New year's Eve 2012 - Resolutions

The resolutions I came up with for 2012 have worked out pretty well, so I think I'll stick with them for the coming year. I deliberately chose resolutions that would be easy to keep, that were slightly "good", and that would make me feel good about life, and myself, and the world in general. I really, really, don't need to set myself up to fail!

So, here they are:

1. Take a charity bag (unspecified size) with some (unspecified quantity) unwanted stuff (unspecified contents) to a charity shop at least once a month.

Some months I forgot to take any, but then in other months I took two bags. When my parents were moving I took loads of their stuff (hey, I never specified WHOSE stuff had to be taken to the charity shop!) By the way, I have discovered that our AgeUK shop will take rags, and all those irritating little snips of fabric left over from dressmaking and patchwork.

I reckon I probably came close to keeping this one. Think I'll "bank" some bags by taking several in January to get ahead.

2. Eat some chocolate every week.

I didn't keep track of how well I did with this resolution last year either, but I reckon that I kept to it  well enough. My piano pupils have ensured that I have enough to get started on this resolution from tomorrow without delay.












I might add a new resolution; light some candles from time to time. Today I used the last of a box of festive extra-long matches handed over to us by friends when they emigrated about 20 years ago. I used it to light the advent candle, which has only got as far as day 6.










I've also lit the "God Jul" twirly-whirly that we brought back from a memorable trip to Copenhagen just before Christmas 2010. It seems an appropriate message for tonight. (Yes, I do know that "God" means "Good" - but I enjoy the double reading)







In a couple of hours we will go round to my father's flat and see in the New Year with him, and my brother's family.

What will the New Year bring?

I visited my mother with my father and brother this afternoon for a "goal-setting" meeting. There are some formidable obstacles to be overcome if there is to be any chance of her coming home. At the moment she needs two nurses to move her, see to her personal needs, reposition her in her chair or in the bed. She has no connection with her left side at all yet. If she came home, she would need carers to come in the morning, at lunchtime, and in the evening to get her up, take her to the toilet, and tuck her up at night, all a two person job using a hoist. Once in bed, she would have to stay there until the morning. I doubt she could be left alone in the flat for any length of time during the day or night.  

On the plus side, she is still improving little by little, mentally and physically. It's just that there will have to be a "step change" in the rate of progress, in every area, physically and mentally. We'll meet again for another review in three weeks, and then decisions can be made, will have to be made. Until then - well, there's some hard work to be done by all of us.

I think I'll just eat some chocolate now.

Saturday 29th December - Have-a-go day

Yesterday we went out in the horrible, cold, wet, dank, dreary, rainy afternoon, and drove through the dusk to an art shop. I was on a quest for Derwent Artbars, which I thought might be a way back into art for my mother, and also because I wanted to trry them as a way into art for myself.

 

As well as the artbars, I wanted to look at another Derwent product called "inktense"; bars (like crayons) and pencils, with water soluble inks.

 

The quest was successful; and I came home with an irresistibly reduced box of inktense pencils and a tin of artbars (for another post). 

 

Test the colours

 

 

Draw the outlines in permanent marker

 

Colour in the ground

And wash over

Colour in the sky

And another wash

 

 

And be very pleased with myself. I think I'll go back over the hedge line once the sky is drier and make it less sparse.

 

It's the kind of view that I have watched unfolding night after night as we slogged over to the hospital. Most of the journey is through trading estates, but one or two stretches have views of field and sky.

 

At the moment my mother has a bed by the window. The ground floor of the hospital is a kind of semi-basement, but the silhouettes of the trees against the sky that she can see from her bed is important for her.  

Christmas Day 2012 - Not quite according to the Master Plan

"Plans are nothing; planning is everything."  Dwight D Eisenhower

I always create a Master Plan for Christmas Day.

It is roughly based on the plan at the end of Delia Smith's "Christmas" cookery book - timings for turkey in, foil off, turkey out to rest for 45 mins, potatoes in, potatoes out, make the gravy, set the table, open the presents, blah blah blah...

The trick is to have several sheets of paper, a pencil, sharpener, rubber, and finally a biro all to hand.

You put in the fixed points;

9:30 leave for church
10:00 - 11:00 Church service (that was a guess as we have a new vicar - in previous years I would have added half an hour. In fact we gained 15 minutes at this point as the service was only 45 minutes long)
11:00 - 11:15 chatting with friends before we leave
11:30 back home

next fixed point:
2:30 sit and eat

from there you can work backwards and forwards working out what happens when, scribbling revised timings here, tearing out some hair, trying again, having another slurp of sherry - did I not mention sherry as one of the things needed for doing the planning? - going and making a coffee, and then, suddenly, the whole thing falls into place. Ink over the scribbles with a biro, write it out in neat, get someone to check it through. Done. The Perfect Plan.

This year's plan had to include visiting the hospital with smoked salmon before the meal,
8:30 slice and butter bread, top with salmon, add lemon wedges, pack pepper mill
9:00 choose and pack presents for opening at the hospital
11:45 hospital visiting hours start
12:45 home in time to take foil off the turkey - we were l bit later than planned for that, but it was fine.

We were going to eat the first course at our house, visit the hospital again at about 4:30, then back to my father's flat for pudding and more present opening afterwards.

9:00 am choose suitable presents for opening at the flat (get things done ahead if possible!)
3:45 make turkey sandwiches, prepare plate with sandwiches, mince pie, Waitrose stollen bites
4:00 pack mince pies, apple pies, jam tarts (the last two being a family tradition), Christmas Pudding, cream, brandy butter, rum butter, stollen
4:15 leave for hospital

The Master Plan ran like clockwork; perfect, every detail dovetailed. We even had a 15 minute breathing space early on, thanks to the church service being shorter than expected.

Perfect - until the electric cooker stopped working, fusing all the electrics in the house just I was taking the turkey out to rest. Now what? I stood and surveyed the par-boiled potatoes, par-boiled parsnips, frozen sprouts (actually, they were rather nasty and I won't buy them again), turkey stock to be made into gravy, raw carrots, ingredients for bread sauce all sitting in a pan...

Quick phone call to my father - "we're coming over in 10 minutes - could you put your oven on at 200C!"

While the turkey was being carved and put into a serving dish, I packed everything into containers and pans and bags, and we decamped with the whole lot to my father's flat.

And there we had a Good Enough Christmas Dinner. We had good food, and family, and fun, and we have the pictures to prove it. 

Christmas Eve - How silently, how silently

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hirtenfeld_bei_Bethlehem.jpg

How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given...

by Philip Brooks; copy of MS of first verse
from wikipedia

The line I quoted comes from the third verse, my favourite in this carol. I don't think I have ever seen the fourth verse before. I've put all the verses up at the end of this post.

Last year, Advent was a wonderful time.

I followed the "Natwivity" on facebook, impatient for each character in the age-old story to add their posts. The shepherds cracking terrible jokes, the three wise men, called "Wise, Wiser, Wisest" discussing what to do next, the whole drama of what would Joseph do when he found out that Mary was expecting someone else's child. People could comment on the story as it unfolded, encouraging Joseph to "stay with Mary, it will all work out", capping the shepherd's jokes, booing and hissing everything that Herod said.

One of the blogs I follow, at www.ibenedictines.org. posted about the "O antiphons", which I had never heard of before, giving the text, a soundclip of the plainsong chant, and a reflection for each of them. (Actually, as I discovered, everyone knows the "O antiphons", but as the Advent hymn "O come, O come Emmanuel").

There was a brilliant BBC drama of the nativity story, broadcast in several episodes.

The Beatbox nativity was another highlight. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyuzSzdpE38

On the non-religious side I had my wonderful Jacquie Lawson Advent calendar on my laptop, and a chocolate advent calendar.

Last year I was immersed in the whole Advent experience.

This year has been very different. I have been a week behind with the chocolate calendar at least twice. The advent candle has only burned down as far as 8. I haven't opened the Jacquie Lawson calendar for days and days - I have no idea where to begin to catch up. I am way behind with where the natwivity has got to in the story line, the O antiphons came and went without me, and when I finally made it to church yesterday, they lit all four candles on the advent ring in one go. Faith, Hope, Love, Joy, Peace? I have no idea what they represent.

All is not entirely lost: I have discovered this delightful version of the nativity, courtesy of Twitter:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM1XusYVqNY

Christmas has crept upon me, how silently, how silently. The blessings of His Heaven are there to be seen, in the incremental improvements for my mother. OK, so her left side still doesn't function. Yet. But mentally, physically, emotionally - I have to admit that there is a long way to go. But if I look back, I can see clearly just how far we have come.

And if I waver at any time, I only have to look back at the photograph I took on the first day. I only have to see how well she was able to lift her head this evening, with proper control, and keep it steady in order to talk to me, when she was lying flat on her back waiting for the nurse to finish putting her to bed. I only have to hold her left hand, or massage her left foot, to see how much looser and more flexible the joints are. She can endure sitting in the chair for several hours now, she can cope with standing in the support frame for 15 minutes.

I have no idea how far along the dark streets we will be able to travel. But I can look back and see how far we have come.

 1. O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee to-night.

2. O morning stars, together
Proclaim the holy birth!
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth.
For Christ is born of Mary
And gathered all above,
While mortals sleep the Angels keep
Their watch of wondering love.

3. How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given;
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His Heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still,
The dear Christ enters in.

4. Where children pure and happy
Pray to the blessed Child,
Where misery cries out to Thee,
Son of the Mother mild;
Where Charity stands watching
And Faith holds wide the door,
The dark night wakes, the glory breaks,
And Christmas comes once more.

5. O holy Child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray!
Cast out our sin and enter in,
Be born in us to-day.
We hear the Christmas angels,
The great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
Our Lord Emmanuel!

1698 de Bruijin View of Bethlehem, Palestine (Israel, Holy Land) - Geographicus - Bethlehem-bruijn-1698.jpg  wikipedia

Saturday 22nd December - The New TV

We have installed The New TV. It has a whopping great 32 inch screen, replacing our old 23 inch screen tv that we bought, oh, seven or so years ago. I remember someone saying "you'd better make sure you close the curtains at night - that's a HUGE screen you've got now and might tempt thieves " when we replaced the even older tv with the 23 inch screen.

This one has been positioned as far away from the settee as we can get, and gleams blackly at us when switched off. The first programme I sat and watched was "Masterchef"; Michel Roux's eyes mesmerisingly huge as he glared at the camera as he demanded "it must be PERFECT". I shrank back into the cushions and prayed that he could not see the ordinary platefuls of "mince-and-veg-and pasta" that we were having for supper, sitting on the settee n front of The Box.

I'm planning to launch a new TV channel (in my dreams) called "wallpaper". You will be able to choose from "cosy coal fire",

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/wales/4461572.stm

 "wood burning stove"

http://www.directstoves.com/

 "aquarium",

http://www.worldofwater.co.uk/pages/Setting-Up-A-Tropical-Aquarium:-Introduction.html

"view from the train" (you should position your chairs sideways on to the screen for this one),

http://www.visitsouthdevon.co.uk/information-and-map/train-travel

Actually, I am procrastinating again. I still haven't done anything about sorting out the dining-room.

Friday 21st December - One Step enough for me

Lead, kindly Light, amid th'encircling gloom,
lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
lead thou me on!
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
the distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou
shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
lead thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
pride ruled my will: remember not past years!

So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still
will lead me on.
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
the night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

Words: John Henry Newman, 1833
Music: Alberta, Lux Benigna, Sandon Meter: 10 4 10 4 10 10

This rather gloomy hymn is a favourite from boarding school days. We sang it to "Alberta"; you can hear the tune played by a rather unlikely looking organist here:
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkKLeZtRyJ8,

Sometimes, for example, when faced by trying to get ready for Christmas in a few days time, the distant scene is an impossibility, and taking life one step at a time is the only way.

Regular readers will know that I have an on-going battle with the dining room table. Well, right now, the dining room (and, to be totally truthful, our bedroom, and the kitchen, in fact, the whole house) is, to be short and to the point, a mess.

The to-do list is bursting out of its neat columns, items are adding themselves faster than I can tick them off.

So I'll give it all up as a bad job for today, and start again tomorrow. One step at a time. Till "the night is gone". 

Friday 21st December - Less is more

 

I have finally finished the school teaching and the piano teaching for this year - Phew.

I must admit that I cheated yesterday; I taught the same lesson three times, first to the lower juniors, then to the infants, and finally to the upper juniors, with slight variations;


the action/game song "My hat it has three corners",
http://www.themusicjungle.co.uk/live/2011/08/19/my-hat-it-has-three-corners-venetian-carnival/



then listen to Ronald Binge's "Venetian Carnival" (you can hear it here)
http://www.prestoclassical.co.uk/w/194111


and finally illustrate the story in the music; the carnival, party, brass band, dancing, fireworks, "fill the page with lots of colour and excitement, and yes, you may use Felt Tips".

The same lesson worked very well for each age group - they all enjoyed the singing game, especially when I added a competitive element "if you sing the word that we are leaving out, YOU are out and have to sit down".

"Colouring-in-to-music" is the most despised of all music lessons in the ofsted report on teaching music in schools. Hopefully I would have escaped censure by including "singing", "internalising", "listening with attention to detail", "using expressive language to describe music ideas", "aural recognition",  before "responding creatively to music" - i e colouring to music - at the end...

It was about all the children were fit for at the end of a very, very long term, and about all that I was fit for as well!

There comes a point where you have to cut yourself some slack. Enough will be an ample sufficiency. We are not going to be able to manage the whole home-made, Nigella-Delia-Heston Christmas this year; still, I have bought a turkey, and all kinds of goodies from the supermarket (it was almost empty at 5pm last night - hurrah!) and It Will Be Great. Like Patrick Stewart says as Captain Picard in Startrek, "Make it so".


I have no idea what kind of a Christmas occasion they will manage at the hospital, but we will do our best, and make the best of it. I have no doubt that there will be tears and laughter, smiles and sadness, but we will have a Merry Time.

As my mother said, oh, almost a month ago now, "we have been so very lucky".   





 

Tuesday 19th December - EXPLOSION!

My husband tells the story of what happened, many, many years ago when they let one of those "boil-in-the-tin" chocolate sponge puddings boil dry in a friend's kitchen.





Apparently it sprayed a fine dusting of chocolate sponge all over everywhere. Things were worse than they might have been, because it was an old-fashioned farmhouse kitchen, with an old-fashioned Oxford airer, fully loaded with clean washing, over the old-fashioned Aga.  



My father tells the story of what happened, many, many years ago, when they decided to make beef stew with dumplings in the pressure cooker.


Apparently the dumplings combined themselves into a giant dumpling, filling every available space inside the cooker, including the safety valve, until finally everything gave way and the kitchen was coated in dumpling-ness.






I can now add a new story; what happens when you don't drink your raspberry and cranberry juice drink which you bought last week sometime,

and carried around in your backpack all week,

and then shake up to mix the contents,

before deciding NOT to drink it after all,

and putting it, unopened, in the kitchen sink. They say that a picture contains a thousand words...


but this only gives half the picture. The rest of the fermented slurry was on the floor, on the cupboards behind me, on the back door to the right of the window, on the door to the hall to the left of the window, in the fruit basket; in short, everywhere. There were no witnesses, as the explosion was sudden and silent.

It didn't take that long to clear up as the splodges were still liquid. The person with the longest arms (that let me off) dealt with it. The tricky bit was finding the last splodge. There's always another last splodge after you thought you've mopped the last splodge.

Pressure builds up, and some kind of slow release system is an important part of many safety systems. We are all feeling pressured in the family at the moment. My mother is desperate to be better. Not being able to fend for herself, and being reliant on the nurses for everything is proving frustrating and depressing in equal measures. And the rest of the family is also feeling pressure; organising who is visiting when, remembering clean clothes, thinking of things to take in, like paper handkerchiefs, hand cream, delicious snacks, magazines...

We are all responding to the pressure in different ways. I have been leaving bits and pieces in schools all over the county; my speaker system is at one school and I might manage to remember it tomorrow. Or not. A warm and welcoming staffroom in a village school ten miles away is harbouring, all unawares, my half-eaten lunch in a lunch bag. I really, really hope there was no meat or banana in it, as I'm not due at that school until 15th January. I do know that I had soup in one flask, and porridge in another flask for lunch that day .....

Pressure as exerted by particle collisions inside a
closed container, from Wikipedia article on pressure

Emotional fragility, tiredness, crabbiness, forgetfulness - all these have to be coped with, kept under control during visits, and then released in a safe space, at a safe time, in a safe way. It's no good trying to keep everything contained all the time.

We mopped up the raspberry and cranberry juice with paper towels, and the evidence is almost gone - just a few suspiciously extra-clean patches on the ceiling. Our individual pressure releases can mostly be mopped up too, leaving a few suspiciously bright remarks,
some over-cheerful smiles, slightly shiny eyes.
  

Wednesday 12/12/12 - When I grow up...

When I grow up - which means when I no longer spend all my days teaching music - when means that I AM a grown up for 13 weeks of the year, come to think of it (two weeks at Christmas, two weeks at Easter, six weeks in the summer, and the three half terms in between) - when I grow up, I'm going to spend all my time painting the sky.

Oh ha ha, yeah, I heard the one about a long enough ladder yesterday. You are too late.

The skies are a feature of the daily roistering through the countryside from one school to the next. I am constantly distracted by wondering how I would go about recreating the effect of clouds, shading, colours, tree silhouettes...

Inks, probably, for the intense blues of late dusk. Indian ink for the silhouettes of the trees, washed over with every shade of blue garnets. I love Jan Pienkowski's illustrations:



http://www.janpienkowski.com/books/silhouette/1001/1001nights.htm

Watercolours for grey clouds. There is an amazing gif of a bird drawing created from water and ink. http://salt4life.tumblr.com/post/22692302005/i-make-gifs (I found it courtesy of JohntheLutheran's tumblr site.)



I WANT to do this! The clouds were exactly like this a few days ago, not like birds, OBVIOUSLY but pale at the top and heavy with rain at the bottom edge.

Water colour pencils for early morning skies; pinks, blues, even a touch of yellow; all pale, delicate pastels. This kind of thing, but the colours more connected, less pencil-stroky. I hope Vivienb (whoever she is) won't mind me copying it here...

http://vivienb.blogspot.co.uk/2009/05/sennen-cove-cornwall-dawn-coloured.html

I'm going to have to follow her blog; http://vivienb.blogspot.co.uk/
just check out these cats:  http://vivienb.blogspot.co.uk/p/cats.html

Anyway, back on topic...

Acrylics for the hot deep blue skies with bright white clouds in Summer? Can't remember. Summer was so long ago.   



The only problem is that it will take time... time...                                 and   patience.

Patience is what we will all need - my mother, the staff, us family... She is working away at getting better; a brace to straighten her knee, exercises, enduring sitting in a chair, coping with The Hoist, a lifty thing that is used to swing patients in and out of bed. We tried playing patience the other night; I dealt the cards, and she shifted them about, or indicated what needed to be moved where. I suppose that's a mini-step on the road to returning to the bridge club?

Monday 10th December - a hazelnut in the hand

This little hazelnut lives in the pocket of the jacket I wear most days. Normally, I never see it, never take it out, but today I had a look, and found that it has become polished to a gentle gleaming shine all over.

I keep it in my pocket because of Julian of Norwich, and her famous "showings"



St. Julian, as depicted in the church of SS Andrew and Mary, Langham, Norfolk.
from wikipedia

"Because of our good Lord's tender love to all those who shall be saved, he quickly comforts them, saying, 'The cause of all this pain is sin. But all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

She says it three times, so it must be true......

 
It reminds me of "The Hunting of the Snark" by Lewis Carroll, which begins

``Just the place for a Snark!'' the Bellman cried,

As he landed his crew with care;

Supporting each man on the top of the tide

By a finger entwined in his hair.

       

 

``Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:

That alone should encourage the crew.

Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:

What I tell you three times is true.''

You can read the whole poem here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173165. Somewhere in the house we have "The Annotated Snark" with copious footnotes by Martin Gardner. I have taken the illustrations from the wikipedia entry which is also full of information. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hunting_of_the_Snark

A bit irreverent, maybe, to swap between a nonsense poem and mystical writings. Richard Dawkins would be full  of an unholy glee at this juxtaposition of sacredness and insanity.

Where does the hazelnut come into it? Here is another paragraph from Julian of Norwich:

He is oure clothing, that for love wrappeth us and windeth us, halseth us and all becloseth us, hangeth about us for tender love, that he may never leeve us. And so in this sight I saw that he is all thing that is good, as to my understanding”
And in this, shewed me a little thing the quantity of an haselnot, lying in the palme of my hand as me semide, and it was as rounde as any balle. I looked theran with the eye of my understanding, and thought: ‘What may this be?’ And it was answered generally thus: ‘It is all that is made.’ I marvayled how it might laste, for methought it might sodenly have fallen to nought for littlenes. And I was answered in my understanding: ‘It lasteth and ever shall, for God loveth it. And so hath all thing being by the love of God.’
-Julian of Norwich (1343-1416), A Revevlation of Love 5.13 

My mother has made it to the stroke rehabilitation ward. It is a scary place to be, at first; uprooted from the tender care of the nurses that she has made friends with, and thrust among strangers, nurses and patients, in a strange place with different colour scheme, different lighting levels, different routine, different visiting hours. The reality of rehabilitation starts today. I'm sure that the care will be just are tender, just as professional, but from now on they will be doing everything it takes to get her left side mobile again. It is going to hurt, mentally and physically.
It is going to take mental and physical strength and courage.

I'll say it three times, so it must be true. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.   



And, after all, the Snark was a Boojum, you see.


 

Friday 7th November - Paradise Stomp

Today was music exam day for 15 children. Well, for many more than 15, but that was the number that I was scheduled to accompany.

Mostly they were doing their first ever exams; a flock of flautists all negotiating the intricacies of "Greensleeves" and "Hot Chilli"; a clutch of clarinetists puffing through "Andante" and "Funeral March" and a - well, a group of violinists wrestling with "Mattachins", "Daisy Bell" and "Dvorak" - not the composer, but a national dance. I hadn't thought of Dvorak being the name of a dance - like having the surname "March" or "Round", maybe.

I might be playing the accompaniment for the same piece over and over again, but each candidate plays it differently. Mostly they get the timing and the notes right, but you  have to be alert for idiosyncrasies. One of the "Daisy Bell" players had no sense of three-beats-in-a-bar, so I had to be ready to accompany whatever she was playing at whatever moment she decided to play it. I needed a mixture of lightning reflexes and telepathic anticipation of what would happen next.

In between, I accompanied some more advanced players, with accompaniments that are far more taxing. One was playing a contemporary piece called "Paradise Stomp" which is demanding for both player and accompanist. I'm not sure what happened at the bottom of the third page. I'm fairly certain that in the stress of the moment she cut short a couple of top notes but I had my too hands full, literally, to be sure. Further chaos ensued throughout page 4 as we tried to get back together. I had her part written above my music, and every time I thought I knew where she had got to, everything changed and I had to search again, while continuing to keep the rhythm and play something approximating to the right notes. We did manage to find each other, and stick together, for the final page.

I have no idea what the examiner thought of our rendition (have you ever noticed that the word "render" has two meanings; to give, and also to tear into pieces?). I smiled encouragingly as I left the room, and hoped for the best.

I found that piece going round and round in my head when I was in that half-awake, half-asleep state the next evening and morning.

We had good news; my mother has been transferred to the stroke rehab ward in a hospital about 10 miles closer to our home. The round trip of 40 miles through tangled traffic has been very taxing, and the shorter journey time will be most welcome.
  

Friday 7th December - Where did the week go?

Dear Reader,

I am living in a demented time machine, where the minutes flash past like seconds; a day lasts barely an hour, and a week is over in the space of an afternoon.

The alarm goes, and minutes later it is time for bed again.

There has been frost, rain, sleet, and, briefly, snow; real snow, the big fluffy-flake sort of snow. looking at the weather forecast, and looking out of the window, there is to be more snow today. I believe them.

 

 

The camera on my phone does its best, but cannot convey the way that the mass of clouds is growing even as I watch. I'm glad that today is a "local" day - usually I wend my way through the maze of country lanes that connects the village schools where I teach.

 

There have been school concerts - three of them - where the children have displayed their skills on ukuleles, djembes, and stunned the school and parents into a shocked silence at samba (that was a VERY LOUD concert!).

 

There have been music exams for my piano pupils. There has even been a little tiny bit of Christmas shopping; I went back the the Place of the Cornish Pasty and scoured the gift shop for likely presents.

 

There was a trip to the Portsmouth Naval Dockyard for their Victorian Christmas Day. That was Sunday; a bitingly cold day with clear blue skies.

 

  

 

Today, I will be accompanying fifteen children at instrumental music exams. Then home to teach, then off to a choir practise, then sleeeeeeepppp.

 

My mother has been moved into another bay in the stroke unit. Medically, she is ready for transfer to a nearby hospital where they have a rehab centre. However, she is experiencing such pain in her left shoulder and left leg, that they cannot give her the physiotherapy that she needs to get mobile again. It is clear that one cannot predict the recovery path of stroke patients. It is not at all like - say - cataract operations, or broken legs, or many other conditions.

Her left arm is clamped across her chest, the fingers curled into her palm, and resists any attempt to be moved. When I tried imitating this, I found that my shoulder immediately became painful - could this be what she is feeling? How does one go about releasing this tension? They are going to give her botox!

At least she is now well enough to be bored. This is a great improvement!     

Wednesday 28th November - half an hour of breathing

On Wednesday I somehow managed to create a gap between schools that was long enough to chill out in a warm and welcoming venue:

I had an excellent hot cornish pasty, and a pot of Proper Tea made with a posh "teapig" teabag instead of the usual cheapo economy job. The cornish pasty got "et" before I could photograph it.

The cafe was bustling in a low-key, cheerful way, and the gift shop area full of good ideas which I shall follow up for Christmas shopping next week, when I will hopefully be able to return.

Outside it was WINTER. The sun was just about shining;

 but there was a cold, bracing breeze, determined clouds and dripping icy rain.

My mother had a bit of a reverse this week; forward progress was put on hold. Who would have thought that stroke patients would be in such pain? Her "disregarded" leg seems very prone to severe cramp; and I have often spent time in visits working away at it to try and relax the spasm. Who can do this for her when I am not there? However, as this post has been written at the weekend, I can report that things have improved since then.