Some thoughts on suicide

I used to think that suicide was the coward's way of dealing with life. We all face problems through our lives, and must of us have to deal with them, or cope with the consequences of the problems, or of our wrong handling of them. Suicide is the ultimate method of ignoring a problem by walking away from it. Unfortunately, it leaves everyone else to deal with your mess, while adding to their misery by having to come to terms with your own ultimate cowardice. I have been fortunate in life, for I don't get chronically depressed and don't usually have thoughts of my own suicide. Recently though, when my skin is particularly bad and I'm pacing the floor at three in the morning desperately trying not to scratch, yet knowing  the bed is going to have to be changed from pillow to bottom sheet yet again, I do see that with death the terrible itching will ease. At these times, I suddenly realise that, in fact, perhaps to commit suicide is also an act of bravery, daring to take on the power of the life force and confront the reality of eternal silence. Certainly, I have not come near to the brink of actually attempting the act, and I hope my health does not deteriorate to the point where I consider it as an option.

On a lighter note, today we drove into Cambridge, nominally to find a summer top for Ann. But so many shops in the Grafton Centre are now closed, and the few remaining offer such poor choices, it must be back to the drawing board. In an attempt to try an alternative to shoddy shops, we have treated ourselves to a Singer sewing machine. Ann will buy some material and patterns, and I will attempt to assemble them into a passible blouse. At the very least, perhaps it will give me some distraction if I am pacing the floor again in the night. We will keep you posted.

Lunch at the Cambridge Arms

A weekend in pictures

 

Walking with Ben; Sunday lunch with all

We had a wonderful weekend with Ben and Kaz's visit. We talked and laughed late into the night, helped by several brandies. Next day, he and I walked the dogs on the hills behind Clare, before he cut the lawns for us, front back and side! Then in the afternoon Edwin and Andre invited them to see their new house where we enjoyed Edwin's home-made coffee cake on their sunlit patio before we all retired to the Angel Hotel for a fine Sunday lunch. 

Walking with Bronte and Byron

They even brought us gifts of a bottle of Prosecco and fresh scones which we later enjoyed with traditional cream and jam. Thank you both for an enjoyable visit.

Looking forward to afternoon tea

Celebrating a remission

The consultant oncologist phoned this week to check on my progress, and to confirm that my scan showed no new opacities, and the blood tests indicated that the renal failure and anaemia were stable. I am in a period of remission, and must enjoy the health I have. She is increasing the time to the next scan to four months, as a measure of confidence. To celebrate, we went to a restaurant in Long Melford, previously a smart affair with Cordon Bleu service and cuisine. Unfortunately, the chef's reputation led him to move on, and their new chef is Cordon Noir. It was a mediocre menu but with their original pricing, so I ended up with expensive fish-and-chips, and Ann had one of their limited vegetarian dishes that was too spicy for her to finish. We will stick to take-away Indian next time.

Yesterday, we continued the great clothes hunt for some summer tops for Ann by visiting Freeport Outlet Centre. The place has many big-name brands such as Ralph Lauren, Adidas, Armani etc. Ann managed to find some long-sleeved T-shirts for me so I can keep my spotty arms covered without having to wear heavy jerseys, but nothing for herself. Being outlet shops, she thought they must just be selling off their winter things, while keeping summer wear in their main shops. So it's back to Amazon shopping. 

On a personal note, Ben and Kaz are coming to stay over tomorrow, and Lucy was due to visit next month. Unfortunately, she ran into a deer and badly damaged her car (not to mention the deer), so now her visit is uncertain. We have not been up to the journey north since before my operation in October last year, but I think we may have to make the effort to see everyone there before much longer.

Black headed gull at Maldon

Russia's malevolance reaches Hundon

The Ukranian conflict has come to Hundon. I had a routine blood test this morning, but was delayed by a message from my bank querying one of our recent transactions. I thought it might be a scam, but they listed four items I recognised alongside the rogue one, so I phoned their security line. It seems an amount for £19.99 had been blocked by the bank. It was with a digital games company based in Russia, so they are also blocking my compromised card and sending a new one. 

I have finally emerged from two years of indolence, induced partly by Covid lockdowns and partly by increasing laziness, and I have tackled some redecoration. Not much, admittedly, but yes - I have painted the banister rail. Not the whole banister, for I don't want to set too high a precedence - but the top rail. I used a high quality paint I bought many years ago, Dulux One-coat Magicoat. It certainly has given a beautiful, smooth, brilliant white gloss, but quick drying it is not. Even three days later, it remains slightly tacky to touch. But it does look good, and gives me boasting rights.

Having enjoyed the Eurovision song contest, we yesterday visited Essex in the footsteps of Sam Ryder, who came from Maldon and ran a small vegan cafe in Coggeshall. Coggeshall is an attractive town with many old houses. It warents a large entry in Wikipedia, in contrast to Hundon which scores three dull lines. We then drove on to Tollesbury, an amazing complex of inlets and waterways coming off the Blackwater estuary. I had heard of it from our sailing days, but had never been there until inspired by a new Apple TV film series, The Essex Serpent, which is set and filmed there. The dogs enjoyed some great walks along a very short section of the Saltmarsh Coastal Path.

Maldon is the home of the Thames barge. We used to see them regularly, sailing the Orwell and Stour, when we had our boat. Now, we are tempted to go on one of the Thames barge cruises, so perhaps we will return here later in the year.

The Bell Hotel, once a smart coaching inn, has now become a refuge for rogues. It was there that one man with a grievance came with an axe to attack someone else. He is now under arrest for attempted murder, and the victim remains critically ill. They have a number of pictures up as part of the decor, but they have been vandalised with rude messages. In contrast, in the Swan, we met up with our friends Rae, Malcolm, Yvonne and Robin for a peaceful meal.  Yvonne saw the portrait I had painted of Nick, the landlord, and Nick told her everyone had to salute when they passed it! Let us hope no one feels so aggrieved with the service that they post bad reviews over my picture.

The annoyance of other people

A younger Jane

This has been a week of annoyances at the hands of other people. On Ann's hairdressing day, we have a routine whereby I walk the dogs then meet up complement her in the Swan for lunch. Last week, the hair appointment was late so we ate first. It was a cool day, 11 degrees C, and overcast, but when I went back to the car to walk the animals, some interfering slob from Clare had scrawled a note on an old paper bag saying, "Hot cars kill dogs. Don't do it". Then yesterday, driving to the vets to get the guinea pig's nails cut, I passed a driver on a tight backroad. I was on the edge of the ditch, but he was too cautious to move closer to the ditch on his side and our wing mirrors brushed. No harm done, but the idiot turned round and followed me, flashing his lights, then got out and accused me of not pulling over far enough! As if life isn't vexatious enough without total self-indulgent fools adding to the annoyances of the world.

Edwin and Andre are off today for a weekend of fun in Amsterdam. They invited us round for a wonderful buffet supper this week to chat before they left. They have a fine walled patio at the rear of the house, completely secluded and peaceful with swallows flying low above us, where we had drinks and biscuits before going in. They are always so full of fun and life, and it is good to remember there is more in the world than the discomforts of the Damoclean sword of terminal cancer.

Seeing the finished picture of her late niece, Michelle, Ann suggested that I do a portrait of her sister, Jane. I selected an old photo, remembering Jane as I first met her, and this is now finished. I continue to work on the portrait of Jane's other daughter, Kate.

 

 

A new wedding ring

A new ring and a new haircut

This week, we made a trip to London to meet Ann's friend Sylvia. I am still reluctant to go too far in the city, so we drove to Stratford and stayed in a local hotel. I booked in while Ann chatted over coffee then, having a couple of hours free, I decided to get a haircut. The nearest to the hotel was called Blue Tit, an odd name but apparently a bird favoured by the owner. I got an early appointment and was dealt with by Roland, a very slim gentleman from Latvia who did a competent short back and sides. His fees, however, where somewhat north of the fee I usually pay in Clare, and infinitely more than my usual hairdresser - Ann - charges. At least I looked neat for the photos when later I met Ann and Sylvia for a meal.

My new hairdresser

Dickens' writing chalet

When we first married, Ann and I were broke. Although we were both earning, Ann had been supporting a daughter as a single parent, and I had to support five children and an ex. My dad gave us a little money towards the wedding, from which Ann bought a hat in Coventry, and she chose a very thin Samuels ring with her sister in York. Now, nearly thirty years later, we decided on a romantic whim to renew our pledge to each other and celebrate with a more solid gold band. By coincidence, I had noted a Beaverbrooks on my way through the centre, and the lady there, Gina, could not have been more helpful and welcoming, delighting in our romantic story. She found the ideal ring and declared it a miracle, as normally lady's rings only went up to size R, but this was an isolated larger ring, just made for Ann's finger. Gena sat us in the wedding alcove, and brought out champagne to celebrate, taking a picture for the record. She then insisted on  gift wrapping the ring as she would for any newlyweds. We rounded off the day in the cocktail bar of the hotel.

Candles of hope

Next day, we drove to Rochester for a spontaneous day out. Ann has been a few times, but I only twice despite living in Kent, so the city all seemed new to me with its ancient, cobbled streets and wonderful old houses with their Dickens connection. In the cathedral, we lit candles, then visited Dickens' writing-chalet, sent apparently as a flatpack by an admirer in France for Dickens to assemble. It is too fragile now for the public to enter, but they are in the process of renovating it. I tire and become breathless quickly, and the numbness in my fingers prevents me from typing fast. I am even reduced to tying my shoelaces like a child, having to watch where each loop goes, but we were invigorated to enjoy the freedom of new places, and are determined to get out and see more while we can.

Walking with the dogs through the woods today, I thought it not too late in life to try and learn a little of the many wildflowers blooming in the May sun. This one is a pretty little blue thing, apparently called Alkanet: not a name that trips off the tongue. It doesn't seem to have much human use, but is a good pollinator, attracting bees and other insects, so is clearly valuable to nature where it belongs and thrives.

Alkanet - a bright blue hedgerow plant

A visit by Matthew

Sunday lunch with Matthew and children

With two loud dogs, we are reluctant to invite young children to stay overnight as, although showing no sign of aggression to children, a vet once warned us ntall,ever to trust any dog with a child. Byron even gets jealous if I cuddle Ann, barking and poking his nose between us to separate us. Bronte gets jealous of Byron, growling and nipping him if he lets Mary-Anne make a fuss of him. So when Mathew and Rosie visited with our new grandson, Nye, and their daughter Arwen, they stayed at a Premier Inn. 

Arwen is a little cherub, with flaming red hair and a beautiful character. From a shy crying baby she has suddenly emerged as an inquisitive toddler, into everything she can reach, and happy to come to her grandad. I am glad they made the effort to travel down, for I still get tired and would not look forward to a long journey north. My scan result came back this week, and shows some fluid on the lungs that the radiologist recommended for further follow up. That might explain my breathlessness, but at least there were no recurrent secondaries there, and my brain was reported as "normal for age". 

David dressed

Mary-Anne came round this afternoon with the two girls, both growing into very bright young ladies. They suddenly said to Ann, "Granny, you don't clean your fridge magnets very often, do you?" 

"What makes you say that?" said Granny.

"Because six months ago, we covered your model of David with a tissue over his middle to make him respectable, and it's still there!"