The hidden cost of a hip replacement. Just broke the lid on the butter dish dinneye. Was carrying it from the butcher’s block to the kitchen table whilst using my crutches and off it slipped. V dramatic. Lid smashed to bits and scattered all over the kitchen floor. Not the desired effect at all. THG looked on and said she sensed it was going to happen. One of those things you see in real time but can’t do anything about. Ah well.
We do have two butter dishes that get rotated as necessary when one needs a wash. We will have to keep an eye out for a new one. Not just any butter dish will do.
The other bit of news, and this must be considered to be real progress, is that I am writing this from the conservatory. Hitherto my only places to sit have been the armchair in the snug, a seat at the kitchen table (with a cushion) and the stool at the butcher’s block. My right arse cheek is sufficiently recovered that it makes sense to vary my places to sit during the day. As I approach the full weight bearing phase of recovery, currently T minus 8 sleeps, it makes sense to move around a bit more. Being sat in the armchair all day has had a knock on effect on muscle (as opposed to bone on bone hip) soreness that will have to be sorted before I can properly walk to the Morning Star again (or Post Office. Not using the armchair as much is going to help I’m sure.
The conservatory is a much better place to sit and write. There is no real reason why I shouldn’t have used it before other than it’s been bloody cold out. The conservatory is heated but I sense it would still have been relatively cold compared to the rest of the house. With the sun shining and spring in the air this is no longer the case.
One massive benefit is that the view has changed. Instead of having my back to the drive and the main road I am now looking out over the back garden, the greenhouse and the shed. Still not been to the shed yet. In fact not been out in the back garden since my op. That will change very soon.
The back lawn is in a bit of a state. It needs scarifying and vertidraining and likely some reseeding in patches. A combination of chafer bugs and not clearing all the leaves away from last autumn. As I write a squirrel bounds across the lawn. Lorra moss in there. That should read pesky squirrel although they haven’t given us a problem since they were ejected from the loft space.
We will see if we can get someone in to do the lawn. Someone with industrial strength kit. We don’t want Green Thumb because they want a regular monthly payment for coming 4 to 6 times a year. Green Thumb were good but when we started getting chafer bugs they said they couldn’t help so we cancelled the service as I couldn’t see the point of paying them if they couldn’t sort the problem. At the same time the area of lawn they were having to treat was getting smaller and smaller.
Yesterday I booked a cottage in West Wales at a farm called Cwmiar, Llanllwni. It was one on the family estate and the next one along to the main gaff Maesnoni. Very excited to be going there in April. Solo trip as this is all about research and meeting people.
Last night during a short period of wakeness (is that a word, it is now) I decided to peruse the Register of St Cynllo’s, the Parish Church of Llangynllo (obvious really although I did google it to check). I’ve been trying to find the family details of Thomas Jones, one of the sons of my 5g grandaddy John Jones of Maesnoni. The parish register at Llanllwni has a lot of missing years so it hasn’t been a particularly helpful place to look. I had found Tom’s brother John. He became the Rector of Llangynllo. There was also evidence that Tom himself was man of the cloth. Yesterday, or the day before, it is all somewhat hazy, I found a reference to Tom’s demise in Cenarth Parish (Kenarth in those days due to the Anglicisation insisted upon by English overlords).
The lad was vicar of Cenarth and the obituary, or the announcement of his demise, included a statement that he was buried in Llangynllo where all the Joneses of Maesnoni were interred. This was a big clue.
Anyway at 4am I found the burial record of Thomas Jones, in Llangynllo. Llangynllo is now on my itinerary for the West Wales trip. There may be lots of gravestones of interest. They are mostly not online. It suggests that the Joneses were originally from that part of the world and not Llanllwni where they ended up. The whole point is getting me further back in time. See how it goes innit.
PS THG has set off for her usual Monday morning weight training class. Good on her.
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Did some exercises in the kitchen using the butcher’s block for support and then donned my green pea jacket for this morning’s walk. Turned right for a change in the direction of the lamppost with the Openreach notice. The notice had already suffered from the ravages of the weather and was dangling at the back of the lamppost in a not particularly readable fashion.
As I approached the lamppost a guy came slowly towards me on a small skateboard which he was having to work as it was moderately up the slope. At first I thought he was wearing a WW2 German army helmet but as he got closer I could see it was a proper skateboarding helmet. Must be on the way to a skateboard park I thought though I’m not sure where there is one in Lincoln. I’m obvs not in the know. In that fraternity.
Considered walking to the next tree past the lamppost. This is roughly as far as the bus stop in the other direction but when I got to the Openreach pole that is subject to the now slightly battered announcement I decided to turn around and head back. As I was doing so a guy walked past me. Sounded as if he was talking to himself but I guess he might have been on the phone using his earbuds. Couldn’t see any buds as he sported a burgundy coloured beanie. He also wore black trainers, a pair of black shorts with two stripes down the side and a black hoodie, all a bit of a contrast with my green INEX hoodie and warm tweed jacket.
Approaching the drive I observed a couple standing at the bus stop. This is quite rare. Although still at some distance they looked of retired age. One clue was the fact that he was wearing a brown suit with a bright red tie. She had a matching bright red woolly looking coat with a beige shopping bag sporting red and orange hoops.
As I walked along he leaned out to see if the bus was coming and then turned around and scurried, half run half walk, up the road away from me and the bus stop to what would appear to be his car. Interesting. So people are using Wragby Road as a Park and Ride. No yellow lines and assuming they are pensioners a free bus ride into town. Don’t want to encourage this – can’t have people parking all the way down our road 🙂
Anyway I’m back in the snug with nicely glowing cheeks. Good to get out of the house innit.