the longest days of my life. I was scheduled for a “Template Biopsy” which for the un-initiated is described thus …..
The template biopsy is carried out using an ultrasound probe which is passed into your back passage and samples of the prostate gland are obtained through the area of the skin between your scrotum and back passage called the perineum. The procedure is similar to a trans rectal biopsy which you will usually have had.
Let me tell you, from the recipients perspective, it is nothing like the TRUS (Trans rectal biopsy).
To start with my TRUS was carried out fully conscious by a specialist nurse, the lovely Vanessa. The main difference though is that I was in and out of the hospital within an hour or so. But that was 18 months ago or more.
Mondays procedure was to be carried out under general anesthetic, for which I am truly grateful. But lets scroll back the clock a little.
I was awake, some time in the wee small hours. Either I am worrying about the procedure, or this is the residuals of jet-lag acquired on our return from Oz just over a week ago. Perhaps a combination of both. I checked the clock at 04:00 and thereafter approximately on the hour until I got up just after 07:00. I was not allowed to have anything to eat but was allowed clear liquids to drink and had a black tea around 08:00. The taxi was due to pick me up at 11:30 so I was pottering around in the house killing time. It’s amazing how often I found myself by the bread bin thinking “I’ll just have some toast” or over by the cupboard staring at a packet of peanuts. My last eats had been around 21:00 the previous evening. Going without food for that length of time is not natural for me.
Eventually the taxi turned up, although not at my house but three doors away. Luckily I saw him out there. It could have been worse, the dispatcher at the taxi office misheard my address as Sistine and, had I not corrected him, the taxi would probably have been well on his way to Rome and the Vatican. Still, having ascertained that he was there for me I boarded and we set off. Twice I had to correct his directions back to the main road before I was sure we were going to the hospital. Mentally I was crossing my fingers, hoping that the surgeon had a better sense of direction than my erstwhile pilot.
And so, at 11:50, I checked in at the QA Day Surgery Admissions Reception. And thus began the long wait. It’s a bit like being on a long haul flight, hours of tedium broken up by announcements from the flight crew. In this case there was no food or drink.
After thirty minutes or so I was taken along to a small room. Here I was visited by the anaesthetist who interrogated, sorry, checked my details and gave me a brief summary of what to expect. He also arranged for some initial meds.
Shortly thereafter, around 13:00, a nurse arrived with my lunch. A cup of water and four tabs, 2 x paracetamol / 1 antacid and 1 stop you feeling sicky pill.
While I was downing this feast another nurse arrived, interrogated me again and checked my blood pressure and heart rate. My heart rate was right down at about 55 which I queried but is apparently normal for “someone of our age”. She later demonstrated her own readings which were similar, so that was alright then.
I was then left alone to my own devices. I read for a while, played hangman on my phone, read some more, got up and walked around my room, looked out the window , read some more. Well you get the picture. I believe I even had a nap for a few minutes. The window looked down on the back dock but there was nothing happening down there.
Around 16:00 a yet another nurse informed me that I was Mr. Hodgsons last patient and that I would be seeing him soon. Well I saw his registrar who introduced himself but I have no idea what his name was. His accent, he was English I think, was as indecipherable as his signature on the forms that he got me to sign. He went through the now familiar interrogation, during which Mr. Hodgson popped in, shook my hand and disappeared again.
Twenty minutes later I was invited to go and get changed, by yet another nurse, who led me down to a room full of changing cubicles. This is where all dignity ends.
I am not a small guy at just over six feet tall and way over twenty stones (280lb / 127kg). The nurse threw me a smock and left the room. Needless to say the smock, of the tie at the back variety, did not fit well and I struggled to secure it. Although there was no mirror available I could tell by the cool air that most of my back and all of my bum was pretty much fully exposed. The nurse popped her head in and asked how I was getting on. When I explained that the smock didn’t fit and I was having trouble tying it she assumed a sympathetic air and replied “I shouldn’t worry, the first thing they’ll do is undo it”. I then settled down to fight with the compression stockings which when battle was over were rolled up to just below my knees. Wonderful!!
So there I am with my pale blue smock reaching from just below my chin, down to about two inches above the knee. Struggling to meet my sage green stockings, some two inches below my knees. All with my bum exposed to the rear.
The epitomy of sartorial elegance ? Nope, not a pretty picture.
Not to worry, I thought, I have my dressing gown which should bridge the gap. No such luck. To make sure that I was all bright and shiny for the hospital, my wife had washed and tumble dried it. I hadn’t worn it until now and yes, you’ve guessed, it had shrunk. At least it still closed at the front but the length was a sadly lacking being just a tad longer than the hospital smock. At least my back & bum were covered and therefore a little warmer.
I gathered my stuff and found the nurse, who then gathered up another guy (John) and led us through the hospital. Imagine my feelings as we passed through the first doorway into a public waiting area. I’m dressed like a freak and as we entered the waiting area all heads turned to see who had arrived. I thought later that it must have looked like me and John got dressed in the dark and swapped dressing gowns. His gown reached from neck to ankles and wrapped around him properly while mine was way too small. So, we made it through the waiting area without the gales of laughter I was expecting. Next we traversed the hospital to a stairwell where we descended to the floor below and were left in a new waiting room with one other guy and a TV. Here we waited for what seemed like ages but must have been about thirty to forty minutes. John and the other guy got the call and then eventually so did I.
Kim, not sure if she was a nurse or a doctor, arrived to lead me to the Operating Theatre suite. Once again I had to traverse the hospital through the public corridors and climb to the upper floors via the stairwell. At this point a cold draught, not Guiness, reminded me about the negative aspects of my attire as I climbed the stairs. The stairs with the open railings to the centre, the railings that gave a not so glorious view of my nether regions to the several people descending these same flights of stairs. One glance up by any of them and they would be scarred for life.
On arrival I am sat in another waiting area, just for few minutes, but my apprehension levels are rising. This is not how I imagined the process would work. All this walking and waiting followed by more walking and waiting. And then an assistant anaesthetist comes and interrogates me one more time and I am on my way. One more surprise was that I had to walk into the theatre and get on the table myself. A green bag is held out for me to dump my shoes and dressing gown into. As I take off the gown a nurse rushes across the room to shut the doors to the outside, to prevent my blushes or those of any outsiders I’m not so sure. Then I am on the table.
When I entered the theatre there was a group of folks gathered in the corner. Presumably they were in a pre-scrum huddle discussing my procedure. Or maybe they were just discussing Pompeys abysmal record. As I hop on the table I suddenly become the centre of a hive of activity as the anaesthetist and his assistant close in to prepare me. Cannula in the back of the hand, heart monitors etc. then the anaesthetist is telling me that I will feel a coldness in my hand as he injects the first of two concoctions. I felt nothing and then he informs me that I may feel a little dizzy. I’m staring at the ceiling and the light panels suddenly seem to displace and the next thing I know is a voice over my shoulder is speaking and inviting me to cough.
I open my eyes and I am in a different room, apparently job done. This is like taking a shot with an SLR. You look through the lens, focus, shutter release, view goes blank as the mirror lifts, then the view is clear again when the mirror drops. All in the blink of an eye. I’m not feeling dopey or dizzy, just wide awake. Once the nurse is happy that I am OK I am wheeled through to a recovery area.
As I enter the new waiting area I pass John and the other guy from the pre-op waiting area. They are sitting up in their respective beds eating toast which they both wave at me.
After a short time and a cup of water I was invited to get dressed and was led outside to a seating area. The nurse asked if I had eaten anything or had a drink to which I responded “No”. I was offered coffee or tea and I was expecting toast but was in fact offered eggy or corned beef butties. John was already out there so I sat alongside and we compared notes as he had the same procedure. When my coffee and butties arrived he was rather envious since he was only offered toast and like me he loves corned beef. My wife was brought in and she eyed my butties hungrily too. She had been waiting outside since just after five and, as it was now gone seven, was very hungry.
The purpose of this little tea party is to ensure that you are OK, that you can keep down food and drink and most importantly that you can have a pee. If you can’t keep your food down or you don’t make water they won’t let you go home. Worst still an inability to pee can mean catheterisation and / or an overnight stay. Luckily I was able after a short while to produce a dribble. Oh but it burned. I’m guessing that I was catheterised during the procedure although nobody said.
Anyway, based on my meager performance I was allowed to go and my daughter came and drove us home. Once home it was more tea and everyone seemed amazed, not the least of which me, at how alert I was. Also that I was in no pain. Well apart from when I had a pee which I was having to do with ever-increasing regularity.
Well the good news is that I have not had any pain. Two nights sleep, although still not sleeping all the way through so blaming the jet lag.
It is now nearly forty-one hours since the procedure. Any residual pain blocking by the anaesthetic must have worn off by now. The burning sensation has all but disappeared and I have a slight soreness in the perineum, like when you have a bruise, which only makes itself known when I sit on something hard.
Now I have to wait for approximately four weeks to hear the results. That brings us to Christmas week I think, so it is likely that my appointment will be after the holidays. We shall see.
WrAnTz 