The current and a salivary stone

The word is out it seems, Cypriots and Italians have started arriving like moths to a flame, wanting to pick fresh olives for pickling, drying and roasting. One chap has reserved the entire remaining harvest of the small grove (table fruit) for himself, and will be coming back soon to pick the lot with his wife. In the meantime I've been slashing the groves in preparation for the upcoming harvest festival, mum and Heather have been pruning and we'll have a working bee (where does that saying come from?) with some others on Sunday to finish the pruning and weeding.

I've had a little extra time to do some work as we were released early from the medical trial. It was actually cancelled (still getting full pay) as a couple of chaps had elevated liver enzyme levels. And immediately after the relaxing two weeks of isolation I was swept into the current of responsibility, obligation and necessity. The current drags you along occupying the vast majority of your time. There aren't many activities that don't fall into those three categories, lucky is the person who can add 'leisure' in similar amounts.

Ever heard of a salivary stone? Neither had I until yesterday. Much like a kidney stone, although lodged in your largest (usually) salivary gland (parotid) - clogging up saliva and potentially leading to infection. As it turns out, I have one. There isn't much you can do except hope that it passes soon and the swelling in your cheek goes down and the pain of salivating (excruciating for a person well suited to pavlovian trials) desists. So it's been hot packs and vigorous cheek massages to attempt to dislodge, break or pass the stone through the salivary duct. Quite boring.

Finding somewhere to rent is the final major box to be ticked for settling back into life here. Jobs and Uni starting again soon and then it'll be flat out for another 12 months!