Better late than never.
I have just watched ‘Roger and Val’ with Fred Molina and Dawn French. I think it is wonderfully funny, poignant, well written, tastefully acted and a must see. I even bothered to watch it on BBC iPlayer.
I am warming to ‘Grandma’s House’. Simon Anstells piece. The programme is easing into itself.
So now my Mondays are completely ruined with two lots of ‘Corrie’, ‘University Challenge’, ‘Grandma’s House’ and BBC iPLayer.
I cannot believe I have just told you my viewing habits, but it’s 23.15 and I was meant to be writing.
Jeni Barnett
Third Chapter here I come
I interviewed a writer who gets up at 5.00 every morning, writes for three hours, takes a walk on the Heath, then writes a bit here and there throughout the day.
I need to follow in her footsteps, but I am bushed. I am also lazy and frayed.
This evening I have homework to do, loads of books to read.
The saddle awaits.
The flat is awful quiet after three weeks away.
You would have thought that nearly a month in the country would have been peaceful and full of nightingales and cream teas
As it is I had thee weeks of hospitals, travelling to them and back again. Doctors, travelling from them to hospitals. Chemists travelling to them from the doctors before the hospitals.
Having to relax my rigidity has not been easy. Pre-back-op on August 7th, would have had me shouting the loudest about MRI scans, x-rays and rectal examinations. Post-back-op and I have nothing but admiration for the Kent and Sussex Hospital, Mr. Yo, Hurstwood Park Neurological Centre and their team of surgeons, not to mention the army of extrodinary men and women who nurse, clean, manage, help, laugh, comfort, calm, feed and mend hundreds of patients – including my daughter – who are ill, in pain, demanding and often old.
Operation operation…..
From osteopath to MRI. From MRI to hospital. From the fracture ward to the neurological centre. From the single room to the operating theatre. From 10.59 to 5.21 on the operating table. From Sunday without Morphine to Tuesday without Wolferine to Wednesday with a splint for the foot. If I hold my breath long enough … Read more
A Month in The Country
I did my work out after midnight. Groaning into the burn was a blessed release.
The cottage was sleeping. Bee, fitfully, Jim cautiously. I couldn’t rest. I set the alarm for 5.30.
Watching my daughter hobble, her dropped foot dragging along beside her, is heart breaking. Trying to imagine that everything is ok is a mission. Hearing the old git trying to stifle his pain is a double whammy. I am caught between my rock and her hard space.
Dealing with ones own pain is easy, dealing with somebody elses pain is draining, frustrating and exhausting.
I thank you all for your messages of support.
Get Well Soon
Whilst the world spins I am in a spin trying to get my daughter better. The old man’s back is mending but B’s foot is still dead. An MRI scan on Wednesday, and hospital consultations with Doctors who have about as much compassion as a frozen gerbil. All this makes for a fearful, tense time. … Read more
Fields of gold
Getting used to being in my home, as a holiday location, has been diffilcukl but actually easier than I thought.
The sky is low and heavy but the temperature is warm and calm. The old mans back is getting better by the day, but the daughter is in the most frightful pain. She has a dead leg, cant do anything very much, walking ,breathing, writing, everything is a difficult negotiation. BUT we have the best people working on her and all being well by the weekend she will be standing up straight and feeling her foot again.
Not being able to heal her instanty is hard for me as I am Mrs. Fix-It. So it’s a lesson in patience for us all.
Back to basics
The old git’s chipped a bone on his spine. Knackered his back.
The daughter has trapped a nerve, knackered her back.
The mother has scarred her lung, knackered her back.
Back to back problems which had me feeling desolate.
I stood one-legged on my wobble cushion this morning, its meant to strengthen the ankle, gazing at the’oosbind who was still asleep. He’s spent the last four nights on the armchair in the sitting room his back too bad for him to lie down in the bed.
I stared at him and thought how were we going to holiday in France with him being so broken.
Caterpillar smoothie
It’s Saturday in London. Somehow the energy always feels different to a weekday. The sky is a hard blue with brillo-pad clouds. I’ve done my exercises, pulling in my stomach as best I can after a night of flax crackers. I’ve tidied my bedroom. Put the washing in. Made a smoothie of kale, chard and … Read more
Oy Story 1
This morning I left early. I put on white trousers, that are now way to big, a white t-shirt that within two minutes was smeared with lipstick whilst putting it over my head, my Nike Free 3 trainers that make my feet smell like a rotten silage barn, and a Moschino jacket that now fits me. I bought it 8 years ago in a designer sale in Debenhams. It has come right back into fashion….
I had a lime green bag swung over my shoulder, I think it belonged to an ex-lodger, at least I don’t remember buying it and I was ready for anything.
I got to St. Mary’s Church by the river and there they were.
20 geese a gawking. Looking out over the Thames, waiting for something to happen. Their heads turned in every direction of the compass. I worried in case it was an odd number thinking if geese pair for life and there’s only 19 somebody has copped it.
As it turned out my 20 geese were all in tact. Preening themselves, paddling about and generally looking like they belonged.