Post 498: Finding time is the hard bit.
The weekend brings the first carnival processions in the Deep South, but will we have lit torches or not?
Big Sis had arrived after I had hauled bags of essentials from the town, which included some flowers for both my Big Sis and my Darling. I also found enough time to collect my glasses from Boots with my new prescription.
I checked the glasses as best as I could at the opticians so I could be off home and get everything unpacked. I’m not a happy shopper, so I try not to hang around in shops.
When I got back, I had just got the irises into water — still unpacked and uncut — so the choice of which ones went where was not mine. My Darling and my Big Sis could fight over them later.
With the fresh fish stuffed into the fridge wherever it would fit, I had just enough time to fill the kettle before I saw the dark blue bonnet of her car coming forwards, then reversing towards our red-doored garage.
Big Sis is here! I shouted to myself as I flicked the kettle on and walked smartly leftwards to the front door.
A hot welcome
I greeted her with a sweaty body, which she duly matched after having a very hot morning at work herself.
For me, I had only hovered up the dirty boot stains from the front car footwells that I’d been meaning to do for ages. It does now look OK, but I noted that I would need a rest.
She was full of news and gifts and promptly sat down to her lunch while I fetched tea and coffee — decaf, thank you ver much — and I ate a few grapes and strawberries and other limp fruit, leaving the tiger bread rolls and mini hot-cross buns for later.
Perhaps I would have one mini bun, but not the bread, as my appetite is still not there yet.
It is day one of the steroids, though, so I can’t join the hungry hordes just yet.
Carnival, torches and fireworks
We, Big Sis and I, chatted about the likelihood of the evening carnival tomorrow being a bit of a damp squib, with the regulations making the celebrations a changed and rather lacklustre affair.
But we couldn’t find out whether the firework ban was still on or not.
More importantly, though, were the torches going to be the fiery, wooden, hand-held sticks of old or some new fangled battery alternative? Ha ha.
We want the ones that create that atmosphere of smoke and heat, filling the streets with an orangey light from hundreds of fancy-dressed societies and their special costumes.
That’s what we’re used to.
Only time would tell, we decided, as we moved on to matters of the heart.
Well… heart and pets, actually.
Poor old Onyx
We have a poorly cat in the family by the name of Onyx, and his dodgy tummy that has been grumbling for weeks now, but it rumbles on and off still.
And with the cost escalating to quite high amounts, the new and worryingly bothersome aches in his belly have meant that a quote for a camera up the place where no light did shine would, on its own, cost £3,000 quid. Very sick squid this time.
Now the big question on my lips was…
Whaaaaaat?
Three grand!
Oh my God.
And that could be the start of it, couldn’t it?
Well, I’m for putting the poor little blighter down if the insurance can’t help out substantially. I don’t mean that harshly, but the couple are saving to pay off a mortgage that is underperforming, and I know where my loyalty lies.
But, saying that, it’s early days, and if it stops with just those treatments, I suppose it’s OK.
But when you’re saving to get out of debt, though, it’s hard to spend the cash you’ve managed to save up.
More later about that story, I guess.
Let’s hope that is the end of the problem and that the cat is fit and back to normal health.
Good luck, Onyx.
Health-wise, not too bad
My weight is 11st 9lb, so well within the 11st 12lb to 11st 4lb range I feel I should be.
On the whole, this week has been OK health-wise. The breathlessness has been easier to deal with, and the only real issue has been the amount of Oramorph I’ve used to ease my back pains.
It seems to me that I’ve got used to my issues in the main, and apart from the shakes in my hands, which are a side effect of the morphine, I’m getting on with things.
Oh, that reminds me — the Hospice didn’t ring.
They were going to ask about the meeting with the oncologist to see if there needed to be an in
crease in the slow-release morphine, so that I can reduce the oral morphine I
have to take every day.
But they didn’t ring.
And the best part about that is that if there are more people worse off than me, then I’m a lucky boy.
I’ll wait another day.
Will we get our torches?
The autumn is here and the carnival is this weekend.
As mentioned before, I want to go and see the pyrotechnics and costumes. I shall ring my brother later and see if we will all meet up and wave at the procession passing by.
It’s what we normally do, so we’d better continue the tradition.
But it depends on my back and whether I can put up with standing for a while.
At least it’s dry again, so the crowds should be out for the procession.
But it remains to be seen how many torches will actually be lit according to the regulations.
I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.
Have a lovely weekend.
Sleep well.
Take care.
