Yesterday I went up to the big smoke to see the specialist at the London Migraine Clinic. It all went swimmingly well, and she will be writing to my Gp to tell him how and when to treat me, and what medication is required. It's a bloody huge relief, I'm finally going to get some pain management, which should make coping a bit easier. Also, studies have shown that for cluster headaches to persist in adult males in their forties is rare, so there is an upside to the dreaded soon to be birthday.

I went on the train. For the first time in years, I had a trip which could actually work on public transport. Going up was fine. I read the paper and spent a lot of time mooching out of the window at the vast expanses of water that currently make up the English countryside. There are those that love London, and big cities in general, and I am fully appreciative for their reasons for doing so, but, every time I visit London or any city, I am truly thankful that I live tucked away in the sticks. I find it noisy and smelly, and struggle with the sheer volume of people. I spent around fifty minutes in total on the tube. If I had to do that every day I would scream long slow agonising howls. It's bloody horrible.

Anyway, after the fruitful consultation with the head doctor, I set off to met an old friend for a drink. An old girlfriend in fact. We were bf/gf in our early teens at school, and I've only seen her once since we went our separate ways. It really was great to catch up. Funny how you change. I'm married with children, and she's still single, which is probably the opposite of how we would have viewed ourselves twenty odd years ago.

The train was late on the way back, and I didn't get into the station until 10.40, but I had a good book, and a rather yummy selection of sushi I'd grabbed from a Japanese food stall in Piccadilly.
London does have its uses, you try getting decent sushi in rural Worcestershire !