It's the little things

This week I have discovered two small pleasures.  Well, when I say 'discovered' I don't mean I've never done it before, obviously; it's just that it never seemed as pleasurable as it does at the moment:

Walking barefoot on the lawn, feeling the cool grass between my toes; and standing in the garden feeling the breeze on my face.  

It makes me smile.

No time like the present

I want to quote from an e-mail that I just had from.... well, someone who I met who I feel might become a friend.  

"Great to hear you are getting about even if on the hop, March is a little way off but maybe it was just time for you to sit and look at the world for a while so embrace it. I'm sure something magical will come from life being lived in a new way for a while... Sometimes we need to look at the apparently awful sideways to realise everything is tainted by the way we look at it."

I almost feel that I have already wasted much of the last two months on looking ahead to when this will all be over, whereas I should be making the most of the present.  I should be using this opportunity to see things differently; expand my mind; consider what is important in life; take the time to think, while I do not have to be rushing from home to office to shops and back again.  

But often it is so much easier to say than do. Yet another day slips by with too much time spent on the computer....!  or flitting between working and doing things around the house.

Slowing down  and considering is a skill to be learned, I think; most of us aren't very good at it.

Be Careful

I first quote from a fellow blogger 829 South Drive, from a post which I read, commented on, and decided I wanted to share the sentiment here:

"There's a blogger out there that not too long ago voiced his dislike of being told to "be careful" before going somewhere or doing something.

"Is there ever a time when a thoughtful farewell of "be careful" actually resulted in that person who received that farewell having taken actions that he or should would not have normally taken?, ie, the "be careful" comment having helped? And even if a major fluke of an accident did take place -- like a car accident or slipping in the shower and breaking your skull -- could the most careful person have avoided it with even the most obsessive precautions taken? Answer: no.

We live in a pretty safe world. The odds are in your favor to do whatever you want in over 190 countries and not come away harmed. "Be careful". What a shallow thing to say, based in fear."

Our sailor had a different take on it. In his view, "be careful" meant "I care for you and I want you back alive and in health."

This latter view is absolutely how I see it as well.

After the car crash, whenever Mr H. leaves to drive to Scotland, or to a friend in the Cotswolds, or to Pontypridd to see a van, I hesitate over what to say: "Drive carefully"? I know that he will.  "Drive safely"? which actually means 'arrive safely'.

Perhaps all I need to say is "I love you, do your best to avoid idiots on the road".

A short tour of the garden

I finished work at 3pm today, there comes a point where I just run out of steam.  As an antidote to sitting in the house since 9am, Django and I went and did a few laps of the garden, enjoying the warm breeze before the rain starts.

There are a few things in the garden at the moment that make me smile...

I bought a buffalo tomato plant, put it in a pot at which point it decided to feign dying.   Instead of throwing it out, I decided to bung it in the border to see what happened, and it liked it!  Although it wasn't a good choice of spot because it probably doesn't get enough sun.  Still I was pleased to see that one of the tomatoes is going red, hurrah!  Mind you, we have pretty much decided that we are going to use the green tomatoes for our quince chutney...

Mr H.s mum gave us a quince tree many years ago, which we planted at the site of the plum tree which we cut down (the only one who ever ate them was Revel, Django's father).  The quince tree is now a great producer, first we made jam but I am now converted to making chutney.  Don't even suggest quince jelly: anything that involves an upside down chair and a piece of muslin is definitely off my list.  With the rain over the last couple of weeks this year's fruit has suddenly grown. It will need picking soon, which means that either Mr H. or I, or both of us, will soon have blisters on our fingers from cutting up the rock-hard fruit.

This spring we cut down the huge chilean potato plant (more like tree) which was covering the gazebo and looked lovely, but decided to die on us.  I replaced it with a blue bell early flowering clematis on one side, a pink jasmine on the other.  They suffered somewhat in the dry weather (and we forgot to water them) but since they've had some rain they are shooting up again.  Hopefully next spring we'll be able to enjoy them in their youthful glory.

Meanwhile on the pergola the wisteria is spreading nicely; now we just need to persuade the new growth to cling on to the frame - every time there is a reasonable breeze the young shoots let go and just fly around in the wind!

In the bottom left corner of the above picture you can just see some cyclamen. I love cyclamen, their delicate tenderness which somehow manages to survive all kinds of unintentional abuse.  All the examples in our garden have either been on the site since before we got here, or have been dug up accidentally somewhere in the garden and been chucked into their current position. They just shake themselves off and surprise us later with their pretty pink flowers where I'm not expecting them.

 

OK, this one didn't make me smile, but I'm not that bothered either. About a month ago Mr H. told me that the mistletoe on our little apple tree at the bottom of the garden seemed to be dying, and it was shedding onto the ground.  The only reason we haven't cut down the apple tree, is the mistletoe; at least that is my reason.  Every year it has a huge mass of it, bunches of which get distributed to friends in the office at Christmas and hung in the hall at home for unsuspecting visitors. The apples have always been small and we have never eaten them.  Now the mistletoe is definitely dead or dying, and so is the apple tree by the look of its leaves.  So now we have no reason whatsoever to keep it, something to put on the Christmas holiday joblist for Mr H. 

I hope you have enjoyed the short tour!

Broken femur essentials!

I thought I'd show you the things that I have gathered over the last couple of months which make my life easier, recommended for anyone with a broken leg!

A footstool, acquired by Mr H. from one of his upholstery friends.  Cost £0.

Bubba Keg insulated mug, makes it easy to transport your drink (because of the lid), and it is still hot when you get there!  And it's cool shocking pink. Cost £8.

An everyday shoulder bag for transporting books, phones, writing paper and pen, camera etc.  This one came from my aunt. Cost £0.

'Bucket' bag for transporting my Bubba Keg mug and biscuits, and other things that don't fit well in the shoulder bag.  A present from a friend a few years ago. Cost £0.

An office space with a suitable chair, so there is a specific space to keep the work laptop and other stuff.  The chair was being thrown out by our office. Cost £0.

A showering stool, essential for those of us without a bath!  My parents had this one hanging around in the loft, so cost to me £0, but they are quite expensive to buy.  Non slip shower mat £12.95.

Bathroom stool to collapse gratefully onto once I have negotiated getting out of the shower without slipping.  Also good for sitting to wash or scrub all that dry skin off my legs.  Had it years, cost £0.

The best thing of all, my trolley!  Mr H. found this in a junk shop in Lymington and with a tray on top (model's own) it is used for transferring meals from worktop to table; without the tray it is used for transferring clothes to and from the washing machine. Cost £14.

Long handled dustpan and brush. I have found I have to sit down to use it safely but it does mean I can reach a long way!  It means I can keep the level of dog hair in the kitchen down to acceptable levels.  Cost £20.

Folding stool for cooking and washing up. It is officially an Ironing Stool haha! not much of that goes on around here.  Much cheaper and more convenient than mobility 'perching stools'.  Cost £18.99

Last but not least, lightweight, half-cuff folding crutches.  SO much more comfortable than the standard NHS issue, and can be folded away under your chair when you're out, so people don't trip over them.  They come in 16 different colours too!  Pricey but worth it.  Cost £82.50 inc postage from Chic Aid Crutches

Happy Birthday to Mr H.

Today is Mr H.'s birthday and yet again he is away from home.   For the last few years he has either been away in Scotland, or we have been away on holiday; it is a while since we've both been at home for 4th September.

For the first few days of this week it just felt as if he were away for a long weekend. Round about Wednesday I started missing him and now I am looking forward to next Friday when he will come home for the first time, just for a weekend.

He has told me to make sure I leave something for him to do.  I think the mowing and maybe some clothes washing will suffice; it would probably be a bit mean to leave a week's worth of washing up....?

History

I saw an old boyfriend today, from 24 years ago.  I only got a glance at him walking across the car park, as I drove past in someone else's car.  I had to double-take because I thought he was in the Caribbean, so he was completely out of context.  But it was definitely him; despite the very grey hair, I'd recognise that smug smile anywhere!  

Part of me wanted to stop and say hello, but more of me didn't.    What would we talk about?   Actually I know what he'd say, and it would make me uncomfortable and wish I hadn't spoken to him.

Some people are best consigned to history.

Digging holes

Sometimes I think it is better to just make a statement, rather than try to explain; I just wish I found it easier.

Yes I'm talking about that great bugbear of my life:  Justification

For most of my adult life I have felt that I have to justify my actions, thoughts, non-actions and decisions.  A lot of the time it is because people ask "Why?" but sometimes I will give my justification in anticipation of the question; because I know they will ask me, or I can see in their face that they are not just going to just accept my statement.  I even found myself justifying to a member of my sailing club WHY I just didn't feel like going racing that evening, which afterwards felt like such a waste of 10 minutes of my life.

Quite often I find that when I explain 'why', that is not accepted, or it's argued (especially when the other person has an interest in the decision) and I have to dig deeper and deeper into myself desperately searching for more reasons why am thinking, acting or proposing to act that way I am.  "Man in hole should stop digging" but somehow I keep shovelling.  This in turn fosters a resentment for the person I am telling, who evidently just Doesn't Get It.

What makes us feel we have to justify our thoughts and decisions?   I'm not talking about big decisions that affect our nearest and dearest, but those that really are not life-changing.  Surely our lives are our own?   Why can we not just say "I have decided so-and-so" and that's that.

I am going to try and change this about myself, and practice some assertion. Maybe it will stop me worrying about how I am going to justify still being in my pyjamas at 10am, to the dog.