In which the stork pays a preliminary visit....

I'm still in shock.

First round of IUI, 5% chance of success....and I'M PREGNANT!!!! How amazing is that?

I'm convinced it was all the positive visualisation I did lying on the couch immediately post IUI: come on boys, swim swim swim!!! Just as well Bald Bloke wasn't involved, or they'd have taken one look at the egg and gone "bugger that, I'm off for a pint".

So I'm 10 weeks now and obsessively checking "ask.baby.com" for the daily picture and update on the Bean. The Bean has got past alien/tadpole stage now, and is looking vaguely human, though I noticed this morning that he/she seems to have developed a hunchback overnight. Hopefully this is a passing phase.....

Current names are:
Imogen Rose
Toby Jack Headley

I'm very tempted by Bear as a first name (think Bear Gryllis, intrepid manly explorer. Yum), but Bear Headley is probably asking for trouble. Bruno is also off the list for now, as 99% of those polled responded "ooh it sounds a bit gay". Curse Sacha Baron Cohen.

30 weeks to go!

What's the Deal?

I’m the faddy type.

I tend to lurch from one obsession to another, abandoning each behind after a few days or weeks with not so much as a careless glance.

Admittedly, there are also more than a few longstanding obsessions:

• My cats Thomas and Gertie (though I do go off Thomas for long periods of time. He is a faithless tart)
• My Aga. I could NOT live without it. Well I probably could, but the mere thought sends me hurtling behind the sofa, curled up in the foetal position rocking to-and-fro (admittedly, I have pretty much the same reaction when I get the resulting quarterly gas bill)
• I’m unable to leave the bathroom without leaving the end of the loo roll folded into a neat little point (this includes other people’s bathrooms, restaurants, public toilets etc).
• I can’t go past any picture without trying to straighten it (see loo roll). Even if it’s already straight.
• Kevin McCloud of Grand Designs, the lovely Phil and Kirsty of Location Location, and….Jean-Luc Picard of Star Trek Next Generation.
• Checking ex-boyfriends Facebook pages. Ex-boyfriends from up to 20 years ago. But surely that’s more caring than weird????
• Long hot baths with lavender oil and So-Doku. And toppings up of piping hot water using the manipulation-of-hot-tap-with-big-toe method. LOVELY.
• My gorgeous antique bed, complete with electric blanket and 3 pocket-sprung mattresses. INDESCRIBABLY lovely.
• Sarah Arnett dresses. I have 14 lurking guiltily in a dedicated wardrobe, with a couple displayed artfully on the bedroom wall to induce envy in visiting girl friends. But I think that’s a Brighton thing. Every woman in BN1 to BN4 went into mourning when she shut up shop a year ago. The occasional “pop-up-shop” throws the city into pandemonium. Frantic Brightonettes, caterwauling, fling themselves lemming-like down city-centre roads, dodging traffic with no regard for personal safety towards the latest just-announced-by-email destination.

But it’s the intermittent faddy type obsessions that I throw myself into with complete (if short-lasting) and single-minded abandon. A few examples.

• Numerous boyfriends. However, fad transforms within nano-seconds to a repulsed god-you’re-scaring-me-I-want-to-hide type reaction if they seem even slightly keen. e.g. calling me for once. (If completely uninterested, they are moved swiftly to list above and languor there for a good few months)
• Satsumas. I once lived on these for 2 months. Literally nothing else. Lost 3 stone. Gained architectural cheekbones and jutting hipbones you could hang washing from. Fantastic. Can’t bear them now.
• Spinning. Went religiously 5 times a week for 4 months. Got very muscular thighs. Went on holiday. Can barely get leg over saddle now.
• DIY tasks. Buy the kit. Buy the power tools. After 15 mins realise its not as easy as I thought. Throw tantrum. Throw tools. Call in bloke to do it. Power tools hide awkwardly in cellar.
• Gardening. Grew perfect “pensioner’s” garden complete with pretty lights, bunting, statue and vegetable patch. Moving on 3 months, garden is a complete wilderness with knee-high grass and decaying tomato plants hanging straw-like from bending canes. Bunting is limp and grey-green with mildew. I have no idea what happened to the statue.
• Blogging. Well…if you’re curious, you’ll see a pattern in the dates from my Blog Posts. Blogging might make a brief resurgence though. We’ll see….

My current obsession is….shamefully…..”Deal or No Deal”. I search all the freeview channels and set programme reminders. Even watch it if it’s a repeat. OK…FREQUENTLY watch repeats. Posh Totty cousin got very addicted to it a couple of years ago (so I guess it runs in the family), and I teased her relentlessly. Especially when she bought the board game for Christmas.

She can NEVER NEVER know.

Please let me know. Is it just me?

In which I bite the bullet....

So, another long break, and a lot to catch up on, but I’ll try to be brief….

Number 1: the job situation.

I dithered and dithered for 6 weeks until about 10 minutes before I had to give my decision to HR, when I finally confided to a friend at work about my work dilemma versus the baby making situation. She looked at me as though I was mad, and actually said “are you MAD? Of COURSE you have to take the job they are offering you here.” The mist cleared, I realised she was right, and trotted off to HR to accept the job.

And contrary to all expectations I am actually really enjoying it…..

Number 2: the baby making situation.

The clinic insisted I went for lots of tests to check my fertility etc before they would start discussing next steps. I really did NOT appreciate just what my friends with children went through.

I have no dignity left.

The first sign of things to come was when I went for the first scan. I assumed it would be a pelvic scan, I’d bare a discreet amount of tummy and that would be it.

How naive.

I was about to get on the couch when the nurse said to me, “you do realise it’s an internal don’t you?” and got out what I can only describe as a gigantic dildo. At one point she said she’d lost my left ovary, but not to worry. How can you mislay an ovary? There’s only so many places it can be surely?

Since then I’ve been prodded and poked, invaded with tubes and dyes and X-rays, and generally spent so much time with my feet in stirrups that I’ve started getting vertigo when standing upright, and automatically assume the position when going to bed at night.

And the bad news is that the final results of all these tests are not very good, and they’re going to give me a try for a couple of cycles with IUI and lots of nasty fertility drugs/injections, then it’s straight on to IVF. First try is early Feb so please send lots of positive thoughts my way.

Number 3: the Bald Bloke situation

BB has been around quite a lot the last few months, mostly as part of our group of mutual friends, with the odd evening by ourselves on a “friends” type footing. Then just after Christmas, I invited him and his young son (who was staying with him for a couple of days) round for dinner….and he basically stayed for the next 5 days and thoroughly spoiled me. Though he stayed nights, it was all fairly innocent with me just falling asleep in his arms. (But you don’t do naked cuddles with friends, do you?).

So during that time I lived in a lovely warm cosy bubble, feeling very protected and cared for, though still not too sure what was happening, trying to forget that there was something very important I REALLY should tell him and every chance he would go AWOL when I did……

Conversation on Day 6 (last Sunday morning) went something like this:

Me: “there’s something I need to talk to you about, and I’ve been dreading it because I’m not sure how you’re going to react”

BB: “you put poison in the fish pie last night”

Me: “Just the usual low dose of arsenic. No…well its not really a secret, it's just I didn’t know how to say…(waffle, waffle)…I had some tests done recently and basically if I want a baby it’s now or never….”

BB: (silence. looking inscrutable. possibly a little terrified)

Me: “I’ve gone to a clinic and start IVF treatment in about 4 weeks, but I can only afford to try 3 or 4 times and the odds aren’t good”

BB: (long pause) “Have you thought about acupuncture? That’s supposed to increase your chances to about 60%?”

Me: (stunned silence)

BB: “I can understand why you have to do this.” (pause). “Shall we go for that walk now?” (and later, when walking past mother with toddler throwing major tantrum) “That could be you soon!”.

So now we’re both back to work and relative normality. I got a text from him on Monday “Are you OK? ;o) X” but nothing since, though that’s not unusual when he’s working (can’t multitask).

Given the complicated situation, the best case would be that we stay friends. But as he has a history of disappearing out of my life with minimal cause, and that I’ve now given him a gigantic MAMMOTH size reason to do so, I think I’ll just give him some space and see what happens…

In which life gets more complicated...

Well I still haven't loaded those wedding photos, and have been incredibly lax (again) about updating my blog. Then this morning, while waiting in for the aga man, the gutter man and Bald Bloke, my blogging conscience gave up pricking me with a pin and got out a dirty great sledgehammer. So, on with the latest Blonde installment.....

I found out in dribs and drabs over the last 2 weeks that the department I work in is being restructured, and oops, as of 1st Oct my "role is now redundant" as are the jobs of 3 good workfriends. Apparently I get the official letter on monday, then enter a 30 day period of "consultation" where they try to find me another job. So far, all they have come up with is the old job I had before being promoted, which although having gone through several job titles was more or less what I had been doing for the past 10 years. I know I should be grateful to at least have this option, especially in these uncertain times and given that I don't have a partner with another income. BUT I'M NOT.

I'm pissed off.

At least I am today.

Yesterday I was depressed and tearful; on Wednesday I was ridiculously cheerful and telling myself "don't be such a drama queen, all will be fine, you always land on your feet"; on Tuesday I was full of self pity and internally wailing "why me?"; on Monday I was in superwoman mode frantically calling round my network and feeling empowered.....and so on.

There is a possibility of a job in another company, which actually sounds pretty perfect, but.....this is where my dilemma re what to do gets a bit more complex.

Having been let down again by another potential sperm donor, I decided to go to an open evening at a new fertility centre that has opened in Hove. After a fairly depressing presentation with lots of statistics about fertility decline (apparently 5% chance of pregnancy in each cycle for 40-42 yr age group), and a daunting price list for donor insemination, I accepted that at nearly 41 I really don't have time to wait anymore. But how will that fit in with the job situation? I can't very well turn up pregnant on my first day at a new company. But if I accept my old job back, it will involve some travelling and I'm also not sure it would fit in with my plans to work part-time. Hmmm. Not sure there's an easy answer to this one.

As another minor complication, well... not so much complication but more of a background what's going on here thing, Bald Bloke has been around quite a bit. Initially to do some work for me (the massive wooden gate he built is beautiful), but increasingly also as a friendly social thing. And I do like having an alpha male around - it makes me feel very protected. Arty Girl is suspicious about his motives, and didn't help my current "baby fever" by telling me he said he could imagine having a baby with me (he doesn't know about the donor plans). Given our history, and that he tends to be more of a talking and less of a doing anything about it bloke, I can't imagine this would EVER happen or work out, or that I even would want it to. But every so often I catch myself having a fleeting daydream, and have to give myself a good shake: Stop it Blonde! He's not a big tempting balding sperm machine. Put those hormones away.

But now back to the main dilemma. What do I do? I only have 30 days to find out all my options and make a decision.

Right now I'm thinking I'm going to trust to fate, and get myself down the clinic.

Blonde Moments Giveaway!!!

I'm feeling very smug. The lovely Mel at Country In the Town hosted a giveaway.....AND I WON!!! (I haven't worked out how to put a link in blog text, but she's listed on my favourite blogs). I'm eagerly anticipating a delivery of some lovely girly chintzy things, including a cushion made and embroidered by her own fair hands.

The gifts are themed along the same lines as her blog, which is about re-decorating her home, making crafty Cath-Kidston-inspired things, and displaying her acquisitions from car boot sales and charity shops. This got me thinking about what Blog-related items I could put in my own Blonde Moments giveaway.

Here is my list.

1. A minature bottle of Vodka (fits easily into handbag/office drawer for use in event of unexpected drama)
2. Pack of 20 Benson & Hedges Silver
3. A tin of banana flavoured Slimfast and a bottle of laxatives
4. St Johns Wort (to prevent depressive blog posts)
5. Evening Primrose Oil (see above)
6. "Men who can't love: how to recognise a committment phobic before he breaks your heart" by Steven Carter and Julia Sokol (slightly dog-eared condition)
7. Self-insemination kit and some fertility test sticks (unused)
8. A partially disembowelled bird (gift from cats)
9. A Sarah Arnett dress (acually, no....don't think I could bear to split up the collection...)
10. A big bar of 90% cocoa chocolate (health benefits cancel out calories)

If anyone would like to put their name in the hat, just leave a comment on this post.........

(P.S. news from the wedding once I've found my camera!)

Honey

I have just come across the most incredibly moving blog. I have no words. Read.....

http://honeylettingoffsteam.blogspot.com/2009/07/pema-is-born-in-pure-joy.html

Desperate measures....

Day 3 of taking diet to desperate extremes.

I've now cut out salad and vodka. That only leaves cigarettes and vitamin pills. (Sudden thought....PANIC....are they sugar-coated???).

This is how I would like to look:


Unfortunately, this is how I will actually look:

I'm thinking now that a nice discreet beige might have been a better choice of colour (may disappear when stood in front of the marquee?), or even something in a camoflage style print (stand very still and pretend to be part of a large plant arrangement?). .....

Big red tomato

I've finally made a decision on what to wear to the wedding next Friday. This is after buying at least 8 dresses and changing my mind constantly over the last few weeks. So difficult. And made more difficult because Arty Girl, Canary and friends are all tiny weeny petite size zero things, and I'm currently the size of a small bungalow. Plus, Bald Bloke will be there and I really need to live down the maxi dress nipple exposing episode.

Anyway, this is the dress. I finally got up my nerve to try it on after a week's diet consisting solely of salad, vodka and cigarettes (and copious vitamin/mineral supplements - important to be healthy) . Even so, it needed the combined efforts of AG and Canary to get the zip up, and I can barely breathe or move. God knows how I'm going to get into the taxi to get there. What I really need is one of those disabled vans that is super tall, or a pope-mobile type arrangement, then I won't need to sit down?

Next question was shoes (another probem, as I can't actually bend down to put them on). The consensus was to find some red ballet shoes, so off I went yesterday to a dancewear store in town. The woman was very polite, but I could see her thinking "what does an overweight, middle-aged woman with feet the size of plates want with ballet shoes?"

Really hoping that I won't look like a very round, very red tomato.

I'm also praying very VERY hard that the zip won't break.

Girl and Goat

Just got new camera.


Arty Girl.

One of Arty Girl's paintings.

Bloody talented friends.

The Seagull and the Canary

Had to share this - a recent Quote Book classic after a few weeks drought.....

The Canary had had her feathers ruffled. Her BF, with the complete disregard of consequences only exhibited by the male species, had suggested that her longstanding (dancer-related) hip problem might be caused by the "funny way you walk".

Canary wailed "but I walk properly, all the way THROUGH my feet, from my heel to the ball and toe. I ARTICULATE my walk. I WALK PROPERLY!"

BMFs thoughts on this?

"It's the Canary and the Seagull. The Canary articulates its walk through its feet. The Seagull walks flatfooted. You therefore compensate for your Canary nature by taking on the Seagull."

I got the following text from her when she got back home:

"Back safely and in bed. Had problems getting the leg braces off though."

Bru....NO!!!

During my long search for a potential sperm donor on a website where donors post pictures and a short biog, I have deliberated long and hard when trying to decide upon a potential biological father. After viewing hundreds of profiles, and meeting a few shortlisted potentials, I haven't yet been able to find a suitable donor: "too short", "too creepy", "looks like a paedophile", "says he has abnormal sperm", "is using site to find a girlfriend", "lives in Russia", "wants to create a master race". That kind of thing.

But I did finally come up with a final decision on the name I'd like for a boy.

"Bruno".

It's not that common, it's nice and manly, it doesn't sound too ridiculous on a 2yr old, it doesn't rule out a significant number of career options in the future (working equally well for a doctor or a builder), and I've never met anyone with this name that might give me pause for thought.

I really like it. Or so I thought.....

BMF has just shown me a clip on YouTube of Sacha Baron Cohens new character. Have a look at this link. If I wasn't so devastated, it would be very funny.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpjFPOKx90w

Cider and sympathy

I saw Bald Bloke last Sunday - the first time in quite a few months.

Arty Couple were relaxing in my garden and we got around to discussing my wonky garden gate. Someone tried to break in a couple of years ago but it's just one of those jobs that I put off, whinge about every so often, and then do nothing about. Though I have managed a "temporary" solution involving a wooden spoon to hold the gate together and an obstacle course along the garden path. (I suspect any burglar would probably step around this fairly niftily, but it has been a very useful early warning system when friends drop by unexpectedly and I'm sunbathing in my knickers - not a pretty sight.)

Anyway, by coincidence Bald Bloke phoned Arty couple's mobile as we were sitting and discussing the gate, and they suggested to him he might want to fix it as he's not busy at the moment (BB being a builder). The next thing I knew he had decided to drop by and take a look. Unfortunately, after a few hours in the sun I was looking decidedly cack, with hair a frizzy matted mess and my face covered in a greasy film of sweat and factor 50 water resistant sun lotion (the type that is so thick and white it gives your skin a bluish hue when applied). I also had a maxi dress on that was doing exactly that for my figure (ie making me look maxi). This look was completed when I trod on the hem on getting up to say hello, and exposed most of my right boob; white bits, nipple hair and all. Not exactly how you want to look when an Ex turns up.

So he took a look at the gate, and did a bit of builder-like prodding and shaking of broken bits and posts, then we all sat in the sun drinking cider. After a while Arty Couple left, and it got a little stilted and awkward, and I started telling BB all sorts of inconsequential and boring stuff to help fill the silence. Then I made the faux-pax of asking about his best friend, and it all started coming out. At one point his eyes were welling up, and I thought "you poor poor man". He seemed so sad and subdued. His dreams have been disillusioned, his friends are lost, and he is resigned to being alone. I just listened mostly - what can you say? At least he still has Arty Girl as a good friend.

On his way out he said "I'll give you a call in the week about that gate, R" and gave me a peck on the cheek.

Needless to say he hasn't called.

Some things at least haven't changed.

Funny Thursday

Another truly awful joke going round the IM system at work:

"Sadly the UKs only dating agency for chickens had to close today due to the recession.

They couldn't make hens meet."

Wheeeee!!! (Oh bugger)

I've just realised that I'm hurtling headlong into the murky depths of middleage at something close to the speed of light. Not too sure when I took that first foolish step off the diving board, but evidence is mounting that it may have been some time ago.

1. I obsess about and fuss over my cats far far FAR too much.
2. I last went clubbing 2 years ago.
3. I no longer WANT to go clubbing (very bad sign)
4. Last night (a Friday), BMF asked if I felt like going out. I replied "No thanks, I fancy an early night curling up with a good book".
5. I worry about getting an early night on worknights.
6. I love cooking and would far rather have friends round for dinner than go out.
7. I've always gone for the older man, but have now realised this means they would be worryingly close to collecting their bus pass.
8. When I meet new men I often think to myself "God, they are SOooo middle-aged". Then I realise they are about the same age as me and start thinking about something else very quickly.
9. Many of my friends who left getting married pretty late, have now been married for years and have several children.
10. Other friends have grown up children.
11. I refer to my team at work as "the children"
12. I enjoy listening to Classic FM and Magic radio
13. I've started enjoying gardening.
14. Shopping trips for new clothes are now more likely to end up at Cath Kidston (Glamorous Mother: "No thanks darling, I won't borrow that. It looks like something my grandmother used to wear.")

There is some hope still though.
1. I don't believe in comfortable shoes. If they're not high enough to cause a serious injury when I fall over then they're not for me.
2. ......

Nope. Thats all I can think of.

Help!!!!!!!!!

Amused or frustrated? A bit of both....

An article I just saw on the BBC News website made me smile.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/london/8143364.stm

Apparently, a study to measure levels of activity has been foiled by some creative pre-teens. They were given pedometers to measure how much walking and running they do over the period of a week. Researchers were puzzled by the very high levels of activity seen in many of the children, especially so in those that were, ahem, a little chunky. Until they realised that these "hyperactive" kids had actually been attaching the pedometers to their pet dogs (presumably walked by mum or dad).......

I've worked in research for several years, as well as having been a nurse many years ago, and am no longer surprised by what some patients will do. Part of me is secretly amused by their attempts to buck the system (a British trait I think), but it can be pretty frustrating when you're trying to get real answers to important questions! When I was working with a sleep clinic a few years ago I remember hearing a similar story

It was in a study on truck drivers to identify if they were having "micro-dozes" while driving. This is probably not that uncommon as it is a symptom of Sleep Apnoea at night, and SA patients are typically big guys with thick necks and a bit of a belly who like a beer or two. Longterm, SA can result in serious health problems, but there is the more immediate risk of unintentionally "micro-dozing" during the day and causing an accident if doing anything with machines/cars/lorries. (Does your bloke do that thing where he snores heavily then stops breathing for a bit? See a GP). They are also driving very long distances on very long, very straight motorways, for very long periods of time. Understandably, some of these guys were very worried about both losing their licences and livelihood, so attached their monitors to pets in the cab. I heard of one that used a hamster.....

Maybe these are the fathers of the kids in the activity study?

Me again...

Well I've been very lax at updating my blog. The trouble seems to be I either have nothing very interesting happening and don't want to blog along the lines of..."well I got up this morning, went to work, came home, watched a bit of telly, went to bed...". Or there is so much going on I don't have time to write and then when I do find I've forgotton half of what I've done (though that could be the vodka tonics). Plus I keep finding these amazing blogs by people with interesting lives or real problems and I wonder what I'm doing blogging at all.

So apologies if this is a bit long, rambling and mundane...ZZzzz....

Recent Blonde Moment news is from my week on holiday with Arty Couple at their relatives villa in Spain. Absolutely bloody gorgeous. I was a bit apprehensive beforehand, because though I've spent many a day and evening with them, and count them as very close friends, it's potentially rather different to spend a whole week with a couple (as a single), especially when they're soon-to-be-married. However, completely needless worrying. We had the most relaxing and lovely time, chatting, sunbathing by the pool, looking round run-down properties for their next project, lying on the beach with not an English tourist in sight.....

Also had a very entertaining girls night out that ended up at the only English bar in the town, complete with local "Handbags", and a bar owner bearing an uncanny resemblence to Mick Hucknall (XXXL size) who serenaded us all night with some pretty dodgy "luuurve" songs of the pub variety. Priceless. Plus an eighty yr old ex-pat with a twinkle in his eye, who had recently joined friends re-united dating, and was expecting a couple of ladies to join him at his villa shortly. He thought MH was great. "Just think - I get it 4 nights a week! Every week!". Looking back, I'm not entirely sure if he was referring to MH's vocals or the two ladies he was expecting..... The high point though was when Arty Girl got up to dance (she dances very well, and fairly suggestively). The Handbags did not appreciate this competition one bit. After some employing some "interesting" tactics to realign male attention (one bizarrely started doing plie's, another attempted the splits) they left the dance floor with very grim expressions.

The Michael Jackson moment was strange. We kept hearing his name on Spanish radio but didn't realise what had happened. Driving home from the beach, an obituary came on an English local station. Not really listening, then thinking we had misheard or it was a play....then realisation. Arty Girl cried. I don't think we'll ever know the truth about the child abuse accusations, but I wonder if it was a case of naivity and not understanding "normal" boundaries that was exploited and embroidered by people with dollar signs in their eyes. Who knows. But what is certain is that his life was pretty tragic, and he leaves behind three children that obviously worshipped him and will grow up with the legacy of his history (bad and good).

So back home to more sunshine, and few days chilling out in the garden before returning to work. Lovely. However........it turned out that I'm minus Cat One. He had gone missing the evening after I left, and I think BMF was hoping he'd turn up with no-one the wiser, so he left it 5 days before calling Lovely Upstairs Neighbour and Canary for advice. LUN had a few stern words at leaving it that long before telling him exactly what to do (bless!). Eventually it turned out he had been taken in by an elderly lady a few streets away (worryingly the other side of the very busy road where he was run over a year ago). BMF asked her if she could continue to look after him until I returned - I think he couldn't take the responsibility any more knowing how precious I am about the cats. Though seriously, how difficult is it? Feed them twice a day, give them a bit of fuss and a few tummy rubs, that's it. I've never had a problem leaving for hols with sitters before (thanks LUN and Canary). Anyway, I knew nothing of this until I was waiting for the train back from Gatwick and got a call from BMF on my mobile - the ensuing hysterics were probably heard for several miles. But as a result of the temporary rehoming, I now have a cat that keeps going AWOL, is completely confused about where home is, and to cap it off has suspected pancreatitis from being given cheap cat food. The vet has prescribed fresh fish daily, some pills, blood tests, keeping him indoors for a couple of weeks (which also means Cat Two) and Feliway diffusers (cat pheromone scent - ie pretty much cat heroin). So I also have a very big vet and (cat) food bill and a garden room that smells of cat litter.

Think I'll book the cattery next time!

**************************************************

PS re the last blog - BMF was absolutely lovely and understanding. He's staying for another 4 months and will use the time to pick up his finances and find somewhere else to stay. We're stiil good friends. Phew!

**************************************************
PPS Bugger. Cat One escaped and has gone AWOL again. Even microwaving and wafting premium cod fillet has not done the trick. Looks like I'll have to cancel the follow up vets appointment tomorrow morning.