Catching up time again and this time, perhaps…i hope…i’ll remain caught up.

The trouble is, time flies when you’re enjoying yourself: it flies too when you’re not, when you’re screamingly busy, and when you are up to your eyes in work and work-related stuff that is clearly important to someone – even if not necessarily you.

January has been like that.

It began, naturally enough, with christmas, which ended up being something of a local disaster. “‘er indoors”/andrea did her back in big time. Impressively big time. I have to say it was the first xmas i have ever attended which required the attendance of a paramedic in order to lift one of its participants up off the floor.

As it began, so it went on: andrea put her back out to a degree that i think she never has previously. The next three weeks or so required sympathy and strong drugs. Eventually, it was a young man with warm hands (aka “the physio”) who helped manoeuvre her back on to her feet (figuratively, that is) and who restored her confidence in the possibility that she would be ok and hadn’t permanently damaged herself.

Then there was work: another of those mega-reports on climate change and energy that i have been doing of late which are rapidly becoming bread and butter stuff for me. I gloat over students who moan about having to do two thousand word essays: yes, i show off a little, since the nub of this work seems to involve of going from nought to 45,000 words in about two to three weeks. But it does take its toll. By the time i filed this one (and i am still waiting for the requests for amends to come back) i was about as off words as one can be.

Still, touch wood, i think it was a good report (although i must remember never to discount the ability of the series editor to disagree!) and i am “looking forward” to the next.

In the meantime, i have been having one or two victories on the gender and legal front. An interesting decision or two out of the press complaints commission: and i have now just about recovered enough from january to start planning the rest of the year.

The hormones probably haven’t helped. I discussed where i am at with my gender specialist (of which much more soon) this week, and whilst my oestrogen levels are a little lowered, but otherwise where they should be, that darn testosterone level keeps doggedly stuck at about 8 (whatever units we are measuring in).

So-o. Minor lecture about the fact that some of my emotional lability right now is probably hormonal. Huh!

And decision that i now need an “anti-androgen”, which appears to involve a small prick and a large bill.

I should rephrase: it is injected (in my posterior) and it costs about £100 a shot. A single shot lasts a month: so i may have some issues with the NHS in terms of them stumping up for the treatment.

We’ll see.

OK. In the interests of keeping blogging to a sensible short readable gobbet, i am done here…but loads and loads and loads to tell…so on to the next instalment.



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