Exhausted by a day of battles with healthcare professionals I was craving a big hairy steak so I bought an EXPENSIVE bit of organic rump on the way back to the Wood. It appears that with just a week’s notice, funding for my disease modifying drug has been withdrawn. I won’t go into details on a public forum but after a year of daily revolting self injections I am amazed by my stamina for pursuing some more. Don’t take my mojo away. Or I will cry – a lot.

Also a bit ground down by mixed messages all weekend from both the Panther and the Chaw-Bacon. Perhaps it is better to move on to pastures new. Whatever it was the Scottish one didn’t like about me last time around is presumably still the same so how long before he decides that he wants to jump ship? My idea of having the strokes without engaging the emotions doesn’t seem to be working. Perhaps I am not a NSA (no strings attached) kind of gal.

Anyhow, the Beefsteak a la Victor Hugo was a minor disaster. Because I was distracted by all sorts of stinking thinking about my drugs and my lovelife I didn’t watch the sauce and ended up with an omelette instead. I shall try again another time with Cary Grant’s version – differs only from Ruth in that he specifies extra vinegar and horseradish…

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