Bright and Lazy

A bright and mild morning faced me on my slow emergence from duvetdom and, I revelled in the delights of struggling into a bath in my own home! A further rest was required after this exertion, almost as if I’d been taking a shower. A traditional egg, bacon and black pudding breakfast was followed by the equally conventional Saturday morning/early afternoon lounge around, today in the company of ‘The NewsQuiz’ (Radio 4) and ‘It’s Been A Bad Week’ (Radio 2); I’d even found time, before that, to listen to Mark Lamarr with Joe Brand … a refreshing change in the usual Jonathon Ross slot (Radio 2).

Feeling quite venturesome, I might even pay a visit to my (service-free) bank to obtain a statement from one of the machines contained therein. I’ve not yet got around to online banking, preferring the more personal touch of an almost ‘real’ bank as opposed to the virtual kind. So, that’s today’s great adventure recorded in advance of the actual event.

Personal Hygiene As A Torture Regime

Being without a bath or shower facility, my beloved arranged an alternative venue where we may partake of such luxuries. As an idea it was quite wonderful but, the reality is best forgotten.

The bath was either half or three-quarters of the size of what I had misguidedly assumed was the norm. The hand-held shower device was situated beneath the sloping roof of the terrace house. Being unable to adjust the shower-head to an appropriate temperature, or work out how it could be used other than from a seated position, formal bathing was decided upon.

My joints, being the semi-inflexible source of current spasmodic discomfort, were instantly traumatized by the experience but, I must admit it felt nice to have water splashing upon the torso. The real delights occurred as I tried to remove myself from the washtub.

The difficulty encountered when moving, from a seated with legs (of necessity) bent position, into the appropriate semi upright position required to remove ones-self from the bathing receptacle, is almost beyond description. My beloved’s (reasonable sounding) suggestion that I turn onto my knees was taken on board, thwarted only by the restraints of the washtub’s width. Visions of emergency services being called, to remove me, were at the forefront of one’s mind. [The time is none too distant since they had to rescue me from the stairs in my own home].

Eventually, I managed to overcome the resistance of back, arm and leg muscles (and the pertinent joints) to perform my own deliverance!

Normal Service May Be Resumed ... One Day!

My genial (?) disposition is beginning to wear a bit thin and, I’ve not yet hit the start date for my quitting smoking regime. The house is currently without a bath or shower and, the bathroom is still sans washbasin. That old bugbear ‘fatigue’ is walloping me with a vengeance, even after a good night’s sleep last night.

The tiling of the bathroom had to be called off, with the workmen’s sudden realization that the walls required a little more plaster! Unlike my better half, I don’t have the energy reserves to have, or even to contemplate having, an all-over wash at the washbasin in the front bedroom midst the upheaval's extraneous clutter.

Everything seems to be out of kilter; with my great-niece’s first birthday coming up this weekend we couldn’t even find one of my two address books to post off her special birthday card. My beloved managed to find one of them after a stressful search through our combi-clutter.

Perhaps some of the stress will ease a little when we once more have a functioning bathroom! The last couple of years have seen the addition of Warm Roof insulation and the consequent moving of the trapdoor, floor and storage units installed in the loft, a complete new dampcourse and subsequent redecoration of the main ground floor rooms. The hallway and kitchen still display their proud dampcourse wounds, some eighteen months after they were perpetrated. A new pond was also installed in the garden.

Perhaps one day normality will return but, energy reserves ... well, that’s a different matter.

Grating Anticipations

Today is the day for the new lower ceiling to be installed in the bathroom and, already I’ve had an extremely restless night in anticipation of the disruption. It will also be the day when the new bath is installed. It’s just as well we have a washbasin in the front bedroom as the bathroom is currently sans such a utility.

I have every faith in the workmen performing the transformation; the major problem is my current inability to cope with any changes to my ‘familiar’ environment. Never thought there would come a day when I became Malcolm the conservative!

I know at some point the electricity, as well as the water, will have to be turned off so it’s pretty much a case of “gather ye rosebuds while ye may”.

In comes the plumber, out goes the psychiatrist

This morning the plumber arrived, to commence work on the bathroom; unfortunately the bath didn’t, so today has been primarily a day of dismantling. The van from Ideal Standard forgot to unload the bath although all the ‘pottery’ is available.

Hopefully the new bath and shower will be installed tomorrow. Found it hard to settle during the night, in anticipation of the disruption, although after an earlier false alarm did fall back to sleep until around 8.45am.

Kept an appointment with the psychiatrist this afternoon and, he confirmed that he didn’t think I had any mental health problem and, definitely no depression. What complex psychosomatic beings we are ... albeit I’m relieved to be more somatic than psycho! So, no more appointments.

Inflation : The High Cost of Getting Lost

The letter box goes “clunk” and, lo and behold … “Santa’s Christmas Gift Collection”, a catalogue from comet, has been delivered.

On page 9, a satellite navigation pack is advertised and, the text reads, “never get lost again for under £200!”

does this mean that, in future, it will cost far more, for any one of us, to get lost?

Atonement

Concentration not being what it used to be, I don't get around to much reading these days but, I have become enthused by a recent collection of essays tackling "the myth of redemptive violence" and the (erroneous) Christian doctrine of "penal substitution". It is very much a book dealing with the existential, social & political implications of the Gospel.

Title: "Consuming Passion : Why the killing of Jesus really matters"

Profits before People ... the old, old story

Drink giants' plans to fuel binge Britain · £20,000 bonuses for pub managers who exceed targets · Staff race to sell more shots

I find this ‘story’ in today’s Observer particularly disturbing (especially in the light of my recent posting regarding alcoholism/alcohol abuse).

The X Factor

Some real ‘star’ performances on “The X Factor” this evening. It really was great to see Shayne on top form, he definitely has the ‘X factor’. As I commented last week, Shayne was my tip from the audition phase of the show and, tonight he really proved himself. Journey South were just brilliant natural performers; I suppose it has taken their years of experience to make them so natural. Brenda really took possession of the stage and that personality it’s just irresistible.

A good show all around, even Chico was very watchable. One felt sorry for Philip’s nervousness but, one can only hope he’s not saved by a sympathy vote. The hell of controlling such excessive nervousness could maybe harm his appealing personality… trying to become a ‘star’ can never be an easy journey!

Were I to cast a vote, I wouldn’t know where to begin. All I know is that my beloved would buy an album by Journey South and, I couldn’t raise any objection to that.

Aftermath

Great, I thought, after a late arising and (later still) post-noon shower, no marked ill-effects from yesterday’s Heterocon recorded exertions. Tired, indeed I was (and am) but, not totally exhausted! Come 2.00pm, a few minor aches begin in shoulders and upper arms and, an unsolicited ‘phone call brings out the full force of my fatigue induced tetchiness.

Half-an-hour later, the effort of scrolling the pages on the web becomes slightly discomforting; strangely this discomfort in using my right-hand has led to symptoms causing me to apply a wrist support to the left one. Discomfort has by now returned to the armpits (right and left); as I type this missive one-handedly I am compelled to clasp both upper-arms vertically against my torso.

The re-action to yesterdays lawn-mowing is not what I could have foreseen; at least I am only semi-knocked-out.