where art collides philosoperontap

Awake. Pulse normal, blood oxygen normal, blood pressure normal which is unusual because I normally take tablets. I’ll have to watch that. Blood sugar back to normal after skyrocketing with the bourbon biscuit binge on Tuesday after the op. Hey it was all about recovery.

Still is for the next couple of weeks when the hip is expected to be sore. I’m taking home powerful morphine pills and liquid. No idea what. The nurses keep rattling off names but the only one I recognise is paracetamol.

Cup of tea in bed now before breakfast service at eight am ish. Bacon roll and toast and marmalade this morning. Must remind them about the brown sauce as I think I forgot. When I get home I have requested a cheese and onion crisp sandwich. If today isn’t the day there will never be a right day to have a cheese and onion crisp sandwich. Or a wrong one.

Rob picking me up at ten this morning which is v good of him. It will be worth a few beers in exchange. It’s only an hour home. The issue will be getting the leg into the car. Should be ok with the front passenger seat pushed right back. Otherwise I’ll have to sit across the back seat.

Then it’s a chill out day at home getting used to my surroundings. Might seem a strange thing to say considering we’ve lived in that house for 29 years but I won’t be able to use the sofas for a while. Tom and THG have moved the high armchair from the shed into the living room for me. Needs to be of a height such that my knees don’t have to bend more than 90 degrees. 22 ½ inches apaz. The bed will just about be ok. 

Taking it easy on the right leg this morning. Did a lot of exercises yesterday and it was quite sore by the afternoon. Par for the course. THis morning, having been lying still all night, the right leg is not as mobile as it will be later when I’ve exercised it a little more.

I use a grabber to pick things up off the floor as I’m not allowed to bend down but last night I leant on it and it broke. Actually I haven’t had to use it much because there are lots of nice people around to do things for me. I do have another at home and this one will superglue ok but I had to improvise getting my pyjama bottoms on last night. A crutch came to the rescue. I had forewarned the nurse that I might need a hand (ooerr) but fortunately I managed on my own. It’s good to think I’ll be soon able to look back at this time of immobility and crippledom and move on to the sunlit uplands.

The challenge for this morning is getting my undies and kecks on. I must have managed ok somehow yesterday. I should be able to pack my bag and someone will carry it downstairs for me. I might even get wheeled to reception. Wheeeee. Suspect they want me to fork out thirty nine quid for the crutches. The one thing the insurance co doesn’t pay for apaz. We shall see. They take amex.

Been a bit of a result having insurance cover. There would have been no change out of nineteen grand otherwise. Ok I’d have put it all on amex and got thirty k avios out of it but nineteen grand buys you a lot of flights. Or just two first class returns somewhere exotic. 

Waiting for the NHS would not have been a serious option. I wouldn’t even have had  the first consultant appointment yet had I waited, let alone have had the operation. Would probs have spent the next couple of years in a wheelchair, my soreness was that bad. Bone grinding on bone.

The same consultants operate for the NHS as in private but I was able to choose the surgeon based on recommendations from friends in the business and not just who was on offer in Lincoln. This really is a two tier system we have in the UK. I am a fan of the NHS but needs must.

Just waiting for me bacon roll now. I’m mostly packed and after brekkie will just need to get dressed and ready for the discharge process which will take a little time as there will be some explaining of drug taking timing to be made and understood. I will need to make notes.

The experience at the Park Hospital has been brilliant. The real world now beckons!

Well sleeping on my back proved not to be onerous. My hip won’t really let me turn yet anyway so sfine. I do juggle my feet and bend the right leg a lot when I remember. Not when I’m typing as my macbook is propped up against my left leg. Functional description especially for @Jess Ratty there.  

Woke naturally at around five thirty despite the two am blood pressure interruption, abluted, so to speak, using a new cardboard flask (obvs) and as soon as I was back in bed had another blood pressure test so I’d have been woken up anyway. It’s not just blood pressure. It’s also pulse and temperature followed by a separate nurse doing the blood oxygen test. That one is heading in right direction but not back to normal yet. 

Now sipping on a mug of tea, as opposed to the teapot and cup on a tray arrangement. Must all still be in the dishwasher or down in the kitchen in prep for the seven thirty breakfast service. I forgot to order brown sauce so hopefully that won’t take too long. Full English aint the same without brown sauce. None of this red sauce nonsense :). Probs get out of bed for brekkie and have it in “my chair”. I have three chairs. It is the Presidential Suite after all. Apaz the Chief Exec of the hospital group used this suite when she was in for a treatment. Not allowed to tell you why she was in obvs. Don’t know anyway. All ended well apaz which you’d expect wouldn’t you? Innit.

Today is my second and last full day in the Park Hospital. Looking forward to it far more than the first day which turned out to be quite a revelation. Despite being a posh gaff it’s the same crap on the telly so that stayed off. Had to endure five seconds of Eastenders audio before discovering they only showed the usual BB1, 2, ITV and Channel 4. They did have all the freeview chans. Just thought I’d tease you there for a bit but suspect it didn’t work.

Have yet to choose lunch and dinner options but let’s get breakfast out of the way first. Last night was the braised beef with dauphinoise spuds and veg and a nice gravy. V good. Wouldn’t have hurt to have more gravy but norra biggie. They probs called it jus not gravy which would justify the smaller portion. One of those dashes of sauce you’d see on mArseterchef. Might watch it now Greg Wallace isn’t on it to irritate me. Laaaavley. Pot noodle and chocolate mousse please.

Still another hour til breakfast. Gonna nod off for a bit. See ya.

…

Another flippin blood sample at seven. Had to point out to Ty, the American nurse from Philadelphia (an Eagles fan as was apparent from her lanyard) that for the purposes of NHS records my name was Huw Trefor Davies not Tref as the hospital has me down as. She was mildly disapproving but hey… Now she knows. I only mentioned it because the different nurse who took the blood yesterday came back to me to confirm my name as the place they store blood didn’t recognise me. Would having the name Huw Trefor Davies on the door of the suite make it look more Presidential? Dunno.

For some reason Ty didn’t use the cannula but went for a fresh hole, so to speak! Then she had an issue finding the end of the tape she used to hold down the bit of cotton wool on the “wound” and had to get a new one out of the plastic box. First world problems. Told her we are Chiefs fans in our family. If you don’t know you’ll have to look them up. Patrick Mahomes.

No point in trying to nod off again now and I have a small room light on instead of the reading light over the bed which switched itself off at seven am. Must be a setting somewhere as a nurse had to click something to set it up on the remote control/attendant caller. 

I keep finding the little plastic sticky things they must have used to hold down tubes or cables during the op. Will have to wait until I shower to see if they’ve all been retrieved. They obviously don’t count them in the way they count swabs to make sure they’ve removed them all before finally stitching you up after the op. That’s three so far, all of which were stuck to hairy bits of body. Ouch.

Turned out the light switch off was down to a generator test and it works now. When you think about it, having a backup power source for a hospital, especially the operating theatre is hugely important. More so even than at a datacentre. I’d be interested in seeing the spec for their setup inc UPS innit. My reading light obviously didn’t qualify to be hooked up to the UPS. Presumably there will be one or two UPS connected sockets in each room as well as the majority of the operating theatre. I assume my bacon is cooked on gas, baby. Seeing as they seem to mostly use paper in hospitals the data centre generator hook up feels less important here. The billing system can wait.

The bacon btw isn’t turning up until eight. This is the timing for cooked food. If you are v hungry go for the cereal and croissants at seven thirty. I’ll wait. I should have mentioned the brown sauce when the nurse came in to check on me. She wasn’t really the right person.

They all have different colour uniforms depending on the job they do. I think the dark blue ones are the fully qualified people. The ones that can stick a needle in you. Skilled job that. Not totes sure. I don’t mind what colour uniform brings the tea but I’d quite like the breakfast to be cooked by a chef in whites wearing a proper chef’s hat. Why not?

Coincidentally another nurse has just been in for yet another check and she has noted the fact that I want brown sauce with my breakfast and will add it to the manifest. Swat I call service. This check was to see if I’d had the blood sugar “done”. The previous related blood cross matching. At least I think that’s how Ty described it. 

I’ve also decided to properly get dressed this morning. Might even have a shave. Figured I wouldn’t shave yesterday as it was the medical equivalent of a match day and you may know that I never shave on a match day. All a new adventure in the life of Tref. Funny to think that getting dressed is something you have to think about. My chavvy tracksuit bots beckon. 

Actually the tracky bots are proper Cotton Traders ones that might grace a gym or rugby field and not the stripey satiny jobs on show in Tesco and the high street so I doubt anyone will raise an eyebrow. Showing my colours now. Navy blue.

Also just noticed that the dangly tubes sticking out of the cannula are now neatly clipped onto the bit of plastic attached to the needle. Must have been done by one of the nurses. Quite possibly the one who topped up the antibiotics in my arm as she used the cannula. Should have spotted it before but at least now I know.

Annoyingly, I can’t remember her name. She is also doing her family tree and we had a nice chat on the subject.

A blow by blow account of hospital life with only the deets of the operation missing as not only would they be too gory, some of us being v squeamish, but also I was not conscious at the time. Doubt they’d have let me take my dirty laptop in anyway. Excuse me but was that a scalpel or a forceps? Tap tap tap. Wouldn’t have had anywhere to prop up the laptop anyway.

Switched the Radio 4 news on and landed right in the middle of Thought for the Day. Aargh. Turned the volume down temporarily. I don’t even like listening to the news but it is a bit of background noise. Not long until breakfast now.

…

Rapid progress here. Xray done – see pic.  Physios have signed me off to go home. However Rob is picking me up tomorrow, THG has gone to Uncle Bill’s funeral in Liverpool and there are still drugs to be dispensed and tests to be made. Also seeing Mr M tonight when he’s finished cutting.  I’m not going anywhere. Not often I get to stay in a Presidential Suite. There are two apaz. The other is called the Royal Suite. Probs. I made that one up. The receptionist made the Presidential Suite up though other members of staff have confirmed it to be the case.

Back in the suite a cup of tea has arrived and then I will commence the cleansing. SSS. My first post op job, so to speak.

The three esses have been seen to, I’m dressed (blessed are the dressed) and sat comfortably in my usual armchair. Feel much better for the shower and clean clothes. Next up infusion of antibiotics and then they will remove the cannula. It’s starting to get in the way now. No more plastic stickers found on my body.

Overhearing a conversation in the corridor re someone else’s hip – “it’s not dislocated but moved slightly”. Mine seems to have all gone to plan and I’m told my recovery is better than the average. yay, hooray, bravo etc. Still a long way to go but the perceived wisdom is fully recovered in 6 weeks time. It will take longer to get to full strength I’m sure but all heading in the right direction. Phew. No fat lady singing sounds yet. One step at a time, literally.

Having the suite door open is good for a change. Lots of sounds of people. Things being wheeled around. Not just beds and chairs. Lots of trolleys. A member of staff just walked past sliding her shoes along. Before I could see who it was I thought it must be a punter but no. Come on love, walk properly.

Been having good chats with the staff. It’s “me duck” around here just like in Lincoln and dinner, not lunch. I am able to simultaneously translate, multilinguist that I am. Chicken Ceasar Salad ordered with bananas and honeycomb ice cream for pud. Yup. The honeycomb comes recommended.

Bit sore this pm. Ramping up the pain killers that I’ll be taking home. They’ve been giving me one does at a time to see what is needed. Looks like all of them. Spent the morning in the chair and the afternoon on the bed.

Suspect they will also be giving me the laxative at some stage – don’t want to put you off. At least my forearms appear to have stopped itching. The antiviral shower gel they gave me to use for 5 days before the op was quite abrasive stuff and gave me a dose of eczema on the arms. Never had it before. Gone now. Sgood innit.

Spent much of the afternoon doing family tree stuff. There really are only two sources of information for the times I am looking at. One is through church related publications and the other is based on stuff written about the gentry. We are defo the former and I have a clue about a marriage that could hook me up with estate owners. I’m trying to firm up on this but not yet got the right amount of evidence. These estate owners were also v religious which is a help and is likely to be how the “happy couple” met.

Stay tuned. Might be a while yet.

In other news the Caesar salad was a bit heavy on the olives but I guess that comes with the territory. Banana was on the small side and not totally ripe but hey… I’m not complaining.  Tonights delicacy is “Chunky Cottage Pie, the chunkiness being down to the use of braised steak instead of mince. Posh ere…

There is news. After pottering around on my laptop for a goodly chunk of  time this morning a nurse, who shall remain nameless mainly because I’ve seen a lot of them and I can’t remember her name, collected me to “walk” to the radiology department for an xray. Mr M wanted some measurements taking which sounds sensible to me (nurse I’ll have the ¾” stem with flange support please).

One quick flash later, so to speak, and another nurse intercepted out gentle limp back to the room and said they were ready for me. Scalpels sharpened, hacksaw cleaned and disinfected from the previous project.

Didn’t have much time to think about it and I was soon sat on the edge of a bed waiting for Dr Brown the anaesthetist to rock up. A good lad. The plan, as you know, was an injection into the spine. Problem was old Dr B couldn’t find the way in. Kept hitting bone. After me doing an impression of a pin cushion for 5 mins or so we decided that rather than risk hitting a nerve or similar I’d have a general anaesthetic.

This worked well. There were no problems and had the benefit of me being totally unaware of what was going on. I woke up a couple of hours later somewhere that wasn’t the operating theatre and made it back to the room perhaps thirty mins later. No idea really of timeframes.

There followed a string of visitors, taking measurements, making notes and, importantly, bringing my BLT, cup of tea and two packs of Bourbon biscuits. I repeat, two packs of Bourbon biscuits. Physiotherapy followed and I am proud to say that with the aid of crutches I was able to walk out of the room to the other side of the corridor and back. A princely distance of ten to twelve metres.

I then sat on the edge of the bed and had a wee into a cardboard bottle, as you do. Took me ages. Won’t go into the details  but I suspect all the stuff they’ve been pumping into my body was a contributory factor. Ws ok once it got going, started to flow so to speak. Nurse Julie then took this away and weighed it. They are monitoring fluid input and output.

Julie also brought me another pot of tea and a third packet of Bourbons declaring that this was their last pack of said biscuits. Don’t believe her. Will put it to the test later on. Digestives would be an acceptable alternative.

At four pm I feel that recovery is underway. Clearly the hip is going to take some time but I’m gaining a little more confidence that the process will be speedier than first thought.

More as I think of it or as it happens, ish.

Nurse Flo breezed in, at ten past two in the morning, wheeling the apparatus of her trade before her! Blood pressure monitor, pulse  monitor, stuff like that. Actually I don’t really know what her name was. The light she switched on was dazzling and I’d just been woken up. Then she said “ah you haven’t had your operation yet. I don’t need to do you until the morning”. She switched the light off and left. I took a swig of water and went back to sleep.

Six thirty and I’m listening, ish, to the wireless. Had me shower. Gowned up and ready.

Under the knife at 9.45. 2nd on. Nurse has been around. Anaethetist has been round. I now have two hours to kill. Guess it could have been worse. Could have been on later this afternoon.

I have to say I am a little apprehensive, as much as anything about the post operative recovery process but I am in the hands of the best in the business and the hip does badly need doing (as opposed to needs doing badly). The surgeon, Mr Manktelow, is very clinical, excuse the pun so it should be ok.He has been round. Put an arrow on my right thigh. Says the ink will disappear in between a year and eighteen months!

Outside it is a grey February day. The sloping rooftop I see through the window has multiple aerials silhouetted against the sky. They certainly aren’t all TV aerials. Who uses a TV aerial these days. Mind you we have one inside our roofspace. A legacy from the days of dial up internet access. A time where websites would sometimes take minutes to load.

A window cleaner has just rocked up and brushed my window with one of those long brushes that squirt water. All the drips now need wiping off. I wonder if they bother.

This morning is a time for calmness and relaxation to get mentally prepared.

BLT ordered for when I get out of theatre btw. With a sachet of brown sauce.

Apaz the injection makes you numb from just below the breast plate down. The process is a needle in the wrist to relax you. Then a local anasthetic at the base of the spine before injecting the main anaesthetic. At some stage they also give you something to make you drowsy so that you are only half awake 

…

Well I know this is boring mundane stuff to most of you but there is an update. Have stopped taking tea and bourbons – don’t want to spend half the night going to the loo and my blood sugars rocketed albeit temporarily. It isn’t something I normally look at. In fact I don’t normally look at anything except the occasional inspection of the bathroom scales.

My second postoperative wee was performed in the bathroom. Progress. Still into the cardboard flask so they can measure it. I assume they chuck the flask away afterwards!  Wossgoinon I hear you say? Bathroom? Where else would it be, apart from the hedge when camping n simlar. You already know about this afternoon sat on the bed.

So far I just walked to the wall outside the door so going to the bog is therefore big news.  Not that it’s any further. Just different. More progress.

Then Mr M came in for a quick chat and to say tata for the day. Asked me if I’d been doing the exercises and I informed him that’s what I was doing when he came in. I showed him. More he said, more. So I did more and after he’d left continued on a fairly regular basis even during phone calls.

Wow what a difference. I can already bend that knee far more than at anytime during the last few months. Yet more progress. I am pretty bullish that this op is going to make a mahoosive difference. It’s only when you lose it that you realise how important mobility is.

Now sat in the armchair watching Man City v Real Madrid. Sort of. Really I’m writing this. Occasionally a nurse will pop in for something. Keep having to remember new names. They do wear a badge. Badges. Man City just scored. Unlike some I support UK based teams when they play in Europe whereas others might do otherwise especially if the club is a rival back home.

So it’s been a fairly momentous first day at the Park Hospital. Second if you count the complimentary stay last night. Momentous day in my life really. The next challenge is to get fully fit again and make sure I take advantage of the regained mobility. And I’m not just talking about walking to the pub.

The other near term challenge is to get through tonight. I’m supposed to sleep only on my back. Ole Mr M doesn’t want to stress the joint for the first few days. I normally sleep on my side as apaz, and I totes dispute this, I have a tendency to snore when lying on my back. Huh. Anyway, see how it goze. I’ll let you know obvs. If I remember.

Typing in hospital does present some challenges. The plastic name band on my right wrist keeps catching on the edge of the macbook.  My left hand has a cannula sticking out of the back with loose tubes that move about in a mildly irritating dangly fashion as the hand traverses the keyboard. First world problems. They’ve taken the band off my left ankle. Can’t remember its purpose but something important obvs. Probably just said “left”. Even top surgeons can get mixed up sometimes yanow. Maybs.

Gonna be another busy day tomorrow. More physio n stuff unknown. Have ordered a full English to start the day. Set meself up for the activity that will naturally follow. I am given to understand that I will also be able to take a shower as the covering to the stitches is waterproof. We will see how that one goes.

I guess I’m going to have to learn to dress myself at some point and tomorrow seems like a good time to start. Not allowed to bend the hip yet so no bending down but have one of those grabbers so that might do the job. Unsure whether it is a pyjama day or tracksuit. I look pretty chavvy in the tracky bots but hey who cares. It’s all about comfort right now, man.

Thassenough for now. Ciao amigos.

A February wind blows no good. Stay warm. This is the time of year to be at your villa in da Caribbean. Come back when the land wakes up, when new growth brings hope. 

Let’s hope we have a good harvest this year. The coffers still have plenty from last season but inroads are gradually being made into the store. Levels are slowly decreasing. I’m thinking blackberries here.

I am writing this stuff whilst listening to music on hold which now getting a bit repetitive. Occasionally there is a pause making you think that you are about to be out through to someone but thus far the only outcome has been a message asking me to “please stay on the line and we will put you through to one of our team as soon as we can, thanks for holding”. Eight and a half minutes thus far. My record is well over an hour queuing. American Airways. Airlines? Them anyway.

Took until nearly seven o’clock to finally get the authorisation code from the health insurance company. They approved it once and seemed to have cocked up somewhere along the line. All’s well that ends well.

…

My out of office is on most of the time but it really is on for the next few days. There’s an old Tony Hancock joke that talks about hospital food always being mince and in fact there is chunky cottage pie on the menu here. I, however, had Seared Chicken Breast served on a bed of Crushed Potatoes, Honey and Mustard Carrot and Parsnip, Kale with a Rich Jus. Their capitalisations. Apple crumble and custard to finish. All good fair play. No sign of any chips though I will double check for tomorrow night. Probs can’t guarantee to keep them hot.

No brekkie tomorrow though and not even any liquids after midnight as I recall. I’ll have to check that one. Just did. Last fluids 6am.

Got an Uber here in the end. It was crap weather and didn’t see why THG should have to spend 2 ½ hours in the car especially as our Tom was arriving at four from da smoke. The Uber driver was very much into cryptocurrency fwiw. Bitcoin is currently at ninety seven thousand he told me. Dollars I said.

I’m now chillin in the Presidential Suite at the hospital. My name is on the door. I had to sign a piece of paper saying it was ok to have my name on the door. Presidential Decree. I’ve had a procession of nurses coming in and out. Mostly doing stuff they would otherwise have to do in the morning but it did include taking blood samples so that they have my blood type on standby tomorrow in case it’s needed! The nurses all go home at eight, which is about now. I assume they must leave someone on duty. “Your turn Doreen.” Florence.

The other punters all arrive at seven tomorrow morning. I figured a relaxed evening in the Presidential Suite was going to be a lot easier than not getting any sleep at home wondering whether the alarm clock was about to go off and then setting off at five thirty. Arriving the night before defo avoids the crush at rush hour. Think of the melee in reception. Tripping over each others’ crutches and walking sticks.

Not worked out transportation home. Taxi for sure. Maybs an Uber. Don’t know when yet. Depends on recovery time. THG has to go to her Uncle Bill’s funeral. I’d have liked to have gone. UB was, when in the prime of life, an all in wrestler. He and I used to get on v well. Ended his career as a welder in the Birkenhead shipyards. The Rose and Crown in Bebington was a particular favourite of his. Great pub. Worth the trip. You can take in The Lady Lever Art Gallery in Port Sunlight at the same time.

The times they are a changing. The old guard moving on. RIP Uncle Bill.

In the meantime it is too early to think about going to bed. There is a telly in the suite but I very rarely turn on the telly when staying in a Presidential Suite. Prefer the hot tub and room service. Just checked. No hot tub here. That’s ok. I’ll just spend my time writing out Executive Orders.

I might even read a bit more of my book. Rebecca Riots.

How do you like your eggs in the morning? Just heard a short burst of the song on the Paddy O’Connell show on the wireless and now I can’t get it out of my head. Slightly annoying. I’m not even having eggs for breakfast. If I did they would either be poached or fried, sunny side up depending on how I feel, but I’m not.

Turned Paddy off anyway. All he talks about is politics, mostly. THG likes his prog.

…

Wearing thin summery socks in these last few days before the op. Saving my winter woolly ones for afterwards. They will be easier to get on post op as I won’t be able to bend for a while and I’ve got this contraption that supposedly helps with putting socks on. Karen said it was rubbish and no use when she had the same op but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve also got tracksuit bottoms (v chavvy) and some sort of loose fitting cotton kecks plus two “grabbers” we had left over from Beyond The Woods that would come in handy.

A cold and miserable February morning out. Thank gawd for central heating and double glazing. I don’t know what the weather is like in Rome but the odds are against it being anything but miserable if you are a travelling Welsh rugby supporter. And I am normally an optimist. Glass half full. At least they can go and get blessed by the Pope on Sunday morning and buy some tatty souvenirs. Rome knows how to milk tourists. V expensive as I recall.

Anyway back in a cold and miserable Lincoln the kitchen is at least brightly lit. THG busies herself. I need to decide on breakfast choices. Perhaps a simple bacon and mushroom sandwich on sourdough toast. Elegance. With a fresh pot of tea. That shall be it. The breakfast of kings. 

There is a choice of bacon: dry cured back, smoked back and unsmoked streaky. I have opted for the smoked and it is currently under the grill. Not fried. The bacon has been started before the toast as the latter takes less time to grill. We no longer have a functioning toaster and although it is still in place on the worktop this will be remedied at the earliest opportunity. The recycling centre beckons.

I was umming and ahing whether to indulge in a glass of beer or two during the rugby this afternoon. Big op forthcoming on Tuesday. A decision has been made to go for it. The last session with this hip. Who knows what lies beyond.

Bacon sarnie was good. Cup of tea was good. Let’s get ready for the day ahead.

Taking a moment or two to sit down in the snug with a cup of tea before starting the day. The next steps do include the cleansing process discussed yesterday. I have also taken to shaving on a daily basis, fwiw. I realise this doesn’t make me look as rugged as usual but you do have to look after yourself innit. Can’t let standards fall. You won’t be seeing me in a tie anytime soon though. I do possess a boxful that havent seen a neck in decades.

This morning I finished lifting all the tithe data from Llanfihangel Ar Arth (the 1841ish record). Quite interested to see who owned how much land in the area and how many acres were farmed by which tenant. There are quite a few tenant farmers in the Davies history. You can follow the progress of Davies offspring marrying people living on adjacent or nearby farms. They were pretty much all Davieses, Evanses or Joneses with a Phillips or two thrown in for good measure.

I came across a Colonel  John Thomas Weymiss owning lands in the area. No  relation and I wonder whether he ever visited the place. He had 273 acres, give or take a gnat’s eyebrow, including a pub. If it was me I would at least have visited once just to check out the pub. I found a Thomas James Weymiss who was Colonel of the Leicestershire Regiment and became a Lt General with Order of the Bath. Might have been him. These guys typically had a lot of first names. If it was him it seems unlikely he would ever have visited. Just inherited it as part of an estate. Ended his days in Bath. V nice. Probably quite a crusty old geezer, young feller me lad.

Anyway you’ll be able to read all about it in the book someday 🙂 Maybe not the Colonel. Dunno.

…

Now on hold to the health insurance company. They called to say my claim had not been approved yet so I quoted them from the letter saying it had been approved and giving me details of the treatment that was covered. This has now totally confused them and having passed on this info I have been listening to music on hold for at least ten minutes.

The upshot is that the insurance company has dropped a bollock on this and I’m now scrabbling around to get it sorted. Not helped by the fact that the surgeon only works at this particular hospital on a Tuesday and his secretary doesn’t work Fridays!!!

…

Packed in early. It is Friday after all. TGI eh? Now watching a documentary about Confucious. Seen it before but don’t mind watching again. Improving the mind innit. Plus there’s bugger all else on I want to watch.

Quiet night in for Tref and THG. We will find something to do. Talk to each other 🙂 Fairly busy weekend ahead what with the rugby and then off round to the vicar’s for Sunday lunch. The one time we had a new vicar round here for lunch, maybe 20 years ago, I dropped the leg of lamb in his lap. Made a bit of an impact. No idea what lies in store food wise on Sunday. Doubt the fatted calf has been killed. Who nose?

Anyway gotta get through the rugby first. Somewhat worried about the Italy v Wales game. Everyone else in the room will be there for the England v France match. England fans one and all. I’ll sit there quietly nursing a beer, or two. I don’t particularly want France to win although if, as is fairly likely, they could do so by a margin greater than the thrashing the gave Wales that would be appreciated.

Now watching a bit of Deep Purple on YouTube. Got a bit bored with Confucious even though it was Bethany wotsername doing the talkie bits. Saw her at the Hay on Wye Literary Festival last year. Didn’t buy her book. She wanted twenty five quid for it! 

Not bought any tickets yet this year. The early bird announcements didn’t really jump out of the page, shake me by the lapel and say pick me, me, me. It is perfectly acceptable in my mind to sit around all day drinking coffee (or beer) discussing matters literary, pronounced lit er rary. Gilbert and Sullivan almost certainly wrote a song about the experience. 

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Got a good one for you. THG came back from LIDL. Said she noticed a trail of cream on the floor going all round the store. Turns out it was from a carton of cream in her trolley. The carton was by now empty. It had split open  and dripped all around the shop.

Hard frost out there. I know you like to know about these things. Saves you looking. Nice warm pair of socks needed. Even if you aren’t going out. Wear what you like. I’m not your dad. Probs – certain exclusions apply.

So I’m tuned in to Radio Cymru to hear an exciting announcement by the National Library of Wales on the programme that starts at nine ey em. No idea what it’s going to be about but I’m sure it will be exciting. Saw it trailed on Facebook. Far more interesting than socks.

More as I write it…

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Just had a call from the hospital and it is all systems go for the hip hop next Tuesday. They are letting me in the afternoon before so  we don’t have to get up before dawn to get there for 7am. In the meantime I’ve started the “decontamination process”. Been given anti bug shower gel and some nasal gel to kill off MRSA n simlar.

In other news, and I can’t specifically remember how i came across it but I was lying in bed using my device when the subject of Epicurian Philosophy came up. This notionally involved looking at everyday things as being the source of happiness. I figured I could identify with this so delved into the subject a bit further.

My AI butler Gemini told me that Epicureanism is a philosophical system that emphasizes finding happiness through simple living, moderation, and community. It was developed by the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus (341–270 BCE). Somehow THG knew the dates off by heart!

Anyway I liked the idea and even more delving (Wikipedia) suggested Epicureanism is a form of hedonism insofar as it declares pleasure to be its sole intrinsic goal. It gets better and better. However I’m not so sure that the hedonistic aspect of Epicureanism involves drinking lots of fine champagne, eating caviar and other activities that one might be associated with living it up and having a good time.

I figure a hybrid approach is therefore the optimal solution. Whatever you decide my philosophy is that I don’t know why we are here so I might as well have a good time whilst I am at it.

And finally, for now. Our toaster has at last completely packed up. The bread won’t stay down. Nobody will lament its passing. In fact, although I’ve been promoting the benefits of using the grill to toast bread, I think I will in any case buy a replacement toaster. Belt and braces.

The passing of the toaster sits with other end of an era events that have been witnessed of late. The first was the closure of the dairy and therefore the ending of milk deliveries. 

Then THG’s dad’s slide projector was deemed past it. The bit that inserted and withdrew the slides was irreparably broken, or at least it was beyond sensible repair. A “new” projector has been sourced and is up and running.

Finally we chopped down the diseased apricot tree that was growing near the back door. It produced very little fruit and is now sat seasoning in burnable sized bits on the log pile. The removal of the apricot tree has made the space near the back door much lighter and whilst there is a mild tinge of regret here as it came from a seed produced by THG’s dad we are not, on balance, unhappy with the outcome. THG is now going to grow sweet peas on the wall by the back door.

End of one era, the beginning of another.

Clicked on an ad for socks. This was a mistake. Firstly they were very expensive socks. Then I keep getting pushed ads for socks. Ah well. I think I lament the passing of the tradition of reading the paper. Might have seen the occasional random sock advert (selling random socks obvs – the “random” aspect is not clear to me at this time) therein but nothing too in your face. I may even have made a mental note to look up the particular brand of footwear the next time I went anywhere near a shop. A purveyor of fine knitted products.

I wonder whether you could buy socks in “Exchange & Mart”. Doesn’t sound like the sort of publication that would carry that kind of line. Just looked. It’s all cars. Maybe it was ever thus. Dunno. At least it’s still going. Successfully made the transition to digital. Fair play.

Anyway I don’t need more socks but if I saw a pair I particularly liked the look off I’m not saying I wouldn’t buy it. Final answer.

Bright albeit slightly cloudy out. THG, who is stood up and has a slightly different view of the garden, tells me it is also frosty. Going to be a nice day apaz. Great stuff. Lifts you doesn’t it.

The news on the wireless, which has just been switched off because it was getting a bit repetitive, is all political stuff. Even THG, who is interested in this stuff, decided enough is enough. Also the Aga Khan died apaz. Didn’t know him. 

Years ago when the queen mother died I was in Boston Ma. When I checked out of the hotel the receptionist asked me where I was from. Having been informed she offered me her condolences. I asked why and she said “why on the death of the queen mom of course”. She couldn’t understand why I laughed so I had to inform her that I didn’t know the queen mom. She certainly wouldn’t have wanted to know me.

I had to scroll quite a long way down the BBC website before finding something that I might half want to click on. It was an article on “why your frying pan should be your most used kitchen tool”. Didn’t actually read the piece but it sounds more like my kind of thing than talk of wars and orange coloured buffoons. I might pop back later for a good read, if I remember.

I clicked on the link. A bit disappointing if I’m honest. Felt as if it was commissioned by a cookery editor desperate to fill some space. Don’t get me wrong. I am a fan of the frying pan. I use De Buyer cast iron jobs. They are da business. I may consider changing to a lighter pan for Shrove Tuesday which ain’t until March this year. A lighter pan should mean an easier toss. Important when you are doing six or seven pancakes. Plus whatever anyone else is having.

Man can live on pancakes alone. Plus crispy duck, and bacon sandwiches. Nothing like having a varied diet. If you were wondering about veggies there are spring onions and cucumber in with the duck. Also at a push you can have sliced tomatoes in your bacon sandwich though I wouldn’t meself. Not at breakfast time anyway. And lettuce!

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The Aga Khan btw must have been quite old as he features in “Where do you go to my lovely” by Peter Sarsted. As you know that song was was released in 1969 so unless the ole AK was only a kid at the time, which I doubt, he must have made it to a good age, fair play.

Just finished my stretching exercises in advance of the hip hop when thought for the day came on the wireless. Great timing I thought. My departure downstairs, where the radio was not switched on, was made even more timely as it turned out the thinker of the day, and I’ve just invented that one,  started talking about politics. Wot! Doesn’t he know you should never talk about religion and politics in a pub?

Ok ok I wasn’t in a pub but the same principle applies. I don’t mind having Bishops in the house of lords as I never listen to any of them anyway. They should bung the odd imam and rabbi in for good effect, Maybe they already do. No idea. 

When I say ‘odd’ imam I don’t mean odd as in strange. I just meant any suitable imam that was to hand. Hanging around hoping to be picked maybe. Just like when you used to get picked for teams in games lessons. Remember? For balance I could just have easily said odd bishop or rabbi. I daresay some of them are odd. We’ve certainly seen one or two resignations of late. Not just Catholics.

My advice to all thought for the day hopefuls is not to overthink it. Keep it simple. That way you will be more likely to get your message across to the politicians. Just because more people voted for them than the other candidate doesn’t mean they understand anything. Difficult words, complicated things, yanow. The difference between good and bad. Won’t be applying meself.

The 1921 census has just been released for perusal. I dunno if you’ve looked at it but there seems to be less info in it than in previous years. No address for example. Actually I just turned over the page and it is on the back. Silly me. Some of the earlier censuses were one pagers which is what got me.

Was looking at Talgoed in Llanfihangel ar Arth. Farmed by at least five generations of Davieses. Possibly more as I haven’t been able to find any deets about the first one, yet and the last was not married so unless a brother took over the business that’s where it all ended. They were tenant farmers and during the second world war the business was run by the government so am thinking that was it. The second and the last farmers were both a Daniel. The first might have been a Benjamin or an Evan. Not sure yet. I will keep you posted though.

The names of children repeat down the generations. John, Evan, David, Daniel, Mary, Sarah, Margaret. Some might say this lacked imagination but I say to you if they are good names why not use them. Solid names. In reality they would not have been called those names. Certainly Evan would have been an Ifan and David a Dafydd. Mary would have been Mair. Meri maybe.

At six forty five dawn began to make an appearance to the east, across the allotment gardens over our back fence. Nature, I assume, is beginning to stir. I know for sure the birds will be cranking up the volume. An invisible sun creates a reddish tinge low down over the Lincoln edge, the other side of the Witham valley gap. At eight forty five the sky is now a dull characterless February grey. 

We are sat quietly in the kitchen. Breakfast eaten and a cup of tea brewing. Another day ahead. I did pour some tea but it wasn’t quite ready so I’ve left the pot a bit longer. 

Real time stuff this. It isn’t possible to post your whole life in real time although James Joyce did that with Ulysses. Also your whole life isn’t necessarily of interest to anyone else. Long periods of bugger all with the occasional bit of excitement thrown in as a reward. Visits to the barber, holidays in the Caribbean, the award of a knighthood for services to shed. Stuff like that. No I haven’t got anything to tell you regarding a knighthood.

I have extended warranty on my washing machine. I need to use it when I need it. I only use mine when it’s filled up. Overheard in Waitrose.

Sunday. The sabbath. A day of rest. THG has given me a job to do 🙂 Sokay. I don’t mind. We are a team. It involves screwing a hook into the ceiling in the porch. I expect I’ll be able to get it done.

There are some unknown factors in this equation. Firstly I’ll have to find a hook. I’m sure I have some but will need to dig out the relevant box. The one with the odds and sods in. Hooks, picture hooks, staples, stuff like that. Cable clips.

Then we are assuming the ceiling will want to take a hook. I’m fairly sure it’s just plywood in the porch but until I’ve looked and subsequently screwed the hook in it ain’t done. The Fat Lady will not have sung although she can be reasonably certain of making an appearance. If I were her I wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not nipping out to the shops or anything. 

The only issue is when TFL will be needed to perform and that I cannot say. After breakfast has been cooked and consumed and then the three esses have been seen to. While THG is out at church for sure. Didn’t shave yesterday btw as it was a match day and who shaves before a game? I will today.

Breakfast is bacon and soresedge. This is quite convenient as THG used up the last of the current batch of blackberries on her porridge and there would have been none available for yo’ gurt and gran o’la. Don’t worry there are more in the freezer. 2024 was a good year for blackberries. Sokay. I’ll flesh out the meat with some egg, mushrooms, tomato and might even open a can of beans. I will then last until dinner time. Probs.

Anyway that is all to come. I am not in any great rush on this particular sabbath and am comfortably ensconced in the snug awaiting the pot of tea that THG has very generously offered to make.

The slow start to the day has partly been occasioned by a rugby afternoon/evening around at the Smiths. Great hospitality. I am pretty sure it resulted in quite an early night due to the start of said hospitality being at around three in the afternoon – half time of the Scotland Italy game. 

I must say both THG and I quite liked the new Italy rugby jerseys. V designer. Produced with the Milan Fashion Show in mind no doubt. Probs. The England kit however was not to our liking. Really they should all go back to good old fashioned plain and simple shirts. Then we wouldn’t have to have this debate on whether this year’s design is any good or not. As it happens I’m not that bothered. If England want to go all season in a rubbish looking kit that’s their lookout. Huh! Money grabbing commercialism!

Neither Italy nor England won the rugby which goes to show that the design of the jersey makes no difference whatsoever. They can stick as many go fast stripes as they like on the shirts but it won’t help them win. I guess there could be a psychological element to it. Motivational. Didn’t work. They will this morning be waking up thinking “I wish we had a better design of kit”. The England team will anyway. The Italians will be wondering what went wrong, what with the kit being great and all that. Too much spaghetti. Probs. Not before the game hopefully. Who eats before a game?

All in all a mixed set of sporting results over the weekend. Ireland and Scotland won with my erstwhile protege Huw Jones scoring a hat trick (by all means ask) but Wales got hammered by France. Ah well. Liverpool also won but Lincoln lost. Never mind. It’s only a game. THG and I may well watch the Arsenal game this af. We are after a draw, or at a push a Man City win.

There is another job to do this morning and that is to switch on the printer in the shed. THG has a postage label she needs printing off. I keep the printer switched off to avoid light pollution in the garden at night. The blinking light is annoying. The fact that there is a sixteen port switch in there flashing away like Piccadilly Circus is neither here nor there as I can’t see those LEDs. They are in the corner and hidden by the shed wall.

Someone over the allotments out the back leaves a light on all night which seems v unnecessary to me. Also some knob of an allotment holder has a string of solar powered lights that come on automatically when it gets dark. Why? There is nobody around at night time in the allotments. It just adds to the light pollution. Dark is what we like. Dark. So do owls.

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The hook is in btw though there wasn’t much board to provide purchase. It’s tucked away in the corner anyway and will very rarely be touched so hopefully ok.

I shall be heading to Waitrose this morning for a few store cupboard essentials: essence of kumquat, organic asparagus, olives picked at dawn from the southern slopes of Mount Etna. Stuff like that. Thence to the caff if anyone fancies a cawfee.

Actually the only item on my list right now is milk and THG reminds me that I’ve not used my new grapefruit spoon in a while so I might as well chuck one of those in. Before I go I will need to check the aforementioned store cupboard to assess stock levels. Although not high on the list of priorities I did notice that we had no granulated sugar. I only found this out during the week when Tom the Tree Man’s sidekick asked for sugar in his coffee and I found that there was only one teaspoon’s worth left in the jar when four were required. It was a double sized insulated mug, in case you consider four to be excessive. In my mind one teaspoon is excessive but hey…

Otherwise, purchasing ideas will jump off the shelves as I wheel the trolley by. Isn’t that how it works. I know that we have no tinned plum tomatoes so they will be on the list. We do have chopped tomatoes but they are not sufficiently versatile. For a full English, whole tomatoes are required. It is easy enough to chop them up if, for other dishes, the wholeness matters not.