Monday, January 02, 2017


Today has been one of those where sundry, apparently minor, ailments decided to stamp their cumulative presence at the forefront of my consciousness. Earlier in the day, after an all too familiar restless and discomforting night abed, nothing troubled me more than my familiar nagging aches in limbs and torso but, by mid afternoon, cold-like symptoms in palate, sinus and gravelly throat moved dramatically to the fore. Quite early in the afternoon I’d felt rather light-headed, as the room became giddyingly hazy, moving in and out of focus, and I felt rather nauseous; although the experience was reminiscent of when I suffered with labyrinthitis, on this occasion it dispersed rather swiftly.

Unfortunately, a couple of hours later, as I prepared to take Piper for his evening walk, the light-headedness returned with a vengeance and I had to reach out to the hall wall to prevent myself falling. Strangely, I’d been considering whether I should once again resort to use of a walking stick, to support me on my gentle perambulations. My OH helped me back to the lounge where I rested on the sofa feeling pitifully sorry for myself and indescribably fearful. It seems that too many consecutive nights of un-refreshing sleep aren’t too good for one’s sense of well-being. Never mind though, I should by now be more accepting of the state of unwell-being that has accompanied me for the past thirteen years.

The persistent detonation of fireworks, by persons known and unknown, preceding and subsequent to both Bonfire Night and New Year’s Eve / Day have at times turned our outgoing rescue dog, Piper, into a quivering heap seeking sanctuary in corners, under cushions and, squeezing into previously non-negotiable spaces, besides, between, and behind the seated forms of ma belle and myself. On New Years Eve he, meaning Piper, ran up to the bedroom and snuggled into the bed behind my beloved, and as the erratic explosions continued well into the early hours, eventually burrowed under the duvet to settle down between the recumbent forms of his people.

Fortunately for ma belle, very little disturbs her slumbers and, even after the aforementioned disruption of the nights’ more usual routine, she still emerged bright and early to give Piper his morning walk before going out to lead worship and preach at Harlow Moor chapel. As for me, my fitfully erratic sleep pattern was only marginally more disrupted than is the norm.

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