Proffering Thanks

 The abominable abdominals, that have taunted and haunted my bodily frame since Saturday evening, have settled down to their more familiar state of dis-ease.  Concurrently, a combination of paracetamol, tramadol, and Piper's empathetic behaviour, helped me through a couple of bouts of nausea-inducing, expletive producing, painful discomfort in the upper limbs and armpits. For this relief I proffer thanks. Gratitude makes one feel better, something I far too frequently forget!

PIPER

After the Virgin’s visit – I proffer my apologies to Epson

Regular readers of my blog may well recall my angrily frustrated posts regarding several futile attempts at connecting an Epson photo-printer to my network (three postings between 19^th & 20^th December are the pertinent ones).

You will have seen there that it proved impossible to set the machine up wirelessly, as well as only being able to set-up an Ethernet connection by use of a manually fixed IP address.

Now that my previous VM super hub has been replaced (post of January 27 refers), I have been immediately able to establish a wireless connection to the printer. In response to a customer satisfaction survey from the Virgin, I commented:

the immediate experience, the politeness & efficiency of the engineer on this occasion would have lead me to a 10 rating but I have some misgivings about difficulty of getting through to the appropriate person on the 150 number.

Since this visit some problems that had been going on for a considerable time, and which I attempted to deal with via yr social media account, have finally been resolved. Ultimately, the problems seem to have been with the old hub and, a wireless connection problem with a new printer, for which I blamed the printer’s manufacturer, has also been resolved.

Perhaps a policy of automatically upgrading/ replacing old hubs should be undertaken, as that would have saved me considerable anxiety which could have proved injurious to my already chronic health condition.

For the time being, I am well satisfied with the Epson product and even reasonably satisfied with the Virgin’s broadband service. To Epson I proffer an apology.

INTACT – Virginity Restored

 It is with gratitude that I report the arrival of the engineer, well within the timeframe proffered yesterday. Apart from a phone call this morning confirming the arrangement, and an opportunity to cancel should we no longer require the visit, the engineer also contacted us when he knew that he should reach us within twenty minutes.

Of course we had access to the internet this morning, unlike yesterday, but bearing in mind the catalogue of underperforming, and even non-responding, events we have experienced over many months, I informed the engineer of these intermittent peculiarly slow ethernet speeds. He was as puzzled as I was about the slower speeds; had they been wireless ones it could sometimes make sense but over ethernet links…!!!

Anyway, he duly installed a (virginal) new hub and said that the one we had been using was the Super Hub, not even Super Hub 1; the newly installed hub is the Virgin Media Super Hub 3.

Hopefully, we will have no imminent need to trouble the Virgin’s Customer Services.

on the mend and back again

Well, I’ve got to admit that my recovery after the arthroscopy was much quicker than I’d anticipated and, within three weeks I was back to being able to walk the dog on pavement, footpath and fields almost as before the operation. I have to use the assistance of a walking stick at present, but that was the norm until a year ago, but I’ve not had to don my knee supports. Yesterday afternoon, I had a follow-up appointment at the Orthopaedic & Fracture Clinic at the District Hospital and was discharged back to my GP.

During the op they had discovered some degree of arthritis (which hadn’t shown up on the X-Ray), considerable wear and tear of the cartilage and some bare bone into which they drilled two small holes. Incredible what can be achieved through keyhole surgery and, I’m just grateful for our wonderful NHS which the Tories are still intent on destroying.

The only difficulty, if I can call it that, whilst at the hospital was a need to rush to the loo whilst waiting for the appointment; sods law timing of a side-effect from the antibiotics that had been prescribed, the previous morning, for a non-related ailment. It all adds a little (off-)colour to life’s already abundant tapestry.

Now, the back story to the antibiotics: Late on Tuesday afternoon I started to get pains in the upper abdomen, right under and along the rib-cage. At first this felt more like a dull bruise but gradually intensified to a more searing pitch but, I’d had a similar, not quite so acute, sensation a couple of months back which was resolved by a prescribed doubling up of my omeprazole. I’ve long been plagued by digestive and sundry bowel and abdominal problems so, I’ve become accustomed to spasmodic disconcerting abdominal pain and discomfort, alongside other chronic pain symptoms. During the evening this more intense pain seemed to spread into the right-hand side of my back, from just below the shoulder blade into the small of the back. The discomfort & pain reached such a degree, untouched by my usual painkillers, that I had to keep changing chairs, sofas, posture etcetera,  throughout the evening, in an attempt to alleviate each recurring moment of increased intensity.

On Wednesday morning, following a telephonic triage by a practice nurse, I was granted an emergency appointment with a GP. I was amazed, and relieved, that the doctor gave me such a thorough examination of over twenty minutes duration and, judging by my reactions to the examination, he suspected an infection of the gall bladder. The doctor also arranged for a nurse to take some blood samples whilst I was at the surgery and, prescribed a course of Co-amoxiclav. He also asked why I hadn’t gone to A&E the night before, although my beloved OH had suggested that. I explained that I felt A&E were already overburdened and I didn’t want to add to it. The docs response was “but you are really ill!” and, if I experience similar pains again I shouldn’t hesitate in getting down to the hospital.

Early on Thursday morning the GP phoned me to check up how I was feeling and informed me that the blood inflammation flags were rather high and, felt that we were on the right course of treatment. I have to arrange for another blood test in a couple of weeks. Once again, my thanks are due to, and gratefully proffered for, the NHS!

what's in a day

It seems, and logically must be, impossible to know what’s going to happen one day to the next. Whenever we arrange any kind of appointment it’s usually made in good faith but, circumstances can so often thwart the noblest intention. I’ve been feeling quite vulnerable, health-wise, with a recurrence of sudden onset sundry joint, muscle and lymph node pain.

It’s rather hard to describe how (what starts as) an acute breach of one’s pain threshold transforms itself into a prolonged groan and nausea inducing pulsating bruised sensation.  Occasionally the application of wrist, knee, elbow and shoulder supports provides temporary relief but at other times they have to be accompanied by taking a couple of tramadol. For a few days in the past week, with the aid of a little preventative pain-killer consumption, I seemed relatively free of the above aches and  discomfort; even my IBS symptoms were in temporary abeyance.

That should have seemed too good to last but, I so enjoyed the welcome break that, I was rather shocked when the above symptoms alongside others returned with a vengeance. A chest crushing response to sudden unexpected sounds, IBS, post-nasal drip, sore throat, loss of appetite and sudden pallor overwhelmed me yesterday, and I became quite frightened. My body imposed a regime of rest on me; I kept dozing off intermittently throughout the day even though I’d had my normal twelve plus hours of bed-rest, with intermittent but not necessarily refreshing sleep, as prelude to this ultra-discomforted day.

At present it seems as if my sundry prescribed medications are failing in their duty, reflux, post-nasal drip, IBS are all nagging me into acute awareness of their presence. I still am able to count my blessings, welcoming each new day to bask in the love of ma belle amoureuse, having a roof over my head, water on tap, essential heating,  and food in the larder. My heart goes out to all those less fortunate than myself.

*******

This post also appears on Mal's Murmurings

ailing and rejoicing

It seems really strange how quickly the days, weeks, months and even years, scurry by! I often think of how little I manage to do each day, and yet, time still manages to pass almost too quickly for comfort. Even on days where my sundry ailments are crying havoc, and I wish the pain and discomfort would quickly pass, I can never wish the day to end as I look forward to my OH’s return from work. I wish the ailments would disappear but not the day.

 I appreciate every moment of my existence, the piscine activity in aquarium and pond, the birds visiting our garden but, most importantly,  the more time I can spend with my beloved the better; each moment of life is to be savoured and I give thanks that I still have the ability to appreciate it.

As I write I’m sitting in comfort at the fireside, listening to Berlioz’s Overture to King Lear (courtesy of Radio 3) and, casting an eye over the garden; I never thought multi-tasking was something I could manage! My furthest ventures out in recent weeks have been to the local shops and, on one occasion, the extra few minutes trudge to see my doctor.

Even after 8½ years, since succumbing to this illness, I still find it difficult to accept that I can no longer take a “proper” walk! I can at least manage many things better than was the case in the not too distant past. As long as I remember to PACE myself, take appropriate medication, and feel and express gratitude for all life’s blessings (including the ministrations of my physiotherapist – herself a PwME – as she applies the acupuncture needles ), I do experience reasonably long periods when many of the symptoms appear to have gone into remission.

I am currently battling (unsuccessfully for the past six to eight weeks) with acute, although spasmodic, pains in the hip and left lower limb joints and muscles. Externally applied Ibuprofen gel had barely any effect. A thorough examination by my GP, who I saw once these symptoms started interfering further with an already erratic pattern of unrefreshing sleep, left me feeling rather more bruised and battered. He prescribed 2 x Co-codamol 15/500 to be taken (in alternate doses) with my usual 2 x 50ml tramadol and the usual pre-bedtime amitriptyline.

 So far the results are not at all promising but, tomorrow I’ll be going to the District Hospital for a hip X-Ray and blood tests, and the possibility of a further scan.

Although I initially thought it may just be a bout of sciatica, rather than a recurrence of my herniated disc problem, I’m no longer prepared to self-diagnose.

As I continue writing the Red Kite has entered my field of vision, circling just beyond our garden boundary. I’m quite surprised to see it today as conditions are wet and blustery. At lower level, blue tits, coal tits, and a robin have been visiting our feeders.

This evening, emotional and physical stamina permitting, I’m hoping to attend the AGM of our local Labour Party.

I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made.

Woes and Gratitude

It’s becoming increasingly difficult not to sound like a moaning wimp. It isn’t that I feel much worse than has become my familiar norm and, I’ve frequently experienced more excruciating aches and pains than at present, but it’s an overall sense of feeling ‘off-colour’ that nags and gnaws at me for at least half of my waking hours.

It’s almost impossible to get used to those times when one suddenly experiences a cloying, gut-wrenching, nauseating giddiness, and sudden change from warm to cold skin as the colour can almost be felt draining away from ones face. Sometimes the overall sense of queasiness persists for only a few minutes, before the healthier glow returns, at other times the period of dis-ease is much more prolonged.

The spastic colon & diverticular disease randomly asserts itself, with little regard to whether I’ve maintained a regular dose of anti-spasmodic pills (mebeverine) but, fortunately the ppi’s (lansoprazole) function reasonably well in curbing the worst excesses of gastro-oesophageal reflux (although there are some days when, come bedtime, I still require a dose of antacids.

On a positive note, I’ve suddenly realized that up to this point no mention has been made of the painful aches in the upper limbs (not infrequently emanating from the armpit) as these are currently adequately controlled by doses of tramadol. So, I conclude on a note of gratitude once again; if only the flow of thanksgiving could overwhelm the woes that flesh is heir to!

Procedural Matters

Three days after cancelling, and rearranging, the hastily appointed barium enema, I received a letter from a consultant in the endoscopy department to say that they would shortly be arranging an appointment for this procedure. This epistle was dated 12 May but postmarked (second class) 19 May; my bewilderment / dismay at the too short notice received for the initial appointment may have been compounded by the fact that I was not aware at that time that any such appointment was being arranged.

Anyway, I’m pleased to report that the barium enema / X-ray procedure went without a hitch, even though it’s a long time since my recumbent (though not necessarily in total comfort) torso had to undergo so many postural changes in such a restricted (30+ minutes) period of time. (The exercise must have done me good!). Procedure completed, how wonderful it was for this hollow stomached being to return home, and ravenously devour a banana whilst awaiting the due sizzle time for the subsequent bacon butty; my previous solid food intake had been shortly after noon the previous day.

That gets me on to thinking about the privileged life I lead. Whilst so many in the world lack a roof over their head, access to a ready supply of drinking water and food in their belly, I can eat and drink at whatever moment suits my whim. I adore, and am adored by, my beloved wife, companion and lover Helen and, have two wonderful step-daughters. As long as we stand firm against the Tory / Lansley menace, future generations will also have the opportunity to access the same freely available National Health Service, not at all dependent upon one’s ability to pay, whose services are very much appreciated (despite minor glitches) by yours truly!

A Primary Focus

Work, recreation, stimulation and inspiration; I am truly blessed in having my primary focus for all these activities right on my doorstep.

I've just spent another couple of hours intermittent labour in the garden, this morning. There was a time when most of the pruning and trimming back  of plants and shrubs was a late autumn pre-occupation but, increasingly, since making the garden a much more wildlife friendly environment, many of these tasks have been transferred to this part of the year. The priority, now that the harshest weather has passed (hopefully), is to trim the hedges and shrubs before the nesting season gets into full swing. As I amble around, I can always spot another task to be performed and, it requires a conscious effort on my part to remember priorities.

Just a couple of years back many of these tasks would have remained unfulfilled, without the endeavours of my beloved, so it's with an immense sense of gratitude that I perform these chores, a sure sign that I am continuing, a few setbacks aside, in my remission from the most disabling aspects of my condition. Even 30% of my previous activity levels is a plateau I could have hardly dreamt of such a short while ago.

As I got down to pruning and lopping an overgrown hedge, a Robin determinedly accompanied me in my endeavours; whichever way I turned my avian friend was bobbing around. Needless to say, when I decided to reach for my camera the bird was nowhere to be seen; perhaps he's a little camera shy! Elsewhere in the garden, alongside an abundant squabble of starlings, blue tits, coal tits, blackbirds, house sparrows and dunnocks were taking advantage of the garden's various feeders.

I've got to be honest, I'd deluded myself into thinking (even in pre-illness days) that a wildlife area would require less maintenance than a more formal garden; it's a marvellous resource, even though my assumption was totally incorrect. When it comes to the more 'tame' borders of the garden, intrusive ground elder aside, the greatest scourge is the neighbourhood's 'domestic' cats; domestic they may be in terms of being someones household pets but they are a menace when it comes to scratching up bulbs and plants (but not in their own backyard). Electronic cat scarers prove ineffectual, pepper washes away far too quickly and, at times, I even begin to question the value of a few strategically placed thorn & briar branches. A spray of water is certainly effective, as is a loud "hiss" but, unfortunately 24 hour vigilance is impractical! Frustrations aside, I wouldn't swap the garden for anything; it proves a source of inspiration for both my painting and writing, as well as being a more general aid to relaxation.

As I sit and scribble down these notes, a red kite is circling low over the garden; I open the back door and, the variegated pattern of birdsong lifts my spirits. I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made.

lack of progress report

Frightening how the shatteredness persists, it's rather like I've reverted to a stage I thought I'd overcome. Room-spinning, legs collapsing, griping sense of nausea and feeling as if my bones are bruised from the inside. Hope it's just a passing trend!

All I can say is, thank God for the garden; just spent a pleasant hour alternatingly sitting on bench at back of house, seats beside the pond and the arbour seat, shuffles between them ably supported by a stout walking stick!

A Special Privilege

Some events quite simply serve to put one’s life, with all its privileges and setbacks, into a more realistic perspective. Some people, though still young, brighten the lives of all those they encounter; without these people the world will be much poorer but, at the same time we can count it a real blessing that our paths have crossed.

Today, my younger step-daughter, Cathy, received the news from a friend (one who has been a friend, confidant, travelling companion right through from childhood) that the friend has been given 9 – 12 months to live. The friend, Kate, a remarkable and radiant young lady, is 28 years of age and, 21 weeks pregnant; it seems as if the pregnancy, and its accompanying hormonal imbalance, may have hastened the growth of a brainstem glioma.

It’s only a couple of years ago, after much humming and hawing by the medical profession, that a tumour was removed. In spite of the loss of peripheral vision, epileptic seizures, chronic migraines, Kate always has a ready warm smile for all whom she meets. Having been given the “all clear”, she was assured that the best course of action was to get on with life as normal and, yes, it would be alright to start a family. (The latter advice, in retrospect, seems to have been more than a little suspect).

Last year Cathy had the privilege of attending Kate’s wedding, when Kate married Luke, a young man from Essex she had met during her travels in Australia with Cathy. Cathy has always been determined that Kate would be her bridesmaid when she marries!

The news has been devastating to all of us and, as Cathy says, it’s impossible to imagine a world without Kate. Certainly the world will be much the poorer when the inevitable happens.

The only time we have is now, and whilst our thoughts and prayers go out to and for Kate, her family and all her friends, we must always remember the privilege of sharing / having shared the same planet!

On Parole

Over the course of the past few weeks, great steps forward have been achieved! What I would have considered minute shuffles, in pre-illness times, now seem like immense strides in terms of progress. Increased activity levels have been only moderately counterbalanced by achingly exhausted collapses; the all too familiar roller coaster experience has been transformed into little more than a kiddies replica of the real thing.

Perhaps the greatest advance was a walk into town, the first time I’ve been able to manage that in almost six years and, more importantly, being able to cope with all the audio-visual experiences a town centre throws at one. This comes in the wake of throwing off a chemical lifebelt of anti-depressants, which were supposedly easing my anxiety / panic attacks!

An early morning dose of tramadol hydrochloride (initially prescribed on a more intensive basis to cope with the pain caused by a herniated disc) serves to alleviate the muscular stiffness and spasms which have long been my faithful companions. As a result I have been able to manage more short walks, on top of carrying out various tasks in the garden and my regular culinary activities.

Somehow, the advent of my full pensionable status seems to have coincided with an upturn in my general sense of wellbeing. Perhaps part of it is the newly found freedom from guilt on my better days; the thought that I should attempt a return to gainful employment is no longer part of my agenda. The expectation that I could have done so was totally unrealistic on account of the unpredictability of this condition. Even the re-invigorated Malcolm is still subject to the whims of an achingly exhausted body and, it would be foolish to ignore the more insistent corporeal demands for rest (unless a sense of masochism longed for a painful relapse).

Meantime, I simply give thanks for being paroled from the ME – CFS prison.

Mal's Remarkable Murmurings

It's still early in the morning and, I've already posted a blog, REMARKABLE, on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

tempus fugit - carpe diem

Doesn’t time fly by when one has nothing to do? Maybe I should correct that; one can usually find plenty to do but, time is always too short, especially when one has no fixed agenda.

There was a song, “Who Knows Where The Time Goes”, to which I always wanted to respond, “don’t ask me; it’s one of life’s little mysteries!” Mind you, there have been occasions when time seemed to hang like a leaden pendulum, especially when working as an accounts manager and we suddenly changed from old fashioned double entry book-keeping to a purpose built computerized system. Whereas on the one hand it was a much quicker process, much time was spent twiddling the thumbs, whilst we awaited the snail-mail delivery of our weekly printouts from the mainframe situated some ninety miles away.

Where once a simple glance at the ledger would show where any discrepancy had occurred, thanks to new technology, we now had to trawl through sheaths of lined paper filled with endless repetitions. Don’t get me wrong, accounts work was never mine by choice but rather a means of sustaining me whilst I got on with the important things in life. In those days, the only time that flew by was those hours outside of the office ones!

Later employment, working for the museums and art gallery service, both front and back of house, proved much more rewarding (even if somewhat less lucrative). Once the opportunity arose, not infrequently, to get on ones hobby-horse, time passed as if it had a rocket assisted launch. Even my last paid employment as a caretaker/steward at a thriving parish church, where I frequently toiled well beyond the appointed hours, saw the hours float away!

Nothing to do? I’ve been thinking about that, as my digits stray across the keyboard on auto-pilot: there’s always too much to do, especially the tasks for which I possess neither the necessary physical or emotional stamina! Stamina and intermittent brain-fog permitting, I can get on with my writing, watercolour painting, amateur website building etc, tending to the aquarium and pond inhabitants needs (sometimes not as frequently as I ought to – a missed filter clean/change here and there seems to occur due to lack of time and focus) and general pottering around in the garden.

I even manage to fit in the occasional socializing visit to ‘Open Church’ or ‘Café Culture’, events which health reasons had deprived me of for a rather prolonged period of time. One of these days, I may regain sufficient stamina to go to a gig or concert which was at one time a fairly regular part of my life.

I am extremely grateful for all that I can manage although still succumbing to bouts of frustration regarding the many things that I can no longer manage. Fortunately, “pacing” imposes itself on me when otherwise I would be tempted to return to the old boom and bust cycle. It’s almost as if my self-discipline now disciplines me.

Who knows where the time goes? I don’t really care, we only have one life and we’d better make the most of it!

Sleeping - Waking - Waiting

 

It’s no longer sleep that’s the problem but rather waking. Great as it feels to be getting some real deep sleep, having previously experienced so many painfully restless nights, the necessity of sleep now seems to be overplaying its hand. Whilst I am really appreciative of the extra time (theoretically) I have to spend with my beloved, as she has been taking a few days leave, my extra sleep requirement has somewhat eaten into these precious moments.

 

Presently, my pain management routine seems to be kicking in; it’s almost a case of pain remaining at acceptable levels, permitting one the ability to think, and even concentrate, for a somewhat more sustained period. There is just so much to be grateful for!

 

This afternoon, I received a ‘phone call from my GP’s practice and, have duly made an appointment for Wednesday morning to discuss the results of my MRI scan. I’m not committed to anticipating either the worst or the best from these results; it’s simply a case of remaining patient until I get them. It was quite a surprise to hear so soon as, when I’d had the scan last Thursday, they informed me that it would be approximately two weeks before my doctor would have the result.  

The Art of Affirmation

 

Sometimes I think that I’ve grasped it, at other times the whole technique seems to elude me. That sense of gratitude for the many blessings that have come my way is so easily submerged beneath current setbacks, whereas the fact of these setbacks should serve as sufficient reminder of those blessings, rather than a blanket which veils them from view.

 

To give thanks, show appreciation for, the simple fact of being, ensures that the simple ‘given’ takes pride of place. It’s always easy to celebrate a great step forward but, the more consciously we are able to affirm each action, each moment of our lives, those instances become more worthy of affirmation.

 

Sometimes it feels as if one should squeeze the last drop of pleasure out of each experience, wallow in the moment and, if possible ….  What am I talking about, we should try to squeeze the last drop of pleasure, out of each experience, all of the time!

 

Right, I’ve grasped the theory, now all that’s needed is the determination and stamina to practise this affirmative art.

That which was lost is found ....

 

My old favourite, age, usage, and weather gnarled, walking stick has suddenly re-emerged on the scene after a couple of days absence. Great was the rejoicing in the land at this recovery, the stick and I go back a long way and, it’s always good to have a familiar and trusted friend readily to hand. After Friday’s recovery of access to a blocked website, it seems as if the age of miracles is not yet passed.

 

Altogether, it has been a much better day; sunshine replacing last night’s deluge, and a remission from the more severe pains that I had been experiencing. After lunch we took our freshly brewed coffee out into the garden, where we sat beside the pond. It wasn’t long before the urge to do a little pottering about arose, so my beloved went to change out of her Sunday best, whilst I (being perpetually scruffily dressed) was immediately ready to spring into semi-sluggish action.

 

I was able to retrieve some very rich compost from the bottom of our composter, to revitalize part of one of the borders, and sprinkled the remnants of some pre-packaged compost onto other border areas freshly relieved from the ravages of ground elder by my beloved. We really do make a great team, I’m frequently ready to watch whilst Helen does the grafting! Having thoroughly raked over these areas I was able to sprinkle a few teasel seeds into the prepared area. Other batches of wildflower seeds had previously been scattered into seed trays and, hopefully (by next Spring) we’ll have ample seedlings to transplant into our wildflower meadow area.

 

Being the day of rest, it seemed far easier to take my leave from the gardening endeavours whilst I still had stamina in reserve. Pacing doesn’t always come that easy!

 

I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made.

Long-tailed Delight

Just as the needle swings towards, and hovers around, the compass point of self-pity, I shift myself towards the kitchen door, take out a cigarette and inhale deeply. Not that the nicotine alleviates the symptoms but, it does serve as a temporary distraction from my calves apparently laden with heavy toxic waste and the hollow sensation in my upper limbs.

 

No sooner have I drawn deeply from the chemical laden coffin nail than my attention is drawn to the congregation of birds around our various feeding stations. It’s truly delightful to see more than half-a-dozen long-tailed tits amongst the other visitors. We’ve always had plenty of coal tits around and, regular if somewhat spasmodic visits from blue tits and great tits but, previous sightings of this particular variety have tended to be of one bird at a time. It’s quite strange that many of these common birds seem to give the garden a miss, no matter how well we try to cater for their needs.

 

Today, this sighting proved a real godsend. It’s so wonderful to revel in observing nature on ones own doorstep. The traces of self-pity swiftly dissipate, as I immerse myself in a joyous creation! For the moment, the debilitating aches and discomfort can be left to take care of themselves; at least I’ll try my darnedest to ignore them!

Mixed Blessings

All week I’ve been awaiting the arrival of the forecast mini heat wave and, each day offered up my grateful thanks that it hasn’t arrived. Friday proves much warmer, with radiant sunshine from an early hour; I actually ventured out and sat beside the garden pond at an hour when I would normally still be in the duvet realm. By 11.00am it was getting rather too warm so I moved into the new shed to dabble in a little watercolour painting; that’s two days running I’ve attempted to refresh my skills in this particular pursuit, the shed proving much more convenient than the loft space studio. If only my energy resources could be boosted a little more, I may be able to get as much painting done as I managed to fit in on top of my full-time employment.

Late afternoon our friends, from t’other side of Pennines, arrived in Harrogate after a somewhat more arduous journey than had been anticipated; it surely is amazing how traffic hold-ups can almost double the duration of such a journey, my total nightmare scenario. Having taken a little time to unwind at their hotel, my beloved transported them chez nous to share our evening meal and a few glasses of vino. Come evening, the temperature was more conducive to sitting out beside the pond.

This morning, Saturday, I was somewhat shattered with muscle and joint pains struggling to convince me I was awake whilst the soul sought a further bout of sleep (preferably of that all too rare refreshing kind).. Come late morning, a friend from Helen’s schooldays (visiting the area for a few days) called around to visit us and, we ventured out to the pond-side seats once again. The heat proved all too much for me within 30 minutes and, by the time Helen returned a la maison she found me flaked out on the bed. The combination, of heat and socializing, sure takes its toll on this ailing frame of mine. Great as it is to meet up with old friends, my body doesn’t quite appreciate the spirit’s enthusiasm for such endeavours.

Despite my best intentions, the good weather seemed to militate against a further meeting with our Lancastrian friends this afternoon, about which I feel somewhat guilty. Although these little setbacks are far from unknown to me, I still have an intense sense of frustration when even the most modest of socializing plans come to nought! At least, having learned to listen to it, my body forewarns me, at times, when I’m nearing my exertion limit; for that I’m extremely grateful.

In Everything Give Thanks

Although the day started rather muggy, despite a moderately forceful breeze, the atmosphere became fresher as the day progressed; a welcome opportunity to sit beside the pond surveying our modest estate. It’s one of those times when I’m rather overwhelmed by gratitude for these simple delights right on my own doorstep. The sudden sighting of a few baby frogs, emerging from the gardens southern border and, other more mature specimens whose camouflage prevented me from spotting them amongst the ponds vegetation.

 

First thing this morning, bearing in mind that my “first thing” is usually a couple of hours after my other half has gone off to work, I notice a manila envelope on the doormat from the DWP (Department of Work and Pensions) and, it’s with relief that I discover that the next medical assessment review, regarding my Incapacity Benefit, will be due on 8 July 2013. The actual date becomes something of an irrelevance as I will be in receipt of a State Pension from June next year! One side of me thinks it would be really great if I was able to present myself as fit for employment before that date even; at least that would mean I was well enough to pursue some of my former social pursuits. Fortunately, our financial needs are relatively modest; we don’t go in for an extravagant lifestyle even though the wine-cellar suggests otherwise!

 

This morning I ventured down to ‘Open Church’, for coffee and a chat, where the narthex was a real hive of activity as differing groups of toddlers and infants spontaneously and positively interacted. It’s always a treat to catch up with some of the regular, and not so regular, visitors to these weekday coffee mornings. On my return to the homestead, it was great to enjoy the aforementioned outdoor inactivity. I did manage to exert myself sufficiently to transplant a few of the overcrowded tomato plants from the greenhouse to a sheltered spot in the garden border.  [Actually, they were rather sickly specimens which I’d already put out freestanding in their pots, where the wind far too regularly took advantage of their precarious stance!]