Rowan Tree and Red Thread

Ken left Cork on Saturday. He packed up everything last week, fought the good fight trying to get his phone and broadband service disconnected (good old Eircom), and was all day in work on Friday before driving up to Dublin at the weekend. I'm sad to see him go. He was a really good friend to have in Cork, and a real asset to our circle of friends. I hope he'll stay in touch from Belgium, and that he has a good time there in the new job.

On Friday I had my six-month appointment with Rogers, the urologist who dealt with my exciting kidney stone adventures last year. My x-ray came up clear but the 24 hour urine test still showed elevated levels of calcium. (It was 9.5 rather than in the normal range of 2.5 -- 7.5, but still down from 14 as it was last year. God knows what the units are.) He's referring me to a specialist nephrologist in the CUH to look at the kidney metabolism. There may be more dietary changes to make, even though I can't say I've been particularly good about it so far.

I briefly wondered if nanotech bacteria might be replacing my bones with metals and leaving me to excrete the excess calcium, but I doubt it. The x-rays don't support my flight of fancy. Poo to reality.

Saw Lost in Translation last night on DVD. I enjoyed it, although it was as slow-moving as other people said it was. The comedy elements of culture shock in the first half fell away as the movie progressed and it focused more on the relationship between Charlotte and Bob (Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray) with a fairly nicely played knife-edge of 'will they, won't they' in the unstated sexual attraction. Murray and Johansson were very good, but I felt the slip in Bob's fidelity with the bar-singer was a slightly jarring. Believable enough, I suppose, but it felt a little abrupt. A good film nonetheless.