this post also appears on 'Mals Murmurings' under the title 'We Are Such Stuff ...'
One of those rare sunshiny bright (albeit chilly) mornings drew me up the garden (lack of) path. Task one was to net out kilos of fallen leaves from the pond, and applying same to garden borders. That task completed, I set to refilling our sundry bird feeders to add a further gleam to my nascent halo!
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed a bit of gentle socializing, a couple of meals out at Al Bivio, lunch at Café Culture, and even a wonderful buffet lunch at Wesley followed by a stimulating talk, necessitating conversation with ones neighbours at table, from the President of Conference.
After thirteen hours bed rest, and subsequent slow saunter downstairs and into the kitchen, I boldly strove to prepare a curry for Sunday and at least one subsequent day’s dinner. It turned out to be one of the most satisfactory curries I’ve ever produced from scratch; a subtle balance between heat and flavour (or spice and other ingredients) proved most enjoyable.
Since yesterday lunch-time the discomfort has become quite extreme, in fact I don’t know why I try to soften the sentiment by substituting the word discomfort for what has ranged from excruciating pain through agonizing, nausea inducing, aches. For several days back pains have flared up, presumably related to the herniated disc, to the extent that it has proved virtually impossible to find a comfortable position seated, reclining, or attempting to shuffle about, for considerable periods of time.
As the names Sheffield & Leeds appeared on the motorway signs I felt able to breathe freely once more. There really is no other place on earth quite like God’s own county and, having just travelled up from deepest Hertfordshire, the thought of soon being able to set foot once again on