Sat to please

                            SAT TO PLEASE

Piper gently whines missing his mistress, and (the now back home) recuperating Beth; no matter how he laments these absences, regardless of duration, they never seem to affect his appetite. The prospect of a treat brings out his sunnier disposition, and his heart melting gaze of adoration; a non-stop supply of food would be his idea of paradise!

I can frequently be a miserable bugger, feeling totally emasculated as physical and emotional stamina rarely seems up to (e.g. furniture shifting / re-arranging) tasks that once would have been a doddle.

No matter how much I appreciate those activities that I can (and do) manage, an aggressive and anxiety laden self-pity, far too often, takes over. Our wonderful hound quite frequently alleviates these more morose moments, just by his close proximity and his readiness to please.

restorative nature

Sitting in the summerhouse, listening to a trill (I could say a thrill) of tweets, croaks, piped and fulsome whistling song of the birds; all seems right with the world. This, after a most reluctant transformation from bed-dweller, lacking in self-affirmation, to house and garden roamer, seems nothing short of a miracle. Yesterdays emotions took quite a heavy toll on my preparedness for the new day and, indeed, little short of an overwhelming terrified sense of aloneness.

Performance of the most simple task began to feel like an insurmountable obstacle, but just as a (claustrophobic) fear of utilizing the new shower room can most likely be resolved by changing the door to open outwards rather than inwards, there are no doubt obvious solutions to other fears which, in any case, are not problems when my reserves of physical & emotional stamina are at their normal restricted plateau.

Anyway, the abundance of birdsong proffers a temporary renewal, and I enjoy watching the avian visitors to our various feeding stations. Lots of starlings from fledgling to mature, a goodly number of blackbirds and house sparrows, the occasional goldfinch and, this morning (a first for many months) a bullfinch, are among today’s visitors At least the feathered community travel to me; the only effort required from yours truly is to open my ears and eyes.

#ME – There and Back Again!

Sometimes it seems that even that moderately low plateau of stamina, is a level too high to return to. At present, a dispiriting pain and ache level of exhaustion seems intent upon taking permanent residence in my limbs and torso; at times its tentacles seem to stretch discomfortingly into head and psyche as well!

There’s always a price to be paid for even a modest additional expenditure of physical and emotional stamina, even when that expenditure itself seemed beneficial. Recuperation from payback seems to be tidal in nature; just when one thinks that the energy tide is in it swiftly ebbs away.

On Saturday 17^th some long standing friends made their way across the Pennines to Harrogate. Upon their arrival at the Cedar Court Hotel they ‘phoned to invite us over for beaucoup de catch up conversation and an early evening meal. The three to four hours spent with them passed in what seemed like one hour tops! Stamina resources didn’t seem to be a problem at all, I simply basked in the socializing experience.

Next afternoon, our friends joined us chez nous, for further chats and an early evening meal’ Fortunately, I’d already prepared a curry, earlier on the Saturday, so there wasn’t too much effort involved in dinner preparation.

Once again the few hours together seemed to pass at supersonic speed. For a while I felt as if my stamina was heading back to pre-illness levels and, I felt quite on form to co-host our monthly Bible Study group, chez nous, on the Monday afternoon. The study and fellowship proved rewarding as usual.

On Tuesday 19^th a degree of payback kicked in. A shattered painful exhaustion, swiftly metamorphosed from simple over-tiredness,to a sharp burning sensation on the uppers of my feet and simultaneous excruciating pains in my upper limbs, Meantime my torso felt crushed and bloated. That’s just a fragment of the discomforting regimen of the day. Wrist, elbow, and back supports were intermittently required, alongside a frequent recourse to tramadol.

By the Wednesday morning I felt as if I was being gradually restored to normality, only to regress on subsequent days. At least I’m now having less recourse to painkillers.

By the beginning of this week I feel as if emotional resilience has returned; all that remains are my more regular aches, pains, and sudden onset bouts of exhaustion.

 As I look out on blue skies, all’s well with the world.

From Storm to Calm

That all too familiar nausea producing tenderness of lymph nodes, particularly axillary & cervical, has returned; the accompanying discomfort frequently seems to precede a more acutely throbbing pain in the upper arm.

Wrist splints and supports, tubular bandages, elbow supports and tramadol are very much in demand at the moment. Omeprazole, mebeverine, and mometasone fuorate seem currently (but hopefully only temporarily) rather less effective, in tackling reflux, IBS, diverticular problems, and rhinitis.

Quite frequently, a variant (as opposed to my more regular nocturnal tradition) of restless leg syndrome seems to take control in the hours out of bed. As I arise from a seated posture, it feels as if I have to make a conscious effort to issue the necessary commands to my lower limbs, to ensure they travel in the intended direction, rather than making a random displacement / detour,  and assuring them that they’re quite capable of supporting my torso.as I move across the room.

Even quite minimal exertion seems to take a disproportionate toll on my shattered constitution. I don’t think I’ve become more lax in ‘pacing’, but rather that my stamina reserves have diminished somewhat, over the years, from their already low plateau.

Apart from the foregoing minutiae of my current state of unhealth, I still feel rather blessed that I have a roof over my head, food in the larder, and other home comforts, but, the real icing on the cake is the love that I share with ma belle Helen. Love is such an amazing thing, a symbol of transcendence in a world dominated by the forces of greed.

To life and love, I raise my glass.

CLOCKWATCHING

Strange how putting the clock back an hour can make one feel capable of regaining time; if only! To be honest though, it’s the very fleetingness of time that I’m still struggling to come to terms with.

As a child it feels as if the next summer holiday, Christmas Day, or even the weekend, can’t ever come soon enough. Confined to the schoolroom, the hours of each day hang leadenly as you watch real life going on at the other side of the window. Mind you this slower passage of time also provided greatly extended hours of play, leaving one exhausted long before the day was done.

These days, after a long night’s unrefreshing sleep and restlessness, that state of exhaustion seems to accompany almost any small task; perhaps it’s not really exhaustion but rather an aching void replacing that illusive space where stamina reserves should be accumulated.

When one’s sundry aches and pains are playing neurological havoc it’s easier to understand the lack of stamina but, this physically aching void doesn’t even seem to require these more tangible ailments. Mind you the IBS, diverticular disease, rhinitis etc; are always lurking just below the surface.

The lower my stamina reserves, the tetchier I become and, whatever reserves are there explode in bursts of angry expletives. I don’t deny that I’ve always had a bit of a temper, the outbursts often justifiable on socio-political grounds, but the frequency of expletives in my occasional outbursts seems to have grown exponentially. Anger stems from frustration, frustration from limitations on both physical and emotional stamina.The truly ridiculous thing is that these outbursts leave me feeling more drained.

Although these aching voids can sometimes feel like an eternal punishment, days (and even years) have passed by so swiftly, as if to emphasize the weight of spiritually / emotionally good days I must be having. Any day spent with my beloved is wonderfully worthwhile, even if I’m not always the best of company.

So little time, and so much I want or intend to do. I’ve put the clocks back but, sadly, I cannot put back time.

apologia

Yet another afternoon spent in the garden, this time in the shade of a parasol beside the pond.

 A couple of weeks ago I’d never have dreamt

of making such a statement having undergone an extremely protracted

autumn and winter of cold and damp weather,

  the wet aspect being but a pale reflection of last summer’s weather.

 In the course of the last couple of weeks we’ve been blessed

 with many warm sunshiny days which inevitably

turned ones thoughts and footfall towards the garden.

 

The preceding paragraph, or words to similar effect,

 were to have been the opening of a web log posting a fortnight ago but,

much to my surprise, I’ve now been able to spend

 even more time in the garden although the weather has once again became more changeable.

I’m still not able to cope with very warm humid atmospheres;

 it’s largely been a matter of choosing the appropriate times and circumstance

 to venture out. I’ve been taking a few snapshots of aspects of the garden’s flora and fauna and,

undertaken some gardening chores

without exerting myself beyond reasonable self-imposed* “pacing” limits!

 

On many occasions, feeling a little guilty

about neglecting the blog, I’ve settled down beside an inert keyboard

with every intention of resuscitating it

but the necessary emotional stamina seems to have been

in extremely limited supply.

 

++++++

 

 

*more honestly “health-imposed” but one likes to feel, to some extent,

in charge of one’s own destiny.

 

 

 

from the frontline

Sometimes it’s difficult, if not impossible, to describe the exhausting ache of self-questioning, veering towards a sense of guilt for being ill and hence, a burden or embarrassment to those who you really care about. I must be honest that even this preludium to a post doesn’t really express the underlying frustration that prompts it; at root, the knowledge that even the best of days carries a stamina rating of perhaps 20 - 30% of my pre-illness norm.

 

What I was really wanting to say is that the relative paucity of postings, arising from a desire to communicate (with and for whom I know not), bears little distinct correlation to my present levels of pain, discomfort, joy or plain normality. There are times when I wish to write but simply lack the necessary energy to place the written words in any meaningful order; at other times I am positively glowing with the enjoyment of spending time with my beloved, excited by the variety of avian visitors to our sundry garden feeding stations, or even the refreshing joy of a brief brisk venture out into the bracing air, can fill me with such glorious images which, were I to write them down, would sound like an overblown description of some utopian paradise.

 

An evening cocktail of tramadol and amitriptylene tends to curb the night pains, even though sleep is invariably of a restlessly intermittent unrefreshing variety. In the morning I continue to take a low dose of sertraline which seems to control the reactive depression which this disease can so frequently carry in it’s wake. Currently I am also taking mebeverine (3 x daily) and lansoprazole (2 x daily) in an attempt to ease my IBS and gastro-oesophageal reflux problems.

 

I am extremely fortunate to experience a fair number of days where pains and muscular spasms are quite simply a faint background hum, futilely struggling against my enjoyment of the day. Unfortunately, at night, as my body strives for rest the fitful pattern of sleep leaves one more vulnerable to these pernicious nauseating pains and spasms.

 

This afternoon, my far too familiar nausea-inducing nagging pains, emanating from the armpit and apparently gnawing through bone and muscle down through biceps to wrist, vengefully returned. A combination of painkillers and splint type wrist supports eventually alleviated this as I rested on the sofa. And so I come to post this, in the hope that at least some of my words convey their intended meaning.

 

Communique ends.

utilized day but what a night

And yesterday I was gifted with a little extra stamina and, I also felt capable of correctly pacing my utilisation of this resource.  Took advantage of this little power surge to top-up and refill the sundry avian feeding stations in our garden; meal worms, sunflower hearts, black sunflower seeds, suet treats etc. most of which swiftly attracted a miscellany of birds ranging from starlings, blackbirds, finches, blue, coal and great tits, collared doves and the odd wood pigeon were all ready for some superior dining experience. I swiftly realised that all the birds’ watering stations needed de-icing so heated up some water.

Already my halo was shining and, I felt totally in control of my physical stamina resource. Mid-afternoon was time to sort out the main aquarium, changing 30 litres (out of the tanks 180litres) and changing nitrate removal filter and a couple of others. Proud of my achievement I relaxed a little before par-boiling a few potatoes, ready for roasting alongside the already simmering casserole which I’d prepared on Sunday.

That’s when the tiredness hit but, fortunately, not uncomfortably so. Come bedtime, I started to feel that I was being punished for the day’s moderate exertions. Perhaps I’m not handling my pacing all that well. Tenderness of the glands under my chin and in the armpits seemed to be sufficiently calmed by a fairly light dose of painkillers but, obviously I’d been deceived again!

Having joined my beloved au lit, decided to watch a diverting little sitcom on TV before snuggling down.  Within about ten minutes of attempting to settle down, the peripatetic clog dancers decided my lower limbs were an ideal place to practice. The duvet felt as if it was scrubbing the skin off my toes as a nausea inducing bruised aching feeling ambled from calf to thigh and back again. Whatever angle I positioned my legs bent or straight, stretched over the end of the bed, hung out over the bed side, the disconcerting ache continued. At one stage I half fell from the bed, my right calf resting on the rug whilst my left lower limb remained in bed, a real groin stretching experience. I can assure you that this posture wasn’t the result of any voluntary action.

Next thing, the old familiar nauseating aches in both arms began to do their darnedest; applying wrist support splints initially seemed to make little difference. I found myself unwittingly whispering, and occasionally screaming, profanities against the Gethsemane night, alongside whimpering like a lonely puppy. Many hours later I started to enjoy a little post-dawn sleep.

Reluctantly, I emerged from the duvet lair, and returned morning greetings to the bright shiny sun!

that old familiar routine

There seems to be an increasing amount of times that I begin to feel (unjustifiably) guilty; at the same time I’m perhaps forgetting many incidents about which I perhaps should have felt guilt. The recent feelings of guilt are invariably related to my (chronic) illness; I can’t help but feel that my inability to socialize, or even far too frequently not being able to go out anywhere at all, places an unfair imposition on my beloved OH.

For the past several weeks I seem to have reverted to an older pattern of routine discomfort. Shatteredness is my routine daily state of being; far too frequently my sluggish emergence from the duvet lair necessitates a further rest after the effort of getting dressed. 

My gradual emergence into the new day, from the nocturnal duvet realm, usually takes place between 10.30 and 11.00am. On a good day, after a reviving intake of caffeine, I’ll go up to the garden pond to feed the fish and, stamina permitting, water the tomato plants in the greenhouse. If it’s a really good day I’ll maybe saunter, stout walking stick enabled, to the neighbourhood parade of shops; other times it will simply be back indoors for a rest.

Unfortunately, at present, I lack the concentration or attention span to settle down to read and enjoy any of the seductive volumes that can be found in abundance chez nous. Where once I enjoyed reading, both for pleasure and study purposes, I now impatiently await those rare intervals when a sufficiency of both physical and emotional stamina is available.

A variability in times it takes for sundry muscular, joint, and other aches and searing pains to set in (and drain my stamina reserves) means that my body imposes a need for further laying down rest any time from early to late afternoon. By this time I’ve often had to don wrist and elbow supports to help ease quite severe discomfort in my limbs. When ma belle is at home she easily recognizes when such rest is needed as pallor suddenly sets in.

By 9.00pm, or shortly thereafter, acute tiredness envelops me, and aided by a dose of amitriptylene and some tramadol to ease pain and muscular spasms, I head up the wooden stairs in anticipation (rarely, if ever, fulfilled) of a good nights sleep!

paucity of posts

sometimes I manage, and even enjoy, a bit of socializing - at others I struggle - things aren't too bad at the moment but I just don't seem to have the right kind of stamina to get down to any writing, hence the paucity of blog posts. Meantime I have posted a few more piccies on 'Mal's Picturebox'

joyous participation

After the preceding rather downbeat post, it comes as something of a relief to be able to report a few days when low key socializing has become very much a part of the week’s routine. Opportunities to participate in quite sustained periods of conversation / dialogue, and a corresponding sufficiency of emotional stamina, have felt almost like little miracles.

It has been far too long since I was a participant, or felt able to participate, in such animated conversation on matters of faith, politics and general life experience. I feel greatly blessed in meeting R. and J. at ‘Open Church’, on Monday, and the subsequent conversation chez nous.  I’ve managed to find the stamina to visit Open Church on three occasions this week, as well as attending and contributing to a lively meeting of the local Labour Party branch and, thoroughly enjoying an evening meal with Janet & Graham at their home in Killinghall.

Wow, I almost feel exhausted by the realization that I’ve been able to manage so much this week.

For all of this I am truly thankful!

the process of aging?

So, it's come to this; old age has got me firmly in its grasp and, I lack the stamina to even attempt to wriggle free!Recent weeks have borne witness to a severe deterioration in my sense of dutiful pride. My old familiar shattering aches, pains and nauseating sense of exhaustion has driven me to .... ! 

Pride still has a hold, on me, as I struggle to prevent the awful truth being broadcast far and wide but, it's no point trying to live a double life, the strain is just too great.

The honest truth is that I've been driven to watching daytime TV and, all I plead for is a little sympathetic understanding! 'Bargain Hunt', 'Doctors', and re-runs of 'Only Fools and Horses' have managed to fill the aching void of inactivity with a modicum of determined purpose. If I can't work up the enthusiasm, or find the necessary energy reserves to purposefully surf the net, tend the garden etc.; at least the vacuum can be filled by my determination to switch on the television over the lunchtime period, starting from a period frequently less than one hour after my emergence from the duvet realm.

The truly worrying factor is that, not infrequently, I'm actually enjoying the viewing experience.

Since last Christmas, I seemed to have had some of my appetite for reading restored, politics, biography, theology, as well as a modicum of fiction once more became a part my daily experience but, for the past few weeks, my stamina reserves have only allowed (primarily superficial) casual browsing. I tend to place some of the blame on the warmer weather, which has a knack of depleting my already limited reserves of stamina but, I can't help wondering if in fact the real culprit is Father Time.

The Opening of the Floodgates

Just suddenly found myself to be a totally blubbering wreck. I've no idea where the floods of tears came from but, it certainly must have performed some type of tear duct flushing. I was quite happily surfing the net when, suddenly, the armpit discomfort forced me into pressing my upper arms tightly against my torso; it was also essential to put on a wrist support / splint to remove the numbingly aching pain in hand and forearm. Having, from necessity, shut down the PC, I went downstairs to join ma belle.

As my beloved will be seeing her friend this evening, she wondered what I'd like for lunch and profferred the suggestion that maybe I'd like to take advantage of the OAP concession at the local chippie. The fish and chips from this particular outlet are really delicious, a wonderful inexpensive treat, so the suggestion should have been greeted with unconditional enthusiasm! Unfortunately, with my haphazard assortment of gastric disorders, the last couple of times I've enjoyed this feast there have been subsequent repercussions. As this thought passed through my mind, the almost hysterical tearful effusion occurred.

At this point my total distrust of the GPs I've visited recently came to the fore; I've increasingly been made to feel that I'm a nuisance and a waste of their time (wittingly or unwittingly I don't know). Since concentrating on treatment of GORD, any mention I, or my beloved, make of my underlying ME-CFS symptoms / ailments, are swiftly brushed aside / ignored. On the last visit I was asked, in an accusatory manner, why I'd been seeing different doctors (from within the practice), ignoring the fact that on several occasions follow-up appointments booked with the same GP, either online or at the surgery, have subsequently been cancelled, via 'phone calls from the surgery, and alternatives have had to be arranged. I'm also dependent on the availability of ma belle chauffeuse, to get me to the surgery, so also have to work around this; the alternative would be a two bus journey each way and, since 2003 I have found this mode of transport extremely stressful.

When I went to the hospital's phlebotomy department yesterday, for sundry samples to be taken, I was reminded that a consultant endocrinologist had informed the practice that certain of these tests, to monitor my condition, should be carried out at least every six months; this has not happened for the past few years (probably since the previous senior partner, who was my primary reason for remaining with the practice, retired from the practice).

Perhaps the fact that I'm currently on antibiotics, in addition to sundry other medications, suggests that I'm at a particularly low ebb. The opening of the floodgates proved difficult to understand, nonetheless, as I haven't been feeling at all depressed (just ill)! Maybe I'm  a little more frail (and vulnerably de-energized) than usual having missed my most recent physio / acupuncture treatment; the physios services were required, to deal with some very urgent cases, by another district within the health authority, which no longer employs anyone in an equivalent position, quite likely a result of the ConDems ideological cuts. 

*********************

P.S. a rather more upbeat postscript to this posting can be found on my 'Mal's Murmurings' blog, apropos the floodgates.

Testing The Limits

Sometimes the stamina, or at least a small portion of it, seems to have returned along with a lurking fear that it's only a mirage. At first one treats it with caution, only too well aware of the consequence of any over exertion but, one is always tempted to test the limits. I've already suffered a moderate setback, in terms of feeling discomfortedly knocked out (rather more dis-eased than my familiar norm) on Thursday as a result of attending the meeting on Tuesday, even though the actual attendance there proved a great morale booster.

Wednesday found my beloved back at the dentist, her earlier trials and tribulations not yet at an end.

After Thursday mornings painfully aching shatteredness, a fresh influx of stamina seemed to come my way by Friday afternoon and, I actually managed to transfer some of the compost from the bottom of our (compost) bin across to one of the garden borders. The garden always seems to reward us well, in terms of floral display; a disproportionate gratitude for our puny endeavours.



Thursday and Friday both saw an abundance of avian visitors to our garden, nothing new, but a fair cross selection of our familiar visitors, goldfinches, blue tits, dunnocks, sparrows, blackbirds, robin, wood pigeon, collared doves, chaffinch etc but then, today saw only a very sparse sprinkling of any variety. Until this evening I'd forgotten all about the Big Garden Birdwatch so, I'll have to set an hour aside tomorrow, regardless of how representative it turns out to be!

Much Ado about Something

I still wait, in vain, for a stamina infusion but, I'm simultaneously resigned to such a miracle witholding its appearance. At least I managed to attend the Labour Party branch AGM last evening but, didn't have the physical or emotional reserves to hang around for the potentially more interesting ordinary meeting which followed it. It was good to meet some of the other party members and, get a feel for the prevalent mood and spectrum of its activists.



Although physically fairly shattered from this outing, the mental stimulus prevented me from getting a truly restful nights sleep. Actually, having just made that remark, I have to acknowledge that 'refreshing' sleep is, in my case, honoured more by its absence.


My beloved had an appointment with her dentist this morning, to have the majorly offending tooth extracted but, once more the visit took a disproportionate toll. On this occasion part of the problem was that the gum beneath the extracted tooth was still infected, despite the best efforts of a double course of antibiotics and, her dentist was left wondering why the maxillo-facial / dental consultant she saw at the hospital hadn't done more!

Where I Stand

 Last night brought me a better amount of sleep, retiring at 9.30pm and emerging at around 10.30am this morning (with one or two earlier intermittent  interludes of "wakefulness") but, my whole psychosomatic being still feels rather unrefreshed. I've just recently popped out into the garden to replenish the bird feeders and, subsequently witnessed a modest increase in the number of avian visitors to our estate! 

 

As I don't seem to have sufficient emotional stamina, at present, to do a proper post, I thought I'd share a comment I left last evening on one of the blog sites (The Socialist Way) that I frequently visit, as I think it reasonably summarizes where I stand politically.

 

 

Malcolm said...

It's a truism that Parliament will never be the means by which socialism, or any kind of equitable society, can be established - indeed the whole capitalist apparatus is antipathetic to fairness. This purportedly democratic system seems destined to control us, via the dictatorship of business and media moguls, as well as the armed and police forces, for a considerable time yet. Having said that, I did rejoin the Labour Party last year, not under an illusion that they will bring about any kind of anti-capitalist change but, in the vain hope that they may be restored to a party prepared to proclaim the aims of clause 4 part 4, and move (albeit only marginally) towards its enactment. One can but dream! What I've always found even more upsetting than the Labour Party's betrayal of the very people who established the original Labour Representation Committee, is the constant factional bickering between cadres of sundry revolutionary socialist groupings. (I have to admit that I wasted a fair amount of my younger years inadvertently entangled in the resulting schismatics).

 

19 January 2011 21:04

Unrefreshed

Last night, I once again pursued a pattern of erratically intermittent unrefreshing sleep; the primary evidence that I slept at all is the vague memory of awaking from rather fraught dreams. Of course there’s always the possibility that the memory itself is a false one.

That old familiar sensation, of sharply bruised aching discomfort emanating from the armpits, returned with a vengeance and, I was forced to remove my (not overly tight fitting) pyjama jacket to escape a sense of torso choking strangulation – armpits replacing the neck as the constricted airway. At this stage even my PJ trousers seemed to become an instrument of torture, the groin area coming out in sympathy with the armpits, and so were duly removed.

Unfortunately, as a result of the restless night, I lacked sufficient stamina to attend the funeral / thanksgiving service for a friend of mine and I am struggling to prevent this non-attendance adding to that burden of guilt about which I wrote yesterday.

On a more positive note, my beloved is finally starting to show signs of recovery from the events of last Monday and was able to attend the service along with Beth.

A Paucity of Postings

Not only a total lack of stamina, but also the distracting neuropathic pain, seem to conspire against my frequent intention to prepare a further instalment of my weblog. The more severe bouts of gastric reflux have been kept at bay by my current (twice-a-day) lansoprazole regime; I only wish the naggingly persistent elements and the more intermittent sharply focussed lightning bolts of pain, traversing the spine to ankle pathway, could be equally calmed! Regular dosages of tramadol and an evening dose of amitryptiline do alleviate a little of the dis-ease and, for that I am grateful.

The recent cold spell has proved totally antipathetic to my more generalized neuropathy; the combination of chilling winds and icy conditions underfoot ensured that I daren't venture outside of the house for several days. The lack of exercise, whilst eliminating any risk of post-exertional malaise, does little to improve ones already depleted energy reserves.

The risk of wallowing in self-pity has been countered by my enthusiasm and pride at following the newly found wave of activism amongst students. Although I am unable to attend these demonstrations against the cuts, tuition fees, and tax dodgers, I am certainly with them in spirit! 

Refreshment and Renewal

After those all too recent weeks when I was so far out of it, in that realm of drifting hollow giddiness and fluctuating levels of nausea, each days activities have taken on a sense of refreshing excitement. Of course recent days have been even more special, as my beloved hasn't been at work; we have been able to enjoy so many more hours of quite simply basking in each others company. It's as if that "being in love" sensation is constantly being replenished; not only does my love for Helen grow (impossible as it may seem) ever deeper but so does my whole enthusiasm for life, exhaustion permitting.

The rapidity with which days, weeks, months, and even years, pass by is sort of frightening. There's always so much to do and appreciate that time itself becomes a luxury, something to be caressed and indulged to the full. We've especially enjoyed Cathy enabled visits of her godson Joseph, an energetic and super inquisitive nine month old chortling bundle of joy! His eagerness to observe, and respond, to all that goes on around him proves quite infectious; it's almost as if it reinforces ones own need to ensure that we're not missing out on anything of potential value, a craving for fresh experience.

Although we've not made any effort to "get away", during ma belle's holiday, we have rung the occasional change to routine via visits to local restaurants, cafes and garden centres, as well as taking advantage of some fine weather to do a bit more planting, tidying and reorganizing of the garden. To me, part of the beauty of this work in the garden is preserving a "natural" rather than more cosmetically structured  appearance.

Friday lunchtime, on a whim, we ventured down to Brio's a reasonably local bar and eatery, even within my meagre walking range, where I settled for one of my favourite italian dishes, linguine marinara, whilst my beloved selected and enjoyed the pescatrice con speck (monkfish parcelled in speck ham).

On Saturday, late afternoon, I prepared a meal which served us for both Sunday and Tuesday lunch. It essentially utilized a 'Madras' curry paste, in addition to my own unique spice mixture, which infused the beef meatballs, sliced new potatoes, mushrooms, yellow and green peppers and tinned tomatoes; on each occasion I served it with saffron rice and a side dish of broccoli. Last evening we were invited for an evening meal at Janet (the only one of Helen's siblings who lives locally) & Graham's home where the wonderfully succulent slices of roast, lamb, served with roast potatoes and some home grown veg proved a real treat.

Today, we attended a coffee morning at Burnbridge, where the proceeds were for the MRDF (Methodist Relief & Development Fund); a guest speaker, and his wife, provided a concise and informative account of some of the projects in which they've been involved in Nepal.

An evening out, swiftly followed by a morning event, has proved somewhat demanding on my familiarly diminished stamina reserves but, I wouldn't have wanted to miss either event. A brief unsolicited afternoon nap imposed itself upon me but, I can still find time to rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

still snacking after all these years

Difficult to know whether I'm recovering, and what I'm recovering from; I'm certainly feeling a little more comfortable than I was at the beginning of the week! Muscles in chest, shoulder and lower limbs still feel rather achily tender but, definitely more comfortable than they were at the weekend. I'm really feeling relaxed after this afternoon's acupuncture session, though not in any spaced-out sense and, actually enjoyed a bit of grocery shopping with ma belle before we dined this evening.

Doesn't the word "dined" sound rather glamorous, much more romantic than "had something to eat"? Actually it was a very lazy re-heat job, a Waitrose Indian meal for two - chicken jalfrezi, chicken makhani, aloo sag, naan bread and pilau rice. Although I often devise my own curry dishes, I rarely bother to make more than one variety (usually a hybrid one) of curry at any particular time, the extra variety in these lazy banquets is a rather enticing experience - like a super snack! Much as I enjoy cooking and occasionally - emotional stamina permitting - dining out, at heart I'm much more of a snacker than a substantial meal type of guy.

Now doesn't that all sound somewhat boring - even that's just the kind of guy I am!