Best Albums 2011

OK All

A complete departure from all this cancer stuff, here are my top albums for 2011.

1. Helplessness Blues - Fleet Foxes
2. Go-Go Boots - Drive-By-Truckers
3. The King Is Dead - The Decemberists
4. No Time For Dreaming - Charles Bradley
5. Blessed - Lucinda Williams
6. Bad As Me - Tom Waits
7. Pull Up Some Dust & Sit Down - Ry Cooder
8. So Beautiful or So What - Paul Simon
9. Soul Time - Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings
10. Mockingbird Time - Jayhawks.

Keep Groovin'

RP

Back From Hospital

Hi All

So here for the latest post from the wacky world of cancer, hopefully all my own work, subject to not getting too fatigued in a measly few sentences, which wouldn't be the first time.

Yup, I've had a stay at her maj's finest hospital (well, Whipps Cross University Hospital, actually): not totally recommended, but I came home yesterday, hoping that I'm none the worse for wear. She Who Must Be Obeyed has blogged in my absence, so I won't bore you with the detail. Other that to state the bleedin' obvious: i.e., the incarcery is no fun, and Catherine's a saint four putting up with me. A number of you have kept my spirits up with messages of support. Keep them coming, please!

Among those who have emailed me are my old friend Ian Hine (aka Fat Pete Clemenza), who assures me that followers of his beloved Brighton & Hove Albion consume over 15,000 pints more on matchday than Arsenal supporters. Not quite sure how he found out, but well done anyway.

In recocognition of my return, here are 10 songs about homecoming.

1. Better Be Home Soon - Crowded House
2. Cheer Up, Daddy's Coming Home - Rudy Mockabee
3. Come Home - James
4. Don't Go Home With Your Hard On - Leonard Cohen
5. Green Green Grass of Home - Jim Reeves
6. I Want To Come Home - Arthur Freeman
7. The Long Way Home - Norah Jones
8. My Way Home - Kirsty MacColl
9. Wherever I Lay My Hat, That's My Home - Marvin Gaye
10. Goin' Back - Carole King.

Speak Soon!

Hospital update

Just a quick update from Whipps Cross. Rick was moved to a ward on Sunday evening; his pain relief has been increased, he is on very strong antibiotics for pneumonia (possibly hospital acquired which makes it a nastier version I think), he is having vitamin K injections to boost his blood clotting ability, and he has got an electric pressure relieving mattress which undulates at regular intervals!

When I left last night the blood results showed his infection markers had come down from over 300 to 250 ( they should be zero), the clotting marker had reduced from 1.7 to 1.4 (it should be 1) and so they have booked him in to be fitted for a Nasal Gastric tube this morning as swallowing is still a problem; I'm looking at all this as a definite improvement.

I don't know when he'll be out so I have gone back to checking his emails and printing out any messages of support and encouragement, so keep them coming please. Or you can send any to me of course - parsonscatherine@sky.com

Love and kisses
Catherine x

A and E again

Dear All
Just a quick update - Rick had another session of chemo last Wednesday. Thursday and Friday were fine, we were just starting to relax, but Saturday morning saw us once more in A & E at Whipps Cross. His heart was racing, his blood pressure was very low and he had difficulty swallowing. He's now back in the Emergency Medicine Centre and is being monitored very carefully; he's being treated with very strong antibiotics for pneumonia as well as on an IV drip for fluids, and a continuous pump for diamorphine. When I left last night he was responding to the antibiotics - his heart rate was down to 70-80 instead of 120+ (at one stage it was over 150), his blood pressure was coming up, although if the drips were stopped it goes right back down. They are planning to put a camera down his throat again to see if there are any obstacles to swallowing and he'll be assessed by ENT people as a priority.
I'll post more when I know more.
Catherine x

A LIFE OF LEISURE

So, my sincere gratitude to my employer, the oft-maligned Tower Hamlets Council, for coming to the rescue with a retirement package, based on the most generous package available.

Just a couple of years ago, retirement seemed a dim and distant prospect, but things change quickly. When you measure your life in months, these things become important. I can’t pretend that I wasn’t anxious about the prospects for Catherine’s and the girls’ financial stability, but now I can stop worrying. They won’t be hobnobbing with the crème-de-la-crème, but at least they will have unfettered access to Hob-Nobs.

I’m sure that all of my friends and loved ones have adequate financial cover, but I’m reminded of a dear friend, a family man in his Thirties, who a couple of years ago confessed to me that he has no pension and no insurance in place. This was before I was ill, and I was horrified all the same. My subsequent experiences have only emphasised that you can’t delay or scrimp on this stuff. OK: lecture over, but, Mr X, you know who you are. Get it sorted!

As I’m still a bit too weak for socialising, I’m not expecting to have a leaving-do just now, but maybe something in the new year. In the meantime, let me say thanks and greetings to all my erstwhile colleagues. It has been a pleasure.

Here are ten songs about work.

1. Working In A Coalmine – Lee Dorsey
2. Welcome To The Working Week – Elvis Costello
3. This F***ing Job – Drive-By Truckers
4. Working Man’s Blues – Bob Dylan
5. When Will We Get Paid For The Work We’ve Done – Staple Singers
6. Work To Do – Isley Brothers
7. Man’s Job - Bruce Springsteen
8. Finest Worksong – REM
9. Working On A Building Of Love – Chairmen Of The Board
10. Do You Want My Job – Little Village

Hand me down my pipe and slippers!

Frustration

I've known all sorts of frustration: dashes to my personal aims; obstacles to professional aspirations, and of course, frustration of a sexual nature. I can, however, say with some confidence that I have never experienced the frustration which accompanies the return of cancer.

Just when it was all going so well; I can't pretend this has been easy to take.

I know that Catherine has been keeping my public informed, but the simple fact is, it's hit me in the lung, liver and spleen. Yes, dear friends, I'm afraid it's back to square one, or even worse. A couple of months ago, I was feeling great, getting a buzz out of life, and felt on a general upward trajectory. Today, I'm a 7-stone weakling, increasingly dependent on others, with rapidly reducing self-respect and dignity.

Family and friends have gathered around magnificently, and we have a treatment plan, so my feeble fingers are crossed in hope - expectation - of a recovery, of sorts.

So, how do I feel through all this - mentally, rather than physically? A well-meaning Palliative Care nurse asked in a very solemn manner, doe-eyes turned to max, "are you still feeling angry?". My grouchy response was I had never felt angry about it, and it is only damn-fool questions like that which anger me.

No, my overwhelming emotion is frustration, with a side-helping of sadness. Still, I'll just have to get to grips with it; move on, and deal with it as best I can.

Here are 3 songs about anger, frustration and sadness.

1 I'm not angry - Elvis Costello
2 Tears of Rage - The Band
3 Frustrated, Bagshot - The Members

RP

(Rick hadn't finished going through the song list but I thought I would get this published anyway - any more ideas for songs, please feel free to suggest any - Catherine)

Chemo crisis!

Well, so much for us thinking that chemotherapy wouldn't be so bad this time!

As I said in the last post, Rick had chemo on Wed and came home with his bottle attached; he was fine Thursday morning and most of the afternoon but towards the evening he started feeling under the weather and ached all over. Friday morning was worse, hard to breathe, vomiting, and pain everywhere - chemo helpline suggested either coming in to Bart's, contacting our GP for more anti-sickness medication or going to our local A & E. By the time I'd had the phone call with them, Rick was worse and so, for my first ever time I dialled 999 and got an ambulance! They were really prompt and within about 10 minutes he was being treated in the ambulance with oxygen and all his vital signs monitored, including an ECG. Anyway, we joined the Friday morning rush hour and went off to hospital. I would just like to point out that I was not really ready to face people at this stage bearing in mind that although I had been up since 6am, I had just fallen out of bed into dog walking clothes, walked Molly round the park (it is dark and nobody sees me), I'd not washed, showered or done anything with my hair or face - and here we were going to hospital where there would be lots of people who had washed and dressed appropriately - I just hoped in the warmth of the hospital I wouldn't smell too bad! But I digress...
Rick was assessed quite quickly in A & E - blood tests, urine samples, chest x-ray - and then sent to the Emergency Medicine Centre, which is a short stay ward off A & E before the patient is allocated another ward in the main hospital. He had a couple of units of blood, lots of IV antibiotics, and saline and potassium (I think) because he was very dehydrated. So now, as well as his bottle of chemo which was still going in, Rick has a line in the other arm as well as the oxygen tubing which is stuck up his nose - what with the emergency bell call cable and the control for raising and lowering the bed it is easy to get tied up in knots!
To cut a long story short, Rick stayed in the EMC all day Friday and was transferred to a ward on Saturday afternoon - and what a difference that was. He went from a very quiet 4 bedded ward with only one other person to a huge 19 bedded ward which seemed to be full of patients looking like geriatric convicts dressed in prison issue orange or green pj's, and the noise...there were call bell alarms going off, machines bleeping, people talking very loudly into mobile phones which were also on loudspeaker (to be fair they probably were hard of hearing). Luckily Emma and Lucy promptly bought some ear plugs for Rick which made his first night slightly more bearable.
He has continued to improve, apart from an episode yesterday morning when his O2 saturation went down to 89% (not a good thing), he's had more IV antibiotics and his markers are down (medical speak for it is a good thing), and should be able to come home today. He has yet to have the chemo bottle disconnected. Although the chemo finished on Saturday there have been no suitably qualified staff to safely remove and dispose of it. They have assured us that someone will be around who can do it today.

And now I think I have brought you all up to date with what has been going on Chez Parsons this weekend - I do hope your weekends have been better!

Thanks for the soup suggestions, keep them coming
Love and kisses
Catherine x

Chemo update

Rick had his PICC line inserted yesterday and started chemotherapy today - it was scheduled for next week but they managed to bring it forward. He's come home with a little bottle attached to the line which will drip-feed chemo into his vein over the next 3 days and the district nurse will take it off on Saturday. This will mean dressing will be a major problem and showering impossible - roll on Saturday!
Doctors have assured us that he shouldn't feel as sick with the chemo this time, I do hope they are right.
Keep sending positive thoughts our way,
Catherine x

And now for some news

Sorry for the delay in posting any blogs. We have decided that I will do the factual updates for you and Rick will post the more entertaining news when he feels up to it.
Well now, the bronchoscopy results came back; the samples they took on the second time confirmed that the cancer in his lung is malignant and has definitely come from the head and neck cancer he had last year and not some new primary lung cancer; the bone scan was clear though he may have arthritis in his hips. He had a kidney function test on Thursday to check that the kidneys can cope with any chemo they have to offer, and the good news is that they can. Our next appointment is with Dr Sibtain on 16th Nov to get things in motion for starting chemo. They have to insert a PICC line in his arm first(it is a long canula which will enable the chemo to be administered into the bigger veins in his neck)and then they can start. It should be soon but we'll know more on Wednesday.
We are still maintaining our positive, glass half-full outlook, Rick is quite tired without much energy at the moment but hopefully after chemo he will be feeling a bit better and we'll be able to get out and perhaps see people.
I think that is all the news for the moment, I will post more when there is more to tell, thank you for being patient.
Catherine x

Oh, one last thing, if anyone has any recipes for high-calorie, smooth, nutritious soups can you email me - parsonscatherine@sky.com - I'm close to exhausting my repertoire!

And still we're waiting...

Just a quick update to let you know that we are still in the same position as we have been for the last month ie knowing there is something wrong, but not exactly what and where it has come from, and with no plans as yet to do anything about it. Apparently, the samples from the bronchoscopy are good but are still being analysed, and the bone scan results are unknown. We are seeing Dr Sibtain at Barts tomorrow and are hoping he can shed some light on the situation. We've been told that Rick is being discussed at all the meetings of the top surgeons and consultants of various disciplines, and we have been referred to the MacMillan nurses, District nurses and now Occupational Health - which is very nice and reassuring but what would be even better is to get some treatment!

Anyway, that's enough of my rant. I just thought I would post this to keep you all in the picture, we may know something more concrete later on this week (but don't hold your breath!)

And no songs titles either - sorry.

Catherine

Return To My Nightmare (part 2)

Sorry for the abrupt ending to my previous post. I get a bit tired, so it takes a bit of time to complete a blog. I was happy to take a few days, but Catherine was keen to get some information out for our expectant public, so she took an executive decision to publish and be damned, even though it was incomplete.

Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, following several months of constant improvement, I was told, unequivocally, no argument about it, that I have lung cancer, with possibly a little bit lapping about in the liver and the spleen. So the minor operation to release the stiff muscle constraining the movement in my neck and shoulders was cancelled, but I was taken in as an in-patient nevertheless, primarily to drain the fluid from my pleura, but also to undertake various tests, to ascertain precisely what is ailing me.

The pleural drain released about 600ml of gunky-looking liquid in about 10 minutes, after which it slowed down to a trickle: eventually just over a litre was taken out of me over a couple of days. I had hoped that this would make me feel a bit more comfortable, but no such luck, I'm afraid. Inevitably, the only real release came with the god of morphine, which brought with it its own down-sides: fatigue, and the most extreme episode of constipation which I have ever suffered - more of which later.

I was in hospital for about a week, and have subsequently made a number of further visits, for a bronchoscopy, lung function test, and various other checks. The weird thing is that the more examinations I go through, the less clear is the diagnosis. Apparently, the bronchoscopy samples did not show any cancer cells although the CT scan on the lung did show up something which shouldn't be there; the pleural fluid was negative for cancer;and the lung function test was satisfactory, although it didn't feel it. This leaves us in a position where it seems clear that I'm pretty poorly, with a strong suspicion that Mr Cancer has paid a return visit, but where and how is anything but clear.

This is important, partly because nobody in the great medical fraternity at Barts & The London is able to take ownership for my treatment, until they know exactly what's wrong: we originally thought I was going to be handed over to the chest and lung specialists, but as it has still not been confirmed that the disease is in my lung, this isn't appropriate yet. Also, the treatment for a new cancer would be very different from that for a secondary cancer from the original illness.

In the meantime, I seem to be the subject of much discussion and scratching of heads, but treatment can't start until we have more clarity about what's wrong with me. I feel lousy, with absolutely no energy at all. I am of course off work again. The medical certificate from my GP puts it down to "metastatic cancer", which I believe indicates the spread of a primary cancer to another part or parts of the body. Watch this space for prognosis / diagnosis in the very near future, I hope.

Inevitably, a cocktail of drugs keeps pain under a semblance of control, but the medication - and particularly morphine - has side-effects. Yes, I sleep an awful lot, but I have also discovered the true horror of constipation. I'll spare you the graphic details, but it has been extremely unpleasant, and I am immensely grateful for the intervention of the District Nurse, Dan, who brought me sweet relief.

So, here are ten songs about constipation.

1. Constipation Blues - Screamin' Jay Hawkins
2. Trapped - Bruce Springsteen
3. I Can't Get Started - Bunny Berrigan
4. We Can Work It Out - The Beatles
5. Keep On Pushin' - The Impressions
6. Agony - Eels
7. Ain't It Hard - Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings
8. All Cleaned Out - Elliott Smith
9. Cloud of Stink - Biffy Clyro
10. Explosion - Eli Paperboy Reed & The Trueloves.

RP

PS - Rick is having another bronchoscopy on Tuesday, they'll go a bit further down to see if they can find anything conclusive; followed by a bone scan on Wednesday. Hopefully at the Lung team meeting on Friday they will have got results and formed a plan - keep your fingers crossed.
Catherine

Just When Things Were Going So Well ...

Greetings, Friends, Family and Loved Ones.

Fancy meeting here after all this time! Who'd 'a' thought it, ay? Apart from the odd minor setback, the general trajectory had been one of constant improvement: back at work, eating, drinking, playing, etc., etc. Had a two great holidays: a fabulous cruise down the Danube, followed by a lovely family break in Suffolk.

God, I was pleased with my recovery; God, I was a smug git. I suppose I should have known that life just doesn't run that smoothly. I'm not saying everything was perfect, but all things considered, it felt life was getting back to something approaching normality. Enter, stage left, the malign spirit who took control of my life about 18 months ago.

I had noticed a bit of fatigue, but it was all brought to a head around the time I was due to go into hospital for a relatively minor op, to sort out the bulky mess that is my neck, and give me more mobility in my shoulders. Around the same time, I noticed a lump in my abdomen, and was sent for an ultrasound scan at Whipps Cross hospital.

This scan revealed that there is indeed a lump, that it is a hard object, and that it shouldn't be there; but more than that it could not tell - at least about the lump. Rather more worryingly, the scan also identified that I had developed a pleural effusion: i.e., a quantity of fluid on the area around my right lung.

So, I turned up as planned for the operation, having been given prior warning that this fluid may scupper the whole proceeding, which indeed turned out to be the case: I was not considered well enough to undergo general anaesthetic, and so the op was called off. However, as they had me in hospital, the medicos decided to carry out some tests, to find out what was going on.

In spite of all these warning signs, Catherine and I were still pretty laid-back about things, assuming that whatever was going on was relatively minor, and we'd take it in our stride. Imagine our surprise, dear friends, when we were informed that in fact the CT-scan had shown a new cancer in my lung, which had also spread to my liver and spleen. (You may want to read that sentence again: I still find it barely believable, over 2-weeks later.)

To be continued ...

Goodbye Blog, Hello Facebook

Hello Friends

How are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking. Really and truly, feeling good: toppermost of the poppermost. Still got a hole in my chin, so I'm not eating or drinking, except for those occasions when I cheat when nobody's looking.

My speech is still rubbish, but getting better. They're going to fit a plate in my mouth which should improve things, and I'll continue to receive speech and language therapy, but I'll have to put up with a slight speech impediment for the rest of my life. Not ideal, but I can live with that.

As an example of my robust health, take this week. I've spent a (short) day in the office, and worked at home for at least some of every other day. I went to the opera on Monday night, football on Tuesday, and the Destinations Travel Show on Friday. Just a couple of months ago, any one of those excursions would leave me exhausted, needing the next day to recover, but they just seemed almost like business as usual. I'm getting better.

Which brings me to the subject of the blog. When I set it up last year, my intention was that I could keep friends and family informed of developments as I went through my very unpleasant operations and treatment. I think it's served that purpose well, and I've been immensely grateful for the feedback I've received, particularly the messages of love and support when I was at my lowest ebb.

But I think the blog has just about run its course, and it's time to call it a day. I really don't have much to report these days, and I don't want to bore you, assuming that you're not bored already. I therefore propose that this will be The Last Post.

Of course, I do want to stay in touch, and will keep the world informed of any developments. As I've managed to work out how to do a blog, I'm beginning to feel more confident with all this modern technology. I'm going to get down with the kids om Facebook. I've already added some of you as friends, and will keep doing so over the next few days. Then, once I've mastered all the intricacies of this new-fangled stuff, we can all continue to stay in touch without having to resort to anything as sordid as actual real-life contact!

So here are ten songs about endings.

1. The End - The Doors
2. The Last Time - The Rolling Stones
3. Stop! Look What You're Doing - Carla Thomas
4. The End Has Begun - Loudon Wainwright III
5. End Times - Eels
6. The End - The Beatles
7. The Last Word - Mary Chapin Carpenter
8. Last Goodbye - Jeff Buckley
9. Stop! In The Name Of Love - Diana Ross & The Supremes
10. It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) REM

It's been emotional.

RP

A Taste Of Honey

Hello

I am occasionally admonished by Catherine and others for my lackadaisical approach to updating my blog. It's partly, but not entirely, due to laziness. It's also because I have reached a stage in my recovery when not much happens: my life at the moment is unremittingly mundane, and long may it remain so.

Nevertheless, the boss has spoken, and who am I to argue? I will try to maintain your interest, but if you read this stuff looking for pain and suffering, I fear you will be disappointed. Move onto another web site, go and update your Facebook account or something. I hope and believe that the horrors are well and truly behind me, and now it's just a matter of getting better.

Anyway, as far as my current condition is concerned, I'm afraid the non-malignant hole in my chin has still not healed, after six weeks. This is what's preventing me from learning how to eat and drink again, so it's intensely frustrating. We've recently decided to experiment with Mannuka honey dressings, which I'm told have an excellent healing effect, although I'm not sure that there's total consensus among the medical fraternity. Maybe it's just an expensive con, but worth a try, we think. The hole is so tiny as to be almost invisible, but it's still there. We're keeping our fingers crossed that the honey will be the magic ingredient to close the gap completely.

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I've recently been speaking to some old friends and have been struck by the impact my blog has had upon them. They've used words like "humbling" and "inspiring", and I've even been described as brave. Blimey! I don't think I've ever been used as an example for others, unless you count the times when mothers have pointed at me in the street and warned their children, "that's how you'll end up if you don't stop playing with yourself".

If you enjoy reading the blog, then I'm happy. That's partly what it's here for. But I don't recognise myself in some of the very positive feedback I've been getting. I definitely don't consider myself brave. All through the treatment, I've just followed orders, often with fear and trepidation. What else can you do? And for those of you who have commented on my seemingly positive attitude, let me assure you that's just the bit you see from the blog. There have been times when I have been a quivering, weeping bundle of negativity.

Sorry if I seem to be labouring this point, but I wouldn't want to raise false expectations for the next time we meet. I'm still the same old inadequate wretch that I always was, just a little uglier from the surgery.

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As I am pinning my hopes on the healing powers of Mannuka, here are ten songs about honey.

1. Honey - Bobby Goldsboro
2. Honey For The Bees - Alison Moyet
3. Sweeter Than Honey - Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes
4. Honey On His Hands - Jeanne Pruette
5. Honey Chile - Martha Reeves & The Vandellas
6. Money Honey - Elvis Presley
7. Honey Pie - The Beatles
8. Honey Hush - Big Joe Turner
9. Honeydoo - Dan Bern
10. Honey Honey - Abba

Sweet!

RP

Drinking Sensibly

Greetings, and a belated Happy New Year

Another slapped wrist for me, for neglecting my blogging duties. In the weeks since my last missive, we've had Christmas and New Year, and I've had a birthday. But the hole in my chin remains, although I'm reliably informed that it's getting smaller.

So how was the festive season for you? Ours was nice: we spent the Christmas period at my Dad's place in Bognor, and descended on my brother Dave for Christmas lunch. As for oral intake, I'm afraid that my role was mainly confined to watching others chewing and slurping, but it was all very pleasant anyway.

We were back home for New Year, and had a relatively quiet time, with a few friends round for the evening. Flaunting medical advice, I actually consumed some alcohol! Champagne and all proper drinks still being too harsh for my palate, I opted for some Sainsbury's Pink Fizz. This is a beverage presented in a sparkling wine bottle, the label of which describes it as an "aromatised wine product cocktail". It comprises some non-descript Chenin Blanc wine mixed with hibiscus flower extract, and comes in at a whopping 4% ABV. It's booze for pre-teens, or a Christmas tipple for teetotallers. Don't pitch up at a dinner party bearing a bottle of this stuff, or your host may rightly spit in your food.

Anyway, Sainsbury's Pink Fizz tasted okay to me, and I managed a couple of glasses
on New Year's Eve, with no ill effects other then the scorn of my family and friends, but I've not tried it since. The bottle stands forlorn in our fridge, untouched in 2011. We really ought to chuck it down the sink, but throwing away alcohol - even of such poor quality - goes against the grain, so it may still be there next New Years Eve.

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In my idle moments over the festive period, I've been looking back at earlier blogs, and I've been struck by how unprepared I was for the ordeal ahead of me. I'm not sure whether this was because the medical professionals didn't tell me straight, or whether I chose not to hear the truth.

In the early postings, I was assuming that it would all be sorted within a matter of a few weeks, and even when it was decided that they would be butchering my face, I was expecting everything to be back to normal within six months: the eternal optimist!

I also told the world that I would be in hospital for two weeks. How was I to know that there would be complications and further operations, which kept me inarcerated for over six weeks, from late June to early August? I anticipated having a tracheostomy for 4-7 days. In the event, I kept it for about 4 weeks!I also vastly underrated the sheer misery of chemo and radiotherapy.

With hindsight, I actually think it was no bad thing that I was so naive about what was in store for me: if I had known the truth, I would certainly not have entered the whole process in such a sanguine state of mind. On balance, now that the worst is behind me (fingers crossed), I'm glad that I didn't know in advance just how awful it was going to be.

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In the hope that I may one day be able to move on from Sainsbury's Pink Fizz, here are ten songs about sparkling wine.

1. Champagne Supernova - Oasis
2. Sparkling Wine - Red Sovine
3. A Glass Of Champagne - Sailor
4. Bubbly - Colbie Caillat
5. Drinking Champagne - Willie Nelson
6. No Sex In The Champagne Room - Chris Rock
7. Champagne Charlie - George Leybourne
8. Champagne Life - Ne-Yo
9. I Drink Sparkling Wine - Pjs & Art
10. Pink Fizz - Albert Marland

Cheers!

RP