Normal service may be resumed.....

next week sometime.

After an exhausting telephone marathon yesterday with my ISP and BT I think maybe I got some answers. BT especially were a hard nut to crack, particularly, and I don't want to sound racist here, as the call person was from the Indian sub-continent and I could barely understand a word she said. She wasn't able to understand me either and eventually got quite irate when I asked to speak to the engineers or whatever that service is called these days. After a protracted discussion about why I couldn't speak with 'the ingenious man' I suddenly realised that it was actually the engineers I was not able to speak to. I DID understand that BT were not able to help and were not even able to provide someone I could talk to who understood exactly what the problem was, due not to a difficult technical problem but more a question of semantics and pronunciation.

Having friends from several ethnic backgrounds and normally considering myself as pretty tolerant I begin to get rather annoyed when a previous corner stone of our society is being run from another country entirely. I spent 17 minutes on the phone when in fact the call should have taken no longer than 5.

That settled I then tried the ISP, their centre I think is in Dublin and certainly all the, again protracted, automated system messages are in a heavy Irish accent. I finally pressed my 8th choice of options and was connected to an African with a very heavy accent. He was kind polite and helpful was easier to talk to than the uptight Asian I had earlier. Whether or not his information was correct remains to be seen, either way it wouldn't be his fault.

In Brief

The move went OK. The phone line was moved but not the broadband and we won't have it for at least another 3 weeks. Dial up is like wading through treacle, very slow and a right pain so my time here will be very limited and mostly confined to reading.

Steg, I'm following in your footsteps!

All packed up and ready to go

Well not quite but getting there. It's amazing how much stuff I have accumulated over the last 23 years. Considering I was half packed last October, this week I have moved an incredible amount of boxes, most of it single handed ad therefore rather slowly. WH of course has most pressing work elsewhere even to the point of doing a favour for someone last night and working until 10pm. This did not go down too well with me as you might guess. With no kitchen, not even a temporary one as yet, and no proper bathroom, we have a lot to do before Friday.

At least the office is all set up and reasonably shipshape. All I have to do is move the pc and connect to the internet when the phone line is switched on Friday. It sounds simple but I bet it won't be. Meanwhile I have a couple of new bookcases to assemble and a tv stand. Of course you can do them I was told, you did the last lot. OK, OK but that was 26 years ago.

So tomorow my lovely helper Ms T is coming again for some serious kitchen packing and the we get to move it all down the road and annoy the depressed painter whilst we unpack it all again in the new place. Getting it all to fit will be no mean feat as only half the place is habitable as yet. The rest as they say is still a work is progress.

Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and guess what?

Don Wayne Reno signed it. Just for me.

Watch him here at Holmfirth the following night. Just as well we didn't get to see Dale Reno in his undies at Mansfield on Saturday, might have made me blush!

Reality check - pinch me if I'm dreaming

We finally cleared the new house of tools and rubbish last night prior to the carpet fitter arriving this morning. We now have painted bedrooms, all the light fittings and curtain rails. I am just about to load my car with all the stuff I need to clean windows, wipe down doors and paintwork and hang curtains. After 16 months it barely seems real. My stallwort friend and lifesaver T is arriving later to help. What I would have done this last twelve months without her support I do not know. OK she started as the 'hired help' but as in all the best stories she's now a part of the family and a great friend to boot.

My other 'dream' scenario is my energy level. Over the weekend I moved a lot of bricks and some builders sand which I was sick of seeing. Since then I have cleaned as though my life depended on it. I keep waiting for the crash and it doesn't come. Even 6 months ago I could not have done all this, so now I am testing myself daily to see how much more I can do. The results are amazing not just me but everyone around. For this I have to thank my Lovely Lyme Doc and his faith in my treatment.

And just to put the icing on the cake of this upbeat post, the nightingale has arrived and is singing not 20 metres from my window. What a joy.

It's the final countdown

Just 12 days to go until the big move. I'll be going from a place of undeniable comfort to somewhere with no kitchen and a temporary bathroom. That's the least of my worries. I'm now wondering how WH and his gang are going to fare moving us in my absence, I have a long standing engagement elsewhere and will be awol on the big day. I'm sure they'll be fine and get a great job done, whether I can ever find anything again remains to be seen.

Psychiatrists play God - Again.

Cartoon unashamedly pinched from Dr Speedy's Nice Blog

NHS Blogdoctor is on the case again, this time railing against the influence Psychiatrists have on the NHS in a post with a wider theme, that of the Rise of the Healthcare Professionals.

This quote from the Times yesterday (26.06.08) particularly took my eye:

People suffering from mental illness are frequently being misdiagnosed or receiving inadequate treatment, according to a group of leading psychiatrists. The doctors say that patients with serious problems are often referred to psychologists and social workers rather than clinicians and do not receive the medical therapies they need.

“If a GP suspected a patient had cancer, he wouldn't dream of referring him to anybody other than a cancer specialist. A cancer patient might need jollying along, but what he really needs is the correct diagnosis and treatment. That's what he gets from a specialist. But patients with mental illness are not automatically referred to psychiatrists. If they only see a social worker, there's every chance that mental illness, or underlying physical illness, will be missed. Patients are getting a bum deal.” (Professor Nick Craddock)

Now substitute the words 'mental illness' with ME. See what I mean? Looks like now the psychiatrists are too busy treating people with ME, which of course as we all know is 'all in the mind', to be bothered to treat their own patients.

Education in the kindergarten

My back garden has been renamed the nursery right now. Baby birds of all descriptions are vying for position on the feeders, teetering on the edge of branches and pestering their poor parents to death. At first it was the blue tits which caught our attention, six babies and their two extremely harassed parents, flew wobblingly from washing line to willow tree in turns. There were lots of crash landings and several false starts. Goggins lying in the sun on his favourite chair looked up, puzzled. He seemed to be saying 'Did I chase those once? Should I remember what they are? Are they something I should be interested in? Never mind I'll just go back to sunbathing.' The babies didn't know about cats anyway and just ignored him too. Even I stood less than 3 feet away and they just looked at me as though I was some sort of mobile perch.

Next up came the sparrows. Their training ground was fence to washing line, washing line to magnolia, magnolia to fence. 'Whoa there, maybe I'll try a suet feeder. Missed it, Oh OK I was really trying for the mock orange. Overshot that, OK, fence it is then." Their parents found a ready supply of kid-sized meals on the suet feeder and flew backwards and forwards from feeder to gaping mouth all day long.

The greenfinches were in hiding lest Misty and Nelson should find them. Apparently my wayward cats prefer the taste of greenfinch, or at least they did last year. So far this year there have been no catches at all, my tellings-off must have done some good. When temptation got the better of them, the greenfinches too brought the family to feast at the all night diner. More aggressive then the sparrows, they dislodged them and ruled supreme for a few hours until their arch rivals the starlings flew in.

Starlings, now that's another proposition entirely. Since they appeared, the garden resembles Saturday night at a rough wedding reception. They don't fight the other birds however, the stupid starlings fight amongst their own family. Drunk , or overstuffed with peanuts and suet, they squabble, taunt, push and shove. The noise is amazing, you'd think from the sound there were fifty out there, but no there are only 5 at the most. The parents try to bring them into line but their wayward children peck them instead. squawking and hissing and flying at each other. Then a fight between three of them breaks out and away they fly in winged combat, leaving the feeders in peace, just right for the little coal tits to fly in, grab a nut and retreat to the top of the willow before the angry starlings return.

In the midst of this mayhem, the goldfinches swing on the niger feeders and watch everything. No one else likes their food so they're happy. Well mannered and cheerful they ignore the rest of the rabble and twitter to each other companionably. Two little siskins too remain from the flock which arrived in late December, they must be breeding here but no sign of any babies yet.

It's been a real education this year, more babies than we have ever seen. It's hard to believe that 23 years ago no bird ever visited, there were no trees, no cover and certainly no free food. poignant then that this will be my last season in this garden. The new one awaits, barren and cheerless save for a lone robin who defends his territory from the apple tree. Time to make some changes then and ensure that next years babies are just as well fed.

To Let

I just knew it was too good to be true. My much longed-for, stress relieving, poorly managed property let has fallen through. In fact I am now told it was a non starter at the outset. So why did it take the agent 4 days to tell me?

Answer being he is hopeless. What to do now, that's the question, leave it with the second, even worse agent or move the agency again? On the one hand it might be third time lucky. On the other it's all so much hassle.

After 23 years I am sick of sight of this house, the sooner I am out the better, at least round the corner I won't have to see it, even if it now remains empty for a while. At least I will be spared the awful cleaning up for viewings I have endured over the last 12 months of letting, selling, then letting again. So I'm still moving folks, but I'll still have the worry (and the bills) of this place.

Peaches, Pelion and English Pubs.

Sinking my teeth into a juicy peach from my latest grocery delivery I noticed that they had come from Greece. This lead me to thinking about last year's holidays and driving round the peach orchards in the Koropi area of Pelion. The smell was fantastic although we wouldn't have been able to scrump any if we'd wanted to, all the trees being behind 2 metre high wire netting fencing. We did buy loads from road-side stalls however and peaches were the dessert of the day, every day, at our bolt-hole in Kalamos.

I'm missing Kalamos a lot. Even our recent trip to Corfu hasn't deadened the ache. It's probably all made worse by the fact we can't go back to that actual little villa, the owner needs it for his own growing family now they have fled the nest and will be using it for weekend visits in the same way as all the the other local houses are used.

We also both miss Argalasti, where we often found ourselves in the dying light of the day, sitting in the square with a hundred other families, lazily eating dinner or sipping the local sour cherry juice. It was noisy and boisterous. Whole families of locals sitting at adjoining tavernas, shouting at each other as only the Greeks know how. Just imparting a bit of local news has all the outward signs of an impending argument to English eyes. All the children played in the central part of the square watched over by parents of all descriptions. The younger ones ran round the tables and screamed, the older group played a kind of Greek 'What's the time Mr Wolf'' lead by two precocious 10 year old girls who both wanted to be in charge. Young teens hung around on the outside of the gathering, giggling in the shadows, the boys taunting the girls and tinkering with bicycle gears, the girls posing on the walls and looking coy. A short distance away the late teens sat outside the Gyros Pita takeaway, eating, laughing, smoking and listening to loud music, breaking rank occasionally to hail friends roaring past on mopeds. Everyone knew each other. News was imparted and confidences picked over, meals were shared and served out by the elders, children were called to eat and stuffed with fish and bread, only to run off again cramming their mouths with chips as they went. The men collectively sighed over football results and the local elections, old established positions reinforced. Diatribes on the state of the nation given by old men, ouzo glass in one hand, cigarette in the other as they shared plates of octopus, olives and hard cheese. All the time the kids ran round, one fell over and four mothers rose as one to comfort the injured party, two more speaking harshly to the unfortunate scamp who had pushed him.

We love it there, every night this place comes alive as the whole community comes together as one body to enjoy the warm evenings. Contrast this then with last night in our local pub here. A fine Sunday night in the only pub in the village. It was near empty, a sanitised version of 'Ye Olde English' with formica, Farrow and Ball and Madonna on the stereo. We chose from a menu which has not changed for at least 20 years other than the addition of pre-packed chicken curry. Our fellow inhabitants of the lounge were a family having a sort of mini reunion, some lived here, others had moved away. We did know them all but they preferred not to mix outside their own group, speaking in hushed tones lest we should hear what they had to say. They kept themselves to themselves and so did we, not wishing to be seen to be intruding. Across the counter a glimpse of the other room, the bar, usually inhabited by the youth of the area. Two chaps in their 30's sat baiting the usually terse landlord. Suddenly a loud voice from an unseen other, "When did Sunday night in the pub get to be so bloody quiet? And boring." There was no answer. We finished our meal and left, there was nothing to keep us there.

That's the sort of time I miss Greece the most and this year, especially, Kalamos and Argalasti. I've got to go back, permanently. Watch this space.

PS Blogger formatting seems to be playing up AGAIN. If this post looks odd it's them not me, honest.

On the move

It's official, after 12 months of total insecurity, disillusionment with the housing situation and the inability to sell my house, I'm actually moving. In less than 3 weeks.

After having very poor service from my letting agent yesterday I called them up to give them the proverbial rocket. Just as I was about to fire them completely, they actually decided to ring the lady who had viewed last week and get some feedback. Wow, some feedback! She wanted it and had been unable to contact them. So I do have a tenant after all. Really she wanted to move in by July 1st. Given that is only 10 days away I postponed until 14th. So yesterday afternoon finds me buying carpets for a whole house, re-jigging schedules and chasing the depressed painter and the singing plasterer. WH press-ganged his usual support team for the move itself.

This weekend I am away at a show and in 2 weeks time we are both off on a jolly involving those Hayseed Boys, some relatives and meeting a close and much treasured friend in person. That gives me one weekend to pack the house and the other one to move. We have no kitchen and no bathroom at the new place so we'll be camping for a while.

One thing is certain, it's going to be busy round here.

Braindead

I don't have the brain power right now for a lengthy post, suffice to say I am probably busier than I have been for the entire last twenty years. Last weekend I was at a marathon festival locally, it didn't rain and the weather was almost pleasant. It could have done with being a tad warmer but otherwise it was OK. Now I have the clearing up, a house which looks like a bomb site and WH's dreaded VAT to do. We *might* be actually moving house shortly too. Now there's a thing. More news on this later. Tomorrow we will have owned our second house a whole twelve months, it would be nice to live in it sometime.

All this and I am actually feeling reasonably well. Tired maybe but not that desperate bone crushing, nerve tingling, fiery pain I had for so long. I've been off my treatment for almost 3 months now and things are definitely looking up. I'm well on my way to a 3 stone weight loss too, necessitating some serious clothes shopping. My new hobby perhaps, but right now I just don't have the time.

If I could just slow down I might come to appreciate that feeling of doing stuff, wells loads of stuff really, and afterwards feeling, well, OK. It's taken me almost 16 years to achieve this and I want to savour every moment.

More snippets from last week

"I'm singing you my butterfly sitting in the car song" - Grandaughter aged 4.

We found a dormouse living in an olive tree in the garden.

In a restaurant the waiter insisted in calling me Momma. Was it my size or my organisation skills which prompted that? Or maybe because I paid the bill, for 11.

Grandaughter managed to turn upside down in her inflatable in the pool. "I forgot my arm bands wasn't I silly?" Dad jumped in fully clothed and hauled her out whilst the assembled group breathed a huge sigh of relief. Daughter 3 remarked he had managed to preserve his cigarette which was still between his lips. "Well you try and relight that then".

Asking for a 'Greek' breakfast in San Stephanos we were offered 'Full English' full stop. What on earth is going on?

Two cats spent the night on a chair outside my window. They hung around for breakfast and shared a lizard. After that we never saw them again.

Collecting the hire cars we were given the keys in order of the driver's name. 4 days later we discovered we were all driving the wrong cars! Note to self: In future check the documents as well, even if they are in Greek.

One whole watermelon is just about big enough for 11 people for a whole week. The pips get everywhere though.

In 30 degree heat I can walk and walk and walk. And swim and swim and swim. Am I better than I was? You bet.

What I did on my holidays

Went on a glass bottomed boat.

Watched the sun rise, twice.

Listened to scops owls.

Ate chicken souvlaki at a restaurant I hadn't been to for 8 years and it still tasted the same.

Swam at Sidari beach and it really is the warmest water in Greece.

Went lizard hunting with the Grandkids.

Watched a young jay drink from our pool.

Taught some of the Grandkids how to hold a crab.

Ate hot cheese dip and crackers.

Sat 2 hours in a restaurant waiting for a power cut to end. Dinner never tasted so good.

Watched my 3 stepdaughters giggling and laughing together like they hadn't for years and years.

Went to Mouse Island and Pontikonisi.

Sat on the Liston with a frappe and people watched.

Saw a Grandad with the biggest smile ever.

Fell asleep to the sound of waves on pebbles.

Snatches of conversations

"Nanny, can I have a oghurt and semonade to drink?"

"All the little houses are getting bigger and bigger through this window"

"Is that a shark or a sardine?"

"I've turned some stones over there, I looked under some here as well, and do you know what Nanny? There aren't ANY pigging crabs"

" Ugh, it's all antsies and they're carrying their Magnix all over"....."Yes I know they look like eggs, I just said, they've got their Magnix"

"Well he can just put that big lobster down and show someone else, I don't want to see it."

"Of course I tried some new food, I had 4 sorts of hotdogs and funny bread, so that's five."

"Do you know, Denmark and Germany get all their electricity from windchimes."

"I'm so brave I'm going to jump in that stream and catch a turtle right now. Oh no I don't think I will, it's all slimy"

"I'm going to live here for ever, well if I can bring my own bed and a tv"

"Aunty, you can just get straight back in that pool and come out the proper way. BY THE STEPS, right."

The holiday is over, now the memories start.

Grandad's holiday

Tomorrow we head for Corfu. All 11 of us. It has seemed like a military operation to organise this even more so at the last minute. I think I've got all bases covered but you never know.

WH has finally finished work and has started the wind-down, chill out phase. His grin is getting bigger and he can't wait to show the Grandkids all the things he loves about being abroad. So far it looks like our hunch paid off, it WILL be the best way to celebrate his milestone birthday. He doesn't like receiving presents, he doesn't do parties with their false gaiety and little awkwardnesses, he has no need of the usual trappings of Grandfather status, over-priced trinkets, mementos and and men's gifts. He's a giver not a receiver. A shared experience is what he would have chosen for himself.

To mark this special trip Middle Daughter and I spent a whole day designing and printing t-shirts for the whole party. A bit silly possibly, but we wanted the 4 smallest ones to have a tangible reminder of this week. The daughters themselves went to Florida when they were similar ages and all 3 still have all their keepsakes, aged Disney t-shirts and childish 'souvenirs'. They can still tell you what they did from day to day on that long 6 week adventure, about the crabs that ran over their feet in the dark, the beach picnics, the English restaurant with Roast beef and having Strawberries for breakfast. Although I wasn't part of their lives then, that came just a year later, I feel like I was there. I've seen the videos, the photographs and been proudly shown all the treasures, again and again and again.

Hopefully this next 7 days will make some new memories to treasure and some which the next generation will remember with such excitement. So if you're off to Corfu this next week and you see a shortish chap wearing zany outfits and a huge grin with 4 little kids hanging on his every word, you'll know, Grandad is finally on his 'special' holiday.

A trio of birds and some badgers.

It's getting really wild around here and I don't just mean the weather. Last night I saw the local badgers nosing round my car again. I had heard from a neighbour that they were back again, her pampas grass had disappeared overnight and was trailed across her garden and round past the shed to hole in the stream bank 10m away. I haven't seen them for about 18 months but obviously that set is still in use. I'll have to try and get up about 2am again tonight to watch them although I was going to get some sugar puffs to put out for them but I forgot. I'm hoping the sugar puffs might lure them slightly more into the light away from the garage wall so they can be seen more easily.

Another oddity is that after going nightingale watching several evenings recently, the last time with the grandkids in tow as well, we now have a resident one at the bottom of our road camped out in a huge fir tree. I have lived here for 23 years and the birds here generally have vastly increased in numbers but I have never heard a nightingale here at home until now. Middle daughter and I spotted him on Sunday through the binoculars although he has been around since last Thursday. All that fuss to drive a couple of miles to go and listen to one and I can lie in bed at 5am and hear one plain as anything.

We have a strange jackdaw too. These have been increasing year on year and last year we had one with a distinctly craoky off-key voice. He seems to have returned again, or maybe he was silent all winter, so now we get this strange almost honking noise from about 7am. I know it IS a jackdaw as I have watched him through the bins too.

The third 'new' bird are flycatchers who sit on the telephone wires at the back of the house and then do a lovely tumbling display catching their next meal. They appear to be nesting in the eaves of a house in that direction and though I have looked for the fledglings I haven't seen any yet.

Either this spring is distinctly odd or else this village has suddenly become a magnet for a great influx of wild life.

Eurovision

WH missed his favourite TV programme of the whole year last night whilst were dining with friends locally. On our (slightly tipsy) return we had to look at the Eurovision Song Contest website and see who had won and listen to the top 3 songs. Today he's going to download it from BBCi and watch the whole thing. Personally I preferred the song which came second, the Ukranian entry and thought that should have won, but no doubt I will be regaled with WH's judgement later in the day.

I have long learned to live with his slightly odd-ball (well in the UK, the rest of Europe LOVES it) obsession with this annual bunfight which was brought to a head the year we watched it in a beach taverna in Lefkada. Greece won that year and the whole island went crazy with firecrackers and guns going off, free drinks and a general riot of celebration. The highlight of WH's viewing is however the commentary by an increasingly inebriated and out spoken Mr Wogan. Now Sir Terry has suggested that he might not be covering it again as he dislikes what he sees as the political slant to the voting.

Life will never be the same again.

Two week rule part 2

WH got his appointment through yesterday for his urgent test. 24th June. You will recall his GP referred him under the Two Week Rule as his symptoms were consistent with a possible cancer. This will be 45 days since he presented with those symptoms.

This is the NHS's own statement on the subject, taken from their document 'Choose and book: implementation guidance for urgent referrals for suspected cancer two week waits'

2.1 The two week wait standard
The two week wait (2WW) standard for all
cancers was introduced in 2000 and guarantees
that everyone with suspected cancer referred
urgently by their GP will be able to see a
specialist within two weeks. It is an important
milestone to achieving the 62-day target from
urgent referral for suspected cancer to first
definitive treatment, set in the NHS Cancer Plan.
Compliance with the 2WW standard has been
achieved for some time, and Trusts are now
focusing on consistent delivery of the 62-day
standard.
(my italics)

Oh no, not in this area seemingly. The NHS has done us proud once again. WH now has to wait another 4 weeks until he has this test, with all the attendant problems, worry, lack of efficient pain medication, lack of sleep etc etc. Once again the patient is the last consideration.

I don't think Alan Johnson would be looking so smug if that were him.

Two week rule, don't make me laugh, I'm already crying

The NHS apparently has a two week rule that means that if you present to your GP with some new, serious, possibly cancer-related symptom, you get tested and see an 'expert' within 2 weeks. 3 weeks ago WH did just that. Although the GP thought there was a slight chance of it being related to medications he is taking, nevertheless he was referred immediately for an endoscopy to have his gut checked out and stopped from taking any of his regular medication.

Seeing another doctor in the practice last week about another maybe-related-symtom and being in excrucuiating pain with the lack of pain relief, this guy also expressed surprise that the endoscopy had not been carried out. He promised to chase it urgently. On Monday two phone calls from different practice nurses had WH rushing to the surgery for a consult about yet another new medication. Again the GP was astonished that the endoscopy had still not been carried out and said she would chase it immediately. Now 3 days later WH still hasn't heard anything, and still can't take any arthritis medication which is leaving him is severe pain and unable to sleep at night.

I know the NHS is strapped for cash and I know that many doctors are unconvinced that this system is any good but does anyone consider the poor old patient? We go on holiday in 8 days, a holiday planned specifically for WH's enjoyment. WH has been told he has a potentially serious condition and needs an urgent test. He hasn't had the urgent test, can't take his usual meds so is feeling 10 times worse than usual and there is no apparent end in sight. The prospect of a holiday with 10 other people whilst feeling in this state is not appealing to him, never mind the worry of 'What ifs'.

Once again the NHS has caused this family no end of grief and is threatening to ruin our holiday of a lifetime.