Unerwünschte Arzneimittelwirkungen

Aka side effects in a more economical language (though Nebenwirkungen is a slightly easier version available to those of the Teutonic persuasion).  Two days after the RSV vaccination I started a feverish cold, and five days on I’m still coughing and sneezing, and having trouble sleeping thanks to stuffed up airways.  I should grateful for the protection it’ll give me: on googling side effects I found that quite a few had similar experiences, but one comment from a no doubt US American contributor reported reluctance to pay the $500 the shot would cost!  I don’t usually have problems with jabs, though I do recall a similar reaction to a flu jab some years ago, and a smallpox vaccination when I was in my teens laid me low for a few days.  (I was due to go to Orléans that summer, and since there had been an outbreak in Wales, France wouldn’t let anyone in without a vaccination certificate.)

Well, I seem to on the mend: I did some overdue dead-heading and hacking back yesterday, and filled a bucket to fill up the council’s garden waste bin.  One believes in getting one’s money’s worth.  A propos garden, I think we may need to set aside a day for apple stewing.  The Bramley is groaning with fruit, and we don’t want to leave them to the beasties.  I think we might need the preserving pan!

One word from me…

…and the garden does what it bloody well likes.  Annie next door had a verbena bonariensis or two in her front garden last year.  This year our front garden looks like this:

Decorative, sure, and it might be suppressing other weeds like oxalis.  I guess the roots must have penetrated the membrane under the slate chippings.  I suspect we’ve got it for good now.  I’ve scattered some eschscholzia seeds on the same area, so they can slug it out next year.  I’ll mix it up next year with seed from the poppies that arrived unbidden, probably from Lisa, our neighbour on the other side.

You’ll have tolerated patiently my chunterings about the sweet olive tomatoes.  Well, they are ripening now and are quite delicious.  What they aren’t is Sweet Olive!  They ripen to a dark chocolate brown, so I guess they’re Chocolate Cherry.  So apologies to those I’ve given cuttings thereof: but I’m sure you’ll enjoy them nevertheless.

I’ve had a prompt or two over the last couple of weeks to book an RSV jab.  This is a common respiratory virus which is possibly a problem for people my age, since it can develop into the Old Man’s Friend (pneumonia).  I rang the local practice yesterday, and they offered me an appointment that same afternoon.  Let’s not slag off the NHS, eh?  I have a slightly sore arm today, and feel pretty wabbit, as nurse Helen predicted.  

But the washing is drying on the line, and the dead-heading and grass cutting can wait for a cooler, less humid day.

Modern times

As we drove up yesterday to Kate and John’s, we were struck by how much has changed in SE London and the East End.  There are vast towers of posh flats everywhere, yet many of the shop fronts along the A13 are shuttered and covered in graffiti.  Driving etiquette seems to be a thing of the past, and lots of young men on bikes and in hot hatches weave in and out of traffic as though they think themselves immortal.  One is glad to be elderly and comfortably installed in genteel Disgustedville.  And driving a bright red car the arbitrary manoeuvres of which at least say ‘watch out!’.

Meanwhile, as befits one’s advancing years and limited ambition, the laundry’s done, and the grass is cut.  And it has been good to stay at home, charge the car and enjoy an afternoon nap.

Auld acquaintance

A delightful lunch today with Kate and John at their home in Islington.  John had barbecued a delicious rack of lamb and corn on the cob, and Kate had done Delia Smith roast vegetables and a summer pudding.  They were on fine form, and we had a good catch-up round the table after aperitifs in the garden.  I first met them in Lagrasse a few years before I retired: they still have a house there, and jet off south several time a year.

Since I wanted to take them some plants, we took a deep breath and drove up.  I hadn’t driven in London for about ten years, and today’s experience reminded me why that is!  The 20 mph speed limit tames matters somewhat, but the traffic is as bad as ever, and drivers are less courteous than hereabouts.  Giving way to other drivers rarely gets an acknowledgment, so not a few earned a Trumpington salute.  We used the new Silvertown Tunnel in both directions: it is longer and more sinuous than the Blackwall, but does the job as well or better.  The M25 was OK on the way up, but when we tried to join it from the A2 on the way home we found it blocked solid.  We headed back up the A2 and knitted an alternative route home.  On balance, it was easier than travelling by train and bus: and a damn’ sight cheaper, tunnel tolls and congestion charge notwithstanding.  But I won’t be repeating the experience soon: it’s a bit tiring.

Back here in the garden, the rain has brought a lot of stuff on, notably the grass, which I’ll tackle tomorrow (it says here on the wall…).  Ben did a good job weeding the front last time he was here, but we agreed that he’d leave the self-sown verbena bonariensis, which is, I grant you, quite pretty, even though it’s growing in practically nothing.  We’ve been cropping spuds, but the yield is poor.  The tomatoes are being a bit slow to ripen.  Maybe I’ll have to bite the bullet and get produce from the shops.