'A long stay denizen of the Sanatorium', The last meal request before the cockcrows and the golden sunrise illuminates the color of faded limes along the green mile.

Good evening beautiful people

Tonight I find myself home alone, a privilege and a pleasure I am very rarely afforded.  On the eve of my imminent exclusion from the general populace, a long stay denizen of the Infirmary, though previous experiences would warrant the title of 'A long stay denizen of the Sanatorium', I have put my affairs in order. Priority was given as follows;

1)  The Sky+ has been cleaned up and the following weeks TV schedule has been programmed and series linked

2)  The larder has had a stock-take and replenished accordingly.

3)  Fridge and freezer have been checked and all my fresh homemade meals have been frozen, dated and labelled, along with instructions.

4)  The microwave has been removed and hidden under the stairs.

5)  Two dozen books have been chosen and packed.

6)  Supply of tobacco has been rationed.

7)  All things deemed as 'Chocolate Crisply Crunchelies' have been bagged.

8)  Ipod fully charged and 'The Archers Omnibus' podcasts have been downloaded (Yea, OK..............I know)


9)  My lovely newly purchased hooded bunny rabbit dressing gown with floppy bunny ears and matching slippers, has been packed.

10) My Last Will and Testament has been reexamined and revised. The charming, delectable and divine Miss Joolz Greenlees will acquire my Slow Cooker and all my handwritten recipe books. All my beloved 'Crag Rats' will each recieve an item of Pen-y-ghent malodorous bog stained clothing. Emu will inherit my 'Dregs Session' bar stool. The housemates will be left with my cat...and my debts.

I feel like the condemned man, deliberating over his last meal request before the cockcrows and the golden sunrise illuminates the color of faded limes along the green mile. I have been brooding over this great decision all day. I covet a mighty feast before I am forced fed a diet of soggy, floppy toast, rehydrated powdered potato, undercooked or 'boiled to death' veg and an array of gravy ponds with chunks of dead animal meat and fats embedded in it's coagulated surface, often disguised on the menu under the illustrious and tempting titles Beef Bourguignon, Chicken Chassuer, Pork & Apple, Lamb Casserole and so on.

Well, I have finally made my decision.

I will shortly be gorging on the biggest, fattest Doner Kebab this town has to offer. I want it loaded with strips of succulent, self-basted spit-roasted spiced lamb, large helpings of raw onion, tomato, cucumber and lettuce and topped with lashings of mint yoghurt and hot chilli sauces, all wrapped up in a huge warm naan bread. A feast of behemothic proportions, a feast fit to quell the pains of famishment of the ravenous vagabond. There will be no dining etiquette. There will be no guests. Just me, me boxers ('CAUSE I CAN), me 'curry top' (we've all got one, haven't we?) me beer and me cat.

Another couple of beers then one shall make that call...better keep my pants on till the delivery guy has been.


Love, peace and catch you all on the otherside people

Sleep well and stay safe............Cluski