I’ve been meaning to blog aplenty about the Welsh Assembly elections amongst many other things, but unfotunately - as ever - real life has intervened.  I’ve had a bad bout of tonsillitis (the first ever!), which has left me feeling rotten and not in the mood to do much.  The one thing I have been doing is trying to get William seen at the hospital, something which has taken maximum persistence.

However, last Friday it all paid off and we finally got to see a neurologist and have the CT Scan I’ve been waiting for William to have for what seems like forever.  Despite my most rational thoughts, I could not quite put aside the fear that he had pressure onto his brain from somewhere - resulting in both the movement problems and the turns that appeared in both his eyes.  I knew that he should also be fitting/blacking out, if this was the case, but in the middle of the night, you always fear the worst.

The actual diagnosis wasn’t as bad as I’d feared (and bearing in mind we’d been everywhere through rickets to arthritis the fear was fairly large!).  Basically, when William was born (prematurely, as you may recall), part of the white matter (which is located at the back of his brain) hadn’t fully developed.  The white matter helps to move transmissions within the brain - but doesn’t process the information itself (which, I believe, is where your grey matter comes in).  The white matter is also linked to movement, which is where it is affecting William.  There is nothing really they can do about it.  He’ll probably have physiotherapy and may have orthotics (which are special pieces in shoes that help posture).  It’s also linked to his eye problems - but won’t affect them doing surgery, if they want to, to straighten his eyes out.

William won’t ever be an Olympic gymnast, but then again, I think that was always a long-shot, given my genetic leanings (to obesity) and his father’s genetic leanings (to be unco-ordinated - you want to see the man dance!).  So, we finally are arriving at the end of the beggining.  William has to have another scan (an MRI this time to confirm diagnosis) which he will need to be sedated for and we’ll have a meeting with his neurologist to talk about next steps.  He actually went through the “big doughnut” (CT Scan Machine) fully awake and with eyes on stalks - a complete star and as co-operative as ever.

We’ve had a quiet weekend to take in the news and get over what feels like a battle, just to get him seen.  At least now we know we can push him to take exercise, because we’re really not doing any damage.  He also won’t be getting away with the “carry me!” excuses of old (those “wobbly” legs are something the boy is just going to have to get used to!).  The other thing the consultant said was that he’s likely to be quite bright - as the brain will concentrate on the grey matter stuff, which I suppose is also something on the positive scale.

So, now you’re all up to date, I can actually get back to blogging about other stuff!

Another Friday, another Revolver gig.  As ever, the boys performed a tight and interesting set, although without any Morrissey, which was a personal disappointment.  There was an impression that they may have been “going through the motions” on some of the tracks, but nonetheless, an enjoyable time.

Supporting this time were a new Barry Band, The Big Differents.  A young band - students at Cardiff and UWIC if my memory serves - playing a mix that tips it’s hat to reggae, ska as well as some more modern indie bands.  The lead singer seemed to be having a bit of an identity crisis during the first two numbers (somewhere between the lead singers of the Ordinary Boys and Arctic Monkeys) but seemed to pull it together after that.  The three-piece certainly have a good presence on stage, especially for a band who’ve only played a handful of gigs.

After their set, I got chatting to the drummer.  Turns out - and this is the beauty of the Gene Puddle - he is the guy who I’ve sat listening to from our garden practising on the barmier nights recently.  You wouldn’t get that in a big city!

Sadly, we had to take Snooks to the vets yesterday as her condition had significantly worsened.  The vet confirmed that she had the early stages of renal failure and so she was gently allowed to drift off.

I thought I would be incredibly upset.  However, although I’m sad to have lost her - and the house is quieter without her mewings for food, attention, the back-door to be opened, etc. I know it was entirely the right decision and only wish it was one we were able - as thinking adults - to make for ourselves.

We have no idea how old Snooks really was - given that she just arrived one day on our toaster, a fully mature cat.  The vet thought she might be anything up to about 17.  That’s a good age in cat terms.

RIP - Snooks - 1990 - 2007