Progress

Martyn had a go at the piano yesterday, and though he’s conscious of some left arm weakness, his fingers were doing what they were told.  A great relief to us both.  We’re keeping an eye on his blood pressure, which is consistent and reasonable.

Progress also in the garden: the spuds are planted and starting to shoot through the surface of the compost, and the runner beans are planted and growing well.  I’ll perhaps start some dwarf French beans in pots today or tomorrow.  Some of the bedding plants are planted or given away, and the rest are hardening off outdoors.  The pelargonium cuttings are almost ready to plant, to replace the primulas in the basket at the front door: they are still flowering, but will be due for replacement soon.  The roses are growing like mad, but the greenfly are back, so I’ve been round with the spray bottle.  The recent warm weather has really got things going in the garden, including an uninvited beech tree, which has suddenly burst into leaf.  I’m rather fond of it, but recognise that it’ll eventually have to go before it gets too big.

Bulletin from Forges-l’Evêque

On Friday, Martyn awoke with some symptoms consistent with his having had a TIA in his sleep.  No crooked smile, no slurring, no trouble holding both arms up, but trouble getting his left hand to type or play what it was told.  NHS 111 ran through the usual diagnostics, and advised seeing the doctor within the hour.  The doctor had gone to lunch, and we got an appointment for a couple of hours later.  The doctor rang back within minutes, asked a few questions and dispatched us to A&E.  Cutting a long story short, we spent over five hours at the hospital, where he was thoroughly assessed and scanned, then discharged, told to take aspirin and a blood pressure pill, and referred to the TIA clinic.  First thing on Monday, the hospital rang, calling him in for a 10:30 appointment.  We were there for just under three hours, during which Martyn had a preliminary consultation, an MRI, an ultrasound examination of the blood vessels in his neck, an ECG, a blood pressure check and a talk with a consultant.

It transpires that he has had a small stroke.  Although he is a bit shaken by the turn of events (moi aussi, d’ailleurs...), he seems to be functioning perfectly well, with only some very slight weakness on his left side.  He seems to be using his computer keyboard normally - problems in that respect were among the first signs of trouble on Friday - but I think he’s reluctant to try the piano for the moment.

We have nothing but praise for the way the NHS swung into action.  True, there was a bit of hanging around in A&E: thank goodness we didn’t arrive six hours later, it being Friday pm.   The hospital’s free Wifie allowed us to watch some of Martyn’s favourite TV programmes on the iPad while we waited, and that was a great help to us both.  

If there’s one criticism, it’s that the prescription he was given on Friday could only be dispensed by the hospital pharmacy, which by then was closed to outpatients until Monday morning.  Fortunately, the blood pressure prescription is identical to mine, so we could get him going on that straight away.  The hospital gave him a first dose of aspirin, and the local chemist fixed us up next day with dispersable aspirin for the princely sum of 55p.  Parking at the hospital has made a small dent in the housekeeping, but that’s a small price to pay.  

Reducing the blood pressure is now the priority, and he has also been prescribed a statin, again identical to my prescription, but this time provided by the hospital on the day.  We are reviewing the diet, and in due course will step up the exercise.   

Couple of good trips out

A week past Friday, a fine, warm day, I suggested on the spur of the moment a visit to Sissinghurst Castle gardens, where we hadn’t been for rather too long.  Well, they seem to be coping despite our neglect.  The daffodils were going over, of course, but there were lots of fritillaries and pulsatilla in flower in the lime walk, and plenty of primulas.  From there we headed down to Hythe for lunch looking out over the sparkling sea, and then ambled back gently across country.

We should be grabbing such fine days to do a spot of gardening at home, of course, but the weather has turned chilly, windy and wet - even with some hail showers.  The weeds are growing vigorously under last year’s new plantings by the landscapers, so we’ll need to get on with that pretty soon.  I’m struggling to find containers and space for all the seedlings in the sitooterie, and have had to move the pelargoniums to the cold frame to make room for the squillions of antirrhinum and other seedlings.

Yesterday we went with the U3A bird watching group to the London Wetlands Centre at Barnes.  A wonderful place, well provided with paved paths (made, evidently, from crushed concrete from the old Barn Elms reservoirs) and excellent hides.  We saw all sorts of waterfowl and waders, plus dozens of sand martins, a few jackdaws and even a snipe or two.  The journey was quite convoluted: we had opted for our little country station where there’s free parking, and whence fares are substantially lower.  Two changes and a bus ride later (and guess which old fool forgot to check that he had his bus pass in his wallet?), we were there soon after the mainliners.  All the connexions worked well and quickly there and back, and the various changes provided much needed exercise.

I’ve had, I hope, the last of my two-yearly appraisals at the hobby, since I retire 15 months hence - if I’m spared.  It seems to have gone OK, but of course I have to wait for it to be signed off by the appropriate committee.

Our travel plans being a shade less extravagant this year, we’re planning a spot of household maintenance.  Two of the WCs need replacement, and we’ll take the opportunity to put in a new basin with a cupboard under it in the cloakroom.  Two of the tradesmen are lined up, but it occurs to us that we also need to finalise a list of jobs for the sparky.  Oh well, no pockets in shrouds.

L’administraaaaaation française, chapter 317

I’ve wittered on in the past about the nonsense being ‘granted a rebate’ on a tax that, my being no longer a property owner in France, I was not liable to pay in the first place.  There have been a couple of rounds of correspondence about the taxe d’habitation and the taxes foncières, and the postie brought a letter the other day about a sub-set of the former: the ‘contribution à l’audiovisuel public’.  Each year, they ask you to say whether (a)  you haven’t got a telly; (b) whether you’re covered by a licence at another address, or (c) or (d), which I can’t be arsed to recite.  I patiently filled in the form stating, in essence, none of the above, since I sold up in November 2017, photographed said form and emailed it back.  (I refrained from adding that I’d told them this a year ago.)  At least they now give an email address which saves me the trek to the Post Office and the exorbitant cost of a stamp for France.  Next steps awaited.

Meanwhile, we have booked train seats to Avignon in June, and a rental car at the station, so shall take another trip to Lagrasse to see how it’s coping without us.  As before, we think we’ll drive to Ashford and park (and hope to find wheels on the car on our return).

Another quiz last night, with the same team as last year’s similar event in aid of Disgustedville Citizens’ Advice.  Unfortunately, one of this year’s marathon sheets was all about sport, our acknowledged short suit.  But another consisted of cryptic clues to local place names (eg angry tick: Mark Cross; damage study: Marden) so we still came third out of twenty-some.

Another letter in this week’s post brought the news that I get an extra £4-ish in state pension per week, less, of course, Hammond’s 40%. That’s a shade less than a bottle of Fortnums’ worst rosé.  Let joy be unconfined.

Spring?

Matters horticultural proceed apace.  The pelargoniums from the basket at the front door, despite some frost damage, have provided a lot of cuttings, and the hacked-down stumps of the donor plants are sprouting away like there’s no tomorrow.  But then, they are now basking in the sitooterie.  Where  various sowings are also doing quite well.  Mr Sutton’s cosmos were the first up, closely followed by Chrissie‘s saved tall orange marigold seeds.  Sutton’s rudbeckias - the few seed he sold us - are slow to germinate, even in the heated propagator, whereas the seed I saved last year from another merchant’s plants of the same variety, left lying in an envelope in the kitchen for months, are germinating like mad.  (Perhaps I should enter into negotiation with Mr S.). I’m having another crack at penstemons from seed, though I have greater faith in the cuttings, which have over-wintered well: so far.  The antirrhinums are also starting to germinate, but the seedlings are so tiny that it’s going to be a challenge to bring them on.

We planted quite a lot of bulbs in containers last back end, and some tiny hoop petticoat daffs are coming into flower.  The tulips are also coming along well, and I see that it was a mistake to crowd them into tubs with polyanthus, which are struggling a bit.

Yesterday we took a ride along to the nursery near Hartfield to buy a cornus plant.  I was seriously pissed off with our landscapers when they planted the wrong variety, since I wanted lime green bark to contrast with the red bark of the plant we brought with us from Smith Towers twelve years ago.  Well, we found a nice specimen, and have planted it.

At a less creative level, the car has been signalling that it wanted a top-up of what a certain Stryne motoring pundit describes as ‘glorified piss’.  I bought a huge flagon thereof yesterday, at a significant price, having only briefly toyed with the idea of improvising....

We had a most enjoyable visit last Sunday from a former work colleague and his wife.  Paul and I hadn’t met for a good 25 years, and neither of us had met the other’s partner, so I was a shade nervous about the prospect.  It went really well: a plain lunch and a good chinwag.  I’m meeting Paul in town next week to sit in the gallery at his local hobby venue, since he’s thinking of taking it up.
Next day I’m chairing the final session of a colleague with whom I swore at a judge on the same day back in 2004.  Tempus don’t half fugit.

Winter: please define

This time a year ago we were dealing with the snow brought by the Beast from the East.  For the last three days we have had lunch out on the terrace, the grass has had its first February cut ever and I’ve been drying the laundry outside on the line.  It’s set to revert now to something more like a February/March pattern, but it has been lovely while it lasted.  I have sown lots of flower seed today: dwarf antirrhinums, marigolds, cosmos, penstemons and rudbeckia.  Mr Sutton’s seed packets are a bit of a mix: I got the merest pinch of rudbeckia seeds, and something like 2400 antirrhinums.  The rudbeckia ratio is surprising, given that I harvested millions of them last back end.  We’ll see how the bought and harvested batches compare.

Mental gymnastics

Slightly startling experience the other morning.  The postman had to ring the bell to deliver a parcel, and addressed me in German.  The other item, in its clear plastic wrapper, was a German language magazine I subscribe to.  The rest of our vestigial conversation continued in that language.  I suspect that he, like our usual postie, is Polish, so I’ll try Polish next time he rings (my Polish just about runs to ‘good morning’.)

Art club was quite good on Thursday: Martyn and I each finished a couple of pieces for our current topic, Heritage.  Martyn has done a picture of a narrow boat navigating a canal, and I’ve done a little view of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the upper Douro valley at Pinhão.  I’ve made a start on a piece on another UNESCO site, the Canal du Midi at Le Somail, and I think it’s going better than the last attempt on the subject.  I’m setting myself modest targets, using up the last of a batch of little 8x6 canvases that I got for our show last year, so spend only a couple of hours on each.

We joined some of my co-hobbyists last night at the Mayor’s quiz at a school over at the county town.  Most of us are knocking on retirement, but we had a younger clerk on the team, and she was definitely our secret weapon and saving grace: we came joint fourth out of 40.  Anyway, it was a cheerful evening as always (though the questions were for the most part a bit easier than we’re used to closer to home).

I consulted Via Michelin before we set out, and Monsieur Bibendum recommended a rather tortuous route on narrow  roads.  This was not altogether welcome in misty conditions, so we opted for a slightly less direct but simpler route home afterwards.  Whatever, we made it unscathed, but I have to say that my appetite for driving, particularly after dark, is fading.