domestic matters

BACK HOME after two weeks' break, which inevitably means engaging in sudden domesticity - especially interaction with the washing machine.  This of course means that the ironing pile has ballooned - I shall soon be once again waxing lyrical over it, I'm sure.

I also need to sort out the spare room so I can be all creative and inspiring.  Hmm.  I now have an in-tray / letter rack which is very exciting.  Does anyone else find stationery thrilling?  Or am I utterly alone (as well as utterly weird)?

Charlie (the rabbit, for newbies) is back with us - he  is getting quite elderly.  He has glaucoma in one eye which is advancing steadily - it's gone from mildly foggy to almost white.  His other eye is getting frequent infections and his hops are getting hobbly. He can no longer see the ramp in his hutch or have the confidence to navigate it - I board up the hole at night and put him in the upper level; during the day he either goes in his run (if weather is fine) or in the lower level (if weather is not fine).  While on his 'holiday' I repainted the  hutch.  It looked like this originally

and now looks like this, although I don't have a photo of the shabby in between - but trust me, it needed it.

The weather was rather mixed while we were away, but we were shattered so happy to be lazy.  It was nice to slow down my mind.

In the church office this morning sorting out this month's rota (for church services - worship leaders, techno, PA, etc); I'd done all I could quite early on so spent the rest of the time scribbling thoughts on memory for the book and reading the first chapter of Jesus in Disneyland by David Lyon, which I nicked off Andy's shelf.  Last time I read it was for my dissertation.  That feels a long time ago...

I hope you enjoyed the welcome and hospitality quotes I had posted in my absence.  Do you feel all welcomed out?!

memory lane: Molly & Dinah

It's been some time since I have ventured on a Wednesday's walk; what with Easter busy-ness and visitors and a whole oddment of things life seem to be scurrying by somewhat rapidly - time to breathe in and then - wait for it - breathe out.

Ransacking my mind for an appropriate memory which didn't involve too much coherency - not something I feel i have much of this evening - I settled on one for all you animal/pet lovers that read my blog. Of course, most of you will have scampered over to Charlie's House - already with its own firm fan base ("of course!" murmurs Sir Charles).

Most of you won't have read this blog from it's gentle and somewhat stuttering beginnings of occasional posts, so won't be familiar with the following two characters. But if they had lived - sniff - they would certainly be regular features here - in fact they and Charlie would probably be the main bloggers, with the occasional post from me!

Molly and Dinah were the two lovely guinea pigs we acquired in 2005, I think it must have been. They had a long haired mum and a rough haired dad and took some time to grow into their own fur...they had little coronets on their heads and whenever they washed it looked for all the world like they were 'doing their hair' - especially Molly.

But who needs words? This is what this lovable pair of sisters looked like:

Dinah

fancy a cuppa?

... might be nice...

Molly - and Dinah's nose!


looking down

Molly chatting to Charlie one Nov 5th

(firework night in the UK -pets inside please!)

whispering secrets?




Molly's snail impression



she could do a very good disapproving look

All right, some explanation needed...we only have a lawn in our front garden, which is open right onto the road and slopes, so it's not safe to have small animals grazing...so I sowed grass seed in a seed tray thinking the guineas could reach over the side and nibble it...well you can see what happened; they got right on top of it and ate it all in one go! So, back to me handpicking from the front!

The guinea pigs were fascinated by Charlie from day one, and always very excited to see him. very aware of the problems and injuries that can occur from combining rabbits and guinea pigs, in general they were together but with some kind of barrier between them. One day I decided to see how they would do in the run all together. To keep a close eye in the proceedings, I got in too (you are allowed to giggle). Once the guinea pigs were in, they went straight for Charlie in delight and proceeding to give him a thorough sniffing. If you know how guinea pigs sniff, you'll know they do so very intently, rubbing their noses across the thing they are smelling...

Charlie, rather bemused by the attention and the two noses buried in his fur and sniffing vigorously while making interested chattering sounds, sat for a while and then hopped away. The noses followed. He hopped away. And they followed. In the end, out of desperation, he scrambled on to my lap and eyed them from a higher vantage point, while they scurried around doing their little jumps in the air (with bouncing fur).

Forgive me for waffling on about guinea pigs. I do love them! Sadly Molly and Dinah had malocclusion of the back teeth and it wasn't discovered until it was too late. They had them filed down but they were all ready too deteriorated in health and had to be put down....

They were so lovely. I can't really have any more at the moment due to my health, and Charlie is all I can manage pet wise. But I dream of a whole guinea pig building filled with 'weeenk, weeenk, weenk' - ing noises...

To finish, a short video of them as little ones...I kept the sound so you can hear a snatch of that lovely weenk- ing sound at the end.

houdini, or maybe not

Charlie had a mini-Houdini moment earlier. He scrabbles so hard at one of his hutch doors when his food is coming, that the door has become a bit wonky and difficult to bolt properly. It was lunchtime today when I realised the hutch door was open. Not realising that Andy had opened it to give him some carrot, I assumed it was from when I had opened it when I got up, or...well, I had no clue really.

Gave a mini holler and we both rushed outside, where, thankfully, Charlie was ambling cautiously round the patio. Relaxed. Making sure he couldn't get to the back gate (the main reason for worry), I approached, crouched down and held out my hand. He obligingly came up, had a little stroke, and was swept up and popped gently back in his hutch.

Not much of a Houdini, after all.

a (pictoral) guide to munching hay

munch munch
munch munch

munch munch

munch munch

munch munch

munch.

Today: 5/10, medium

don't ask me to predict the weather

After all my springtime comments, today it is snowing. The ground is too wet for it to settle here, although there is thin layer of slush forming on the patio. The plants, flower beds and lawns are all sprinkled with white. (Other places have been more strongly effected with blizzards.)

Charlie disapproves.

Today:3/10, medium high (v.high last night)

Charlie and the Snake

(Don't worry, not a real snake!)

To answer angeljoy's comment on my previous entry, I shall tell you all that Charlie seems to be doing very well. His weight is now good and healthy for his size, and he is very cheerful in himself. Occasionally I give him some painkiller if it looks like his mouth is sore, otherwise I stick to giving him pro-biotic powder which helps his system cope with more food. I am weighing him once a week in a washing up bowl on top of digital scales, which has varied results depending on his level of patience (and probably mine too!)

He enjoys jumping off his ramp in his hutch (Charlie likes any kind of jumping and leaping) and goes somewhat crazy when let loose in the lounge, hopping and binking all over the place. I only learnt it was called binking the other day - a kind of little twisty jump kick which is very cute :) He'll have another check up in March when he gets his jab.

The other thing I was going to share with you, for the benefit of the crafty ones (!) among you, was this snake card I made for my nephew's 8th birthday at the end of January. It took quite a bit of time and needed lots of reinforcing because of the shape, but I was quite pleased with it. So not a real snake, and nowhere near Charlie. But it sounds like a book title, doesn't it - Charlie and the Snake ?!





Today: 3/10, high

patchwork memories

There are many memories I have which are not full stories but simple snapshots. This is especially true of my childhood - where the patchwork of memories is not numbered or dated, and sometimes one memory includes repeats of the same thing, or event. Or an object - I remember an object in many phases, but I could not place it on a chronological line.

I remember the huge kitchen table where we ate our meals; I also remember cutting up sponges there and making paintings, using the sponges as stamps. I remember making cards for my mother using tissue paper to make flowers.

I remember collecting warm eggs from the henhouse, and how the hens would let me stroke their backs.

I remember being fascinated by the gas mask in the loft room.

I remember clambering up staircases with Bonnie, our black Labrador, in tow - making believe I was scaling mountains and waterfalls in some amazing adventure.

I remember my dad finding a grass snake and putting it in a fish tank for a few moments so I could have a good look at it; I remember also catching sight of an adder as I played with the petals of a flower on a bush.

I remember the guinea pigs hollering with excitement when they heard any kind of bag rustling, thinking it was feeding time. I remember when Topsy, one of our rabbits, gave birth.

I remember lying on my tummy watching the ants march to and fro from their nest; I remember catching butterflies and the delight when they stayed briefly on my finger when they were free to go.

I remember turning out all the lights so I could play 'spaceships' with Bonnie, landing on a distant planet, going round with a torch and discovering the resident alien (aka the hamster).

I remember our cats, Twinkle and Tiptoes, curled on my lap and purring; I also remember the too-enthusiastic pummelling with their claws which came before hand as they got themselves comfortable.

I remember making a house out of an old television box and bringing a tolerant Twinkle inside with me.

I remember how my brother, sometimes my dad, would on my request pick me up by my ankles and swing me round in circles, while I squealed in delight.

I remember hurtling down a snow covered hill on a simple plastic sack.

I remember frequently asking to hear stories of my brothers and sisters when they were my age (I am the youngest by ten years).

I remember the smell of the Christmas tree and how I would make little piles out of the pine needles on the carpet.

I remember lying in the dark in front of the fire.

I remember having staring contests with my sister (she who laughs, loses).

I remember the view from our old house.

I remember feeling - elation, disappointment, joy, hurt, fascination, puzzlement.

I remember more than all this - but this will do for now...

Today: 4/10, high

walk down memory lane: Lucky

I wanted to take part in this as I thought it would be good for me to record some of my memories – these days I feel so forgetful sometimes. Life seems to hurtle by and the days come round again so quickly – so today I will tell you a simple story of something that happened when I was 8 years old. It’s a loooong entry – so forgive me if it is too long.

We had quite a menagerie when I was a child. I was used to cats, dogs, hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, budgies, geese, chickens, and my favourite: ducks. Specifically they were Muscovy Ducks. Some people think that Muscovy Ducks are ugly, with their funny red faces, but I grew very attached to them and always thought they were lovely. Some other people confused them with geese. My uncle and (male) cousin took one look at our drake, Sir Francis Drake (aka Frankie), and turned tail and ran, leaving me bent double with laughter - and Frankie wondering what all the fuss was about.

At this time we had three: Frankie and two ducks, Sophie and Sonia. It transpired that Sophie had laid eggs. With my enthusiasm for ducks no one was allowed to eat the duck eggs (!) The chicken eggs were okay because there was no cockerel. I knew my stuff - if there was a drake, there were possible ducklings. And, there were.

Except one. One poor lonely egg, left in the nest. There was a tiny beak poking through the crack – but the duckling got no further. The other eggs all hatched, but not this one. It stayed there, with that tiny beak. Sophie eventually gave up, and took her ducklings off for food and water.

I was very distressed, and begged my dad to help it. He was very dubious. Still, we took the egg back to the kitchen. It had been so long in its state it was obvious it would get no further. We did the inadvisable, but last option, and helped to break the shell.

She lay, damp and weak. It was evening. We fixed up one of those red lamps and she lay inside an oversized ice cream tub. We left her overnight. My parents did not hold much hope for the weak little bird.

In the morning, I rushed downstairs to see what had become of our little one. My parents had carefully not looked over the edge of the tub (but they knew what was in there) – they knew what I wanted. I looked over the edge, and there she was, fluffy and bright eyed, staring up at me. Me. The first thing she saw. And the imprinting took place. I dubbed her ‘Lucky’.

After checking she was fed and watered, I was eager to see how she would respond. I went into our smaller sitting room (it was always called ‘the study’ – I think that must have been what it was originally). I placed her in the corner in front of the television and walked to the other side of the room. I turned to call her - but she was gone. I was aware of a soft, warm pressure on my foot, and looked down, to see her sitting on top of my shoe, looking up at me. I hadn’t needed to call her – she had followed me across the room.

Lucky slept in a woolly hat on top of a hot water bottle in the airing cupboard. She responded well to all of us, treating us all as family. There is a lovely photo of her standing on my brother David’s arm, peering up into his face, nose to nose.

It was summer, so I was off school. I would put out my ‘My Little Pony’ things and she would peer at herself in the mirror. I would pick her up and hold her against me in one cupped hand, using my thumb to stroke her head where it met her beak – this seemed to soothe all our ducklings – and she would close her eyes and nestle against me. She still liked to sit on my foot.

When I went back to school or couldn’t be with her, my mum would put her in the pocket of her apron, where she was perfectly happy. When she wanted me, she cried. Her cheeping would grow urgent and distressed, and had the ability of halting me in my tracks. I developed a maternal instinct - for a duck. One time we were going to visit my sister, then over an hour’s drive away. We had no choice but to take Lucky with us, in a cardboard box. We sat by the canal and had a picnic. A family outing, with a duckling in a cardboard box.

One day my parents gently explained to me that we just couldn’t keep her in the house forever. I was back at school, and she needed to be with the other ducks. It was a difficult transition – for the little duckling, and the little girl. We went one day up into the shed where the other ducks and her brothers and sisters. They happily wandered about. Lucky sat on my foot. Sophie tried to tuck her under her wings but Lucky would have none of it. My dad put her in the shed and we went out. We’d barely gone a few steps before the wild cheeping started. There was no way I couldn’t respond. I remember my feeling of utter distress. The attempt was a failure; I went back and got her. My dad was dubious about how she would cope with the shock of it all. But she did what she always did, and recovered.

In the end we would put Sophie and the other ducklings in our huge rabbit run on the front lawn. We would put Lucky in it for pockets of time, gradually increasing the period she was in there with the others. I would be within sight, but not reach. Initially she flung herself at the sides of the run, gripping it with her feet and flapping the tiny stumps that were her wings. I would have to rein myself in - resisting the urge to go to her. But she got used to it. So very quickly, I realise now, she adapted and immersed herself into her real family.

It got to the point where she was no tamer than the rest of them. The ducklings would all cope well with me scooping them up to hold them, but she did not come to me in the same way. She was a duck now. A real duck. It made me sad, though she was, of course, better off. I had to let her go.

Later, much later, I had to let her go again. It was my choice. The last of the others had gone, we now lived in a smaller garden and she was alone. I agreed she should go and be with other ducks – with more freedom of space. The new owners were almost as distressed as we were – ‘can’t you keep her?’ they asked, but I was adamant. In the car in the way home, a teenager now, I suddenly started to sob painfully. My parents would have turned round and gone back, but I refused. I had to let her go. I hope I was right – I hope she was happy. They said they would tell us if she ever had ducklings. We never heard anything, but I hope she did.

I always remember the feeling of her. The softness in my hands, the sound of her calling, the coolness of her webbed feet on my arms.

Lucky – the little duckling who defied the odds. She was only a duck - but she once believed an 8 year old girl was her mother.

Today: 4/10, medium

get well soon, Charlie

The vet's appointment yesterday didn't go so well. I've been concerned this past week about Charlie having a weepy eye, and a wet nose - on the same side - which from past tragic experience with the guinea pigs I know as warning signs, and the vet had the same concern (i.e. about his teeth and mouth). His weight has also been worrying me this year. Charlie has dropped a whole pound since his last checkup, which is a lot for a rabbit his size, and he still has his lopsided expression which I mentioned to the vet last time. (This time was our second time at that surgery, with a different vet this time, who really knew her stuff as far as rabbits were concerned.)

The first thing she said was 'there's not a lot to him, is there?' and then 'He's lopsided,' - the first person to notice without me pointing it out. Although last time the other vet found a small spur on his teeth, but considered it not large enough to worry about, this vet couldn't even get to see the area because Charlie was in such obvious discomfort. She didn't give him his myxo jab because she felt he was in such a bad way. I have pro-biotics to sprinkle on his food to see if he can tolerate more food and gain some weight (which has always been the problem with Charlie's digestion) and some painkiller to administer orally to see if it enables her to have a proper look at the problem part of his mouth (and side of face) next week.

So he is not a very healthy bunny, and causing some concern. He may need putting under anaesthetic to check out what is really going on in his mouth - but needs to put on some weight in order to reduce the risk that comes with going under anaesthetic. But there is a risk, and he's not very well, so it's all a bit worrying. It's not cheap, either, of course. But hearing her talking about him and his state of health in the terms she did made me struggle to compose myself at times, as he sat meekly on the table while I stroked him.

I hope we can put some weight on him and bring him through.

Get well soon, Charlie.

Today: 3-4/10, medium
Yesterday:4/10, medium

Charlie's moment of fame

He's gone and done it. Charlie is the official 'Disapproving Rabbit' of the day. Check out the entry here. He is extremely proud, of course, and would like to thank all his loving fans.

I, meanwhile, would like to thank people for their kind comments on my previous entry. I have managed to have a positive day in spite of such weariness. So thank you.

Now, go check out our rabbit!! :)

yesterday

Yesterday I had my first group session with the CFS/ME service (which I mention here). It went well, in that I felt very relaxed - once I was there - and there is something rather free-ing about being with others who understand. You can see the relief dawn on people's faces when they realise - I am not the only one.

Of course, and ironically, I was absolutely shattered afterwards. Thankfully my bus arrived as soon as I'd arrived at the bus stop and ferried me home (can a bus be said to ferry?!) And my headache, frustratingly, became ferocious.

There are another 4 weekly sessions to attend then I'm back on my own, although I'm hoping to establish some contacts with others through the process. I may join a regional support network eventually. there was one in the area where I grew up as a teenager, but I never wanted to have anything to do with that at that age. I was so fed up of being labelled, and leery of being different in any additional way (it's hard enough being a normal teenager, isn't it?). I think the main thing was that it gave it a kind of definiteness, a permanency which I couldn't bare to adhere to it - as if by grouping myself with other sufferers I could never shake it, nor the label of it.

It's different now of course. No longer an embarrassed teenager, I have come to recognise the benefits of the support of others, and through this programme appreciate the relief it can bring - being able to share a similar experience. Also, I suppose after 15 years of having it to some degree, I am no longer afraid of making it feel definite and real and permanent - it's here, and that's that. I was much better at various points in that time. I don't want anyone to think I have been the way I am now for all that time. I had a relapse a couple of years ago so it has been bad since then. Prior to that I was managing, albeit not as strongly as someone without it, but still managing.

And I do believe I have received healing at various points along the way - that through the prayers of others I have been kept safe from getting worse at times, and have made significant, renewing, improvements. One of these was particularly notable, when I felt a dose of energy from God which blasted out all the rotten fatigue. I don't believe a relapse now negates the healing then.

Anyway. Today I have some things to do, including cleaning out Charlie. He is inside because this week is the week of Nov 5th - Bonfire Night here in the UK. Not that he is particularly fazed by loud noises, laid back horizontal bun that he is, but I wouldn't want him scared. (My old dog Misty was terrified, even of thunder).

Now, didn't I just say I had things to do?!!


Today: 4/10, medium - high
Yesterday: 5-4/10, high

for fans of Charlie...

Charlie has been protesting that there have not been any posts dedicated to him recently. He feels he is disappointing his fans. So here we are, some Charlie pics. The first three are his 'stroke me, stroke me' expression. He goes completely goofy...



In contrast...

"You really think these bars will keep me from taking over the world?"

This effect is slightly spoiled by...

"Wahey! Check out my ginger neck!"

blue skies and beads...

Today the sun is shining and the sky is blue - blue with translucent wisps of white cloud hovering overhead. It is lovely to revel in it after such a wet and dreary summer - the wettest, apparently, on record for us. September sunshine is warm and gentle - but with out the force of August and July - meaning that in the shade it can feel very cool.

Having Mum and Dad to stay meant I was doing things with them (which was lovely), but am now catching up with various chores (which is not so lovely). I cleaned the fish tank earlier this morning and then tackled the rabbit hutch (interspersed with trips to and from the washing machine). I was doing a proper clean out for Charlie's hutch, rather than just one segment. Rather tiring, if you remember the size of it from the pictures...

Yesterday afternoon Bev and I went out to a bead bar, which I knew was there but knew very little about - and had a lovely time, rows and rows of beads, beads, and more beads, and we sat at one of the tables and made a bracelet each. They very kindly gave us a tea and coffee, and the tools we needed. We both had a very nice time.

Today: 4/10, medium high

our beautiful flying rabbit

Went to put Charlie in his hutch yesterday evening. Took the cover off the run and within seconds he had taken a flying jump, staggered by briefly landing on top of his carrier, which he uses as a hidey hole in his run, before flying over the side and landing in a flower tub, sprawled out looking somewhat stunned. 'Woh, there!' I said, startled and amused. Helped him out of his undignified sprawl but had to go round other side of run to retrieve him. Wasn't particularly worried until he decided the plants were worth nibbling. 'Don't eat the sweet peas!' I hissed at him, dragging him away from them (note: I was worried about poisoning the rabbit, not the sweet peas!) He got a bite in but seems to be none the worse for wear. I've always known he could jump it if he tried (especially since he landed on the sofa with me) but wasn't expecting it quite at that moment. He'd obviously been planning it all evening. A rabbit version of Chicken Run. Rabbit Run. Er.



He's super confident in his new hutch now - I have to be very careful when I open the doors that he doesn't fly out of there too. He's got used to me being able to crouch in front of him and give him cuddles, so he dangles his head off the edge and looks dopey.


Today: 4-5/10, medium

Charlie's new house

Here, at last, are pictures of Charlie's new hutch. To give you some perspective, this is what he used to be in, when not in his run or the house:


Not great on the days I can't let him out for whatever reason. Really I should have taken a picture with him in it to give you the idea - he filled up a lot of the main compartment.

So.....here's the new one!
It is wider, deeper and higher - the individual levels are higher than his old hutch. I had to coax him up the ramp the first time, with a bit of food. He followed, wobbling, as if thinking not to sure about this, but if there's food involved...

When we first put him in he raced about kicking his legs like he does when he runs around the lounge, which was lovely to watch - enjoying the freedom of space. When I'd coaxed him up to the upper level, he did the same there. He's up and down the ramp all the time now.
Today: medium, 4/10

a brief note

This will probably be my last entry for a while; mum and dad arrive tomorrow and I need to busy myself with various things.

Thought I'd better do my ratings...will try to remember to do them elsewhere but we all know I'm useless at remembering things. Am hoping my physio routine will be kept up; I associate places with doing things so it will require more discipline - the temptation to have a holiday from everything normal must be suppressed unless I want to be headache central the entire time!! Praying everything goes smoothly and gently.

Need to clean Ernie's tank now so mum and dad only have to feed him. He's currently going bananas behind me; he gets very excited whenever we're around (especially when we pick up his food pot). He's developed the occasional habit of thrusting his lower lip against the glass, making a tiny thunk sound. And who says goldfish don't have character?!

Adieu.

Today so far: 5/10, medium
Yesterday: 5/10, medium low

slugs and snails and..rabbits' tails?

Well, I have almost done all the planting I need to before we go away. Still a couple of more things to put in pots but I can see the end of it now. All the stuff I wanted to put out the front has gone in, and I've done a token bit of weeding too!

Moved one pot to find a cluster of seven snails attached to it, and on removing them found a vine weevil, which made me squawk, then squash it. A couple of years ago I'd have thought 'oh, what an interesting beetle! I wonder what it is?' and leave it be. Did that with the Red Lily Beetle, not realising what it did, and my poor Snake's Head Fritillary did not appreciate my ignorance. The naturalist and the gardener battle it out inside me, but there are those pests I am generous with, and those I am not...

Slug and snails' eggs everywhere. The most common I find look very like slow release fertiliser granules...except they can be crushed (and when I have the time, they are).

Although I also discovered these at the bottom of a seed tray module. Plonked them in a pot of salt water. Much less repugnant than having to kill the adults. I'm rather weird and find snails (and even some slugs) quite cute, in a quirky kind of way.

Anyway, have been on phone to my mum to make some arrangements; they are doing some house and rabbit sitting for us! Charlie is well - he got a bit of hay in his eye the other week, but as soon as I noticed discharge I examined it and got it out. I must have caught it quickly; his eye is perfectly fine. He needs a bath this week (ack, another thing to do); I cleaned out his hutch this morning. He is chilling out in his run, althought the weather certainly isn't chilly - very hot in the sun this afternoon.

Anyway; things to do.


Today: 5/10, medium

feeling welcome

Well, I finally made it to the doctor's this morning...I tried to make an appointment last week but the doctor in question was away, and I was fed up of going from doctor to doctor (the two I saw previously have now left the practise). Then I walked to the chemist to get my prescription for some more of these headache tablets. The doctor reiterated that it may take up to a year. Ho hum. Alas the appointment clashed with my first rest stop, but the day after a Bank Holiday Monday is not going to be an easy one to get the appointment time you want...

Yesterday we stayed in for the Bank Holiday since the rain was ridiculous, certainly during the first part of the day. Charlie's hutch was standing in a pool of water. I brought him inside for my sake as much as his. The legs on his hutch are plastic so it's not too much of a problem, but I needed to put my wellies on just to reach him. The weather forecast was rain until Friday, but I've yet to see any today. Charlie doesn't mind; he likes being at the hub of things. He spends most of his time staring plaintively at me.

So, we watched a film yesterday - we got 'Enchanted' out from the video shop. Whether I was just in the right frame of mind I don't know, but I loved it. I thought the bit where she summons the pigeons, rats and insects of New York to do the housework with her (to a happy song) was hilarious. Andy and I decided that there is a good possibility I am a Disney character. I have that dopey streak, and would adore having animals and birds come at my tuneful call.

We went to a different church on Sunday evening as we're not having evening services at the moment due to the building project. I enjoyed the speaker, but couldn't help noticing that absolutely no one came to speak to us. Granted there were a mix of churches there and they may expect a few more strangers than usual, but we could have been anyone. We were much earlier than most and were sitting there by ourselves for ages before many people turned up, and started nattering to one another. I couldn't help a wry smile as I've been reading Simon Jones' book 'Why bother with church?' and in it he uses the anecdote of a woman visiting a church for the first time. The description he used of what going into the service was like was eerily similar - small clusters of people talking to each other, musicians up front, the occasional polite smile. One of our church's great gifts is it's welcome. I'm used to almost being bowled over with people's delight at seeing me. I suppose I couldn't help notice the contrast!

There's a balance between overpowering and completely ignoring someone. Often we don't go up and talk to someone because we feel maybe they want their own space. (I felt a bit of that on Sunday evening - people wondered who we were, but didn't actually approach us.) But that's something we can be sensitive too when we do talk to them - say a warm hello, perhaps ask where they're from, and be discerning as to whether they are pleased to be talked to or would rather have some space. Often people still appreciate a genuine hello and gesture of welcome even if they don't feel like a long conversation. Staring awkwardly at them from afar is certainly not going to help! And simply assuming someone else will talk to them is equally unhelpful - other people may be busy or talking to someone else.

Hmm, have I bored you stiff with my waffle yet?

Energy levels: 4-5/10
Headache: medium

Yesterday: 5/10, medium low
Sunday: 4-5/10, medium - high

pets and vets and...other things

Well, yesterday we took Charlie to the new vet I mentioned previously. It went very well. The interior felt airy and spacious; they have three consulting rooms with three vets in at one time (according to their blurb there are 6 in total). It was open surgery so we popped down when we liked and were able to go straight in once I'd given his details to reception. The vet we saw was very pleasant - I couldn't quite place her accent - she had a very distinct way of saying 'Charlie' (Charlie thought it sounded rather exotic). He behaved himself very well, was thoroughly examined and weighed and didn't flinch when he had the injection. He never seems to feel them which is just as well!
'He has very thick skin,' she said, and she wasn't speaking metaphorically! I think now how much easier I find Charlie to handle than in the early days, and he's much better at it too. At one point she had him dangled over one arm while she reached for something and he simply hung there looking sheepish (I think he liked her accent).

I asked to have his teeth properly examined because he's had this wonky expression lately. It makes him very photogenic (in a funny way) but I didn't want there to be a problem. Apparently he has got a spur on one of his lower back teeth but it is very small and unlikely to be causing him any trouble. If it gets bigger or he shows problems eating (Charlie?!! Problems eating?!! He has problems digesting but never ingesting...) they'll have to do something but it's all right for now. She asked me if we'd ever had anything done to his teeth and I replied that we hadn't, and she responded that they were in very good condition. So that's good.

Often I think, with both Charlie and the poor guinea pigs, if I knew then what I know now... I have to chalk it up to experience. Every now and then I come across photos of the guineas and it still gives me a real pang. They were such dear little creatures. I may, once the pang lessens, make a couple of scrapbook pages of them. I've actually started doing one (very slowly) of my old dog Misty, who died a couple of years ago. I wasn't there when she died and always felt an oddness in my sadness, an unfinished-ness. Doing this has helped me remember her and feel glad of her, if that makes sense. I've not got very far, but it's giving me practise in scrapbooking:

I'm not sure about using the silver brads for her name here. I may re-do that bit a different way at some point. This photo was one of the last before she died.

As a puppy, a pair of my dad's old socks were a terrific hit. She would run around with them partially obscuring her face. It was desperately cute!

Demonstrating the need for pond covers when any baby mammals are present! However to Misty this was just an extra thing to walk on.

Her paws looked huge on her as a puppy. We called them her 'lion cub paws'...

If this is a little unclear, she's lying upside down in her bed. She had no real concept of dignity... After her dinner in the conservatory she would often give a huge belch, and if my mum was in there she was seriously worried the neighbours would think it was her! Of course, there was the other end too...although Bonnie, our black Labrador was the other queen of those. She made herself look at her rear end in surprise sometimes.

Hmmm. I'm thinking I should change the subject now?!

Oh, Liam came over this morning and fitted a new shower for us (hurrah!) and a mixer tap on the kitchen sink (double hurrah!). The shower's been playing up for ages, and since we had a new boiler put in last year the hot tap got so hot in the kitchen that you could actually burn your fingers when you touched it. Me turning it off went something like this: twist, 'Ow!', twist, 'Ow!', twist, 'Ow, ow , OW!' Not that I ever got grumpy with it or anything. Ahem.

Energy levels: 4-5/10
Headache: medium high

just a bit of blather

I haven't written anything the last couple of days - I've been dull and uninspiring! At least I would be if I wrote anything, I'm sure! Nevertheless, I need to update my ratings (sighs, rolls eyes) otherwise I will forget, if I haven't already...

Friday: 5/10, medium
Saturday: 5/10, medium low
Sunday: 5-6/10, medium
so far today: 5/10, medium.

Nothing much interesting there! When it comes to the energy levels this is actually what I'm supposed to be aiming for - that is, consistency rather than highs and lows. So although there is no fantastic improvement, it is a good thing at the moment when it stays the same. Then it can gradually increase - I hope! Headache wise it is very hard to say. I need to go back to the doctor soon to get more pills (sighs again, more eye rolling), and I can't see any significant improvement, but there you are. I hate to and fro-ing from the doctor.

I need to sort out a vet's appointment as Charlie is due for his booster (more sighing, profuse eye rolling) but I am thinking of changing vets to one slightly closer, and perhaps more sympathetic to my situation? But of course sorting out somewhere new is a bit of a chore-bore (bore-chore?) too. Hang on....

...looks in yellow pages...

Hmmm they do have open surgery hours at this practise which may well be easier for us - the other vet is appointment only so there's a lot of checking with diaries etc. Goody! I hate the hassle of making appointments (have I said this before by any chance?!!) So we could just take him in one late afternoon/evening and get him sorted, whenever's best for us. Ahh....that's good.

Blogging does make me do things! More specifically, it helps me remember. One of the most irritating symptoms (of which there are many!) of CFS, I find, is the memory problem. My short term memory can go completely at anytime. All those things people say are a 'sign of getting old' I've been doing since I was 14! I can walk upstairs and forget why I'm there, go back down, remember, go back up, do something else, go back down, then finally succeed to remember all the way up the stairs what I was supposed to do the first time. That is, if I remember at all. Many's the time I'm hit with sudden panic over what I've forgotten. I make a joke of it, but I hate it. I write things down, but there are things you think of on the spot and go to do - I forget on my way there. Sad, isn't it? I was, in a way, relieved to find this was a common symptom - that it wasn't just me. But it does mean I struggle with it frequently. However I am grateful that there isn't a more serious reason. It does make me more understanding, however, of those who do have more serious reasons.

Went for a nice little walk with Judy this morn. My stamina isn't great though. It takes very little to exhaust me. I know it sounds like I'm moaning; I'm not really. It's just what I'm having to deal with at the moment. I'm feeling reasonably content in myself, am enjoying friends' company when I can manage it, and there's a new theory that Vitamin D can help CFS symptoms. The sun can't be a bad thing, then! Though I did put some sun cream on this morning. These days the seasons shift so quickly. Theoretically it's still spring - but stepping outside is like stepping into summer.