By Saturday I was starting to feel that giving up boozing might be a bit over-rated so I decided to have just the one glass of champagne when we went to friends for dinner. Naturally, I didn't have just the one but I didn't have very much to drink so was most unhappy to wake up on the sunday morning with a killer hangover concentrated mostly around a headache, feeling quite shaky and generally crapolic. Sunday passed as these days do and then I woke up on Monday morning feeling just as terrible as I did on Sunday and by this time I was ready to complain to the hangover department for sending me more than my fair share. There have been times when I have had a two-day hangover but not after a relatively sedate dinner party. On Monday afternoon I realised that we'd got funny weather with very high pressure but lots of clouds – I think that if we'd been further south then it would have been classified as a foehn. When we were in Switzerland I used to get vague symptoms which fitted with foehns and I really dislike the fact that I respond in this way; for some reason it feels a bit weak and Victorian and I'm going to end up being the sort of woman who has to swoon on her sofa or in a more modern parlance – has allergies. Before you know it I'll be having issues. (When I was a child I used to have nosebleeds before thunderstorms which all sounds a bit Stephen Kingish)
Although foehns can have an effect on mental well-being I think it was just my normal levels of paranoia that kicked in on Sunday morning when my supervisor from the hospital telephoned me and asked me if I would support a lady who was being moved to a nursing home near to where I live and that if I did that I didn't have to do my usual work on the ward. Because of having problems in stringing a sentence together in English let alone German I didn't question this at the time and instead lay on the sofa and gave full reign to the fact that toast nurse had complained about me (she'd told me that she couldn't understand what I was saying and then was rather off-hand with me) and that I was being moved. In the end, I reckoned that given that my supervisor is german and that the german language may have a word for tact this doesn't mean that anyone actually knows what it means. If she wanted shot of me from the ward then she'd have said 'get off the ward, no one likes you and you smell of wee'. Just to be on the safe side I rang her up and checked that I could still work on the ward (I'd promised a visit to someone and needed to make sure that someone would visit) Sure enough, everything was fine and she just hadn't wanted to overload me with work so I'm doing my normal morning in the hospital and then seeing someone a couple of times a week in the nursing home.
Today I collected my hospital ID and a key to the changing room and no one questioned me or found it odd that I was there. I went around the ward for a while and chatted to a couple of ladies who claimed they didn't want anything but then got me to sit with them for a whle so they could grill me on where I came from, where Johnny worked, what I do, where I live, family status, why am I in Germany and they seemed relatively happy with this. Then another lady said that I was very chic and had lovely skin. Brought back to earth pretty rapidly when I went to see an old man who said that I should start a lot earlier in the morning because he'd had to get his own paper and basically I was a waste of space. So, not a bad time all round.