Z's fine, but how are you?

 Srsly, this is all getting a bit much.  It started with M's planned foot operation, so just a bit of hospital driving there.  But that friend hadn't had quite enough drama and became bored after a few weeks, so she climbed on a stool to put something on top of the wardrobe ... and then couldn't get down, so she jumped.  One foot in a splint and a surgical boot, the other knee in a brace.

Another friend had a new hip after a fall, more than a year ago and it's never quite been the same since, but she somehow jarred the other hip and now can hardly walk.

Mother of the bride in the Mexican wedding back in March has broken her hip.  It was the smallest fall, but an awkward landing and she has been in hospital for a fortnight, because she already had other complications, as well as very low blood pressure.

Friend in America has a dropped foot, following some nerve damage during a tricky back operation (that op was a success, but recovery is taking a while).

Kent schoolfriend fell off a stool while hanging up the washing and hurt her wrist, which had been broken while she was in Italy earlier this year.  It's okay, she's had it checked, but she's bruised and in pain.

Then it got worse, because my friend who had a stroke back in February has died.  It was unexpected, though his condition had deteriorated in the past few months, since he left rehab.

And a friend of Wink's, down where she used to live, died today.  Zellah must have been at least 90, but she always seemed to be at least 15 years younger.  Wink saw her back in the summer, after a break of a few years, which she's glad of, but she's very upset.

Wink is hoping to visit her Indian friend in the spring, but the daughter says, carefully, to buy a refundable ticket.  So we're rather bracing ourselves.

We're fine, thanks for asking, but it's all getting rather nerve-wracking.  We're wondering what the next bad news will be.

Bless us, every one

 Nothing gets less complicated.

We were taking friends to the local theatre to see a one-man performance of A Christmas Carol.  I love this story.  You might think it's mawkish (God bless us, every one) but it really isn't.  It's lovely.  It's kind and true and heartfelt and, though I recognise that I'm getting more sentimental as I get older, I'm holding to that.  It says that people matter most and I know that's true.

Having said that, one has to know that oneself is a person.  Sometimes, everyone comes before oneself and that isn't good.

After the CC, our friend came home for the night - she was in an even worse state than the last time we saw her wearing her surgical boot.  She'd managed to mash the other knee too.  I won't go further, except to say that, when she said it had been her own fault, we didn't argue.

I have car problems.  Not saying more about that as yet - if ever - because I don't want to raise my blood pressure with a rant.

Other stuff too, including a message from the person who was going to cut the roadside hedge last week, to say his tractor was out of action and he couldn't do it.  I'm a bit dismayed and trying to find someone else.  And the guy clearing the beck pointed out that he couldn't clear round 'that' tree, covered in ivy, because it's plainly dead and, if it falls one way it'd go onto electricity cables and, on the opposite, onto phone cables.  There are two other directions, so I've asked friend Rob for advice.  I have Tom up my sleeve.

Today, more Stuff and then I went to the weekly antiques talk.  I had several calls - luckily, I hadn't forgotten to silence my phone.  But I didn't get back to S. until 3 pm - she's the daughter of Pam and Peter, whom I've mentioned.  Peter had a serious stroke back in February and they moved to a care home a few weeks ago.  Unexpectedly, Peter has died - that is, I had sadly recognised that he would not live all that long, but not that he was so ill.  But he hated the thickener that he had to have with drinks and avoided it whenever he wasn't watched and, getting liquid into his lungs as a consequence had caused pneumonia.  I have no comment on whether that should have been picked up, because I genuinely don't know.  But he was too frail for breathing problems.  

As soon as I spoke to their daughter, I went over to visit Pam.  I stayed until Susie arrived.  I've emailed her with good advice (re funeral etc) but said she's welcome to ignore it, which I mean.  Russell died just over three weeks before Ronan's wedding and three days before a holiday weekend, so I had to crack on with arrangements.  It's no disrespect.

Another friend texted me yesterday to say that she broke her hip a fortnight ago and is still in hospital.  I plan to visit in the morning.

Another friend, with several health problems, has now told me that she may have cancer and is having tests shortly.  I'll email her next.

If you have been, thanks for listening.  And if you are relatively well, as I am, let us all be grateful and help those who aren't.  

Z waffles as if it's the old days

I felt a little alarmed when I realised the date.  But the C-word date is inexorable and it doesn't really matter whether I feel ready for it or not.  In any case, I've got a social life to sort out before that.  Today, we're having lunch with friends in Norwich - they're really my sister's friends, but I'm the driver of the family and so she can't go without me.  My car is back in the garage, though.  

For some months, various warning signs came up when I started it.  These were just notifications that alerts didn't work - but they did, so it was evidently the warnings that were faulty.  It started up as an occasional fault and then increased in frequency, but it took me a while to get around to having it looked at.  Finally, it was sorted out in September except for one, which was about the electric traction system and that notification, it seems, was a known fault and would be replaced free.  Six weeks later, the part finally came in and I was lent a car while mine was being dealt with.  The replacement car was enormous.  Both much wider and longer than mine, also electric - it was actually a pleasure to drive, but I felt ostentatious and was glad when I returned it.  It was also a problem to park, as it needed so much space.  But it has been good not to have warnings pop up any more - until Friday evening, when it happened again.  So I phoned the garage - this time, someone came over to fetch the car, so I'll use the other one when we go out.  So nice to have the car picked up, just like the old days when lovely Graham from Charlish's used to offer.

However, we've had a lot of frost since I last drove the BMW and I'm not quite used to a reliable battery on it, so I think I'm going to take it for a spin now, rather than risk having to jump start it when we're due to leave.  I hope that 'spin' won't be literal, as - for complicated reasons that I'm sure I've explained before - it has summer tyres on it, so I don't usually take it out much in winter, though last night's frost has lifted.

I'll have time for shopping when we get to Friday afternoon, I think.  I wonder what people would like?

Ladies who lunch

 My mother and a group of friends used to meet for lunch once a month in Norwich and this has kept going, as a semi-formal club, since 1988.  Now, I drive several friends there, who are of an age to have given up driving.  

I told the tale once of, at about this time of year, asking Jo what she and her sister Lilian were doing for Christmas.  "We're going to die over Christmas," she said casually.  I blinked.  "Say that again, darling?" "We're going to Di for Christmas," she repeated.  "Oh, that's lovely," I said, while Rose, in the back of the car, tried not to laugh (she's been laughing about it ever since, though).  Anyway, Jo did die in the end, of covid, in December 2020 but I still drive Lilian over for lunch - she's now about 97.  I also drive Diane, who is 89.  Both still very sharp of mind, but becoming sadly prone to anecdotage.  

I woke up just after 6.30 this morning, which was an excellent time to sleep to, but my pleasure lasted less than a minute before I realised I was developing the aura of a migraine.  Luckily, I knew I had some pills in the next room - I usually keep them in my handbag, for emergencies - and went straight to get them, then stayed in bed until they worked.  But I did feel a bit out of sorts all day, so perhaps that's why the same stories they talk about every month were a little harder to take this time.  I nodded and smiled and responded in all the right places as usual, but my heart wasn't in it.  

But there was good news this evening.  Another of our number found a lump on her jaw and, as she had been treated last year for cancer, this was very worrying and she had plainly assumed that today's tests would bring bad news - she'd given permission for us all to be told.  But Doreen phoned this evening to tell us that Ann has rung her to say it's just a cyst.  It's just a cyst, nothing more.  So maybe I'd been grieving, in advance of expected bad news and that also fed my irritation.  Luckily, I hadn't shown it.

All the stories are good the first time, but not necessarily the 50th.  All the same, I feel churlish.

Z almost feels optimistic, but that's always a mistake. Realistic mild pessimism is safer

 I think I'm making progress.  The trouble with a to-do list is that new things keep coming along that have to take priority, so it's not so easy to keep track.  But I have done a few things that have been hanging over me for a long time, so there's some satisfaction there.  I've actually got a more complicated life than one might think to look at me and I can't always cope, even with essential business stuff that, if left, gets more complex.  Anyway, I'm cautiously satisfied with progress over the last week or two.

Today, a friend had invited us over to see his lovely china collection - there were four guests altogether and probably I was the most involved with china, though we all appreciated it.  He's been collecting since 1963 - his wife has collections too, mostly antique fabrics and costumes.  They are lovely, very hospitable and we enjoyed the morning very much.  Then this evening, I went to the next village's gardening club for a talk about bulbs from a very knowledgeable man from Lincolnshire, who's won lots of national awards for daffodils and whose company has huge expertise in bulbs, corms, rhizomes, tubers and whatever other bulb-esque things there are.  

The company I'd written to at 5.15pm with a query replied at 8.15pm, which was very impressive.  Another company, in a similar field, that had been excellent a few years ago, required two emails for every reply, so they have lost out on quite a lot of business from me as a consequence. 

Tomorrow, a lecture in Norwich about the period, 100+ years ago, when Russian and European monarchies were collapsing and their jewellery was bought by wealthy Americans.  Then lunch, then a hospital appointment for Wink.  She is incredibly stoical about her eyesight problems, for which she is getting exemplary treatment by the hospital in Norwich.  The NHS gets plenty of flak, some of which is deserved but, at its best, it's still superb, caring and proactive.  I'm very grateful for my good eyesight - I get my eyes tested annually to be sure that any (so far non-existent) problems are picked up early - another thank you to the NHS, which pays for it.

Thursday, a monthly lunch with friends, when we pick up several people who no longer drive, Friday is the very entertaining antiques club - yes, we're all fairly antique ourselves, but we are regaled with a lecture on, this term, porcelain, by a fabulous and very knowledgeable chap, every week.  And then home to wait for Glen to fit the last bit of kitchen flooring - he ran out of materials for underneath the dishwasher.

Craig is still mending the roof.  No more water is running down the walls.  I have not yet washed the streaks off the walls. Maybe tomorrow, but more likely on Friday.

I went to the greengrocer for tomatoes, became excited and spent £32.01.  It's a good thing that I don't often buy clothes and other extravagances.  

Fridge soup

 For no reason that I could think of, I wanted to cook today.  So I've made two batches of vegetable soup and a tomato and onion sauce.  Usefully, I've used up most of the vegetables in the fridge and, as I've frozen most of the soup, I can eat straight out of the freezer for a while.  Not that I couldn't have already.  Trouble is with turning out freezers is that you find things that you'd conveniently forgotten - such as the shin of beef that I took out and made into a casserole for Thursday night.  We had a friend coming to stay for the night.  So the three of us ate it on Thursday - and I've frozen five more helpings.  I also made mashed potatoes (and other vegetables, of course) and I'm still eating those.  Tonight, I made a potato cake and fried it, serving it with sugar snap peas, sprouts, the tomato sauce and two fried eggs.  

Ever since reading about someone's granny who, apparently, asked what were man get out peas, I've been unable to think of mange tout or sugar snap peas as anything else.  

I like playing with words, but it was my father who enjoyed mangling sayings or aphorisms or proverbs, or any sort of phrase.  When things turn unexpectedly crowded, with a queue of people turning up at the house, I think "close the doors, they're coming through the windows," though it's completely meaningless - which, I suppose, it what appeals.  "Fingers were made before thumbs" is true, but not the actual saying.  "In and out the windows, like Uncle Weewee did" was a family anecdote, so perhaps it doesn't count.

I was reminded of him the other day.  I was typing up a probate valuation - the helpful family member had typed out the description of the china, so I only had to add a few details and the prices - and he'd not found it easy to make out his late mother's writing and had, at one point, typed 'coronation' for 'carnation.'  Which reminded me of an election day, when Daddy had said, "with a liberal amount of labour, we'll put the coronations in the conservative".  And that's not, now I look at it, any sort of anecdote about him at all, unless you know that Mr Weavers, our gardener, was a Mrs Malaprop of his day.  And he'd talked about doing just that; potting up the carnations to save them from the oncoming frost.  Eh.  You had to be there.  Maybe I'll remember his other straight-faced funnies and they'll actually mean something to other people.

There's always another rainbow, as Ogden Nash put it

 Wince called round this morning and he's told me that there's been an outbreak of avian flu within ten miles of here.  The chickens are all kept in their run now of course, but I think I will keep them in the smaller area, though they won't be pleased with me.  I had a new henhouse built, nearly ten years ago and the outside run is about 3 metres square, or 10 feet if you're of that persuasion (of course, the measurements don't exactly equate but I don't know which is closer) and I've got an extension to that, same width and twice as long.  But the wire netting on top of the larger area is bigger and small birds can fly through - certainly their droppings could drop through.  When I went to say goodnight to them just now, I fed them mealworms and then nipped round to shut off the doorway, but bindweed had grown over and I couldn't remove it.  I had to go back into the main run and pull the weed away, by which time a couple of bantams had ambled through again.  So I've left it.  I may remember later or I'll do it tomorrow.

I don't legally have to shut them in, in fact, as I don't sell the eggs (I wouldn't be allowed to give them away either, if I did let them free range) but the last thing I want to do is risk them being ill.  I've only got 8 left and I've started to pass the word round that I'd give a good home to a young cockerel.

Since dear old Scrabble's death at the age of 10, a fox has killed two more, so I wasn't going to let them out anyway and I am considering a simple way to enlarge the outdoor run for next year.  It doesn't matter how big their run is, they eat the grass down to the roots and all they have is a dusty or muddy patch.  

I don't suppose I'll mention the kitchen situation again until it's finally completed and that will be a fortnight or more yet.  I will wait until I see J in person before having a frank discussion - he'd been on leave because he was moving house and it's apparent that no one picked up the reins and a new door is being awaited, but that's because they sent the wrong size in the first place.  A should have reported this as soon as he realised, two months ago.  I'm not discussing it on the phone or by email.  And I honestly can't be bothered to explain myself here either.  I'm so very despondent and this is a place to be upbeat.

I was going to order a new fridge to match the new upright freezer, but this will wait.  I've moved the smaller fridge from the porch into the ex-study, now nameless part of the kitchen and, once it's settled and switched on, I'll empty the contents of the bigger fridge into it and move that.  It's getting tedious, going out to the porch every time I want anything.

Anyway, I need to get back to lighthearted blogging after this.  So I won't even mention the water running down the walls yesterday.  Z wants to be happy (yes, there is always a song in my head.  All that's said or does reminds me of a song and I've usually got a quote or two in there too).  I have lit 3 candles - this isn't a religious thing, I just find candles calming - and I'll light the fire and make myself a nice cup of tea.