Song Of The Week XXX + Much Mania

After k.d. lang sang Hallelujah at Cambridge last weekend I haven't been able to get the song out of my head, so it has to be song of the week. Naturally.
That was the easy decision.
Deciding who to choose as the singer was the tougher choice.
So I didn't choose.
Well, I did, but a selection...

k.d. lang:


Jeff Buckley:


John Cale:


Rufus Wainwright:


Kathryn Williams:


Leonard Cohen:


This has to be one of the most beautiful songs that exist.
Every single time I hear it, it gives me goosebumps, it's good enough to move you to tears.

***
So, the past few days has been rather manic. I woke on Wednesday morning after a really good nights sleep and was lazing in bed relaxing when the phone rang. It was Mum and 15 minutes later I was rushing her to hospital with suspected appendicitis. I spent almost all day at the hospital while they decided what they were going to do with her, I was sure she was going to be admitted although they wouldn't swear to that at any point. Once she was relatively settled I had to head to the barn and to the doctor. Good news was that the lump in my neck isn't sinister, although the way it disappears behind my collarbone feels weird. I'm being referred for tests on my right arm which sounds like lots of fun. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome or Tendonitis.
Baking is officially bad for you!
I had tendonitis in my foot once, although that was called Plantar fasciitis, impressive non? I am a walking disaster area.

Anyway, Tim decided to fly back into the UK, so it was a drive to Stansted on Thursday. Mum had been scheduled in for surgery on Thursday too, some time after 10am. However when Tim and I returned and visited at 5.30pm, she was still on the ward awaiting surgery. We stayed until the end of visiting at 9pm and on the way home proclaimed it impossible she have surgery that night. But a little after 10pm they shot off with her to take out that mean appendix.

It's now Monday and after a few days of recovery I shall be heading off to collect Mum and take her home. You always feel better once you get home and can do what you want, when you want, in peace.
Sadly, she was supposed to be heading to France on Saturday, the one just gone, but has been decreed safe for flying, so after a week she'll be jetting off to France too.
Still, at least the sun is shining here now.
I can hang out the washing on my wonky washing line.

Before I sign off, I must relate the tale of the car park karma faery getting the better of me.
On Wednesday I spoke to the folks at main reception at the hospital, as although they don't advertise the fact - you only have to pay one parking fee a day. So, I got a free ticket to leave after my second visit. The same happened on Thursday after my second visit. On Friday Tim had visited twice and I had only made one visit, but their prices are extortionate so Mum said to tell them I'd already been.
So I did.
I managed to get McGrumpy-Pants on reception who berated me for not having obtained a receipt at my first visit. I explained that neither receptionist on the previous two days had told me this. She duly gave me a free ticket. I went back to the car and drove to the exit. Now, the windows don't work on my car, so I have to drive past the ticket machine, insert ticket, leap back in my car and drive in time for the barrier to go up. This I did. The barrier didn't move. I looked back and my ticket was sticking out of the machine with the words "Card Unreadable. See Cashier" displayed above.
I removed the card. I reinserted it. The exact same thing happened.
Thanking my lucky stars that no one was behind me, I backed up the car, parked it again, returned to reception whilst cursing the karma faery. A girl was blathering away at the receptionist so I waited for the babble to end, before telling the receptionist my card didn't work.
"Did you put it near your mobile phone?" she asked.
"No" I said, "I saw the note on the card not to, so I kept it in my purse, away from my phone."
"Do you have bank cards in your purse?" she queried.
"Yes", of course I bloody do, it's my fricking purse I thought.
"They can wipe the ticket too" she snootily told me.
Really, where the fuck are you supposed to keep the bloody ticket? You're not allowed to bend the things either.
She went on to ask me if I'd already paid, I reminded her I'd only just been there - seriously, I have scarlet hair, I'm fairly recognisable.
So, finally she issued me with a new ticket, which I treated with kid gloves.
I drove back to the exit. Jumped out of the car. Inserted ticket. Jumped back into car.
The barrier didn't move.
I looked back.
My ticket was again sticking out of the machine.
The display read "Please take your ticket".
Seriously, every other day it's kept the ruddy thing.
Ticket retrieved, escape made. Hurrah!
But, oh carpark karma faery, I have learnt my lesson.