Another early start.

Crept into the back room just after five, and so not wishing to awake the sleeping beasts upstairs I boiled a little water in small pan over a low heat to make a cup of tea. 

And as I drank the tea I listened to the bird song. A perfect start to anyone's day. Yesterday I saw a Blackbird standing on our model railway track, its beak holding tight a bundle of broken branch bits and dried grasses. It saw me yet didn't move, not even a brief flutter of wings. Then it flew.

There's a cool breeze dancing its way into the little back room, the window being slightly ajar.  And as I look out onto the back garden thoughts of weed killing spring to mind. A job for this morning. I only hope I can get on with the task without interruption.

 

 

 Had a lovely surprise last night.

England v Wales.

Can't remember the last footie match I saw. Sometime last year methinks.

I've made two cakes today. Not spectacular but pretty good and tasty. One for Vi and Trev, the other for us.

Rob, Mark and I are waiting patiently for a nurse to arrive she'll do two Covid tests. One for Mark, one for me.

We need to do this because of Mark's impending hosptal visit on Monday.

Hospital hospital...not relishing the prospect of seeing that place again after the stress of last year...But Mark needs to have an MRI to see whats what. We are all crossing our fingers...Hoping the scan comes up with an all clear.

Travelling up to London Monday afternoon. MRI scan on Tuesday. Then home asap.

 

 Am I trespassing?

Should I tell the new residents of the bungalow that I'm creeping around in their garden?

All I know is that they've modernised the front garden and got shot of my beautiful wood door, replacing it with a red one.

But that's not my business. My days at the bungalow are long gone. I'm a ghost.

 

My step-son Mark will be going to UCLH next Monday for an MRI scan. We are tense of course, hoping and praying that the scan yields nothing grim. 

So Monday...up early, drive to London, Rob and I being allowed to stay overnight with Mark. Rob in the 'relatives' room and me in Mark's room. The doctor remembering how well Mark behaves when he's with me. His mum delivers verbal cannonballs even when saying hello/goodnight.

 So for peace I sit with the young man. And all goes well.

He is a jigsaw of a man. 20 years old, going on 10. Sometimes volatile, always locquacious a dizzy mix of youthful exuberance and old world charm. Mark is Down's Syndrome. 

His cocktail of meds includes steroids which have increased his weight. So we try and try to keep an eye on his food, his food being his friend and comfort.. Only tonight did we have a class 1 spectacular meltdown over his bedtime snack. But we carry on and keep calm. What else do we do.

Me?

 Long silver hair, a creaking left knee, still wrinkle free. Scarred emotionally by whats happened over the past four years  yet still remarkably upbeat. I still cook every day, not shopping so much due to Covid restrictions but I've found inner happiness by shopping online. Mostly handbags.

ETSY UK has given me an outlet for getting rid of my money . I love seeing John the postman staggering up me drive loaded with parcels. He wears a forage cap and drinks at Costas. We have got to know him intimately on account of the aforementioned deliveries. I did toy with the idea of totting up how much I spent during Lockdown, but I chickened out knowing it'd upset me. But upset or not I'm still doing the online thing but not as much....In the past week I've bought a few Corgi cars for Rob from Rummage for Retro, three pairs of earrings from Berty and Gerty and a brown 1970's shopping bag from Revival For Vintage.

Gloria Is Alive And Well Kicking And Screaming Into Her New Life!

I watched a programme on Sky Arts about the poet Carol Ann Duffy, I love her work especially 'Prayer'.

One should never neglect a hobby. But I have. And I've missed my writing.

 

 

 

Bounce Back Boris

When I heard Boris had been taken to hospital I was shocked. When he was admitted to intensive care I sat dumb struck. Stuck to my chair in disbelief. And so bloody angry. 
If ever we needed Boris Johnson's drive, guts and resilience it's now.
C'mon BOJO disentangle yourself from your drip and get back to your desk. Your country needs you.
 
 

 

I've been away.
But now I'm back.
Living not in the bungalow but in a chalet type house.
Last post was four years ago. And what a four years I've had. Endured. Enjoyed.
Days and nights filled with fear, apprehension, excitement, little girl joy.

Today I danced with my 19 year old step-son Mark. He wrecked me with his energy, his lust for living and his non stop I'm alive attitude.
And so he should. He's survived cancer.
But that story is for another day.

I'm still creative.
Making greeting cards. Sewing. Baking beautiful cakes and breads. Arranging my hair in curious fashions. Very long now you know. And silver too. Not grey. Silver. As silver and shiny as the moon. Still reading too. Sometimes I even finish the book....

I very much doubt we'll go to many Classic Car shows this year due to the Coronavirus problem. I'm going to miss them so much.
The whole vintage vehicle world has won me over. I've made chums (mostly old people) but still nice. And ticking off the shows one by one through the summer has been one of the highlights in recent years.
We're lucky to have a choice...it's either the 1961 Rover P4 100 2.7 litre straight six or our 1972 Bedford CF Freeway campervan (my fav) and in the workshop a firebrand red 1972 Hillman Imp super which is nearing the end of a very long restoration. And queued up behind that our 1969 Morris 1000 tradeback pick up which is due for another full restoration after twelve years since the last one.
That's enough about old things.

And that's enough for one post.
I'm feeling funny after four years away.
But you can't keep an old girl down.

I had a 'turn' in the night thought I was having a mini stroke. I think it was because my arm wouldnt lift and I felt nauseous same symptons as in novenmebr. im alright now though I think. I saw John yesteday and it was very good we sorted through some of his vast library. Theres nothing sadder than unwanted books. I loved seeing my oldest friend and Im so happy for him Im glad that once the bungalow is sold he will have financial freedom.
It looks lovely outside and Rob and me are going to Morrisons later. After we dropped john off at the station last night we popped into the Royal Oak pub. Rob had an ale and I had a sherry.
As I held my Patient Assistant PA96000 to my heart at 3am i wondered if it was curtains then I went back to bed hoping for  sleep. It came quickly.
The PA is a gizmo i need to carry at all times. If I get chest pains or palpitations or feel anything strange at all Im to hold the small plastic device against my chest where the loop recorder is embedded.
today I'm wearing colourful clothes.........

I can't get too cosy with electrical or battery operated gadgets/gizmos/appliances on account of todays foray into the world of Loop Implants.
One was fitted today at Southend hospital by a giggle of nurses, one anaesthetist (?) and one jolly doctor. After the bloody surgery ( I bled a lot, apparently)  my opening was glued and I was wheeled back to the ward by a lovely porter (old).Everyone was polite, professional and quite young. I felt very safe in their hands.

This monitor which now lies snuggled somewhere in my ribcage will, over three years, keep a close eye on the bubbling popping and occasional stopping of my heart. What a dreadful thought. Anyway, after a much welcomed mug of sweet tea and tuna sandwich I was allowed to get dressed and go home, I thanked the staff, all of them, for their kindness.

After being given leaflets and advice I was handed a small grey oval shaped gadget which I MUST use if I feel anything untoward in the chest area.
Apparently I press a button wait for a green light then clasp it to the spot where the monitor is hiding and that will relay a message into the aforementioned monitor which will in turn be transmitted to the cardiac doctor.
Isn't medicine wonderful? And isn't our NHS the best? Yes on both counts.

My chest is quite something.
I have a bruise the size of a plum, same colour too, an enormous clear plaster covering a bit of lint which covers the incision point. I tenderley brushed a finger over it and felt a hard bump, bit like a speed bump.I know what lies beneath because I saw it the other day, it's demur appearance belies its power Small things eh!

Nurse Joanne gave me a booklet to read..
I'm to keep electric handwhisks, mobile phones, e readers, power tools, electric pet fences and toothbrushes away from my ches along with a host of other stuff. Also on the no-go near the breast list are ignitions (!) lawnmowers,  but the funniest one was.... Alarmed Supermarket Exits! WHEN I APPROACH ONE PUSHING MY TROLLEY I MUST NOT STOP NEAR IT, TOUCH IT, I MUST WALK RAPIDY TH|ROUGH IT. IF THE ALARM SHOULD SOUND AND I'M POUNCED ON BY A SECURITY GUARD I'M TO SHOW HIM MY SPECIAL CARD WHICH WILL TELL HIM I'M WIRED. AND HE THEREFORE MUST LET ME GO FREE.
God, as if I don't have enough worry...

Can't have a bath either or shower in case the glue melts (stitches are so last century)
I will though be able to have flannel wash down carefully avoiding the wound. All this to-do simply because I had a stroke.

I feel though that this year will be a turning point for me, after the bungalow is sold and I'm embedded in the Tin Cottage I'll do nothing but live...
After all 60 is the new 50!

Now I finish stretching and straining my arms (I'm typing on my lap top at a distance) don't want my gizmo to implode in my chest cavity.......................................................................................