grimaces gripes and plaudits

The new hip is feeling stronger. I’m down to one crutch  (other side) I can put more and more weight on the joint and feel confident it will support it. I still have some tenderness in the lower leg and ankle  and put this down to fluid. The swellings though have almost completely subsided. The right leg is not quite  completely straight when I bring my feet together – suggesting a slight discrepancy in leg length but this can correct itself over time. Attendant back and inne rleg pain has subsuded to tolerable levels and I’m down to just 2/4 co-codamols per day (usually night). I hope to dispense with these in the next six weeks.

The wound is causing some discomfort (mild) and I’ll be glad when the last couple of inches has healed enough to get the dressing away completely. The top half of the scar is undressed and looks fine. although some of the staple holes are tender – they even feel as if bits of metal are still in there – unlikely.

I can sleep on the operated side but it’s not very comfortable – however it makes a welcome change from lying on my back all the time. I can’t lie on the good side yet for fear of dislocation.Sleep is fitful and I wake every hour or two.  Last night a nearby burglar alarm went off (false alarm) at one am. which didn’t help – good turnout of neighbours though.

Urine is not flowing so freely now though – settling down  a bit it seems- to more normal overnight levels.

I try to remain upbeat – I talk about the upsides and the downs – the latter are becoming fewer as the lght at the end of the tunnel gets a bit bigger (someone said it could be a train !).

When friends call it’s a real tonic – as was having my Grandaughter to stay yesterday. I showed her how to find towns and villages via the index in a Road Atlas and she enjoyed it. More people should do this kind of thing – small practical tasks for kids. I stuck to simple spellings – like Wem , Duns and Ely. She seemed keen to concentrate on Wales though which is currently uppermost in her affections – Scotland and France have been temporarily relegated (probably ’til the next trip to either – allowable when yer six!) but easily to read  place names are  thin on the ground west of Offa’s Dike !

I’m awaiting the District Nurse to check the wound. The sun is shining and I’ve been for a short walk already this morning – keen to ‘go again’ when she’s been. It’s Thursday and the weeks not far from done. Wallet’s course has progressed well and it’s the last day tomorrow. Being alone all day hasn’t really phased me afer all I’mused to it but I’ll be glad when she’s finished…so will she…she’s been walking  five miles a day back and to. Hopefully in another month or so we’ll be covering similar distances together along canals and the by-ways of the region.

Target time to  think about a possible return to work is October’s end, but I have to first satisfy myself – and possibly my employer that I can still do the job and perform routine tasks, as well as contort meself as is necessary from time to time in the rufty-tufty world of truckin’.

Big Son Paul is coming up at weekend and I’m looking forward to  a trip out locally and to seeing him. This time he’s staying over so perhaps  a good chinwag and a few glasses of Guinness or something similar. He’ll be away early on Sunday mornijng though to pick up his lorry in the afternoon and head for Scotland from Leicestershire. It’s all go for some folk – and I still remember when it was for me…just about!

…forty years ? !

I was working as a trainee cinema projectionist at the time in Altrincham ( the auld fleapit’s now an office block)….and remember calling into the  local record shop to get my copy. I was a Beatles fanatic by that time having followed the mop-tops since the early days and subscribing to ‘Beatles Monthly’ . I’d been through the usual phases of trying to learn the guitar – miserable failure – and even formed a group of my own (Spidermen – we mimed inadequately ) in the back garden of my Nana’s as local girls looked on…an audience press ganged yet curious…bemused yet offering supportive smiles if not screams.

As the teen years progressed it became time to put away childish notions of pop-stardom and get  a job. Earth…bump….I couldn’t even make it as a pro.footballer   (a relatively modest and noble ambition back then, not driven by filthy lucre).Two ‘O’ levels in hand I xset out in the world.  The School I was desperate to leave soon beckoned me back on a nightly basis as I parked up my Honda Ninety by the gates and gazed wistfully at the seat of learning I’d let down…and the football pitches which had let me down….gently.

The last time this important job was taken care of I scarcely felt a thing so I was relaxed when the District Nurse knocked at the door today.  Unusually, she had a companion.  A long haired lad she introduced as William – I assumed he was here to observe.

Not a bit of it…as I got on the bed in the ‘livvy’ and turned as best as I could to one side the Nurse said ‘William will be taking them out’
 (not mine but similar)

“Oh, Okay” was my response as she assured me he’d ‘done it before’

After William removed the dressing the Nurse surveyed the incision and declared it 90% well healed.
He proceeded to pull out the first stpale, indicating that he would approach on an alternate basis, making sure the flesh held together and did not fall apart.

Ouch! thought I as William nipped out the first of ‘em…the second one was even more reluctant and it seemed the metal was tearing at my skin. At the third stroke, I emitted a rather loud ‘Oh!Bloody ‘ell mate’ as I experienced the worst pain I’ve had in a while.  At this point Wallet intervened with surprising stridence – instructing the Nurse to ‘finish the job’. I was pleasantly surprised and in truth was considering such action myself. Good old Wallet .

Reluctantlyy, the Nurse stepped in and removed most of the remaining clips with aplomb, and I can only assume a sharper pair opf metal cutters for I felt scarcely  anything at all . She apologised as she went but I assured her there was no pain – not even discomfort.

I fixed my eyes upon William and asked if he wanted to do the final few but he declined. I wasn’t sorry.
About five staples are still in and one end of the wound is dressed as it was ‘granulated’ whatever that means – probably now’t to do with sugar….unless the slightly above average levels in my blood have anything to do with it.

Nurse is back on Friday to remove the remainder – I hope it’s William’s day off!

I can now do the leg-lift comfortably and am putting some weight on the newly operated leg. Confidence is high of a good recovery now, given time and patience.

I’m on my own this afto. as Wal’s gone to sign on again -  a weekly business now. This involves a five mile walk…we’d use Tebbit’s bike philosophy but she doesn’t ride. The sooner I can get back driving the better.

To some they are a blight on modern life. We have four of them – two big ‘uns and two slightly smaller.
On certain days of the week they gather haphazardly in the middle of the access road . Some are gathered in right away by their owners, others left forlorn for days as a testament to laziness or apathy. These are often the ones with house numbers dawbed on them in gloss paint. Some make a reasonable fist of the signwriting art but other owners merely scrawl the numbers onto the bin, and leave the excess paint to drip down the bin making a truly horrible sight – a betrayal some might think that behind that particular door number lurks a numpty with low standards. Steering my car into the final turn after work on ‘bin-day’ has often depressed me. So much so that I have been known to place each of the bins into their respective gateways rather than anyone else be presented with the motley, distressing  sight of functional, yet besmirched plastic.

Others proudly display adhesive numbers stuck on relatively straightly – for there can be few things worse surely than going to the time and trouble to buy adhesive numbers for ones bin and then making a complete balls of applying them. Skew – Wift always looks bad and reduces the overall status of the bins owner  to that of fairly accomplished paint dawber.A half-way house of aspiration where the final touch lets the aspirant down. Uneven, crooked and cocked-up reflecting innattention to detail and even general sloppiness.

I confess to  a mixture myself. Initially our three bins were marked with paint. A fairly consistent style of two large numerals (always the same: logically enough)  applied in a half-decent style with no drips. This contrasted markedly with some of our neighbours. The classier ‘painters’ used small characters about three inches in height – after all WHY do the numbers need to be huge? The larger the number was emblazoned  the worse the scrawl, or so it seemed. Some of them made me physically sick to look at – almost. Of course on non-collection days only the stragglers were to to be seen brazenly out in the open, whuilst others had been yanked perhaps ashamedly back into the gardens which they disfigured.
 blank bins  cause confusion for bin-men and residents alike

The arrival of our huge brown compost bin inspired me to buy some decals – both of which were prettily decorated with flowers and foliage. I managed to apply them straight and evenly. This inspired me to kit out all the other bins with adhesive numbers (plain white, or black) - alongside the reasonable paint job I’d applied years before.

So I guess I’m half and half but…..a few years ago in a fit of mild drunkenness I was sorting out the garage and found a variety of car aerosal paint sprays which needed to be thrown out. I emptied each of them over our  ‘general waste’ wheelie bin first. The resultant psychedelic melange got me a right earbashing from Wallet and landed me in the dog house. Still, we left it that way for a couple of years – a testament to mans foolishness and the folly of working class art when attempted by  a  talentless Phillistine high on Tetley’s. Heaven knows what the neighbours made of it, though no-one ever said ‘owt.

We finally got around to ordering a new one though – more befitting of non-biking, more sober residents now into their fifties and the old multi-coloured jobbie was dumped at the council tip when nobody was looking. It’s rumoured local house prices enjoyed a moderate blip after that escapade, for the brand new bin was adorned with white plastic numerals to three sides – a multi-dimensional job for the new millennium.

Whilst not taking pride in my bins -  an ugly but functional neccessity I do look upon them as somewhat reflecting me and my attitude to life. Do you? If so, and you have nasty numerals in Dulux I urge you to address the situation anon – it’s time we cleaned up uz rubbish bins and presented a uniform, civilised face to the world on collection day.

..bordered on the magical for me…
only set-back was Big Son Paul rang with bad news…his brakes need major investment but more importantly can’t be fixed in time for him to come up again this weekend. In a way I’m glad he can now have a rest…we’ll see him again in a couple of weeks time.

I did me best to be cheerful and managed it I think. Wallet’s card flooded in as the breathless postie wended his way up the path around mid-day. Since she has stopped work her birthday card count has tumbled from well over twenty five to far fewer. She said mine was ‘sweet’ but I’d left the price on it!

We enjoyed a birthday lunch of tuna butties and later in the afternoon Daughter and Grand-Daughter arrived to make the day truly special. A big box of horror movies and some pampering stuff – smelling largely of coconut were presented to the star of the day. She looked thrilled to bits and I basked in reflected happiness before grabbing the camera to capture the moments. I’d asked Daughter to buy some flowers on my behalf  and Wallet seemed chuffed with ‘em.

Candles on a pro-rata basis were fixed to the cake Daughter had baked and duly lit. As Wallet’s lung power extinguished the flame we all sang the traditional ‘Happy Birthday to Tood’ Smashing.

We then had a game of ‘shopping lists’ organised by Eve who did her best to engineer a victory for Grandma – I’ll have to watch her when she’s older….cos I take my Monopoly very  seriously (and have been known to cheat  myself when I was little like)

Back to  a two some as evening turned to neet . We shared a bottle of wine – my first fortification in a fortnight. We watched the opening salvo of ‘Ban of Brothers’ before immersing uz-selves in the backwoods of West Virgina to watch one of Sue’s prezzies ‘Wrong Turn’ a group of young mis-adventurists fall into inbred territory to suffer limb hacking and cannibalism. I fell asleep to dream of calmer things whilst Wallet watched on, supping Bailey’s from the bottle she’d been bought as a redundancy present months earlier…quite how it’s survived this long is a mystery!

My dear Wife been absolutely brilliant with me lately, and is worth her weight in gold…and then some.
I’ve told her I’ll start calling her ‘Heinz’ for obvious reasons this year but she has more than enough nicknames already!

Phone and e.mail have been hot with people enquiring as to me health…well  a few calls anyway.
This morning the District Nurse called to change my dressing – all is looking well underneath and the metal clips come out next tuesday – they take every other one out at first just to make sure the whole thing doesn’t jump out at ‘em. My legs look straight – ish. I’m still getting pains in the area of the lower back and sometimes down the inside of the right leg. The bruising has now spread to the lower calf and it’s bad around the ankle – not in the toes though like last time.

If I had a quid for eveyone who said ‘every operations different’ in the last week I could treat Wallet to  a pub lunch today!
I’m sat here a nice clean boy then – all laundered and freshly dressed in gingham shorts she bought me and a white tee shirt. I’ve had a walk around the block and spoken to the Council ‘litter-picker’ I told him I sometimes helped him out with my ‘grabber and bin-bag’ but he didn’t seem to mind. He said it’s ‘not too bad around here’ feint praise I know but praise all the same for this area. We’re lucky here – we live on the edge…in the best possible sense. The periphery of urbanity I call it (well I just have)

Had some very agreeable comments from forum members about my writing. I must admit I do enjoy my stints at the keyboard. It all started when I was ten years old y’know. Both older sisters clubbed together and bought me an ancient ‘Royal’ typewriter. It must have been  a nineteen thirties model (how I wish I’d kept it) I took to my new ‘toy’ with gusto and was soon producing a ‘local newspaper’ for the benefit of our own household and the three elderly relatives next door.  I also made football programmes for my own club  – I particularly enjoyed the editorials. I think I still have a few of those somewhere.

I did my English ‘O’ level a year earlier than the rest and passed it. I didn’t do the ‘A’ level for another thirty four years when I went through  a college course with surprisingly flying colours…modest prevents me from admitting to star-pupil statues (he lied)….only got a ‘B’ though because I read one of the questions all wrong! If I only I were as good at Math !

I had two slightly disconcerting episodes with my thigh muscle yesterday. After exercises there appeared  to be a ‘dent’ or depression in the muscle of about three quarters of an inch. This was not painful but looked most odd.  Of late I’m not overly blessed with musculature of the leg as the arthritis has wasted a fair bit of it away. So I really want to keep what I have…fortunately the depression disappeared within an hour. Wallet tells me I’m overdoing it…perhaps I should listen.

Big Son Paul is coming up  tomorrow – the third successive weekend…last time but one he took us off to City’s huge souvenir shop to buy himself a shirt. Aahh the optimism of a new season.  I don’t go gah-gah for the sky blue anymore but I’d like to see the hard core support have something to cheer about at last.
There is much worng with the modern game but my mind goes back to when I used to take Paul and his sister to Maine Road – going early to get  a good ‘spec’ ove rone of the tunnels in the Kippax Street Stand.Happy Days. Now he towers above me – I could probably sit on his shoulders!

.

For the first time since this journey into hip replacement surgery had begun, I was afraid.

I was crouched forward on an operating table wearing a surgical gown, minutes away from the second of two major operations. Yes, it’s routine surgery – of course it is, tens of thousands of these are carried out successfully every year but…but after the great success and partial liberation of the first one just three months ago, was

Was I pushing my luck? The only pushing I could feel as the fear kicked in was the deft fingertips of my Anaesthetist…long needle in his other hand I assumed as he probed for a suitable entry point at the very base of my spinal column.

His first choice was not a good one as I felt the most dreadfully overwhelming tingling sensation down the length of my left leg and foot. I protested firmly but calmly and he re-assured me as he resumed his finger prods.

I was now crouched so far forward it was beginning to be uncomfortable, my whole back was exposed to the crack of my backside. He openly appreciated my restraint as I talked him through the way I was feeling. A minute or so earlier the whole area had been brushed with an ice cold solution which had the aroma of something clinical about it.

As success was declared and a better needlepoint allegedly found a sickening warmth began to spread around my lower body, and then gradually up to my thighs. The banter which had been flowing gave way to impatient overtones from the Surgeon, now in the room and keen to get on with matters. An aerosol of very cold liquid was sprayed up the entire length of both of my legs and I had to tell them when I could feel it.

This was all very familiar from the last time and seemed to progress normally. Eventually I could feel the spray only on my abdomen in the midriff. Satisfied the treatment was working the team – six handed turned me over somewhat unceremoniously onto my newly ‘good side’.

More prodding and poking in the area of the hip but I could feel it.. This did not seem right and when I sensed the Surgeons thumb or finger tracing the outline of the incision onto my upper thigh I spoke out. Loudly !Immediately the decision to ‘put me to sleep’ was taken. There was no going back now, even though I knew a general anaesthetic carried implications for the swiftest of recoveries.

The Consultant re-assured me there was nothing to worry about and the next thing I knew was waking in the ward with a ‘V’ shaped abductor cushion between my widely separated legs, and something of a thirst.

So came and went the next few days in extreme discomfort bordering pain.A gradual process of slightly increased mobility. As the Physiotherapists began their limited work. On the day following the op. I was walking a few yards with a zimmer frame. This was easier than crutches because the bag containing my urine – delivered by catheter and a tube could be hooked onto the device. The right leg was extremely swollen and already showed signs of serious bruising.

I assumed the knock-out drops had enabled the Surgeon to be slightly quicker, perhaps slightly rougher with his expert handiwork.

I was wheeled off on a trolley for an x-ray which seemed to suggest the new ceramic lined prosthesis was sitting exactly where it should be. The first two nights in hospital were painful and long. It emerged I’d been given only half strength pain relief . Once the liquid morphine was administered  correctly on a three hourly basis I was feeling more on top of the pain which though never agonising, was considerable.

The attention in hospital (surgery aside) was only ever three star at best. Perhaps this is all we can expect. I was in ward of eight beds which emptied at a surprising rate, not to be refilled. My eventual departure left only one other patient contemplating a quiet night ahead.

Food was reasonable and care  varied from Nurse to Nurse – Auxiliary to Auxiliary and largely the older the staff the more caring they seemed.. Asking for things – always kept to minimum – was a hit and miss affair.

Fresh drinking water or a ‘pee bag’ emptied perhaps. All brought a variable response. Many had attitude and I needed to hold my tongue on a couple of occasions…this was no place to make enemies.

A black nurse called Jessie put the tube in my penis. She was skilled and it didn’t hurt. Yet there was so little empathetic banter, indeed all of the non-British staff seemed distant and totally aloof. They also seemed to seldom engage any higher gear than second whilst performing routine tasks Still, the tube went in with a minimum of discomfort. Unlike the needle which delivered the freezing lubricant into my todger.The real discomfort though  had come earlier when I had rolled around my bed for almost an hour  in some distress awaiting the instant relief this urinary evacuation offered.Last time I had the op. I was ’inside’ for eight days due to a sinking haemoglobin count . Due to a low blood count

I was anaemic. My heart responded with an erratic episode I was really hoping to be home sooner this time. The ward was right at the end of a huge corridor and all of us declining number of patients felt we were dealt with as something of an afterthought.

- thankfully this was not repeated and by Saturday – still as sore as hell and barely mobile

I was discharged. I’d weaned myself off the morphine the night before as I’d no idea I could continue this at home. Back on ‘ordinary’ painkillers the night was a slow and long one once more.

Despite the efforts of my Physio -

Gemma – a fresh faced girl who looked about fifteen I could not for the life of me lift the leg whilst lying on my back. I could manage to lift from the knee but the hip-lift seemed as though something had been dis-connected. She encouraged – I worried. All other movement was possible with a grimace and a grunt. Slow progress was being made as the exercises were ritually performed three times a day. I’d now gone tubeless and the crutches had replaced the ‘zimmer’ After just three days I was washing myself and making day time raids on the loo – bowels were open too which is always a bonus and cannot be taken for granted after upheaval such as this.

Son Paul motored miles to collect me on Saturday morning, and after five days it was so good to be home. I just about managed to wedge myself across the rear seat of his Rover 45.

Home for four nights now and things are still tough. I hurt. Disconcertingly and unlike the other side some of the pain is familiar (unlike the left side when the aching was all knew and seemed temporary)

I now expect several weeks of slow progress, more discomfort, hard work and not a little pain. I’m up for a challenge once more. Glad to be infection free (he reckoned) and will feel better once the line of metal clips holding this wound together is cut away by the District Nurse. I’m injecting myself daily now with anti-clotting agents.

Lots of tender loving care at home and food of the highest quality and nutritional value will see me through this. My day is made up of several sorties around the house trying to get comfy. I can manage fifteen minutes at the keyboard…the lap top – bedside with a very light &  wireless keyboard across my stomach has facilitated this ‘bulletin’ .

Outside the weather is grey and damp. Summer has gone. My view is enhanced though by Wallet’s new ‘Birdfeeder De-Luxe’ and we are regularly visited by a horde of Sparrows each vying for a place in the pecking order and or two gormless ringed Doves who twitch and gawp before flying off again.

For now my wings are clipped. I satisfy myself with a bit of telly and a new ‘Canal; Boat’ magazine – dream of towpaths and boats and the return of a summer to coincide with increasing mobility in about six weeks time.

I intend to remain dogged, taking setbacks with the tiny triumphs – and today I managed to lift my right leg off the bed from the hip  whilst emitting several of  the most almighty grunts.

for now we are Wallet and ‘grunting’ Grimace !!

Five weeks yesterday since the op.
The remaining crutch has now given way to  a stick. About ten per cent of the time I’m walking unsupported – albeit gingerly.

Yesterday I did fifteen minutes on the treadmill at 3.5 miles per hour which was fairly brisk. I felt it a little later in the evening…maybe I overdid things a bit. I ache a bit this morning but then again I’ve had little physical exertion for a long time now.

The bruising in the toes has cleared up completely. The instep and back of the calf and knee are only slightly tender – nothing really, I just wonder what causes it. ???

Daughter’s wedding next week – 28th. so should be able to attend no problem – maybe even stickless (not that I’m self-conscious) anyway it’s a very small, sensible wedding in the beautiful Derbyshire Peak District. I’m working on a speech – actually bought it from a seller on e.bay – his i.d. was ‘leavethemlaffin’ – but as with many things on e.bay there are no guarantees. If I’ve done that gag before blame senility.

Still spending most of the time sat in the house – online or working on old movies (editing) or watching ’24′  My wife now resembles Jack Bauer !! as the weather is poor here…no surprises. The wealth of this area was built up in the 19th century because it’s so damp ! It was great for the cotton in all the textile mills. We have a predominance of grey skies, although as I type the sun is shining  in the early morn.

Most other functions have normalised. I have a visit from ther Nurse to get blood tomorrow – her colleague failed miserably last Friday ! My veins are deep but no-one has ever drawn  a complete blank before ::)

Sleeping is still fractious. I still have a dull ache, particularly in the operated side. 2 x Co-Dydramols usually ‘see it off’ around 3am. so I can go back to kip….I’m usually up  at six though..unable to lie in longer in any comfort. This is much as it was pre-op and I’m hoping things will change gradually.

I’m applying Bio-Oil  to the now healed up wound and early signs are that it’s doing it some good.

I still have a big decision to make on the other hip. I’m not in  a hurry to submit myself to another ‘THR’ this side of the Autumn…although when I get more mobile I will be able to evaluate just how much the difference is between both joints. My newly replaced hip was always the more painful.

Should be driving on the first of June and I’m looking forward to firing up the auld Audi once more. She has been missed.

Son Paul is up again at the weekend and the family have been extremely supportive over this period, as have some friends. It’s certainly a time for finding out just who your friends really are.

Sorry this entry has been totally self-centred…my world views are currently  jaded and overly cyncical, as must be everyones, especially if they are political animals.

’tis my birthday very soon and  Gosh! I shall be fifty-eight.

Blimey. But never mind. The only thing that slightly concerns me is my ageing fizzog.  I’ve  never been a handsome bloke , maybe craggily attractive to those with eccentric tastes - but now I look like an old bloke. I’ve compounded this by shaving my head and beard – I now resemble that Dickensian convict in the East Anglian graveyard terrorising Pips – in Grape Expectations. Magwitch – that’s the man.

Yes, time marches on. It’s now nearly four weeks since my op. and the scar has healed well – praise be. I’m still using one crutch but the leg will support my body weight. I was worried about it being a titch longer than the right leg but the jury is still out on that. Not so much Twelve Angry Men as one lopsided one – perhaps.

I’ve been spending time watching episodes of ’24′ with four boxed sets to go at. My wife has taken  a shine to Jack Bauer, and since they are the two people I currently see the most of I’m detecting an uncanny resemblance. My missus could be his older sister on a dark neet.

Son and Daughter have really rallied round Mum and Dad over the last few weeks and we’re very grateful for the help – much of it from long distance as Paul lives well over a hundred miles away. His house has just gone on the market and they’re searching for a new home in Market Harborough – I hope they get what they want very soon.

Daughter had her ‘hen’ night last Friday. She looked radiant as she left the house here with her Mum. Indeed they both scrub up very well.  The wedding is due to take place at the end of May in Derbyshire. At 37 she’s older than the average bride but she’s above average in most departments. I wish her well in the future. I’ve written me speech but hope I’m steady enough to sink  a couple drinks before it’s time to do the oratory bit. Tried it out on Son on saturday and he laughed! (for the right  reasons)

Still a bit skint on an everyday basis although financially we have no worries I do have a paucity of money to fritter away on things these days  though. I did buy a ten pack carton of Guinness – to help with my anaemia of course.  I shall ration myself to two a night.

Also managed to grab a couple of work-books from Morrison’s for Grandaughter and I to get stuck into. There are gold stars and gold ticks to award good work and a  pre-printed ‘diploma’ if she does well enough to earn it.  All good fun. (I hope) ….on a lighter note I also picked up ‘The Spiderwick Chronicles’ on dvd and we’ll all watch it together soon.

I still have those bruised toes but the ankle no longer gives me pain on standing after lying down for a while. The calf is tender and I do feel I have a foreign object in the region of my hip but this is to be expected. The sliced muscle wall is still healing – I’m glad everything is closed up and infection free – one of my biggest pre-op fears.

It’s Monday tomorrow but I’m so relaxed and at ease in this  stay at home mode it doesn’t matter. I could get used to this not working malarkey.

Hooray! I just ‘won’  a stencil of the British mainland on e.bay! I’ve wanted one of these for ages – hope to interest said Grandaughter in the islands geography. I don’t think they get enough of this at school which seems centred on numeracy and reading – obviously important but there are other things that matter too.

Listening to what sounds like a meek surrender by Manchester City at Old Trafford – unless the second half picks up. We shall see. I remember some of  those blood and thunder Derby games of yesteryear and this one could do with  a passion infusion – maybe the likes of Mike Doyle and Lou Macari having a ding-dong….Colin Bell too of course !
Enough – si’thee

The last couple of days have brought more than our share of sunshine and I’ve been walking a little further in the immediate vicinity of the house. Very pleasant it is too with open views of verdant countryside a mere forty metre cock stride away. Everything looks better when the sun has his hat on. I spoke to a near neighbour for the first time…mind you he’d only moved here in 1994. As a veteran of 33 years I tend to keep myself to myself, and anyway I have always worked…a lot. Not much time for getting to know you walks around the neighbourhood – more’s the pity.

The wound is healing very nicely and is now undressed. As was I this morning when Tudor demanded my presence astride the bath once more. El Douche I’ve taken to calling her as she gets busy with showerhead. I hobbled on to the electronic scales prior to my soaking this time and I’ve lost a few pounds in weight – down to 11st. 8lb…I’ve not weighed that little since I was a fifteen miles a day postman in the glorious summer of ‘75. Come to think of it, hauling that heavy bag over one shoulder for long distances might have contributed to my present malaise.

Anyway hair washed and intimate parts once more scrubbed up and sorted Tudor got busy with the towel and talc. She seemed a woman obsessed this time as my scrotum temporarily disappeared under a blizzard of the white stuff. Blimey! I’ve not smelt this fragrant since 1951.

The ensuing walk – using just a single crutch for some of the way brought an aching somehow unique in it’s nature. I can now feel I have some kind of foreign object in my hip about the size of a babies fist. I expect this will subside over the coming days and weeks.

I’m still making good progress , eat like a horse and take all the tablets I’m supposed to, although I’ve cut back on the painkillers by over fifty per cent. My un-operated leg is in a good phase at the moment, even though I’m asking quite a lot of it. Long may it continue relatively trouble free.

Tonight we have Grand-daughter to stay and I’m looking forward to it. I shall also have a pint of Guiness or two – well, it is weekend…and a bank holiday weekend at that !

 I must find that beard trimmer !