That time of year again - Mother's Day and the Ride of Respect 2012. I've managed to arrange an 11 am start time, and hope to meet commenter Conniesdad there (or later for a coffee if not). I'm looking forward to that.
I spent a bit of time hunting round the shops the other day, looking for a jokey gift to Anna from Bonkers Dog and Rescue Cat. I was a bit overwhelmed with all the cheesy Mothers' Day stuff, but curiously I find I am more in sympathy with it than ever before. When my own mother was alive, I was full of all the angry young man stuff about commercialisation, greedy companies cashing in on a traditional religious occasion (getting all that faux outrage on behalf of a religion I didn't share), "It's Mothering Sunday, really, you know".
Now that I don't have anyone to buy for, I realise what I prick I used to be.
If you have a mother, give her a hug today. One day, you'll wish you could.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Friday, 21 October 2011
Hiatus
When I get home from work, I will be catching a few hours' sleep and then I will be on the road and out of radio contact for the rest of the weekend. I will be spending time with my wonderful daughters, and watching one of them get awarded her PhD, which will make me unspeakably proud.
I'll be back just in time to see that nice Mr Cameron outrageously impose a three-line whip on his party to ensure that the people of the UK don't get a chance to express an opinion on the current and future governance of their country, which wasn't going to be binding on him anyway, but which might have caused him some embarrassment at the next Brussels drinks party with his elite chums.
My guess: motion will be defeated, and another petition will be up and running before the end of the week. Satyagraha: keep coming back with persistence and dignity, and stay in their faces.
Play nicely.
I'll be back just in time to see that nice Mr Cameron outrageously impose a three-line whip on his party to ensure that the people of the UK don't get a chance to express an opinion on the current and future governance of their country, which wasn't going to be binding on him anyway, but which might have caused him some embarrassment at the next Brussels drinks party with his elite chums.
My guess: motion will be defeated, and another petition will be up and running before the end of the week. Satyagraha: keep coming back with persistence and dignity, and stay in their faces.
Play nicely.
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Rant of the Day
... comes from Old Holborn. It's an unfashionable view, but it needs saying.
Ever since the State decided that it would reward parents for producing future economic units to tax, the decline of the family has been carefully planned. An army of “experts” have been trained to supersede the family unit. Nursery workers, teaching assistants, social workers, diversity coordinators. All on the State payroll and ready to whisk your newborn off and into the arms of others whilst you concentrate on working 60 hours a week to pay for it all.Go and read the whole thing.
...
Where once a family was a strong bond that stayed together, taught and nurtured, protected and cared, the chosen model is now either the single parent on benefits, sucking greedily at the teat of the State, or the overworked two parent model, desperate to climb the greasy pole of materialism, out do the neighbours on the Barretts estate who throw their 6 week old infantsearest [?] nursery at 7am so they can power breakfast with colleagues to hit this quarters sales targets (and the reward? A trip with the kids to Disneyland, Paris)
...
Our children are farmed out to strangers so we can work harder and pay more taxes. Our parents are farmed out to care homes so our daily routines are not disturbed and the army of State workers have employment doing what used to be the responsibility of the family.
...
Children are the only thing you will leave on this earth, your most treasured creation on your short visit to this life. Enjoy them; leave the BMW, the Golf course, the Gym, the Next catalogue. You won’t lie on your death bed worrying about missed sales targets or promotions, it won’t be your work colleagues mopping your brow, it’ll be the people you brought into this world. If you have taught them that iPads and manicured lawns are more important than devotion and love, fitted bedroom suites are more important than manners and that you didn’t have time to care for them because the State enabled you to be selfish, expect a bitter harvest and the cheapest headstone. You’ll have earned it.
Monday, 27 June 2011
Perfect weekend
I posted on Thursday about my plans for the weekend, and it all turned out even better than expected. I'm a happy man.
D2 arrived on Saturday and we spent the evening having a good old catch-up. We tried out Anna's riding gear and (heavens be praised) it all fitted perfectly, so Plan B to rush into town and purchase a suitable helmet was not necessary. The only non-bikey things she had to wear were a pair of hiking boots instead of proper motorcycle boots, and I was happy that they were strong enough and covered the right bits.
Sunday morning was cool and cloudy, so we kitted up with jumpers and thermal thingies, and set off to meet the other riders at a Little Chef about 25 miles away. D2 was less nervous than I was, and she proved a perfect passenger. Being 8-stone-something helps. We had the pre-flight briefing the night before ("sit like a sack of spuds; lean with me; don't put your feet down if we stop; those bits get hot; those bits will chop your toes off if you put your foot in there; a tap on your knee means hold tight; two taps on my shoulder means slow down") and she seemed to grasp the essentials very well.
Did I mention that I spent a full two hours the day before checking the tightness of every single nut and bolt on the bike? Tyres to the maximum permitted pressure, rear shocks up two clicks, oil level topped up to the upper mark on the sight glass, headlight and tail-light cleaned - and, yes, all the paintwork polished and the shiny bits gleaming. Can't leave anything to chance ...
The first couple of miles were taken at a very steady pace. The roads round here are narrow and twisty, and even a modest speed is often too fast, so I kept it all very sedate. We got onto the main road and I turned my head to ask her how she was feeling. "Fine, absolutely fine!" I took that as confirmation that she wasn't terrified and got a bit more speed on. We cruised along at between 50 and 60 mph, which is a very comfortable speed for the bike, and I even managed a couple of low-drama overtakes - duly warned of by the knee-tap technique. No problems.
We met up with about ten other riders at the Little Chef and set off for the West End Cafe in Llandovery, about another 35 miles away. This time I felt a little more confident and we upped the speed a bit, although we stayed legal. We weren't riding in a group, as we knew where we were meeting up, and so there was no pressure to keep up with anyone else. Nevertheless, we got to Llandovery in good time and had a coffee while the rest of the group arrived. The breeze was shot, the fat was chewed, and eventually we set off for lunch at a pub a few miles away up the valley - the Royal Oak in Rhandirmwyn, recommended. So, a nice gentle introduction to two-wheeled travel, some pleasant company, and a good bit of pub grub in a beer garden with the most amazing mountain views. D2 was having a good time.
By the time we left there, the temperature had soared and we stripped off everything but the basics and stuffed our jumpers and thermals in the panniers. The group now split into two: some were going straight to Tregaron, where there was a vintage bike rally taking place and another pub just waiting for our custom, while the rest were planning to take a ride over the mountains and ride the infamous 'Devil's Staircase'. This is a stretch of road high up in the remoter parts of the county which descends at 1 in 4 down into a valley, with a couple of massively-tight, gravel-strewn hairpin bends to entertain the adventurous and trip up the unwary. D2 had got talking to an older member of the club, who shook his head and said he was not doing that, no way Jose, last time he went down there he was knocked off his bike by a car and didn't get moving again for three hours. Thanks, mate. I explained the choice to D2 and left the decision of which way to go to her.
Devil's Staircase it was, then. I think the name swung it. Kids.
The ride over the mountains was lovely as always, and several times I could hear a discreet 'wow' from behind me. When we got to the steep part, I tapped her on the knee, she tightened her grip, and down we went. No drama. When we got to the bottom, there was a lay-by next to a stream, and we pulled over there for a rest.
We got chatting to an old couple with a fabulously-restored 1953 Rolls-Royce. The wealth and social class were poles apart (one member of the group commented afterwards "I think we have just been talking to Old Money") but a love of good engineering broke all the barriers and we chatted like old friends for twenty minutes. The guy was fascinated to learn that Triumph motorcycles were still being made. They were heading up the hill after they had left us, and we were a little concerned that they would make it. (They did.)
1953 - a fine vintage year. Lots of good things were produced in 1953.
After a while, we turned round, did the Staircase in the opposite direction, and motored over to Tregaron. By this time it was so hot that we sat inside for our drinks, in a lovely dark snug. After that, everyone took a different way home. D2 and I headed, alone this time, for the coast and had a very pleasant run down from Aberaeron to Cardigan and then back home over the Preseli Hills. By this time I was completely happy with her on the back (I think she had been happy for much longer than that) and the ride was at a normal pace, although without heavy acceleration or braking for comfort's sake. Her only complaint was of a numb butt - the famously plank-like Bonneville seat had made its mark.
Not only was it a great ride (weather, location, company, food and drink) but the fact I did it with D2 made the day perfect - in fact, I was humming Lou Reed most of the way in my helmet. Today, we had a walk together on the beach in the morning, and this afternoon she suggested that we went somewhere ... on the bike? So we did. St Davids for an ice-cream and a walk round the Cathedral. Perfect.
I think we have a convert.
Before:
And after:
I can see where this is heading.
D2 arrived on Saturday and we spent the evening having a good old catch-up. We tried out Anna's riding gear and (heavens be praised) it all fitted perfectly, so Plan B to rush into town and purchase a suitable helmet was not necessary. The only non-bikey things she had to wear were a pair of hiking boots instead of proper motorcycle boots, and I was happy that they were strong enough and covered the right bits.
Sunday morning was cool and cloudy, so we kitted up with jumpers and thermal thingies, and set off to meet the other riders at a Little Chef about 25 miles away. D2 was less nervous than I was, and she proved a perfect passenger. Being 8-stone-something helps. We had the pre-flight briefing the night before ("sit like a sack of spuds; lean with me; don't put your feet down if we stop; those bits get hot; those bits will chop your toes off if you put your foot in there; a tap on your knee means hold tight; two taps on my shoulder means slow down") and she seemed to grasp the essentials very well.
Did I mention that I spent a full two hours the day before checking the tightness of every single nut and bolt on the bike? Tyres to the maximum permitted pressure, rear shocks up two clicks, oil level topped up to the upper mark on the sight glass, headlight and tail-light cleaned - and, yes, all the paintwork polished and the shiny bits gleaming. Can't leave anything to chance ...
The first couple of miles were taken at a very steady pace. The roads round here are narrow and twisty, and even a modest speed is often too fast, so I kept it all very sedate. We got onto the main road and I turned my head to ask her how she was feeling. "Fine, absolutely fine!" I took that as confirmation that she wasn't terrified and got a bit more speed on. We cruised along at between 50 and 60 mph, which is a very comfortable speed for the bike, and I even managed a couple of low-drama overtakes - duly warned of by the knee-tap technique. No problems.
We met up with about ten other riders at the Little Chef and set off for the West End Cafe in Llandovery, about another 35 miles away. This time I felt a little more confident and we upped the speed a bit, although we stayed legal. We weren't riding in a group, as we knew where we were meeting up, and so there was no pressure to keep up with anyone else. Nevertheless, we got to Llandovery in good time and had a coffee while the rest of the group arrived. The breeze was shot, the fat was chewed, and eventually we set off for lunch at a pub a few miles away up the valley - the Royal Oak in Rhandirmwyn, recommended. So, a nice gentle introduction to two-wheeled travel, some pleasant company, and a good bit of pub grub in a beer garden with the most amazing mountain views. D2 was having a good time.
By the time we left there, the temperature had soared and we stripped off everything but the basics and stuffed our jumpers and thermals in the panniers. The group now split into two: some were going straight to Tregaron, where there was a vintage bike rally taking place and another pub just waiting for our custom, while the rest were planning to take a ride over the mountains and ride the infamous 'Devil's Staircase'. This is a stretch of road high up in the remoter parts of the county which descends at 1 in 4 down into a valley, with a couple of massively-tight, gravel-strewn hairpin bends to entertain the adventurous and trip up the unwary. D2 had got talking to an older member of the club, who shook his head and said he was not doing that, no way Jose, last time he went down there he was knocked off his bike by a car and didn't get moving again for three hours. Thanks, mate. I explained the choice to D2 and left the decision of which way to go to her.
Devil's Staircase it was, then. I think the name swung it. Kids.
The ride over the mountains was lovely as always, and several times I could hear a discreet 'wow' from behind me. When we got to the steep part, I tapped her on the knee, she tightened her grip, and down we went. No drama. When we got to the bottom, there was a lay-by next to a stream, and we pulled over there for a rest.
We got chatting to an old couple with a fabulously-restored 1953 Rolls-Royce. The wealth and social class were poles apart (one member of the group commented afterwards "I think we have just been talking to Old Money") but a love of good engineering broke all the barriers and we chatted like old friends for twenty minutes. The guy was fascinated to learn that Triumph motorcycles were still being made. They were heading up the hill after they had left us, and we were a little concerned that they would make it. (They did.)
1953 - a fine vintage year. Lots of good things were produced in 1953.
After a while, we turned round, did the Staircase in the opposite direction, and motored over to Tregaron. By this time it was so hot that we sat inside for our drinks, in a lovely dark snug. After that, everyone took a different way home. D2 and I headed, alone this time, for the coast and had a very pleasant run down from Aberaeron to Cardigan and then back home over the Preseli Hills. By this time I was completely happy with her on the back (I think she had been happy for much longer than that) and the ride was at a normal pace, although without heavy acceleration or braking for comfort's sake. Her only complaint was of a numb butt - the famously plank-like Bonneville seat had made its mark.
Not only was it a great ride (weather, location, company, food and drink) but the fact I did it with D2 made the day perfect - in fact, I was humming Lou Reed most of the way in my helmet. Today, we had a walk together on the beach in the morning, and this afternoon she suggested that we went somewhere ... on the bike? So we did. St Davids for an ice-cream and a walk round the Cathedral. Perfect.
I think we have a convert.
Before:
And after:
I can see where this is heading.
Thursday, 23 June 2011
A pillion in a million
Posed by models. Honest.
Earlier in the year, I had mentioned to my younger daughter (D2) that I was hoping to get over to Europe for a bit of riding in the summer. The conversation went something like:
- That sounds really fantastic, Dad!
- Well, you're always welcome to come along, har har.
- Seriously?
- You interested?
- You bet!
- You're on!
I was a bit stunned, frankly, because she had never expressed any interest before. (I ought to explain that her Mum and I split up when she was quite young, and we have missed a lot of that daily-routine stuff, so the topic had never really come up.) We did a bit of blue-sky planning and some rough estimates of time and cost, but didn't get any further. Then she learned that her studies meant she would be working on her dissertation through the summer months and the idea was quietly dropped.
Last weekend, I went up to see her for the day, to find her feeling very low. She has spent the year living alone in a big city, and I think the experience has got her down a bit. So I suggested that she come down to see me next weekend to have a bit of rural R&R and a couple of days' pampering. She jumped at the offer. I then suggested that, weather permitting, we could have a few hours out on the bike to make up for the missed Euro trip. That went down well, too.
Well, it turns out that the forecast is good, and the Triumph Club are having a rideout on the Sunday, complete with lots of coffee/ice-cream stops and a pub lunch in a real-ale pub, so that sealed the deal. D2 has suddenly lost 15 years and it's Christmas again.
She will be able to wear some of Anna's riding kit (with Anna's permission, although asking was a tough one). I am going to try out Anna's helmet on her as soon as she arrives, so that if it isn't a good fit I have time to get her a new one. Helmet fit is absolutely crucial, and that's an area I won't take risks with. As Woody Allen said, "The brain? That's my second-favourite organ!" And I will need to take it steady for the first few miles, as a) she hasn't ever ridden on the back of a bike, apart from little spins up and down the drive when she was much younger, and b) I haven't taken anyone on the back of the Bonnie yet, so the handling of the bike will be an unknown quantity. I'll increase the rear spring preload a bit and take it from there. But she will be an ideal pillion if she learns to sit still: she's petite and blonde, and I doubt if she will upset the bike at all.
She has been very open about how excited she is. I have hidden my excitement well.
I think.
Friday, 15 April 2011
Tintern Abbey
I've just come back from a fantastic day.
Daughter No. 1 is on a camping holiday in the Forest of Dean and we thought it would be great to meet up for the day. My days off work and her holiday plans coincided with an agreement to meet today at Tintern Abbey, a huge Cistercian ruin in the Wye Valley close to Chepstow. A decent weather forecast meant that it was also a great excuse to give the Triumph a leg-stretch.
Tintern Abbey is in a beautiful sheltered setting. The valley is wide there, with steep wooded sides, and on a Spring day like today looked magical.
We met in the car park of the Abbey at lunchtime. No. 1 and her partner were hungry (nothing changes) and so was I after 130 miles of spirited riding through some fabulous countryside, so we went immediately to the pub next to the Abbey, the Anchor.
It was the perfect day for a sit-down in the beer garden, so I ordered a pint of bitter and some fish and chips, and we whiled away the first part of the afternoon catching up and enjoying a drink and some decent pub food. The sun was warm and the sheltered position made it quite hot.
We then did the expected tour round the ruins. Ruins is ruins, but it must be said that these ruins were not expensive ruins - £3.80 per adult seemed very reasonable compared, according to Dn1, with anything up to four times that in some parts of England. The site is massive and the ground plan very complex. Add to that the fact that some parts are merely foundations, while others are still the full height as when they were built in the C13, and the rest are of varying heights in between, and you get a very complicated 3D artefact. My eye was caught by the graphic nature of the interaction of the walls against the wooded hills in the background.
Later in the day, we visited some old iron mine workings near to Clearwell. As an ex-potholer, I found the workings fascinating, and when I get a bigger flash for the camera I will return and post some images here; but for the little second-hand digital job that I was using today the darkness was too much and none of the images was useable.
A goodbye in the car park and a surprisingly cold blast home, but a great day - not just seeing my precious offspring (sadly, daughter no. 2 has a dissertation to write and couldn't make it), but giving the bike a good workout on some excellent riding roads.
The riding season is back. Praise be.
Daughter No. 1 is on a camping holiday in the Forest of Dean and we thought it would be great to meet up for the day. My days off work and her holiday plans coincided with an agreement to meet today at Tintern Abbey, a huge Cistercian ruin in the Wye Valley close to Chepstow. A decent weather forecast meant that it was also a great excuse to give the Triumph a leg-stretch.
Tintern Abbey is in a beautiful sheltered setting. The valley is wide there, with steep wooded sides, and on a Spring day like today looked magical.
We met in the car park of the Abbey at lunchtime. No. 1 and her partner were hungry (nothing changes) and so was I after 130 miles of spirited riding through some fabulous countryside, so we went immediately to the pub next to the Abbey, the Anchor.
It was the perfect day for a sit-down in the beer garden, so I ordered a pint of bitter and some fish and chips, and we whiled away the first part of the afternoon catching up and enjoying a drink and some decent pub food. The sun was warm and the sheltered position made it quite hot.
We then did the expected tour round the ruins. Ruins is ruins, but it must be said that these ruins were not expensive ruins - £3.80 per adult seemed very reasonable compared, according to Dn1, with anything up to four times that in some parts of England. The site is massive and the ground plan very complex. Add to that the fact that some parts are merely foundations, while others are still the full height as when they were built in the C13, and the rest are of varying heights in between, and you get a very complicated 3D artefact. My eye was caught by the graphic nature of the interaction of the walls against the wooded hills in the background.
Later in the day, we visited some old iron mine workings near to Clearwell. As an ex-potholer, I found the workings fascinating, and when I get a bigger flash for the camera I will return and post some images here; but for the little second-hand digital job that I was using today the darkness was too much and none of the images was useable.
A goodbye in the car park and a surprisingly cold blast home, but a great day - not just seeing my precious offspring (sadly, daughter no. 2 has a dissertation to write and couldn't make it), but giving the bike a good workout on some excellent riding roads.
The riding season is back. Praise be.
Monday, 22 March 2010
Desert Island Discs 7
A bit of cheating here, so you're getting two for the price of one.
I was a big fan of Family in the late 60s and 70s. They had a very individual take on what was rock music. When everyone else was using the guitar/bass/drums line-up, Family featured violins, saxophones, harmonicas, organ, Mellotron and vibes, amongst others. The music ranged from hard rock to psychedelia, and was always interesting, if sometimes a little rough at the edges.
The unique thing about Family in those days was the leadership of vocalist Roger Chapman. In the normal register, his voice was a good, smoky R&B voice, full of humour, passion and aggression by turns. But when Chappo let fly, his voice became something unworldly: a heavy vibrato that sounded a bit like a bleating sheep on acid, and totally dominated the band's sound. People either loved or hated it. I loved it. His presence on stage was dominant, too - shouting, stamping about, with shaggy hair, balding on top, and throwing the mike stand about like he held a personal grudge against it.
These songs are from what I consider their best album Fearless. The first, Spanish Tide, was on the original release, and is a good, loud bit of early 70s rock, with some excellent vocals and instrumental passages (including a massively-overdriven vibes solo). The second song is their highest-charting single In My Own Time, which reached No. 4 in 1971 and is included on the latest edition of the CD. This has a fine example of Chapman bleating his way into the stratosphere. Perhaps not the best rock band ever, but interesting, innovative and pretty wild. I saw them at Leeds Uni in '71, and they were the best live band of that year.
Here we go:
I was a big fan of Family in the late 60s and 70s. They had a very individual take on what was rock music. When everyone else was using the guitar/bass/drums line-up, Family featured violins, saxophones, harmonicas, organ, Mellotron and vibes, amongst others. The music ranged from hard rock to psychedelia, and was always interesting, if sometimes a little rough at the edges.
The unique thing about Family in those days was the leadership of vocalist Roger Chapman. In the normal register, his voice was a good, smoky R&B voice, full of humour, passion and aggression by turns. But when Chappo let fly, his voice became something unworldly: a heavy vibrato that sounded a bit like a bleating sheep on acid, and totally dominated the band's sound. People either loved or hated it. I loved it. His presence on stage was dominant, too - shouting, stamping about, with shaggy hair, balding on top, and throwing the mike stand about like he held a personal grudge against it.
These songs are from what I consider their best album Fearless. The first, Spanish Tide, was on the original release, and is a good, loud bit of early 70s rock, with some excellent vocals and instrumental passages (including a massively-overdriven vibes solo). The second song is their highest-charting single In My Own Time, which reached No. 4 in 1971 and is included on the latest edition of the CD. This has a fine example of Chapman bleating his way into the stratosphere. Perhaps not the best rock band ever, but interesting, innovative and pretty wild. I saw them at Leeds Uni in '71, and they were the best live band of that year.
Here we go:
Monday, 6 July 2009
Bad few months pt. 2
Anna came home from the cardiac surgery in one piece and made remarkably good progress. After a week or two, she was walking almost a mile a day and we were looking forward to getting away in the summer and catching up with ourselves. But since then there has been nothing but bad news.
First was a pulmonary embolism, which thankfully was only small, but meant that Anna had to have Heperin injections for a while (that was fun - the darts I played in my youth came in useful) and then she went onto Warfarin. Meanwhile, all exercise had to stop, which meant that the progress she was making recovering from Health Disaster 1 was halted by Health Disaster 2. All through this, she had been experiencing severe pain in her back. She has a bad back in any case, so we assumed that it was a result of lying flat out during the operation. But when it didn't get any better - in fact, got much worse - we had it investigated. It seems that she had suffered a 'wedge fracture' of one of her vertebrae. Over the next few weeks, more of them collapsed, so that eventually she had four vertebrae which had crumbled. Luckily, the spinal cord was not affected, but she is now in a large spinal brace, which is extremely uncomfortable but at least relieves the pain enough to let her sleep. So that was Health Disaster 3.
Superstition says that things always come in threes, so we are hoping that this is the end of the troubles for the time being. Anna is now slowly improving, and although we have cancelled plans for a holiday in the near future, it looks as though getting away will be possible before too long.
On top of all this, the trailbike has had one thing after another go wrong with it. As I am not super-rich, I have had to do the diagnosis and repairs myself. As soon as I get one thing fixed, it runs for a week and then something else goes wrong. I'll probably talk about this in another post some time. The other bike has had its problems too, but fortunately, it has always been running when the trailbike was not, so I have at least had transport.
At the end of May, my boss called me in and told me that, as part of the company's cost reduction plans, I was being reduced to a three-day week. While a bit more time to spend with Anna (and get things like shopping done) was very welcome, the cut in pay and holiday entitlement was a bit of a blow. I was told that this arrangement was only temporary, but it is looking more and more as if it will be permanent. So I'll have to add 'looking for a new job' to all the other things.
This is a new blog, and I felt the need to put down all the stuff that had been happening recently. There. It's done. I hope no-one reading this (I ought to say 'either of us') thinks it's a plea for sympathy. It isn't. I take life on the chin, and I am quite content with whatever fate deals out for me. But it does save a lot of explanation later if I dump all the crap down here, early on, where the interested can refer to it if they are very bored.
Life moves on, and so do I. On to more interesting stuff in the next post, I hope.
First was a pulmonary embolism, which thankfully was only small, but meant that Anna had to have Heperin injections for a while (that was fun - the darts I played in my youth came in useful) and then she went onto Warfarin. Meanwhile, all exercise had to stop, which meant that the progress she was making recovering from Health Disaster 1 was halted by Health Disaster 2. All through this, she had been experiencing severe pain in her back. She has a bad back in any case, so we assumed that it was a result of lying flat out during the operation. But when it didn't get any better - in fact, got much worse - we had it investigated. It seems that she had suffered a 'wedge fracture' of one of her vertebrae. Over the next few weeks, more of them collapsed, so that eventually she had four vertebrae which had crumbled. Luckily, the spinal cord was not affected, but she is now in a large spinal brace, which is extremely uncomfortable but at least relieves the pain enough to let her sleep. So that was Health Disaster 3.
Superstition says that things always come in threes, so we are hoping that this is the end of the troubles for the time being. Anna is now slowly improving, and although we have cancelled plans for a holiday in the near future, it looks as though getting away will be possible before too long.
On top of all this, the trailbike has had one thing after another go wrong with it. As I am not super-rich, I have had to do the diagnosis and repairs myself. As soon as I get one thing fixed, it runs for a week and then something else goes wrong. I'll probably talk about this in another post some time. The other bike has had its problems too, but fortunately, it has always been running when the trailbike was not, so I have at least had transport.
At the end of May, my boss called me in and told me that, as part of the company's cost reduction plans, I was being reduced to a three-day week. While a bit more time to spend with Anna (and get things like shopping done) was very welcome, the cut in pay and holiday entitlement was a bit of a blow. I was told that this arrangement was only temporary, but it is looking more and more as if it will be permanent. So I'll have to add 'looking for a new job' to all the other things.
This is a new blog, and I felt the need to put down all the stuff that had been happening recently. There. It's done. I hope no-one reading this (I ought to say 'either of us') thinks it's a plea for sympathy. It isn't. I take life on the chin, and I am quite content with whatever fate deals out for me. But it does save a lot of explanation later if I dump all the crap down here, early on, where the interested can refer to it if they are very bored.
Life moves on, and so do I. On to more interesting stuff in the next post, I hope.
Thursday, 2 July 2009
Proud, or what?
I've just come back from a couple of days away attending my daughter's graduation. To say I was a proud Dad would be the understatement of the year. Her sister, who graduated a couple of years ago, was there too, which made it extra special. And the ex and I got on fine, which made it even better. Eight hundred miles in the car (with trailer - I had to take all her stuff back to her Mum's as well) and three days well spent.
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