Z will relax in November

 It's a busy week, mostly because my Lowestoft china auction is tomorrow.  I haven't packed up the china yet, so that's the main job for the morning.  Everything else is ready, though I've spent much of the day cussing Microsoft, as usual.  And my printer.  I had occasion to print something on A5 paper a few weeks ago and it stubbornly kept on printing everything in tiny print on the middle of the page, however carefully I checked the settings.  Finally, I realised that, though it wasn't set like that, the last thing printed became the default and I was able to change it.  I'm not sure if Ro's field is user experience any longer - it used to be, in his last job, but it matters.  Very much.

Anyway, the morning started with a visit to the doctor - yet another GP, a very nice Polish woman who introduced herself by her first name (the first doctor I saw started with Dr Surname, then went on to Charles Surname, then Charlie Surname - on the phone, that is) and she wanted me to tell her my understanding of what's been found out so far, so that she didn't need to tell me what I already knew, but could expand on it.

She's prescribed me pills to cut stomach acid, to allow my oesophagus to heal and I've got an appointment in a little over a month for another gastroscopy.  I asked is I should change it to later in the month and she said no, hastily.  If I've got an appointment, keep it!  But now she wants an MRI scan too, just to confirm my (formerly) reproductive system is fine, though she thinks it probably is.  Just to be thorough.  But she thinks that the oesophageal thing may explain it all (Barrett's Oesophagus is potentially pre-cancerous, so they want to be quite sure I don't have it) and that the PPIs will sort me out, though I may have to carry on with a low dose.

17 years since I last saw a GP about my hip and 10 years since I last had a visit to hospital.  This summer and autumn, I've absolutely made up for it.  

The weather has taken a turn for the chilly and I've lit the woodturner for the last few nights.  I'm still resisting the Aga on grounds of cost, but another week and on it goes.  Once the weather is reliably cold, I'll dig up the tortoises and put them in a box for the winter - I'm not confident that the unheated back bedroom will be quite cold enough yet.  They'd probably be okay outdoors, but they didn't dig down very far last autumn and I'm not confident.  If I find that they are, I might put a box stuffed with straw on top of them and leave them, though.  The run is rat proof - those creatures are as much danger as getting frosted.

We have made plans for a short holiday at the beginning of December, with Al staying here as he usually and so kindly does.  It's a change from our original plan in fact, because Wink had been invited to a wedding on one of the Scottish islands and I'd volunteered to drive and make a break of it for a few days afterwards.  Sadly, the wedding has been called off.  But we are going to Derbyshire instead, just for a long weekend and we're visiting Chatsworth and we haven't quite decided what else as yet.  We will be flexible until nearer the time, because who knows what the weather will do?  Very much looking forward to it.

Z gives TMI and is both bored by and worships the NHS

 It was an interesting few days.  The thing is, when I was found to be anaemic, I alerted the medics and I can't be anything but grateful for that.  Sincerely, I appreciate it and am, more than ever, in love with the NHS.  I can't believe that it works so well as often as it does.

Wink and I have both, for different reasons, had a lot of tests in the past few months.  Turns out that none of the things that either of us were tested for have been positive.  So it's good, for the most part.  Not to talk about my sister, I'll drone on about myself, because it's all about me, innit and I have few limits, nowadays.

First doctor thought I showed symptoms of bowel cancer or possibly blood cancer.  No.  Second doctor thought I might have an ovarian cyst.  Inconclusive because the ultrasound was (sorry) affected by air in my intestines so it didn't show one way or the other.  I've an appointment booked about that.  But I do have a couple of fibroids.  I have no idea if that matters.  Anything in millimetres sounds tiny to me.

First doctor had referred me for a gastroscopy/colonoscopy.  This was on Monday.  I had to stop the iron tablets a fortnight earlier (for my American friends, a fortnight is fourteen nights, ie two weeks) For three days beforehand, I had to have a low fibre diet.  Darlings, this was difficult.  Literally no vegetables or fruit.  Not even freshly ground pepper.  There was a whole list of permitted and forbidden food.  I lived on fish and chicken, eggs and cheese with white bread, white rice, white pasta.  No garlic, nothing.  Then I'll draw a veil over the final evening and next morning, except to say that I spent a total of four and a half hours in the lavatory, plus a few dashes.

I do not have bowel cancer, nor even polyps.  I watched the screen, it's all pink and squeaky clean (and as empty as can be, as of 4pm Monday).  I do not have stomach cancer.  By the way, it's very unlikely I have cancer in my (defunct) reproductive system.  What I do have, which I was already pretty sure of, is a hiatus hernia.  This has caused some inflammation, which they need to lessen so that I can have another gastroscopy to check if I've Barrett's oesophagus which, especially untreated, can be a precursor to oesophageal cancer.  So I'm to be prescribed pills to cut right down on stomach acid so they can see that.  There's a small (2mm is small, surely) ulcer, non-bleeding, right where the oesophagus meets the stomach.  No symptoms.  

To sum up, maybe this will save me from a nasty cancer.  Nothing explains the anaemia, which I still think was the result of a virus soon after a blood donation, which stopped red blood cells from re-forming.  If there is a cyst, it might need treatment (honestly, they can remove anything, I've no more use for it) and if there are dodgy cells just above my stomach, I might need treatment for that.  Quite likely, the anaemia was a very useful red herring.

The colonoscopy was ghastly. If I need another at any time, I'll say that I need a whole lot of painkillers upfront, because - though I think I'm pretty good with pain usually - I didn't cope as well as I'd have liked to.  Apparently, I have a narrow colon with tight corners.  Who knew?

Z's blog.  Where she overshares.  I'm telling you so that I don't have to tell anyone else in awful detail.  And, if you have been, thanks for listening (always remembering the wonderful John Ebden on Radio 4's sign off).

Z goes through the tunnel

 I completed the sorting out on Saturday morning and was finally ready to leave by noon.  It was around 7pm or a little earlier when I arrived home.  Then I had three days to catch up with everything before leaving again.  I did everything that was essential and a bit more.  

Now we're staying in Bruges for a few days.  It's an arts society trip, so we're getting guided tours round Bruges, Antwerp and Ghent and seeing the art galleries, as well as various other places.  It's all very enjoyable - there are 27 of us altogether, some of us already knew each other and it's all very friendly.  We're having a good time.  Home on Sunday - Al is looking after everything there - and then I'll have to sort out the rest of everything from the caravan.  

One car is having its MOT done tomorrow (a friend picked me up from the garage as I wouldn't bring a courtesy car and leave it for the rest of the week) and the other is booked in for a fortnight's time.  Now I'm not exhausted all the time, I'm trying to catch up with everything that's been neglected.  There's a lot.  

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.

Just as well Z is not a hypochondriac

 The doctors' receptionist phoned bright and early to say the results of my latest blood test had come in and a doctor could see me today.  Since lockdown, it has not been easy to see a doctor, so I was taken aback.  But in I toddled this afternoon and I was surprised again.  

I'm not anaemic now, though advised to carry on taking iron for the next few weeks.  But my •something I didn't recognise* markers are up, which indicate the ovaries, apparently.  It's most likely to be an ovarian cyst, she reckons, as they're not up all that much and it would be much higher for cancer.  So now I'll be referred for an ultrasound to have a look.  She doesn't think it's likely to be any problem with my digestive system.  So there we go.  I'm still down for the other tests, but we plod on.  

On the way out, I saw a friend in the waiting room, who wasn't surprised that I'd been seen so quickly.  She says they're fabulous at the practice and she's never had any problems.  I said, it was the speed that disconcerted me, I assumed it must be worrying news, but she said efficiency is typical.  But I must be costing the NHS a packet - other than vaccinations, I haven't troubled it for a decade - a couple of brief interviews with nurses is all - but I'm getting my entire money's worth at present.

We have had rain this week, not in great quantities, but some of the lawn is already showing green.  It's shaded by trees, so hadn't been so badly affected as the rest of the grass.  I have little doubt that it'll all green up in the next few weeks.  We visited Beth Chatto's garden on Tuesday.  She created this garden from the 1960s onwards and was a firm believer in planting the right plants for the conditions, not planting what you want and trying to make the soil and the climate fit them.  She was especially known for planting in poor, dry soil, which is what I have.  Back in the day, they never watered the driest part, but did do some other watering.  Now, nothing is watered.  There are basically four areas - the dry part, the area where a stream runs through, where a large pond was created, a - can't remember what it's called, but a 'difficult' area, next to where a farmer created a reservoir and dumped a whole lot of excavated earth and everything else, to which she added a huge amount of mushroom compost to try to make it workable before planting, and a woodland.  This was already a wood, but much of it blew down in the 'great storm' in 1987, which freed her to replant with what she wanted.

Of course, it's suffered in the drought, but it's interesting to see what's done well and what hasn't.  I've visited the garden before, but not for many years and, going on the A140 rather than the slow A12, it took less time to get there than we expected.  We plan to visit again in the spring.

Z's tether is fairly stretchy

 I'm finally at the stage of acknowledging that it's too much.  I've been gentle with myself for years, which helps at the time, but not in the long run, because difficult but necessary things get pushed back.  They do get done in the end, but I've always assumed I have time, which isn't a sensible assumption.

It's as much on Wink's behalf as my own.  Driving her to hospital today, I nearly missed coming off the main road, but remembered in time not to inconvenience anyone else, then took the wrong turning at the next roundabout, which was just into a service road so I did a rapid turn and no one but Wink and me knew.  Wink is more in touch with her feelings than I am (this is polite for emotional).  I clamp down.  In my experience over half my lifetime, letting go just means it's harder to come back to an even keel.  Facilis descensus averno, as Virgil put it in a different context - he meant, if you go wrong then it's a bugger to come back to the straight and narrow.  I just mean, keep emotionally stable.  If you let the pressure in and go below that stability, it's doubly hard to catch up again.  You may disagree and you're welcome to.

Anyway, it's been a good day overall, though not an easy one.  I finally typed up the last two lots, which are truly beautiful. If I hadn't overspent so violently last year, I'd be bidding myself.  I have taken photos of them, but they aren't good enough and I'll take more tomorrow.  At a pinch, I've done enough to start on the catalogue, but I've got more work tomorrow and also have a *potential but not likely* client in his 90s coming over to look at the china.  On Friday, I'm off to Wales.  I'd like to see friends on the way/way back and I've been horribly remiss in not getting in touch yet.  Wink had her breathing test - this is not diagnostic, just to show how much difficulty she has, to inform the later heart test.  I am pretty sure that I'm more concerned about her than about myself, though the procedures I'm due to have are rather more unpleasant.  Shit happens, darlings.  No point in worrying, unless it's about someone you care about rather a lot.

It's rained for the last couple of nights and been nowhere near so hot.  I just heard thunder.  I'm a little bit sad that summer is probably over, even if it has been a bit much.

Zerlina was 18 yesterday and her brother is 15 tomorrow.  Their parents have been married 21 years today.  On the 24th, Al and Dilly will have been married 22 years.  Well played, all of you.  Love and congratulations.  Zerlina passed her driving test a couple of weeks ago, which is also fab.  Worth being old for.  I'll press on and be fairly cheerful.

A mere 22º

 It's been appreciably cooler today, which simply means normal for the time of the year.  My day started early. I woke up around 4.30, which means a good night (anything before 3 is bad news) and was relaxedly scrolling on my phone - at that moment wrestling with New York Times Connections, having already solved Wordle - when the cat sat up and started licking her lips.  That's not good.  I got up and walked round the bed to her, she started vibrating and that does not mean purring.  It was more of a full body thing than that.  I picked her up, decided we wouldn't make it downstairs and held her over the washbasin.  She was not happy.

One furball later, neatly deposited in the sink, I took her downstairs and invited her to go outside.Ten minutes later, having cleaned the basin (it was not one of the dry furballs, it would have been most unpleasant in bed), I invited her back in.  She ignored me, indignant.

Anyway, I had a nap later before getting up, so the morning hadn't started too badly.

Yesterday, Ro came over, as he'd been invited to a get-together later with a group of friends and I'm on his way.  But when he arrived, he was massively distressed.  He'd just had a text from the wife of a friend of his.  The night before, M had a heart attack, was revived by the paramedics but tests had shown he was brain dead.  His wife had to tell a few people and then asked Ro to tell the rest of his friends.  

I only met M a couple of times, when they were all at school together.  He was a year older than Ro, only 43.  Forty three.  He'd had a medical a few months ago, because he and G were adopting a baby and they both needed checkups. Nothing showed.  Lovely man, a lovely couple, now G is a widow with a young baby.  If I'm as upset as I am, I can only imagine how very hard it is for his wife, family and friends, as well as Ronan who was a close friend.  They used to see each other every couple of weeks.  

I've nearly finished the china, up to Lot 100 of 102, but then there are the books, around a dozen of them.  I also have to label the china.  It's in my very secure big dining room and then it'll all be put in the strong room, which is so secure that the police let the Sage keep his guns in there without a gun cupboard (obviously, as I don't have a licence, I don't have them any more).  Russell didn't kill but he was a crack shot with a rifle to a target.  He liked the 1,000 yards distance best, which I can't begin to imagine.  A bullseye, at least 9 times out of 10, at more than half a mile.  Beyond belief to me. He loved to calculate the distortion (mirage), trajectory and even curvature of the earth, all in his head, before he fired.  Shooting a pheasant was too easy and he didn't want to kill for sport.  

It'll be an early start tomorrow, as we're off on a coach trip, all highly cultural of course.  We need to leave home by 7 o'clock.  The cats will be surprised.  Then a couple of fairly busy days, then I'm off to the caravan, possibly for the last time, on Friday.  

Z is fine, whatever the doctor thinks

I finally sat down at my elderly desktop computer and found that there are literally dozens of pages in Safari that are open but empty.  I can only think that the cat has tried to blog and didn't quite manage it.  I've closed at least 20 of them, but there's a long way to go and the dear old Mac is slow, nowadays, even just shutting something.  

Things are all right, or possibly not.  Wink and I spend time together bemoaning the ageing process.  I'm still on iron tablets and am due another blood test tomorrow, to see if there's progress.  Last time, there was and there was no blood where there had no business to be blood, but my very nice doctor clearly isn't happy.  He has a feeling.  And, very sensibly, he's acting on that feeling, which I can only applaud, at least in theory.  I don't think he's right, because there's no blood where there shouldn't be (which would be the only symptom apart from anaemia) and I feel absolutely well, with more verve (even allowing for the enervating effect of many weeks of heatwave) than I did have before the iron.  I don't think I would if his alternative suggestion is the case, which leaves me, on a balance of probabilities, thinking I'm probably okay.  But he's right to check.  So I've been referred for a combined gastroscopy and colonoscopy (Ro and I have giggled about being skewered from both ends, because you've got to laugh, innit?) which frankly sounds ghastly.  I have to drink something the night before and am darkly warned to stay near the lavatory, not to travel and, well, just park myself by the loo or on the loo until I'm emptier than I've ever been in my life, and then don't eat anything.  I haven't got a date for this yet, but Lovely Dilly and Al have assured me that they will take me (I suspect they'll be at work and I don't want them to take time off, but we'll see how that goes.  Plan B is Ronan, who lives close to the hospital).

An unrelated but dismal other medical thing was a gumboil.  Very unfortunately, I've got an infection that can only be cleared up temporarily - there is nothing wrong with the tooth, which is the molar next to the wisdom tooth, bottom left, but I've got to have it out.  The appointment for that is just before the bank holiday weekend.  Ro had to have a wisdom tooth out a few years ago, for a similar reason and he's warned me what to expect.  It's not nice - the extraction itself is the least of it.  I'll have a difficult week or so afterwards.  Eat well before you come in, the receptionist said kindly, when I was making the appointment.  So I had a week of antibiotics to help suppress the infection - I was lucky (I'll find luck wherever I go, somehow) that the pus - sorry, I shuddered too - has been draining downwards into my gum, otherwise I'd have been in a lot of pain.  It's almost as unpleasant to consider this infection draining into my poor jaw.  But at least I feel nothing.

You think this is enough?  My lovely sister Wink is about to have a breathing test at the hospital, because she's having problems.  The lung guy assures her it isn't cancer.  The heart guy assures her it isn't heart failure.  What it's likely to be is a blockage in an artery, so she's also booked for an angiogram.  This is three days after my tooth extraction, so I'll be hungry but able to drive.

Weeza and co had a lovely holiday and all went well with Wink, Izzy the dog and the house.  We didn't do the jollies we'd planned because it was just too hot, but we went out for lunch instead and discovered a splendid pub that we will visit again, by the river in Coltishall.

I've mostly been relaxing, because of the heat.  My watch tells me that I'm taking less exercise than a year ago.  Well yes, that's because of the heat and it's actual NHS advice.  People die of this!  I'm old enough to give myself leeway.  I'd wanted to go to London for various exhibitions, but they have to wait.  No unnecessary journeys.  But I am off to the caravan on Friday, because I've got things to do there.  Mostly packing up, which I'm really sad about but I console myself with the thousands of pounds I'll save that I can do something else with.  I don't save for my old age any longer, I'm already there.

I've written more than enough, but there's a lot still to say.  So, after a rather depressing to read post - I'm fine, genuinely, it's just life - I'll have a mixture next time.  Which in theory will be tomorrow, but I'm in the middle of photographing china, which also involves describing and checking for damage, so takes as many hours as I can bear to spend.  

Finally signed in

 I’m writing on my phone. I can’t sign in on the laptop. It’s as if the powers don’t like bloggers any more. 

I went to the caravan in Wales and have confirmed that I’ll give it up at the end of the season. Being without internet, I kept a journal but it rambled somewhat - it’s one thing to write daily and post it, but several days of it just seems indulgent. 

I’ve been dutifully swallowing iron pills, have had another blood test and the doctor is due to phone tomorrow. 

Last Saturday, I visited the London flat, which the lovely tenants vacated the day before, as they were returning to Australia. By now, it should have been redecorated and a few repairs made, ready for the new tenants tomorrow. 

I also did my annual accounts and gave them to my accountant today. 

What else I’ve done has been to gather together nearly all the china for the next auction - a few other items booked in. 

When it’s all written down, it looks as if I’ve got a lot done. I suppose I have. 

Wink is house/dog sitting for Weeza and co, who are on holiday. We’ll have a day out together soon. 

Blogger nanny knows nothing

 I'm having problems with Blogger.  I much preferred to use the blog on my own domain, but I had a huge amount of difficulty with it last year and I've simply given up.  It's all complicated and it was because *they* messed up and the person I managed to speak to gave me incorrect information, because clearly he didn't understand the problem and didn't realise he didn't, so didn't kick it up to the next level.  Eventually, after an hour on the phone on another occasion, I got a woman who did understand, sorted it out from her end - but then I was removed from the sign in page.  At that point, I came back to Blogger.  At least, as I've paid, the blog is there.  I had it for several years and don't want to lose it.

Anyway, for an unknown reason, Blogger has my default email wrong (though only here) - it's a real address but not the one the blog is linked to.  This is why, sometimes, when I answer comments, it's under a different address.  Just going from the blog to the comment signs me out of the correct account.  But, for the last couple of days, I've been unable to change it.  I'm only able to post at all because I go back in 'history' to the post edit page.  If you leave a comment and it doesn't appear, it's because I'm having such difficulty approving it.

I've a horrible feeling I'm going to have to speak to someone.

Meanwhile, today is a computer day, in the work sense.  That, of course, is why I'm writing here instead of doing the work.  Maybe coffee will help.  

Since the hot weather started, caffeine hasn't been part of my life, for the most part.  I've just been drinking a lot of water with a great deal of ice and slices of cucumber and lemon.  It's getting boring, to be frank, but what else to do?  Everything else is too hot or too sweet or, in the case of alcohol during the day, I don't want it and it's too strong for the weather.  Today, the temperature is due to rise to a mere 24º (75º) so perhaps a nice, strong cup of black coffee will start professional Z off.

The other nuisance with Blogger is that it insists on putting my name.  Here, I am Z and always have been.  Autobuggerup repeatedly changes it.  I delete superfluous letters and Blanny tells me it knows best.  I have to type the next word and then go back and change it again.  I'm reasonably sure I can sign in to the correct account on my old computer, possibly on my phone too, so I trust I won't disappear again.

Z muses

 It's a funny thing.  When I was having tests,  I was more concerned about the nuisance of possibly having to rearrange things than anything else.  There are a number of things every single week from now until the end of the year, and quite a lot after that.  Anyway, it seems probable that my nice white blood cells are successfully fighting some viral infection and that is most likely to have skewed the red blood cells.  So I'm being prescribed iron tablets and am to be given another blood test in three weeks' time.  I've been extremely impressed by the GP practice and the two doctors I've spoken to/seen.  

Wink and I have been talking about being too busy for a while.  It's not just being busy, it's the structure of it.  Too many things that happen every week or every month and having to fit in extras where we can, then more crops up and we keep on juggling our time.  We don't see a way out of it.  We'd like to be able to be spontaneous, but it's a matter of looking in the diary and noting a day or two, three weeks hence, when we have the opportunity for spontaneity. That isn't being spontaneous, is it?  

Anyway, at least tomorrow I'm free until 6 o'clock, when we're going to the local theatre for dinner before a film.  Lovely, I can catch up with paperwork.

Z plans to relax

 I'm trying to clear the decks of paperwork over the next week or so, to take July off as much as I can.  Once August comes, I'll be working on the auction catalogue, which takes weeks, so this is my best chance.  

It's hot out there, but not in the house.  There is only one window that faces south and the main rooms are west-facing, with one east and west and the other being east and south.  So it's never oppressively hot, unless I've forgotten to open my bedroom window in the evening for an hour or two before bed.  

I spend my early morning and evening time listening to birdsong.  I'm having another go at identifying different birds - I don't have a very good ear for it, but have realised how many different ones we have.  A linnet, for instance.  I've never seen one in the garden, but according to Merlin, it's out there.  I was told, by the guys who came to inspect the bells at the church, that jackdaws had been nesting in the church tower, which surprised me as I've never noticed any, but yes, now I know what they sound like, we've got 'em.  Learning birdsong will be my mission for the rest of the nesting season.

Blog party done for another year

 It was a relaxed and cheerful blog party.  There were only 8 of us, but that made it easy.  I made pulled pork (slow cooked overnight, pulled apart with forks) and sirloin of beef, plus salads and eggs.  Then orange cake and chocolate cake, syllabub and strawberries, also local cheese.  Puds were dairy and gluten free, but I can always cater for any and all dietary requirements.  So much easier than it used to be and more necessary, as increasing numbers of people develop problems with various foods, as well as being vegetarian/vegan.  A friend posted photos on social media today, his partner is vegan and, whilst his lunch was vegetarian, hers was baked potato and baked beans and, honestly, that wouldn't make me very satisfied.  Stodge on stodge isn't very enjoyable.  I love vegetables, but the more obviously protein-rich vegan foods would be a problem, long term.  Tofu is deeply boring and tastes of nothing.  However much it's been marinated, I've found that I eat the veggies and push the tofu aside.  Dhal is good, but it's stodgy, to me, and I can't eat much of it.  I like beans and chickpeas, but once or twice a week at most.  Just adding an egg makes it all so much easier.  And I'm attempting to help my anaemia by adding red meat, which I'm enjoying, having rarely eaten it for months.  I don't know how I'd replace that iron quickly without supplements.  This is not to be critical of anyone in the least, I just wonder how someone who loves all food and cooking can possibly deal with having so many foods out of bounds.  An allergy forces it on you and a religious or cultural reason, that means you've never eaten a food, means you don't miss what you have never tasted.  

Anyway, I digress.  Zoe, Mike and Scout stayed overnight and we polished off most of the leftovers for lunch, apart from an unseemly amount of rice salad.  Now, I'm going to pretend to watch the Belgium/Iran match and root for Zoe's team.  But let the best team win, hey.

Keats had a point

 I went to an excellent lecture today about Japonisme, the influence of Japan on Europe from the second half of the 19th century onwards.  I already knew a fair bit on the subject, but this lecturer went beyond paintings to textiles, clothes, ceramics, furnishings and so on, which was really interesting.  She also went beyond the usual Impressionists and Post-Impressionists to the early years of the 20th century.  

There are things I used to enthuse about that I don't any more.  I do no gardening at all, for instance.  I haven't even bothered to plant up the tubs outside the house.  Bare earth or what has survived from last year and I don't care.  I'm sad that I don't care, but I can't pretend to.  My love of art, in all forms, has increased, however.  It's most of what I care about - obviously, not including people.  I want to go to art galleries, concerts, see and hear about beauty.  I don't mind at all if it's not, initially, my idea of beauty.  You can appreciate something that you don't necessarily like.  Only by seeing it or listening to it enough times to start to understand it, can you know if you do like it - or if it's any good.  Plenty of fashionable emperors are not wearing any clothes, but some of them are, resplendently.

Z loves getting ready for a party. It makes me very happy.

 I did cook the fish, as well as cabbage, last night.  I still have some of the fish left - when I think that, back in the day, my parents cheerily tucked into a pair of kippers for breakfast or a whole Dover sole for dinner - the sole would overlap the plate at each side, it was enormous.  Now, none of us can manage half as much and I'm not sure when it changed.  I know that we never snacked.  A couple of olives or cheesy biscuits, with an aperitif, perhaps, but no one munched on anything between meals.  But nor do I and I still can't manage a fillet of plaice.  Tim and I often used to share a steak or a big piece of fish.

Today, I have done all I planned to do, remarkably.  I have cooked two gluten and dairy free cakes, ready for Saturday, which will be wrapped up and kept cool.  Everything else is planned and will be done on Friday and Saturday morning.  I'm energised by the anticipation, so not tired unless there's good cause.

Tonight, because the fillet steak I took out of the freezer was actually two, I'm making Boeuf Stroganoff for dinner, to use up the second one (I realise that I won't eat it all, so I'll frugally squirrel one away in the freezer.  I've opened a bottle of very good red wine.  I've been saving it, but who's better to use it on than me?  When I ask people over for dinner, we're all too busy talking and eating to notice what we're drinking, unless it's rather poor, so I might as well savour a glass or two.  Two, frankly.

All the same, I've noticed, over the years, that when a wine is very good, I drink less of it.  I relish and appreciate it, so it's more satisfying.  I've also noticed that it diminishes in quality on the second outing and, by the third day, it could be any decent plonk.  I do have a gizmo that's supposed to remove the air from a bottle, but I've forgotten how to use it.  Ho hum.

I also had trouble removing the innards from my coffee machine to wash it.  I fiddled about with it yesterday, without success, looked for the instructions this morning, also without success and sprayed water around in case something was stuck.  Without success.  Then I found another small moving part and moved it and, hurray.  Success.  The rest was easy, except that I forgot that it has to be reinserted on the huh, so it took a couple of minutes.  Then I made coffee, obviously.

Oh, I made a loaf of bread too.  Such industry.  Now, time for the beef.  I've soaked some rice in preparation, because I'm totally on a roll.  Which has nothing to do with bread.  I'm very tempted to make bread rolls for Saturday, because I'm making pulled pork as one of the dishes, but I hope I'll have more sense, because cooking them will be really fiddly without the Aga.  And, since a heatwave is forecast, I don't want to turn that up.  Also, I'm limited for time.  I'm busy tomorrow and Thursday.  

Z is listening to a blackbird singing in the evening sunshine

 When Weeza was a little girl she would announce, at the end of a busy day, "I'm hungry and I'm thirsty and I'm tired." I thought that at lunchtime today, after more than three hours spent with china.  So I poached two bantam eggs and toasted a slice of bread for lunch and then, having gone too long without food, ate a chunk of cheese too.  I have a sizeable fillet of plaice in the fridge, that I bought from Paul the Fish this morning, but I'm not sure I can be bothered to cook it.  I'm trying to think of something healthy that I want to eat and I happen to have, instead.  It may be simpler to cook the fish.

Most of the time, I'm enthusiastic about cooking, but a few times a year, I become completely bored with it.  This time, it's been sparked by turning the Aga off - it had been far too hot to bear it for a week, then I've resisted any temptation with the memory of the last propane bill, for the fill-up just before the war started, since when prices have rocketed.  I'm making this last as long as possible.  I bowed to the trend for heated blankets in the winter and, in the last chilly days, it has saved me from turning on an electric fire.  I admit also to switching on the electric blanket at night, a couple of times, too.  This, only days after finding a summer duvet far too hot and just sleeping under a sheet.  English weather is endlessly entertaining.  Another heatwave is promised for later in the week.  Bring it on, darlings.  At least we've had plenty of rain.

The bantams are laying enthusiastically.  There are only eight of them, all either four or five years old.  But there were six eggs yesterday and another three today.  I am planning a good many egg-based dishes for Saturday - cakes, mousse and good old egg mayonnaise, at least.  Thank goodness no one is allergic to eggs.  With the obvious exception of vegans, vegetarians and committed meat enthusiasts (because the first two and the last don't fit easily)  I aim to serve food that everyone can eat, not to make anyone feel as if they have to be careful and ask.  Luckily, I can and do eat pretty well anything, but a lot of people can't or choose not to.

Anyway.  As ever, I start to write without knowing where I'll end up.  I'll go and cook that fish.  I've got a blood test booked by the way, for tomorrow.  I had a speedy response from the GP, which is slightly disconcerting.  I know how triage works.

Z's chatty morning

 I went to church this morning - we only have one service a month now, though an informal church group has a meeting every week.  From last month, we've combined forces.  I won't say that the very informal services really suit me - they use the Communion service with their coffee morning style - but it's very friendly and pleasant; just not really going to church.  But never mind that - as I was going in, I saw two friends I haven't seen for ages, literally not for several years.  Phil asked me delicately if I had a partner, it's that long.  He knew I'd married Tim, but not that he'd died, though Chris hastily corrected him.  I don't take any offence, of course.  Better to just ask.

Later, another old friend came and we sat together - she'd come for someone's 80th birthday party; he and his wife taught her at high school and they've been friends ever since - she's now in her early 50s.  After the service, we stayed and chatted for a long time and really connected - we've always liked each other, but we know more about why, now.  We think and react similarly about things - it's not about opinions, which we didn't discuss, but the way our minds work.

On the way out, Chris, Phil and I started talking again.  They've had a fairly rough year, with a major health issue and very aged parental problems.  Again, we just got on and had a very sympathetic conversation.  It was all rather lovely.

I had lots of vegetables for lunch, plus halloumi - I was just using things up out of the fridge.  I'd had steak for dinner last night and liver and onions this evening.  I don't really feel much like cooking and eating, but I need to put myself right.  I also had an afternoon nap rather than catalogue china, and have only done five pieces.  I need to get my arse in gear tomorrow morning.