Progressing

I'm nine days down the line of admission and I'm progressing well, surprisingly well.  I felt rough with both the asthma and the 'flu at the beginning of the admission, but things have been going okay, and rather amazingly I'm hoping to get home tomorrow!  It's a long while since I had an admission of under a fortnight, so to be getting home on day ten will be really quite something, though I know that I'll have to be sensible and take things easy when I get out of here.  That said, I don't think it's going to be too difficult to take things easy as I'm still very tired, which is probably a combination of the asthma and the 'flu virus.  As you most likely know, I quite often launch myself right back into life with little time for proper rest and recuperation, but this time I'll have to be sure that I do as I'm due back at university a week on Tuesday and it's going to be a heavy semester.  I have two-thirds of a two year MA to do in two-thirds of one academic year...

For all that this admission hasn't been too bad in the scheme of things, it'll be a relief to get home.  I know that I will have to pace myself, and that I will probably keep tiring easily for a while yet, but I'm definitely emotionally ready to get back to my own place.  During the past couple of days I've felt the beginnings of the hodpits lurking within, not in a major way, but enough to feel their niggle every so often.

Yesterday I had a bit of a taster of how exhausting getting back into life this week is going to be as I had an appointment at the RVI for follow-up with the plastic surgeon after my Carpal Tunnel Syndrome op six weeks ago.  Obviously I had to go to the appointment from here, which wasn't as straight forward as it ought to have been as Patient Transport Services (PTS) were pretty rubbish.  My appointment at the RVI was for 9.45am so PTS said I needed to be read for pick up from the ward at the Freeman anytime from 8.15am.  I'm not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination so 8.15am often feels like the middle of the night, especially when I've been poorly.  However, the nurse came and woke me at 7.30am and I was up, washed, dressed, and ready for pick up by 8.15am as requested, but PTS didn't arrive until 9.55am - ten minutes after my appointment at the other hospital.  Thankfully, the nurse here phoned through to the clinic and told them I was going to be late, and said that she'd call them again when I'd left the ward, but I'm not sure that would actually have been an awful lot of use to the clinic as PTS then went and picked up two other patients before finally setting off for the RVI.  They then dropped off one of these other patients before they took me to the clinic I was due at, arriving for my 9.45am appointment at 10.40am!  I was not impressed at all.  However, I was thankful that I was still seen in clinic as they could easily have refused.  In the end I was only in the consulting room with the surgeon for all of five minutes max, during which time he assessed the result of the surgery I've had, was pleased with progress, said I could drive again without problem, and told me I should have the other hand done now.  That'll be within the next six weeks, but last time I was told this I ended up having the op eleven days later, so it could be almost anytime from now.  I know the op needs to be done, so it's better to get it out of the way, I suppose, but I feel a little shell-shocked if I'm honest.  No time for rest or a break from hospitals.  I suspect it's contributed to the hodpits niggles.  I hope I get at least a few days of relative normality at home before I have the surgery...

Now, on a completely different subject, one of the meds I take is a steroid nasal spray.  For some reason (probably financial) the pharmacy here have this time sent up nasal drops instead of a spray.  It's the same medication, just a different method of administering the drug.  The trouble with drops and noses, though, is that drops go down and noses go up, so I was a little perplexed as to how I was supposed to get the drops into my nose.  I came up with the radical idea of reading the patient information leaflet that comes with the drops, and low and behold there were instructions!  Much to my amusement the instructions suggest that the patient stand on their head and then maintain their upside position for at least one minute!  I'm in a room of my own so I haven't been able to see if others have been prescribed these drops, and if so whether or not they're standing on their head, but I haven't been aware of any other patients assuming a general upside down position for at least a minute, although one of the nurses did say that she'd been given these drops recently too and she'd had to get help from some of her colleagues to help her with the upsidedownness.  The blasted nasal drops don't even come with a cushion, which you'd think they ought to if the manufacturers are suggesting those who use them stand on their head.  What's more, I can tell you from experience that assuming an upside down position rather impedes breathing ability ... and then of course there's the POTS, which certainly doesn't agree with being upside down.  I have been rebellious.  Oh, no fear, I've been taking the meds, but I haven't been standing on my head.  No, I've been much more refined and have, instead, been tilting my head all the way back before squeezing the drops into my nose.  It seems to get them far enough back as they drop all the way down into my throat ... which is perhaps a little too far, so maybe they won't be doing the job...  One thing is for sure, I won't be asking my GP to change my regular prescription, but at least the idea of a ward full of folk who can't breathe at the best of times now having to stand on their heads to administer their medication made me smile :o)

Anyone for a nasal drop?

In passing

Do you ever overhear snippets of conversations and wonder how on earth they fit into the whole?  I was passing a couple of young men the other day as I trundled through the campus of Northumbria University on my way home, when I heard one of them say to other, 'I have a real hatred of shoe laces.'  Was this a comment out of the blue?  Was it part of a wider conversation about shoes?  What does this guy hate so much about shoe laces?  I was almost tempted to turn around and chase after them to ask.  I resisted in the end, thinking that they might think I was stalking them, or at the least very strange.  No comments from the back! ;oP

On a completely different note, I saw the most terrible thing from the bus window the other day.  We were going down the main shopping street on the edge of quite a deprived part of Newcastle and I saw a young man, who I presume was the father, put a cigarette into a child's mouth.  The child must only have been about 4 or 5 years old, and the 'father' was clearly instructing the child on how to light the cigarette.  It was an awful sight.  It's bad enough to see teenagers smoking, let alone very young children being plied with cigarettes.  It made me angry, and so angry that I felt sick.  I think I would go as far as saying I consider what I saw to be child abuse.  What about you?

On the buses

W and I have been to Beamish Museum three times this summer, most recently on Wednesday.  It's a great day out - a 'living' open-air museum, covering a vast area, depicting life in the late 19th century/early 20th century in northern England.  It's a fascinating place, lots of fun and great for all ages.

The first time, W and I went in my car, taking my attendant-assisted wheelchair.  W pushed me around in it all day, and although she doesn't mind doing this, it is a heck of a lot of work, especially on the cobbles and up and down the hills at Beamish.  The second and third times we went, W drove and I got the bus so that I could go in Taz (my electric wheelchair) - much better all-round, although it did mean a pretty early start for me.

I think the first time I went to Beamish in Taz was in late July.  It means getting a bus from my house into town, and then a bus from town to Beamish, which is in County Durham and takes almost an hour on the bus.  When the bus from town (28) arrived at the bus station the driver informed me that I wouldn't be able to get on the bus because the ramp was broken, but then it transpired that because this bus service is advertised as accessible, and it was the bus company's fault that this particular bus wasn't accessible, they have a legal obligation to get me to my destination.  The bus company ended up paying for a taxi to take me from Newcastle to Beamish, costing them £28.80.  I was told that the same thing would probably happen on the way back.  The route is covered by the numbers 28 and 28A buses, both of which do a circular route, though ever so slightly different.  As it turned out that day the weather was atrocious so W and I abandoned our Beamish visit after 4 hours of getting soaked, and the first bus that came was the 28A, the ramp of which was working fine.

I thought that the ramp on the 28 would probably have been fixed by the time we went back to Beamish on Wednesday, but it turned out not to be.  Again the bus company paid for a taxi to take me from Newcastle to Beamish, this time costing them £15.50 (they used a different company).  After a fantastic day together (about which I'll do another post sometime soon with some photos), W and I headed for the exit and the last bus (W waited at the bus stop with me before she drove home).  It arrived, and it was the 28 with the broken ramp, so we had to go through the rigmarole of having the bus driver phone through to control to get them to sort out a taxi and to pass on my details so control could phone me back and let me know how long I'd have to wait.  The call took longer than usual to come through on my mobile and when it did, control were ever so apologetic, but they couldn't get me a taxi as it was rush hour and all the taxi companies they'd tried were busy.  Instead they were sending a bus from not-too-far-away Chester-le-Street to take me to Newcastle.  A whole bus just for me!

While W and I waited for this personal bus service to arrive, a family of three generations came to the bus stop to find that they'd missed the last bus back to Newcastle.  They weren't very happy.  I explained my own situation and said that if they were sending a whole bus just for me then it'd be really mean of the bus company to refuse to take them too, seeing as I was going exactly where they wanted to go.  We decided that we'd team up and they could chance it.

Then the bus arrived.  Not only did I have a whole bus to myself, but I had a whole, bright pink, double-decker bus!  All for me!  Just me (so far as control were concerned)!  Well the bus driver was a cheery fellow and he had no qualms at all about taking the additional passengers, and he let them all travel for free :o)  I get free travel on the buses anyway as a disabled passenger :o)

But the saga wasn't over.  No.  Just as I was getting on to the private, pink monster-bus, the 28A doing it's last journey for the day to Chester-le-Street pulled up at the bus stop and said that control had been on the radio saying that we may have to swap buses because they suddenly realised that the double-decker wouldn't be able to get under a low bridge on the 28's usual route.  It would've made sense to swap the buses over as there were only 7 of us on the pink monster-bus, whereas the single-decker 28A was jam-packed with people standing in the aisles.  However, it was decided that the pink monster-bus would divert from the usual route of the 28, at first going all round the houses and then onto the A1, so as to avoid the problem low bridge.

After setting off, the driver put some lights on for us inside the bus, then he started playing with them, flashing them on and off saying that it was party time and he thought we should have disco :o)  I was secretly glad when he didn't continue playing with the light switch as he drove us round some fairly twisty roads.  Then he said that we needed some music, but he didn't have a stereo so someone should sing.  Well the family of three generations had two very young children amongst their number, so they started off singing 'The wheels on the bus go round and round' :o)  It was all very jolly, and totally, totally mad.

:o)

Brides

Two of my friends got married on Saturday.  It was a lovely wedding and C, the bride, looked beautiful.  The occasion, though, reminded me of a conversation I had with my mother a few weeks ago.  It was a very surreal conversation, and one that you should probably never have with your mother.

I'll be graduating with my under graduate degree this September (I just sent off my last essay today!) and I'm having a party to celebrate.  My mum suggested the party when I was in hospital sometime last year or the year before, and it was just before my most recent admission that I started to organise the party and send out invitations.

Mum and J are very kindly paying for most of the party, and it was while we were discussing some of the costs that this surreal conversation took place, beginning with her saying, 'Of course, if you decide to get married next year then we'll have to have a re-think about finances.'

????????  'Yeeees, but I need a man, and a relationship with a man, before getting married becomes a possibility.'

'Hmmm.  Have you thought about maybe going to Thailand and getting a Thai bride?'

??????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????????!!!!!!!!!! 'No.  I can honestly say that I haven't.  And Mum, I'm not gay.  You do know that, don't you?'

'Yes, it's just ... Well, I thought with your liberal views, and all that...'

?????!!!!!!!????????  'Er.  Um.  Right.  I see.'  NO, I DON'T!!! What liberal views in particular????  'Well, um, I'm not gay, and I'm not going to Thailand to get a wife.'

'Oh.  Okay ... So you won't be getting married next year?'

'No, I think that's very unlikely.  Lovely as it would be to be getting married, I do want to marry a man, and I want it to be a man I love.'

I have no idea where that idea of hers came from, and I have to say that I felt as though I ought to be apologising for being straight.  I'm also rather perplexed as to why she seemed to think I might want a bride!  And a Thai bride!  This is the woman who was anxious about me being well enough to go to North Yorkshire, so I have no idea where this notion of me jetting off to Thailand came from.  And a bride from Thailand!!!   The conversation seems so wrong in so many ways.

Completely surreal.  Totally bizarre.

Access

I can't get into my local pharmacy.  You'd think that of all the places that'd be wheelchair accessible it'd be a chemist shop, but no, my local one has a step about 6 inches high at the door and no ramp.  It doesn't even have a door bell.  Helpfully (or not), it has one of those large push-buttons with the wheelchair symbol on so that the door opens automatically and a wheelchair user doesn't then have to negotiate holding the door open as they try to go through, but that's not an awful lot of use when you can't actually get up the step to go through the door.  It's a bit rubbish really, especially as I'm there quite frequently to get the huge prescriptions of meds that keep me alive.  When I go there I use that push-button on the outside of the shop, keeping my elbow on it so that the door doesn't then close on my face after a few seconds, and knock the letterbox until someone at the till on the other side of the shop notices me.  Either that or I ask some passing person if they can tell a member of staff that I'm there.  I will eventually be seen to, but have to wait outside while my script is being prepared, and this can take some time.  It's not so bad if the weather's good, but it's no fun at all if it's freezing cold, pouring with rain, or blowing a gale, and it also makes me feel very much like a second-class citizen.

Two and a half years ago I asked them if they had any plans to get a ramp.  They didn't, but after my enquiry they applied for planning permission.  Excellent!  Not so excellent has been the council's response.  When there was a 'trend' for ram-raiders the pharmacy put up concrete bollards in front of the large, glass frontage, and these have since caused a problem with getting planning permission for a ramp.  Goodness knows why.  Anyway, I got a bit fed up with waiting so checked the progress of the ramp planning permission on the council's website, and came up with nothing.  I couldn't see any mention anywhere of an application having been made.  Hmmm.  I contacted my local councillor to see if he could help, after all he was so helpful with getting the snow cleared for me so I could get to the doctors at the height of that awful weather in December.  He made enquiries.  He contacted the regional manager of this national pharmacy chain.  They sent an email back to him saying that they had no plans to install a ramp at this store and hadn't set aside any money to do so.  My friendly councillor pointed out that they were in breech of the Disability Discrimination Act, and low and behold they agreed to have a meeting with Mr Friendly Councillor ... only then there was a change of regional manager and the new one had to get up to speed with her new role before she could meet with Mr Friendly Councillor.

I was at the pharmacy again yesterday, sitting outside in the 60-70mph winds, when the store manager came out.  I've been hassling her intermittently about getting a ramp in the hope that she'd hassle her boss and the hassle would continue up the chain, and something somewhere seems to have worked, because yesterday she told me that they've been granted planning permission for a temporary ramp.  This is fantastic, though I do wonder what a temporary ramp is, and how temporary is temporary, and does it mean that they're just going to have a ramp for a short while and then take it away again, or are they actually going to replace the temporary ramp with a permanent one.  Whatever, it's great that I'll be able to get into the shop at last, even if it is only for a short time.  Mind you, there's no saying how long it'll take to get this temporary ramp installed.

On the window of the same store is this sign (apologies for the reflections):

It tickles me.  I know the two pieces of information on the sign aren't supposed to be linked, but the fact that they appear on the same sign, and there's a complete lack of punctuation, does make it look as though they will charge for any help they give to the disabled, elderly, or those with children ... and it does kind of fit with the attitude the regional manager has appeared to have regarding ramp access to this store.  It really does tickle me, though :o)

Embrace the moment

Life is for living, wouldn't you agree? There are times when opportunities arise either to embrace moments of life or look all embarrassed and shirk away from them. Last night I was presented with one of these opportunities, and had one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I had come out of my PGC memoir writing class and was somewhat thoughtful after a couple of the exercises we'd done, but I was fairly cheery nonetheless, because I've been enjoying this module immensely and finding it very stimulating. I'd left the university grounds and was making my way down Northumberland Street - the main shopping street in Newcastle city centre - in my electric wheelchair, when I was challenged to a race. That would be an odd occurence in itself, but what made this particularly surreal was that my challenger was a man dressed as a nun driving a small, white grand piano, adorned with spiralled, blue rope lights, making it look quite magnificent as it came up the street in the dark, blasting out its variations of pop music (of sorts). It has to be said that I was a little bemused by the sight, but also thought it was wonderful with a particular kind of craziness. So having been challenged to a race by this 'nun' I had quickly to decide whether or not to embrace the silliness and possible embarrassment. I was on my own, but the street was still vibrant because the shops were still open, and it being 7.15 on a Thursday night in Newcastle there were more than a few who were already starting their weekend celebrations. They, and many others had heard the nun ask me if I'd like a race and there were guffaws all round, which then developed into whoops of incredulous pleasure when I decided to embrace the moment and accept the challenge. I had to do a little negotiation though as I'd been whizzing down the street and the nun had been driving his piano up the street. At first he was reluctant to go in the direction I wanted to go (I'm not sure why), but when I said that I needed to be heading vaguely towards my bus stop then he relented, and he did the race going backwards. I have to say that I've never before raced a man dressed as a nun who's driving a small grand piano blasting out pop music, but it was great fun. It was, I'm sorry to say, a very short race, but I won all the same :oD And the spectators cheered and laughed and enjoyed the sight of a nun driving a piano racing a woman in an electric wheelchair. And I've been smiling about it a great deal ever since, so I'm particularly pleased that I embraced the moment of silliness and lived that little moment of life, when it would've been so easy to give into the fear of embarrassment.

I've done a Google search on 'my nun' and I've found that he's called Sister Ruth, has her own website, and travels the country doing all sorts of gigs and parties. Great fun! Live life and embrace the moment!

Case concluded

I'm most disappointed. I'm not going to have my day in court after all :o( I received a letter on Friday from the Criminal Justice System Prosecution Team telling me that the police caught up with the man who attempted to thieve my holey watering can, and at his second hearing he pleaded guilty. I guess it's about time that something sensible happened in this most ridiculous affair, but it's disappointing all the same that I'm not going to be able to watch the magistrate try to keep a straight face during a full trial. Now that the defendant has been found guilty (on account of finally pleading guilty) I suppose it's alright for me to name him here ... So, for the 'following charges:

1. Theft
2. Failing to surrender to custody at appointed time

The John Francis Joseph O'Donnell [I bet he's Irish Catholic!] was sentenced as follows:

1. Ordered to pay the court a fine of £90
2. Ordered to pay the court a fine of £30'

I expect that £120 is probably quite a lot of money for this bloke, seeing as he's a scrap metal merchant ... who's so desperate for cash that he tried to nick my aluminium watering can with holes in the bottom. It must have a scrap value of about 10p!

I must just share with you the last paragraph of this letter I have from the CJS:
'I would like to thank you for your assistance as a witness in this case. Your evidence was very important in bringing this case to justice and your contribution is greatly appreciated.'

This makes me laugh so much. I didn't see anything! I didn't hear anything! I was asleep at the time! I only knew about the attempted theft because of a phone call from my neighbour who *did* actually see it happen! The crucial bit must have been that I looked out of the window after being informed of the crime and sure enough, there was a distinct lack of holey watering can in the spot that it should've been. This must have been vital information and deeply significant in the successful outcome of the prosecution. What it is to be a helpful member of society in police investigations ;oP

Oh yes, the letter also informs me that I can apply to the Criminal Injusries Compensation Scheme for the psychological injury this crime has caused me, and that if I wish I can also take 'the person responsible' to the civil courts. You know what, I think I might just not bother with that. It's not stoicism. It's not the Great British stiff upper lip. It's not that I'm too traumatised to be able to deal with such things. No, it's because it's so bloody ridiculous! ;o)

I'm still disappointed not to have to go to court though.

Onward

Phew, I've avoided being arrested ... so far. No sign of any police handcuffing me to either themselves or my bed, and no mention of being whipped off to a prison cell. My non-attendance at court as a non-witness to the practically non-crime (as it was *attempted* theft and therefore unsuccessful) appears to have been accepted as unavoidable due to my present incarceration at Freeman Hospital. I have just had a phone call from witness services though, that may explain their easy acceptance of my situation - the defendant didn't turn up to court. I'm told that a warrant has now been issued for his immediate arrest! It just gets sillier, doesn't it? The good thing about this is that it means I will still get my big day in court, and therefore will be able to give you a satisfactory outcome to this whole ridiculous affair, because the case is to be rescheduled. Hurrah! I was so intrigued by it all, and really wanted to see the magistrate try to keep a straight face throughout, that I was actually very disappointed not to be able to attend court yesterday. Given that the defendent - JFJO'D - didn't turn up it's probably a good thing that I didn't have to struggle to get there as I was actually very tired yesterday.

In other 'onward' news, I've been seen by the doctor this morning and he says that they'll review things on Monday, but most likely I'll get home early next week :o) This one's been a long haul, but then it was a very bad attack so it's no wonder it's taking time to recover. But I'm getting there, I'm making progress, and as the post titles says: Onward!

Speaking of judgements ...

... tomorrow was supposed to be my big day in court as (non)witness to the crime of the millennium. I'd been hoping to be home from hospital by now, but obviously I'm not, so my next hope was that I'd be able to have a trip out - just what everyone in hospital needs: a morning trip to the court room ;o) However, the doctors have today decided that I'm not well enough to go to court in the morning, and you know, I'm oddly disappointed. I was intrigued. I wanted to see the magistrate try to keep a straight face while they heard the evidence against the holey watering can thief, and heard me say that although I'd been called as victim and witness of the crime, I actually heard nothing or saw nothing, and knew nothing about it until I'd been alerted of the event by my neighbour. It has been pointed out to me that as 'victim' of the crime my statement/testimony may well be necessary for to proceed in court, if only to say that it was my watering can and that I didn't give anyone to enter my property or take the watering can. There is hope yet that my curiosity will be satisfied.

I was supposed to be arriving at court no later than 9:30 am, which means that I/the doctors are going to have to contact the courts as soon as they open to explain that I won't be able to be there. I'm guessing this will annoy the holey watering can thief - and possibly my neighbour A (key witness to the events) - as they're unlikely to be told of any postponement until after they've arrived. I'm sorry if I upset A, but not so sorry about annoying the holey watering can thief ... except that he obviously knows where I live ... ;o)

I hope that the courts are understanding in my inability to attend and the very short notice I/the doctors will be giving them. The original documents I received came with a form that I had to sign to say whether or not I'd be attending, but also said that if I didn't attend then I could be arrested! This whole thing is so ridiculous that somehow I wouldn't be surprised if I were to find myself being cuffed to a police officer by my hospital bed tomorrow afternoon. Unlikely it may be, but I fear it's not beyond the realms of possibility.

So the big questions are:
1. Will I be arrested for non-attendance at court as (non)witness to a crime I knew nothing about until after the event?
2. Providing I'm not arrested, will the case go ahead without me tomorrow?
3. Will the case be postponed so that I can give my non-evidence, satisfy my intrigue, and bring you a satisfactory conclusion to the whole affair?
4. Will the holey watering can thief be so annoyed at having his case postponed that he hunts me down, beats Wilfred to a pulp and makes another attempt at holey watering can theft?

So many questions, and all night to ponder them ... in the dark ... all on my own ...

;oP

Traveller returns

I'm home from my French holiday and have had a thoroughly wonderful time :o) I'll write about it over the next few posts, and today I'll tell you about my journey out there.

The flight from Newcastle left on time, the weather was fine and all looked good for an easy time to Exeter, and all did go well until we got to Exeter ... or rather, all went well until we got *over* Exeter. I had a window seat and could see the patchwork world get closer, the dingy-toy planes sitting waiting at the airport as we flew over it, the sea and the land alternating as we flew round and round in circles, and gradually it began to dawn on me that we'd been circulating the area for sometime and I was sure we'd started rising again. I thought this was a bit weird, but figured that it was better to be unexpectedly going up than unexpectedly coming down. Then the captain came on over the tannoy, with that special, calm voice that people use when trying to placate themselves and pretend that everything's okay.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he said, 'we had expected to have landed by now, but are experiencing a slight technical problem with the undercarriage. We are working to rectify this and then we'll have to do all the checks again, and get back in the flight queue. Then hopefully we can land.' That 'hopefully' was somewhat telling of the captain's feigned calm, and I could imagine him sitting in the cockpit swearing like a trooper, then composing himself and steadying his voice before speaking to his passengers.

A few panicked looks passed between one or two of the other passengers, with one of the ladies in the row in front of me asking with alarm, 'What does that mean?!' The guy next to me, who'd earlier told me that he designed/built helicopters, leant over to the woman and said, 'It means the wheels won't come down so we can't land.' This didn't calm her any.

I wasn't particularly concerned for some reason and just got on with enjoying the view, although I did eventually begin to get a bit bored of circling the same area. So we circled, and we cirlced, and we circled, and time ticked on, and on, and on, and eventually the wheels came down, and the captain came on the tannoy again saying, 'Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you'll be relived to know that we have rectified the problem with the undercarriage and we're now preparing to land ... You may even be as relieved as I am' !!!

As we were leaving the plane the man who'd been sitting beside me asked one of the cabin crew how little fuel we had left. Her reply? 'You don't want to know' !!! :oO Running out of fuel would've been one way to land, I guess, but I'm glad that we managed to avoid getting down that way.

The rest of my travel to Rennes was thankfully uneventful, although there was a lengthy delay in getting onto my connecting flight as Flybe had been going to use the same plane I'd just got off for the next flight. We had to wait while they had another plane flown down from Birmingham instead, and ya know, I'm pleased they did.

Holidays need a bit of excitement ... but maybe not too much excitement.

Day out

Monday was my friend W's birthday. For ages we'd been planning to go to the Farne Islands for the day, but checking the met office website at the weekend I saw there was a severe weather warning and I doubted the boats to the Farnes would sail. Not only that, but even if they did sail I didn't particularly want to be in a little boat on the sea in a storm and then on an exposed little island with no shelter, and neither did W. On Sunday night W and I decided to postpone the Farne Islands trip and find something else to do to celebrate W's birthday, so we both spent quite sometime online searching for an alternative. Eventually I came across Chipchase Castle in Northumberland, which I'd heard the name of before, but that was it: I didn't know anything else about it. Well it seems that although it's still a private family home, they open it up to the public for a month every year in June, and they have nice gardens to wander around too, so that's where we decided to go.

When I got up on Monday morning I was a little miffed to see that it was quite sunny outside and wondered if maybe we could've gone up to the Farnes in the end, but it was already too late for that and I was determined to give W a good day for her birthday. Before going up to Chipchase Castle we went to Cafe Bar One for lunch (the other place in Newcastle, besides Peppy's, that I can eat out), which was very pleasant, and meant that W could have some birthday cake too. So anyway, then we made our way up to the Tyne Valley and found our way to Chipchase with the help of the wonderful thing of satelite navigation - essential in this case as I really didn't have much idea at all of where the Castle was and it wasn't marked on the road map. As we drove we could see the weather closing in, and just before we arrived we saw lightning flash not far ahead, but we seemed to circumnavigate the storm itself and hadn't actually seen a drop of rain before we arrived. The storm we saw as we approached Chipchase got closer as we stood in the grounds watching the sheep, the thunder crashed menacingly, the lightning flashed frequently and there was a constant booming as the storm got nearer. It came ever so close - within a mile I think - but it did actually reach us, although we got a good view of the storm. The sheep didn't like it much though and they looked very warily in the direction of the vicious storm before gradually drifting away from it's general direction. However, they were soon confused by another storm that quickly came rolling in from the opposite direction, and then a third and a fourth from the other two of the four sides of us. The thunder exploded all around us, with fireworks of lightning flashes flickering on all sides, but amazingly we stayed dry. It was like we were in a little pocket of calm amidst the tempestuous anger. I've never experienced anything quite like it.

In the end we did get a few drops of rain starting to fall on us so we headed into the house/castle for the tour (our own private tour as we were the only people there at this point), leaving the storms outside to battle with themselves. While we were inside it did rain quite heavily, and the thunder continued to crash around the area, but the storms never actually came right up to Chipchase. The tour was quite short, but it was interesting, and I felt quite privileged to allowed into, and shown around, this family home. After the house tour we were free to look around the gardens, pele tower and chapel (set out on its own in the first sheep field) on our own. It was all very lovely. I could waffle on describing it, but instead I'll post up a number of photos so you can see for yourself.

The castle

The sheep

The pele tower exterior

The pele tower interior

The chapel exterior

The chapel interior

The gardens

Chipchase castle and gardens closes at 5pm so after a mooch around the gardens we went off to find somewhere to have a cup of coffee, landing in Corbridge, which I knew a little from when I was a child and my father had lived in nearby Hexham, but I didn't remember it very well. Although there were various coffee shops and tea rooms in the town, they looked shut up and dark, but not to be defeated we thought that we might get a much needed cuppa at the pub we'd just passed so we wandered up the street and found ourselves entering a candlelit bar. It was a bit of a weird thing to walk into, but actually quite nice too. It turned out that the storms that had surrounded us while W and I were at Chipchase had been horrendous over Corbridge and had flooded some places and wiped out the town's electricity. With no electricity we couldn't have coffee so instead W had a glass of wine and I had an alcohol free Beck's, and just as we finished and were deciding to make tracks homeward, the pub's electricity came flickering back on.

I had been very conscious that W hadn't had the birthday day out originally planned, one that she'd been greatly looking forward to for quite some time, but I hoped that she'd still had an enjoyable day despite the storms. W reassured me that she'd had a lovely day and a great time, and I certainly had. We'll go to the Farnes when I'm back from my holiday to France (I go on Saturday!), but in the meantime I'm pleased to have discovered Chipchase Castle and would recommend it as a nice day out, even in the middle of a quartet of storms.

Protection

You may remember the incident of the holey watering can. There have been developments. A week or so before I went into hospital I had a letter from Victim Support offering me counselling for the trauma caused by the attempted theft of said holey watering can! Can you imagine my turning up to see a counsellor in distress at the event of which I knew nothing until it had been brought to my attention later in the day of its happening? I think I'd either be laughed at or carted away on the grounds of being far too sensitive for my own good. Now I know that Victim Support do a marvellous job, and I'm not belittling the work they do, but really, how can it be imagined that I'd be traumatised by the attempted theft of a watering can with holes in the bottom, and an attempt that I didn't know had even taken place until a while afterwards? It beggars belief. Needless to say, I'm not taking up their offer of counselling.

Last month it was my birthday, and aware of the attempted theft of the watering can, and aware of the uselessness of the worms in the wormery beside said watering can, my friend K got me a protector for the can. Meet Wilfred:

Don't you think he's rather fine? I have to say that I never, ever thought I'd be in possession of a garden gnome (or a guarding gnome ;oP ), but look, Wilfred even has his own little watering can! He clearly cares about the destiny of such things and would hate to see one come to a bad end, so here he is guarding the holey watering can that has caused such a stir:

Marvellous!

Now it's good to know that the police are protecting us from the villains of the world, but it has seemed rather surreal that a significant amount of police time has been spent on the search for the watering can thief. I know that the real issue isn't the can, but the fact that the 'leader of the operation' coerced a minor into the illegal activities of trespass and theft/attempted theft ... and that is why police time has been taken up on this matter, but still, if you look at the smaller picture - that of the watering can - it seems very trivial. So anyway, when I came out of hospital I had a message on my answer machine from PC May, the enthusiastic trainee police officer who had been investigating my traumatic experience. He didn't say much in the message, but sounded quite excited. A day or so after I picked up the message I had another phone call from him asking if I'd heard of developments in the case, which of course I hadn't as I'd been otherwise engaged in relearning the art of breathing. Oh, he was excited! PC May went on to inform me that the man they had initially tracked down as responsible for the crime had given false details and gone missing, and it turned out that he'd been living not at the address that he'd given the police, but in various hostels. After a couple of weeks of having disappeared though, the man had walked into a police station and handed himself in - a villain with a conscience! Only not enough conscience to admit to the coersion of a minor as he then proceeded to insist that he had nothing to do with the child, had no responsibility for him, and certainly hadn't led him into a life of crime. Only then he crumbled and admitted he was guilty. And the consequence of this? The case of the attempted theft of the holey watering can is going to court!!!!! Oh my! I am going to feel so incredibly foolish if I have to stand up in court as a witness (which I'm assured by the police, without having asked, will be under the witness protection programme and I can give evidence via video-link if I want!). 'Yes, Your Honour, I am victim to the crime of the attempted theft of a holey watering can that I once grew rosemary in, hence the holes. No, Your Honour, I didn't see anything ... or hear anything, because I was tucked up in bed and fast asleep at the time, having taken a sleeping tablet the night before. I do have a box of worms, which my father gave me for Christmas, next to where said holey watering can was taken from, but they have not been forthcoming with information regarding events of the morning, nor with giving a description of the villain. Your Honour, there is no need to look distressed at the uselessness of the worms' observation skills as I now have a fine protector in Wilfred,' at which point I could hold up a photo of Wilfred. I could, of course take the real thing, but that would mean leaving the watering can unprotected so it's probably best that I just take a photo.

PC May was so excited at the prospect of this going to court. Aren't you glad that your taxes are being spent on the protection of my watering can? I can hear your cheers of support from here. How about giving Wilfred a cheer too? I'm sure he'd appreciate acknowledgement for the fine job he's now doing. After all, so far as I know, no crook has tried to steal the holey watering can since Wilfred took over its protection.

Oddities

Sometimes there are just a few too many odd occurrences for one person to keep to themselves. The first was more unusual than truly odd, but noteworthy all the same. I live not too far away from the main train line between Newcastle and Edinburgh, and although I don't hear the trains everyday, I do sometimes hear them hoot their horn. On Monday I had the back door open, and was standing at the kitchen sink doing the washing up when I heard a train hoot its horn as it passed nearby ... except that it wasn't a horn being hooted; it was a whistle being whooted - a steam train.

Later that day I went for a trundle in Taz to make the most of the sunshine. While I was out I saw a couple of people walking two very small dogs, that turned out not to be dogs at all. Nope, what I was seeing was a couple of people taking two ferrets for a walk. Of course I've heard of this before, but it's not something I've ever seen and it was a little surprising, although smilesome :o)

You may have missed this news story yesterday, but it is truly odd. It is the story of a Russian man who went to see the doctor because he had a bad cough, was coughing up blood and had chest pain. An x-ray showed a shadow on his lung and he underwent immediate surgery to remove the tumour. However, the tumour turned out not to be what anyone was expecting, but rather a 5cm fir tree growing in the man's lung! It's thought that maybe he'd breathed in a seed while walking in the woods, and had somehow found conditions good enough for germination. Ya know, this is one thing that my asthma consultant hasn't considered as the possible cause of all my problems, so maybe next time I'm at clinic I should ask to have my lungs checked for rogue fir trees.

Several years ago I had a friend, C, who I came to realise was actually detrimental to my mental health. I won't go into details, other than to say that at the time I was very depressed, C had her own mental health problems, and she was the kind of person who needed to be needy and needed to be needed. It took a lot for me to end this 'friendship', but I knew that it was what I needed to do, and after doing so I felt huge relief. For some strange reason, on Monday I found myself thinking about C about that time of my life. Even weirder was that on Tuesday I had a phone call from C. She said she was phoning to ask about a chair she'd bought off me after my business had closed, and she then went into some long and protracted explanation of how this chair had now broken and how she was 'in consultation' with Ikea, where the chair had originally come from. It was all rather boring, to be honest, and yet (and as ever) she tried to make it sound like it was the most disastrous thing to happen in all the world, and what terrible repercussions the event had ... which as far as I could tell were that she had a broken chair and a sore bum. It was a very odd phone call, but really I think it was an excuse for C to get back in touch with me. It's not going to happen. Thinking about C fills me with a depressed frustration and I know that she's still no good for me. We were both ill when we met, and the one thing that she couldn't cope with was me getting better from depression - she wanted me to be ill. During the strange call from her on Tuesday it became evident that she's still ill; apparently hasn't made any progress; and she sounded hugely disappointed when I said that although my lungs are rubbish my mental health is great. I don't need that. I don't want that. She was odd then. She's still odd. The phone call was odd. The fact that I'd found myself thinking about C the day before the call was odd.

Some odd things are good, others are just ... odd.

Exhibit A

Exhibit A is ...

... A watering can with holes punched in the bottom from when I used to grow rosemary in it.

This item was the cause of an extremely surreal day on Saturday.

After taking a sleeping tablet on Friday night I was woken at 10am on Saturday by one of my neighbours, who lives opposite the back of my house, leaving a message on my answer phone. In my sleepy state I wasn't all together sure that I'd heard her correctly at first so went through into the living room to listen to the message again. She said that earlier that morning she'd seen some scrap metal people send a young child (about 7 years old) into my back yard through the gap where there's a slat missing from the fence. The child's mission was to steal my metal watering can - Exhibit A. My neighbour had dashed out of the back of her flat, confronted the scrap merchants, retrieved the watering can, taken down the truck registration number and informed the police of what had happened. She now had Exhibit A in her possession. I went back through to the bedroom, looked out of the window, and sure enough there was a space where the watering can had been next to the wormery.

The rest of Saturday continued in a normal Saturday kind of way ... for a couple of hours ... and then the police phoned me. Could they come round and take a statement from me? Er, yes, I suppose so, but I didn't see anything or hear anything. They came - a young WPC and a student PC - and were here for at least an hour. They were ever so interested in the fact that in the past I've seen some scrap metal collectors (most likely the same ones) standing on the flatbed of their truck, looking over people's walls as they drove up the lane, and then climbing over when they saw something of interest. Unfortunately I'd never taken the truck registration number down, but the police officers said that if I see it again then I should do so and immediately phone 999.

So when the police came to my flat we spent a bit of time going through what my neighbour had said had happened, and that the police had quickly found and stopped the truck, but as yet were unable to take things further. I wondered what 'taking things further' might mean in the context of the potential theft of a holey watering can, but didn't ask at that time. After that the student went out to the car to get the statement papers and the WPC explained that she would pretty much dictate the statement to the student, as there are certain things they need to include in it, but that I should interject if anything was incorrect. Well what could I say? I didn't see anything. I didn't hear anything. I was out for the count when the crime was committed. That was pretty much all I could say, although I did also have to say that I hadn't given the scrap people or the child permission to come into my yard, and that nobody has the right to go into my back yard or take anything from the yard without either my permission or that of my upstairs neighbours who share the yard. Apparently it's not classed as burglary, because that has to entail breaking into a building, but it's some other crime I can't remember the name of ... not trespassing, but something along those lines. The other issue is the use of a child under the age of responsibility to 'commit the crime'. However, despite all that it seemed a bit over the top when the WPC told me that it could go to court and I'd be called as a witness!

Can you imagine? I might have to stand up in court and say, 'Well, your honour, I saw nothing; I heard nothing; and I knew nothing about the attempted theft of my holey watering can until I was informed of it by my neighbour.' How foolish am I going to feel! I know it's the principle of the thing, the immoral use of a child (which the police are going to inform social services about), and the fact that this is probably the tip of something much bigger (in fact the police weren't even sure that the scrap metal collectors were registered merchants, so they might also be breaking the law with that too), but really, going to court over a non-functional watering can??? I was reassured that because of my disabilities then I'd be treated as 'a vulnerable witness' and if necessary could give my evidence from a seperate room by video-link. For a watering can?!

I'll keep you posted on any developments, and let you know if I'm going to have to don my best court clothes ... not that I have any clothes specifically for court seeing as I've never had to appear in court before ...

... All very surreal.

By the way, just in case you're wondering, I've got the watering can back now. I met my neighbour in the back lane yesterday afternoon for a clandestine reacquainting with Exhibit A, which is now being guarded once again by the worms ... not that they did a very good job of it last time.