Getting back to it

Well hello there, folks!  Even the most unobservant of you will have noticed that it's a very long time indeed since I last posted, but now it's time that I got back to it, back to you.

It's been a difficult five months or so since my last blog post with two bouts of pneumonia (I told you there was no such thing as a simple cold for a severe asthmatic!); time in hospital; the death of a very long-standing and dear friend; the death of my beloved cat, Zach, who had been my loving (although crazy and psychotic) companion since he was four or five weeks old almost seventeen years ago; the diagnosis of Impaired Glucose Tolerance (IGT), or pre-diabetes, with a major contributory factor being the long-term high-dose oral steroids I take for my lungs; and still working through some of the stresses of last year, both in my own time and with my psychologist.

Is it any wonder I've needed a bit of space from writing about it all on my blog?

However, despite all of that there have been some good times and some good things in the last few months too.  In recent weeks, one of the things that has helped to bring back my smile has been my new little kitten, Isobel Artemis.  This photo was taken when she was just three to four weeks old and I went to meet her for the first time.

Isobel came to live with me on the day that she turned eight weeks old, and this photo is from her first evening with me.

As you can see, she'd grown a bit, but she was still so small (especially in comparison to the size my lovely Zach boy had been) that I kept looking at her and thinking, 'You're so small, you can't be real!'  She was quite unsure of her new surroundings for a couple of days, although she seemed to feel safe enough, judging by how relaxed she was first thing in the morning of her first full day...

She's now completely settled in, a complete delight, and totally nuts :o)  Her mother was half Bengal, which of course makes Isobel a quarter Bengal.  She has some of the traits, particularly being talkative with a variety of little chirrups as well as the more conventional meows and purrs; and she has just a couple of the Bengal spots on her side; but I wasn't sure how many of the other traits she'd have.  One thing Bengal cats are known for is a liking of water, and yesterday Isobel had her first encounter with water.  It was the middle of the afternoon and she decided it was cuddle time, which is lovely and usually not a problem, except that I happened to be in the bath at the time!  Despite having her feet already immersed in the bath water, she walked along my legs into deeper water (my legs were at a slight angle due to the bath lift I use), patted it with her paw as if gently attacking it, walked back up my legs, looked at me quizzically, leapt out of the bath, ran around the flat in crazy mode, scurried back into the bathroom, leapt back into the bath, missed her footing on me and got absolutely drenched.  She ended up very spiky, utterly bemused, extremely soggy, and yet wanting more.  I don't really want to end up sharing all my baths with the cat from now on - that would be weird! - but it was very amusing, and I have to say that she's incredibly silky soft today.

I could probably post photos of Isobel ad infinitum, but I'll restrain myself (for now) and tell you some more of the better things that have been going on for me in recent times.

So, at the end of April my mum turned seventy, shortly followed by my step-dad at the beginning of this month, so between the two birthdays we had a family week away in celebration.  Mum, J (step-dad), my brother M, his wife, N, and their children, O and D, and my brother C, his wife, S, and their son, J, hired a 'cottage' in Shropshire.  The 'cottage' was in the grounds of a manor house with several other 'cottages' (mostly far too big to be called cottages), and amongst other things a huge building that contained a large games room and banqueting hall.  We'd arrived on the Friday, and on the Sunday we had a big party for Mum and J in the banqueting hall with various other factions of the family coming to join us for the day.  Most of the folk who came to the party were from J's side of the family, and it was great to have a chance to meet some of them for the first time, some for the first time since Mum and J got married over twenty years ago, and to chat to others who I have seen more recently but haven't had the opportunity for a good catch-up.

There are always some tensions when families get together for prolonged periods, but on the whole I don't think we did too badly, and I did have a good time.  There were times when I felt a bit 'spare part-ish' and lonely, because I was the only one who didn't have someone else, and a couple of days when I ended up spending much of the day on my own while others went off in their family groups, but I tried to make the most of it, and did have some good times.  I also had some very enjoyable times with my brothers and their families during trips out, and I really valued the time to get to know my youngest nephew, J, a bit better.  I don't get to see him very much, so even at age three, he didn't really know who I was, but by the end of the week he was inviting me to his next birthday party ... in February next year.  I do hope I get to see him (and his parents, of course!) rather more now and we can have the kind of aunty-nephew relationship I have with O and D.

What else has been good?  Well, I've been learning to crochet.  In my review of the year at the end of last year, and I think also at the end of the previous year, I said that I wanted to learn to crochet.  I sort of learnt a little bit in 2012, but not at all confidently, and I couldn't do it with any accuracy without having someone who knew what they were doing to guide me.  Earlier this year my friend R was off work for a few weeks.  Early on in her recovery from the surgery she had I went to visit her and happened to mention that I wanted to learn to crochet, and much to my delight she said that she did to and we set up a plan to learn together.  I'd bought a book (A Little Course in Crochet) a few weeks before in anticipation of teaching myself and we decided to use it as our tutor.  We met up frequently during R's recuperation, working methodically through the book, and practising on our own between times.  We still haven't reached the end of the book, and R is now back at work, but I feel like I can call myself a crocheter.  I can actually make things, things with straight edges where they're meant to be straight, and with corners where there are meant to be corners.  I've made all sorts of things, albeit mainly those in the book, but that's the beauty of the book, because it teaches you a skill and then gives you a project to make using the skill it's just taught.  R and I don't meet now like we did, but I'm still crocheting, I think she is too, and we certainly plan to get together for more creative crocheting times.  It's so relaxing, and actually it really helped me after Zach died.

So having heard what has been, I guess I should say a little about what is.  Right at the moment my priority is trying to keep breathing.  The weather has been lovely recently with lots of sunshine, but the air has been thick with humidity - around 60% to 75% according to the Met Office - and that's been causing me problems.  That and the high pollen count.  As much as I love going out in the sunshine - and I really need to get the vitamin D given my osteomalacia - I've had to spend a fair amount of this lovely weather indoors, breathing the clearer air produced by the ventilation system in my flat.  Even then I've had some very troublesome days and nights with my breathing, and have generally been quite exhausted.  I've put my steroids back up from 45mg to 60mg, and have been having extra nebs, but I'm also thankfully due to see my asthma consultant on Thursday.  I don't expect him to have any magic answers or even the glimpse of any new treatment, but at least he'll know where things are up to.

To be honest, it hasn't been too much of a hardship having to be inside at home.  Sure, I'd love to be outside enjoying the sun and the warmth, but I've also spent lots of time with Isobel and have been taking great delight in her.  We've played a lot, had lots of cuddles, and she's been learning the word no when she's looked up at the curtains with rather too much interest ;o)

I think that I'd better sign off for now as it's getting late, but I'll be back a whole lot sooner than I was last time.

Norfolk (part two)

It seems a long time ago now that W and I were in Norfolk, but I do owe you all another post about the things we got up to.  We crammed a lot in to our time away, whilst still managing to have a few days around the cottage and the local village.  However, we couldn't go that close to the regional capital without spending a day in Norwich, so we took the Park and Ride in to the city centre one day and went visiting the cathedrals.  There are two in Norwich (as there are in many cities) - the Catholic and the Anglican - and we went to the Catholic one first, passing through a lovely park on the way:

Bandstand in the park

Gargoyle on the outside of the Catholic Cathedral

The Nave of the Catholic Cathedral

The south aisle of the Catholic Cathedral

It looks old, doesn't it?  I have to say that I felt a little cheated to find out that it was only built in 1910.  It's still lovely, though, so I don't mind too much.

We had a very pleasant walk then to the Anglican Cathedral, which is simply called Norwich Cathedral.  One of the streets we went along had lots of plaques laid in to the pavement representing different professions.  Here's one of them:

And then we arrived at Norwich Cathedral:

The East end of the Cathedral

Seen from the cloisters

The cloisters

The font is unusually placed along the side of one of the aisles, but it was one that I particularly liked.  There's a sign next to it that explains that it used to be a vat in a chocolate factory, and was donated to the Cathedral by the factory.  I'm not sure if this is when the factory closed, or at some other time.  I love the idea of being baptised in a chocolate vat:

Chocolate pot font

Isn't it fabulous?

Sadly we weren't able to stay for evensong that was just about to start as we left, because we'd have missed the last bus back to the Park and Ride car park.  That was a bit disappointing, but we did have a pleasant walk/trundle back through the city to the bus station.

Where we were staying in Stratton St Michael was only about a half hour drive from a small zoo - Banham Zoo.  W and I both love animals and wildlife so it was a natural thing for us to visit the zoo, especially as we were so close.  There were mixed reviews of it in the cottage's visitors' book, but we really enjoyed it, despite it being the one day when we had torrential rain, although the rest of the country had it much worse.  In fact it was so bad in other parts of the country later in the week that the A1 got flooded and was closed.  We were keeping an eye on this as the A1 was, of course, our route back up North, and it was looking as though we wouldn't be able to get back home.  The week progressed, and although we had pretty good weather, the rain in other parts of England was awful, so much so that the diversion route off the A1 then became flooded.  Although we had a couple of days left before the planned end to our holiday, we had to make a decision - were we going to try getting home on the Saturday with no guarantee of making it, or were we going to see if a couple of extra days would give the road chaos a chance to settle.  In the end we settled for the latter, and after talking with the cottage proprietors (and W clearing it with work), we   arranged to stay until the Monday.  Although we might have managed to get back on the Saturday, I suspect that the goods vehicles that couldn't get through earlier in the week might well have clogged up the A1, and certainly when we were driving back on Monday there was still a lot of evidence of the floods.  By this time the water on the road had been cleared - pumped off by the fire brigade - but there were many, many fields along the way that were still like lakes.  As it was, it still took us eight hours to get back!

So anyway, with our extra time in Norfolk we decided to make the most of it, and on the Saturday when we should have been coming home, instead we went to another zoo - Africa Alive - just outside Lowestoft in Suffolk.  Africa Alive is much bigger than Banham Zoo, but it's owned by the same people.  I have to say that at both places I thought that some of the cages were a little small, but the animals were obviously well cared for, and none of them seemed distressed.  I will leave you this evening with a selection of photos from Banham Zoo and Africa Alive.  I have rather a lot of these photos so I'll try to limit those I put up, but it's going to be hard, and I predict a bit of an animal overload for you ;oP

Enjoy!

Ringtailed Lemurs - Mother and baby.

Baby Lemur sitting on my knee trying to work out how to control the wheelchair.

Meerkats relaxing in the sunshine.

Spiny mice.

Foxes, but I've forgotten what kind.

Cheetah.

Elephants ;oP

'Allo.  You looking for me?

Fighting cattle/bison.

'Zero', the alpha male lion at Africa Alive.

Fighting lions with Zero looking on.

Llama

Larakeet

Spider Monkey

W hand feeding a larakeet

Parakeet

A yawny leopard

Oh, 'ello.  Can I 'elp you?

Snow Leopard

Jackass Penguins

Short-clawed Otter

Snack time for the tiger

Longing for freedom?

Red Panda

Decision made

It's a while since I posted because I've been busy with writing things for my MA portfolio/dissertation, but it didn't take me long after my last post to make my final decision about whether or not to give up being a vegetarian.  As I said in that post, I had been thinking about it for a long time, although I hadn't told anyone.  I have made the decision to break my twenty year meat fast, and have surprised many with my decision.  I thought my mum wouldn't be quite so surprised because I'd talked a little about it with her while we were away together, but she really was.  She still is.  My brother, M, has been surprised but more supportive than I could have imagined.

There were many reasons I came to the decision I have, some of which I talked about in my previous post, some of which I touched on.  I'm not going to go through them again, but I do think I've come to the right decision for me at this time.  It still surprises me when I look in the mirror and I suddenly think, 'Hey, you're not vegetarian any more,' because it's been part of my identity for twenty years - all of my adult life.  The rest of the time it's felt like a new adventure.

I have no idea how to cook meat so I've been buying cook books from here, there, and everywhere.  Having said that, the fishmonger has been really helpful the couple of times I've been there, and the butcher at the farm shop was also helpful, if a little perplexed (even though I had explained it to him).

Once I'd made my decision to eat meat again I thought it would be a good idea to see if I could get an appointment with the dietician at the immunology department.  It took several days to get to speak to her on the phone, but she was very helpful and is very happy to see me face-to-face, although it means getting a re-referral from my GP as it's over a year since I was seen in the immunology department.  The referral is now going through, but in the meantime the dietician said that one of the main pieces of advice is that as a general rule I should never eat meat bought from a supermarket because of the added colourings and preservatives.  I also can't have any cured meat (unless I cure it myself).  I did in fact speak to the butcher at one of the big supermarkets nearby.  I won't name the supermarket chain, but the butcher did tell me that they do dye a lot of their meats.  Even the organic meats, which arrive at the shop unadulterated, but then the supermarket themselves add the dye.  They can still sell the meat as organic, because that is how it has been reared and prepared, up until the point of arrival in the shop.  I don't know about you, but I think that's diabolical.

Before I became vegetarian I never enjoyed holding raw meat, but I've done a lot of reading in recent times, and one of the books I've read is Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's 'Meat' book.  In it he talks a lot about the ethics of eating meat, and says that if an animal dies for us to eat then we have a responsibility to treat it with the respect that it deserves (it says a lot of other things too and is worth reading).  I've born this in mind when  I've been handling fish and chicken - the only two meats I've eaten so far - and haven't had that thought of 'Eurgh, this is disgusting,' that I used to have.  It is, after all, still just the animal that was walking around in the field, or swimming in the sea/river, before and that I respected.  I'm going to be trying lamb tomorrow, and I'm hoping that I'll feel the same way with that too.  I can't see any reason why I wouldn't.

It's taking a bit of getting used to having meat in my mouth again.  It's the texture, not the taste, and the weird feeling of having my teeth kind of stuck together by the food that I'm eating.  But so far as the taste is concerned, I've liked it.  So far I've had trout, salmon, sole, and chicken, but I'm very much still learning how to cook any of it, although the advice I've had from the fishmonger and farm shop butcher has been spot on.

I think this is going to be an interesting journey.  It may not always be entirely comfortable, but that'll be for me to consider along the way.  At the moment I think I've made the right decision for me, not least because I've just been diagnosed as anaemic again.  I'm sick of taking endless tablets, and whilst there's not a lot I can do about taking almost all of them, I can try to help myself with my iron levels, and maybe not have to rely on iron tablets for too long.

Controversial

I'm the sort of person who usually thinks about big decisions a lot before 'making them public', which means that such decisions can appear to others to come out of the blue.  This happened when I set up my business, '9 Lives Craft Designs.'  I thought about it a great deal and looked into the practicalities and financial implications on my own before telling others my plans.  When I did then tell people they were somewhat surprised the next time they came around and my flat was covered in handmade cards and craft materials all over the place.

I'm thinking about something 'big' now.  Something that will greatly surprise those who know me well and have known me a long time ... I'm thinking ... Hmmm, am I ready to disclose this? ... I guess I must be in some respects as I've started writing this post ... ... ... I'm thinking of giving up vegetarianism.  There, I've said it.

I haven't yet made my final decision, and it is a major decision because I have been a lacto-ovo vegetarian (a vegetarian who drinks milk and eats eggs) for twenty years.  There were a number of reasons I decided to become vegetarian all that time ago: firstly, there were the ethics of eating meat, manufacturing animals, and slaughtering animals; and then there was the fact that I was in the midst of an eating disorder, and any reason not to eat something was helpful in maintaining that disorder 'legitimately'.  There were other reasons too, but these are probably the two that are most influential in this time of reconsideration.

I have battled with my weight for years, but during my late teens and twenties I fought with both anorexia and bulimia.  I have overcome these, but I have soared into the obese range, and I don't just mean this as a subjective thing from my perspective.  As I've said, my decision to become vegetarian was also based upon my ethics, but it was also influenced by my fear of food at the time.  Yes, I still battle with food, but I wonder if it might make a difference if I tried giving up this last restriction I imposed upon myself, although I have to say that it hasn't felt like an imposition.

As for the ethical thing, that's more difficult.  I still have big uncertainties about the meat industry, and should I decide to become omnivorous again I would avoid mass-produced meat.  Mind you, I wouldn't be able to eat most of the mass-produced stuff anyway because of allergies.  Most supermarket meat is injected with red food colouring to make it appear bloodier and therefore fresher, and some are also covered in preservatives.  Both colourings and most preservatives instigate anaphylaxis in me.

That said, health is one of the things that's been making me think about giving up vegetarianism.  My diet is so restricted because of my allergies, and although I've managed well since all the allergies were eventually diagnosed seven years ago, I depend on dairy products and eggs a great deal as sources of protein.  In recent years I have also been prone to anaemia, which is exhausting and doesn't at all help the POTS, or my health in general.  Yes, I have beans and pulses regularly, but I'm still lacking in protein and iron.

I know that some vegetarians who return to an omnivorous diet eat only fish.  Some still continue to call themselves vegetarian even though they eat fish.  I don't hold with that view - that you are vegetarian if you eat fish, because it's still a body.  I wonder what the ethics are behind only eating fish... I'm not convinced that eating fish is any different from eating any other animal, and I think that if I decide to give up vegetarianism then I will not differentiate between fish and meat.

I was in the supermarket today, and whilst I wouldn't be able to eat supermarket meat, as previously mentioned, I did make myself wander down the meat aisle.  I'm not sure how I felt.

Contemplating this change in lifestyle feels very controversial ... mainly within myself, but maybe too with those who've known me for a long time.

I haven't yet made the decision, but I know which way I'm veering.

Bedtime story

In my last blog post I spoke briefly about the Writing for Children module that I'm doing as part of my MA, and I mentioned how I'm not yet sure whether to do the Zachariah Zebedee stories or a continuation of my asthma book for my MA portfolio.  At the moment I think I might try working on both and decide closer to the time which of the two would be best to hand in for my portfolio.  However, I also thought that I'd share a ZZ story with you.  This hasn't undergone much editing yet, and I'm waiting for feedback from my tutor before I do any major editing on it, but it might change a little once I have that feedback.  Anyway, enjoy...

Zachariah Zebedee Has a Meeting

It was very late at night when you will have been tucked up in bed, Zachariah Zebedee was curled up on the back of the sofa, and Zachariah Zebedee’s human was fast asleep.  The cat flap made a little rattle-tattle and Zachariah Zebedee pricked up his ears.

            ‘Whozat?’

            He stared through the dark towards the kitchen and waited.

            ‘Nuffin’,’ thought Zachariah Zebedee, and he began to get himself comfy again, resting his head on his front paws and curling his tail around himself so that he could have tickled his nose if he’d wanted to.  But very soon there was another rattle-tattle of the cat flap.  Then click, rattle rattle, click, and a pitter-patter of claws on the lino.

            ‘This my house! Only I is allowed in my house,’ he whispered to himself as he sat up straight.  Then ever so quietly he stepped down from the back of the sofa onto the squishy seat.  Ever so quietly he stepped down from the squishy seat onto the floor.  Ever so quietly he flattened himself to the floor and dusted the polished floorboards with his tummy as he crawled in silence towards the kitchen.

            Zachariah Zebedee got as far as the kitchen door and then got a little bit scared.  He stopped.

            ‘Maybe it be a monster ... Maybe it be a DOG!’  He nearly let out a little whimper when he thought it might be a dog, but then he reminded himself, ‘No.  I is Zachariah Zebedee.  I is very brave.  I is gonna –’  But just as Zachariah Zebedee was about to think of how one day he planned to rule the world, he heard a loud crunch.

            ‘That my food!’ he yowled.  He puffed up all the fur on his back and all the fur on his tail so that he looked as big and scary as he could to a possible monster or dog.  He leapt the last little way to the corner where a rather large white cat with patches of tiger was munching and crunching Zachariah Zebedee’s biscuits.

            ‘My food!’ Zachariah Zebedee yowled again.  ‘My house!’

            The rather large white cat with patches of tiger glanced up.  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said with a bored kind of voice, and set right back to munching and crunching Zachariah Zebedee’s biscuits.

            ‘Nooo! This my house!  Get out!’  And Zachariah Zebedee flicked out five of his sharpest claws.

            The rather large white cat with patches of tiger stopped munching and crunching, gave a little cough as he swallowed his last mouthful, smirked, and looked Zachariah Zebedee in the eye.

            ‘You’re young.  You’re new round here.  I’ll let you off this time, but you should know that this is my patch.  I’m Philip, but you can call me Boss, like everyone else.  Any house round here is my house, and any food is my food.’

            ‘’Tisn’t!  This my house!  Get out!’ and Zachariah Zebedee swiped at Philip with the paw that was showing his five sharpest claws.

            Philip just managed to avoid being caught, but was so unused to being shouted at by other cats that he forgot all about being cool and calm.

            ‘I’m Boss Cat!  Everything is mine!’ he yowled, and tried to hit back at Zachariah Zebedee with five of his own sharpest claws.

            Zachariah Zebedee growled and hissed and shouted back.  Soon there was an almighty commotion going on in the kitchen with Philip and Zachariah Zebedee both claiming the house to be theirs and the food for them.  They were so busy fighting and arguing that neither of them heard the heavy footsteps in the living room.  Suddenly the kitchen light flicked on, and both the cats stopped fighting.

            ‘HOOMAN!’ yelled Philip.

            ‘My hooman,’ hissed Zachariah Zebedee.

            ‘What a racket,’ exclaimed the human. ‘And who are you?’ she said to Philip.

            Philip whimpered, ‘h-hooman...’ and turned half of his body towards the cat flap.  Zachariah Zebedee hissed a loud hiss, growled a loud growl, and yowled a loud yowl of ‘This my house!’  He kept staring at Philip and concentrated hard on keeping the fur on his back and the fur on his tail as puffed up and as spiky as he could make it.  ‘I is a very scary cat,’ he thought to himself.

            Philip looked at the human, he looked at Zachariah Zebedee, and he looked back at the human.  ‘H-hooman...’ he whimpered again.

            ‘Go on.  You don’t live here.  Off you go,’ said the human.  She stepped towards Philip, and Philip slipped and scrabbled on the lino until at last he managed to scarper out of the cat flap.

            Zachariah Zebedee’s human went to the window to see that the rather large white cat with patches of tiger had gone.

            Zachariah Zebedee peered through the clear plastic door of the cat flap and gave a warning growl to Philip who was still in the yard.

            Philip looked at Zachariah Zebedee’s face at the cat flap and at the human’s face at the window.  He squeezed himself under the bottom of the fence and disappeared into the darkness of the backlane.

            ‘I is very brave,’ Zachariah Zebedee said to his human.  ‘I seed him off.  I is very clever.’

            Of course, the human only heard Zachariah Zebedee say meow a few times, and she thought that perhaps he wanted a cuddle.  She bent down to stroke him, but Zachariah Zebedee still had all his fur puffed up and wasn’t in a strokeable mood.  He slithered underneath his human’s hand and went to munch and crunch on what was left of his biscuits.

            ‘Philip bad cat, not Boss Cat.  This my food.’

            The sleepy human put the light out and went back to bed.  Zachariah Zebedee curled up on the back of the sofa again, wrapped his tail around his body again, and dozed with one ear pricked up and one eye almost open.  While he dozed he thought about how he might show Philip that he wasn’t Boss Cat, and just before he slipped into proper sleep, Zachariah Zebedee thought to himself, ‘What I is needin’ is a catapult and a trampoline.’

Time out

I'm still up in Edinburgh till tomorrow evening, but I've had a lovely break while I've been here.  I did a great deal of not very much over Easter weekend, except for a couple of trundles round the pond in the nearby park, and a slightly longer venture into the park and surrounding area last Sunday.  It's great to be able to go for a trundle and enjoy some time in the park with Mum and J, because there have been so many times over recent years when my lungs and the POTS have meant that I just haven't been up to it.  Taz makes it possible, so whilst it's not great that I need to use the wheelchair, it's great that I've got it and that it enables me to make the most of life.

Mum and J live in a lovely part of Edinburgh, and although it's only a couple of miles outside the city centre, it's very leafy and the local park is lovely.  They have a sizeable garden at the front of the house (not massive, but big enough to be called sizeable), and Mum likes to leave food out for all the little birds.  But while I've been here it hasn't just been the blackbirds, robins, wood pigeons, etc that have been visiting the garden, but also a tawny owl.  I've heard it in the area most nights, hooting its hooo-hooo-hoooooo, and its occasional ke-wick, sometimes in the distance, but often much closer.  At about 2.30am one night I was lying in bed unable to sleep when I heard it very close by, so I got up to peer out of the window and see if I could see it.  Sure enough, it was sitting in the copper birch tree just outside my bedroom at the end of the garden.  At first I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was the owl, but it was soon confirmed when it started to hoot and everytime it did it tossed its head up, as if it was saying, 'I'm a very proud owl.  Listen to what I have to say.'  Then it would ruffle its tail feathers before doing the whole thing again.  I watched it for several minutes before climbing back into bed, but the owl stayed where it was and hooted into the night.  I fell asleep soon after getting back into bed, nicely relaxed, smiling, and marvelling at the beauty of nature.

I think that was possibly on Tuesday, and that I hadn't been able to sleep because it'd been a rather mixed day.  It had been the funeral of my friend J in afternoon, but of course I hadn't been able to go to the funeral because of being up here.  I'd had some quiet time in the afternoon thinking about her and praying for her and her family and I'd felt a bit pensive and sad.  I'd also been concerned about my friend R who was having an operation in Newcastle that day, so I was very mindful of her and had been wondering how things had gone.  Thankfully all seems to have gone as well as could be expected, and while she's in some pain, she seems to be mending and is hoping to get home soon.

After a day of contemplation and thinking about my friends, in the evening Mum, J and I had gone to the theatre to see South Pacific.  It was great fun.  I've seen it once before many years ago in Newcastle, and this production possibly wasn't quite as vibrant as that one had been, but it was still well worth seeing, and some of the actors had fantastic singing voices.  The actress who played the part of Bloody Mary was particularly good and Mum and I both came home with Bloody Mary's song 'Bali Hai' (or however it's spelled) going round in our heads.  Actually, we still both keep breaking out into song with that one every so often.  Either that or 'I'm Going to Wash That Man Right Out of my Hair', which I don't think pleases J too much ;oP  (not that he has anything to worry about.  Mum and J were curled up on the sofa together yesterday evening, and next year they celebrate 20 years of marriage).

So I pretty sure that it was Wednesday afternoon that we got the bus all the way across town to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art to see the Edvard Munch exhibition.  If any of you are up in Edinburgh between now and the middle of September, and you like modern art, then this exhibition is definitely worth seeing.  It doesn't have many (if any) of Munch's paintings, but instead is largely comprised of his lithographs and woodblock prints, although a number of these were subjects that he also painted.  One of these - 'Meloncholy' - is a painting that I examined and commented on as part of the last End of Course of Assessment for the last module of my undergraduate degree, so I was particularly interested in seeing the woodblock print of this.  As the title suggests, it's not a cheery picture, but then Munch wasn't a cheery fellow, having lost both his parents when he was young and a beloved older sister not long after that.  Many of the pictures reflect a deep sadness, almost a depression, and certainly a mourning for those he loved who had died, but there is the occasional relief too when looking round the exhibition.  Yes, definitely worth seeing if you get the chance.

I had a quiet day on Thursday, and have spent many peaceful hours on this trip north sitting doing cross-stitch.  I'm working on one called 'Birds on Wisteria'

This image is taken from the website from where I bought the kit, rather than being the finished product of my work.  I haven't actually finished it yet, although I have done a huge amount while I've been here and don't suppose it'll be all that long until I do finish it.  I love cross-stitch.  It's so relaxing, totally absorbing, and very satisfying.  It hasn't been easy doing all the sewing I have with my hand still mending after last month's surgery, but as I'm mostly just holding the material and hoop with my left hand it's not too bad, although the scar is quite painful so I hope I'm not doing it any harm.  Anyway, I've been enjoying doing the cross-stitch, and pretty much the only thing I did on Thursday was go into town on the bus to get some more of one colour of thread for the cross-stitch as I'd made a major mistake and had had to unpick about eight hours worth of work!  This had been extremely annoying, but more than that, it had meant that I didn't have enough of that colour to finish the piece.  Thankfully I was able to find the right colour in town, so came back after that little adventure and set back to sewing.

I didn't actually do a huge amount of cross-stitch that evening as we had my friend O and her husband A round for dinner, which was lovely.  I met O through the Open University after we'd both studied the creative writing module A215.  O is fab, and I love spending time with her so it was great that she and A came round on Thursday evening, and so very kind of my mum to cook a fabulous meal for us all.  It was a very lovely evening with great food and lots of interesting and varied conversation.

I saw O again on Friday as we'd booked in for a salty experience at The Salt Cave.  We went there together last summer, and while I don't know if its claims of being a successful treatment for lots of different medical conditions (including asthma) are true, it is certainly a very relaxing experience.  It also hasn't done me any harm, and to be fair, my nose has felt really clear after both times that I've been.  This time, O and I were the only people booked in for the four o'clock session so we had the place to ourselves.  Not long after we'd made ourselves comfortable, the lights were dimmed, the salty air machine (or whatever it is) was put on, and gentle music that combined the sound of waves lapping up onto a shore was played into the room.  We both fell asleep.  We also both came out rather salty, with a thin covering of white salt having to be dusted off the front of our clothes before we left the room, and my lips were still salty when I got home.

So then there was Saturday and Mum, J and I walked/trundled off through The Meadows in the afternoon for a relatively short visit to The National Museum of Scotland.  I hadn't known before I went there this time that they have a few pieces of Benin art, but when I read this on the back of the floorplan we were given as we went in I was particularly interested in seeing them as I'd studied some Benin art history in the last module for undergraduate degree.  Mum and J have obviously been to the museum several times, but apparently they haven't yet managed to get beyond the first or second floor.  The pieces of Benin art are on the fifth floor, so they hadn't seen these and were all up for rectifying this when I told them what I know about the history of them.  There's only one display case with Benin art in it, but it's amazing stuff, and the rest of the stuff in that room is fantastic too.  We took a slow wander around the displays in that room and the adjoining one, then went for a mooch around the museum shop before walking/trundling home again.  It was good to take our time over a small section of the museum and to come away feeling as though we'd had some focus on what we'd seen.  None of us felt overloaded with information or overwhelmed by too many artifacts, and it was such a pleasant day - crisp, but bright and not too chilly - that the walk/trundle either way had topped it off.

Finally, Saturday evening saw us going to the cinema to see 'The Artist'.  Mum and J had seen it before, but both quite wanted to see it again, and as I hadn't seen it I was up for it, especially after all the excellent reviews I've heard about it.  Oh, and of course it won all those Oscars too.  It's a great film!  I reckon Mum's right when she says that she thinks it'll become a classic.  It almost seems as though it already is, or ought to be, because its a silent film in black and white.

It's ages since I've been to the cinema, probably a year or maybe even longer.  I've wanted to go to things, but just when I've started to make plans to go I've got ill and ended up in hospital so I think the last thing I saw at the cinema was the final Harry Potter film.  It was either that or 'The King's Speech', whichever of those was the most recent.  Anyway, I got to 'The Artist' tonight/last night, and it was fab.  Mum and J go to a little independent cinema called The Dominion, for which they have Gold Membership.  This basically means that they pay an annual subscription and then get reduced tickets to all the films they go to through the year, and they also get extra comfy seats.  When I say 'extra comfy' you need to be thinking of reclining leather seats with foot rests, so it's like lying on a sofa.  Oh, and they get free drinks and crisps too with their membership.  It's brilliant.  I've been a few times with them and I love it every time I go.

So that's been my stay up north in Edinburgh.  Back home tomorrow evening/this evening (Sunday) and back to university next week, but hopefully I'll be going back feeling more refreshed than I have for a while.  My lungs are a little iffy, but they're manageable, and maybe the TLC and the time out that I've had over the past ten days will have built up my resilience a little.

Here's hoping for an easy journey home.

Gallery

I'm home. I've actually been home for a week, but I've been doing a certain amount of catching up on sleep, oh, and a little bit of study too, but rest and sleep have been my priorities. I've had a little more energy today than I have the rest of the week, so perhaps I'm picking up now.

Despite being tired, and having rather a lot to be tired from, I did enjoy (most) of my time away in Lancashire, and I thought I'd share some of my photos from it with you. The most random photo of the holiday has to be this first one:

Having looked this up online I see that it's probably a story about a controversial art exhibition at the Harris Museum, but still the mind boggles. O and I actually went to the Harris Museum, but rather than seeing any giant moles we saw a rather good exhibition by Shirley Craven and the Hull Traders, which I'd certainly recommend if you happen to be in Preston.

I haven't been to Preston before, and I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by it. I'm not sure what I was expecting ... perhaps a rather industrial town, but no, the centre of it at least was full of old architecture, and all the people we met were very friendly (particularly those in the Harris Museum, who seemed so encouraged by our enjoyment of the place that they insisted on imparting all their knowledge). Of course, Preston also gets brownie points from me for getting my car through its MOT despite the bump in the back and the missing rear windscreen wiper. So anyway, here's a pic of a row of old telephone boxes O and I came across in Preston and were looking particularly photogenic.

I wrote in my last post about the mini saga of getting from the centre of Preston to the garage where we'd left the car. I told how we hadn't known the bus route and had ended up getting off at a stop rather a long way from where we'd wanted to be. Well one of the benefits (or possibly the only benefit) of this diversion was that we had the opportunity to stop on our walk to the garage to take a photo of the rather wonderful sunset. At least I think it was a sunset, rather than the moon. Everything was foggy. Everything was frosty. The sky was white. The sun/moon was also white. I haven't changed the colours or converted the photo below into black and white, but this is the scene:

Do you think it's the sun or the moon? I think it's the sun (it was only about 2.30pm) seen through the fog, but it could be either.

When it wasn't foggy we had a couple of evenings with wonderful sunsets. We had brilliant views of these from the cottage as it was some way up a hillside. Here are a couple of the lovely sunsets we saw:

The opposite end of the day was the most active time at the bird table in the garden directly outside the kitchen/living room. Unfortunately I didn't manage to get a photo of any of the chickens pecking away at the food on top of the bird table - something I hadn't seen before so I found it quite amusing - but here's a photo of one of the cockerals that came to snaffle some of the scraps on the ground:

And the reason for most of the scraps on the ground - other than the chickens and occasional grouse that would also come and scrounge the food on the top of the bird table - were the little birds. Mainly these were bluetits, but there were also great tits, nuthatches, chaffinches, robbins, sparrows, and various other little birds. Here are just a couple of photos of some of these to finish off my little holiday gallery:

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I'm not sure what's happened with the formatting of the sunset photos. There doesn't seem to be a lot I can do about it unless I delete and re-upload, and quite honestly I can't be bothered ;oP I'm sure you'll cope :o)