After twenty minutes of being amazed by what human ingenuity can dream up it's time to move on and surf the soaps. I've been following Scrubs, Dynasty ( my goodness is that what the 70's really looked like ?), Friends, CSI Miami ( is there anyone left alive in Florida ?) and Cheers. Two new series appeared this week - The Gilmore Girls and Glee. It's a bit difficult following the plot in French but as far as I can see the Gilmore Girls is about Lorelei who runs an inn , has a daughter called Rory, and a haradin of a mother whose name I've yet to catch. Lorelei seems to spend her day drinking coffee with a tall man wearing a baseball cap. Apart from that nothing else happens. Glee seems to have even less of a plot. Evil gym mistress hates well meaning choir teacher . She tries to get him fired but his choir sing beautifully, win a medal and secure his future . Perhaps the story lines will develop and the reason for the antipathy between the two teachers will become apparent. There again maybe not.
Digby's weight has fallen from 25 kilos to just 18 kilos over the last two weeks. The latest antibiotics have stopped the infection but induce severe nausea. The only way he can eat or drink anything is if it's dribbled into his mouth with a syringe. We've now decided to stop the antibiotics altogether and try to get some weight back on him - time for some new thinking . A happy hour was spent trying to get him to eat - tiny slivers of minced chicken, liver, salmon and roast ham were all rejected with a turn of the head. Then a breakthrough. Poached white fish. He used to have this as a puppy as a special treat. For the last six days he hasn't had the strength to move but as the cod simmered on the stove he unexpectedly arrived in the kitchen . Something deep, deep in his memory triggered a response. We tried a few tiny flakes which were wolfed down. At five he managed to eat some fish and porridge out of the palm of my hand. His first solid meal in a week ! Even better - a peaceful night - the first small victory against this horrid disease. At this rate I might be able to stop watching soaps in the wee hours.