Assuming that we start from the beginning of the church year - Advent - the following breakages have occurred in this household, causing greater, or occasionally lesser, inconvenience.
DECEMBER
1 various headlights and sidelights on my car - fixed yesterday (thank you kindly, Best Beloved)
2 The brand new Christmas lights failed the day after we put the tree up. This one could have been a real pain, except that we were able to take just the transformer section back to the garden centre, check it on their lights, and bring back a replacement. It would have been Very Annoying if we had had to undress the tree to remove the lights.
3 the washing machine started flashing all kinds of warning lights on Christmas Eve. A bit of heavy lifting and mucky draining on Christmas Morning dealt with the blocked filter.
4 the cooker - failed spectacularly on Christmas Day. This is worth a mega blog post on its own - the fourth, and maybe final? engineering visit is scheduled for Tuesday. Meanwhile it has been the recipient of a new element and a new fan so far, and is due a replacement motherboard (!). Cue a serious of rotten puns about how this mother is bored of waiting for the motherboard, and a Flanders and Swann classic;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOA_SUKEZRE (courtesy of boggyb)
JANUARY
5 the electric wall switch for the cooker (that's how the engineer discovered that a new element didn't fix the problem)
6 the bathroom light bulb; on investigation it was the ancient light fitting that had also failed. No matter. Bathing by candlelight is quite fun. Brushing one's teeth by torchlight is quite manageable. For a day. Or two. Or until the weekend.
7 The top drawer of the freezer fell out. It missed my foot, so that didn't get broken, but the drawer is missing a few bits of plastic
8 the warning light, saying various lights on my car are not working, is still glowing, redly, untruthfully, malevolently, in spite of All the bulbs being replaced and checked.
9 Our telephone handset; suddenly started feeling too hot to touch when removed from the base station unit. The new telephones are ok. I'll get used to the rather aggressive ring sound in time. There was a choice of 32 noises. The worst might have been the electronic rendition of Mozart's Turkish Rondo. Rendered is a good choice of word for the noise.
10 My sweet, darling, gorgeous, wonderful, idiosyncratic mp3 player. I use it every day when teaching, and at night, when I can't sleep, Joan Hickson reading "Miss Marple" stories sends me off in minutes. (DON'T rely on Peter Sallis reading Hercule Poirot to make you sleepy; his reading is too entertaining as somehow the accents of Grommit and M Poirot are hopelessly entangled). I had thought I was going to have to buy a new mp3 player today, but Best Beloved managed to force it to reset, and rebuilt it with all my music intact.
11 The nifty little LED clip-on spot we bought from IKEA has taken to twinkling in a most unsatisfactory way. Maybe flickering or wavering would be better descriptions. We have unplugged it pending further investigation.
12 Going to bed last night, BB opened a drawer in the chest of drawers. However the whole drawer front came off in his hands, leaving the rest of the drawer still in the chest, so to speak. No matter. In due course some wood glue and a little application of time and patience should sort that.
That's a round dozen. Admittedly 1, 4, 6, 9 and 10 are on the "done" list, leaving just 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 11, and 12 on the "outstanding" list.
We are NOT amused.
Addendum. Also broken is my ability to work out what has been mended and what has been fixed. BB has just pointed this out to me. I could now delete or correct the relevant paragraph, but I know The Man Across The Pond is going to enjoy spotting all my errors, so I'll leave them in for him.
Sunday, 27 January 2013
Saturday, 26 January 2013
Saturday 26th January - Spring; a Full Circle
I had always thought of the winter landscape as being rather colourless. I was sceptical of the wildly technicolour ipad paintings of David Hockney in the Royal Academy exhibition this time last year (I didn't go, but there was a lot of television coverage).
Then I looked closer, and spotted the acid greens and neon yellows were actually there, for real. The new spring growth in the fields truly is a lurid paint-box green.
I have been driving some of the route around the countryside for three or four years now, and look out for the various seasonal markers. Monday's road, outward bound, takes me past a place where a tree fires up with a magnesium-flare of white blossom against the rest of the woods, and, homeward, a churchyard becomes a carpet of pink, white and purple crocuses.
Tuesday is along the same roads, but not so far. I might miss the glorious flowers, but I still get to watch out for the sudden eruption of green leaves on the willows beside the hump-back bridge over the river.
Wednesdays, ah, Wednesdays! If I am able to take the back road, through narrow, twisty, hilly lanes that really belong in Cornwall, I will find the first daffodils (almost in flower last week - truly - in January!) and the first primroses on a sudden, south-facing bank, again, only seen when homeward bound, as from the other direction I am too busy watching the potholes and on-coming traffic to look out for them. Until next Wednesday, then.
Then I looked closer, and spotted the acid greens and neon yellows were actually there, for real. The new spring growth in the fields truly is a lurid paint-box green.
I have been driving some of the route around the countryside for three or four years now, and look out for the various seasonal markers. Monday's road, outward bound, takes me past a place where a tree fires up with a magnesium-flare of white blossom against the rest of the woods, and, homeward, a churchyard becomes a carpet of pink, white and purple crocuses.
Tuesday is along the same roads, but not so far. I might miss the glorious flowers, but I still get to watch out for the sudden eruption of green leaves on the willows beside the hump-back bridge over the river.
Wednesdays, ah, Wednesdays! If I am able to take the back road, through narrow, twisty, hilly lanes that really belong in Cornwall, I will find the first daffodils (almost in flower last week - truly - in January!) and the first primroses on a sudden, south-facing bank, again, only seen when homeward bound, as from the other direction I am too busy watching the potholes and on-coming traffic to look out for them. Until next Wednesday, then.
Saturday 26th January - Fraught
I had a lovely letter from a good friend today - 6 sides of news, and chit chat, and the goings-on over Christmas in her neck of the woods. It began
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| How come McVitie's Chocolate Digestive biscuits have a whole wikipedia page to themselves! P-e-lease! |
She has walloped several nails bang on the head.
"adding a little pleasure into my life"
Hey! Don't underestimate how much a I love receiving letters through the mail, real letters, sliding between the catalogues and bills and junk mail and charity bags that disport themselves over the doormat! A corner, with a few letters of a word in real handwriting, just peeking between the brown enveloped harbingers of doom and hassle piled hap-hazard in a heap. YES! You letters has added "great" deal of pleasure" into my life. I pounced upon it with exclamations of delight, and then set it to one side, ready to savour properly, alongside a chocolate biscuit and cup of coffee after the dreary dross of the humdrum letters had been dealt with.
and how! When my mother first had the stroke, I needed to keep a great diary of who had rung, who needed calling back, who needed a letter as they weren't on email, who needed emails, who was visiting the hospital and when, latest updates from the hospital staff, what needed to be taken in to the hospital... Then there was my teaching, which involves planning and travelling and remembering which instruments to load into the car each morning... and my own routine/extra appointments for clinics and doctors and blood tests to factor in. Plus cancelling and re-arranging any of the above as the situation ebbed and flowed!
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| http://www.brightondailyphoto.com/2011/01/tightrope-walker-brighton-beach.html |
"Fraught"
Until I read that word in her letter, I hadn't thought of it in connection with the past three months at all. It hit me with the force of a blow - (needed another biscuit straight away).
Yes, "fraught" is exactly the word.
I feel as though I have been walking a tightrope between everyone's needs and emotions (including my own - over the years I have learnt to be self-aware, and even down-right self-ish, in order to preserve my self). The tightrope has been swaying in the forces that disturb what little stability it provided for traversing the chasm that has appeared between then - 29th October - and now - 26th January. So far I haven't actually fallen off; wobbled a lot, slipped a few times, even needed catching by watchful members of the family around me.
We have all been walking our personal tightropes, with greater or lesser experience and skill.
Everything is not as it seems. When I found this picture (googling away), I assumed that the man was poised high above the rooftops. If you go to the source, you will find that he is only a foot above the ground.
That is quite a good metaphor for our family: we have been undergoing a major, cataclysmic disruption to our lives. But the professionals all around us have seen it all before. Without wishing to reduce the impact of anything, or belittle any of the physical, emotional, and mental, pain and suffering that encompasses our family, this is their daily experience and work. They have a huge experience and reservoir of knowledge of what will ultimately prove to be the best way forward.
And the best news of all - we are now in the middle of making arrangements for my mother to return home in a few week's time, once the equipment has been ordered and delivered, and the "care package" - home visits by carers and therapists - is all in place. There were times when this never, ever, seemed anything but an impossible dream.
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Sunday 13th January - Interactive book with no batteries?
Look; if I am likely to only post at weekends at the moment, instead of at regular intervals through the week, then YOU have to decide if you are going to read all the posts in one go, or save them for later in the week.
I could schedule them using the stuff on the right hand of the screen, but I really can't be bothered to wrestle with dates and times, so it's up to you!
Anyway, I have discovered an interactive book that does not use batteries! I was intrigued by the idea, so much so, that I splurged out and ordered it.
It is called "Press Here", and it is by Herve Tullet. Here is the front cover.I SO wish I had written this book. It would be brilliant to share with young children, say pre-schoolers. I wonder if I could use it in class music lessons?
I just love the whole concept.
It is truly, truly, silly, made me laugh out loud, and it is very clever.
So simple. So amusing.
I should give it to someone, but I can't bear to part with it.
PS: I have no idea who Herve Tullet is. But he deserves to earn a fortune. I also bought his colouring book for pre-schoolers "The Scribble Book". Excellent.
Sunday 13th January - Update on my mother
So, skip this post if you want, as it is all about my mother.
Woods. Trees. We're still not out of them yet, by a long way.
The first fortnight of the month has been a real up-and-downer (I refuse to use "roller-coaster" because I am fed-up with everything in the news or on television or wherever being a "roller-coaster" - just as well that you can't HEAR my tone of voice as I type!)
We had a "goal-setting meeting" at the end of the year, attended by my mother, family members, and staff. It was all a bit daunting, and to my mind the goals appeared to be almost unattainable. The review meeting was set for just before the end of January, and my heart sank as we left the meeting at how far we were from any of the goals.
Visiting is incredibly hard work. You clock-watch all morning as you rush round getting things done. Once you are there, you clock watch to see how long you can stay, or how long you have left on your parking ticket. If you plan to go again in the evening, you have less than two hours before it is time to set off again. Tick tock, chop chop, keep track, remember, don't forget, make a list!
What do you need to take? (clean clothes, toiletries etc). What should you bring as a talking point, or present? (a sandwich, newspaper, photograph). What was it she was asking for at the last visit? (make-up, electric hair-curler, nail file, new box of tissues)
Then you drive there, hunt for a parking place, and make your way to the ward, braced for what you will find. Will she be awake or asleep? In her chair, in bed, or surrounded by curtains? Will she be happy, or grumpy, or upset, or sleepy?
For how ever long you stay, your attention is on her, responding to her needs, answering her questions. Conversations flit from subject to subject, moving from the past to the present to the future. If she is in her chair, then maybe it will be a good idea to go off to the shop, or the day room, or the cafe. If she is in bed, then that's where you will stay.
Sometimes she gets wheeled off for physiotherapy; this happened in the first week when I was there, and I took videos and photographs which Mummy and I watched together afterwards. This proved to be a very useful thing to do. I was staggered to see that she could sit, unsupported, on the edge of the bed. The two physios got her standing up and started teaching her to control the movement of her hips and learn to balance while they held her firmly. They started teaching her how to transfer from sitting on the bed to sitting in the wheelchair. It was an exhausting and demanding process for all.
Last weekend, we were able to play patience together; I dealt out the cards, and Mummy moved them from stack to stack; building down, alternating red and black, putting the Aces out and building up on them by suit, moving Kings into empty stacks. I rejoiced to see that she could do this; hidden in the game are all kinds of important cognitive processes.
I gave her a packet of blank note cards, and also a notebook for Christmas. She has started to want to send cards to a few friends and family. Her writing is wavering, but legible, and the sentences mostly complete. I have found that writing things down in the notebook, like who is visiting on the next day, helps her keep track of things. Sometimes she writes down things that she wants to remember and ask about.
A few days ago, she had a urinary infection which made her very unwell, and very muddled. This has taken its course now, but for several days she was clearly running a temperature and ill. In the course of conversation with the consultant, it was decided to reduce one of the muscle relaxant medicines, which has a side-effect of causing hallucinations. Ah! That might explain things! Since that meeting, once the infection had cleared, she has been far more aware and articulate, had a longer concentration span, been far less muddled and confused over time. Is it a coincidence, I wonder?
The review meeting comes up in another week. The situation now looks far more hopeful than I had ever dared to believe. Woods. Trees. We're still not out of them yet, but maybe I can begin to make out a pathway.
It's still very early days yet.
Woods. Trees. We're still not out of them yet, by a long way.
| File:Dense woodland above the Monmouthshire and Brecon canal - geograph.org.uk - from wikipedia |
The first fortnight of the month has been a real up-and-downer (I refuse to use "roller-coaster" because I am fed-up with everything in the news or on television or wherever being a "roller-coaster" - just as well that you can't HEAR my tone of voice as I type!)
We had a "goal-setting meeting" at the end of the year, attended by my mother, family members, and staff. It was all a bit daunting, and to my mind the goals appeared to be almost unattainable. The review meeting was set for just before the end of January, and my heart sank as we left the meeting at how far we were from any of the goals.
Visiting is incredibly hard work. You clock-watch all morning as you rush round getting things done. Once you are there, you clock watch to see how long you can stay, or how long you have left on your parking ticket. If you plan to go again in the evening, you have less than two hours before it is time to set off again. Tick tock, chop chop, keep track, remember, don't forget, make a list!
What do you need to take? (clean clothes, toiletries etc). What should you bring as a talking point, or present? (a sandwich, newspaper, photograph). What was it she was asking for at the last visit? (make-up, electric hair-curler, nail file, new box of tissues)
Then you drive there, hunt for a parking place, and make your way to the ward, braced for what you will find. Will she be awake or asleep? In her chair, in bed, or surrounded by curtains? Will she be happy, or grumpy, or upset, or sleepy?
For how ever long you stay, your attention is on her, responding to her needs, answering her questions. Conversations flit from subject to subject, moving from the past to the present to the future. If she is in her chair, then maybe it will be a good idea to go off to the shop, or the day room, or the cafe. If she is in bed, then that's where you will stay.
Sometimes she gets wheeled off for physiotherapy; this happened in the first week when I was there, and I took videos and photographs which Mummy and I watched together afterwards. This proved to be a very useful thing to do. I was staggered to see that she could sit, unsupported, on the edge of the bed. The two physios got her standing up and started teaching her to control the movement of her hips and learn to balance while they held her firmly. They started teaching her how to transfer from sitting on the bed to sitting in the wheelchair. It was an exhausting and demanding process for all.
Last weekend, we were able to play patience together; I dealt out the cards, and Mummy moved them from stack to stack; building down, alternating red and black, putting the Aces out and building up on them by suit, moving Kings into empty stacks. I rejoiced to see that she could do this; hidden in the game are all kinds of important cognitive processes.
I gave her a packet of blank note cards, and also a notebook for Christmas. She has started to want to send cards to a few friends and family. Her writing is wavering, but legible, and the sentences mostly complete. I have found that writing things down in the notebook, like who is visiting on the next day, helps her keep track of things. Sometimes she writes down things that she wants to remember and ask about.
A few days ago, she had a urinary infection which made her very unwell, and very muddled. This has taken its course now, but for several days she was clearly running a temperature and ill. In the course of conversation with the consultant, it was decided to reduce one of the muscle relaxant medicines, which has a side-effect of causing hallucinations. Ah! That might explain things! Since that meeting, once the infection had cleared, she has been far more aware and articulate, had a longer concentration span, been far less muddled and confused over time. Is it a coincidence, I wonder?
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| http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Morton_Arboretum_woodland.jpg |
It's still very early days yet.
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| http://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/en/support-us/membership/Pages/join-us.aspx |
Sunday 13th January - Being Grateful for large and small mercies
My word, first post of the year and it's already the 13th. I can report that the New Year's Resolution regarding chocolate is going very well indeed, and I am accumulating a supply of "stuff" for the January charity bag.
There has been so much packed into the first fortnight of the year that I can hardly remember what has happened. What with one thing and another, there has been no time for reflection, and without time and space to revisit, remember, reassess the events of the day, important experiences are ruthlessly discarded just like unwanted gifts.
Even the "bad" things can enrich one's life... for instance...
The cooker STILL isn't fixed, in spite of two engineers and one electrician.
The bathroom light bulb went, last Monday morning. On trying to replace the bulb, we discovered that the whole fitting had given up - well, after more than 20 years, that seems reasonable. However, at this time of year, we get up, and go to bed, while it is still dark!
So, what can be so good about this? I admit to stomping about and saying snappy anglo-Saxon words which are short on vowels and long on consonants. BUT, Pollyanna-ish, there is a bright side.
Bathing by candlelight, brushing your teeth by the light of a camping lantern, maybe has a certain amount of romantic charm. And, thanks to yet another visit by the electrician, we have a super new bathroom light fitting with THREE BULBS; note the THREE BULBS; in future, when a bulb goes, we will no longer be instantly plunged into darkness. That has to be better!
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| actually this isn't the one we chose, but I can't find a picture of it. And I'm too lazy to go upstairs and take a photograph. And anyway our bathroom isn't anything wonderful to share. Not until we decorate and maybe change the 30-year-old horrible, horrible bathroom suite. But it gives you an idea. Of the light. Not the bathroom. Obviously. |
I know that my determination to look on the bright side of things can be infuriating. It is my way of dealing with what gets thrown at me. Looking at my life, taking everything into account, I AM privileged, wealthy, cosseted, safe, secure. To be sure, I have health issues; but last week I learnt that the latest addition to my list of pills and potions costs the NHS the best part of £10 per day - £3,500 per year! So I don't think that I will be grumbling about prescription charges!
My cooker isn't working - but I can afford to buy and cook food. I can go to the chippy when I'm just not in the mood to construct a meal using the slow cooker and microwave. At our church, there is a box for collecting groceries for "Ark", a local charity helping people in our town who have difficulty affording food. Memo to self: take a substantial contribution next time.
The bathroom light doesn't work. Hang on a minute before moaning - I have hot and cold running water, and reliable sanitation! That puts me in a wealthy minority when you look at the rest of the world. I think a donation to a suitable charity is in order, as a thank-you for the new bathroom light.
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| Primitive toilet in Indonesia http://factsanddetails.com/world.php?itemid=2168&catid=57&subcatid=379 |