The Killing Fields of East Oxford

Whilst I plough on with packing up the house, one of my cats seems to have come up with the plan of dispatching every form of wildlife on her patch before she relocates. There are now all too regular “gifts” of mouse heads at the bottom of my bed in the morning – 8 to date…as well as assorted body parts in various locations. The garden has been scattered with a range of corpses of un-identifiable small furry creatures and now….she has moved on to birds. Huge dead pigeon in garden this week…and another today…and overnight the kitchen has become a scene of feathers, wings and …..eeeew!…beaks!

I wonder if this is my fault and it is a reaction to the mouse I taxidermied (if that’s not a word, it should be) a few weeks ago, something I never believed I would do..but it was a fascinating insight into the Victorian world of diorama and stuffed seagulls. I think that the cat must have taken offence at the anthropomorphic accessories and is, perhaps demonstrating her distaste..?

No corpses..or none visible at hospital today…I am such a regular for the CT scanner that they no longer ask if I need to change into a gown as they know me and that I come “CT ready” with no metal about my person. As I slide in and out of the machine following the disconnected mechanical voice instructing my breathing, I try and think of a time when this was an unusual pastime. Then the cannula goes in…then the contrast dye…then the feeling of inner warmth quickly followed by the sensation of urinary incontinence…How many times now? I can’t even remember…there was a time when I could count on the fingers of one hand..but hey…once more, with feeling! Results in 10 days

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