Sunday, November 30, 2003

Swing It Sistah!!!!!!!!!

"Nights don't com any longer
Days seem to last forever
Nothing you can do
Could bring him back to you
Forever Blue

Memories don't come stronger
Dreams lost and gone forever
Softly whispering
Won't bring him back to you
Forever blue"

From Forever Blue [Kaleidoscope World : Swing Out Sister]

New(ish) look and playing with style sheets

Call myself a web developer?? Well, I do. A 'Designer' makes things look pretty (in theory). A 'Developer' makes things work. So I don't know much about making things look nice but I do know how to make them work. Style sheets, however, is one exception. To me, this looks OK, but could be better. It'll change as I begin to understand them and when I get more of an idea of how best to use them.

If any one finds my lost marbles...

... can they please roll them back towards my hotmail email account. I'm putting this all down to the stress of the situation at the moment, but my mental recall at the minute is friggin shocking! Having more success on focusing my mind on things but trying to remember what I'm doing sometimes still eludes me. Because of the day job I have to remember information - some of it is pretty important - so I've always been good at remembering things. I've had to be. I think I may have to start getting a notebook or something to write the important things down in. Don't really wanna do this as I have a habit of writing things down and not being able to decipher later. I have to take the minutes at an important work meeting. I'm pretty good. I take notes and later (usually much later, like three months later and the week (ok two days) before the next meeting I type up the minutes and they're highly accurate. Someone else may have to do that for a while until my marbles come rolling back to me.

Not sure if I'm a bit schizophrenic as well. I notice this more when I'm driving. Most of the time I'm OK, then I kind of wake up and think "Shit, I don't wanna be here" and am full of panic and fear. First instinct is to slam on the brakes and stop but you can't do that when you've got boy racers breathing heavily up your arse hole (ooooo! what a nice thought). Then I'll snap back and I'm fine. Life is very very wierd.

Oh, and I've got this compulsive desire for tidying up after myself (it won't last, you can guarantee it). Though I think that's just because I get very listless and restless at the moment. Pete was getting ready for work yesterday and I was trying to read a newspaper, eat lunch, empty the dishwasher, take cups and glasses and other shit from the living room into the kitchen. I'm obsessed with keeping the kitchen tidy and clean. I'm washing my hands everytime I do something. This is bloody hard work!

Roll on normality (whatever that is: believe its somewhere between one christmas and the next) and SOMEONE PLEASE ROLL MY FUCKIN MARBLES BACK TO ME!!!!!!!!!

Call Centre Confidential

Just rediscovered another blog that I found earlier in the year. Call Centre Confidential is a wry and highly accurate description of how call centres really operate. No bull, some of the stories I've heard about the staff from call centres would make your hair fall out. A good laugh is the entry from Tuesday, November 04, 2003 about those touch tone menu answer phone thingies that all companies appear to have these days that send you round and round in circles and always put you through to the same person who works at the bottom of the refuse shute. It's a hard job, but someone's gotta do it.

Sunday's Thought...

Woke up this morning to the strains of Faure's Requiem going through my head:

'Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine. Dona eis Domine luceat eis."

I'd decided many years ago that I was having that at my funeral. It's a lovely piece of music and one that has always meant a lot to me. Don't want to think about death. Not scared of it, just don't want to go through it.

From Encyclopaedia Britannica Online:
"musical setting of the Mass for the Dead (missa pro defunctis), named for the beginning of the Latin of the Introit “Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine” (“Give them eternal rest, O Lord”). The polyphonic composition for the requiem mass differs from the normal mass in that it not only includes certain items of the Ordinary—e.g., Kyrie, Sanctus, Agnus Dei (the joyful portions, Gloria…"

[seems a bit cut short, but hey! SHOOT THE FUCKING WEB DEVELOPER!!!!!]

And from http://requiemonline.tripod.com/musical_lyrics.htm:

[Latin] Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine:
[English] Grant them eternal rest, O Lord,

[Latin] et lux perpetua luceat eis.
[English] and may light eternal shine upon them

Now I'm not religious by any stroke of the imagination. And if I was going to have a sudden change of heart I think it might be a bit late!!

While I was looking for a translation of the Latin (I did know what the words meant, but wanted someone elses translation) I came across this site. Bit of a wierd one but it's some popular songs whose lyrics have been translated into Latin. You might recognise some of them. If you're a bit horrified about the sacred Latin language being used in such away I should direct you to look at Carl Orff's Carmina Burana. Orff did three major works of songs of monks (I think some of them were drinking songs). It's a revalation. Makes you think of monks and religion in a whole new light.

The opening of Carmina Burana has a section called "O Fortuna". A very powerful piece of music and has been used on adverts, incidental music for TV and film and even the odd "shock! horror" bit of some comedy sketches.

And guess what. You can get the whole Carmina Burana in MIDI file format at http://www.anthea2.freeuk.com/carminaburana/ if you want! Not listened to it but it'll probably be good. It's an unmistakeable work of art.

Second Thought: And why the fuck was I wide awake at 7.15am on a fucking Sunday! It's not usual. It's not natural. And it certainly ain't right!

Saturday, November 29, 2003

About Last Night...

Well what can I say about last night? Apart from the fact that it was 3am before we got to bed and I think that was more due to running out of fags and Vodka than anything else. We were both pretty pissed but didn't really feel it up until about a half hour before bed.

Pete got in from work about 6.05pm. I was on my first v&c. Tired but full of the joys of his new job. I know he started talking about it and talking about some of the people he works with but I was only half paying attention.

We decided to go into the kitchen to think about what we were having for tea. He fancied fish, chips and peas but I'd only got a few frozen chips - not even enough for a half portion. He asked if I'd go to the local shop to get some more chips and he'd put the kettle on. I said I didn't feel like it, but I'd make a brew if he went to the shop. "what if I don't want to go?", he said. I replied "you don't eat!". This didn't go down too well. He flounced around a bit, but eventually went. I gave him some money and also asked him to get more fags as I knew we'd need them later. This gave me chance to move the bottle of Vodka from the pan cupboard to the electricity cupboard - just don't ask!

I cooked. It wasn't hard, really, just put everything apart from the peas into the deep fat fryer. it was edible, quite nice actually but I couldn't finish it all. I just wasn't interested in eating. I brought two glasses in, plain Pepsi for him and one with vodka for me.

He'd gone though his rota when he came in so I knew when he was working. Or at least he told me now I don't remember a single thing about it other than he was down to work Saturday and Sunday afternoon and evening. His phone rang. It was work asking him whether he could do a sleep-over on the Saturday. He agreed to it, the money for christmas and all that. Half of me didn't want him to do it, the other half did. When he'd finished the call he sat back down. "You don't mind, do you?". I said no. "You sure, you look a bit upset about it.", "No, I'm not upset, just tired."

We watched TV. It was nice to have him there. I've not said or thought that for a long time. Maybe I really needed him to be there at that moment. More glasses of Pepsi - sometimes I had vodka sometimes not. He'd not had any yet.

It was getting late and I knew I had to tell him. I was beginning to chicken out and knew that if I did it was only going to be worse later. He went upstairs to put his dressing gown on - he always does this later in the evening just to be more confortable. While he was upstairs I spied my chance to get his first vodka. It was my intention to just slip a small amount, then over a few glasses to up the level until he was at a point where I could talk to him. Didn't quite go to plan and his first shot was a triple.

He came downstairs, sat down, and we started talking. Then mid conversation he reached for his Pepsi. Took a swig. Realised there was something in it. Went "Oo. Why didn't you tell me you'd got vodka? We could have been drinking it all night." Then I said that it was because I had something important to tell him.

I started at the begining, about the discharge, going to the clinic. "... and I'm HIV positive." He started to cry, as I did. I said I was sorry to him. He said I had no reason to apologise to him. He still loves me and still wants me.

It was a relief to tell him. I knew that the shock he was feeling was similar to what mine was. Not quite as strong, but definately still there. Again I can't remember all that I said. I came out with two lines, I think it was "It changes nothing but it changes everything", and "it's still me. I'm still the same person. The same as I was yesterday, the day before that and the month before that. I just know a little bit more about myself."

I think he took it really well. As well as you can do I suppose. He got the same brain overload as I did. Think this must be a common thread. I explained about the whole journey so far and what I could about about what I was thinking and feeling.

We got on to the topic of who to tell. I made him promise me that it was only me that was going to tell people. It's important to me. It's my life, my situation and so I should choose who I want to know. I know it's going to get out eventually but hopefully that's further down the road. He advised that I should 'keep it out of the village' as people can react strangely. I always forget that not everyone is as easy going as me.

He was going on about me getting everyone together and telling them all at once and that it would be easier to do it that way and explained his thought about the confusion, emotions and unrest that would happen by telling people individually. I told him that until Thursday that would have been the way i'd have done it: everyone gets a phone call, be at mine on a certain day at a certain time, no reasons or explainations, just be there. Then I reminded him of how he was feeling and what he was asking me and pointed out that at the moment I could just about handle that from a single person but not a number of people at once. It would be too much for me. I agreed that I had a point.

I've decided that I'm going to tell my close family. Family to me is an important concept and doesn't just include biological relatives. There are people in my life who I class as my family only due to the way that I care for them and about them. Not everyone is priviledged to be classed as family. I have a list in my head, and Peter knows this list, and the people on that list I will tell. No offence intended to those not on that list just that there are some people that it wouldn't feel right if they didn't know. I think I've explained that ok.

We had a good talk. Some tears from both side and some laughs. Humour is one thing I've still got. Pete commented today that he was pleased i could still laugh about things. I suppose you either laugh or cry about things. He's realised that I need to take things slowly. I can't plan at the moment, I can't focus for long enough to do it.

It's good that he's going to stand by me. If he had've gone, I wouldn't have blamed him or thought anything less of him. I told him this and he said he couldn't do that, I've been part of his life for too long. He didn't want to go into work but I told him he had to. Life has to carry on because nothing has changed, it's just a small abberation to the grand scheme of things. Well, maybe not so small.

Saturday's First Thought

First thought of this morning - 11.30 am:

Here you come again
Just when I'm about to make it work without you
You waltz right in the door
Just like you done before
And wrap my heart 'round your little finger
Here you come again
Just when I'm about to make it work without you
You look into my eyes
And light those dreamy eyes
And pretty soon I'm wonderin'
How I came to doubt you
All you gotta do
Is smile that smile
And there go all my defenses
Just leave it up to you
And in a little while
You're messin' up my mind
An' fillin' up my senses

Here you come again
Lookin' better than a body
Has a right to
An' shakin' me up so
That all I really know
Is here you come again
An' here I go

All you gotta do
Is smile that smile
And there go all my defenses
Just leave it up to you
And in a little while
You're messin' up my mind
An' fillin' up my senses

Here you come again
Lookin' better than a body
Has a right to
An' shakin' me up so
That all I really know
Is here you come again
An' here I go

Why a Dolly Parton song, I don't know. It was just there in my head. Beautiful song

Friday, November 28, 2003

I Hate Bloody Mariah Carey!

Just been to ASDA after finishing work. Driving from town I remembered how I was when I first split up with my ex. I'd go to ASDA and walk round, almost in a daze, for ages and ages. At first it was cos I didn't know where anything was. But later it was cos my mind was on other things. A bit like now, really. Laughed to myself 'when I'm stressed or upset, go to ASDA'. It doesn't help, but it gets me out of the house.

I had three things to get from ASDA: cat food, vodka (and pepsi, of course), and fags. Just about to put the six-pack of Whiskas in Gravy into my trolley when who should come over the tannoy? Mariah Bloody Carey and 'All I want For Christmas'. Well, this turned into being a very short visit (less than ten minutes is excellent for me). Now I like christmas, and especially the christmas music. That song has been a favorite for many years but today it made me start to cry. I've not really cried about this yet, still don't think its fully sunk in, but I feel it's getting there. Pretty sure I'm gonna cry tonight - hence the vodka! Oo. Also heard Emma Bunton's 'Maybe'. Love that one and want to do it on karaooke at some point. The words now have a more sinister twist:

'Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's all just in my mind.
Maybe I'm foolish. Maybe it's just a waste of time.
But I don't think so, maybe I definately know.
Why do I keep fooling myself, why can't I let go?
This is not like me but now I definately see
That maybe, oh maybe, maybe I'm in love.'

Not really spoken to anyone since I left the hospital yesterday. It's all been phone calls. Spoke to my ex late last night, well, he spoke I did very little apart from grunt periodically. He was tired so we weren't on for long. Spoke to Steve, my manager, this morning. Again, I didn't say much. Oh, Pete (my ex, may as well give him a name) rang this morning to tell me he was finishing work at 5 and should be at mine between 6 and 6.30 and what shifts he was doing this weekend. Spoke to noone in work: straight in, straight to the server room and out when I'd done. And the conversation at ASDA could really make headlines: 'Want some help with your packing?', 'no, I'll ... '

Really hoping that he doesn't ask me what I'm thinking when I go quiet later on tonight. Somehow I don't think he'll accept 'When I know myself you'll be the first to know.' Wish me luck. Two hours and twenty-two minutes before he arrives...

Another Day

Just woken up and it's 10.05 am. Not had a good nights sleep really. Very restless. The alarm originally went off at 7.30 but I kept snoozing it until 8 when I just thought 'Fuck it!' and turned it off. Been to the loo, slight, clear discharge on my foreskin. Oh I hope those horse tranx work. Sat here now with coffee and fag.

First thought of the day: Gareth Gates, 'Sunshine' :
"What ya gonna do about it? What ya gonna say when I say
'Maybe it's just one of those days'? What ya gonna do today?
You can see that I'm smiling. Baby there's no denying.
'Cos the sun is shining. What ya gonna do today. What ya gonna do today?"

Yes, I suppose I am smiling. Don't feel happy though. If anything I'm still annoyed with myself. Obviously I've been very silly.

Got my ex coming round later today when he finishes work. We're still pretty close but I'm gonna have to tell him my situation. I can picture the start of the conversation now:
Him: How've you been since I last saw you?
Me: Ok, I suppose. Started yesterday alright, went through happy, to pleased, to ecstatic, then fear and terror. Oh, and by the way, found out I'm HIV positive. And how was your day, dear?

Have to go into work at some point today as I need to do an install. Don't much feel like it. Don't really feel like being sociable at the moment. Feel pretty lifeless and my arms are so heavy. Still, I feel like getting a big bottle of Vodka later. Yes, I'm gonna need some dutch courage. This is going to take some time to get used to. I'm beginning to hate the word 'positive' and that could prove to be a problem.

Been through the chronology about Jamie. And I don't think it was him. Thank christ for that.
Jamie met Rob after me.

The Mists are Clearing

You'll gather that this blog is going to be intermittent, a bit rambling, a bit random, containing what's going through my head or what has been going through there. It doesn't matter to me if it don't make sense to everyone. But I know that other people who have been in this boat or end up in it may understand it.

I tried watching TV. SKY digital really is crap, nearly 1000 channels and I can still turn round and say there's fuck all to watch. Fell asleep for a while but was woken by the Thompson Local thumping through the leter box. Thanks for that.

Mind still all over the place so I went for a drive. Needed to get some petrol anyway.

I still can't get over how this changes you. I talk to myself, I admit it. I know that at least I'll get some sense back. Some psychologists say that it shows a logical and well balanced mind. I'll reserve judgement on that for the moment. Anyway, I never ever stutter when I talk to myself. Stopped at some traffic lights I actually slapped myself for it and told myself off (with a stutter). Guy in the car next to me must have wondered what the fuck I was doing.

I thought the idea of a drive was a good, if silly in hindsight. I needed something to force my mind to focus on something. With driving you have to focus. You have to be fully aware of what you're doing.

Got petrol. Paid a very very very cute guy at the kiosk. [ASDA Eastlands have some very cute lads working for them, also got some right mingers but hey, that's life].

It's not uncommon for me to drive round a bit of the M60 and then come home. Despite the horrendous weather - it was fucking pissing it down - I actually went a bit further on to the M62 towards Leeds, did a couple of junctions, turned round and came back down the other side. Called off at Birch services for a pee.

They'd had a fire there a few weeks back so everything is in portacabins at the moment. Went to the toilets, sat in a cubicle and had a piss. Then just sat thinking with my head in my hands. Was in there about 15 minutes. I'd heard it was a bit cruisey there but frankly, I looked at my dick, it looked back at me and we decided we just weren't interested in sex just now.

Finished up and went back to the car. Lit a fag and started thinking again. It was the who where and when thoughts. Maybe it's just me not thinking straight but I have half an idea of who infected me.

If I'm right, then it's the first guy I slept with after I split with my ex. He's a lovely guy and someone I care for a lot. Don't see him as much as I'd like 'cos the situation's a bit complex. Basically I didn't want anyone in my life after I split, and Jamie wanted a boyfriend. He fucked me a few times without protection over a period of time. We were introduced by his brother who is someone I'd wanted ever since I first met him and they were living with each other at the time. In the end I told Jamie that I really cared for him, that I was glad I met him, but that we met at the wrong time for both of us - he'd recently split with a bloke as well.

In my head I'd got it all worked out. Jamie had had a boyfriend whose ex was HIV. I'd met this boyfriend and heard about incidents with his ex through another friend of mine. I started to cry, a bit with despair because if I was right then Jamie didn't know. Poor Jamie.

But, you wanna hear how this gets worse? It turns out that my ex has slept with Jamie on a number of occasions as well! Small fucking world, eh? Or just evidence of a lack of decent men in Manchester? Moral dilema time: I said I'd never ask my ex about his sexual activities as it was none of my business. Do I ask him what he did with Jamie and whether it was safe, or just leave it? I don't know.

The weather was getting worse and I knew I had to drive back in it. I'd got myself emotional, wound up and dizzy again. I was fine getting out of the services until I got on the slip road to the motorway. Then I panicked. The rain came down harder and the lighting was dark. But I had to get on the motorway to get home and there's no stopping on a slip road - unless you want a big fuck off juggernaught up your arse.

Finally got home. Didn't enjoy the drive but got home safely.

Life is so cruel. Why did this have to happen to me? I'd just got over a fortnight of no sex cos of the gonowhatsit. That was 'oops, must be more careful next time', course of drugs and it's all cleared up. There's no second chance with HIV.

Thursday, November 27, 2003

The Cock Up (non-sexual, unfortunately)

Oh yes, forgot to add. Part of my visit today was for a re-test to make sure the gonowhatsit had cleared up. I was a bit concerned about this as I discharged yesterday and this morning.

Turns out that when they did the more indepth tests at the lab that I didn't have gonodoodah after all, I actually had Chlamydia.

Left with four fucking horse tranquilizers called 'Zithromax'. Basically, an antibiotic. They were huge! (I'm not a size queen, honestly). I had to take all four of them. Helen said I could do all four at once (yeah, right!) but would probably want to do them one after the other. I went for the latter.

Heaven or Hell?

Well, I suppose today is one of those days you'd rather forget about. I know I would, but this time I can't. Today is one I'll never forget and one that I must never forget. Bear with me, this could well be a long entry. I'll get onto all that shortly.

The reason I'm writing this is that hopefully it'll all make sense to me later. Sound a bit wierd? Well, you'll understand why in a bit...

The day started out OK. Starting a new website project at work. I've been forming a COM component for navigation and was please that it looked and worked fine. Then had to leave for my 3pm appointment to pick up my results from the Clap Club. I arrived about 2.45

Last time I was there I was speaking to a Health worker called Helen. She was the one who gave me the injection and explaining all about the confidentiality of that clinic from the rest of the hospital. She called me into a room shortly after I'd checked in.

She sat me down, closed the door and then sat down herself oposite me. "Last time you were here, we took a blood test to check for HIV. We've got the results back and..." There was a pause, a long pause [and our survey said: PARP PAAARRP!] "...the test came back positive."


At first I wasn't sure what to say, or do or think. Everything seemed to go foggy, misty and it wasn't really me in that room with Helen. I suppose I thought she was joking, but you never joke about something like that. Shock wasn't the word. How I felt was indescribable. Spaced and stoned don't even get close. She had my file with the result sheet on the front held with a paperclip. She showed me the slip. We confirmed my date of birth and reference number. It was pointed out that the test had been done three times and they'd found antibodies.

I have to be honest here. I really don't recall much of the following 45 minutes I was with Helen. I know I cried and she hugged me. Your mind races and tries to think of everything at once, fails, and you think of nothing! You instantly begin to wonder who you have to tell, who you need to tell and how the fuck do you begin. Where the fuck do you begin. I'd forgotten how lifechanging a single piece of paper could be.

Eventually, shock kicked in. I don't know if it was physically obvious but I could feel myself shaking. And I was just so plain scared. I said to Helen that I was glad I'd not brought the car. "why?" she asked. "'Cos I don't think I could drive at the moment." In difficult situations I always try to inject humour, if for no other reason to make me feel better and lighten the mood. We had a bit of a giggle from time to time even though it was a serious situation. I knew I'd have questions, she knew there'd be questions but I just couldn't think of anything at that time. The chorus of 'oh my god', 'shit' and various other things intersperced with snuffling and tears probably filled quite a bit of the time. I knew that Helen wasn't going to leave me until I was more together and I really appreciate the time and kindness she showed. One thing she pointed out, very important really, is that nothing has actually changed (think about it). Just that, for better or worse, I know myself.

There's going to be lots of things I need to know but Helen said it's too much too soon. I needed to get my own head around this before I could learn anything new about this situation. I kept saying [asking??] where do I go from here. I was completely clueless. It was explained that help, guidance and assistance was available when I needed it.

Finally got myself kinda on a level. Still shocked, still numb. I asked if there was any way to know how long I'd been positive. The tests so far didn't show that. But I have to have some other tests that should give some form of indication. Then you start thinking about everyone you've been with... Whoa!!! Stop!!! It's happened, you can't change it.

So close to December is difficult for me as December is always busy at work. I go back next Friday to begin my initiation, have a confirmation test and everything else. I'll probably remember more as I get to next Friday. It's still all a bit dizzy.

Got home and half expected to ball my eyes out cuddled up with the cat. Strangely I didn't. Still don't think it's fully sunk in yet.

Thursday, November 13, 2003

The Visit To The Clap Club

I noticed a discharge from the end of my dick a few weeks ago, then there was pain while peeing. Time for a trip to the 'clap club' (GUM clinic). Phoned up for an appointment on the Tuesday for late morning on Thursday. I actually wanted afternoon but they weren't doing afternoons that day due to some audit going on. So I had to take the last appointment on Thursday morning - 11.55am - and I was told I couldn't pee from three hours before the appointment.

So Thursday arrives. I wake up late, 8.45am and have ten minutes to go to the loo, get ready for work and get to work - I'm walking in to town this morning. Finally arrive at work for 10am. Work for an hour and a half, then walk to the hospital. Why walk? Well the idea was that it would clear my mind. This would be my first visit ever to the clap club so I was a bit nervous.

I arrived in good time, and to a packed waiting room. Checked in with the receptionist, who apologised that they were a doctor short (due to illness) and that everything was running late but they were going as quickly as they could. These things can't be helped, I suppose, so no point getting stressed about it. I was invited to take a seat. I did.

I hate waiting rooms. I hate waiting in them even more. I must have read every single poster on the walls. 11.55 came and went and there were still loads of people in front of me. I knew that I'd be last due to having the last appointment of the morning. About 12.20 I was called back to the reception window for the obligatory form filling. I sat back down.

The big problem with the posters, and all the people, and the waiting, is that you start to look around and initially think 'hmm, he's nice', then it moves on to 'well, he's got it, he probably has...' Dangerous stuff!

There was a really cute black lad waiting - I have a very big thing about black men - and he started trying to make eye contact with me. OK, I'm flattered but that was not really the time or place to try and pick up.

I eventually saw a doctor at 1pm. He again apologised for the delay and said that he was going to ask me some questions, take a quick look at me and we'd take it from there. Probably standard stuff for a first timer: "have I ever had sex with another man" [erm, don't ask me to count...], "had I ever been paid for sex", "had I ever paid for sex", "had I recently had sex with someone foreign". The one that really made me laugh was "when was the last time I went with a woman". He couldn't find a way of wording 'that long ago I can't remember' for his sheet so we had to make something up.

We got onto the topic of why I was there. So I explained about the discharge and burning and he asked me when I'd last had sex and what had happened. I'd visited a local cottage a couple of times the previous weeks and gotten a blow job or two.

And why does 'I had oral sex performed on me' sound so naff?

He thought for a moment and said what he thought it could be, but confirmed that we couldn't be sure unless tests were done. I decided to go for the full works. Better to know everything, I thought. It included an HIV test, which I thought was a good idea as I'd not had one in many years. Even though I split up with my ex over 18 months ago I never believed I'd done anything bad so to me it was just formality and peace of mind.

I thought he was going to do everything there and then. He asked me to drop my trackies and lie back on the couch. He inspected my tackle and assessed my balls, then asked me to roll over while he looked at my arse. From there I was sent back into a smaller waiting room.

Another wait and I was beginning to really feel the need to go to the loo. Still couldn't go. Also I was dying for a smoke!

Eventually I was called by a nurse for the tests. First one was blood. Now I'm not good with needles and the last time I had to give blood for an HIV test I ended up with severe bruising on my arm. I explained all this to the nurse who was brilliant. I honestly felt nothing and she was able to get more blood in a shorter space of time than my last test. Next the throat swab. Ugh! Not nice, huge cotton bud to the back of the mouth. Yes, it made me gag.

Next came the swab down the japs eye. I laughed at this one initially as I assumed that it would be a cotton bud going down there - I've only got a little piss slit. As it was, it was a thin red rod with a loop. Fine going in, pringed a bit when it touched bottom and I was glad when that was over. Finally, a swab up the arse. Don't know what went up there but I don't think I felt it.

Now I could go to the loo. Yipee!!!!! But it was with instructions: Take two bottles into the cottage? Not me, I just wanna piss and go!!! I had to start peeing in one bottle and then finish off in the other. Then when done sit back and wait for the results.

Well, long story short. Turns out I had gonorrhea (or however you spell it). Quick injection in my arse and then come back in a fortnight to get the results of the rest of the tests and to make sure the gonohrea has cleared.