- living and frequently struggling with moderate M.E. -
where (bad) health, faith, politics and the joys and troubles of daily life collide.
ME
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Malcolm's Travellers Tale
Once again, I've managed a weekend away and apart from a generalized fatigue and the usual aches I'm here to tell the tale!
24th March 2007
As we journey westwards, the day brightens and, once again I’m enraptured by the beauty on our doorstep as we traverse the dales and moorland. As we enter Lancashire, the roadside welcome sign is subtitled “Where Everyone Is Welcome”; I find myself wondering whether our return journey will witness a sign reading “Where No One Cares” as we re-enter God’s own county. The journey goes smoothly and, neither myself nor ma belle chauffeuse feel too exhausted by the effort.
Having signed in at the Travel Inn, my first impulse is to go and have a lie-down on the bed. After a brief rest, we look out of the window and see our friends Peter & Pamela have arrived at the nearby bar so, duty calls us to venture across and share a few glasses of vino before deciding on our evening meal. The conversation flows quite fluidly, after all, we’ve got a couple of years to catch up on since our previous meeting. That’s the beautiful thing about friendship, it’s almost as if the conversation continues from just the day before; an understanding of each others humour and situation makes things so much easier. Pamela and I are the experienced old crocks, Pamela having been a wheelchair user for many years now, although the image in my mind of her racing up fellsides, Peter and I breathlessly following, still seems fresh.
I’ve known the two P’s since university days and, Peter was best man when I married Helen seven brief years ago. Much as travelling disagrees with me, meeting up with old friends makes it most worthwhile. By the time we’ve had our meal, Pamela shows obvious signs of flagging so, we bid our adieus and, it’s not that much later when fatigue takes over for Helen and myself so, an early night is called for.
25th March 2007
To my surprise, we managed to make it down for breakfast in good time but, those old weary blues caught up with me by the time we’d ventured back to our room. A further lie down was called for and, this accounted for the rest of the morning (and early afternoon). By 2.00PM we were ready to head off to Peter & Pamela’s abode and, it wasn’t long before we ventured across to their wine cellar to select a bottle of bubbly. Conversation found its own direction and, we chatted about their Australian holiday as we looked at a few of the copious quantity of photos taken on that occasion as well as venturing down memory lane. For our meal we enjoyed one of Peter’s celebrated kipper and egg kedgerees accompanied by one of Tony Laithwaite’s Chilean Sauvignons. I declined the dessert, which the other three managed to demolish without my participation.
We arrived back at the hotel by 9.00PM, switched on the telly to watch what turned out to be a Jane Austen travesty, switched off the telly after about twenty minutes of this abhorrence and, decided it was time for an early night.
26th March 2007
Once more, this time slightly more of a struggle, made it down in time for breakfast then ventured back to the room where the need for rest was instantly apparent. I duly settled on the bed for forty winks but, when the staff came round to clean the room around 11.00AM I was sound asleep. Emerged from my slumbers at 11.30AM and we went out to sit and have a coffee on the benches outside of the bar whilst the necessary tasks were fulfilled by room service. Back to the room for a bit more rest and, I was just about alert by our friends arrived to direct us to their local, ‘The Hest Bank’. This proved a great opportunity to meet their friends, from Geriatrics Corner, much feted by both Peter and Pamela in their respective blogs. The most difficult decision for me to make, on this occasion, was that between ‘Black Sheep’, ‘Timothy Taylor’s Landlord’ or ‘Caledonian’. A couple of pints of ‘Black Sheep’ sufficed for me before we perused the menu. After an enjoyable meal, it was once more time to bid our farewells, an early night once more being a necessary part of our agenda.
24th March 2007
As we journey westwards, the day brightens and, once again I’m enraptured by the beauty on our doorstep as we traverse the dales and moorland. As we enter Lancashire, the roadside welcome sign is subtitled “Where Everyone Is Welcome”; I find myself wondering whether our return journey will witness a sign reading “Where No One Cares” as we re-enter God’s own county. The journey goes smoothly and, neither myself nor ma belle chauffeuse feel too exhausted by the effort.
Having signed in at the Travel Inn, my first impulse is to go and have a lie-down on the bed. After a brief rest, we look out of the window and see our friends Peter & Pamela have arrived at the nearby bar so, duty calls us to venture across and share a few glasses of vino before deciding on our evening meal. The conversation flows quite fluidly, after all, we’ve got a couple of years to catch up on since our previous meeting. That’s the beautiful thing about friendship, it’s almost as if the conversation continues from just the day before; an understanding of each others humour and situation makes things so much easier. Pamela and I are the experienced old crocks, Pamela having been a wheelchair user for many years now, although the image in my mind of her racing up fellsides, Peter and I breathlessly following, still seems fresh.
I’ve known the two P’s since university days and, Peter was best man when I married Helen seven brief years ago. Much as travelling disagrees with me, meeting up with old friends makes it most worthwhile. By the time we’ve had our meal, Pamela shows obvious signs of flagging so, we bid our adieus and, it’s not that much later when fatigue takes over for Helen and myself so, an early night is called for.
25th March 2007
To my surprise, we managed to make it down for breakfast in good time but, those old weary blues caught up with me by the time we’d ventured back to our room. A further lie down was called for and, this accounted for the rest of the morning (and early afternoon). By 2.00PM we were ready to head off to Peter & Pamela’s abode and, it wasn’t long before we ventured across to their wine cellar to select a bottle of bubbly. Conversation found its own direction and, we chatted about their Australian holiday as we looked at a few of the copious quantity of photos taken on that occasion as well as venturing down memory lane. For our meal we enjoyed one of Peter’s celebrated kipper and egg kedgerees accompanied by one of Tony Laithwaite’s Chilean Sauvignons. I declined the dessert, which the other three managed to demolish without my participation.
We arrived back at the hotel by 9.00PM, switched on the telly to watch what turned out to be a Jane Austen travesty, switched off the telly after about twenty minutes of this abhorrence and, decided it was time for an early night.
26th March 2007
Once more, this time slightly more of a struggle, made it down in time for breakfast then ventured back to the room where the need for rest was instantly apparent. I duly settled on the bed for forty winks but, when the staff came round to clean the room around 11.00AM I was sound asleep. Emerged from my slumbers at 11.30AM and we went out to sit and have a coffee on the benches outside of the bar whilst the necessary tasks were fulfilled by room service. Back to the room for a bit more rest and, I was just about alert by our friends arrived to direct us to their local, ‘The Hest Bank’. This proved a great opportunity to meet their friends, from Geriatrics Corner, much feted by both Peter and Pamela in their respective blogs. The most difficult decision for me to make, on this occasion, was that between ‘Black Sheep’, ‘Timothy Taylor’s Landlord’ or ‘Caledonian’. A couple of pints of ‘Black Sheep’ sufficed for me before we perused the menu. After an enjoyable meal, it was once more time to bid our farewells, an early night once more being a necessary part of our agenda.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
more on 'mal's murmurings'
Yesterday's posting, FROM UNPREDICTABILITY TO AFFIRMATION, can be found on MAL's MURMURINGS.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Showers Of Blessing
Oh, the joy, the ecstasy! Who would have thought a piece of moulded plastic, with extendable parts, could be the source of so much pleasure. When my wife purchased it, she thought only of its utilitarian value; in no way could she have imagined the highs produced by this simple device. And the beauty of it is, no batteries required but, such pleasurable moistening!
Needless to say, the device could only be obtained from a shop specializing in such appliances. Where would we be without these specialist outlets?
For more months than I care to remember, a visit to the shower room was fraught with danger. If my beloved wasn’t around, there was no chance of me risking the experience; a sense of aching dis-equilibrium, of imminent collapse, made me fearful of stepping into the shower unattended. For far too long, my stubbornness resisted the beloved’s suggestion that some bath or shower aids would help. Personal hygiene was something reluctantly attended to. No matter how long the preceding period of bed-rest, by the time I’d showered and towelled I was so shattered that a further hours rest was called for before I could even consider the exertion required to clothe myself. Rather than being a refreshing experience, the effort involved ensured it was an extremely enervating one.
There are still many occasions when I seem to lack the necessary stamina to get into the shower-bath and, I’m ashamed to admit that showering is not a daily occurrence. Once in the shower though, the stable plastic seat has made a world of difference and, I revel in the warm soft needles of H2O as they caress and soothe my aching muscles.
These days, I can accomplish so much more than seemed possible even a few months ago and, for that I give thanks. I rejoice in the showers of blessing which make life so rich and wonderful. In everything give thanks.
Needless to say, the device could only be obtained from a shop specializing in such appliances. Where would we be without these specialist outlets?
For more months than I care to remember, a visit to the shower room was fraught with danger. If my beloved wasn’t around, there was no chance of me risking the experience; a sense of aching dis-equilibrium, of imminent collapse, made me fearful of stepping into the shower unattended. For far too long, my stubbornness resisted the beloved’s suggestion that some bath or shower aids would help. Personal hygiene was something reluctantly attended to. No matter how long the preceding period of bed-rest, by the time I’d showered and towelled I was so shattered that a further hours rest was called for before I could even consider the exertion required to clothe myself. Rather than being a refreshing experience, the effort involved ensured it was an extremely enervating one.
There are still many occasions when I seem to lack the necessary stamina to get into the shower-bath and, I’m ashamed to admit that showering is not a daily occurrence. Once in the shower though, the stable plastic seat has made a world of difference and, I revel in the warm soft needles of H2O as they caress and soothe my aching muscles.
These days, I can accomplish so much more than seemed possible even a few months ago and, for that I give thanks. I rejoice in the showers of blessing which make life so rich and wonderful. In everything give thanks.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Two watercolours on Garbled Noise
TWO WATERCOLOURS, by yours truly, have been posted on GARBLED NOISE
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Freshly Minted
'SPLASH INTO SPRING', a brand new poem by yours truly, can be found on the new multi-contributor blog GARBLED NOISE!
A brief posting can be found on "Words from an Hirsute Antiquity".
A brief posting can be found on "Words from an Hirsute Antiquity".
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Busy Doing Nothing
Busy doing nothing – at least that’s how I’ve felt the past few days. After a season of reasonably good days, it comes as something of a shock to return to a state of washed-out-ness, that just a few short months ago was my daily norm. Even those muscles I hadn’t realized existed seem to ache today, the ache varying in intensity from a weary numbness to a tightly wrapped band of spikes surrounding each sinew.
Busy doing nothing; at least the time has flown by, despite my routine of minimal activity. I lose count of the hours spent observing the piscine activity in our new aquarium. The three fantail goldfish, and five white cloud minnows, seem to utilize every inch of their 180 litre home. Callie, the calico fantail (please note the total lack of imagination in the naming), seems like a real adventurer now, compared to the nervously timid creature we saw both before and after her treatment for a swimbladder infection in her old residence. Of course she’s no longer confronted by the bullying antics of Jimmy, a common or garden variety of goldfish, currently swimming solo in one of the old tanks prior to his introduction to the inmates of the garden pond come April.
Busy doing nothing; I did, in the course of the week manage a couple of visits down to ‘Open Church’ (for Fairtrade coffee and a chat) and, took my beloved out for a meal at The Park on Thursday. Each of these outings would have been unimaginable just one year ago, so I’ve no cause for complaint. All in all, I feel like a most privileged person; to be loved by, and be in love with, ma belle amoureuse, to have food in my belly, a roof over my head, and a warm fire to sit by.
Take nothing and no-one for granted, just take each day as it comes and, in everything give thanks.
I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made!
Busy doing nothing; at least the time has flown by, despite my routine of minimal activity. I lose count of the hours spent observing the piscine activity in our new aquarium. The three fantail goldfish, and five white cloud minnows, seem to utilize every inch of their 180 litre home. Callie, the calico fantail (please note the total lack of imagination in the naming), seems like a real adventurer now, compared to the nervously timid creature we saw both before and after her treatment for a swimbladder infection in her old residence. Of course she’s no longer confronted by the bullying antics of Jimmy, a common or garden variety of goldfish, currently swimming solo in one of the old tanks prior to his introduction to the inmates of the garden pond come April.
Busy doing nothing; I did, in the course of the week manage a couple of visits down to ‘Open Church’ (for Fairtrade coffee and a chat) and, took my beloved out for a meal at The Park on Thursday. Each of these outings would have been unimaginable just one year ago, so I’ve no cause for complaint. All in all, I feel like a most privileged person; to be loved by, and be in love with, ma belle amoureuse, to have food in my belly, a roof over my head, and a warm fire to sit by.
Take nothing and no-one for granted, just take each day as it comes and, in everything give thanks.
I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made!
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
A Sequel
The sequel to 'A Weekend Venture', Sunshine, Fish and shocks that flesh is heir to
can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.
can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.
Monday, February 26, 2007
A Weekend Venture
Friday 23 February 2007
A slow start to the day, not much change there but, today’s going to be rather different from over three years of recent experience. A gentle sense of trepidation haunts the morning hours; the gardener arrives to carry out a few tasks and, I decide it’s time for a leisurely shower before I get dressed and set up for what the day has in store. Muscle, joint and glandular twinges were already in evidence as soon as the transformation from somnolence to wakefulness had occurred, so a peremptory dose of codeine phosphate and paracetamol was called for.
Another big adventure for yours truly is on the menu, as Helen packs the suitcases in the car, in preparation for our weekend excursion to Liverpool. On Sunday, Helen’s step-mum will be celebrating her entry into the octogenarian stakes; come to think of it, in a mere 17 years and 4 months I too could be entitled to enter those same stakes.
As we venture out across, and beyond, the Yorkshire Dales, the sun smiles on us and them; we are both truly captivated by Yorkshires wonderful rolling and rounded hills populated by sheep, in both the wilder moorlands and more verdant territory. For all that I appreciate the scenery, the journey seems in some sense to be a kind of endurance test. Questions roll through my mind, about how I’m going to cope, both with the journey and being away from home for a few days. More importantly, are my spastic colon and temperamental bladder going to behave themselves?
We choose to travel a more roundabout route as, neither ma belle chauffeuse nor myself are over enamoured of the main (M62) motorway route. More than half of our journey is travelled along ‘A’ roads before we venture into Motorway territory, with rapid switches between M6, M58, M57 and the tail end of the M62 into Liverpool. Only a couple of stops are made en-route, to stretch ones limbs, unpack and devour the sandwiches, quick nicotine fix pour moi. And, of course, my bladder screams out for relief, partly from a slight sense of panic but largely owing to a rather disordered processing and retention facility.
In total, the outward journey takes about 3 ½ hours by the time we reach Kathleen’s (Helens’ step-mum) to say Hi and partake of a nice cuppa and a cookie. After this brief respite, we head for the Innkeepers Lodge (Liverpool South) where we’ll be spending the next three nights. With my lack of travelling experience, over recent years, it’s a remarkable sense of achievement that overwhelms me on arrival. Take stock: I’ve arrived at my destination, almost panic free and with scarcely more than my usual quota of sundry aches and pains; even the disorientation is less than I’d anticipated.
Once we’ve moved our baggage into the room, and rested a wee while, we venture across to the Toby Carvery. For some reason Carverys have never been a favourite dining place for me but, at least there was a warm Liverpudlian welcome and I felt it may be worth a try; truth be told, by this time, I was rather too de-energised to venture farther afield. My beloved ordered a mountainous plateful of salad, enriched with glazed ham and turkey, whilst I settled for the baked cod in cheese sauce. To accompany the cod, I helped myself to the generously buttered new potatoes, roast parsnips, broccoli and swede. Quite surprisingly, the roast parsnips proved an excellent companion to the baked cod. I avoided the roast potatoes as, having once tasted my very own recipe herbed and spiced roast potatoes all others are but warmed up crispy coated sludge.
Although I became quite disorientated, and feeling totally discomforted on being seated in the restaurant, I felt much more at ease once an adjacent table was vacated. I swiftly realized that a lot of my dis-ease had been very akin to claustrophobia.
**************************************************
Saturday 24th February
Awoke early this morning, having found it impossible to adjust to the rather worn out mattress in our room; no matter how much I needed sleep, a soggy sprung mattress somehow made me too well aware of the care worn spring coils. The fact that I had some weird dreams seemed to demonstrate that some time had been spent in the arms of Morpheus but, the overall nocturnal experience was of the sound of speeding motors, the sound of raucous chatter and laughter both internal and external to the Lodge where we are staying, and a distinctive unease with the provided sleeping apparatus.
Breakfast was a most satisfactory affair, a wide range of cereals, teas, croissants, and toasting bread as well as fresh fruit. The chocolate croissants were a special treat. Breakfast concluded, we headed back to our room for some necessary rest; this was to be discovery time as I realized that the bed was reasonably comfortable if one lay on top of the duvet so, perhaps that will be tonight’s routine, at least on my part.
Duly rested, we then walked over to visit Helen’s step-mum once more and, after a chat, I donned my troubleshooting mantle as Kathleen’s computer and printer have been causing a few problems of late. Once I’d upgraded and updated the antivirus, the attempt at problem solving was underway; no matter how tired I may feel I do enjoy the occasional technological challenge although, on this occasion, I can only admit to about 70% success.
Following a light lunch chez Kathleen, we headed back to the Lodge for another rest period…….
Rest was to be a keynote of the weekend, primarily from necessity, and a visit we planned to Tate Liverpool seemed too much to tackle. The afternoon was spent back in our room, Helen managing to catch up on some reading whilst I drifted in and out of snoozedom.
Come early evening, we ventured across the Aigburth Road to view the menus at the ‘Madhari’ and ‘Gulshan’ Indian restaurants. Though once a regular frequenter of such establishments, it’s several years since my last visit, frequently preferring my own unique blends of spices and herbs. The ‘Gulshan’ seemed like a rather upmarket large restaurant, fully Air-conditioned, and winner of several national curry house awards whereas the ‘Madhari’ was a much more domestic type of establishment, nothing poncy here just real quality food and, I quite enjoyed the Bollywood musical selection playing quietly in the background.
Our welcome at the Madhari couldn’t have been warmer, the warmth matched only by the cuisine; whilst Helen settled for the Chicken Shaslick, served sizzling hot from a trolley and accompanied with salad and pilau rice. My choice was a Mixed Tandoori Kohari which completely surpassed any expectations! We chose to have garlic Naan bread with the meal, not having realized how generous their portions of the main dish and the pilau rice would be. Whilst we waited for our meal, a good range of pickles and chutneys were supplied to sample together with the poppadums.
On return to our room, rest and relaxation was the order of the evening.
*****************************************
Sunday 25th February
Sunday was really the reason for our visit, a lunchtime and early afternoon celebration of Kathleen’s 80th Birthday, at Liverpool Cricket Club (one hundred yards down the road from where we were staying). In the morning I was thoroughly and achingly shattered and, I seriously started to wonder if I’d be up to attending the celebrations. By mid-day, I started to feel a little brighter; meantime, our daughters had popped in to see us and headed off back to the cricket club. Half-an-hour later, my beloved and I ventured along there too. All 58 0f the invited guests had turned up for the occasion, and I entered with a degree of anxiety, not having been able to attend any such social event for the past few years. At least I had the safety blanket of our accommodation being in such close proximity, had I not been able to cope. In the event, I enjoyed the buffet, my beloved selecting all the items she knew I would enjoy and, I even went on to enjoy the speeches and the musical entertainment provided by flute and keyboard, and arrangements for flute and guitar specially composed for the occasion; there is such an array of musical talent amongst Helen’s nephews and nieces. It reminded me of our wedding ceremony when Nichola (the flautist) and Matthew (keyboards and guitar) performed a jazz piece composed by Matthew for the occasion.
To my surprise, I coped admirably with the whole event. I rejoice in the fact that even six months ago it would have been impossible for me to have anticipated, the journey to Liverpool, the stay at the Inn or participating in such birthday celebrations. It’s amazing how often I am compelled to count my many blessings!
A slow start to the day, not much change there but, today’s going to be rather different from over three years of recent experience. A gentle sense of trepidation haunts the morning hours; the gardener arrives to carry out a few tasks and, I decide it’s time for a leisurely shower before I get dressed and set up for what the day has in store. Muscle, joint and glandular twinges were already in evidence as soon as the transformation from somnolence to wakefulness had occurred, so a peremptory dose of codeine phosphate and paracetamol was called for.
Another big adventure for yours truly is on the menu, as Helen packs the suitcases in the car, in preparation for our weekend excursion to Liverpool. On Sunday, Helen’s step-mum will be celebrating her entry into the octogenarian stakes; come to think of it, in a mere 17 years and 4 months I too could be entitled to enter those same stakes.
As we venture out across, and beyond, the Yorkshire Dales, the sun smiles on us and them; we are both truly captivated by Yorkshires wonderful rolling and rounded hills populated by sheep, in both the wilder moorlands and more verdant territory. For all that I appreciate the scenery, the journey seems in some sense to be a kind of endurance test. Questions roll through my mind, about how I’m going to cope, both with the journey and being away from home for a few days. More importantly, are my spastic colon and temperamental bladder going to behave themselves?
We choose to travel a more roundabout route as, neither ma belle chauffeuse nor myself are over enamoured of the main (M62) motorway route. More than half of our journey is travelled along ‘A’ roads before we venture into Motorway territory, with rapid switches between M6, M58, M57 and the tail end of the M62 into Liverpool. Only a couple of stops are made en-route, to stretch ones limbs, unpack and devour the sandwiches, quick nicotine fix pour moi. And, of course, my bladder screams out for relief, partly from a slight sense of panic but largely owing to a rather disordered processing and retention facility.
In total, the outward journey takes about 3 ½ hours by the time we reach Kathleen’s (Helens’ step-mum) to say Hi and partake of a nice cuppa and a cookie. After this brief respite, we head for the Innkeepers Lodge (Liverpool South) where we’ll be spending the next three nights. With my lack of travelling experience, over recent years, it’s a remarkable sense of achievement that overwhelms me on arrival. Take stock: I’ve arrived at my destination, almost panic free and with scarcely more than my usual quota of sundry aches and pains; even the disorientation is less than I’d anticipated.
Once we’ve moved our baggage into the room, and rested a wee while, we venture across to the Toby Carvery. For some reason Carverys have never been a favourite dining place for me but, at least there was a warm Liverpudlian welcome and I felt it may be worth a try; truth be told, by this time, I was rather too de-energised to venture farther afield. My beloved ordered a mountainous plateful of salad, enriched with glazed ham and turkey, whilst I settled for the baked cod in cheese sauce. To accompany the cod, I helped myself to the generously buttered new potatoes, roast parsnips, broccoli and swede. Quite surprisingly, the roast parsnips proved an excellent companion to the baked cod. I avoided the roast potatoes as, having once tasted my very own recipe herbed and spiced roast potatoes all others are but warmed up crispy coated sludge.
Although I became quite disorientated, and feeling totally discomforted on being seated in the restaurant, I felt much more at ease once an adjacent table was vacated. I swiftly realized that a lot of my dis-ease had been very akin to claustrophobia.
**************************************************
Saturday 24th February
Awoke early this morning, having found it impossible to adjust to the rather worn out mattress in our room; no matter how much I needed sleep, a soggy sprung mattress somehow made me too well aware of the care worn spring coils. The fact that I had some weird dreams seemed to demonstrate that some time had been spent in the arms of Morpheus but, the overall nocturnal experience was of the sound of speeding motors, the sound of raucous chatter and laughter both internal and external to the Lodge where we are staying, and a distinctive unease with the provided sleeping apparatus.
Breakfast was a most satisfactory affair, a wide range of cereals, teas, croissants, and toasting bread as well as fresh fruit. The chocolate croissants were a special treat. Breakfast concluded, we headed back to our room for some necessary rest; this was to be discovery time as I realized that the bed was reasonably comfortable if one lay on top of the duvet so, perhaps that will be tonight’s routine, at least on my part.
Duly rested, we then walked over to visit Helen’s step-mum once more and, after a chat, I donned my troubleshooting mantle as Kathleen’s computer and printer have been causing a few problems of late. Once I’d upgraded and updated the antivirus, the attempt at problem solving was underway; no matter how tired I may feel I do enjoy the occasional technological challenge although, on this occasion, I can only admit to about 70% success.
Following a light lunch chez Kathleen, we headed back to the Lodge for another rest period…….
Rest was to be a keynote of the weekend, primarily from necessity, and a visit we planned to Tate Liverpool seemed too much to tackle. The afternoon was spent back in our room, Helen managing to catch up on some reading whilst I drifted in and out of snoozedom.
Come early evening, we ventured across the Aigburth Road to view the menus at the ‘Madhari’ and ‘Gulshan’ Indian restaurants. Though once a regular frequenter of such establishments, it’s several years since my last visit, frequently preferring my own unique blends of spices and herbs. The ‘Gulshan’ seemed like a rather upmarket large restaurant, fully Air-conditioned, and winner of several national curry house awards whereas the ‘Madhari’ was a much more domestic type of establishment, nothing poncy here just real quality food and, I quite enjoyed the Bollywood musical selection playing quietly in the background.
Our welcome at the Madhari couldn’t have been warmer, the warmth matched only by the cuisine; whilst Helen settled for the Chicken Shaslick, served sizzling hot from a trolley and accompanied with salad and pilau rice. My choice was a Mixed Tandoori Kohari which completely surpassed any expectations! We chose to have garlic Naan bread with the meal, not having realized how generous their portions of the main dish and the pilau rice would be. Whilst we waited for our meal, a good range of pickles and chutneys were supplied to sample together with the poppadums.
On return to our room, rest and relaxation was the order of the evening.
*****************************************
Sunday 25th February
Sunday was really the reason for our visit, a lunchtime and early afternoon celebration of Kathleen’s 80th Birthday, at Liverpool Cricket Club (one hundred yards down the road from where we were staying). In the morning I was thoroughly and achingly shattered and, I seriously started to wonder if I’d be up to attending the celebrations. By mid-day, I started to feel a little brighter; meantime, our daughters had popped in to see us and headed off back to the cricket club. Half-an-hour later, my beloved and I ventured along there too. All 58 0f the invited guests had turned up for the occasion, and I entered with a degree of anxiety, not having been able to attend any such social event for the past few years. At least I had the safety blanket of our accommodation being in such close proximity, had I not been able to cope. In the event, I enjoyed the buffet, my beloved selecting all the items she knew I would enjoy and, I even went on to enjoy the speeches and the musical entertainment provided by flute and keyboard, and arrangements for flute and guitar specially composed for the occasion; there is such an array of musical talent amongst Helen’s nephews and nieces. It reminded me of our wedding ceremony when Nichola (the flautist) and Matthew (keyboards and guitar) performed a jazz piece composed by Matthew for the occasion.
To my surprise, I coped admirably with the whole event. I rejoice in the fact that even six months ago it would have been impossible for me to have anticipated, the journey to Liverpool, the stay at the Inn or participating in such birthday celebrations. It’s amazing how often I am compelled to count my many blessings!
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