Tag Archives: hibernation

Oh Dear, Posted and Forgot the Title

Squirrel on bird table (and fly on squirrel)

I just fell asleep during Forged in Fire and woke up to someone talking about a disaster. Fortunately I had been sleeping with the fire on and a hot water bottle tucked in the blankets I had on my lap so I was quite flexible. I woke, made sandwiches and sat to check the comments on my blog.

I really ought to go to bed, but can never resist the temptation to look at the blog after making sandwiches.

Tonight, after my last blog post, I dozed and ate fish fingers with peas and potato wedges. It’s not a life of great style and elegance, but it needs living and I am probably the best person for it.

Then I did the shopping order for next week and dozed again whilst watching TV.

Tomorrow is only half day so I don’t really need sandwiches, but Julia does. All I need to do is last until lunch and them I can come home and do things. Or, I can come home and doze in front of the fire.

Squirrel in a bin – Clitheroe Castle

There really is very little difference between my winter routine and hibernation. Once I retire I must think this through. In many ways it would be simpler just to give in and hibernate. However, I suppose that I will end up imitating the grey squirrel. They don’t hibernate, but they do sleep a lot. So I will sleep a lot and send in food orders via the internet that consist mainly of nuts. When relatives, concerned by getting no answer from me, eventually contact the emergency services they will find me nestled in a bed filled with dried leaves and with a spare room filled with packets of nuts.

That reminds me, I promised two cousins that I would do things this year. One is connected to family history and one to current family members. I have done neither, on a account of me being ill for the last three months. And being lazy and forgetful. I had better write to them to remind them I am alive and , belatedly, doing things. Strangely, they are both doctors, so |I will probably be bombarded with advice about health. I may leave the letters until next week. There’s only so much health advice a man needs and I am getting enough from my own doctors at the moment. It’s strange. You don’t see a doctor for years, then then, as so0on as you get something interesting, a group of them comes along at the same time . . .

Squirrel stealing bird food

This is either Part 2 of yesterday, or Part 1 of today. Not sure which.

Insurance, Injections and Irises

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Arkwright the Tortoise

Part Two of Today’s Posts. Part One is here.

I know car insurance has been going up because it’s been in the news a lot. I suspect it’s been in the news a lot because insurance companies have been drip-feeding us information to make us get used to the idea of a big price rise.

I’ve even had a note from my company to tell me the price rises are for reasons like the cost of complicated repairs, the cost of mechanic’s wages and various other factors that I translated to “blah blah, blah”. That’s even before you look at things like the greed and mendacity of insurance companies.

It’s gone up by about 40%. Just at the moment, I can’t be bothered to get a new quote so, despite a good driving record and lack of claims I will just brace myself and take what the insurance company dishes out. It’s still, actually less than I was paying when I started to shop around five years ago. At that time my insurance company (Churchill) was treating me like a prize specimen that they had fattened up for the slaughter. I went with Swinton, who used to cover my business and household insurance and they cut the price considerably. After the first year they presented me with a massive price hike so I left and went to another company. As I say, they are still charging less than Churchill.

Yellow Flag

And that is another insight for the mythical student doing his/her future PhD on the lives of unfamous 21st Century poets.

I’ve had a text from the surgery asking for feedback on my visit today. I’ve also had several texts this week telling me to book in for this and that test. What with my normal blood tests, my quarterly blood tests, three vaccinations, my regular rheumatology appointments, the X-Ray and the Urology referral, I really don’t have time to go to work. Unfortunately, despite regular stories in the press about high levels of benefit and the ease of benefit fraud, I don’t seem to be able to access all this cash and am actually better off working. This is, of course, supposed to be the case, as the benefit system is supposed to prevent starvation rather than provide an alternative to work. Next year, when I draw my pension, I will have plenty of time and will be able to devote myself to being a full time patient.

Meanwhile, I have a sore spot on the arm which had the flu vaccine and no reaction on the shingles arm. Sometimes I really am disappointed in the lack of drama that attends all this vaccination. I will be having a booster in two months, we will have to see what happens then.

Damsel Fly – Wilford

Photos are from May 2020 – our lockdown holiday, and include Arkwright the rambling tortoise. Julia saw him last summer but he is now presumably in a box, dreaming of next summer. It’s an interesting way of ensuring eternal sunlight – I may give it a try when I retire.

My Hibernation Plan

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Some days just don’t live up to their early promise. Today was one of them. I started reasonably early, and if staring at a blank screen had been on my list of activities, I would have nailed it. However, it didn’t, and I have to count it as a failure.

There is a pasta bake in the fridge ready for tomorrow, the washing up is done and the evening meal is about to go into the oven. It’s pie and roast vegetable. The gravy will be made by pouring boiling water onto gravy granules. It is, like me, simple.

Ironic that the Masterchef final is on to tonight. Watching it obviously does not improve my cookery skills.

I’m fairly sure that hibernating is not as easy as it looks, particularly as I get older. Waking up every few hours to use the bathroom seems to defeat the whole idea of hibernation. I want to sleep from November to 24th December and go back to sleep around 29th December until April. Based on my last stay in hospital, I may have an idea.

For those of you who don’t remember, that was the visit to hospital where the medical profession shoved a camera into a body orifice not designed to accommodate cameras, checked my bladder and sent me home with a plastic bag of urine attached to my leg for three months. Obviously not the same urine, I had to drain that, including, once, into my shoe after knocking the valve that controlled such things.

However, amusing as I find it in hindsight, it wasn’t fun at the time. The only good bit was that I spent three months sleeping through the night. At bedtime you detach the “day bag” and attach the extension pipe and “night bag”. You throw the bag on the floor, arrange the plastic tubing and go to sleep. Eight hours later you wake up, detach the night bag, dispose of the contents and attach the day bag.

I often dream of those carefree nights of sleep. The only problem is that when you are attached to a catheter you can’t help thinking about your own mortality. And then there’s the first night of non-catheterisation. After 12 weeks of urinating automatically, wherever you are and whatever you are doing (a bit like a mouse) it’s hard to fall asleep without worrying about whether you will wake up at the necessary times, or whether . . .

Perhaps I will stop there.

The top picture is to remind me it will be spring soon.

My Plan for Old Age

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I see I managed to publish yesterday’s post without a title – sorry about that.

I’m giving serious thought to hibernation. It must be possible and, with plenty of insulation it will save on heating. As an added benefit, I should be able to lose a lot of weight if I don’t eat until spring. It becomes even more attractive as an idea when you realise I will be able to miss the news for four months. I know we have a new Prime Minister, I know she’s going to be brilliant (she’s already said so several times) and I don’t need to know more.

Yesterday I passed a man trimming roadside trees and ran over a piece of tree in the road. Ninety nine times out of a hundred this would not be a problem, but this time I managed to snag a piece, which rattled around under the car. At work, I wasn’t able to find it, feeling under the car with my walking stick, so had to put up with a dragging sound all the way home. Fortunately Julia was up to the task and extracted the offending cutting before we set off this morning. I’d be lost without her.

Have I ever told you about my plan for my social care? Basically it hinges around committing a crime and spending the last ten to fifteen years of my life in jail. They will provide bed and board, medical care, TV, a library and laundry facilities, and it won’t cost me a penny. To be honest, it can’t be any worse than life in an expensive care home.

The main problem is that I need to think of a crime which is serious enough to justify a long sentence, but which doesn’t require me to be kept in maximum security. It’s still in the initial planning stage, but I feel it has potential. I’m was thinking of piracy, but it’s more complicated than I thought, as it has to be outside UK territorial waters. This brings me back to that world cruise I mentioned a few days ago.

The photo is a view of part of my desk. The full thing is just too cluttered . . .

A Grumpy Newt

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Julia came home with a picture of a newt today – she’s been looking for one all year. This one turned up as they were clearing a heap of rubbish. The heap had been there since before she took over at the garden, in case you are wondering. It was, it seems, a more attractive berth than the various newt habitats that they have built around the garden.

The newt was not, she says, particularly glad to see them.

I can understand that. You’re all wrapped up and snug in preparation for a long winter snooze then somebody comes and rips your roof off. In similar circumstances I’d be pretty hacked off too.

They tucked it in and put all the stuff back on the heap. They can finish that particular job in Spring.

The picture is a bit blurred, but it’s taken a long time to get it so I’m going to use it anyway.

The Last Butterfly of Summer?

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Life after the Care Farm