Merry Christmas.

A whole month since I last posted here. No I haven't left you but it has been so hectic here I haven't had chance to write. and now I do it's yet another tale of woe.

My Mother in Law who is 89 has had to move into full time care this week after 9 months of in/out/in again hospital care and a continuing saga of 'events' which have had to be dealt with by family, district nurse, doctors or whoever depending on their nature. Finally the GP has said she is not safe at home mostly due to her refusal to accept appropriate help. The strain on the family has been immense and when she has been home it has been a near full-time job for 3 people. Luckily my input was mostly on the catering front so a little easier to cope with although it has felt odd this week not to be getting up at 7.30 and cooking. Three mornings a week since March I have cooked dinners, 2 on each of 2 days and 3 on a Friday. Full meals with hot puddings and custard which could then be cling filmed, labelled, taken 3 miles and then re-heated by the lunchtime carer.

I got quite organised producing batches of puddings and stews and the like which I then froze, so I could provide a variety of different home made dishes. Now we need to eat our way through all the ones remaining in the freezer, an awkward task as they are such tiny portions and WH will need 3 tubs of stew to feel like he has eaten anything.

Meanwhile we will be having a very odd Christmas, visiting Mother in Law and spending most of the day just the two of us, just youngest stepdaughter popping in for tea and to collect her presents. The main family are coming here on Boxing Day. Just as well it will be quiet really, I have a really bad dose of Bronchitis, picked up on one of the numerous hospital visits. Immuno-compromised by the methotrexate I left it a bit late to go and get antibiotics from the GP so now I am really suffering. At least cooking for 2 will be a doddle but we can always have a hot pudding from the freezer if it all become too much!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Snippets

Sitting in the village surgery waiting room (just for a change) there was a long delay and the room was almost full. Three elderly ladies were putting the world to rights and debated the perils of autumn leaves in the garden, the old man down the road and the problems of getting a decent winter vest, over the course of fifteen minutes or so. They were then joined by another lady who told them that the postal-strike talks over the previous two days had now apparently broken down. "What?" said the hithertoo quietest of the other three, "God knows what they find to talk about," she said, "two whole days and they talk about absolutely nothing." Three single words came into my mind, pot, kettle and black.

Mother in Law was re-admitted to hospital after some stitches from her recent surgery started to bleed out. Naturally WH had gone in with her and had been away from here 8 hours or so dealing with it all. Half an hour after his return, the ward sister phoned to tell us of Mother in Law's admission as Mother in Law thought we might not know.

I found a lovely quote in a book I was reading by Santa Montefiore. Being questioned about his background, a chap who wanted to be evasive gave the following answer "My parents are in the iron and steel business, Mother irons and Father steals." I love it, just wish I had an opportunity to use it.

On a black, rainy, dismal day last week, the engineer arrived to set up our new stereo system. He'd come from Bristol and his sat-nav had sent him up some tiny country lanes but eventually he had hit the main drag so to speak, down the valley and into our small village. He was full of it, the narrow lanes and high hedges and the view from the top of the hill, the little village spread out below and he couldn't stop enthusing about it. "All we need is some sun and it would look like paradise," On a good day, I almost agree.

Is it really worth it

WH has his right arm in plaster, the result of his fall from the porch roof several weeks ago. Last Monday the wires were removed from the break in his wrist and he goes back to be assessed a week tomorrow. He hopes he will be having the plaster removed but it is not a given, he has to have the break X-rayed first. His left foot is not in plaster although he has a broken bone. After a week in plaster it was stable, so after scans and X-rays whilst he was under anaesthetic having his wrist wired, the plaster was removed. This to make his life a little easier although had he not had the wrist injury the leg would be still in plaster. He is not supposed to weight bear more than 50% on that foot and crutches are out of the question due to the broken wrist so he hobbles along with a stick.

Being self employed WH applied for Incapacity Benefit, as his is right as a payer of National Insurance contributions. He has no other income right now. You can't pay yourself Statutory Sick Pay so that is what you do when you're Self Employed. The forms were complicated and he had to send medical certificates etc in his case issued by the hospital on the day of his original accident. After about 4 weeks he was notified he would get a minimal payment. This week however he has been summonsed to attend a medical assessment interview by the Department for Work and Pensions (or rather their big buddies Atos Healthcare). If he had any questions he could phone a number. He did. He phoned. He asked why he had to be assessed given his spectacular, plain to see injuries and the fact he had a medical certificate describing this which more than covered him. He still has a black eye 6 weeks after the event.

He was told he has to be checked to make sure he really has broken his wrist etc. This check will be carried out by a "health care professional", NOT a doctor then. A certificate issued by a doctor is not sufficient. If he doesn't attend the assessment his benefit will be stopped.

His anger rapidly turned to disbelief was he when he was told that that the BA has to make sure that he is not capable of any work. He told them he HAS work when he is fit again, after all he runs his own business and strangely has had more enquiries from customers in the last 6 weeks than he has had all year. He questioned what sort of work a person could do who was immobile and can't use their dominant hand. "Oh there may be something."

So the appointment was made. A letter confirming this arrived yesterday along with a leaflet basically designed to scare the crap out of anyone who was thinking of not turning up. Attached to the appointment was a 'route plan' giving detailed instructions of how to get to the centre, which is 27 miles away, via public transport. Now we live in a rural area. Buses are not very frequent so the gist of this was that in order to arrive at a 2.10pm appointment he needed to leave home at 9 minutes past ten, take a bus 15 miles in the wrong direction, wait half an hour then take another bus past where he had come from followed by another 7 buses with finally a walk of 16 minutes duration. The route proudly proclaimed "Number of changes = 7, Journey duration 2hrs 44 minutes". You would then have to wait over an hour for the appointment which was likely to take a "minimum of 75 minutes but allow 2 hours in total". No return route was sent as as it can't be done on the same day. There is no public transport. There was no suggestion as to what he should do in that case. The booklet supplied states that "You will not be asked to attend an examination centre which would require a journey of more than 90 minutes each way by public transport" No problem with doing that then in the case of someone with their leg in plaster.

Well obviously I will be driving him there. It takes about 40 minutes and we can park quite close by in a public car park.

My question is this. If someone is desperate for the benefit, and given the parlous state of the NHS there are undoubtedly genuine claimants out there, how are they supposed to manage all this when they are going in the first place because they are ill? More to the point why is the Department for Work and Pensions wasting money paying fees to Atos Healthcare to assess people who clearly are very incapacitated but who fully intend to return to their regular job or business when they have recovered? A case of jobs for the boys I think and bugger the poor old public yet again.

Atos Healthcare? All they care about is their bank balance.

The colour purple

Christmas is a-coming. I know it's almost 2 months away but everything seems to be in the shops already. For once I've got my act together and got some stuff in hand but the one present that's concerning me today is my own.

I just saw this shoulder bag on a new Accessory boutique, Pretty and Witty, and I love it, me who normally spends £15 in Asda or Tescos top whack. Maybe it's something to do with the colour, maybe it's the style - I just can't do regular 'hand' bags with my arthritis - or maybe it's because it's not *that* far from my usual price range but I have to have it. I'm telling WH it has to go in my stocking this year.

Not that I don't just love all those other much more expensive ones but being sort of out of the market as it were with my rubbish hands I could never buy one as WH would be carrying it everywhere for me and moaning about the privilege. My 'hold' time for anything is 5 minutes max and that's no exaggeration. But a girl can dream. I defy anyone to not love some of them. For now I settled with a beautiful Saddler purse from the same boutique a couple of weeks ago, and you guessed it, mine is purple and soooo soft, it will look great in that handbag on Christmas morning.

WH you have been well and truly warned.

Home Sweet Home

I've finally sold my old house. Eighteen months ago I tried to sell, gave up and rented it, then had to kick the tenants out because they wrecked it and then I re-marketed. Now some 14 weeks after I accepted an offer I finally have the money in the bank and the paperwork all completed. Not a moment too soon. The estate agent was no help at all, and considering the huge fee I had to pay them, I still did all the chasing-up myself.

This week we have a gardener starting on the back at last. this was to be WH's project over a month ago but falling off the roof gave him a good excuse not to! Now, weeks of glorious weather wasted we have finally found a chap who can dig, put in fence-posts and lay a block wall. If it keeps reasonably dry I might have some plantable ground by November.

Who knows by next spring, after owning this house for two whole years, I may even have a garden to call my own!

Birthday presents

One of the various books the girls and their grandmother gave me for my birthday was Dear Friend and Gardener a series of letters between well known gardeners Beth Chatto and Christopher Lloyd. Written over a two year period some 12 plus years ago it's a lovely read and I find myself sitting up until all hours, visions of the varieties and the settings they each describe whizzing through my brain. Odd snippets of everyday life sneak in too, recipes, people met and meals shared along with a very few mentions of current affairs (the death of Princess Diana being a notable inclusion) which help to place it in context and time. I am amazed I had never read this before, it was on my 'list' but not a high priority. With about 60 pages left to go I will miss it when it ends.

My main present was a breadmaker and having now used it twice I am full of plans for future uses. When married in my twenties I used to make all our own bread and did so for about 10 years until newly single again I had no need of so much, nor the time to do it. I've never really taken it up again since mainly because of WH's love of white sliced! With a breadmaker I can indulge myself in a less time consuming way and make the beloved white as well. In fact I tried that first and it came out beautifully, so much so I was reduced to eating the crust myself along with homemade plum jam. This morning I had my first taste of a home-baked seeded loaf which was good but not as dense as I would like. Recently in Denmark I was eating good rye bread with wholegrains and it finally crystallised in my brain that this is the bread I really enjoy, so I can see I will be experimenting more and more until I perfect my own staple bread. Meanwhile, WH is more than happy with a white loaf from a Hovis ready mix.

Staying in

This last fortnight has been one long round of hospital appointments, plasters being removed and replaced, physiotherapy and an operation last Tuesday. WH is still in quite a bad way. The break to the wrist was a 'nasty' one and has had to eb wired into place. The foot is now plaster-less but hurts like hell, we're awaiting the 'Ortho Reg' to call with a new game plan. Plaster, CT scan or strapping. The head injury appeared to have subsided but the anaesthetic on Tuesday had some strange effects and even now he is suffering from vertigo or it's close cousin. The bruised cheekbone is still black. We even had the doctor out to the house on Thursday after a particularly spectacular session. I am learning to be nursemaid and normally have endless patience, having been fairly immobile at times in my past, but even I was weary last night and was thinking it would be lovely to have a cup of tea I had not made myself. Cooking which to me is a welcome distraction has gone out of the window as the patient just isn't eating.

Visitors have been fairly few, although the phone almost answers itself now and I don't mean the answerphone either. Sometimes I wish for more knocks on the door as it would no doubt cheer the patient up no end, we are in grave danger of a deep depression setting in.

One constant has been the presence of two grey fluffy nurses who are attentive at most times although they do have a habit of falling asleep on the job. Misty as Night Nurse snuggles in and stays put for 6 hours plus although if WH gets up to change position or for a shuffle about he's a bit reluctant to move at all. Nelson keeps watch from the back of the sofa, his tail curling down over WH's head. Unusually he has been home a lot, the retired major up the road has lost his furry doormat for the season.

As usual these things always come at the wrong time, not that there is a right time for an accident. I have finally sold the other house, after a 3 month spell of being messed about by the potential purchaser we exchange contracts next week and complete the following one. Hope I have not hexed this by finally putting it in print here. It's not a moment too soon. However and there is always an however in my experience, we had left the removal of some pretty hefty tool shelving in the garage until the last. Now of course it has to be removed and in a hurry. WH was due to do this the day after his accident. Today I hope that Brother in Law and his Best Mate will be coming to dismantle it all and to hopefully remove it to our business lock up for use up there. The grill, bacon and fresh bread are waiting, small price to pay if a few butties help get the job done.

As for the rest of my day it will be very quiet, a planned supper with a few friends cancelled in the light of WH still at risk of throwing up any second. Strange way for me to spend a birthday but hey, there's a first time for everything.

Broken and brusied

WH fell off the porch roof yesterday. The complaining painter (CP) and I were indoors when we heard a strange thud and a muffled cry. CP rushed outside, he was nearer the door, and immediately shouted for me to call an ambulance. WH was strangely silent and was in a crumpled heap on the floor. An ambulance trip and 4 long hours at the hospital confirmed the damage: a broken wrist, badly bruised face and eye, sprained ankle, torn foot ligaments and concussion. He has cuts and bruises over his whole body. It seems the ladder moved away from the wall as he was climbing off the roof and that he had twisted and hit the front step as he fell, hence the huge black eye. The doctors were bemused by the fact the injuries are diagonal, usually they all one side. The worst problem right now is the head injury, every time he moves he feels dizzy and WH is not one for keeping still. Short of chaining him down I don't know the answer to that one.

Additionally we now have a large plaster and instructions to keep it on for 8 weeks. It's going to be a toughie. I just ordered a new wide screen tv online. I think he's going to need it. As for the building work, we just finished the porch, the rest looks like it's on hold until next year now. Late November will not be the time to start projects outside. The work will have to go on into a third summer.

Excuse me whilst I do some screaming.

Welcome to our world

Yesterday our second granddaughter was born. She is as yet nameless, her parents didn't really consider she might be a girl, but she weighed in at almost 8 pounds and is gorgeous. I'm bound to say that as I'm her grandmother but she really is gorgeous, skin like a ripe peach. It was not quite the smooth birth her Mum had hoped for, in then end she born by C-section after days of will she/won't she and a nerve racking time for her Dad, but at 10 days late she is worth the wait. Her big brother is due to meet her today for the first time. I wonder what he will make of her?

WH meanwhile is counting the cost of his 5th Grandchild being born whilst I was already on a shopping expedition, but you know what, he doesn't begrudge a single penny.

Where did 4 weeks go?

I don't seem to have stopped recently. Taking a pause for breathe right now I realise I haven't been here for a while and I haven't really done that much else unless you count having to cope with feeling like death warmed up for most of the time. I think we survived the swine flu outbreak round here but we both definitely had 'something'.

We have a new grandchild due any moment and it looks like next week we may be toddler sitting for a few days. Or rather WH will be, owing to his far superior skills in that department.

In other news I think I have sold the other house. Having kicked out the tenants due to them completely ruining all the decorations in just 7 months and the whole place looking permanently like a rubbish tip, I was told that my estate agent had 'lots of people just waiting for a house like that'. Of course he lied and a painful 4 months later I have agreed a sale although the purchaser (of course because it is me they are dealing with) is now acting at a snail's pace and 6 weeks down the line we seem no nearer to exchanging contracts. My solicitors are baffled that things can proceed sooooo slowly but in these days of such financial uncertainty at least it is a sale and this purchaser does on the face of it seem unlikely to chuck at the last minute.

On the building front we now have a porch and shortly I might be able to get the front driveway done and see and end to the red sand and mud which is all pervasive and driving me nuts.

We were due to go to Denmark next week to see Ms A but sadly for all sorts of family reasons we're going to have to give it a miss. My £1 flights will go to waste. Greece in September looks doubtful too although I will move heaven and earth to get some sun before the winter sets in. We also have some properties lined up to view over there, another reason for getting over there if we can.

Anyway it's back to the kitchen for me in a minute as I dish up Mother in Law's dinners for another couple of days. I've been doing a mini meals-on-wheels service now for the best part of 4 months so cooking 2 main meals every other day at 7am no longer seems abnormal. I have 40 odd old fashioned puddings in the freezer too, making them in batches of single portions. Trouble is I want to eat them too and have hard time resisting and I probably need to buy another freezer to keep all this stuff in. Sods law, I gave my old freezer away at the beginning of the year.

'Sod's law' seems to sum up my life just now anyway. I'll let you know when it changes!

Happy Birthday Babies

Misty and Nelson are 7 today. I can't believe how old they are and the struggle we had to keep them alive when they were little. 2 of 6 kittens born to a feral cat at the top of our garden, one died within 24 hours and 4 of the rest all had cat flu and other nasties. Three months and £400 later we had managed to keep all 5 alive and were advised by the vet not to rehome these two for a while as they were so sickly. 7 years later they are still here. Jack and Lula are in London and Toby is down the village.

Tonight we celebrate with tins of tuna all round.

Happy Birthday Babies.

A special meal

On our last night in Pelion this last time (I know it was over a month ago but hey, I'm busy) we went to a highly recommended little taverna in the square of our nearest 'big' village. We had been told several times that if we wanted brilliant food to go there and our German neighbours appeared to be eating there almost every night.

We had sussed it our earlier in the week and realised it was a former 'greasy spoon' where we had eaten before and had eaten (or rather left) a terrible meal. This time however it had had a clean-up, was newly painted, had a new menu and fancy tables and vases of flowers were set up under soft lighting outside under a plane tree. It seemed to have a new sign too so we reasoned it must have changed hands although the waiter was obviously the same one we had seen before. We decided to give it a go.

When we arrived for our farewell dinner, one other couple were already eating and drinking with gusto. We realised they were a local English builder and his wife whom we had been told about and who ate there very regularly. It all looked very promising. Deciding to forego starters in favour of the delicious local deserts for once, we asked what the specials of the day were expecting to be asked to inspect them in the kitchen. The surly waiter (well you can't have everything) reeled off a list in broken English. So no kitchen inspection tonight then. I asked him to repeat it in Greek. WH then decided on grilled lamb cutlets with lemon potatoes and vegetables. I plumped for the fish soup Kakavia which is more like a stew and which I had been dying to try. The thought of fragrant mixed fish in a broth of garlic, tomatoes, herbs and onions with a few potatoes and other veggies was very tempting in the still 30 degree heat. As usual the bread came first with our cutlery and I resisted the temptation to eat it immediately and kept it to go with my soup.

WH's cutlets arrived and the warnning bells began to ring. The portion was generous, perhaps 5 or 6 slim lamb chops were heaped up over a pile of roast potatoes. The problem was that the meat was absolutely black, the edges turning to cinder, 'overcooked' didn't even begin to describe it. That sight had just begun to sink in when the fish soup was announced.

I looked down to the bowl placed in front of me and immediately had to look away. An absolutely horrendous sight met my eyes. A whole dogfish head was looking up at me, mouth agape and teeth bared menacingly, eyes protruding. It was swimming in a lake of what looked like oily water. A lone boiled potato joined the fish head along with a couple of branches of the local wild greens. WH looked hesitant then asked if I was OK. "Yes " I said stoically dipping my spoon into the tepid liquid, "It must be a different sort of soup, maybe lemony judging by the colour".

It was not to be lemon either. I tasted it and Oh My God what a taste, dish water topped with rapidly congealing fish oil. There was no taste of anything at all other than rancid, fishy water. No seasoning, no herbs and no savoury garlic or onion. Zilch. WH said later he thought I was about to throw up over the table. How I managed not to I'll never know. I must be stronger than I give myself credit for.

Somehow I ate the potato and some of the fish which was on the bone behind the head. The liquid stayed in the bowl. WH ate his veg and left most of the charcoal pile of meat. The waiter came and took our plates away and asked what we would like next.

"The bill," said WH rather forcefully. We paid up and scarpered quickly; into a bar around the corner for some strong drink to take away the taste. An hour later I still had the taste of fish oil and really I was quite hungry having eaten very little in the heat during the day so I bought a very sickly pre-packed cake from the supermarket, stupidly I didn't think whilst the bakery was still open, and ate the lot. At least the sugar hit took away the taste for a while. Then I went back on the Metaxa.

Next morning I could still taste fish and later it started to repeat on me. Ugh. Later still that day I began to suffer from an upset stomach which carried on for a couple more days after that. Even dinner the next evening in Thessaloniki's hottest shopping mall's Delicertessen,which was a feast for the eyes and all the other senses too, failed to get rid of that fishy feeling.

We've made one decision already about our next visit to the area, probably in September, we will not be dining there again whatever anyone tells us.

Only 8 sleeps

until we see those crazy Hayseed Dixie boys for the first and probably only time this year. They're mostly resting and doing festivals this year but we're able to see them during their short tour of southern England.

Can't wait. Must find some energy from somewhere to have a good bop on the front row, who cares if I'm bedridden the rest of the week.

Rock it to us Deacon Dale!

Hungry cat

Nelson

Why is it that when I feed Misty in the morning he is always hungry again 10 minutes later when Nelson arrives for his food? I fed Nelson in a different room this morning and gave Misty his second meal of the day at the same time. A few minutes later Misty's dish is empty and he is now polishing off Nelson's as well, Nelson having retreated under the table and looking longingly at his rapidly disappearing breakfast.

Seeing as this happens almost every day and at both meal times can anyone tell me why Misty is half Nelson's size?

Back on the meths - Do it yourself style

I saw a locum consultant last week, my brilliant Arthritis one having returned to the country of his birth and a research post. Damn, I knew he was good. Seven months after my last appointment I had my 'early' review, with a stand in doctor at a different hospital 40 miles from home. Such a nice man I had been told, a real gentleman. Well he did stand up when I entered the room and he shook my hand but.... what a load of old cobblers.

He announced he was a retired consultant from Scotland, helping out, before asking me why I was there. I haven't had time to read your notes much. He certainly hadn't read the 5 page later the last chap wrote and had copied to me with his 'plan of action' regarding tests and treatment.

It's not worth the bother of relating much about this poor consultation for consultation read diatribe for the doctor about why I should lose weight. He gave me a cursory examination, apparently could find no evidence of psoriasis or indeed anything much and suggested he do a raft of the same tests the previous chap had ordered in December, just to check. Carry on taking the tablets. I asked about my skin problems, "I can't see any," he said from 6 feet away, "we'd have to refer you to a skin person,"

"For Psoriasis? That's why I am here, "

"Well I don't do skin."

I glumly asked him how long before I could get any treatment, "Well we could put you on a trial but I don't think it's worth it."

Not worth it when I have been like this for 9 months and am getting worse by the week. I burst into tears and sat back. Something about his God like manner and the demeaning way in which he spoke to me made me give up in an instant. I just wanted to be out of that room and I was angry that after being told last year and even having had it confirmed in writing that in the opinion of the last consultant no-one was looking at the whole picture and from the evidence he had found in my notes I had had psoriasis ignored since 1966 no less, yet again I was going away demoralised and with no hope of relief.

Thankfully I had taken WH with me. Usually I go to ALL his appointments, he rarely attends mine. WH began to get annoyed and questioned why I needed to go through the whole lot again after the last round when a treatment had been proposed but no one had wanted to prescribe it after the previous bloke left. "I am not he, was the reply I need to do these things for myself." WH asked him if he would be here in a month's time to review the results then. Er..... NO. He was only a stand in. WH told him the effect of the PA on me (and him) said I could lose weight if I could actually move a bit after all I had lost 40 pounds on my Lyme treatment. The eyebrows raised and he visibly shifted in his seat. I know that disbelieving look. WH told him every time I did lose weight I was put back on medication whose chief side effect is weight gain. I was fighting a losing battle. Why could I not start the original proposed treatment for a trial period and see if it helped. Eventually the chap agreed, I think mainly to get rid of an increasingly irate WH and a tearful me. Then he couldn't get us out of the room fast enough albeit clutching a note to the GP to prescribe and a note for a blood test.

I duly started methotrexate again on Saturday. I was not given the treatment card I had to carry last time and there was no mention of the weekly or fortnightly blood test I was supposed to be getting to monitor my liver. I made an appointment for myself and another to see my GP, the earliest of which was 20th July. Today I realise that the instructions on the bottle of pills are different from what he had written on the GP note and had told me verbally. I will have to check with the pharmacy (whilst I also checked the dose of WH's meds which he suddenly discovered is double the usual strength, but that's a whole other story.)

I had a follow up appointment in the post on Saturday; this time another new doctor but at the same distant hospital in 3 months time. That looks like a good start anyway. Yesterday I felt a burning sensation on my scalp which was driving me nuts. I asked WH to investigate, after all you can't see the top of your own head. 2 seconds later he announced massive psoriasis spots all over. Funny that, 3 days before there was no sign whatsoever when the locum looked. He did shake my hand again when I left, what a gentleman.

Life is just a bowl of cherries

Outside my window is a large bird-cherry tree. It's actually in my neighbour's garden but right now it's full of ripening cherries and a family of four baby blackbirds with their long suffering parents. The babies fledged last week after two days of the parent birds feeding them with cat food which I had put out in a bowl on the patio. Each time the dish emptied (helped along by our own grey twins) Father bird tapped the bowl so we would go out and refill it.

The current antics start about 6am just as the day is starting to warm up and few shafts of sunlight bathe the branches. The fluffy babies fly in awkwardly crash landing on the bendy branches knocking cherries to the floor, or more correctly onto my front driveway. Then the squawking starts. The babies peck anything, branch, leaves, twigs and the occasional cherry. They haven't quite yet got the hang of retrieving a whole fruit and time and time again their intended breakfast slips to the ground. The more they lose, the more they squawk until finally an anguished parent hops in and deftly pokes a whole cherry into the gaping beak. Sometimes baby doesn't know what to do with this, should he swallow it or not? Eyes bulging they finally gulp the cherry down. Then a sibling starts up, he wants one as well and the poor parents hop from branch to branch, clucking and whistling at their offspring and stuffing them full of the ripe fruit.

These babies are almost twice the size of the parents and sit uneasily on the branches and gingerly move along the stems in search of the fruit. They lose their balance and sometimes their grip, at times sliding down until a flapping, flurry of wings renders them airborne and they find another branch to start the whole thing again.

Later, tired and full of fruit the babies doze amongst the branches and drunk looking heads with rolling eyes peep out from between the leaves. The parent birds use this time to feed themselves and leave the tree for an unhindered trip round the district or for a bit of worm digging on the lawn. Finally they've had enough too and a loudly clucking parent chivvies up the fat little babies and they are shepherded back to their nest in the eucalyptus tree opposite for a long rest until they get hungry again.

Back to reality

Our holiday seems a lifetime away, almost 3 weeks since we returned now. This last weekend we were away in Southampton and visited the Hillier Gardens at Romsey. So many trees and so little energy to walk round them all. I did get a few photos of some of the stranger ones though.

Tomorrow I see my new (yet again) consultant. The lovely chap I saw in December has apparently left and I'm seeing a locum once again. I just hope he decides to go with the other chaps plan of action or else I'll be having another boat load of tests again. I just want to start some proper treatment, after all I've been waiting 7 months over which time I have put on weight after the steroid trial, have begun to seize up and and now can't walk very well. Additionally the excruciating skin itch is back with a vengeance. What started as a minor irritation when I was bitten on holiday has developed into a large red, raised patch on my arm which itches intensely. It wakes me up it's so bad. Surely a sign of galloping psoriasis if ever I saw one. Fingers crossed that matey tomorrow agrees and finally does something about it. Nothing I have tried works at all. I can't believe that last year I was so well (and so thin - for me anyway) and now I am almost back to square one, just the Lyme symptoms are still thankfully absent.

The last few weeks I have done what I can to help with Mother in Law, saw the death of a very old friend whom I shall miss intensely and provided bacon sandwiches and tea on tap to the other friend who is helping WH to build our porch. At least at home normality rules, it still looks like a building site!

What a welcome

We're back, we're brown and quite chilled out, already missing long lazy days by the sea, frappe in hand.

I see the political climate hasn't improved during our holiday, in fact it seems to be worse, TV news seems sadly all too similar to what it was almost 4 weeks ago.

This however sums it up for me:

You never had it so good, Invictor

Aging rockers they may be and the lip sync is crap but the words are brilliant. Watch it and weep.

Interlude

It has been a frantic week mostly spent dealing with an elderly woman who is determined to starve herself to death. She neither wants to eat nor drink nor let anyone help her. It is sad. After discharge from hospital last week things got worse. Today it all came to a head and finally a patient, kind district nurse with the temperament and voice of a sergeant major finally got our lady moving again and mobilised the troops so from tomorrow the long suffering family will not have to cope alone. My sister in law is beyond words, barely able to speak after daily, in fact hourly battles of wills, unable to fathom how someone could let themself go in this manner. Serious illness has been ruled out. A perverse desire to be supremely awkward is the consistent diagnosis.

Meanwhile I have taken refuge in my genealogy, odd moments at the ends of the days where I can think about something else. I was researching some Romany family. Well what a surprise that turned out to be and no picnic either. It seems amid the depths of the message boards and history web sites, dark forces are lurking and nasty comments and messages lead to massive fallings-out, board wars and worse. Some sites have all but closed. People I thought were friendly are revealed in their full-blown nastiness. I can't believe the things that were said about squabbles several years old and obviously involving people who know each other away from the internet. I am sad, disillusioned and disheartened and began to wonder if it was all worth it. I had some of my work plagiarised in the past, in one instance several years ago a whole family tree I passed to someone for their perusal suddenly turned up all over the net. A couple of more recent things have turned up too but nothing on such a scale as then. Discussing this recently in general on a website I was astounded to be almost hounded to say who had done it. It seemed my interrogator had a guilty conscience but I desisted from getting involved. This then followed me to another website where I had seen none of the embattled for days and was gaily chatting about something completely different. Those who did get involved were followed all over the net by individuals who feel that they have an axe to grind and a point to make but their logic and grammar is so hard to follow, no-one can really tell what it's all about. I don't care, it was the principal that was at stake and in future I won't be sharing anything.

So genealogy hasn't given me any respite at all. One thing that will however begins tomorrow, we finally return to Greece and our lovely Kalamos. The weather there is 30 degrees and sun is forecast for weeks. I'll think of you on the beach on Wednesday. See you in June.

What I saw in hospital

Mother in law is in hospital, admitted over a week ago for a blood pressure reading so much off the scale that the first doctor thought his machine had broken, we had really taken her in to have a suspcted fracture investigated. 4 days later a fracture in a bone in the wrist was reported along with the statement that they 'wouldn't be doing anything with it as it appears not to hurt her'. Meanwhile we waited 6 days for a 24hr heart monitor which we were told on admission would be required. On Saturday came the news that the heart test was fine but they couldn't do any other tests now because of the Bank Holiday, the doctor would probably order some more on his return on Tuesday. If pat experience tels us anything then it will be Friday before these tests are carried out. By then MIL will have been 'in' 2 whole weeks. No wonder they are short of beds. The whole NHS process grinds slowly on with no sense of urgency or even regard for the patient's well being. We have ben concerned about her lack of eating and drinking. No-one encourages her to do either outside of the family who have devised a rota to ensure there is someone present at the evening meal time. the main meal of that day is at lunchtime and visiting is not allowed. Daily she reports she 'ate nothing/ didn't like it/couldn't be bothered' or even on a couple of occassions 'didn't get any pudding/they forgot me/I didn't have a fork'. Add this catalogue to the day I discovered a jug of water out of arm's reach and no glass no wonder this lady is losing weight and de-hydrated.

A request to the ward sister to monitor her eating and drinking as we felt this to be a problem resulted in a lovely record sheet being pinned to the bottom of the bed first thing in the morning. There were columns for description of food/drink, amount given, amount eaten and overall comments. Trouble is at 5pm the whole sheet was blank, no one had bothered to use it.

If the NHS were school project the marks would be as follows:

Knowledge: 5/10

Interest in subject: 1/10

Effort: 0/10

Some interesting ideas were put forward at the outset but the project failed to follow through and almost no written work was submitted for evaluation. Must try much harder.

OK, I joke but this is an elderly lady's life at stake here and from where I sit no one is very interested at all.

Summer is on it's way

The last couple of weeks we could almost be excused for thinking it was summer already. Long days of sunshine and the clearest of blue skies have sent the temperature here on the patio cum building site soaring. It's been too lovely to resist doing a bit of plant pottering, re-arranging my many tubs and pots and potting up a few summer bulbs. All this despite the fact I still have no actual garden to plant anything into.

The icing on the cake has been the arrival of the swallows and martins which wheel over the village all day and long into the evening. The resident blackbirds have been busy to making a nest just over the fence in a shrub in our neighbours garden. the male singing in the eucalyptus tree morning and night, a lovely sound I never had in the previous garden. How nice to have 'our own' blackbird. The goldfinches too have finally found the niger feeders and look like miniature parrots as they swing round 4 to a feeder busily pecking away.

Today though it's raining heavily, much needed water for the gardens. I wish there was more in mine than weeds to reap the benefits but without some decent topsoil I just have to wait.

Waking up

A whole two weeks since I wrote anything here and most of that time I have been asleep. I am really not doing so well on the osteoporosis meds and actually stopped taking them 3 days ago. The brain fog is lifting, the sleepiness is going and I feel like a different person. No doubt my GP will have something to say but I really can't go on like that. It's almost summer and I have too much to do. I am STILL waiting another consult with the Rheumatology guy and am not taking anything at all for the arthritis which is having it's own problems like 24 hour pain. Until that is sorted the garden will have to wait.

WH has just left for the cupboard supplier and will be fitting out the utility room this afternoon. Another box we can tick. Yesterday a knock at the door revealed an EHO from the council investigating a blocked drain further down the road. I checked his credentials (yes really !) and let him in to dye test our drains. Walking into the kitchen he stopped dead. "Wow, it's a bit different from next door" and he went on to ask me about the flooring which he wanted for his own kitchen. As he left he said "You've got a great room there, I love the light". Coming soon after an estate agent (for the other house) had said it was like walking into another country it was so bright and sunny, that pleased me no end. So far only WH's sister has made a bad comment along the lines of how small the kitchen was, at 5m square just who is she kidding, it's 3 times the size of hers (meow, meow). So maybe the wait has been worth it and WH has really created his wow effect which was what he was aiming at all along.

I promise I really will post pictures soon.

And now there's so much

OK, I've now got so much to say I'll have to list it:

1. My tenants were a pain, they have caused all sorts of problems in the house and it needs a total redecoration. It was decorated throughout last August. The tenants will shortly be histiry for afresaid reasons. The house is now For Sale.

2. This hosue is a hive activity, as I write the utility is being plastered, we have a new cloakroom, the porch is being built and the last 3 'extra' kitchen cupboards are in place.

3. Because of note 2 I am daily running out of milk, sugar and tea.

4. Also because of note 2 I have retreated to various county records offices and to meeting with geanealogy friends in coffee shops in order to avoid the noise and dust.

5. I now provide a daily meals on wheels service for Mother in Law. I am rapidly running out of ideas for old fashioned home cooked stodge. Already WH is craving curries and stir fries, if I give in then I have to cook 2 separate meals a day.

6. Our grandkids suddenly want to sleep over, come for meals and spend even more time here. It's no big deal but it requires even more cooking, supervising school projects and keeping tabs on the numerous friends who come to call.

7. I can hardly believe I am writing this but the weather has been gorgeous. Sitting out on the south facing patio has become a must. It's sheltered, sunny and you could almost believe you were by the Med if you didn't have to open your eyes and survey the building site which STILL occupies the back garden. The fig tree is growing leaves though.

8. The majority of my plants are still in pots and tubs so daily watering is imperative in the month long dry spell we ahve had. I have to fight the builders for use of the hosepipe though and I don't always win.

9. An elderly friend is in hospital in the midlands. We have been visiting and it looks like he is in for the long haul. The car is getting used to the weekly treck up the M5 once again.

10. It's only 5 weeks until we go back to Kalamos. The work here should be finished then, just the garden left for our return. It will be wonderful, almost 3 weeks of utter peace. Can't wait.

Nothing to say

Sorry I've not been around but I really have not much to say. I've had a hellish few weeks with some new meds and I've been asleep for great parts of them.

I've also been stuck into the family tree seeing as I couldn't do much else and by the time you've ploughed through 50 plus census sheets and re-examined them with the magnifying glass, the last thing you want to do is peer at at a pc screen.

Mother-in-law is not too well now, she's very frail so I'm doing meals-on-wheels for her on a daily basis. 7 days a week. She has 3 daughters but funnily enough they're not very forthcoming with extra help. Thank goodness for No 1 daughter who picks up the dinner on a school day and delivers it to the recipient in the next village on her way past.

And I lost my cleaner, the wonderful Ms T, she had so much on her plate she's had to give up work. I'm going to miss her dreadfully especially at the moment when I'm doing my own cleaning (and ironing which is the real killer).

So just a few snippetts of random information but nothing very exciting, I have only been out twice in 3 weeks after all.

Roots, Chat and Romanies

Courtesy of Helen Musselwhite

I've been taking the time to investigate some of WH's ancestors whilst the weather has been cold and I'm not up to doing much for other reasons. At the end of last year my pc crashed rather spectacularly and all my family tree files were lost, the majority of them hadn't been backed up elsewhere, unlike all the stuff littering my desk top. I've now bought a brilliant external hard drive which saves everything automatically so I never have to worry about missing files.

But back to the family Tree, I did still have a paper record of it all amongst a foot high pile of paper which had been languishing behind the desk since the move here last July. So January's project anyway was to sift through it all and sort it out. It's really been quite useful having to input all the data into my Family Tree programme for a second time as I can weed out the rubbish and get a refresher course on some of the stuff I had forgotten.

WH's family or that section of it are descended from Romanies and searching back through the old censuses has been almost impossible in some cases. Because they travelled around and did not have permanent homes, they often escaped the enumerator's pen and where they are recorded they are usually at the end of a particular section (the enumerators were instructed to record them there) and in a lot of cases their names and such like were ignored. Quite often I come across a record like '7 travelling gypsies living in tents', names, places of birth, age etc etc all recorded NK, or not known. Where they were recorded there are errors, names and places are spelled incorrectly, ages are wrong; after all most of these people were illiterate (as were many others in regular houses) and enumerators wrote only what they heard, often phonetically. Couple that with people with strange accents and even stranger names and a very odd mix appears on the sheets and that's when you can read the writing. Names like Tryphena, Hezekiah, Power, Vashti and Defiance were commonplace amongst those communities. One girl I came across was labelled Finance!

I like a challenge however, and over the last 7 years I've amassed a wealth of information about gypsy families travelling around the South West and even further afield. If I couldn't find 'my' lot then I followed some of the other families and eventually like the proverbial bad penny one of 'mine' would pop up, living with cousins or some such and tagged on the end of family record, misspelled and wrong aged but enough of a link to know who they really were.

Only recently has it all begun to come together however. I chanced on a website where researchers help each other out and chew over such thorny problems as some of mine. Roots Chat is amazing and people are only too willing to help, regularly doing 'look-ups' for strangers and even in one case I read using their own 'paid for' credits on other websites to search for information. I also found some Romany Genealogy sites, these have been a mine of information and it's been fascinating reading about the lives of the travellers about which I had hitherto known very little.

Yesterday I was contacted by a Romany lady who lives quite near here and who is descended from the same families. We have lots of the same information and it will be fun comparing notes. She also suggested we could meet up in person and invited us to her Romany home which was very kind of her and totally unexpected. I'm not sure we can meet up at the moment, I'm really not well enough to go off meeting strangers and there is so much to do here, WH won't thank me for dragging him away for a day on a Family Tree jaunt. But one day we will meet I'm sure and learn more about the past and the families who have passed on their legacy of the travel bug to WH and several more in his family. Now I'm even beginning to better understand this complex being I live with.

And yet another one

I've been awol a week with weirdy viral-y symptoms which sort of went enough for me to have a couple of wonderful meals out with friends at the weekend (apropos of nothing special, just good times) then returned on Monday to strike with a vengeance.

It's not my year so far is it?? I've got Viral Labyrinthitis now, big name for what is really vertigo with a viral cause. At least it's not a reaction to the new osteoporosis drugs I'm on which is what I thought, corresponding as it did with the end of the first week of those and the first dose of the stuff that stops the calcium from leaching out of my bones.

Driving to my spinal X-ray appointment on Monday afternoon at least I had the presence of mind to call up WH and get him to rescue me as I was falling asleep at the wheel. X-rays over, he took me home and I slept for 17 hours. I can barely remember the X-rays themselves other than the lovely trainee Russian radiographer who apologised for having to do 7 plates. 7 ??? When?? I remembered a couple maybe. I slept most of yesterday too and then awoke this morning relatively chipper until I tried to move. A swift consult at the 'acute' GP clinic this morning (at least the Noctor referred me to a proper doctor) found the cause of the problem and thankfully it wasn't the drugs at all. Now I just have to wait for the bugs to bugger off.

The most annoying thing is that it feels like I have the Hang-over from Hell but I didn't drink a thing. Honest!

Yet another diagnosis

I thought being diagnosed with Psoriatic arthritis in December and being told I'd had it since at least 1993, if not before, was bad enough. Yesterday I get a call from my GP who tells me all the scans etc I had over New Year have shown I have Osteoporosis in my spine - severe. In the interest of public decency I can't really put here what I said to her in reply.

So now I am left thinking why on earth did they not find this before. It's not as if I haven't been to the doctors recently; I have averaged 2 visits a week to my local surgery for one thing or another over the last 4 years. A lot of those things are bone/back/foot/ hand related. They have found out that I have 'multiple fractures of both feet on different occasions'. So is this why my feet hurt then. I did tell them often enough. It's not this recent GP, I haven't really said much to her about it, rather the previous couple, they ignored it so much I just gave up. Thought it was old age creeping on.

Now I'm down for more tests, xrays of my spine, bloods etc etc ad nauseum. I decided that I've got to get fit and I really need to do some load bearing exercise to strengthen my bones. Quite how I can, when at the moment every bone in my body is screaming in agony, my back won't seem to hold me upright a lot of the time, never mind the pain in my feet which has been steadily gaining in strength since Christmas I'm not really sure at this juncture.

I've also discovered that I am now 6 times more likely to break bones from minor injuries, this is obviously why I keep breaking ribs, (Neelu your words were prophetic) so I have to be a bit circumspect in what I do. No more offering to help with moving bricks and stuff with WH, I'm so clumsy I usually end up doing some damage anyway. I have a gung-ho approach to things like that anyway, if I can physically manage something at the time I'll do it, never mind the usual payback after the event. It helps me feel normal i.e. not sick - don't you know.

Yesterday I started the chewable calcium tablets 'especially suitable for the elderly' and have yet to take the once weekly thing where I need to keep upright for 2 hours afterwards and during which time I can't eat anything or take any other meds. OK, I know thousands if not millions of other people do all this and have the same diagnosis but surely not at my age, not really, honestly. Of all the crap health-wise I have had to put up with over the years, this seems to have affected me the most mentally. Trying to be rational I tell myself that it's not life threatening, millions are worse off than me and facing life limiting illness and far worse handicaps every day. I accept all that really I do. I just have one overwhelming feeling that I have never, ever had before. Suddenly, I feel old.

Snowed in.

One of the roads out of the village

Yup, that's us. 12 inches of snow over one night has cut off our village.

No post for 3 days, no newspapers and no bread in the village shop. What we do have is a wonderful, almost carnival, atmosphere as everyone abandons their normal existence for a few days and goes walking, sledging and even skiing. The streets are busy with folk out doing stuff. WE had a pub lunch yesterday and then spent the afternoon with friends. On the walk back lots of people said Hi as we all slipped and slithered in the freezing snow.

The Alps in England: look at all the skiers out on the slopes!

The waiting game

It's been a hectic week one way and another. WH arrived back from his annual skiing trip along wth the obligatory machine full of laundry; my cleaner, the lovely Ms T had a bad back so I had to clean my own house; we had youngest grandson (19 months) to stay for a night and a day and then had to take him back home over 80 miles away and what with blood tests, hospital appointments and all the usual business-y stuff I'm quite whacked out. WH has been working some odd hours too, meaning he doesn't eat his dinner until after 9pm so I'm still waiting to clear up and wash dishes at 10, my pet hate.

This week though it should be a little calmer. A slack week business wise gives WH the opportunity, finally, to tile the kitchen. With a short visit from the depressed painter looming, to do some touching up, I can almost see the end of the kitchen in sight. The one thing which conspires to thwart all this is the non arrival, STILL, of the sideboard which I ordered at the end of November. Actually it did arrive, despite all the suppliers promises (lies?) on New Year's Eve (should have been before 15th December) but when we opened the packages, the top was badly damaged as were 2 of the drawers. Hasty photo and email exchanging confirmed that it was a manufacturing fault and that we would be supplied with replacements within 5 working days. They didn't arrive. I took this up with Trading Standards or as they are now known Consumer Direct and it should all have been sorted by last Friday. It hasn't. So now I'm still walking round 3 large boxes, we can't finish the last unpacking and sorting out in the kitchen and the whole thing is now, not to put too fine a point on it, getting on my flipping nerves.

This whole experience of internet purchasing for the kitchen has actually soured my view of the process. An order for cooker hoods and stuff was cancelled because the firm failed to deliver in the set time and then could not even tell me when the goods were likely to arrive. Eventually I got a refund by resorting to my Credit Card company. The supplier had now gone bust so I'm glad I dealt with that straight away or I would now be seriously out of pocket and still awaiting the refund. The sideboard cost more, a lot more, and because I technically have all parts claiming a refund is not so easy. The firm used Paypal and they don't want to know, neither does the credit card company because a third party (Paypal) was involved. In future I will confine my internet purchasing to household names, little unknown firms will be a no no. They truly don't deliver.

So for now I wait and wait. I've turned my attentions to the old bathroom. It doesn't look like WH will be re-fitting that in the near future so the painter will be painting it as it is, the blind will be going up instead of my dreadful temporary curtains and a shiny new mirrored cupboard is waiting in the wings to go on the wall. Meanwhile WH will be finally fitting out the downstairs cloakroom and the utility room, all I need for that is a couple of cupboards, everything else is in the garage, just like me, waiting.

Loved up and muddy.

At 3am this morning I was reflecting on why the wind-down routine I normally go through every night in order to ensure a few hours decent sleep didn't seem to be working. I think maybe being the sole target of a wet, muddy cat probably had something to do with it. I'd been out last night visiting a relative, WH being currently on his annual skiing trip so I have time to do these things. When I got back around 10.20 it was hammering down in no small way. The grey babies of course were bored stiff and hungry. We're currently undergoing a period when they don't like any cat food at all, not even the regular tried and tested varieties which they will normally scoff without too much bother. Nelson in particular is unusually picky even for him and until and unless the cat food people develop new flavours such as 'Robin' or 'Greenfinch' I have been feeding half rations only so that they are more inclined to eat anything. Having fed them, they turned their noses up at the food and cleared off outside for a run round as the rain had stopped a little and the wind got up. Wind is always an enticing prospect, leaves to chase, the feel of the breeze in the fur and the prospect of other local cats being outside to terrorise too. They might even find some food if they looked hard enough.

Misty returned later to take root on my bed next to my left shoulder. I was reading at the time and finally starting to get drowsy enough to attempt some sleep. Right now I am mid-course a high dose of steroids as a 'test' to see what effect they have on the Psoriatic Arthritis. So far so good, loads of symptoms are going but with the usual unnerving side effects that I always get of sleeping very little, being extremely hot and being permanently hungry. I took off my glasses and shut the book when it hit me, a wet paw at 30 miles an hour across my cheek. Not a savage dig, his claws were sheathed, but like a lightening sort little tap, delicate but with the added frisson of being wet and muddy. It was like a slap on the cheek with a tiny, wet football.
I looked down and he was in full drool, 'I love you Mummy' eyes and making barely audible little mewling sounds to reinforce the message. Misty was in full-on, loved up mode. Unfortunately I knew what was to follow. I stroked his head and turned away to put the book down, the tapping started again. I then stroked him several times more but was telling him I HAD to go to sleep now, it was late enough but of course he wasn't interested. All he wanted was for me to play with him and he started biting the duvet then hoping I would tickle him through it and we could have a real old scrap. He loves all this, the rougher the better but not at 3am. No way. he started jumping over me from side to side and grabbing my hands.
I tried little strokes to calm him down and he got worse. I ignored him and the tapping started up again. Finally he tried his last beguiling move. He walked up along my body and came to sit under my chin on my left hand side. He used to do this as a sick kitten, 6 years ago. He fitted the space then, now he's far too big and ends up slumped across my face rendering me almost unable to breathe. He manoeuvred his head right under my chin and rubbed against my neck, over and over again. He was in 7th heaven and then started to chew his feet, his favourite thing in the whole world. You can always tell when Misty is contented, he rolls on his side, usually up against a person and chews his feet, spreading the toes wide so he can nibble the long, velvety fur between his pads.

I gave up at this point and resumed the book. Half an hour later there was a loud bang outside as something blew down the road in the wind. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he dashed off to go outside through the cat flap and investigate. By that time I was wet, had muddy streaks painted down my face necessitating another wash, and I then put a towel on the bed in case Misty returned and by this time was wide, flipping, awake. I finally drifted off about 4 I think though it could (she says charitably) have been a little earlier.

At 6am the man in the house opposite mine was loading his car with god knows what but it was loud, and shouting to wife at the same time and so I woke with a start. I must have had all of 2 hours sleep. I was then extremely hot and hearing me turn in bed, Nelson appeared. There was noise outside, I was moving, albeit only slightly, so it MUST be breakfast time. He started crying as only Nelson knows how. I got up in despair.

Now I'm exhausted, my eyes want to shut and go to sleep but the oil delivery is on it's way, I have to go shopping and I have several phone calls to make. The greys naturally are fast asleep on their own beds in the kitchen in the sun. I'm going to get a big piece of fish from the supermarket and cook it about 9pm tonight to feed them at 10. Hopefully with a massive meal of their second favourite food inside them they might sleep a few hours downstairs before they start the night shift again.

And please don't anyone tell me to shut the downstairs door so they can't get upstairs and into the bedroom. Last time I did that I couldn't sleep for the noise of 2 cats head butting a door for 2 hours in tandem and when I got up to open it having given in, I found they had wrecked the carpet behind it too.

A chink of light

Two years ago this week my Mother died, the end of 15 hard years of worry and aggravation when I knew that she would rather have had my sister as her main carer than have to make do with me, whom she always regarded as second best. As sister lives on another continent it wasn't to be. After the death came the relief and the calm of a certain knowledge that I was no longer on permanent call-out, albeit 140 miles away, and the luxury of being able to spend whole weeks at home without having to check my messages every 20 minutes and worrying that if I went out anywhere I would have to leave again in a hurry.

The effects, over the final seven to eight years of having to drive to her home in the middle of the night at short notice, go rushing up on a Monday morning because she needed a loaf of bread and she refused to ask anyone else, living in a 'guest room' for 4 weeks whilst hospital visiting a patient who complained the whole time and having almost daily phone calls from carers who were denied entrance, carers who had been shouted at, carers who had been accused of stealing and a doctor who thought I was a waste of space (after all I was ill with Lyme Disease too) can scarcely be over estimated. They took a toll on me that I had hardly noticed until the weight lifted. I took time to recover. I also spent the best part of the following 12 months sorting out her affairs, will, probate etc as I was the only person able to do it. I remember attending a probate interview at court being hardly able to walk. My step-daughter had dropped me off outside as there was no public parking but I then had to wait for her return outside the opposite side of the road in freezing temperatures, barely able to stand. Daughter was stuck in the midday traffic and the whole interview had taken less than 10 minutes and not the 30 I had envisioned.

I didn't expect much relief that first twelve months but I did get a little more than I bargained for. We decided to buy this house and that decision more than anything else has coloured the last twelve months along with WH being diagnosed with depression, the awful result of his appearance as a prosecution witness at a murder trail, a particularly nasty and vindictive customer and his general sadness at the effects of aging.

Today the house project is on its way to being finished. We had planned to have it finished 9 months ago but the downturn in the building trade coupled with the fact that every single outside contractor we have employed has let us down at some stage or other, lead us to decide that outside 'paying' work would come first, WH being in the enviable position, even now, of having so much work offered to him that he can pick and choose at whim. He may as well earn whilst there is still work there to earn from. Other local tradesmen without exception are not so lucky.

This weekend I unpacked the last of the 60-odd boxes which had been stored for up to 2 years in the garage at the other house, a truly momentous occasion. Now all we have remaining in there is stuff that should be in a garage and which can be brought here when this one reverts to it's proper use and stops being the builder's workshop and tool store. We now have just the two bathrooms, a cloakroom and the gardens still to do. The gardens are my job anyway and will occupy me over the summer whilst we are still here.

If we had been able to take our original course (which was get the keys in April 07, build in May to Oct 07 and move-in in Nov 07) we would have had tenants in by now. Instead we didn't get the keys until July 07, started building in November 07, due to planning delays, then lost most of the winter to rain and floods and a bricklayer who only worked 2 days a week at most so we didn't move in until July 08, the time we had planned to be moving out to somewhere warmer than here. Which brings me neatly round to my little chink of light at the end of the tunnel. Greek light, that is.

Last week I booked to go to our beloved Kalamos for the fourth time, this time for almost 3 weeks in May. It will give us a chance to look around again and make some decisions regarding our eventual move. By then the garden here should be well under way and the majority of the inside work completed. WH is seeing a new consultant soon so his depression should be getting some proper treatment too. My project managing duties are now almost over and I have time to spend on other pursuits; at present I am literally getting my office in order, unpacking and sorting the mountain of paperwork brought in haste from the old house. I now have time to read for pleasure again, I had almost stopped for those 2 years as I concentrated on planning applications, orders, insurances and probate. I get time to go off with friends window shopping, garden visiting or even better plant buying. Recently I've been trawing the web for apartments to rent and places to go and visit.

I can finally see that little chink of light and it's getting brighter by the second.

Fuzzy-headed with boots on.

Well this week so far I've been scanned twice, had some blood taken, seen the bones in my hands on-screen looking like join the dots and been radio active. Yes, it's all happening here folks.

Dr Thorough ordered all this lot and the scans originally were a day apart but with some help from the receptionist at our Medical Imaging Dept I managed to get the second one done whilst I was waiting for the isotopes to start working for the first one.

Interesting experience being rendered radio active. One of the many warnings were to ensure no-one else came into contact with my urine for 24 hours. I was amazed they thought they needed to tell people that. Maybe they thought I was some sort of fetishist but well really, how odd, seeing as I am fully capable in that department. I was also to avoid kissing babies, so wouldn't do for politicians then. I had no warnings, however, about the weird, fuzzy head which seemed to come on almost immediately the liquid went in my arm. To kill time whilst it activated, a period of 3 hours, I went to Tescos and did the weekly shop, I forgot half and had to go back last night. Not cheap though, I managed to spend £95 the first time and the stuff I forgot was £32. Frightening for 2 people and 2 cats for one week. But I digress, I was walking round Tescos as though in a trance (hence the purchase of a set of baking tins and some roasting tins too) and I was trying so hard to concentrate that even the till woman seemed to think that I was a druggie or something. Didn't go well either when I chucked a pot of nacho dip straight over the conveyor and onto the floor, cue colleague announcement, "Cleaner to till 4 immediately, customer spillage." No one came.

I returned early to the hospital for a regular bone scan, hips and lower spine. The scans only took 4 minutes. Getting into position for the lower spine was another matter. Lie flat on back, bum pushed towards bed. Place feet 2-3 feet apart. Then turn toes in towards each other, making legs as flat as they will go. At this point some sort of plastic wedge was shoved between my knees to keep my legs still. Finally a thick plastic strap was velcroed over which pushed my toes each side down into the bed. If I couldn't get my legs flat apparently they could then weight them with sandbags. Luckily I was deemed flat enough. Then "Relax, and keep as still as you can for 4 minutes."

10 minutes later I still couldn't get off the bed and my sacro-iliacs were screaming. "Now that wasn't too bad was it? " I muttered something unintelligible and fled to Nuclear Medicine who were by then almost ready for me.

Having been asked at the MRI last week to remove all my clothes and to wear surgical scrubs in order to 'preserve the cleaniless of the examination rooms and equipment', I was expecting to get changed or remove outer clothes at least. The Bone scan required no shoes and the removal of anything containing much metal, underwear OK, biker's leather belts, NOT. The Nuclear scan however required nothing in particular, only removal of my glasses lest the moving bits of the machine damaged them. I was nevertheless still totally unprepared when I had the foot image done to be asked to put my feet, which were STILL INSIDE my walking boots, flat to the table and bend my knees so the soles were flat on the bed. No problem. "This machine can see through boots." Yeah but what about the metal bits? And the dirt?

Lastly, I had a separate scan of my hands and for this I could seen the screen clearly as the image was produced; I was by now sitting with my hands on an imaging table. I asked what the strange scan was in the left-hand of the two screens.

"Oh we're not interested in that, it's just part of your head and arms and your head's all fuzzy." You bet it was by then.

Little things....

Did you see my fish? Unashamedly pinched the idea from velo-gubbed-legs.

I love 'em, reminds me of blue skies, hot sun and clear blue seas. It's only taken me a week to realise though, they're even cooler than I thought.

Did you see what happens if you click on them and feed them? Smart.

Doesn't take much does it??

You saw it first

here.

I'm a published writer! Ages ago, the lovely Bill from Corfu - Life up the Hill asked me if she could print something I'd written here for Nisea, a magazine she writes for in Corfu.

Finally, finally I got to see the result when the actual mag turned up in the post just before Christmas. My first time in print, I was really pleased. Not sure why they thought it was a poem, it was really a bit tongue in cheek, like a list the kids do when they go back to school after the summer but still they liked it, that's the main thing.

Now I've seen this though, I want to do some more. After all Mary Wesley didn't start writing until her 60's and her first novel wasn't published until she was 71, so I've got plenty of time left yet!

Ruling the Roost

We've got some new residents here. Over the last few weeks of this frosty weather I've been feeding the birds in earnest, being able to find the feeders helped certainly but I did make extra effort to scramble over the mud seeing as the birds all looked so hungry. A pair of blackbirds seem to have taken up permanent residence along with a juvenile male, Fatso, who is huge and a thug to boot. A pair of pied wagtails, Bobby and Betty, are about most of time, also a robin and a wren along with the usual assortment of starlings, sparrows, various tits and my favourites, a small flock (about 8)of long tailed tits.

It's the juvenile blackbird who's in charge though. He stalks the wagtails mercilessly and on occasion won't even let them land. He's always on patrol and flies at anything in his way even pecking at them if he's in that frame of mind. A fight over scrap sausage rolls a couple of days ago made interesting watching. The wagtails sit on the neighbour's roof until Fatso is occupied in another direction and then fly down and pounce quickly before he has a chance to turn round and lunge at them. Misty and Nelson watch from the kitchen window but even they don't go near which I suppose is good news for all the other birds too. Bobby and Betty are plucky too and venture right up to the patio window which make for some good observations. (Graham Catley has good picture of a wagtail on his site this week, go and have a look.)

No sign yet of any of my beloved siskins. Last winter we had 23 in the trees at the rear of the old garden but they were exceptional and normally I don't see any until well into New Year so there is hope yet. Meanwhile Fatso's in charge, with a vengeance!