Post 437: As the Air Cools Down We All Relax.
My Darling’s calf is properly ripped and the X-ray at the start of work today meant she was no use at work, so A&E will have to do without her services today.
Lying on the sofa when I got up to feed Mr V, she was still in her work clothes but going nowhere, especially with her leg in the air.
She went to bed after the kids had left for their trains, and that’s exactly what happened.
My daughter-in-law had a prized ticket to catch Harry Styles in Banbury—or London somewhere—with Shania Twain opening the show.
A big event, and she’d be travelling up alone and tomorrow would be picked up by our eldest from the hotel she’d managed to book for the night, which looked very modern and perfectly adequate.
So the day started quietly enough, and it wasn’t until after midday that My Darling had had enough of resting and took the stairlift downstairs for a change of scenery.
It’s strange how all the aids you never imagine you’ll use end up being used by both of us.
Although I’m much better and don’t currently need the help very much, the walking sticks are there for everyone, and boy are they useful.
My eldest had plans to remove all restraints from my writing today.
That meant he and I would get comfortable in the so-called office (spare room) and use the new paper, printer, folders and clear sleeves to build a hard-copy version of this blog from Post 1 to Post 199.
This was my excuse for creating a physical archive as a first step towards the book I keep promising to get on with.
So, with two spare large black cartridges and the small starter cartridge that came with the printer, we set off.
He sat at the Apple desktop while I sat beside him within reach of the paper pile, which under his control kept growing steadily as page after page of the blog took shape in black and white.
Everything went smoothly, and our quiet chatter throughout the morning and most of the afternoon revolved around writing in one form or another.
I really don’t know whether my blog-to-book ambitions have influenced my eldest’s own writing, but he has created the storybook he himself would like to read. He’s now reached the stage of expanding the chapters he has marked as key moments in the story.
When a break became necessary because the printer ink ran out, we headed downstairs for a rest away from the beating heart of the blog—the bindering of the blog.
His organisation was immense.
I could learn a thing or two about structuring my own book just by watching him.
He had an enormous A1 sheet of brown paper covered in the storyline, characters and major plot points, carefully folded away with his laptop. When he spread it out across the table I was amazed by the sheer size of it.
It covered almost the entire table before being folded back into a more manageable section so he could continue working.
A slow but productive day.
Meanwhile, our traveller had become stranded near Croydon where a bus and a bridge had conspired to halt the train’s progress.
That resulted in plenty of text-message laughter and the hopeful thought that the ticket might now be refunded thanks to the timetable fiasco.
Hurrah!
By the time Post 150 had been printed, we had exhausted the ink I’d bought and had to make a trip out for more.
The quest wasn’t entirely straightforward and we couldn’t get the larger cartridges I’d started with, but the replacement was sufficient to complete the project with paper and sleeves left over.
Printing accessories galore.
All that remained was to relax, although my eldest’s idea of relaxing involved gently nudging me to get on with the book.
He had effectively removed my latest excuse, because the blog now existed in hard copy.
I didn’t start writing.
But I did read a bit more about what a memoir should be…
A favourite friend of My Darling came over tonight and, as I was the only one not having a takeaway, I pushed a few buttons on the oven and transformed a rather ordinary margarita pizza with a scattering of black olives.
I heated and mashed some sardines and produced what only I could call a substantial dinner.
Tasty too.
I really do love the fish at the moment, and it meant we didn’t waste the takeaway birthday treats that were intended for everyone else.
I don’t know what it is about the “meat” I’m eating now.
A craving? My body telling me it’s all right to eat fish after my pal encouraged me to?
Whatever it is, it’s working.
I feel good. Happier. Healthier. Better.
It’s all good.
Yes, I have iron infusion number two on Wednesday and a blood test tomorrow, but I’m in a purple patch.
The steroids are down to two a day and the gabapentin is ramping up towards the four pills a day that will be my maximum dose.
That worries me a little, but what can I do?
I need the nerve protection, which in turn helps me through the day.
Anyway, the pain is gone and the medication is being adjusted accordingly.
Fabulous.
The rest of the evening I spent either watching the TV or watching the TV with Teddy the dog.
Happy days.
Tomorrow a pal is coming for the motorcycle he wants as a project, and his mate is coming too to help him get it out of the shed.
Happy days, part two.
I’ll be free of one of my projects, which has become more of a burden than a pleasure thanks to my current status as a professional lazybones.
Take care.
Good night.
