Friday 28th June

Yesterday vanished... morning, noon and night, well, evening were filled with several appointments, necessary admin, and a piano lesson and blogging got left out.

Suffice it to say it was a busy and fruitful day and left the way clear for a more restful day today.

I've cleared the broad bean plants and Swiss chard from the veg patch. All that's left is a tangle of walking onions and several tubs of potatoes.  I might not bother with anything else this year. The combination of the long cold wet spring, feeling unwell,not ill  but just not well, and then the pulmonary rehab programme has somehow left veg growing behind. Perhaps I'll just kabel the tubs as 'set-aside land' - all 6 square feet of it, or pretend I'm letting it lie fallow until next year.

It will save on the watering...

So, what's new? 

I'm immensely cheered by a small 'win' regarding playing the piano. I've hardly played at all this year because I was getting so out of breath. I did discuss it briefly with the rehab therapist but he said 'no, it comes into the category of sitting down, so don't use supplementary oxygen. You should just pace yourself.'

I have to say that I felt mutinous. I couldn't see how you can 'pace yourself ' while playing a Chopin nocture or Beethoven sonata. But I gave it a go. 

I found I could play for about 90 seconds - scales, or a fast piece, or a slow piece,  before becoming too dizzy to continue. Then I (im)patiently waited for 10 minutes before I could play for another 90 seconds. And wait. And play. And wait. QED as my maths teacher would say.

At the rehab session I asked again... miming playing a scale, while the oxineter was still on my finger with the readings plummeting before his eyes... 'Ah, yes, you had better use oxygen when you are playing. It is far more energetic than I had realized'. I smiled and said thank you...

I've been playing again for up to an hour at a time ever since... that's three pages of Beethoven sonata op 22 resurrected - this is Barenboim playing. I've a wee way to go yet!

and the first two pages of Scott Joplin's Maple Leaf Rag. 

I've finished reading 'Pigeon Post'. I'd remembered the fire but forgotten mist of the rest of the plot in the decades since I read it. I sent off for a second-hand copy

This a relatively recent copy 1986, compared to my others. The dustjacket was in a protective polythene cover, all torn and stuck with horrid brown decayed sellotape so I've thrown it away. Inside it is the nice dark green linen like all the originals so that's hold.