We’ve done it. We’ve broken the curse of the ShootUp meet up.
Tim and I live several hundred miles apart, so we only get to see each other a couple of times a year at most. Whenever Geoff and I meet Tim and the lovely Katie we have a great time. But we have to limit these occasions because they are dangerous to our health. History has proven that if you stick two co-writers in the same city for a while, one of them will always go hypo while the other will end up outrageously high.
Until now. Tim and Katie came down to sunny Liverpool for the latest ShootUp meet up, and even with some dreaded pasta and liberal quantities of beer, wine, and port – the now traditional drink of ShootUp – all was fine. No emergency fruit pastilles were consumed, and never once did either of us hit kidney fryingly high territory. The curse is broken, it appears we can meet without diabetes Armageddon occurring.
Aside from that revelation, it was marvellous to spend some time chatting about diabetes stuff over a drink or three. With people round the table who’d been diagnosed anywhere between 8 months and several decades it was a great mix of experiences. Inbetween the chat, we proved to be very skilled at fruit pastille construction as demonstrated above. And we were even nice to the pancreatically privileged types and let them sit with us, rather than making them stand in a corner as penance for having a working pancreas.
No one suddenly remembered that they’d locked their terrapin in the washing machine, so I’m thinking that people enjoyed it. I just hope there wasn’t a terrible spate of terrapin drownings in Liverpool on Saturday night.