Monthly Archives: December 2023

End of Year – Traditions and Thoughts

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As is traditional at this point in the year, I had a look back and muttered a few platitudes on my 3,216 posts and nine years of blogging. I then decided to dump the whole lot and wrote my normal blog on the New Year Honours List. Though I am broadly in favour of an honours system, I’m not keen on what ours has become. It gives me an annual chance to moan about how popular sports attract more notice than unpopular ones and use the words “political lickspittle”. You may not have noticed that over the years, as I dump that too. I find it’s usually good to delete the serious stuff.

Having exhausted my list of thoughts for a blog post I then sat a little, thought about the pointlessness of life, listened to my chest rattling and, as a first in my blogging career, wrote the words “then I took a shot from my inhaler.” I think I’m gradually getting better with the inhaler, but it doesn’t make a lot of difference. However,I know from past experience that I hve to use it so I can tell the doctor it makes no difference. They like to know these things. If you fail to use something because you don’t think the signs are bad enough, you get told off for not using it.

The big inhaler (two shots before bed and two more on waking) does make a difference, I slept for hours last night and would have felt wonderful if it hadn’t been for the dreams about drowning. At about 5.30 I woke after dreaming several different dreams about drowning (fortunately only short ones) and found I was fighting for breath. Clearly I still need to cough while I’m asleep, even if I do find it annoying. I’ve always worried about drowning after falling in a stream whilst fishing when I was about five years old. I was never in any danger as I was with my father, my uncle and two of my cousins, but the memory of sinking under the surface stays with me now, as I write about it. However, it didn’t feature in last night’s dream. I’m fairly sure the dream was out of a film, though I can’t recall which one. I may go without the inhaler tonight, just to make sure I keep coughing to clear my airways. I can do without a repeat.

Dolphin – Sutton on Sea

“The Dolphin” is the name of the chip shop containing the tiles. I thought I’d point this out before someone told me they aren’t actually Dolphins.

The Daily Thought

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If you started a sports team, what would the colors and mascot be?

I needed something to get me going so I thought I’d try the daily thought as it’s a subject that was once very close to my heart.

I’ve been associated with several start-ups, particularly in the field of rugby league (which is the minority rugby code in the UK, and often tries to expand). There is often more thought given to stuff like this rather than funding and other basic building blocks and there was one local start-up that involved a name, loan of a venue, money raised for shirts, a couple of matches (hosted by Nottingham Outlaws) and . . . oblivion. I told him not to let the kids take their match shirts home. It’s a pain washing the kit but at least you get to keep it together.  After the two matches they never did get get the team, or the shirts, back together.

You have to be very careful with this sort of thing, as Coventry Bears found. Now, I like Coventry Bears. But having said that, I also have a few old scores to settle. Fortunately my parents brought me up better than that. After an internal struggle I am merely going to point out that a bear is a big fierce creature, well-suited to being the mascot of a rugby team. It is also, for those of you who have led a sheltered life, a name for a particular subsection of gay culture.

According to Wikipedia “a bear is a larger and often hairier man who projects an image of rugged masculinity”.

It probably tells you something about my basic attitudes that I found it funny that Coventry Rugby League club was sharing its name with a group of people that produced some interesting internet search results. (Sorry if it offends anyone, but I was born in the 1950s and find amusement in things which are today found to be insensitive).

Anyway, there you go. I don’t know what I’d do about colours and mascots, but I do know that I’d do a thorough internet search before I decided anything.

Outlaws Play the Ball

Nottingham Outlaws RLFC – founded 1999. The name is or has also used by a BMX Club, a Cricket Club, a camera club, an ice hockey team a speedway team and is now in use for county badminton too. I’m not entirely sure who used it first, though I do note that two of the later users of the name seem to have cunningly omitted details of their earlier names to imply that they used it before we did.

Views expressed in this blog, are my own and do not represent the views of other individuals or organisations that may be mentioned or depicted. Just thought I’d better mention that.

 

A Brief, Dim Flicker of Enthusiasm

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Well, I said I wouldn’t talk about my health anymore and, after three days of being virtually comatose, I find I have written no posts at all. I should be more careful what I say.

Last week I was given antibiotics and steroids and sent away to recover. It got a little better. Today I went back, was given more steroids and two sorts of inhaler. I’m possibly a little better again. The truth is that I have been flattened by whatever I have. I’not written anything or read anything for about 10 days – apart from a few jottings from time to time and the blog posts. The blogging habit it so hard to break that it is almost automatic. And even then, as you can see, I did eventually break. I am just about to begin reading one of my Christmas presents, so a recovery is clearly coming.

One of the things that has worried me over the last few weeks was the prospect of knowing that I am a poet but being unable to write anything, as my faculties decline.

I’ve even found it difficult to watch entire TV programmes and have made much use of catch-up services to fill in the gaps. Sometimes that isn’t enough to stay awake through an entire programme so I cut my losses. If a TV programme is not interesting enough for me to stay awake after two attempts, I consign it to the metaphorical cutting room floor in my head.

Sadly, that’s it, a complete description of my Christmas. Mental shutdown and visits to the doctor. When I do one of those blogs like “My Ten Best Christmases” don’t expect to find 2023 in there.

However, as I often feel compelled to say in summing up, I still have a roof over my head, and am dry and (reasonably) warm. I have also been able to see a doctor (twice) when I needed one and have been given plenty of drugs at no additional cost. There are, I am sure, people who would be happy to swap with me.

Over the Hills and Far Away

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I’ve just been reading GP’s blog and saw this one. I’ve read one of his previous posts on the subject some years ago, and I always find it very uplifting. In a world where  the spirit of Christmas, and in fact any sort of good news, seems to be in short supply this is an important post and one that world leaders should read.

I like a lot of other blogs too, but I just don’t have the energy to read them at the moment. I’m getting old – three major infections in three months – it really is time to retire and relax. And that, until I am well, is going to be my final word on health. Even I am getting fed up of discussing it, so it must be worse to read about it second hand.

I watched several episodes of Sharpe today. There were more on, but two is enough, even for me. Julia did other things, but I knew she really wanted to watch something else. We ended up with Robin Hood Prince of Thieves. Saw the Sycamore Gap tree, wondered how such a bad film ever got made, pondered how several worse ones have been made subsequently . . .

There’s something universal about the story of Robin Hood and Sharpe that fits in well with human hopes, and thus with Christmas. It’s also a bitter-sweet experience as one of my friends, who I used to share a shop with, was the armourer on  couple of series and makes several appearances as a miscellaneous rifleman. Sadly, he is no longer with us, so it’s an additional lesson in the nature of mortality.

And that’s all for today. I am now going to consume a small meal of snacks – our Christmas tradition, but slightly watered down by my lack of appetite. I will then watch TV, complain about my health (Julia has not been granted a respite – just you)  and eat a large selection of pills. I’d prefer chocolate, but it seems pills are better for you.

Bah! 🙂

Five Days off Work Coming Up

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It seemed like this morning would never end. But finally, it did. I have five days before I return to work and I hope that will be enough for a full recovery.  I still have the congestion, the coughing and the pulled muscle, but it’s continuing to make (very small) improvements. Julia has been investigating and thinks I may have one of a number of stomach bugs currently doing the rounds – hence some of the symptoms that don’t seem to go with the bad chest. I have just been treating myself as if I have a stomach bug and can report that the “muscle pain” in the lower abdomen seems to have gone. The other muscle pain, on the other hand, persists. I hate having two things at the same time.

To be fair, I can be a difficult patient.

Julia has decide that she must keep me hydrated and feed me small, light regular meals. It tells you how bad I am that I’m still not keen on eating. Normally, driven by boredom and hunger, I eat my lunch by mid-day, sometimes 11.00. Today we toasted the cheese sandwich that has survived uneaten since I took it to work on Thursday.

Having just been on the internet checking out health stuff I am now relieved at how healthy I am compared to some people, and fearful at how much worse I may become. The internet is definitely a mixed blessing. There is definitely a point where you have to shout “Too much information!” as you recoil in horror from some of the things people write on discussion sites. It was a moment of weakness, I know better than to wander into those sites.

Poppies and corn wreath

Nacreous Clouds and a Bit More Moaning

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Again, I am demoted to mere onlooker as Julia grabs the honours with her phone. She feels she could have done better, but as she was on the way home, in a crowded street and only had her phone, it’s hard to see how.

At first, when she saw people looking up, she thought the pigeons were doing something amusing on the side of a building.

I am a little better today, though as the afternoon wore on I still found difficulty concentrating. Getting home, I threw myself into a chair and sat, staring out of the window. That’s just how knackered I am after a day of being worn down by pain. I had thought I knew a bit about pain after a number of accidents, broken bones, embarrassing medical procedures and school concerts, but it seems there are new levels of pain awaiting me. I didn’t need to learn this the year before I retire.

One of our customers came in to sell us his collection. He is leaving coins and re-entering the world of Pigeon Racing, which was his hobby as a boy. They use geo-location now, instead of pigeon clocks, and it is all much slicker than it used to be. And birds are now more expensive. Good animals always have been expensive, as the link shows, but the breeding can be very profitable.

That’s enough for me now. I have shopped for Christmas, including the food and presents for Julia, who eventually decided what she wanted. Most of her stuff will be here before Christmas, which is a miracle. Tapping a few keys doesn’t seem a lot of effort but it’s about all I can manage at the moment. At midnight I will have an antibiotic and go to bed. I actually slept quite well last night, which helped with the recovery.

Doctor and Nacreous Clouds

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I spent a very unpleasant night with repeating, pointless dreams, and awoke after broken sleep to find i was a little better than yesterday, but not much.

As I rose and drove Julia to work I realised I was still in a  lot of pain, and that she nagged me constantly.  She won’t go to the doctor when she is ill, but it seems that I have to.

I rang from work, was eighth in the queue, but being on my own, was able to leave it on speaker as I packed the only two orders of the day. I waited well over 20 minutes, only to be told there was nobody I could talk to. However, the receptionist muttered something about the on-call doctor and, after a  description of my symptoms, phlegm, coughing fits, torn muscles and a sound like broken bagpipes when I lie down and breathe at night, it was agreed that the doctor would see me at 11.40.

I now have antibiotics, steroids and confirmation that all my imaginary maladies (obstructed bowel, appendicitis,  hernia) are just a few (painful) pulled muscles. Things are slightly better, and I am hopeful that Christmas will be OK.

Julia saw nacreous clouds on her way home from work. They are unusual in UK. She took photos, but when she sent them to me she forgot I’m not very technical and she needs to email them, not send them by SMS. I didn’t see them myself, as they had already passed by the time I left the shop.

The afternoon in the shop passed in a blur, as I was still in a lot of pain. I don’t want to take more time off as I’ve already been off a couple of times in the last few months – it’s my lack of immune system, I’m afraid. In the end, the main problem is not the cough, but the pulled muscles.

Ah well . . .

More sunsets . . .

Slow Recovery

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I am experiencing a slow recovery. The cough is a lot better and the muscle pain is reducing. It’s a long way from being gone, but it’s a lot better than it was.

I stayed in bed until 3pm today and that, as it often does, made things better.

Unfortunately, it’s work again tomorrow so I can’t repeat that.

The pain increased in the afternoon, a sharp stabbing pain between the shoulders as I was stabbed in the back at work (though I didn’t realise it at the time). Apparently my co-worker  can’t come to terms with the new rota (even though it has been done for his convenience. He now wants to swap it and have all Saturdays off while get the Mondays. I don’t want the Mondays. Julia isn’t off on Mondays. Two Saturdays a month off with my wife were a bonus of the switch round. But now they have been snatched away. It’s hard to say no when the excuse is that he has to look after a sick relative.

At the moment I have other things to worry about and when all that is fixed, I have a retirement date of November to work towards so it won’t be worth worrying about.

Apart from that – nothing.

Well, mainly nothing. I seem to have written a blog and some poetry notes despite everything so it’s obviously not been an entire waste of a day.

That’s it. Time for bed. That should make 250. No, it  was 246. Now it’s 250.

RNLI Window. Cromer.

A Thousand Words of Moaning

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Farmer Ted and the Farmer Cut-out

This is now the Tuesday post, the one I meant to write yesterday. See the previous post for more comments on the slippage of time. 

I spent last night coughing quite badly and, on waking, found that  the pulled muscle in my abdomen was much worse. I would have rung in sick, but I’ve had a lot of time off recently and, added to some problems at work yesterday, didn’t want it to look like I was malingering. (all will be revealed as I continue writing).

Consequently, I felt very uncomfortable at work all day, coughed a lot and felt washed out by the time I went home.  I have taken several doses of painkillers and seen very little difference. It’s tempting to move on to co-codamol, the strongest non-prescription painkiller we have, but I can do without the consequences I experienced last time.

Too good to miss

Mentioning last time reminds me that I seem to be ill on a fairly regular basis. This is clearly not a good thing and I must address this. I also note that I was threatening to take action against the surgery in writing. I am seriously considering it again – see later.

Currently, the coughing has lessened, the wheezing is less noticeable and the pain in the abdomen has abated a little. None of it is ideal, but it all seems to be past its peak. However, it did mean I spent the evening sleeping, coughing or bemoaning my fate.

So, back to yesterday.

Some home grown produce

The owner turned up at the shop with letters. He has been looking at his accounts and can’t afford to go on as we have been. I sympathise with him. Since Covid, we have not been paying our way and cost reduction is required.

From next month, we will be working fewer hours. This, of course, means less money. To be fair, we he has met us half way and is paying us more for the hours we do work. It’s a slightly byzantine story, which I won’t bore you with, but he loves making up complicated rotas. Me, I would just have cut the hours and I would have had a simple rota.

Some of it is based on the fact that my coworker likes to have two days off at the weekend. He already has Friday afternoons and alternate Saturdays off. You are forgiven if you are thinking that this is not ideal for shopworkers, but that’s just how it is. He has an elderly relative to look after (though he didn’t have when it all started, he just used to like long weekends) and this rota is all built round allowing him time to do that.

Robin

I am now going to be getting alternate weekends off now. Saturdays, I don’t mind, but I have no use for a Friday afternoon (which I now have permanently off) and There is no point having a Monday off if Julia is at work.

However, he is trying to do right by us and because of my pension/retirement arrangements, it isn’t really a problem for me. I would have preferred full wages, but I will, overall, not suffer.

What I would have liked would be more warning. I would have spent a little less at Christmas, though we don’t really push the boat out too much. I would also have liked him to discuss it first, as I have been thinking of cutting back my hours so I could prepare for the big move.

It’s less convenient for my co-worker, who isn’t planning to retire,  and I sympathise with him. However, we did exchange cross words this afternoon. I could have been more considerate, but I’m actually fed up with accommodating the needs of others who never think about me.

Greater Spotted Woodpecker 

He has an elderly relative who needs help going to hospital appointments and sometimes takes a day off to do this. Unfortunately, the days are often Wednesdays. As you know, they are my days off, and I arrange my medical appointments on Wednesday so that I don’t have to take time off work. I’ve altered arrangements several times recently, but it is inconvenient and I don’t really like cancelling/rearranging appointments.

I said today, that I want the rota written down in the diary for the year, as there have been a number of problems with lax record keeping this year. At that point he told me he needed me to come in on a Wednesday next month. I pointed out that many of my Wednesdays were already booked, that I was fed-up with having to rearrange them and that there were other days of the week for his appointments. I could have been more tactful,

That goat is definitely up to something . . .

Then, the surgery. I rang this morning and asked how they felt about my cough. They feel it would be better kept at home so I have rearranged the blood test appointment for next week. I don’t, in case I am infectious, want to spread it about.

Just over a week ago, I sent a  prescription request in, because it’s Christmas soon and everything closes. It’s about time to renew everything, and in one case, I have now run out. I checked last night and there was only one thing on the system, so I emailed. When I rang I also checked up on this. They have now ordered the urgent prescription but have no record of the others. They can’t do anything more, so I have had to order them again. I took a screenshot this time. They forced me to move to on-line prescriptions during COVID. Since then I have had numerous problems. Sorry, that’s almost a thousand words of moaning. The pictures will, I hope, be a random assortment of cheerfulness.

California Poppies

1884 Penny Britannia

Cough, cough, cough . . .

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This is Monday’s post, which I didn’t complete until Tuesday. There should be two Tuesday posts. Or at least, that was the plan. I have just spent the evening wheezing and feeling sorry for myself, so I am now posting the Monday post on Wednesday morning. I may well continue to write the real Tuesday post on Wednesday too. Catching up can be very complicated.

I have a cough. It became a little worse on Saturday night, stabilised for Sunday, then worsened again today. It’s an intermittent dry cough. So far I’ve hovered on the point of having a sore throat but avoided it. I have, however, had a few periods when my head or my neck have felt quite sore, and today I pulled a muscle in the abdomen with the effort of coughing. This was annoying as I was trying to keep everything as gentle as possible, to avoid this.

I’m beginning to think that this might be the “Victorian” disease also known as the “100 day cough”. Though it is delighting the doomsayers that write tabloid headlines it’s just Whooping Cough, as it used to be known in my childhood. As I’m not under six months, or pregnant (despite appearances) I’m unlikely to be in danger, even if I am infected.

But it is most likely that I simply have a cough. I’m prone to coughs in winter. I’m also prone, as we all are if we aren’t careful, to fall victim to cyberchondria or other faulty self-diagnosis. The one I find most interesting is Medical Students’ Disease or Second Year Syndrome. This is where medical students, despite being warned abut the condition, start to believe they have the disease they are studying in class.

I have a tendency not to go to the doctor for a cough if I can help it. They tend to find other faults, or investigate me for things i don’t have. I’m not fond of either. As a result, it’s been about five years since I’ve been to the doctor for a cough. It eventually clears on its own, and life is a lot simpler without a doctor fussing round. They mean well but they are paid for finding stuff wrong with me, and they try their hardest to do their job.

Victoria Bun Penny

The other side of the coin.