Ahead of the curve

Gel had a friend around for lunch on Friday who works in the NHS, and her words of wisdom around pain control is to keep ahead of it. Don't wait for it to get sore before taking pain control.

After a deep and dreamless codeine induced coma last night I've been keeping ahead of the curve with paracetamol and thus far - touch wood - it seems to be working. I'll try this for a few days and see how it goes from there.

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Yesterday we went for and very nice lunch with D & S at the Frozen Mop in Mobberly. After the food, D had the wizard idea that we shufty on over to Dunham Massey for a walk, and then the reward of a coffee and cake.

Frozen Mop shadows

Dunham was pretty full, but not overwhelmingly so. We had a walk around the garden, bobbed in the orangery, and ended up on the terrace of the cafe with a huge lump of cake and coffee.

Dunham House

Batman emerging from a Batman Flower

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This morning we had a very slow start to the day which involved much sitting in the warm morning sunshine on our decking.

If you remember to a few blogs ago where I was telling you about the drudgery of decorating Caitlin and Andy's house, well this afternoon we went over for a BBQ. We had a look around the house which is looking really really nice. They've done such a nice job. The most recent addition is internal doors which look great. They've even started on getting the garden in order. It is a huge transformation from the complete wreck they took on, to a light, airy, and beautifully dressed home.

The BBQ was damn fine too. Here's a couple of pics from the back yard.

You can see I'm out of practice taking pictures. All that foreground interference.

Caitlin serving the burgers

Group shot with Andy

Group shot with me

Oh, the irony #34

When we went to Little Moreton Hall yesterday, I took my Fuji X-T1 with 16-55mm lens for a run out.

Camera? Check
Battery? Check
Spare battery? Check
Lens cap? Check

Got there and, oh sweet irony, I'd forgotten to put a memory card in the camera.....bugger.

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Back pain is still there and I think I need to move away from being brave and just dose myself up with painkillers. Quick check with Christie tells me it might subside, but might also stay the entire time on the drug so I need to manage the pain rather expect it to drop away.

Tough on all of us that I'm carrying constant pain just at the moment.

The Hunter

We've got two cats. Boo, a black male, and Poussey and black and white female. He is big cat, not over endowed with brain matter, she is small and appears to be higher up the clever scale. Lucky for her.

We've wondered if they were to start hunting more than just flies and bees, which would be the first to succeed. Well this morning we got our answer. Pheebs was looking out at the garden and noticed that Boo was scuttling about with something in his mouth. At first we thought a frog, so we went out and tried (successfully) to rescue what turned out to be a wee mousie.

Boo gave up his treasure without much of a fight and the poor thing, while shocked, seemed unhurt when I released it on the other side of the garden. Boo then thundered around perhaps pumped up with a surge of adrenalin.

Poussey watched on, a little bemused, but joined in a little of the thundering about before retiring to the latest cat favourite sitting point outside.

I suspect they like it because they can sit outside and observe the world but keep dry and warm. At one time they've both settled down together. Awwww.

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We then went over to Congleton and visited one of my favourite places, Little Moreton Hall.

It's a National Trust property which was built in 1504 and was pretty much finished by 1610. In it's entire life it has never been sold, passing down the Moreton family until the National Trust took it on in 1938.

This bay window was installed in 1559 and at the top of the window you can see that the "Carpender" (carpenter) Rychard Dale was allowed to put a small advert above the window. The word carved says "Carpeder" but just above the E and D is a blob which indicates a missing N.

The next line is just a bit like Twitter with a character limit, he must have run out of space so it says "BY THE GRAC OF GOD".

If you haven't been, then I'd highly recommend it.

The Monday after

Winning the FA Cup ought to be a special day, but was rather overrun by talk of the Special One. And that's disappointing.

I'm sure this information must have been available, or leaked, at a time when the fans should be basking in the glow of another FA Cup win. Before you start bleating about it not being a classic, how many actually are? I remember being at the 1985 final when Utd beat Everton. Two teams at the top of their game - although it ought to be said they were topper than what we was - and the game was dire, right up until Kevin Moran was sent off in the 78th minute. Then it was only exciting because it was 10 v 11, and because the winning goal was such a good one. The rest of the game seemed to be two tired teams trundling around after a long season.

I also think that making the information public at that time was very disrespectful to Louis van Gaal. Instead of being able to sit back and demonstrate something from the last two years, it was straight into damage control around him leaving to be replaced by someone who is splitting the fans opinion. The whole weekend has felt rather less celebratory than it ought.

Mourihno clearly has what it takes to win something, but doesn't hang about for long. I think United fans have been rather spoiled by having Fergie for 26 year and it would be foolish to expect that sort of tenure (in the same way Philadelphia Athletics fans were spoiled by having Connie Mack as their manager for 50 years - he retired at the end of the 1950 season at the age of 87), but it would be nice to see him stay and build something of value.

I think many people worry that he wins things entirely by buying in players and not developing them, which isn't our way. There hasn't always been a Neville/Neville/Butt/Giggs/Scholes/Beckham quantity of players coming through, but there has been a fairly constant trickle. Not all of the made the grade with us, but there's something nice about cheering for a lad who's been with us since he was 13. It's interesting to see how those youngsters who don't quite make it with us are able to make living elsewhere. Premier League medal winner, and England squad member Danny Drinkwater being the most obvious at the moment.

Anyway, it looks like a done deal. Once he's announced as our manager then it's my job to get behind him and support him. Hopefully his time away will have made him reassess his approach, and things will as successful but without the circus. Fingers crossed.

Fall from grace

There was a really good discussion on R4 this afternoon between a couple of people who'd had bad falls. One out of a fast moving boat, the other down the side of a cliff.

This started my subconscious going - I was driving at the time so my conscious was occupied - thinking about vehicle accidents I'd been in. Not that many luckily.

The first one was when I had a motorbike. Never again. When I first started working I had no mode of transport and in those long off days you could ride a motorbike - not more than 125cc - on a provisional licence for two years. Which I did.

I'd never ridden a motorbike until I picked my new Honda 125cc from the shop. How I didn't kill myself in the first few weeks is a complete mystery. In fact I did pretty well only coming a cropper once in the two years I owned it. I went over a nail, the back tyre went flat, and the back end started bouncing in a somewhat ungainly manner.

Iinstead of stopping and then looking at what had happened, I looked down over my shoulder. At that point turning the handlebars, and I went flying over them as the bike lurched to a halt and I fell on my hands in the other lane. I didn't realise I was being followed by a police car, but they were kind and helped me get the bike to the motorbike shop in Wilmslow which is now an Indian restaurant. My wrists hurt for a while after, but no lasting damage to either me or the bike.

The next one was coming home as a passenger in a Ford Granada estate from having a curry in Rusholme. As we headed along the dual carriageway a small car appeared at the side junction ahead on the left. We both clocked it. It started to come out of the junction, had a change of mind and stopped and then, too late tried to make bolt for it.

It was a flimsy little french estate and he hit it towards the rear spinning it around a couple of times and throwing the contents of the car across the road. The Granada, being a big heavy thing, while damaged, protected us fine. I do remember the whole event happening in slow motion. It meant we were late getting to the pub.

The most recent was in North Wales early one morning with fresh snow on the ground and the car going straight on when I tried to negotiate a bend, and hitting a lamppost and a stone wall. Slowly, I thought, but knackered the front of the car.

I also pulled out from a junction not having seen a car coming from the right, and sending it into the wall of a local pub. No casualties, but the woman I hit was, not unreasonably, shaken up.

The most spectacular was when I was overtaken on the motorway by a Sliver Lexus going backwards. It it the central reservation, and bounced back into the carriageway, hitting me on the side and sending me spinning off into a field. I was SO lucky as I hit a fence post going backwards so the impact just forced me into the seat. Had I gone forward there could have been all sorts of nasty consequences. The car was completely written off but I escaped with sore biceps. I'd been gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Such an adrenaline rush. I remember standing on the hard shoulder calculating if I'd missed my train to London and whether I could make the next one. I have some pictures somewhere, I'll look them out and scan them for a later blog.

Hope that's the last. They aren't fun.

Advice to budding bloggers #1

Last night, as a was going to sleep, I started to write a blog. In me head. It was well funny. A famous saying, or moment from todays news, segue into an anecdote about me, either currently or from the past, before returning to the original thing that sparked my imagination. Followed by a picture of a cat.

Advice #1 - write stuff down.

That fantastic blog post I was thinking about yesterday is gone. You might get the cat picture, however.

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Yesterday Gel noted that Boo seemed to limp a little, and when we had a closer look, we could see that his back right leg was inflamed. He limped a little, but he still managed to jump up to the top of the wardrobe, go out through the cat flap and troll about the garden, and his appetite was not suppressed. No obvious injury, and he didn't mind us handling it, so we decided to hold off a vet visit and this morning he seems returned to full health.

He doesn't seem unduly mithered, does he?

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Friday was a very nice evening, as we met up with our good friends P and J and went for a really nice meal at The Fishpool Inn, Delamere.

I think we could recommend both the food and the company.

Zeb's dead baby, Zeb's dead

Yeah, yeah, I know, it shout be "Zed's dead" as I hear millions of Pulp Fiction fans berating me for misquoting from the fillum.

But I saw this on the road and thought I could do a whole skit about Zebedee from the Magic Roundabout being hit by a car, and taken off to hospital. Yeah, I know. It seemed funny at the time.

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So, where am I physically? Emotionally I'm drained after that, admittedly, exciting game against West Ham. Why is it we can't hold on to a lead?

A couple of days ago I was really struggling with pains in my lower back, shoulder, mid-back, neck and ribs. It turns out that these could have been a side effect of the enzalutamide I'm on, which, counterintuitively, cheered me up. At least there was a reason for what ailed me.

Since then I've taken things quite easily. I haven't come to a grinding halt. I drove to Wem on Sunday, did a small amount of weeding on Monday (which aggravated the ribs a little), but as I sit here typing this, I am left with just one of two sharp twinges, which hurt mostly when I sneeze. Would it be too much to think they all might be but a memory come Friday?

Fingers crossed.

Hobbit forming

Yesterday we travelled to the wilds of Shropshire to christen a "Hobbit Hut". Now until yesterday I thought that might be an industry standard term, but it turns out that it is a name given to a BBQ Hut by C who, with S, have bought and installed (if S is to be believed, entirely under his own steam) in their back garden.

And quite magnificent it is too

It was, or at least felt like, the hottest day of the year, so the all-weatherness of the hut were a bit redundant. In fact it was 36 degrees inside where S was preparing the meaty meatiness. There were lots of jokes about plunge pools, and nakedness, and birch twigs. I'd like to go back in the autumn or winter and give it a proper go.

Other than that it was a right good afternoon of good food and good company.

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On the way back we came under the airport tunnels just as a monster Emirates plane trundled over the top. What a treat.

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On the way I saw a sign warning "Factory Turning" and when we got there it was a Bread Factory... No matter how big it is, I think it should always be called a bakery. Surely bread must always come from a bakery, no matter it's size..

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We were richly entertained by BBC R4 Desert Island Discs on the way yesterday. The castaway was Tom Hanks. What a nice man. What an interesting man. Find it on iPlayer if you haven't heard it.

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Irrelevant picture of a cat on a chair:

The First Cut is the Deepest

It has got to that time of the year when one has to stop appreciating the daffs, the blossom, the new leaves, and mow the lawn for the first time.

It's a dangerous balance. Do it too early and it's wet and horrible, leave it too late and it's dry but too long.

Before

After

It's not huge, and it isn't very level. When I bought the house there was an old tree stump about where the clothes dryer is.

I don't have a lawnmower of my own, and this is mostly because my dad lives on the next street and has the most wonderful petrol mower. When it's time for a mow, I wander round and steal it from his garage, push it along the street and into my garden.

Yesterday I decided to do it even though I was struggling mightily. I have a longstanding shoulder injury but over the last couple of weeks managed to pick up problems with my back, hips, neck and ribs. At least that's what I thought until I saw the first line of possible side effects from my new drug (Enzalutamide) were: "Back pain, joint aches, musculoskeletal pain".

So I do have pain, but probably not from over exercise or physical activity. This was a little comforting as I was beginning to think that I would never be able to do anything physical again for fear of injury.

Anyway, I was moving a little tentatively. Walking is possible, just not at any speed, so I ambled round to my Dads, nicked the mower and brought it home. Tried to fire it up. No go. No petrol in the tank. Bugger.

Found a petrol can in my shed and walked up to the local petrol station, filled it, came back and filled the mower. Started the beast up and did my first few cuts, stopping when the grass bin was full.

As I started to empty the contents into the composter, I felt something hard and plasticky. I had checked the lawn for debris and "cat presents" before I started, and found none, but I must have mowed something into the grass bin. As I cleared the grass away I was disappointed to uncover another petrol can, with petrol, that had been stored (I think by me) in the grass bin. Those slow walks to and from the petrol station had been for nought.

Never mind. My dad now has a can of petrol and so do I. If the bomb drops we can carry on mowing our lawns for quite a bit. Assuming the grass survives.

T'Footie

Well, well, well. Things have been very exciting over the last week or so . Man U managed to hold the mighty Leicester City to a draw at Old Trafford on Sunday, but after a, ahem, robust game at Stamford Bridge the Foxes were confirmed as Champions of England for the first time in their history.

Cue a whole slew of articles about whether or not this was the biggest surprise win of all time. Buster Douglas beating Mike Tyson? Nottm Forest winning the league and then two European Cups on the bounce. The Boston Red Sox going from worst in 2012, to first to win the 2013 World Series.

Whether it is or not is faintly irrelevant. It is a fairytale come true. It has made me very happy.

This came on the back of United getting to the Cup Final (Monday of this week marked the 40th anniversary of my first visit to Wembley to see United cheated out of the trophy by Southampton's clearly offside goal). A cracking game of two halves against Everton who must have felt hard done to losing to a goal in injury time. Good goal though.

Then last night it was pleasing to see city get knocked out of the semi final of the champions league. Not that I did see it as I was out with a few work colleagues for a curry. Everything will be complete if Villareal advance to the final of the Europa League at the expense of Liverpool tonight.

The Leicester story is quite nice as it is a story of another team doing well pleasing me, rather than other teams failing. It's an odd way to be. We have a friend in Germany who supports Nurnburg (currently 3rd in the German 2nd division) but then supports any German side against any team from any other country. Is this an English was of thinking? Or is it just me that hopes for rivals to fail, even if it is against dirty foreigners?

Hello

Rip Rig and Panic
Sandii and the Sunsetz
Lloyd Cole and the Commotions
Skids
The Everly Brothers

How could I forget the Everly Brothers?

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I have a biscuit tin in which I store a few "magical and wonderful" things. I showed the contents to me mother, John and Gel last week. One of the things in the tin are a few concert tickets. Many of which are nothing more than a torn off cloakroom ticket.

One of the tickets is from an Elvis Costello gig at Lancaster Uni. A friend of mine was going up and offered a lift, an offer which I was happy to take up.

I took my camera - an Olympus OM10 - with a couple of lenses and a couple of rolls of Ilford ISO400 film. In our party we had someone with a walkman that could record in stereo and, more surprising, another had a video recorder. Bearing in mind this was 1982 so the recorder was enormous. There was a large camera attached to a briefcase sized unit containing the tape recording element, and a battery.

It being 1984 we all had long "Echo and the Bunnymen" coats, and as we approached the venue the security was there, alert as ever. "Got any cameras there lads?" "No" "Ok in you go"

My pics turned out not bad. No great, but ok. I'm not sure I ever heard the tape recording, but I saw the pitiful video. The person taping it had to hold it above his head among the standing punters and vaguely point it towards the stage. The device had no LCD screen like you do now. The primitive autofocus and the fact that the cameraman was moving in the crowd and by the very fact of having to hold the camera aloft, made for a pretty ropey quality. The battery only lasted for about 45 minutes.

There was some grand plan to edit the (stereo) sound and vision together, but I'm pretty that never happened.

After the gig we wandered aimlessly around, not wanting to simply shoot off back down the motorway. We were watching the roadies load up the kit into the tour lorries when someone shouted, "Oy, over here". I thought were in trouble for something, but was we approached the person shouting it was clear we weren't. He'd just mistaken us for someone else, "Down the corridor, second right".

So we followed the instructions and found ourselves in a room with a mirror along one wall below which was some food and drink, and in the room was Elvis, Pete, Bruce and Steve. We hung around and chatted for a while, and that's where I got one of my greatest single things in my box of "magical and wonderful" things:

L-R: Elvis Costello, Bruce Thomas (bass), Pete Thomas (drums), Steve Nieve (keyboards)