A rediscovery of driving pleasure

Ann's new car is a dream; it rolls along silently in battery mode, while cutting in seamlessly to recharge as needed. Although no larger than the Polo, it is roomy with plenty of head height, and more features than anyone has a right to. I am wading through the manual, but probably will not fully master it before it finally gets sold on again. I particularly love the regenerative breaking; the realisation that slowing down recharges the battery rather than heating the atmosphere is very satisfying. Also, we are getting nearly 60 m.p.g. even with just local stop-start driving, so we are looking forward to taking it on longer journeys, perhaps north to visit the family once Ann has had her next cardioversion.

For her birthday last month, the boys had given Ann a Lego set to build her own orchid. We are pleased to tell them it has finally been completed, and has a place of honour on the piano.

In the north, news that Rosie was admitted to hospital with acute appendicitis. By the time they took it out, the tip was gangrenous and she was lucky it hadn't ruptured with a full peritonitis. Happily, she is back home and recovering.

Alan, Ann and J in the Swan

Ann's cousin, Alan, came to visit this week on his break from his Portugal house move. He regaled us with tales of the many fraught problems entailed by property law in Portugal. Neither Ann nor I relish interminable legal tangles these days, so we agree that a move abroad is not on the cards, even given the tax advantages and better climate - but even that is debatable with the brutal heat wave inflicting southern Europe this summer. Here in Britain it remains cold and wet, but at least we can simply don an extra jersey, and there is less chance of wild fires spreading across the fields to engulf the house! 

Congratulations to Edwin who continues with his Taekwondo, and got his first belt last night. We remember how good he was at Karati when he was younger, so I'm pleased he has found this sport to excel in. 

Car-hunt capers

 We always called the county, "Bent Kent" because of the many strange, inexplicable happenings we witnessed, such as vans parking on the far edge of Tesco's carpark and a dozen disorientated people emerging, or the vans parked on a layby back to back with their backs open for the transfer of strange objects, or the house opposite ours being raided by the police at 3:00 a.m. on several occasions for drug running, or the helicopter that landed on the lawn of Miriam Margolyes' holiday home after we'd rented it for a week as part of a drug-running scam. On Sunday we motored down for a short break there, and sure enough it lived up to its name. We stayed in the Churchill Hotel on the seafront, with a balcony view across the harbour. Ann sat at the window watching the world go by, and suddenly she was spell-bound by a strange tableau being enacted on the beach. A group of Pakistani or Indian people were gathered behind some rocks, mostly out of sight, but including some women in saris. All carried bags or cases, and they waited there for some while as it grew dark. A car then came crawling along, passed the group, and then reversed to line up with a gap in the wall. One man got out and came back carrying a large box, then went back to the group and took individual flash photographs of them all before they followed him to the car and were driven away. We still wonder what they were doing there.

Morelli's Ice-cream - a sharing dish

Our stay in Kent was enjoyed in some of our favourite spots, including Morelli's Ice-cream parlour in Broadstairs, Margate pier head pub, and Herne Bay front. 

Apart from this diversion, our time was well used as Ann continued her car hunt in Canterbury. We came round to considering the possiblity of a Renault and saw two possible ones. It seems a good car, ticking many of our boxes, so Ann continued the search yesterday when we got back. Today we went to another garage at Sawston and saw the ideal compromise car - a Renault Clio - put down a deposit, and suddenly Ann has a car again! Vindis Motors were very fair, even agreeing to replace a scatched rear windscreen, and the car - a hybrid - drives like an ideal motor. Vindis himself was an interesting Chech guy who came over in the war, flew Spitfires with the RAF at Duxford, and ended up as a flight leutenant before using his discharge money to open his first second hand car dealership. They still have his gold-plated Rolls Royce in the showroom. Definitely worth our trip, and earning a toast to happy motoring at the Globe on our way home.

Ann has a new car!

A week of many incidents

 Ann has a new passport. It didn't expire until January of next year, but we'd heard such dire stories of delays that she sent for it early. Miraculously, it only took five days, and the online application was smooth and easy. The only real difficulty was the photograph - their site allows us to upload a photo and reports its quality as a meter reading. My several attempts kept going into the red scale and failing, but finally we got one that just scraped into the amber as "acceptable" and posted the application. We then got a message to say even this photo was rejected! And advising us to go to a proper photo-booth, or a professional. We therefore went to a photo-booth in the post office, but the result was so lamentable we didn't even try to send it. Finally, we went to a more expensive booth in Tesco which communicated directly with the passport office, so we didn't even need to scan the photo to get it to them and, at last, it was in their green band and the passport came through a couple of days later.

On Monday, Ann went into Addenbrookes for her cardioversion. Under heavy sedation, she felt no more than dull blows to her chest as they blasted her with 300+ volts of electric shock. As she recovered, she felt her heart still banging away erratically and, looking at the cardiologist, she said, "it didn't work, did it?" He ruefully agreed, before saying he would like to try cardioversion again in six weeks after starting her on a new, stronger medication with numerous potential side-effects. Ann's heart rate has varied betwen a high of 180+b.p.m. and a low of 35 b.p.m. Luckily, she is still allowed an occasional wine - in moderation - which eases the pain of two great, red burn marks on her back and chest. 

Tuesday took us to the vets for Brontë, who has been "leaking" slightly for a little while.  Ann cut off all her bum-hair to stop it being soaked and Edwin found some doggie nappies on-line, which we sent for. They certainly work and she seems to wear them with a certain swank, as though she has something special which Byron doesn't. The vet couldn't find anything specific, but suggested she may be hormone-deficient, so now we have to add HRT to her food each day.

Last week, too, I had my now annual cystoscopy to check for any recurrence of my bladder cancer. The girls doing it commented, "it's a long way up!" which I suppose to be a generous comment, but it reminded me of the nurses at St Thomas' Hospital when I was a student. They kept a notebook in which they recorded penile lengths of anaesthetised patients, to see who would get the week's record. Happily, though, they also declared that there was no sign of a recurrence, and want to see me again in a year. Sometimes, my body feels like a racetrack between two cancers. At the moment, melanoma is definitely winning while bladder seems to have stalled on the starting grid.

Ann is on the lookout for a new car. We went into Suffolk Trade Centre to see what they had in and Ann got a quote for her car. To my surprise, and, I suspect, to Ann's also, she spontaneously accepted their offer before she found a new car, so suddenly we're down to one vehicle. Now, every day is spent looking on-line or visiting showrooms. Unfortunately, there is a dearth of used cars; after twenty years of being our go-to, even Suffolk Trade has an almost deserted forecourt, and is being put up for sale. We continue the search.