New Year's Eve

started bright and early here. I didn't get the long lie-in I was after. Two reasons: 1) I woke myself coughing and couldn't stop and 2) I have 24 people coming for eats/drinks/whatever tonight and I now have to go get an MRI scan at noon.

Went for the MRI on Monday evening as previously directed only to find the scanner was BROKEN. I was told I'd wait at least another 3 weeks for a new appointment, but Lo and Behold yesterday they call and say go today. At least I get to finally start the PA (psoriatic arthritis) treatment after this.

My New Year's Eve 'At Home', (don't call it a party as WH hates parties) should be renamed 'gathering for those recovering from the bug' as every single person has had it and the phone lines have been hot with people checking that if they come they wouldn't infect anyone. Never have people been so courteous but given the nature of the disgusting germ round here, you wouldn't wish it on your own worst enemy.

So tonight we party and celebrate the back of a year that has been fairly rubbish and not much improvement on the previous one and that not only had a couple of bereavements but a murder trial as well. Hopefully 2009 will be much improved. As of this week the kitchen is all but finished, the driveway and front is too and that only leaves 2 bathrooms, the utility, cloakroom and a back garden to plan. Sounds quite a list but believe you me it's small beer compared with what WH has achieved in the rest of the house.

I'm really looking forward to 2009, it's almost 2 years since I first set foot in this house and I'd really like to be able to relax and enjoy it. I'd like WH to be able to too and rid himself of this awful depression, which I am assured has very little to do with the house but even so it would be a big relief.

So cheers here's to 2009 and a Happy NEW Year.

We wish you a Merry Christmas

A very quick post in here to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas (I will def be right behind you on this one) and a hope 2009 is better for everyone too.

I'll be hoping for peace, love and understanding in my stocking as life with a possible bi-polar depressive is eventful to say the least and extremely stressful too. If I can survive the festive period and catering for seemingly half of Great Britain in what looks like an Afghan Field Kitchen I will will bestow up myself a Lifetime Achievement Award with a box of Hotel Chocolate's finest, won by dint of a relative suddenly informing me she's allergic to chocolate and has been for years so a substitute present had to be brought on p.d.q.

A final word to all you long suffering Better Halves out there, never EVER believe a builder or Worst Half when he says just a couple more days and it will be all done. Christmas dinner, if we ever get to cook any, will be spent in the field kitchen but only after all the guests have managed to scramble over the 6 foot hole outside the front door or battled through a pile of rubble and a utility with no walls. They have been warned.

Cheers. Hic!

An early Christmas present

Those wild boys from Deer Lick Holler have been busy and given us not one but two new freely download-able tracks as a gift for Christmas. Kind of makes up for the fact that they have not toured this autumn, after 8 years solid gigging they did reserve a rest. Barley Scotch aka John Wheeler was supposed to be doing a solo tour of 'songs and standup', a reprise of his appearance at this year's Edinburgh Festival, however the deepening financial crisis and lack of ticket sales have forced him to cancel.

So mosey on down to their 'Tasting Room' and have a listen now. Hey, even download them if you really like them.

It's that sort of week

and it's only Monday.

Last week I had a fatal error on my pc. It lost all my files. Nothing left, zilch, nada, zero. OK most stuff was backed up but not the VAT I had been working on for days. Today I rang my friendly neighbourhood PC Repair Man, actually my boss in a previous life. He couldn't save it either. So that was disaster number one. Moral of the tale back up your stuff daily. I just ordered an external hard drive to do it automatically now.

Number 2 problem is the washing machine has just packed up, sounds like the pump. It stayed full of water so I propped it up on bricks (of which I have a plentiful supply) and drained it out by gravity. Problem 3 occurred putting it all back. I leaned over and heard a distinct crack. A dull pain in my side ever since confirms my suspicions, another broken rib, sixth in 4 years. Ouch.

The washing machine is only 16 months old but in the move I forgot to renew my maintenance cover. I called up to check. What a joke, 'We'll only charge you £150 but this does include a FREE warranty for 12 months.' The whole machine only cost about £240. I called the local parts supplier, 'New pump? Off the shelf for that model, just come and collect it. Price? £14.99. ' So WH will be fitting that then.

Problem 4, not a problem really, more like a whinge, but the floor layers who were due at 2 just turned up now, at 5.15 so now I've got to spend half the evening glued in the living room which has the entire contents of the kitchen in. And WH will be home late; he has to go and pay for his skiing trip. So that will be me putting all the kitchen back at 9pm then. That's if they do lay the floor. Apparently this super high tech underlay we have just might need another type of glue. In which case they'll have to come back. One day in this mess is enough, I don't need any more, let alone the stink of 30 square meters of acrylic glue.

So that's just Monday, I wonder what else this week has in store, the looming MRI on my hands perhaps?

The NHS lets me down again

Two weeks ago I saw a new Rheumatologist, new to me but not new 'in post'. WH had seen this chap once and we were both impressed with his approach, study ALL the notes, ask endless, seemingly unrelated, questions, quick-fire fashion all whilst his brain was processing the information at lightening speed. As it happened, he didn't think WH's problem fit his diagnostic criteria and recent events have confirmed that. I was thus prepared to be dazzled with the speed of a clever doctor's mind working overtime for me and overwhelmed by having to answer and hundred questions at once. I was also apprehensive that he would, like his colleagues dismiss me as another, over worrying 50-something.

Disarmingly he greeted me with a smile and with the words that he had studied my entire medical history and had noticed a large number of random ailments which he thought just might be connected. He said I had previously seen all the Rheumatologists in the district and now maybe I should get some answers. He proceeded to outline my collection of symptoms, starting at age 12 and a problem with my wrist, through sacro-iliac problems following being hit with a hockey ball the following year until he reached recent matters with my hands and feet, via skin rashes, allergies and the myriad investigations of the typical heart-sink patient. He then examined me and again surprised me by seemingly ignoring my hands other than a cursory glance and paying far more attention to my arm (long standing rash) and my feet which he poked and prodded and caused more pain then I have ever had in them and that's saying something. He asked me about cortisone I had had in my hands, shoulders and feet and got me generally confused and reduced to a gibbering wreck as I tried to answer him succinctly and quickly. After all, who can remember the precise date they had an injection in the sole of the foot, the pain, yes, but the month, possibly, the year probably. And so it went on. He told me to get dressed and then shouted from the other room to ask if I had ever had anything wrong with my scalp. I had, I have right now. He rushed back in and stroked all over my head, with a gentle version of an Indian head massage. 'Very extensive' was his only comment.

Returning to the office fully dressed, he appeared to be surfing the internet. I sat and waited. Finally he asked me about my family if anyone had arthritis - all except my mother, or psoriasis - my sister, my cousin. He then delivered his verdict. I have probably had psoriasis most of my life and now have full blown Psoriatic Arthritis. He described in detail symptoms I had which no doctor has ever made much of, the rash I can feel but is invisible, the joints which feel like they will burst, the itch I have had for upwards of 10 years but which will not go away, the sores I had on my head and which lead to long term bullying at school. My miraculous recovery last year was due to 2 things, the eradication of the Lyme bug from my system and the fact that the Lyme treatment is an old fashioned treatment for arthritis. A classic case of killing two birds with one stone, or in this case two illnesses with the same treatment. Which is why the arthritis and psoriasis have returned to fight another day but the Lyme symptoms have not. My previous diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis was similar but he felt only part of the picture.

He wrote me 3 prescriptions there and then and I had 4 x-rays, some blood taken and have to have a full bone scan and a MRI of my hands. 'About the only two tests you don't appear to have had already,' he joked. After the scans I can take some of the heavy duty stuff he has prescribed but for now I have pain killers which work (makes a change) and some weird cream made from chili peppers which magic the pain away in minutes. I have to be careful where I put that stuff though!

He smiled, was gentle and caring. I liked him, I trusted him, even more so when he said he has relatives with the same complaint. His aim is for me to be pain free in the long term and significantly better in a couple of months. After all he said you've seen enough people who had missed it, it's about time I had some treatment.

So once again I have been failed by the NHS and their cost cutting, time saving piece meal approach to patient care. When someone took the trouble to view me holistically and look at all the information instead of a tiny part the answer was staring him in the face and probably had been for 40 years.

Blue is the colour

This is the colour of my new worktop. Looks much better in real life. Already I love it. The kitchen is finally taking shape, all those ideas which have been swirling round in my head for the last 18 months are finally coming to life. The depressed painter has almost done and we now have an alcove the exact colour of the worktop with the painting hanging on it from which the whole room took inspiration. It's a gouache of a Greek courtyard with blue and white walls, some steps and a vibrant fuchsia coloured bougainvillea, against a brilliant blue sky. When the sun shines and the whole room fills with light and warmth you can almost smell the thyme. Even in this extremely cold and frosty weather, this south-facing space fills with sun and is going to be a great place to sit.

Most of the cupboards are now in and on Monday the floor-layers come to finally put down the proper flooring after months of walking about on a mix of wood concrete and offcuts of carpet. After that we get the peninsular units in and then it's on to the last lap, tiling and a few decorative bits and pieces. I do hope it all goes smoothly, we have about ten people coming for Christmas day and I need a proper working kitchen, not the building site I've been living in until now!

Mind the gap

Mind the gap? Yes I flippin' do.

Anyone who is any good at fixing blogger template problems please listen up......

I've got a horrendous gap in my sidebar, don't laugh now please, and it just appeared overnight. And now it won't go away. Whatever. Never. I hate it.

If anyone has any ideas how to fix this I'm all ears. It's driving me nuts and every time I look at it, it makes me more mad. I'm probably just obsessing because there is so much going on around here right now, talk about juggling, I'm juggling everyone else's stuff too and they all ran away and left me with the balls. Or rather no balls at all, I'm stressed right out.

It isn't even Christmas yet, that's the least of my worries thanks to the good old 'net', all my shopping 's been done online, even the food.

So back to the original topic, I know I'm rambling, my brain's turning to spagetti. Any ideas how to get rid of this stupid gap will be extremely welcome.

Thank you.

The smallest ones are the most aggravating

The greys are more settled now. Never having lived anywhere with central hating until now, they have finally realised that the radiators are not going to jump off the wall and chase them, the odd little noises they make usually indicate that they are getting warm and that sitting on a window cill above a warm radiator is treat worth being brave for.

Usually in the day time they are together more often than not and now the weather has turned colder they stay indoors. Last week they were on the sofa and around the living room. This week they are on my bed, the living room having been moved round yet again awaiting the impending delivery of the fireplace.

So here they are, together but apart, as always. Misty at the back has his customary little sly look, as though he is wondering what to do next, watching me taking the photos as Nelson begins to snuggle down for a snooze after a long leisurely wash. Misty is always on the go, nervous as a tick, waiting for the moment to do some damage, play with something or just plain be his annoying self. Nelson has a new peace about him and is calmer now, life after Goggins has altered the dynamic and he revels in not being bullied and in the much larger house to lose himself in.

(Misty Back, Nelson Front)

Not for long though. Misty waits for me to finish the pics then he pounces, biting Nelson's ears and trying to dislodge him from the warm bed. Nelson however is developing a whole new temperament too, he feels more secure now and so for once he gets the better of his smaller, more fiesty brother. A swift smack on the nose has Misty scurrying, beaten, down the stairs and the bang of the cat flap tells us he has gone off in a huff. Looking through the front window I can see he is already out in the road on the trail of the Skankies six houses down. Now those miserable cats he can always beat. This new bold brother of his has finally got his measure and it's all becoming a bit hard to take.

(Misty Front, Nelson Back)

Even as I write the end of this Misty has returned and tried again, the Skankies couldn't have been out to play. Nelson refuses to budge and so the bored little Misty goes into the back room and beats hell out of the growing pile of christmas presents instead.

Happy Holidays

It's Thanksgiving over the pond tomorrow, the official start of the 'Holiday' Season. In honour of this and as an early Christmas present to those of us here, those ever busy Hayseed boys have given us two previously unrecorded tracks as a thank you to all of us for supporting them over 8 long years of continuous gigging.

You can download them and as the man says 'spread them around' from here. Send them to your mates and educate them as to the true nature of Rockgrass. My fave has to be Father Christmas, a revival of an old Kinks track written well before the days of Asbos but as my fellow Hayseed fan Stellalover says, it sums up an Asbo Christmas perfectly. I think it has a touch of the Pogues about it too. It would make a great Christmas single and here they are giving it away for free. Thanks guys.

All planted out

Not my new garden unfortunately, for we are still awaiting the arrival of the ground-workers who have been coming 'next week' since August and even set definite dates and times three times but have variously been rained off or prevented from coming here by having to do remedial work for flash flood emergencies. So yesterday I gave up thinking my garden will ever have top soil and rushed out and bought even more big blue tubs and thus today it was that I planted 200 assorted bulbs into said tubs. Next year I will have flowers in my garden, they just wont be in the ground but in 30-odd varieties of blue frost free planters which are lining up along the patio like rows of little blue soldiers.

The other side of the (half built, brickies were rained off too)steps are serried ranks of herbaceous perennials looking very straggly and died down but which are actually humungous plants which will easily split into 2 or three pieces when they are finally released. These were scooped from my local National Trust garden the last couple of weeks.

I went on the Saturday to go to their annual Craft Fair and made a detour on the way out to check the sale area of the garden shop. Oh my! What delights awaited there. All these perennials, some quite unusual which had been marked down to 50p or £1 from a previous price of between £6 and £8. I hastily grabbed a dozen of the most obvious things to jump up at me and hastened home. I returned the following week with my Best Friend and bought another 16. Total outlay for 28 plants, £22. Result. Amongst these were a small tree, Eucryphia Lucida 'Pink Cloud' £1, a False Lily of the Valley, Maianthemum canadense 50p and a Lobster Claw, Clianthus puniceus 50p. If even one of these grows I'll have had my money's worth. Two hostas £1 each were bigger than some of the ones I have had in pots for 12 months pending this move. The jewel in the crown must be however, this one ,Anemone riparia, a North American native also known as the Tall Anemone.

If she survives, all this garden aggro will have been worth it. Now I just need that top soil to plant her in.

Nice to see you

Been awol awhile. Not my fault exactly but the last few days I've had a horrendous problem with my ISP and finally tracked it down to a problem at my local telephone exchange. This afternoon it was fixed in the good old fashioned way by a man actually going there apparently. I didn't know they did that anymore.

So now I'm back online but not through my AOL software which still continues to give us grief. I asked for my MAC numbers 3 days ago to migrate elsewhere, more a threat than a real commitment. Now today I receive a bargain deal from Sky drop through my letter box, less than a sixth of my current monthly charge and free calls too. Wonder if it is too good to miss?? I might just see after 6 months of hassle with AOL's unreliable service. I thought it was poor in the old house, since the move it's been 10 times worse. 8 years ago it was brilliant, I recommended them to everyone and argued with several. Now I'm beginning to change my mind.

Check out Durty Dan

Kitchen Crazy

After two whole weeks of seeing, breathing, reading and almost eating kitchen designs, diagrams, pc screens, mock-ups, plans and long hours in boring showrooms we finally decided on a kitchen last Wednesday. What is more, they delivered it on Friday. So there it sits in the alcove all wrapped in cerise shrink wrap waiting to be taken out and fitted. I spent almost all of Thursday on the net and the phone ordering appliances. Just the worktops to get now. That will be the easiest, it was the only element that WH and I agreed instantly on, we both fell in love at the same moment, casting out our vow not to have anything too quirky. So the worktops will be blue granite, quite a bright blue. Just have to get on the blower and order them tomorrow, our supplier conveniently having stock check days yesterday and Friday so not able to take orders.

The alcove though will remain an alcove. Because the overall space is large, over 6m square and has some structural features which we had to keep, it was difficult to get a cohesive layout that encompassed the entire area. One side of the room will be the dining area wherein lies said alcove. Having seen what effect the cerise wrap has had on the whole space we're now thinking sideboard. Old fashioned in name, our ideal is anything but. We're thinking something on the lines of the one above but in blue, bright blue. Oooh I want to order it now.

Just another little tune.

I first heard this at a Hayseed Dixie gig in Exeter a few years ago. Not one of theirs but it was being played over the pa before hand, Dave Bennett's choice perhaps?

Anyway have a giggle and try to ignore the pictures, hopefully not representative of what's in my fridge.

Welcome to the house of fun

OK, OK, I know the subject matter of this is not really relevant but the title sure sums my life up pretty well at the moment and as for the name of the band, Madness, that definitely says it all.

Nuff said.

Going out

I still don't seem to have much time to come here these days. Maybe it has something to do with WH being home all day after his shoulder op, two weeks ago. And then again maybe it has something to do with WH being in the throws of a real bad depression, so much so I'm not really sure how to cope any more. I've ordered loads of reading material from the net but of course it hasn't actually arrived just yet.

He's stopped taking all his meds as well which doesn't help and failed to appraise his GP of that fact at his most recent appointment. The GP is, however, writing a strongly worded letter to the local health authority as he is STILL awaiting a consultant's appointment that he was referred for in late January. Waiting list? They must have fiddled his entry on that one, it's now more like 40 weeks not 13.

Actually the real reason I've not been here is I've been out quite a lot, I need to get out on my own or I'd be going mental too. Today I braved the nearest IKEA, still some 70 miles away, and bought the last of a line of bookcase/dresser type things that will adorn the whole of one wall in the living room. I just have to put it together. I'm quite proud of my living room, all the flat-pack was assembled by my own fair hands. It took me ages and I'm doubtless much slower than a normal person but I quite enjoy doing it. Years ago I did all the bedroom furniture too and I must have a reasonable technique aided by extensive use of woodworking glue which never comes with the stuff but which I always use, but none of it has ever even thought about falling apart.

So tomorrow I've got a real treat. Assemble the latest cupboard then retrieve the last of my studio pottery collection from the old garage and arrange in said cupboard. Now that I will stay in for.

Settling in - part 2

Read part 1 here.

After the first few days of nervous exploration the family settled to it's new home fairly well. Goggins stayed near the house at all times, so long as he was fed and could find WH he was happy.

The grey twins quickly took over the neighbourhood like a pair of seasoned pros. Opening the garage door each afternoon in order to take out the hosepipe to water the pots of plants along the front wall, I would be followed by the grey pair who would shoot out onto the crown of the road and look up and down to ensure no other cats were lurking in the undergrowth. They roamed up and down the road together, sniffing out all the cars and checking neighbours gardens for rivals. They seemed to be saying 'Right lads let's be having you if you want a good scrap'. Of course in reality, if another cat did appear they scarpered back indoors or came up close to me. They did have a few skirmishes with a group we named the Skankies, poor bedraggled, underfed little scraps and to whose owner I would normally have returned them immediately after they riffled the bins and black bags for anything remotely edible. In essence these are hungry cats and good scavengers. I steered clear of the owners however, having heard their reputation and of the abuse previous complainants had received from them.

Misty as the more adventurous twin had a few test hisses and headbutts but Nelson kept his distance.

One cat they didn't like however was Josephine, sister of Napoleon, a stray who had moved in round at the other house. At the height of our wrangles with his owner we were told that 'his sister 'never strays'. Closer questioning revealed that of course Josephine wasn't his REAL sister, just the other household cat. Well now she does stray into our utility room, she wrecks our bin bags and pinches the grey's food. Naturally they chase her off at every opportunity.

Eventually they started to wander more. Misty has just extended his territory, returning the open space round at the other house and checking all points in between. Nelson sometimes goes with him. When he does they often come back together. When they don't and Misty slips home unnoticed, Nelson forgets where to go and panics. Several times a week, we were losing Nelson and we had to search him out. He was always in the same place on the doorstep of the old house. he shrieked and cried when he saw us but by then worked up into a nervous frenzy as only he can get, he proves difficult to catch and then won't follow us. Several times I have had to carry him home. Once I put him in the car and drove the 200 metres whilst he screamed and cried in the back. He hid for 3 days after that so I wont be repeating the the performance. Sometimes Misty will accompany when I go to fetch Nelson and because of that I discovered one reason for Nelson not coming home. he is afraid of a large ginger tom in the road and alley between the two houses. Misty doesn't even entertain the idea of fear. the ginger tom was stalking Misty from underneath a van the day I saw him. Misty just charged up to him, drawing him out hissing and spitting. Misty headbutted him straight between the eyes, spat and swiped him with a tiny paw. the ginger cat looked astonished and turned to follow us as we passed with a look of ' What the hell was that?' before retreating deep under the van. Now we have to walk Nelson round the long way as he wont go into that road at all, when I carried him once he freaked and cried and struggled, wrestled free and ran off.

A week into living here Goggins disappeared. He too was round at the other house and thus began three weeks of WH each morning at half past seven driving the van round, picking up Goggins in the van and driving him back before he went off to work. Goggins loved the van, he was high up and could see everything. He hated being caged in the car but sitting up on the front seat of the van he seemed to be waving like the Queen, 'Look at me with my own personal driver'. By the last few days he would wait for WH on the corner of the road as though for a bus. even with raging pneumonia he went there every night and stayed. Only the couple of days before he died did he stay home here.

Now Goggins has gone Misty has taken over as WH's personal minder and bodyguard. He sleeps with him and curls up on the sofa with him, following him everywhere in the house. Nelson too has become much more affectionate with WH and more erelaxed. Obviously Goggins, though an old man was till top cat and they deferred to him. Now they are both much more relaxed, other than the time we put a new door on the kitchen.

Originally our kitchen gave out into the utility and there was cat flap on the outside door. As it has become cooler and we still had no heating we put an internal door on the kitchen to keep out the draught from the unfinished utility. For the plan to work however we needed a second cat flap so we could keep the door shut. WH installed the same model as in the outside door but Nelson got confused. He thought his cat flap had moved and he was trapped. It took 4 days for him to get used to it and even then he shot through like rocket in case it grabbed his tail. Misty uses it but doesn't like it and has developed an elaborate ritual of tapping it loudly several times to announce the fact he is coming through. It did seem rather loud so as it as an internal door, WH removed the magnetic edging that seemed to be the cause of the noise. That only made things worse as the slightest breeze caused it to whine like a horror film ghost. Nelson wouldn't use it at all by then preferring to 'ask' us to open the patio doors for him. Eventually after a few days of that charade we replaced the magnet and just left them to it.

Lately Nelson has taken to sitting on the fence in the sun and on top of a pile of paving slabs. He is becoming more aggressive with next door's ginger wimp who disappears at the flash of an eye or a brief hiss. Nelson is becoming more in control. Misty is in control. He keeps an eye on the Skankies and Josephine and has made friends with an elderly major at the top of the road. He visits him in his front garden and sits in the sun on his doorstep. The major is delighted. We however know differently, his real purpose is to stalk the green woodpeckers who frequent the major's garden. So far they have the upper hand, but only time will tell.

So much to do, so little time

It's been hectic round here, mainly because loads of things in the house are now taking shape. By this weekend we will have heating. That will be very welcome. We might also (weather permitting) have a finished patio and garden wall so no longer will we be trailing tons of red sand through the house. Tonight the electrician is coming to fit the fire alarms too, nice not have to look at the bare wires which have been poking through the ceilings for about 8 months now.

Our trip to the Lovely Lyme Doc last week was good. We took the Depressed Painter and he spent the afternoon taking photos of the town centre whist we sat in the consulting rooms. I have been 'discharged' as far as Lyme goes. No more treatment. I just have to get the RA sorted now. It looks like I am stuck with that but then it does run in my family so it may not be Lyme related at all though we suspect the Lyme triggered it.

WH was not so fortunate, he most probably has been bitten at some stage as he has a number of systemic problems which so far the NHS has not addressed or investigated the cause of. He has only ever been treated for the symptoms. (Sound familiar?) So in a weeks time he starts the antibiotic treatment to see if it makes a difference. He's doing it for 3 or 4 months to see what happens. He can't lose anything and he may well gain a lot. Watch this space.

Last week too WH had the dreaded shoulder decompression which so far has been relatively pain free although stopping him from over-using his right arm is more problematic. The only real downside is his depression is worse, he's totally lethargic 50% of the time and very agressive the rest. Even the Grandkids yesterday, playing I-Spy in the car, suggested 'MD' for Miserable Granddad. I seem to be referee most of time in the constant battle between WH and the rest of the world.

Me? I just keep smiling, doing far too much and trying to be 'infant teacher' bright and jolly at all times. Only when I sit here at the desk letting my mind wander do I let my my pasted-on grin slip and wonder if it is all worth it.

Statins again

Picture courtesy of the Alliance for Human Research Protection

I have been overwhelmed by the information sent to me about the problems with statins. Thank you to all the people who did refer me to the right places. Thank you too to my net-friend who has always counselled about their over-promotion and extreme side effects, the inclination for that person to say a big 'I told you so' has so far been ignored and I am grateful for that.

What I have learned though is that these days we can't take anything our medics tell us at face value. I'm not GP bashing here so I hope that NHSblogdoctor doesn't get all irate on me. Our front-line doctors are not specialists that's what they're called GENERAL Practitioners, they are only as good as the information they are given. If the government and Big Pharma is pushing a certain view it is easier and less time consuming to accept that 'wisdom'. I didn't initially think I needed to challenge the advice that WH was given either, and I didn't. Now I have I am shocked.

One piece of my research has really brought the message home. Just watching this was like looking at WH in the litle box, ignoring the northern accent and substituting a deep westcountry burr, is like watching WH in the little tv screen. It could be him up there reciting his experiences. So it looks like this statin problem really has come to haunt us.

It is a sad indictment of these times that patients with complex medical problems now have to research their treatments themselves to ensure that the drugs they are prescribed for 'their own good' are not the cause of much of their wider illness. The drug companies have a stranglehold over the governments, the medics and the public at large the world over and make obscene amounts of money by peddling their 'non cures'. The big question is, how the hell do we stop them?

Happy Birthday to me ?

yes, it's that day again when I turn another year older. I haven't had quite the day I expected but the second half has been pretty good, culminating in a tea party more reminiscent of a five year old's not a fifty something's. The only thing missing was the jelly.

I think from henceforth however, I'm going to ban all family celebrations, as for the last several WH has been ill each time. Today is no exception, he along with oldest step daughter appears to contracting a particularly nasty virus. With his shoulder surgery scheduled in less than a week, it looks like we may be in for a postponement. Sod's law again conspires against us. Maybe not such a good birthday after all.

Statins

I seem to have been really busy the last few days and having WH with a major relapse of depression hasn't helped. All this could have been avoided had he not revisited the statin problem. With statins he is verging on suicidal, without them his cholesterol rises to atomic levels due to his hereditary high cholesterol, he makes it as well as eats it! Of course when he's taking them the whole mood dampening thing kicks in and then he lives on junk food, refuses 'proper dinners' with veg and his level rises even further as soon as he stops them. They also appear to make him extremely tired which dampens the mood further. We've tried the healthy eating kick and the plant ester supplements but it's extremely dificult for someone who a) hates most veg with a vengeance b) detests yogurts and c) would live on meat alone if he could or in a pasty or some other type of pastry if he could get away with that.....It's doubly difficult when my cholesterol level is low to mid range and I exist almost entirely on veg and fruit.

Conversations, if that's what you have with someone who answers only in monosyllables, have been fraught but there do seem to be some alternatives out there without the dreaded statins. My GP said there were 'other choices' but did not elaborate, his says 'take statins or drop down dead', not much choice there then. Next move I think, if I can persuade, him is to seek advice at a higher level, presumably there is a consultant out there who specialises in this type of thorny problem. Until then, we both suffer the horrid side effects. I'm still at a loss to explain however why the GP would put him back on them given the fact he was suicidal on them before, his quality of life on them is rubbish so they're not exactly preserving him for much.

Yesterday he was like a new man, unbeknown to me he had dropped the pills for a few days. It took 3 days for the mood effects to go. Feeling confident that I DID notice the difference, he promptly took one again last night. Looks like I'm in for another crap weekend.

Yet another NHS rant....

Whoops they did it again..... and this time it's not anyone in this household but someone locally using the same GP practice and whose treatment, or rather non-treatment, has shocked us to the core.

About 2 years ago this lady pulled a muscle in her side moving something awkwardly in the stockroom at work. A few days rest with a couple of analgesics a day had failed to improve the dull ache she felt. Six weeks later and the pain was still there. her GP said it would take time to heal, these things always did. A whole year later she was still experiencing pain in the affected side. Still the GP recommended, gentle exercise and to stop thinking about it so much. Eighteen months later and the pain was worse, she became yet another heart-sink patient," keep on taking the pain killers; take your mind off it; maybe you're depressed, have some antidepressants" ad nauseum. A appointment with a second GP, the first being on holiday reinforced the 'non-treatment'. Maybe it WAS all in the mind.

Eight weeks ago when the pain at night was unbearable her husband said he'd had enough and took her to A&E. After a few blood tests and such like she was kept in and had an MRI scan. The next day she was informed that she had something seriously wrong internally, most likely cancer of the liver. The following week she underwent a liver biopsy and another scan. Four weeks later she was finally told they had lost the results and she must undergo another. Last week she was admitted again for the second biopsy. By now weak and quite poorly it was questionable whether she was fit enough to undergo it. She had yet another scan and more tests. The day of scan dawned and she was told early on that she wouldn't be having one. The doctor would be down later to speak to her about it. By then the family was distraught, finally in the late afternoon a junior doctor appeared and bluntly told her there was no point having any biopsies, the cancer had spread to the pancreas, was widespread throughout her system. She failed to take it all in and in case was not told the prognosis in layman's terms, her poor husband had to relay the 'simple' explanation, "He means it's too far gone, they can't do anything". Cue to go home, although it was suggested a couple of days in the hospice might 'help her sort herself out'. A planned course of chemotherapy at the local centre of excellence had been cancelled. 2It wouldn't do you any good". Home she went to face a bleak future, no sign of any additional treatments for the now numerous weakening symptoms.

This week the chemo team rang, "Where are you? You should have started treatment today". On being told that it was all cancelled as it would be pointless all that was rubbished, "Nonsense, we can make you feel more comfortable, deal with some of the symptoms and give you a bit longer with your family. She declined the opportunity unwilling to throw her hat in with the NHS any longer.

National Health SERVICE? If that's what they call service you can keep it.

The honeymoon is over - again

I've had my last GP for just under two years. I've always got on with her pretty well and she has been very supportive of my Lyme treatment within the confines of this practice. I wasn't too impressed that she hadn't spotted the problem with my foot last year, see here, here and here , but then neither did 2 other GPs and a nurse, but overall I'm as happy as anyone relying on the NHS can be. Until yesterday that is.

As I have blogged about recently my Lyme symptom free period has come to an end and I am awaiting a consult with my LLD (Lovely Lyme Doc). Obviously then I have some symptoms to consult about. My hands are like wood which are trying to curl up at the sides as well as along their length and which are very painful most of the time, my feet which are trying to do the same and are painful to walk on, and stiffness everywhere for at least 2 hours each morning and then periodically throughout the day. All in all symptoms of Lyme related Rheumatoid Arthritis. My weight loss has slowed right down too, but given that I am not so active and that Lyme tends to make you put on weight I wasn't too worried about that in the light of my 3 stone loss this year so far.

So, my suggested treatment to help me put up with this lot until I can kill a few more spirochaetes with the appropriate medicines? Go on, have a guess. Walking. A 30 minute brisk walk 5 times a week. It will help me lose weight and keep up the good work. I should examine my diet again too, to rev up the weight loss which of course will make me feel a whole lot better. My carpal tunnel syndrome which only appears when the RA is at it's worst will go because I will have lost weight around my wrists. No mention of the horrid lumps which have formed on the palms and the soles of my feet and which went shortly after beginning the original Lyme treatment. No mention of anything for the pain. And if I want to lose weight even faster perhaps I could come off the beta blockers which I have taken for over 10 years because of strange palpitations, valve anomalies and other Lyme related heart problems, it slows me down and makes me sluggish and stops me losing weight.

"How do I walk that much when I'm in agony?" I asked. Answer: Think of the good it's doing you. Walking is apparently much better for you than anything else including hard digging as it raises your heart rate and gets you breathless, you can work your arms too as you walk to increase the calorie uptake. Having done a lot of digging in the last week, (3 hours a day on 3 separate days admittedly interspersed by lots of little rests), I have been removing concrete from the patio, raking and wielding a pick axe then sorting flints and stones for a drainage bed, I realise I was wasting my time I should have been walking instead.

I relayed all this to WH tonight as he dug out part of the lawn for a flight of steps, with the pick axe on our extremely heavy clay. If the doctor can do this at this speed without losing her breath then she's in the wrong job" he retorted, "I do it for a living and I'm still knackered and out of breath".

What is it with these GPs? Are they now only trained in certain illnesses/problems as determined by the latest fads of Her Majesties Government? What happened to old fashioned medicine, compassion and seeking to help the patient? The Hippocratic oath states "I will keep them from harm and injustice", perhaps it no longer applies to todays doctors?

Settling in - part 1

We're a two cat family again since the demise of Goggins a few weeks back and the fur babies are finally settling down. I still think of them as kittens although they were six a couple of months ago. The house was very strange to them at first but now Misty is taking it well in his stride and Nelson is getting there slowly.

The day of the big move I was awol in Exeter whilst WH and mates did all the hard work. Firstly he caught up the three babes (we still had Goggins then) took them round the corner in the van and deposited them in his new bedroom which was all furnished and lovely and complete with their toys, other favourite things, food, water and litter tray he'd made from an upturned manhole cover. So far so good. He shut the door on them and the move commenced. So did the noise. All three started howling as only a cat can and kept it up for a good couple of hours. I'm glad I wasn't here. When all was done about noon, WH duly opened the bedroom door so that they could have a look round. Misty shot off and wasn't seen again, Nelson and Goggins had decamped to either side of the window cill and would not be prised off, not no way. No food had been eaten and the litter tray untouched.

And there they stayed until I got home at about 7pm. Misty was still missing though how he could have got outside was a mystery but then he's that sort of cat. I wasn't so convinced, I was sure he was holed up somewhere and just knew that when his stomach got the better of him he'd re-appear. The other two still stayed put too. Eventually I began to sort out my room and make up the bed, emptying bin bags full of clothes into drawers and all the while talking to myself in a very loud voice.

The scuffling started in the corner of the soon to be second bathroom behind a pile of mattresses, then a whimper, then an anguished cry. Finally a little face peeped out of the side of the pile and the hiding place was revealed. Misty had been there all along, not a metre from the door of the bedroom. Nelson stayed on the window cill but Goggins bravely followed WH downstairs, had a quick, manly cuddle, a mouthful or two of tuna and went out of the back door to explore the garden with WH, down the side of the house and back in via the front door. Piece of cake. He'd got his bearings and went in and out a few times quite happily. Being senile I suppose he forgot where he was and so long as he had WH in his surroundings he was OK.

We tried to feed Misty and Nelson their supper in the hall, hoping they'd come downstairs. They didn't. I took some smelly fish on to the landing and they still stayed put. Eventually we gave up worrying and went to bed. Once in the dark, they shot out of hiding and jumped on my bed, only to spend the entire night as close to my head as possible to make sure it was really me. About 2am they were joined by Goggins who had spent the intervening period walking up and down the landing looking for WH and not quite finding him. I was second choice so I had to do. Needless to say I had no sleep whatsoever although WH did his customary 'head-on-pillow, sleep-for-10-hours' trick. At six am I got up and was followed downstairs by two starving, grey cats. I fed them then let them out into the garden, going with them for a few minutes. Nelson shot back in, Misty shot off over the fence. Nelson retreated back to bed for safety. Later I spent a few minutes showing him where the cat flap was but he hated it, he'd rather go through the patio door. Goggins was fine, had a second breakfast and went to sit on his garden chair which we had thoughtfully moved to the new garden and placed in the sun for him.

At about 10 I thought I'd take some stuff to the other garage, I drove up, parked, and then my neighbour accosted me, just as Misty peered sheepishly out from behind a bush glaring at me and staring at the old house. I must have been on form that day as I quickly grabbed him, shoved him in the back of the car, covered him with an upturned box weighted down with another heavier one, and drove the 200 metres back to the new house. He was mad at me for doing that and kept up a stream of abuse even whilst I got him out and put him back in the kitchen. I gave him some fish to reinforce the fact he was now 'home' and he forgot his anger for the thirty seconds it took him to eat it. Since then he always returns. Now Nelson is the problem. He goes visiting his old haunts and can't remember his way back.

Meet the gang 'cos the boys are here........

We haven't seen many birds in this garden yet. Several reasons 1) it still looks like a building site and at any given time there is likely to be someone out there making a noise of some description 2) the bird feeding station WH had for his birthday was really put in the wrong place, in the centre of an open space backed by a neighbour's eucalyptus tree 3) the resident cats are still staking out their new territory and patrolling fences to repel any potential invaders and 4) there are not nearly so many big trees. Despite the fact we are only 150m as the crow (or any bird for that matter) flies from the old place it really is quite a different habitat to get used to.

Yesterday, however, I took advantage of the good weather to remove the timber mountain from the future lawn, move all my pots of stuff awaiting transplant and had a general tidy up. I had to leave the cement mixer as it is needed later this week but 7 builder's dustbins were moved to the yard along with bags of sand and enough tools to stock a shop. I also moved the feeding station adjacent to the apple trees, with a neighbour's buddleia and a laurustinus nearby for extra cover.

This morning large as life I had a small flock of about 15 long tailed tits casing the joint and sampling the menu. They hung around for about half an hour until a neighbour's cat (thankfully not one of mine) appeared over the fence and looked menacingly at them. I took that as my cue to frighten him off and so the birds went too although half a dozen were back again in less than 5 minutes joined by a couple of great tits and a coal tit. I'm hoping this will be the shape of things to come and that they liked the new restaurant and will bring their mates. I now just need to attract the flock of goldfinches which fly past several times a day but as yet have not seen the niger waiting for them and it will finally seem like home.

Barking Mad

Before I moved I was looking for peace and quiet and a calmer existence than I had in the other house. After 23 years behind a noisy estate, the last 12 of which having noisy dogs next door I thought I was due a little quiet. Well the old adage 'you never know what's round the corner' certainly rang true here. I sit writing this to the sound of a dog frantically barking and whining. This will probably go on all morning. I've started recording the dates and times and find it sometimes barks for 5 hours at a time.

A chat last weekend with my neighbour about this only elicited the response that she'd never heard it and it was 'only' because the dog, a Jack Russell, was caged when everyone is out of the house, the reason being it chews the furniture when it's alone. The problem which became apparent when we were building the extension has worsened, we thought it was due to strange noises and builders being around, we didn't realise it's ALWAYS like this.

My hands are now tied on all this, if I take further action, ie. involving the local council noise people I would have to declare this as an impediment to a sale should I wish to sell the house at a later stage, it's part of these new Home Information Packs. Seemingly I may as well talk to the dog as talk to the owner for all the good that did.

How do I get out of this one? Will my ears ever be free of barking dogs? This one is slowly driving me nuts, I can't think and I can't seem to escape it. Stressed out just doesn't begin to cover it.

So that's how they shorten the waiting lists

This is the diary of someone I know on a NHS waiting list.

Mid January: Patient goes to their GP and is referred to a speciality clinic.

February: An appointment is received for 9 March.

9 March: Patient turns up to the clinic and is told that they had been sent the wrong date by mistake; there was no one there to see them. A new appointment is made.

12 March: Patient attends first session at clinic which is basically filling in some forms and a brief 5 minute chat. An appointment is made for to begin a course of treatment in April.

April: The treatment clinic appointment is cancelled by telephone the day before it is due to take place because the patient has been referred to 'the wrong type of person'. A referral to another clinic will be made.

May: Patient calls up and asks why they had heard nothing. They are told that their referral letter has been lost and the clinic will have to ask the GP for another one.

Early June: GP calls the patient and says he has been asked to do another referral, do they still need it.

Mid June: Patient receives a letter for an appointment on 9th Sept .

Late June: Patient receives a phone call saying the appointment date on the letter was wrong and a new one would be sent. Receives another letter changing it to 10th Sept

9 Sept: Patient receives a phone call cancelling tomorow's appointment because the referral should have been sent to the Primary Care Trust and not the Community Health Team so the referral has to be made again.

NHS Choices has this to say about waiting lists:

Since 01 January 2006, no patient in England should have to wait more than 13 weeks from when they see their GP and the decision is made that a referral to a specialist is necessary, and their first outpatient appointment.

Well we know better don't we? This way, the patient gets off the waiting list and has to start again, best of all they receive no costly treatment so are saving the NHS money too. Wonderful isn't it? There is no involvement from any medically qualified staff at all, it can all be managed by pen pushers.

RESULT! A cost saving and a shorter waiting list to boot. And I thought that the NHS was here to treat us.

It's just a shame that NHSblogdoctor is still on holiday, he'd enjoy this one.

Lyme rears its ugly head again

Borrelia burgdorferi, the bacteria responsible for Lyme Disease; Nature,

International Weekly Journal of Science

I stopped taking the antibiotics prescribed by my Lovely Lyme Doctor (LLD) 5 months ago. After the side effects (extreme photo-sensitivity) wore off I felt brilliant. This continued for the next 16 weeks or so. I have done so much this summer that I never even dreamed about.

Now I have to report that a few of the Lyme symptoms are creeping back, notably the Rheumatoid Arthritis which is making life somewhat difficult now. As always it's my hands which are affected worst; on waking every morning my right hand is locked solid and I have prise open my fingers one by one. My left hand is stiff and feels like wood like the right one but at least my fingers do open albeit somewhat painfully. On a bad day I am now unable to use my right hand for much for about 3 hours, having very little movement or indeed grip. Dressing is a pain and recently we have had to resort to WH dressing me, not least because the Depressed Painter has been in residence and he arrives at the unearthly hour of 7.40am; confronted by a partially dressed me, he would be twenty times more embarrassed than me so I HAVE to get dressed. Dancing at the Hayseeds gig the other night had the effect of making both my hands swell up to Michelin proportions after which I had no real movement and certainly no grip, good job then that it wasn't me who had to drive our little party home.

Luckily the crushing tiredness isn't there (touches wood frantically) but I've had the odd bit of peripheral neuropathy and the dreaded crawling sensation across my right shoulder blade. My weight loss has come to a halt too (at 19kg or 3 stones) it's proving almost impossible to get back on track and I so wanted to lose a further 6kg or so before Christmas making it 4 stones in twelve months. I already have my eye on Monsoon's window!

So all this leads me to the conclusion that I will have to start the treatment again, those Borrelia bugs must have come out of hiding in my nervous system and be multiplying again. Got to stop them in their tracks. To this end I am awaiting an appointment with the LLD which neatly leads me to my next revelation. It seems that WH may have Lyme Disease too. He is now in a worse physical state than me with all the symptoms I had at my worst and then some. He is extremely poorly right now and struggles to carry on working. He had an NHS Lyme test a couple of weeks ago and as yet we have no results. For the mean time his GP has referred him to the LLD too. A double appointment (and a big bill) beckons but it will be worth it. I am still overall fitter than I was for the last 16 years, I just hope and pray that WH can improve as much too.

Net Friends

A few weeks ago we travelled north spent two evenings in the company of those Boys from Deer Lick Holler and also had the opportunity to spend some time with a couple of my closest friends. The amazing thing is that one of those, I had never met 'in the flesh' as it were until then. I have known this person almost 7 years here on the net and because of the distances involved and the fact that neither of us are particularly well we had never been able to engineer a meeting before.We originally met on an American run chat site specific to our ailments, or in my case the the 'wrong' diagnosis I was being treated for. Eventually Board Wars caused that site to disperse and we moved elsewhere to another American site. The same thing happened again, so we gave up the chat sites and contact each other directly now. The third member of our little group comes down here on holidays and we endeavour to meet up then, the last time being about 4 months ago. It was a lovely meeting, we all gabled away as though we had been around each other for ever. It felt comfortable and easy, not at all like being in the company of strangers, even the Worst Halves felt like they had known each other a while.

Tomorrow we travel to Bristol to see the band again and will meet up with other friends originally found here on the net. Wonderful to think that our paths would never have crossed had it not been for the internet.

On the last minute

As per usual everything is a mad rush again. My tenants finally move in on Wednesday and WH has just decided to a) change the immersion heater, b) empty out the loft and c) fix the smoke alarms which have been sitting in the kitchen for 5 weeks. Just when I need help to sort out the garden.

Last week I employed the services of a student to help me do my bit, but torrential rain the first 3 days ensured we achieved nothing. WH took the lad to work with him. On Thursday we finally got going and three hours after starting some serious work the lad decided he had a bad back and couldn't do any more digging. I sent him off on his own to cut the lawn and tidy up. Fifteen minutes later he arrived back said all was done and and tidied and he duly went home. Later I discover the lawn looks like it has been cut with a knife and fork, or maybe a goat has had random bites out of it, the few grass cuttings are still in the mower box in the garage and in any case the only bit that has been touched is in the centre. If anything it looks worse than before he started. So today after 2 nights of even more heavy rain I have to set to and get it looking pristine.

Meanwhile all is not well with the letting agent. This is my third agent and the beginning of the relationship looked promising. The manager certainly talked the talk, the adverts went out quickly and tenants were found on the first serious viewing. This was all 6 weeks ago. The paperwork was all to follow. Three weeks ago the terms and conditions arrived and we decided that as we are so close to the house we would manage the property ourselves. We awaited the contract. Two weeks ago I called the office and asked where it was, "Don't worry all the paperwork is coming together, loads of time yet." Last Monday I called again. No-one in the office at all this time so I left a voice-mail. No-one called back. I rang again on Thursday. "Oh it must have got lost in the post." Why did no-one return my (numerous) calls? " It's the school holidays, lots of people are on holiday and several were sick. No problem it can all be done today, I'll drop it off tonight." She didn't. The contract finally arrived on my doormat on Friday morning to the sound of a hastily driven off car. Several key points were wrong, names and address of the Landlord for a starters. A call to the office revealed the Manager was out, again. The secretary said she would sort it and I would be hand-delivered a new agreement on Friday night. I am still waiting.

Why is it that these firms are all very ready to talk up their service and to take your money but when it comes to actually doing anything they fall at the first hurdle? Their attention to detail is absolutely zero. All these systems are in place for instant messaging, voice-mails and good old fashioned secretaries still take messages but no one ever replies. The offices are run by brightly dressed 20-somethings who talk a lot and do bugger all else. No-one checks anything.

I just hope that on Tuesday the Lettings Manager will actually turn up to do the inventory and condition report but at £100 plus an hour I expect she will. Whether it will get typed correctly and delivered to me in time remains to be seen.

At least I am not still with the second agent I had. WH has been working in a property managed by them. They were given carte blanche in terms of the time scale, no one was due to move in for at least a month. Some of the job was tiling, so days were left for stuff to dry and other jobs fitted in between which ultimately gives a better end result and a smarter finish for the customer. By Friday there were a couple more days left to do and then the refurbishment was finished. The painter, returning the key to the letting office at the end of the week, casually asked if a tenant had been found yet. "Oh yes, we always had one, he moves in on Tuesday." We received a frantic phone call from the already stressed painter. Cue much swearing from WH who is now working over the Bank Holiday in order to complete by 8.30 on Tuesday morning.

And they call this property management?

Progress of sorts

Five weeks living in the new house and progress is slow. WH is working everywhere but here and when we do get all ready to start another part of the project someone moves the goal posts and we have to stop, regroup and take a different course of action. Mostly so far it's all been caused by the weather, the major blight over the whole episode so far. Just a few days of waking up here convinced us that our plan to forget installing the central heating boiler until late September/ early October would have to be scrapped. We need it now, temperatures in the kitchen are regularly less than 12 degrees C in the early morning. We also discovered that a lot of the plaster had still not dried out even though some of it was done late last winter. This has made the whole house feel damp and caused us to leave a couple of oil radiators on all night every night, a strategy which is finally paying off. The house of course had not been lived in for almost 3 years and had no regular heating for even longer so I suppose with all the wet weather we have had in this period it was bound to be feeling slightly chilly.

Tomorrow a major progress will be made, the hall and stairs are being plastered along with levelling the kitchen floor allowing us then to decorate within the next month. After that we can get the rest of the carpets down which will be wonderful as we can reclaim the space in the living room where they are currently being stored. They were supposed to have been kept at the shop until we needed them but the fitter had other ideas, it saved him a journey and about 20 minutes of his time, never mind the poor customers who will have been walking round them for 2 months!

Once this part is finished we will have a large part of the house completed and hopefully a reduction in the dust which I spend hours daily attacking. I have employed a student to do some digging in the garden and help get the foundations done for the patio but so far all he has done is go off to jobs with WH as it has been far to wet here to dig anything.

A little light went out today

Goggins

01.08.1991 - 14.08.2008

For his entire life he battled infections, cat flu and lung damage, today he lost his fight. He fought with all the local cats for no apparent reason, guarded anything he took a fancy to, drains, ladders, a space on the floor, a cardboard box he had for 6 years, his special chair and loved his playmate Twilight so much that he never really recovered from her sudden death 8 years ago. This photo was him in May after his last bout of pneumonia. Last week it came back with a vengeance. He was a cat with a real attitude problem who loved the brine out of the tuna tin, freshly cooked bacon and worshipped the ground Worst Half walked on. No longer will they have manly cuddles on the sofa and fall asleep together watching Bruce Willis. When I returned from a six week visit to New York he flew round he room he was so, so happy to see me. The little green chair he fiercely defended sits empty, the drain covers under the trees no longer diligently cleared of spiders and the greys no longer have anyone to smack them down and give them a swift bite when they misbehave.

We are now a 2 cat family for the first time in 17 years and oh boy it hurts like hell.

The start of a love affair

Coming to the end of yet another horrid, wet, English summer which in my book is the second which has beenmruined by all the problems we have had with this house move, I have to face that it's highly unlikely that I will be going to Greece again this year. The downturn in the building trade here means that WH has to work while he still has work and so has been unable to finish our new place. Having given up over 5 months last winter to the build, which with hindsight was a total waste of time given the vagaries of the weather (again) and his fellow workers who let us down in droves, his customers won't wait any longer. I don't mind this, after all he is earning when other local builders are not. What I do mind is having had no real taste of warm weather other then during Grandad's Holiday in late May. I am also missing Greece itself and our usual leisurely stays in the back of beyond places we both love.

My love affair with Greece began as a teenager. My required O' Level English reading, along with a million other kids, was My Family and Other Animals, Gerald Durrell's account of his family's sojourn in Corfu in the 1920's. I was instantly drawn to this strange sounding country where interesting wildlife abounded, the people were strange, views were magical and you were never more than a few miles from the sea. The descriptions of exotic plants which my father had planted in our garden and which we fussed over to keep alive in the English Midlands but which grew wild in Corfu fascinated me. In those days I didn't like the heat so wasn't really bothered on that score. I read and re-read that book a hundred times in my late teens and twenties.

It was not until I took up with WH that I actually got to go there. In 1994, the girls were whisked off by their mother to Ibiza for a fortnight giving only 2 hours notice to WH. He freaked as he had done the previous year when a similar thing had happened and so, like the previous year when he was advised by his GP, we decided to go away ourselves. His house would not seem so empty if we ourselves were not there either. In those days, pre-internet (for us anyway), we abandoned looking for cheap deals on Teletext and called the agent direct. We stood in WH's porch listening to the phone between us, WH did the talking. By then of course, I was sick and not able to walk far, the first holiday he was offered was in Paxos, a villa in the Olive groves up a steep hill. He declined. Further unsuitable offers were also turned down. Finally he was agreeing to one, from Birmingham later that week. By then I had tired of standing and was sitting on the bottom of the stairs unable to hear the 'other end'. Having given all his credit card details the call abruptly came to an end. WH was not over impressed but it was a holiday after all and a cheap one at that. "I don't know what the accommodation will be but they assure me it will be on the flat. Allocation on arrival or some such name, they tell you all the details when you land. Oh it's Corfu, don't know what that will be like". My heart leapt, I was finally going.

We went in late May in a heatwave. Our accommodation proved to be a 2 bedroom apartment in a block of 6 overlooking a meadow of wild flowers just off the centre of Roda. We also had a full sized kitchen, two bathrooms and a shower with a curtain, unheard of in those days. It was on the ground floor, had a terrace giving onto the field and which was planted with bright flowers amongst which lived a whole army of little lizards. In two minutes you could be on the beach; round the corner, down the main street of the old village, past the church, on past the old ladies sitting in a row of hard chairs along their house walls, past the kafenion with it's whiff of ouzo, strong coffee and cigarette smoke and the old men arguing outside and walk through a gap between two cafes, the sparkling water visible through the little alleyway. I loved it. We had a bakery on 'our' corner and we went every morning for bread and pastries, sugary, vanilla-ey and cinnamonney scents teasing our taste buds. In those days a loaf was 270 drachma, about 54 pence, a yardstick I still measure the prices with today, only now the currency is the Euro (Evro) and bread is more than 60 cents (lepta).

We didn't do much on that first trip, we were too much in awe of the place and money was tight. We did hire a car for a couple of days and WH began to hone his skills as a Greek driver. 14 years later he slots in effortlessly. We drove around and everywhere we went Cistus sunroses abounded along with fields of myriad wild flowers. Little churches sat on hillsides, old cottages with tumbledown roofs had yards full of geraniums planted in blue painted feta tins, old ladies in black followed herds of goats for miles on the roads in the hills, men carried bundles of sticks whilst riding side-saddle on dusty, sad looking donkeys, chickens flapped out of hedges. Taking a picture in Sinies village one mid morning the whole school of 14 children fell out in to the street and posed for camera unbidden, along with a tiny sandy puppy clutched by a waif like 6 year old with dark eyes and a coy smile, "Hello" they chanted, "English? Thank you" as if by rote. One of the most brilliant sights was on the road along the the sea front in Roda itself, a piece of waste ground next to a moped rental lot. There were a couple of scrubby trees and chickens pecked amongst the dirt and greenery underneath them, taking to the branches in the heat of the day. One day the place was transformed, the greenery had flowered to become a vibrant square of brilliant red poppies.

That was the week which really kindled the fire. We have returned to Corfu 6 times since together and WH even took the girls on an 18 to 30's holiday in Kavos on another occasion, just Dad and 3 teenage girls. Together we have always stayed in the north and love the quieter more laid back spots. We've also been all over Greece since some years going 3 times. We want to live there eventually but sadly probably not in Corfu. We love the quieter, totally Greek places now and somewhere sleepy on the mainland beckons, maybe somewhere in Pelion although that is getting quite touristy now, maybe on the Amvrakikos gulf, Amphilochia perhaps, where we once had a wonderful Sunday lunch and not a Brit in sight (or sound), maybe near Volos airport at Nea Anchialos, the centre of a growing wine region. Wherever we end up it will always be that first holiday to Corfu we will remember the most, the week that sowed the seeds of a dream.

Studying the natives

I have lived in this house all of 28 days. A few things have been achieved but I still have a rudimentary bathroom and a very basic kitchen, cooker, sink, dishwasher and 2 shelves. We are getting stuff done though, I have repaired almost single handedly a hole in the floor, put up shelves, cut down trees and cooked basic meals. WH has rewired, plumbed in, put up ceilings and generally fixed. Our neighbours find us fascinating with our pot garden, temporary parking space on the front lawn, garage full of tools and missing side gate and fencing. Not however as fascinating as we find them.

We only moved about 400 metres but this neighbourhood (should I say road?) is just soooo different. For a start we have more neighbours, there are 4 more houses and the residents are generally younger, have more kids and and all have driveways in front of the garages attached to their houses. My last abode was one of only 3 which had a front driveway, in my case attached to someone else's house but at the front all the same. Here because we all have front drives much more family life is evident to the casual observer. They also have far more vehicles here, all except 2 have at least 2 cars per house, a couple of houses have 4 cars. This raises the question where on earth do they park them? Mostly in the road, in the turning spaces and on the pavement. The whole place looks like a used car lot. And there's always someone polishing one, or mending one, or cleaning one or just plain admiring one.

EH?? Yes this last one, in fact all the afore-mentioned car-related activities along with a whole heap more are carried out by one of my more immediate neighbours on a daily basis. WHAT??????

I think this guy is a teacher. He's definitely a sad case. Married with one child, he's really in love with his car. He changes his car with extreme regularity we are told although we've only seen 2 in the 12 months we have owned this place. He has a day-van too but that's a whole other story. This guy, a sad, boring, extremely rude (well the way he talks to his wife is, he doesn't seem to speak to any other adult, EVER) cleans his car, hoovers it out, removes the seats and wheels to clean them of any hidden, lurking specks he missed the first time then polishes the whole thing with an electric polisher gadget until he can see his face in it. Every other day. Now the school holidays are in full swing he can spend all day every day doing it, not just the evenings. It's rained a part of most days except for about 4 in the last 28, and he still cleans his car. The polishing and shining are relentless. He must have something wrong with him surely. He appears to have no life away from his car, spending upwards of 6 hours a day on his driveway.

When he got this latest one, brand new about 5 weeks ago, he was still sitting in it at 11.30pm admiring it on the day it arrived. I know, I saw him as I left from a curtain hanging marathon and frightened myself to death as he had all the lights off and as I pulled off this drive I saw something move in his car in my headlights.

All the time this cleaning is going on his 3 year old child is told to stay indoors and behave. His dog is tied up lest it interrupts. He appears to be the main child-carer in the holidays, his wife going to work in the day-van early each day. I heard them arguing at 7 am one morning out in the street, and he told her categorically that she is NOT ALLOWED to drive his car YET, she changed gear too roughly and frightened him, let alone the damage she had done to his beloved gearbox.

Reading this you probably wonder if this guy is for real. Well yes he is and living in my road and teaching some hapless kids at a local school. God help his class. He's a real nutter but he's so, so interesting to observe, a psychiatrist would have a field day.

Ah, now I have a plan to fund my longed-for designer kitchen. Any psychiatrists out there want Bed and Breakfast and the opportunity of some fine behavioural studies? I'm taking bookings now!

Summer, what summer?

We went to a barbecue this afternoon. We sat under a gazebo in a back garden in coats, hats, long trousers and fleeces. Great food, drink and company but Oh, what about the weather?

It rained for 3 hours non stop including some extremely heavy downpours. By 7pm we were all frozen and so the party split. I came home and got straight in the shower and there I stayed for 30 minutes until I was warm again. If we had a bath just now I would have had a bath. I'm now dressed in thermal socks and a very large winter fleece top over my regular clothes.

I am reliably informed that the hottest temperatures of the year usually occur in this first week of August. Well where the flippin' heck are they? Our winter is long enough without it starting already.

What a difference a week makes

The weather is warmer, possibly heatwave stuff here, meaning I can almost be too hot when I have so much to do. Not a thing I'm used to saying.

Anyway, I now have a sink and some worktops. The main kitchen is still a work in progress but I can cook a reasonable meal now and it even looks half like a kitchen! I've also ordered a dishwasher as my hands have lost the battle between me and the all invading plaster dust, gloves don't help as it's everywhere, not just when you get wet, so after half a century on this planet, I get to enjoy what other people take for granted: my own dishwasher. I can't wait until Tuesday when it comes.

The rest of the house looks almost respectable except for the bathrooms. One is currently a store room and the other a disabled shower room but it's usable and with my super homemade temporary net curtains (amazing what you can do with 4 nails, a stapler and a length of net) and a few hooks screwed into odd holes in the wall it's quite functional too.

The depressed painter rang to see what progress had been made in the hall and was told not a lot. "Oh, still waiting for the plasterer are we?" Well no, actually we didn't even get that far, we still have no hall ceiling and WH is being somewhat tardy getting it put up. Maybe it was something to do with the garage fire door, he started that on Sunday night, abandoned it having lost his temper because the brickwork wasn't true and hasn't looked at it since, feeling an urgent need to do jobs for everyone else every evening so far this week. So no change there then.

The other bit of good news is that I finally have a tenant. The old house has been spring cleaned, the kitchen and one bedroom re-painted, new blinds and lights fitted, smoke detectors purchased and the garden manicured to perfection. Result 4 viewings in 3 days and one successful applicant. They move in next month and my bank account will be looking slightly healthier.

Tonight I can't move, 3 long evenings this week of gardening in the wilderness we call the back garden has given me aches in places I didn't know I had. We can see the whole garden now and the cats love it. I have a huge pile of cut down shrubs and stuff and it's been so hot it might be dry enough to burn over the weekend, otherwise I'll have to load it into the jalopy and take it to the local tip. Hand-weeding most of the original borders has unearthed some gems, seedling broom bushes, 2 Rosa glauca bushes, an Acanthus, which one I don't know, and a load of other stuff. Next week I can start making some flower beds.

As the painter said when he surveyed a large hole I had dug in the kitchen floor where an old pillar had to be removed, insulated and cemented over, "You couldn't have done this twelve months ago." No I couldn't, but now it seems the more I do the more I can. Great isn't it?