May 2018 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

A Day In The Life Of

It is probably accurate to say that my day began at 2 a.m. That’s because I didn’t just doze off again, but actually did some work on my computer.

Then I dozed off.

Then the lovely Elise woke me to take my blood pressure and stuff, with “How are you today?”.

“I’m much better except when people wake me up to do stuff to me”.

Laughter.

It must then have been about 6.30 a.m. when I heard: “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

” No thanks” must have seemed very churlish. At least it was delivered with a smile.

“You haven’t ordered any breakfast” must have woken me at about 7 a.m.

With another smile, “because I didn’t think I would be able to eat any. But thank you for checking.

The wittily caring Carley has been my nurse for the day. “Here are your painkillers”. I’m not sure when. “I’ll have to sit you up a bit. Cos I don’t want you choking”.

“That would be most unfortunate”.

“Especially after all that work we did yesterday.”

Soon after 9 a.m. my liquid morphine was administered in preparation for the torture session administered by Marcus, today’s physiotherapist. He arrived about half an hour later. ready to get me out of bed.

“First you must roll over on your side”.

Given choice, I opted for left.

“Swing your good leg. I will hold the operated one”.

Gradually using the walking frame I transferred my weight from my bum on the edge of the bed to both feet and the handles of the walker.

“Starting with the good leg take steps toward the chair,”

“Not so big steps”.

“Now turn sideways”

“Using the same system?”

“Yes”.

“When you feel the chair on the backs of your legs, try to lower yourself onto the seat.”

Mission accomplished. I thought.

At this point there is an interruption in the proceedings, because Marcus returned this afternoon `with Connor, a student.

“This afternoon we are going to a few more steps down the corridor with the Zimmer fame, and if successful transferring to the crutches.”

My complex expression, attempting to display both horror and amusement, was a giveaway.

“I can see you are very pleased with this suggestion”.

I then explained what had been inflicted upon me since his departure this morning.

I had waited for Gerrard to come and collect me for an x-ray. During this time Alex had guided me from

“Why are you wearing the name tag Alex Chris, when you are not Marcus?”.

“Because I am not Marcus”.

“Ah”.

Then, using the same process, one small step at a time, Alex masquerading as Marcus, had guided me round the bed, into the corridor , and a few yards along it. We then turned around to reverse our steps.

I was then asked to feel for the front of Gerrard’s wheelchair behind me. Gerrard then took over.

“Place your good leg on the footrest. Leave the operated leg to me”.

We each played our part and were soon off to x-ray for the ‘after’ pictures.

Back in my room I was given the chance of returning to bed or remaining in the chair. Given that I was expecting a visit from Mr Kask, I opted for the chair, and promptly went to sleep. He was the next to disturb my slumber. It didn’t take him long to pronounce himself satisfied.

I asked Carley to help me back to bed after this.

Lunch soon arrived. I woke up to eat it. I hope those readers who have expressed concern about the quality of the catering at New Hall will be suitably impressed by this ‘small’ option. I am not sure what the soup was, but it was very tasty. The omelette was plain, of my own choice, and the ice-cream was excellent vanilla. Nevertheless I could only consume one spoonful of soup, Three quarters of the egg, a sprig of rocket, one potato, one slice each of tomato and cucumber, and most of the ice-cream. This morning’s Health Care Assistant had advised that the new slippers were a precaution against slipping, not really to keep germs away. Perhaps I’ll check this tomorrow.

By mid-afternoon I was again interrupted from my posting. Jackie, Elizabeth, and Danni stayed for a good long visit. We conversed about all our usual topics, especially focussing on my sister’s house sale and purchase. My head was clear enough today to make what I thought were reasonable contributions.

Afternoon tea consisted of moist, well-filled egg and cress sandwiches, orange juice, and fruit salad, which I couldn’t face.

I hadn’t ordered any dinner.

Perhaps Not A Good Choice

Three days ago, on Friday, I finished reading John Le Carré’s thrilling novel, ‘The Night Manager’ This was while waiting, all kitted up, to go to theatre for my knee replacement operation.

Unusually for me, I had first seen the film adaptation series on television in 2016. The film, starring Trevor Hiddleston, Hugh Laurie, Tom Hollander, Olivia Coleman, and Elizabeth Debicki was most gripping. As usual, I will not reveal the story, but say that I am impressed by Le Carré’s research and his writing skills. He does, of course, have many worldwide admirers. His spare, descriptive, ability; his insights into human nature; his handling of dialogue; and his building of tension, are all impeccable qualities. He moves seamlessly through time and place. The gradual development of the characters in the book, ‘The Night Manager’ is exemplary. The film did not adhere completely to the novel; one of the male figures was transformed into a woman and the ending has been changed. Given that a Series 2 is in progress that may also be fortuitous.

It was perhaps not a good choice to read this book whilst waiting for the surgeon’s knife, nor to feature it on this post between bouts of medical staff persuading me to leave my bed.

Orange juice and a plain omelette sufficed for my dinner. Richer pickings were on offer.

Slippers

This is a photograph taken by Jackie soon after I returned from surgery yesterday;

and here is one I produced of my new slippers requested by my good friend, Quercus. I can’t fit into the left one at the moment.

I’m a bit off my food at the moment, so I settled for orange juice, a ham sandwich and yoghurt for tea, and dispensed with dinner.

Success

For those kind enough to express concern, I now have a new left knee. I may even photograph the slippers for Quercus tomorrow. Thank you all.

I dined on an egg and cress sandwich and drank orange juice and coffee.

Knees-Op

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After a last look round the garden

Today we are off to New Hall Hospital to exchange one of my knee joints for one that works and will be free of pain.

Becky will arrive soon to accompany us.

Forest Fauna

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This morning we transported two huge bags of garden refuse to the Efford Recycling Centre, then drove on to Peacock Computers at Lymington to collect my MacBook and the dongle which enables me to load pictures from my camera.

On this beautifully sunny day we then drove on through the forest.

Of the many groups of somnolent ponies foraging among the gorse and May blossom, the first to catch my eye were those moseying around the moors beside East Boldre. Some simply chomped; one appeared to be resting its neck by standing in a dry ditch; others rested their legs, rising awkwardly to their feet; waited for a bus at a request stop, or occasionally wandered across the road.

Further along towards the Norleywood crossroads a pair of similarly spindly-legged foals were learning to get to grips with the uneven terrain. When they considered I had come a little too close each darted to its own respective mother.

Some of the forest pools still contain enough water in which cattle can slake their thirst. Calves and their parents drank at this one before crossing the road to comparative shade. One protective parent persuaded me to step aside before leaving its offspring to follow.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious beef stew, new potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, and curly kale. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Apothic.

“I Can’t Eat Any Spices”

On a dull and cooler day, I spent the morning working on the last of the paperwork for my tax return. I was diverted from posting the documents to my accountant until this evening by two welcome visits from friends.

Giles visited early in the afternoon to wish me well for the knee surgery. With Jackie, we enjoyed the kind of conversation that is only really possible with lifelong friends, where there is so much known and understood about each other.

Later, a newer friend, Richard from Kitchen Makers, visited. He is to reform our dressing room. Our conversations are animated and stimulating. With him we don’t have a lifetime of reminiscences, and we are still learning about each other. In addition to being a superb craftsman, he is a great conversationalist and can speak intelligently about a range of subjects.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla where we enjoyed the usual excellent food and friendly service. We both ate prawn puri starters; Jackie’s main course was chicken shaslick and mine was lamb naga; we shared a plain paratha and egg fried rice, and both drank Kingfisher.

The reason we visited our favourite restaurant was that I had been told that I should not eat chillis the night before my operation. It was not me this evening who could not eat any spices. It was the woman in the booth behind us who stated that she couldn’t eat any spices at all and therefore wanted to know which of the meals could be cooked without spices. The patient waiter fielded that one with his customary discretion and tact.

Nothing For It

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I spent a considerable number of frustrating hours attempting to secure internet access today. I will not bore anyone with the details. Looking on the bright side, I decided to tackle the paperwork for my annual tax return. This went quite well until I tackled my bank statements, which I receive on a quarterly basis. The most recent batch has not arrived. “No problem.” I thought. “Now I bank on line I can take the necessary details from there”. …………… “Ah……..”.

There was now nothing for it but to wander round the garden with my camera in hand and a mobile phone in my pocket. There are, of course, less pleasant ways of spending my time.

The clematis Montana now drapes the front wall upon which a trough of blue pansies smile; the potentilla now dances with the vinca.

The sweet scent of the wisteria pervades the area beneath its arbour.

Buds of blue irises and red poppies are simply biding their time.

While I wandered and emptied a trug or two into the compost, Jackie continued replenishing soil and planting in beds and containers.

These verbascum look down on similarly hued Erigeron,

just as the cow parsley soars above everything else in the Dragon Bed.

In the Kitchen Bed’s stone urn white pansies bridge the season of faded white daffodils and that of clematis Marie Boisselot, whose buds can be observed in the obelisk behind.

The first of the geranium Palmatums, which will soon arrive in abundance, has lined up along the Shady Path in line with heucheras,

on the leaves of which a hebe casts its shadow.

Erigeron, aquilegias, vinca, alliums, and silenes crowd each other in the Weeping Birch Bed,

as do aubretia and wild strawberries in the Oval Bed opposite.

Small White butterflies flitted about.

Rosariae de L’Hay enlivens its corner of the Rose Garden.

This afternoon, until I was back on line, I continued reading John Le Carré’s The Night Manager.

Dinner this evening consisted of Jackie’s excellent pasta arrabbiata with which she drank Hoegaarden and I consumed A Dark Apothic 2015 Californian red.

Who’s The Daddy?

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As soon as the shops were open this morning we set off on a slipper hunt for my hospital stay. We found a pair immediately at Stephan Shoes in New Milton. We then travelled to the Community Centre in Milford on Sea, where I might have left my blog card case the other day. There was no-one in the office. Next port of call was Peacock’s Computers who had not yet received a dongle they had ordered for my MacBook. I was also unable to send e-mails and left the machine for James to solve the problem.

Ah, well, I had bought the slippers, and James did solve the problem later.

Whilst I was occupied with the computer Jackie waited for me in the car park behind the High Street. I walked the long way round: past the war memorial and through the graveyard of the parish church of St Thomas the Apostle. Pigeons and other birds occasionally perched on the gravestones, and candelabra lit the chestnut trees.

We then took a drive through the forest. Sun-dappled lanes through which we traversed included Barnes; Undershore, where we happily negotiated motor cars and cyclists; and Shirley Holms alongside which field horses enhanced the terraced landscape.

The more open stretches of Shirley Holms were alive with grazing ponies. I focussed on a family group. The smallest foal clung steadfastly to its chestnut mother. A larger, very similar, junior wandered a little further afield from his white (grey) parent. It seemed to me that the grey coloured adult more attached to these last two was probably a stallion, suggesting that there was no need to ask “who’s the daddy?”. A woman on horseback approached us from further down the slope.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb pasta arrabbiata with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.

Forgotten And Neglected

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Aaron worked as hard as ever in the garden this morning. Lest it be imagined that he never takes a break, here is photographic evidence that we do allow him the statutory minimum.

It was not that long ago that I last photographed the garden from our bathroom window. This Wisteria was not then in bloom.

Our ubiquitous heucheras have now all sent up their flower stems.

Some of those are in the Rose Garden where the bushes are burgeoning, Roseraie de L’Hay bearing the first buds to open.

Numerous aquilegias are also standing proud;

one clump stands beside the shady path, still bestrewn with fallen camellia flowers.

The Viburnum Plicatum in the West Bed has also sprung to life in the last few days.

Our resident sparrow still guards his family from the rooftop.

In order to prevent the risk of infection when, this coming Friday, my left knee joint is to be replaced by a man made model, I will have to wear new slippers. In search of a pair, we drove to Sainsbury’s at Christchurch this afternoon. Their sizes stop at 10, so we will need to try again when more shops are open tomorrow. We didn’t waste our trip out. Jackie set us off to the North of the Forest.

Leaving the A338 at Mockbeggar Lane, Ibsley, we were intrigued by a notice suggesting that what Jackie discovered to have been St Martin’s Church was having a Closing Down Sale. In fact, as Wikipedia tells us, the church itself has been deconsecrated. Following the listing the church became the art gallery which is having the sale. Jackie entered the shop and pronounced it a purveyor of artificial flowers, anything of good quality being over-priced.

I, therefore, contented myself with a study of the surrounding graveyard. It seemed to me that the preponderance of dandelion clocks calling time on the neglected tombs of forgotten eighteenth and nineteenth century residents of the parish, was somewhat appropriate.

https://www.britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/101350890-church-of-st-martins-ellingham-harbridge-and-ibsley#.Wvhu0i-ZNBw give us this information concerning its Grade 2 listing: ‘Parish church. 1832 by John Peniston surveyor, on site of old church. Brick with
some blue headers, east wall partly reused dressed stone, plain tile roof. Plan
of single cell chancel and nave with north and south porches and small west tower.
To east end Y-tracery window in chamfered opening; corner buttresses. To each side
of 6 bays, pointed lancet in chamfered opening,except to west,buttresses between
bays and at each end except between west of centre bays which have gabled porch
with pointed, chamfered opening. West end has small cross-section tower in centre
with similar window, and offset belfry stage with west and east bell opening and
gabled roof. Inside brass of 1599 on floor by altar, tablet to Mary Ann Gray 1757
in brick paviour central aisle. On south wall monument 1627 to John Constable of
2 large kneeling figures between 2 columns to wide open pediment, both hold vine
with busts of their children. C18 Perpendicular style font. On north wall tablet
1757 to Cray. At east end prayer boards, above west door Royal arms board.
Gallery at west end of timber with later screen under to form vestry.’

Jackie informs me that all the mentioned features are still there inside, covered by the gallery’s wares. What now, I wonder?

A small herd of deer grazed in their usual field at Ogdens. When I poked my lens in their direction, one doe pricked up her ears and gave me a stare, decided I was harmless, and returned to her dinner.

On our way home down Roger Penny Way we noticed an interesting vehicle pulling into the car park of The Green Dragon. This was a Morris Cowley bullnose, first produce in 1915. Before entering the pub the driver placed a chock beneath the near side front wheel. I surmised that the vehicle was possibly not fitted with a handbrake.

Cadnam Lane was littered with sheep and the occasional punk pig. One of the pigs masqueraded as an outsize sheep; others, occasionally raising a sleepy snout, snoozed by the wayside.

This evening we dined on roast pork with superb crackling, new potatoes, carrots, and broccoli, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Concha y Toro Malbec