Tomorrow I have to pee into a piss-o-meter…or something that ought to have a name like that. I’ve finally got fed up with going to the loo twice a night so went to the doc a few weeks ago. [Close you eyes now if you’re squeamish!] She stuck a finger up my bum and confirmed that my prostate is a little enlarged, but not scarily lumpy. [Fine. You can start reading again.] Anyway, she referred me for more checks.

So this machine – I think – is going to measure how hard I can pee. As the nice lady doctor asked “Are you not exactly cracking the porcelain?” Er, no.


In other developments, after the less than perfect trip to Cornwall, Otherphil decided to try out the storms last Saturday. I couldn’t join him because I was working. He did a short reach, got catapulted and the board and sail parted company. Otherphil was left swimming the 600 yards back to shore with a rig that didn’t want to float. His new board (500.UKP) was washed into a groin where it got ruined!

He needs to get ‘back on the horse’, so hopefully I can persuade him to come out again on Sunday.

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