where art collides philosoperontap

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 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!!!

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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.

Taxi driver Tref this am. Dropping THG off at the gym and then picking her up after the classes to then drop her off downtown. Nobbut a small payback for everything she does for me. Let there be no doubt I am lucky to have her.

I am reminded of the time when one of the kids passed his driving test and was happy to provide lifts here, there and everywhere including coming to pick me up from Newark Northgate when there was a problem with the trains. One Saturday I rang at around lunchtime and asked if he could pick me up from The Lawn on Union Road. It was only a mile away but it was a cold day and I figured we would buy some coal en route. He grumpily got out of bed and drove round in his dressing gown. His Facebook status change to “xxx Davies is sick and tired of being treated like a taxi driver”. Ya gorra laugh. I’m sure I must have told that story before but it was worth repeating.

Amazingly, I have two conference calls this afternoon. For the last few years I have avoided any work on a Friday afternoon and often extended that policy to the whole day. Unfortunately Friday afternoons are also when folk typically keep their calendars free in order to wrap up the jobs from the week and are therefore when people are available to talk. I don’t mind.

I say “conference calls” but really they are just chats. Wossgoin on in your world then Fred? I sometimes sit in on the sales team meetings just to keep up with business but dip out when it gets boring as it often does. “Well I resubmitted the proposal and it is going to be looked at when he comes back from vacation”. Drone one, bebe.

Had dinner with the boys in Hickory’s Smokehouse last night. Burger. Didn’t eat all my food. Can’t say I recommend it and I woke up in the night with indigestion. Hmm. Maybe it was just me. Not used to carbs.

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En route from the gym drop off I noticed a woman walking along dressed in a skirt and open toed shoes with no socks. Now there is nothing unusual about this. The point is it was four degrees Centigrade according to the car. Amazes me how tough some people are. I’m wearing a pair of jeans and warm woolly Nordic socks. Maybe it’s me wots the wimp.

Another observation, as I drove in to Waitrose, was that their petrol station is undergoing major works. Keep forgetting to ask in the store wossapnin. If anyone knows then feel free to spill the beans. Clearly they are having a major upgrade as the garage is going to be closed for five weeks apaz, according to THG’s grapevine. That’s not the same grapevine as is growing around our bbq area, obvs. `What I’m after is more than just “they are replacing the tanks” or similar. I need to understand why they are replacing the tanks. If that’s what they are doing. I just used that as an example.

All I needed from Waitrose was some Rennie but bought a few other lunchy bits and had a cuppa in the caff. Twas quite empty. At nine fifteen ey am they were dishing up a lot of full English. Only ever managed a bacon roll or a croissant there meself. Tea with the bacon roll, latte with the croissant. That’s just how I (bacon) roll. 

THG safely dropped off near to M&S for a cawfee with her pal Rachel. I was at uni with Rachel’s husband Phil.

Frosty out there. We are reminded it is still January. A month of wooly jumpers and warm fire. And smashed avocado on sourdough toast with chopped walnuts, chilli, lime juice and a drizzle of very good balsamic vinegar on top. Side of bacon.

Grilled the toast alongside the bacon. The toast was ready first but I knew that would happen. It was an efficient use of facilities and the output of the toasting was better than had it been done in our crappy toaster.

We are waiting for Tom the Tree Man to rock up this morning. Annual hedge trim plus I’ve got a load of oak logs he gave us last year from a neighbouring job that need cutting down to size for further processing, ie splitting. V heavy they are.

The day ahead offers a mixed bag of entertainments. I have to redo a quote in Euros rather than the originally requested dollars. Then the search for eighteenth century marriage certificates will continue. 

The other day, in a Baptist publication, I discovered a fairly extensive obituary of my gggg grandfather the Reverend Daniel Davies of Penybont Chapel and Talgoed farm in Llanfihangel ar Arth. Wow what a guy. Moreover the obit gave me names I didn’t have, the fact that his wife Anne was a Jones not a Harry and a couple of daughters about which I had known nothing. No names but I’ll find them.

Anne Jones was the daughter of a local schoolmaster called, unsurprisingly, Mr Jones of Maesnoni farm. It might have helped had his first name been given but I guess schoolteachers have never been known by their first names. It’s a bit like the fact that my hip surgeon is an Andrew but everyone calls him Mr Manktelow. Doesn’t feel right to me but who am I to say?

Anyway details of Mr Jones the farming schoolmaster remain as yet undiscovered but he is my ggggg grandfather and at least I have something to go at. We are back to the 1720s ish here and records in Wales become scarce. Fortunately as a deeply religious crowd I have a fighting chance. The period under investigation is a time in history where even published historians talk about there being very little written information about an individual if he or she was not of the Gentry.

Turns out that Daniel had two brothers who became vicars of the Established Church and another who crossed over to the Independents and was minister at the church of that denomination in Aberhonddu (Brecon). A cousin, Thomas Phillips was also an Independent Minister at Neuaddlwyd in Cardiganshire who established a famous school for church ministers and missionaries and was awarded a Doctorate of Divinity from a New York University. Hows about that. Daniel’s nephew John Phillip became a famous Welsh Baptist orator and JP’s brother William was one of the first Baptist missionaries to South Africa. Hows about that then. Again.

Plenty of material there including lots of findable stuff online but none of them give me the name of Daniel’s father. One brother’s marriage cert was witnessed by an Evan Davies who could have been daddy but could also have been the Independent minister of Aberhonddu.

Daniel, btw, farmed 163 acres and was considered to be quite well off with a farmhouse that was described as extensive. I know where the ruin is and shall investigate. Didn’t look extensive when I visited in 2008 but there again it was overgrown by trees and I didn’t know to dig deeper, so to speak. Archaeologist Tref.

Tom the tree man is due to arrive any minute now so if this narrative draws abruptly to a halt you will know why. 

The other entertainment in prospect today is a trip to the golf driving range with the boys this evening. I won’t be able to hit a ball but we are off to Hickory’s for nosh afterwards. Until it was pointed out I hadn’t realised this was a branch of the Hickorys we’ve visited in Chester. Twas quite good as I recall but it is a long time since we visited.

The main issue with a place like Hickorys is carbs. I expect they have low carb options but temptation will definitely be dangled. I am generally being quite a good boy so the occasional consumption of carbohydrate is ok.

…

TtTM came, did his job and went. He does a good job does TtTM fair play. Two of them take half a day to do our hedges and other various jobs. When you think about it, if I had to do it all myself it would take a lot more than a day, even if my hip wasn’t buggered. He has all the right gear and a big trailer for the removal of branches and trimmings. Now have a yuge pile of logs ready for splitting at leisure. The smaller branches don’t need splitting.

I am now sat on a conference call, on mute with the camera turned off. Telecoms fraud n stuff. In the garden THG is beavering away, filling the green bin. We are planning to dedicate a chunk of veg patch to strawberries and using a bit of the lawn nearest the house for veg. Gets a lot of sun there so we figure the beans etc will do better in that spot.

Bit late with writing a post this morning. I like to start off with it but I had other priorities. Someone tipped me off to the possibility of finding ancestors in the press. I was somewhat sceptical of this as I’m looking at darkest Wales in the eighteenth century. I say darkest only in the sense that it was deep into agricultural territory where even now you can drive for half an hour with no mobile phone reception but see half a dozen red kites on the way which was my experience when on a family tree trip fourteen years ago.

Reality is that the area had very much seen the light by the end of the eighteenth century. Griffith Jones’ circulating schools had brought literacy to the masses over a hundred years before it happened in the rest of the British Isles. My own family was deeply religious and in just a couple of generations produced many ministers of religion.

It’s this divinity that did the job. Although the amount of press was limited at the time there were lots of religious journals and I found a lengthy obituary for my great (x4) Daniel Davies in a Baptist publication. Gave me lots of leads including to siblings hitherto unknown and to cousins that may provide clues as to Daniel’s parents. Also I had his wife down as Ann Harry but her name seemed to be Jones which probably explains why I have found bugger all about her.

Anyway I’ll keep you posted. I know you’ll be on the edge of your seats 🙂 

Old Daniel Davies’ obit also mentioned that he was very good looking which explains a lot dunnit 🙂 

Had a good sesh with the pre op nurse yesterday pm. All seems to be ok, amazingly touch wood, rabbits foot, ten leaf clover etc. The slightly interesting bit of news is that the pain killer they give you after the op is very strong morphine. Wow man. Also arranged to stay the night before the op. They want me there by 7am. I might as well make it easy for meself considering all the crap that lies ahead. 

I say crap but that should just be short term. 99% of the folk I’ve spoken to who have had the op have praised it as being transformational. Doubt I’ll ever run another marathon but there again, I hadn’t done that before anyway.

As I write fast jets keep buzzing the shed. I can’t see whether it is the red arrows or something based at RAF WAddington which is only two or three miles south of here. Trouble is experience tells me it is not worth dashing out to look as the jets will have flown out of sight by the time I get to the door. The Reds. Saw em at lunchtime.

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Nice night watching footy with THG in the snug. The Peul letting in too many goals. Not good enough defence. Only their second team.

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Getting a bit fed up with the lack of mobility. In truth there is nothing to stop me from taking the car when it is available but nowhere I particularly want to go. Less than two weeks until the op now.

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Got chromecast working on the Macbook. Had to disable “Use the network framework for local device discovery on Mac” in the experimental features section on Chrome. Didn’t even know there was an experimental features section let alone that I had it running. Must have clicked on something at some stage. It hasn’t given any gyp until now. Still it’s working now. Was a bit annoying especially when chromecast was working on every other device.