Z sorts things out

 I slept for nearly nine hours last night.  It was remarkable.  Today, I walked along the coast path with A&L, Tim's in-laws.  We did the same in June and, walking back up the steep drive to the caravan, I had to stop and pant twice, to my embarrassment.  That was just before the anaemia was discovered and today, after three months of iron tablets, I didn't stop and wasn't out of breath. 

I've packed up most of the china and glasses, but haven't tackled the pots and pans yet.  There's very little that I'll want to keep.  I'll ask Henry, when I see him later, if it's possible to leave them or put them by the bins, rather than take them home to dispose of.  If he calls in this afternoon or first thing tomorrow, I'll go home rather than wait until Sunday, but either day is okay.  There's still quite a lot of packing up to do but it won't take all that long really.  Then I'll hoover and wash the floor and surfaces in the morning - whichever morning I'm going, that is.

Even the internet has behaved itself this visit.  There are only two places that I can ever get a signal but, between them, it's quite reliable.  The simplest thing to do is to balance the phone on the tv and then pair it to the computer and I've got some work done that way.

I've decided to hold two auctions next year, instead of the usual one, as I have more china being offered to me than I can manage.  So I hope the market will hold up.  I'm also making plans for when I'll retire altogether.  From auctions, not from blogging or anything else, of course.  I'll have more time when I don't have china to value or catalogues to write.  

I also read half a book yesterday afternoon and will finish it today (Julian Lloyd Webber's memoir Bows and Arrows), which I'm enjoying.  Apart from anything else, I like a good pun.  I'm sure I've talked about it before, but the first song I ever remember loving was Anne Shelton with Lay Down Your Arms which, having just looked it up, dates from September 1956, the month of my third birthday.  Even at that age, I appreciated the play on words (lay down your arms and surrender to mine) - maybe it had to be explained to me, I can't remember, but I do recall thinking it was hilariously clever and witty.  

Yesterday afternoon, I put on the kettle for a cup of tea and cleared a shelf of books and leaflets.  Some of them were packed to take home but, much as it goes against the grain to throw away any book, elderly pocket guides to wild flowers and butterflies can't even be given away, so a few were destined for the bin.  I took them along, stopped to chat to Henry's son who was doing some sorting out, forgot all about the kettle and arrived back to a hot smell.  It had only just boiled dry and is undamaged, but it's needed some work with a Brillo pad to scour away the scorching on the outside (and, once it had cooled down, of course I cleaned inside too).  I don't usually get so distracted, but all I'll have to do about the caravan once I get home is to cancel the insurance, which is due for renewal next month.  Eventually, I'll receive a cheque from Henry once he's sold it and that'll be that.  One distraction out of the way for good.

Time to do some more sorting out, if there's to be any chance of going home tomorrow.  

Next week, Z will start looking forward. Still a caravan to clear now

 I hadn't got around to contacting Blogger to tell them I couldn't change the email account to this one, but evidently others have and they've repaired the problem.  Hooray.  And, remarkably, I've got internet at the caravan at present - that is, I've put my phone in the small area where there's a signal and paired the laptop to it.

This is my final visit here before handing in the keys for Henry the manager to sell it for me.  I've been trotting back and forth to the car with various items - I took some back last time I came here in August.  Now I've got to empty all the kitchen cupboards, which will be quite a job.  It's not as if there's a huge amount of stuff, but it's too easy to accumulate things.

I did an elaborate faceplant into the bathroom washbasin last Friday – the edge of the bathmat slipped and I plunged forward, hitting my forehead.  A lump developed overnight – no headache as such, just a tender place – and the bruising has finally come out today.  Not only on the forehead itself, but down the bridge of my nose and under my eyes.  I’ll wear sunglasses and, if anyone asks, boast that the other guy is in hospital.  Etiquette does not demand that you tell the truth on these occasions.  Youngest grandchild fell off something in the playground on Sunday and has broken a small bone just above her wrist, so she has a plaster to boast about.  I just have a yellow face.

This is the tenth anniversary of our wedding and I'm going to have to learn to remember Tim with love and let go of the anguish.  I spend too much time thinking of him and of Russell and it's not doing me any good.  I don't really know how to do it, but I need to find my sense of self again.

It might be happening already, to an extent.  When asked for birthday present suggestions a few weeks ago, I asked for drought resistant plants for the garden.  I have been completely indifferent to gardening for the last couple of years, but now I'm starting with a small area by the lawn (where there used to be a bed but it was gravelled over ten years ago because I was fed up with ground elder) with the plants I was given, mostly lavenders and grasses.  This is within my limited scope and I'll have to look after it because it's right opposite the door I use most of the time.  I've also bought some early bulbs, heathers and winter pansies, so that the gaps that will leave space for the other plant to grow will have something in them.  I used to spend hours every day gardening and it's gone down to nothing.  I'll not go back, but I'll find a different way.  I have more plans too.  Or rather, I have plans to make plans.  

It's really been a tricky year, with the anaemia, Wink not being well and so on.  But we're both feeling better and tests haven't come up with anything very interesting (I'm due to see the doctor again in a fortnight and still have the colonoscopy to look forward to on the same day) so there's nothing for it but stop feeling sorry for the two of us.  

I've brought three new books with me.  I'll start on one of them now.  If I have Internet again, I'll post tomorrow too.

Z and Wink are cheesed off

 Yesterday, we had a really excellent lecture at the society previously known as Nadfas (I'm going to have to give in and simply call it the Arts Society, but not quite yet) and I drove the lecturer back to the station, as he couldn't stay for lunch.  On the way home, I dropped off Dilly's birthday present. It was just as well that Steven hadn't been able to join us for lunch as, on my arrival home about 1.20, hungry and in need of the loo and then lunch, I read my post.  I'd an appointment for an ultrasound at 2.45.  I'd only just got time.

I'd already been to the lavatory.  So I drank the best part of a litre of water (you need a full bladder), went to change into looser clothes rather than the fitted dress I was wearing, phoned Wink to say that, if she wanted a lift home, be ready in 5 minutes, picked her up and dropped her off and then set off for the hospital.  No time to eat.  I'd allowed a goodly time to park in the inadequate car park, which I needed and I arrived at the department with 5 minutes to spare.

Delightful staff, my recent experiences of the NHS have been overwhelmingly positive.  On the way home, I detoured to the nearest petrol station, as the tank was perilously low and arrived home at 4.30, and ate lunch.  So hungry.

This morning, i had a call from the surgery to offer a follow-up appointment to discuss the result.  12th October.  I was quite reassured by the relaxed date, until I realised they haven't actually had the results and are allowing plenty of time.  I still can't be fussed, though.

Today, I took Wink to another hospital for her regular eye check.  Boo chiz, she will have to have an injection next week.  But her sight has not deteriorated over the past year, thanks to those unpleasant injections (macular degeneration) so we are phlegmatic about it.  We're both so fed up though, she has another test for her heart next week, I've got an appointment with a nurse tomorrow, we don't normally go anywhere near doctors.  I have to be grateful that the anaemia was found, I suppose, as I do feel better for that having been dealt with.

Mouth healing, but it will take a month of being careful.

A nice back road we sometimes take home from the hospital had a sign up.  It'll be closed for 15 weeks from next Monday, to put in cycle paths.  I've never seen a cyclist on it, though it's already safe.  Really, council? Really?  Best use of limited funds?  From now until Christmas? 

They've been upgrading the junction with the A47, Norwich's southern bypass, with the A11, which goes into the M11 once you get to Essex, as we don't do motorways in these parts.  This is also a lengthy project and isn't due to be completed until the spring of 2028.  However, the complexity of the scheme has to be respected, it's been a bad junction for a long time and, with the underpass and so on (I haven't seen the whole design) it's a big project and I appreciate it.  Even though the traffic queues can be bad, I don't resent it at all.  I'm not just a grumpy old woman.  I am, but there's more to me....

Z has the vapours

I spent last week at the caravan in Pembrokeshire where, of course, there is only the occasional brief internet connection.  I'll visit once more, later this month, then hand over the keys to Henry.  He will sell the caravan on my behalf and relet the site, it will be up to the new people to buy a caravan.

Between now and then, the son of friends will visit for a week or so, he called in for the key this evening.

All the family came over yesterday for a bank holiday barbecue, which was excellent. A lot better than the previous few days.  I'd had to have a tooth out on Thursday - nothing wrong with it, but the infection in the bone wasn't going to go away.  Having rested on Friday, a modest visit to an antiques fair on Saturday afternoon seemed reasonable, but I fainted on the way out, persuaded the emergency services person that I didn't need an ambulance, phoned Al who came to pick me up, accompanied by Dilly, so that he could drive my car home and she drive Wink.

There are too many humiliations in being old/unwell and I don't appreciate it.  I'm really pissed off.  I feel fine until I don't.  But 35ish migraines in two thirds of a year, when I normally would only have about 2 isn't great and I hope they will find out what's wrong and put it right. Or possibly give me a crappy prognosis, in which case I'll at least know how I stand; or lie down in a public place because I can't reliably sit up.  

It's my own fault.  I should have lain flat the moment I felt faint, rather than thinking I could get back to the car.

Anyway.  Wink has been invited to a wedding on the Isle of Bute in early December and is looking forward to it very much.  More on that next time.