More stamping of feet

I have bored you already about the state of my rotten knees, and shall do so again in future, no doubt.  Physiotherapy did not help, and indeed made matters rather worse.  At the end of the session, I was advised to take advice on pain relief, and Benenden offered me a consultation with a surgeon.  I decided to wait and give ibuprofen a chance.  A couple of months later I went back and said I’d like to take them up on the offer of a consultation, and was refused.  As a neighbour in France used to say, j’ai sorti ma plus belle plume and fired off a letter asking for reconsideration, pointing out that I have been paying my subs for over 50 years, and asking why the change of mind.  Silence.  A month later I wrote to the CEO.  Apologetic phone call yesterday from their complaints lady, saying that I would indeed be offered a consultation.  Three further phone calls later, I have an appointment in just over two weeks’ time.  It’s a pity things don’t happen these days until you make a fuss.  I’m getting better at it.  Next target: British Gas.

Martyn is still not out of the woods.  Though the rash is starting to fade, he still feels as though someone is sticking pins in a voodoo effigy of him.  He still can’t bear a shirt against his skin - which makes for an easier washing day at least.  I think he’s on the mend: he’s focusing on planning a little holiday in September.

The bathroom project drags on.  Week 6 is coming to an end, and the tiler has been here to finish tidying up behind the wc.  The bidet and basin taps have yet to be changed, but the door was painted yesterday, so I can at last get on and give the place a good cleaning.

I unbagged the first of our charlottes a few days ago: a slightly better yield than last year, and they are as delicious as ever.  The tomatoes have been cropping well, so we’ve had a couple of caprese salads and bruschette for lunch.  Also delicious.  The original four tomato plants are between crops at the moment, with only a few ripe fruits on the vines, but with plenty to come.  We have three of the next generation growing in the conservatory, and rather a lot more out on the terrace.  The gardeners were here during the week, and have done the much overdue weeding of the front garden, which was starting to look pretty dreadful: I can’t spend too long kneeling without putting myself out of action for days.  So with a bit of help from Ben and Duncan, the garden is looking good.  I’m quite pleased with the dwarf nicotiana I grew from seed: Martyn planted them out along the side of the pond.  I quite like the subtle colours, but one man’s subtle is another’s insipid, and there’s a school of thought here that might prefer a better range of brighter colours…