No news is ... no, in fact, all it is is no news

At the risk of sounding like a horrid entitlement whore a la Liz Smith of the Daily Mail, I really do have to say that I think the hospital's being a bit shit. The gynaecological board meeting should have been today, and I still haven't heard from them. That's ten days since I saw the consultant, and while ten days may not mean much in universal terms, when you've been told you have cancer and are waiting for a proper diagnosis, it's a fuck of a long time.

I was infuriated by a news article today which told us that British women are a high cancer risk because of their obesity and heavy drinking. That's right, blame the victims, why don't you? And also, just fuck right off and do some real research.

That's it, really. Just another day of doing nothing, or almost nothing. My finest achievement today was sorting out the little cabinet in my study and managing to throw away one entire photo album (it was only part-filled, and what there was in it, other than one photo of the Tig, which I rescued, was pictures of Jeremy's children as babies which, frankly, who cares?).

Also it's very hot, which really doesn't improve matters.