Who Knows ... ?

Who knows where the time goes? Is it a song, is it a bird or, is it quite simply a statement of my reality? Truth be told, I love the song but, even more, I find myself wondering exactly where it does go! Strange how it sounds like either a metaphysical or a pure physics question.

 

Where once I regularly managed, or indeed needed to, post a blog entry every day, in these days of idleness it’s often difficult to find the space in my non-routine to fit it in. Sometimes, I’m quite amazed that I manage to get anything done; day-dreaming proves such a time consuming occupation!

 

My thoughts often turn to serious issues like how a military force that moves in defence of a brutally repressed separatist movement in Eastern Europe (think South Ossetia) can be considered wrong, as it thwarts the goal of an American educated and supported President with an army partly American trained, whilst the people who offer such condemnation think nothing of slaughtering innocent Iraqis in the course of perpetrating an illegal war! Issues of sovereignty suddenly loom large. Sadly, when the big boys play their self-interested games, it’s always the innocents that suffer most.

 

When it comes to politics, there seems to be little room for morality. There was a time when I was a truly political animal, it served to take the place of the evangelical religious faith I had recently rejected owing to its reactionary asocial outlook. Even then though, I was a creature of contradictions, a would-be pacifist longing to man the barricades in the cause of social justice, a pothead serving a puritanical Trotskyite sect, a Buddhist clinging to the material world.

 

This isn’t the post I sat down to write but, who knows where the words flow?

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!

Elements Of Surprise

Perhaps I’m still not sufficiently in tune with the warning signals my body emits. My confidence in the ability to recognize acceptable levels of exertion is perhaps misplaced. This evening, totally unexpectedly, an onslaught of old familiar symptoms pounced upon me. A nagging, nausea provoking, bruising discomfort simultaneously attacked shoulders and upper arms, forearms and wrists, as well as a distinct sense of dis-ease in hips, thighs and right calf. These symptoms were swiftly followed by a tender discomfort in the glands of left armpit and my neck.

 

Such a congregation of ailments, gathered in one place at one time, have been almost unknown for the past couple of years, in spite of occasional irregular visitations in a variety of different combinations. As it proved impossible to find a comfortable position in which to relax, an attempt at exorcising these harsh discomforts by writing them down seemed a reasonable idea. To my surprise, as I force my fingers to strike the appropriate keys the symptoms themselves have abated to a less excruciating level.

A Matter Of Time

Well, once again I’m rather shattered but, I didn’t get here without a fight. In the course of the past week I’ve managed to get a bit more work done in the garden. Yet another water feature is now part of our garden-scape, this time a small pre-formed pond close to the greenhouse, as home to one or two marginal plants, a water lily and hopefully, in the course of time, a multiplicity of fauna. The digging out proved remarkably easy, until I hit the clay layer, but thinking back a couple of years I wouldn’t have even been able to contemplate this kind of endeavour. I have to admit that, what would have been a couple of hours effort (before returning to other tasks) in pre-illness days, had to be spread over days rather than hours!

Our main, and deepest pond, framed with reeds, water spearmint and flag iris, is also home to a few water lilies and a selection of variegated goldfish. There’s certainly no paucity of frogs in the garden, despite the havoc wreaked on the tadpole population by the fish. To one side of the garden we have a heavily planted circular patio pond as well as other sunken water containers scattered around.

Today was heavy weeding day, closely supervised by small flotillas of tortoiseshell butterflies on adjacent buddleias but, just over one hour of effort presented my body with all the warning signals that I needed to rest.

After a little rest, I was able to get on with preparations for Sunday lunch; what I’d do without the heavy duty wok is a bit of a mystery to me now; I always prepare my casserole dishes, curries, saffron rice, stir fries etc in this utensil.

My casseroles frequently start with the same ingredients but it’s amazing the difference a random sprinkling of a few different spices and herbs make to the end result. Today’s effort began with a generous sprinkling of ground black pepper and Tabasco sauce onto the freshly diced chicken breasts, left to stand whilst I prepared a couple of onions, yellow, red and green peppers, and sliced a couple of handfuls of closed cup mushrooms.

The olive oil in the wok was generously infused with paprika, coriander, cumin, turmeric and a sprinkling of mixed herbs. Firstly I browned the onions before throwing in the diced chicken then, after a few minutes stirring added the sliced peppers a short while before I added the mushrooms. A tin of plum tomatoes was next to go in, more freshly ground black pepper added at this stage. Having ensured that I’d sufficiently pulped the tomatoes, I left the lidded wok to simmer for few more minutes before adding a jar of creamy mushroom sauce.

The resulting concoction has now been decanted into a couple of casserole dishes and, par-boiling of my special herbed and spiced potatoes, which I’ll roast tomorrow, is all that remains for me to do. My beloved always sees to the accompanying greens!

I hadn’t intended to write about my cooking, just as I didn’t know I was going to write about the garden; it quite simply felt that a blog posting was overdue and, the keyboard took over!

I rejoice and give thanks for this day the Lord has made.

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.

Why not flutter by Mals Factory?

A freshly minted poem, FLUTTER BY MOMENT, sparked by the shirtsleeve incident, can be found on Mal's Factory

Shirtsleeve Plays Host

Yesterday was one of those days when, although the threat of another rain shower seemed omnipresent, the sun did manage on several occasions to break through the cloud cover. In many ways it was the kind of day I prefer, sufficient breeze to prevent the atmosphere from becoming too hot and cloying. Like most people, I love to see and feel the sun shining brightly but, at the same time, my body has a quite low tolerance level for heat. My body thermostat being somewhat erratic, I can sweat profusely with the least prompting and, feel even more drained than my familiar norm once the thermometer rises beyond the upper teens (centigrade).

This was not always the case but is rather something that emerged with the onset of my illness. [Admittedly, I'm one of those rare people who managed to suffer from sunstroke in the British Summer, whilst doing a vacation job as a gardener in my student days.]

As I was saying, before I so rudely interrupted myself, yesterday was one of those kind of days that I enjoy tolerating. I even managed to spend some time sat on the garden bench, beside the pond, whilst my beloved carried out some serious weeding duties in one of the garden borders. Whilst sat there, I was privileged to receive an immigrant visitor, A Red Admiral butterfly, to whom my shirt sleeve played host as he basked for a few minutes during one of the intermittent sun showers. This was my first sighting this year, in our garden, and it was a real pleasure to share those few intimate moments. Although many of the flowers have played host to both large and small whites, tortoiseshells and meadow browns, the presence of the Red Admiral suggests that summer is really here, no matter what the weather may seem to say!

In this part of the country the Buddleia blossom has just started to open, so I look forward to many more Lepidopteron visitors.

But You Don't Look Sick

"Yesterday, I heard yet another person complaining about people being on the sick unnecessarily & get free cars etc. I do wish some people would realise that some people are disabled even though they look perfectly normal. To get any sickness benefits you have to go through rigorous medicals."

The above is an extract from an excellent, heartfelt, blog post on our judgemental attitude towards those people unfortunate enough to have an invisible disability.

To read the full post click here or copy and paste the following link : 

http://journals.aol.co.uk/peliad/the-oxcliffe-vixen/entries/2008/07/17/disability/1521

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!]

Reelin' and Rockin'

I’m reeling somewhat from the verbal abuse delivered by the big boss; all that I’d done was use my lunch hour to visit a friend. What he’d seemed puzzled about was my expectation, that it was possible to visit an antipodean friend, at home, during my lunch hour. Yes, I know that it took a little longer break than usual, to travel halfway around the world and back but, I also know that he’s extended his coffee breaks on numerous occasions.

I wake up feeling battered and bruised; it’s hard to believe that a barrage of words can cause such physical damage. Thank God, it was just a dream; don’t think I could have taken much more of this stress. The dream was so ludicrous anyway, a couple of hundred yards is the furthest I’d ever travel during a lunch break and, my aversion to travel, makes the dreamt adventure seems suspiciously representative of some subconscious masochistic yearning.

My beloved suggests a plausible connection between my dream and very recent reality. Yesterday afternoon, after many hours of restful inactivity in preparation (on my part), ma belle chauffeuse drove me to a barbecue*, some twenty five minutes away from home; most of the journey was on the A1 before manoeuvring our way through a couple of potholed, spasmodically flooded, country lanes. Even that little journey provides me with sufficient stress induced exhaustion.

Once we get there, I recover sufficiently to become, temporarily, my old sociable self, contentedly sharing conversation and anecdotes with the assembled company. The company and the pastoral location prove most rewarding but, that doesn’t prevent a state of mind and bone numbing fatigue overwhelming me by 9.00pm. Everything around us is still in full swing but, I can’t risk overdoing it!

So, here in the real world, I recognize that this small excursion is my equivalent of that travel so casually undertaken by my dream-self!

________________

* for more details of the barbecue see my beloved's posting on her Bright Light blog.