A trip to Birmingham

A feast of ripe, sweet blackberries

It seems a while since I posted a blog, a while filled with activity, including a Sunday morning in the woods behind Clare gathering blackberries. They are so plump and prolific in the warm sun, I quickly filled a punnet from just two bushes.

Oh yes, we've also had a change in Prime Minister since I last wrote. As with Brexit, the powers that be seem intent on running another project fear. With all the gloomy news about forthcoming heating costs, we've decided to hunker down for the winter. To this end, we moved the spare bed in Ann's special room up to our bedroom for Ann to use, and I now have Ann's old bed. My old bed was Edwin's bunk bed from when he was a toddler, which I had cut down from its base and was now very old, so I have dismantled it and we took it and the spare old mattress to the tip.

We spent another two days shopping for new chairs, a table and a small television for the corner. The chairs arrived today, and with their presence the room is complete. We may be able to turn off most of the radiators in the house, just leaving the one small radiator for the central room. We never had the radiators on in the bedroom anyway, just extra blankets as needed.

On Asha's red carpet

Last week, Andre had a conference in Birmingham where he was manning a stand for his company. The Automotive Electronics Systems Innovation Network Conference (the title alone suggests serious intent here) was held at The National Conference Centre in Solihull, for companies that make electronic gizmos for the motor trade: companies such as Bosch, and Siemens, and naturally Cadence was prominent among them. Modern cars rely on electronics not just for their power control and automated driving, but for the new electronic cockpits that have replaced traditional dials and knobs. In the words of their blurb, "Cars are becoming computers on wheels with more processing power than the average personal computer", and Cadence are at the forefront of bespoke chip design and programming. In consequence, he and Edwin invited us to go with them to Birmingham where we stayed in the Rotunda. Edwin took Ann round their favourite haunts while I relaxed over a Terry Pratchett book. The first night, Andre treated us to a meal in Birmingham's most celebrated Indian restaurant, Asha's. They even have a roped off red carpet area for their visiting celebrities, so naturally we stood there and got some other guest to snap us.

We enjoy cocktails in Asha's

We moved on to The Alchemist for post-prandial cocktails, then next evening we ate at a lively Cuban restaurant, with live music. One of the guests was dancing wildly to the beat, so naturally Andre, ever cheerful and outgoing, joined in. This brought the woman and her friend to our table, where we all introduced themselves before dancing lady gave me a big hug and began telling me something of her life. As I understood it, she worked by organising maintenance engineers for commercial sites that had drinking water available; her friend apparently was "an influencer", with some promotional blog. I guess she must have a few more readers than I get for my blog - I could never sell anything with my writing. That was the second unexpected hug I had that day. Earlier, while waiting outside Selfridges for Ann, a lady had come up to me saying, "Dr Marr - I was your receptionist at Clare". She had left some years ago, and now worked in the shopping centre in Birmingham Bullring. Before moving on, she threw her arm round me and said how lovely to meet again. I didn't remember her specifically, but I enjoyed the hug. Women can still get away with this, but as a man I am very reluctant to hug any strange female these days.

On the way home, we stopped at Huntingdon for Edwin to collect his new car. He had already sold his old one on WeBuyAnyCar and had used the money to pay for the new one, so the transition was quite swift. A couple of days later, I had an urgent call from Edwin to rescue him from a garden centre. He and Andre had bought a large parasol for their patio table, too big to fit in Edwin's new little Polo. We lowered the rear seats and slid it into my car where it still overhung the front seat. They also had a dozen large boulders to weigh it down. Edwin refused point blank to take a single one of them in his car; he never allows even food or a takeaway meal to travel in it, so they too had to be loaded into my car, filling the front footwell and surrounding poor Byron in the boot. The car drove like a pig with the added weight, struggling on hills and grossly over-steering on bends, but eventually I got to Bury. The boys unloaded and Edwin brought out his portable vacuum cleaner to tidy the mess from the dirty rocks. Today, I even received a bottle of whisky as a thank you.

We survive a kitchen fire

With just two of us at home now, we often use only half a pan of food, freezing the rest to make a ready meal another day. On Monday, Ann chose to reheat some frozen stir fry she had made a week or two previously, and thought to add some noodles for extra filling. She put the noodles in the microwave,  but forgot to add any water and they burst into flames. Ann pulled them out, and dropped them in the black rubbish sack, where they continued to burn. Next moment, I heard a voice down the hall, "John, there's a fire!" I came out to find Ann standing in the hall, black sack in hand with a melted hole either side, with old food coming out, and pouring smoke. I grabbed the sack and took it into the yard where, ban or not, I turned the hose on it but it took some time to dampen down before I felt it safe enough to drop in the bin, still steaming from the heat. We opened the windows and turned the extractor fan on, but it took two days before the smell began to disappear from the rooms.

On Tuesday we went to Bury. A while back, I had seen the optician who made an appointment for my cataract to be done in Thetford. Unfortunately he sent it to WSH in Bury for processing, but they had contacted me to say they couldn't forward it, and it would need to be resent. Because my new injections can cause serious eye problems, the dermatologists have refered me to the WSH for an ophthalmic assessment, so it made sense to also transfer the cataract booking back to WSH. The trip to Vision Express went smoothly and they quickly agreed to resend the letter. I then went to the art shop to buy some supplies, but nearly ended up with a haircut. The shop had been sold and turned into a barber's since I last went; they have moved their entire stock next door to the framing shop.

We let Edwin know we were in town, so he and Andre walked across to meet us, initially for a drink but it turned into a full meal at a smart new restaurant called the Gastrono-Me. Edwin is thinking of updating his car, so pulled Ann in as his car-buddy to go to Huntingdon with him today to test drive it.

 STOP PRESS: He and Ann returned with a new car to collect. It is a demo car, but won't be available until garage receive their new demo car, so we will try to collect it next week on the way back from Birmingham.

Ann in the wars - again

Ann injured again

What started as a week of hope for me with my new injections for the dermatitis turned into a week of pain for Ann, when she tripped over in the kitchen and fell full-length onto her nose. The quantity of blood was like a slaughterhouse, with puddles running down the hall and up the walls. I settled Ann as best we could on a chair, with copious tissues to catch the bloody downpour, and texted MA then Edwin who said "We're coming over!"

We stemmed the blood flow from the nose eventually, though a nasty cut over the nose continued to bleed for some time. Ann took some sips of water, and I mopped up much of the blood and washed down the walls. When the boys arrived, we managed to half-carry Ann onto the settee with a pile of cushions propping her up. We dressed the cut, though it was some time in stopping bleeding, mainly because of the anticoagulants and the rapid swelling of the nose, the pain from which prevented more than a light dressing. We gave her a sweet cup of tea and a brandy - the first alcohol she has taken since going onto her new tablets over three weeks ago - and co-codamol to ease the pain. The nose is terribly swollen, yet squashed, and already the signs are appearing for two real shiners. I eventually took Ann up to bed, leaving the boys to finish clearing the mess. She did not sleep well, partly from the pain but also because of a urine infection she's developed, with blood in the urine, for which she's taking antibiotics. 

The dreaded rash on my arms

Altogether, Ann is having a succession of bad weeks although there have been some good spots. The first injections for my skin arrived by courier for storage in the fridge. They are extremely expensive and only prescribed as a last resort, so if they don't work there is nothing else. I had to self-administer two the first time, and one every fortnight thereafter, but they are easy to use. The syringe is pressed against my abdomen, I press the trigger, and a yellow flag slowly covers a window as the viscous fluid flows in. That was on Tuesday, but sadly no benefit yet, although I may be a little impatient. 

Yesterday we met Rae and Malcolm and Robin and Yvonne for lunch at the Cock, a newly opened restaurant in Clare. At the end of the month, we have two nights booked to visit Birmingham, which we always enjoy. Hopefully Ann's good looks will be restored by then, and she will not look like the loser in a prize boxing match.

 

Catchup time

 Autumn has come early to Hundon foretelling a long harsh winter,. Already, in early August, blackberries hang heavy on the brambles, darkest black and thick with juice, not sour or acidic but sugary sweet in the hot prolonged sunshine. Underfoot crunch the fallen leaves,  deep gold and brown and crisp as burn toast. The trees still wear a green mantle, but look closely and the edges of the leaves are turning yellow. The ground is hard as concrete, fizzured and dry beneath the tawny grass. This long, dry summer and the early autumnal changes presage a cruel winter, forecast to be harsher by a looming fuel shortage and massivley increasing bills. 

Our friends Rae and Malcolm came for coffee this week. They have recently returned from a holiday abroad, staying with two friends of theirs in France, another Ann and John. At least, it was meant to be a holiday but didn't turn out as planned. The plane from Stansted was on schedule and loaded quickly, while passage through the airport in France was smooth and swift. But the day before their arrival, Ann had fallen badly and fractured her femur, and was having to attend hospital. John was driving over to see her, but they could not go with him. Eventually she was brought back by ambulance as they could not get in the car because it wouldn't take her wheelchair. This meant that for the whole holiday, they could not leave the house, lacking a car of their own. The house lacked air-conditioning, yet the shutters were closed to keep out the sun, so the house was roasting. They could not even sit in the garden or take restful strolls due to the burning 40+C heat. To crown it all, Malcolm slipped in the shower and was badly bruised. He's just lucky he didn't break a leg as well.

Our Ann is improving slowly, but still gets breathless. She saw the cardiologist on Monday, but a young man rather than the consultant, who told her she had fluid on the diaphragm and would need a diuretic. Unfortunately, our GP refuses to give her a prescription until he hears from the hospital, but the hospital still haven't written to him, so Ann remains untreated.

Ann needs to sleep well to help heal her damaged heart, but I continue to be restless at night, getting up every hour or two to go to the toilet, or put creams on to ease the itching, or to pace the floors to relieve cramp. The dermatologist has offered me a new treatment: self-administered injections once every fortnight. They are expensive, and semi-experimental as few people have received this treatment yet, but they do give hope that things might improve. Surprisingly, Ann gets disturbed by my nocturnal wandering rather than sleeping soundly, so has opted to sleep downstairs. At least she gets some unbroken sleep now.

Tomorrow, Ann's sister Jane is coming to visit, with her son yet another John, who has always been known as Little John, as he was the youngest in the family. Their car is too unreliable for the journey, so they are hiring one. Ann has been busy all day baking cakes, making a trifle and preparing for their coming, but they will not stay the night, being determined to do the whole trip in a single day.

Ann, with sister Jane and nephew John

A Dire Week

 For several days I had been getting night sweats, and my temperature spiked to 39+C. Finally I phoned the GP and was surprised to be given an appointment the same morning. He diagnosed a chest infection and started antibiotics, which seemed to do the trick. But then, for a few days, Ann was ill with a fast pulse reaching 150+, and a feeling of pressure on her chest with breathlessness. At first she thought it was heat exhaustion from the unseasonably hot weather we had had (it reached 40C on one day - a UK record). But as it went on, she too phoned the GP on the Monday after I'd seen him.

Ann, 24 hours in a chair 

We really cannot fault Dr Bone. He ordered Ann straight down to the surgery, listened to her heart, and sent her up to see nurse for an ECG which he reviewed with her as soon as it was ready. He looked serious and said she would have to go to hospital at once, through the A&E department as an urgent assessment. He even phoned the hospital to prepare them to take her through as quickly as possible. But at the hospital things happened less smoothly. I was not allowed in due to persistent Covid restrictions, so left her at the door, going on to wait at Edwin's for further news. It was six hours before Ann was finally seen for a blood test and repeat ECG. The A&E department was overwhelmed with patients, many standing waiting, others sitting on the floor for want of chairs. They could not find even a trolly bed for Ann, but when I finally visited late at night she was in a tiny curtained-off bay next to resuscitation, still in a chair like a dentist's chair, but old and worn with the lining coming through. She was confined to that chair for 24 hours, with sleep impossible, and the following afternoon had been given nothing to eat nor even a cup of tea. Edwin brought some juice and sandwiches, and later in the evening she was transferred to an "assessment" ward. There, she did have a bed, but it was complete bedlam with beds being wheeled in and out all night, demented patients shouting for attention, a psychotic patient screaming about the voices telling him to end his life, and some violent drunk being restrained by the police who had to be called. The old lady in the bed next to Ann finally went silent: she had died there alone. 

Next day, I was finally able to take Ann home. She had probably had a heart attack, Although the gap of a few days meant the acute changes were missed. Ann was put on  a beta-blocker to control the heart rate and anticoagulants to prevent blood clots breaking free with the potential to cause a stroke, and an appointment with the cardiologist tomorrow. Later we heard that that Monday was their all-time busiest on record, to the point where they would have to close A&E completely and divert all ambulances to other hospitals. Ann is still getting very tired, but hopefully is on the mend, and we will finally get the verdict of a consultant soon.

Picnic by the sea

 

The sun sets over camp

What a glorious end to a wonderful day we had yesterday. Ben and Kaz had been to stay for a couple of nights as a break from their camping holiday, and yesterday they invited us to join them on the campsite for a day of total relaxation and being spoilt.

The campsite was idyllic, a quiet field overlooking the sea, yet with full amenities. It even provided picnic tables above the cliff edge, though Bronte provided a moment of drama when she slipped her collar and wandered up to the edge.

They cooked a great barbeque, with lamb kebabs and sausages for themselves and veggie burgers for us - the most tasteful we've had, served with wine and salad. Later, Kaz cooked melted marshmallows on skewers for desert. The barbeque was later converted into a fire pit, heaped high with driftwood to provide a welcome blaze as the day grew colder. Even that was not without incident, as the wind caught one of the chairs after we left, toppling it into the fire where it immediately melted the plastic and started burning merrily, till they threw copious water over it.

A warm welcome from Ben

Among other problems, I seem to feel the cold more than I used to. Ben and Ann between them solved this by wrapping me in Ann's coat and scarf, and a snoodie from Ben = a thick hooded wearable blanket that left me looking like Obi-Wan Kenobi, but was incredibly warm. Then, as darkness fell, we reluctantly had to head for home. It has made us realise, though, how good life could be if we had our own motorhome to take to places like this. We could stay up as long as we wished, drink all we wanted, then just roll into bed! Ideal.

I warm up in Ben's snoodie

A belated but welcome Father's Day

Ann adjusts her scarf before tackling Cocktail in a Book

We went to see Union Gap in Haverhill on Thursday, a real blast from the past. The group had performed such hits as Woman, Woman, Young Girl, and Lady Willpower, back in the 60's-70's, so it was a night of happy nostalgia.  

With most of the children living far away and Edwin and Andre in Oxford, we celebrated a very quiet Father's Day last week: just Ann and I over a good meal she had prepared. Last night, Edwin and Andre compensated in style, taking us to Sakura, a brilliant Sushi restaurant in Bury. It was up to anything we had had in Japan, a lovely drawn-out meal with good wine and conversation. It only opened just before lockdowns, but has built a good reputation with many repeat visitors from far afield.

We left well satisfied, so walked in the cool air to let it settle. Except we were drawn into a Nightclub/Speakeasy bar down one of the little side streets. Bury-St-Edmunds is a remarkably lively town late at night, a place we oldies would never see without the boys leading us there.  The Speakeasy, hidden downstairs, was still closed through staff shortages, but the bar upstairs was full and lively. 

They had a stack of games including Perudo, which we played with noisy enthusiasm. Each player has their own dice cup and set of dice which are thrown in secret. There follows a round of gusty bluffing and bidding until someone calls a challenge. The loser of the challenge forfeits a dice, and the game continues until there is just one player - the winner. Edwin and I were out quickly, but Ann, with her perfect poker face for such games, battled gamely on until Andre just pipped her when each had one dice. Almost incidental to the dice game, we had cocktails - Ann's naturally hidden in a book, Andre's in a smoking fairy grotto, then back to the boys' for more drinks or - in my case - a simple tea. It was very late then, near half-past midnight, and though the boys could go on all night and Ann for another hour, I was exhaused and could only shuffle to the car to get home and crawl into bed.