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!

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.