On Being Blessed

I haven't written much lately because I've been a bit down - I don't like being ill; I don't like being old; I don't like not being able to see clearly; I don't like being four and a half hours drive away from my boys. These things, however, are sent to try us - or so I was brought up to believe: What can't be cured must be endured; stiff upper lip; put on a brave face; worse things happen at sea, and all that.

Here's a pic of an 'angel' that flew over Devon earlier this week (click to enlarge): Beautiful isn't it?



I'd like to think that someone is watching over me too but I have the feeling that, if they are, they're shaking their heads in disbelief at the moment as they watch me struggling with boxes, moving 'things' from one place to another and seemingly getting nowhere. I'd rather be in the garden where I know I can do something creative - the potatoes and onions are coming on a treat

and I've just re-potted some perennials suitable

for the shady backyard so next year could be, fingers crossed, a riot of colour. I've also made a small enclosure at the front to plant a climbing rose - Joseph's Coat, a prolific yellow/pink beauty in memory of my Mum and Dad - and some Spring bulbs (daffs, snowdrops, crocus, tulips - there are already bluebells self-seeding in the cracks) to remind me that Winter is over and a new year beckons.



I've also bought vegetable seeds, some of which need planting this month and next, latest, for harvesting in Spring along with some glorious Hollyhocks. This garden will have life returned to it if it's the last thing I do :) I tried to tempt birds into the back with a state-of-the-art BirdsRUs feeding centre but, sadly, they've resolutely refused to dine there - I must think about moving it to the front (with my veg seeds? *gulps*)

For sowing this month: Broad Bean 'Aquadulce Claudia'; Pea 'Meteor'; Spring Onion 'Performer', and Cauliflower 'Gypsy'.

I was at the docs today - just tests and checks, the results of which will be known in a couple of weeks. Next week I'm back to the hospital for further tests on my eyes. I'm already short-listed for a cataract operation (one eye only - it seems the NHS can't run to doing both) but something else is going on so fingers crossed all round. I don't like pills but if something could sort out my eyes I'd take it gladly. Suki is also mooching now that the weather has changed from sunny to thundery; he's sneezing and his eyes are runny. I guess you can take the cat out of Spain but you can't the siesta out of the cat. Here he is, doing what he does best:

Apart from that it's just politics that bothers me: all this unaccountability. Even our own Westminster MPs are only accountable once every five years and it isn't good enough; they call it democracy but I don't think it is. They talk of localism and Big Society when in actuality it's nothing more than throwing crumbs at us while the European Commission and the UN dictate the policies and member state governments couch diktats in terms they strive to make acceptable to us. I do wish my children would wake up to the threat but, living in London, they can't see the wood for the trees.

It only remains to be noted, lest we forget, that this weekend is Battle of Britain Weekend and RAF Cosford is putting on a spiffing show. Chocks away!

All is for the best...

... in the best of all possible worlds or, to put it in English: 'mustn't grumble'.

Day One of the drops: one drop every two hours in left eye and one drop every four hours in the right. Tick.
Day Two: Only three times today - been out and about so couldn't stick to the regime - not looking hopeful for establishing a routine!

Have found a fab hairdresser; he was recommended by B, a neighbour, mainly because of price but I'd recommend him for doing a great job as well. He's the first since 1997/98 to give me the haircut I asked for all those years ago. Top tip: don't wear makeup when going to the hairdresser. Go completely bare-faced and if you look more gorgeous going out than you did going in then you know you've struck gold. If anyone wants his name/telno etc just email me and I'll be happy to pass it on. He also has a lovely little terrier called B who's a soft sweetheart. There are no frills, no added extras, just a good honest job. When I had my hair cut & highlighted in London it cost £108 - this time it's barely a third of that so that's another plus.

I now have two Cabbage Whites hovering and laying their eggs on my brassicas - I feel bad chasing them off but it's either them or me. I've found quite a few tiny green specks of caterpillars on the underside of the leaves and I'm squeamish about squashing so I've bought some organic pest control before I'm left with nothing at all.

P and C have almost finished the ch/hot water/bathroom. They would have finished today but when it came to fitting the bidet they discovered a manufacturing fault so the company is sending out a new one that will get here on Friday. The boys are taking tomorrow off anyway to let the system run and bed in and it also gives me time to go from room to room with my pen and notebook and make another 'little list' of what still needs to be done. There are only two more major-ish jobs I can think of at the moment: one is bookshelves, of which I need many all over the house, and the other is re-plastering the walls in the dining room alcove where there was once a cupboard housing a hot water cylinder - oh, and the fireplace that housed the Baxi back boiler. I need to measure up and find some nice Art Nouveau-ish tiles for that. It's all go!

The worst job, which I keep putting off, is to go through the piles of clothing on the floor and in the wardrobes and sort through them to see what still fits after two years in storage, what is still suitable given I'm no longer in Spain and a special bin bag (or three) for 'oh no, what was I thinking?' clothes.  Then it will all have to be washed, ironed and put somewhere.   On the other hand I could just bin the lot and start again - infinitely more preferable but definitely more expensive.  It looks like I have no choice but to pull my finger out.

I ordered the special carpet for the bathroom today so that should be fitted next week and at least one room will be decent. It's a gel-backed, waterproof, stain-proof, soft underfoot, marine blue and should look very nice indeed. The bath is fantastic - I must be a hedonist at heart - and everything is looking good to go. When everything gets too much I'll be able to lock myself in a lovely bathroom, surround myself with heavenly scents and drift away.

I hope it's all finished before too long because the Princess Theatre has some shows I'd love to see: Jersey Nights; Welsh National Opera; Sean Locke, the Vienna Festival Ballet and, say it softly, Rat Pack Live, which is some sort of tribute to Sinatra, Martin and Davis Jr ("charisma, panache and swagger").

Back soon with updates on the drops; they say it can take up to six weeks for definite improvement so I'll continue until I notice something - anything :)

Through a glass, darkly

Have been diagnosed with cataracts, of all things; I can't say I'm thrilled but it explains a great deal.  Nil desperandum and all that so I'm going to try THESE before submitting to surgery and I'll let you know how I get on.

I can't help but think (a) the drops would be more widely known about by now if they were truly effective, and, (b) I noticed that in the supporting video clip there was no mention of a product name - it was simply implied.  Still, anything's worth trying at this stage.  Will post updates :)

P, the builder, and C, the plumber, have been a pair of Stoics for the past two weeks.  The central heating and hot water system was thirty years old and pretty much defunct so they've done some serious work to install a new system, together with a new bathroom since they had to go there anyway (the only place the new boiler could go and once you're moving the loo, what about everything else?).  I think I should have been offering them home-made iced lemonade rather than tea and coffee but there you go.

It's a funny old house: the more you uncover the worse it gets.  Have found some rotten plaster and old tiles (black, of all colours) on the bathroom walls, hidden behind some lovely and innocuous white-painted weatherboarding.  And don't get me started on the slugs! I went on slug patrol the night before last and captured six in a daring shoes-on, vomit-bag-at-the-ready 2am raid.

I'm not looking for trouble, trouble came looking for a blonde and it found me:



Torquay continues to enchant.  When I walk out it's as though I'm in a Disney wonderland of happy, smiley English people and I can't remember the last time it was like this - probably when I was back home in Yorkshire.  The Devonshire people are fiercely proud and rightly so; it's only London that isn't with us.  London has always been a City in its own right with its own Police Force; the HQ of financial centres; working all the hours God sends; immigrants, and welfare. It's strangely ironic that Canary Wharf, home to multi-national Banks and epitomising the money-creating financial sector, is situated in Tower Hamlets, one of the most deprived Boroughs in the country.

My new phone came a couple of days ago and I took a lovely photo of a pair of tennis shoes while I was figuring out how it works.  Now that I have the capability I find I'm loath to post pics of ripped-out baths, radiators and boilers for you so instead I'll try to find a cabbage in my raised bed that hasn't already been eaten by Cabbage Whites.

Back soon :)