Post 346: Dreams litter the day of rest.
The bus trip out was scuppered by us both needing more rest.
Isn’t it funny how, it’s only after a good rest, you realise that you needed it — even though, on the balance of probability, you’ve rested enough anyway?
No phone calls today disturbed my TV binge, but after waking from a dozen morphine fuelled naps, I had to rewind Netflix a fair way back to catch up with the story that unfolded while my eyes were shut.
So the trip on the bus — the number 28, our favourite — had done its daily rituals without us bothering it. Tomorrow we will go, and no mistake.
Oh! Now I think about it, I lied. I did get a call.
From a mate — the one who got married recently with us, my Darling and I, as witnesses. She asked me if I knew of a place that would take (or buy) her late husband’s beautiful but ancient computer.
It’s even older than my Apple “IIci” I had in the loft of our first flat eons ago. His was a large floppy only, where mine had the large and small floppy. Oh, the technology back then — I thought it wonderful, but every month something new would supersede what came before.
I loved my Apple computer (a Mac llci), which helped me understand the new (at that time) computer interface; which was a strange new phenomenon.
But better than any games which I didn’t like at all, it gave my thousands of names I had collected by hand (a family tree) a place that could be easily found with the press of a button (key), instead of looking through hundreds of pages of handwritten foolscap paper to find the right or probable next generation of my family.
Family ties that break so often and are left to the dusty records offices even now.
This was before any family history program had been made, but it was obvious to me that a PC (personal computer) was the way forward, and the massive folder folios were a thing of the past — however intricate they were.
Anyway, back to the call.
I had immediately thought of a place she could start her search for a new owner of this historical Apple PC, but due to brain freeze, I couldn’t remember the name of it.
“It’s a museum on a hill, cut through the hillside of West Sussex to make chalk cliffs to shelter the exhibits.”
But could I think of the name of it? No, I couldn’t.
Brain fog had hidden the name I knew so well, normally.
I let the call end with a promise that as soon as I remembered, I would text her back.
I was bemused that I couldn’t remember the name of the museum I had been to several times. Damn it.
I got up Safari on my iPhone and searched for West Sussex museums, and in a split second there was a wiki list — just as I wanted — with… drum roll… Amberley Chalk Pits Museum right at the top. How could I forget?
With that, I eagerly texted her the details and got that frustration out of my head.
Let’s hope it’s the morphine that does it — it’s definitely not the breaking down of my “little grey cells” that are gradually escaping my grasp — I hope.
I’ve been down to Amberley in a vintage bus that was being displayed by the steam trust I volunteered at. Those were the days, such fun.
Every Saturday morning I’d get up and head off for a shortish drive to the Steam Trust’s fields of dreams. I was only on the narrow-gauge railway section which had plenty of locos — mainly small, but powerful, diesels.
With my hands dirty, I loved the camaraderie of the gang we were a part of. Men and women of all professions, all helping out to keep the “big train set” on the tracks.
I haven’t been for ages, and I only told one person up there why I was going to have to take a sabbatical while I was temporarily disposed to cancer treatment. It was another nail in my coffin, but I can pop up on show days if I’m up to it.
⸻
Yesterday I had only said how strong and pain-free I was when, ten minutes after the call from the hospice, I struggled to move. It’s always the way.
Well, today is the same. I was definitely going with my Darling on the bus to our county town with all its glory when, after feeding Mr Vicious, I felt tired and went straight back to bed. My Darling too was still feeling naff, and needed more rest too.
My legs and torso had little pains everywhere. I couldn’t put my finger on where the pains were coming from just then, but later, when I felt around a bit more, between naps, I found ribs in two places that were in pain more than the usual areas.
Bugger — that’s all I need.
I won’t tell my Darling today about the new pains I’m getting. Maybe tomorrow I will.
I suppose I’ll have to mention the new pains to my oncologist as well, next week. The pains are small and in the joints, or if I push certain ribs, it’s a worse pain.
Is some of it just age creeping over me? I bet some of it is.
Tomorrow we will definitely get on the bus and take a trip to town, with all my meds of course — just in case I need a boost at some stage.
We will have a brunch at the big lounge we normally go to, and if we stay long enough, a dinner out too.
The Korean noodle bar might be good fun — we still haven’t been there yet. But it’s at the top of a very steep hill not far from the castle ruins, so I’ll need all my puff to get there.
Anyway, it’s a day out and a time to chat.
Cross your fingers everything is ok for the trip out.
Good night.
