It’s time to change your clocks if you wish to align with Greenwich Meantime. You must stay up till 2am to change your clocks or spot the moment your mobile phone, computer or radio magically jumps back in time. Then you can have a lie in as we gain an extra hour of bedtime.
And if orange is your favourite colour it’s pumpkin season and only a week to go till Halloween. As it is also half term I have visitors interrupting blogging transmission so I’m flying off for a while.
Autumn is slowly creeping upon us, with weather still too mild. I am walking around with my new eye.
There is a choice on the NHS between distance and reading, so I opted for distance and to have reading glasses. So now at present I can just about read with the old eye…
What happens when you get home? For two weeks no heavy lifting, gardening, keep fit classes or housework? For four weeks drops four times a day. What a surprise, the drops are Dexamethasone, the same steroid as in the tablets they give you with chemotherapy. This is to prevent inflammation. For people with other eye conditions like glaucoma there are all sorts of drops which they probably have to take for ever, so mustn’t complain about four weeks. The focus on eyes has given others the opportunity to tell me all about their eye drops, when they take them, which ones have to be kept in the fridge…
A reader in Australia enjoying a Halloween story in Pandemonica.
What revelations and story ideas has my new lens brought? I could be a better police witness. With cataracts and other eyesight problems, how many people are wandering around not seeing properly? That blind person with a long cane is actually someone walking their little dog on a long lead… the man with a baby strapped to his chest is actually carrying a parcel, the man standing over a body on the pavement is actually standing with his luggage waiting for a taxi. I also have a brand new television set which appears to be in 3D. I can read the straplines and hopefully those messages on the characters’ phones vital to the plot.
Of course I still rely on my phone’s lens…
Have you ever not recognised your friend walking towards you or misinterpreted what you were seeing in the distance?
A visication is when you have visitors and it’s like being on holiday, apart from the extra work and cooking of course. You can do holiday things and spend lots of money, because you are on holiday after all. Experience thrills from the cliff lift to the big wheel, pirate crazy golf to the zip wire – though none of my visitors have wanted to go on that, except the ones that are too small to be allowed.
With visitors ranging from four to my age, if you include the dogs and stays from 1 day to six weeks, who knows what you might be doing. Who will be going in the sea, watching others going in the sea or mending the beach hut? Other holiday adventures include river trips, visiting museums, painting pottery, going to a Brick Fest – Lego not house building and theatre or cinema.
One thing is for certain, if you have a big family get together on a bank holiday weekend in summer there will be a huge deluge of rain on the cliff top and your guests will be sand blasted on the promenade. The picnic will remain in the rucksacks and relaxing in the sun at the beach hut replaced by hot chocolate at the cafe.
But there are still fun things for your visitors to do on a rainy day like going in the loft for a good rummage, bringing down the old Scalelectrix, setting it up and fighting over it.
Of course the best part of having visitors is them doing jobs for you, ranging from fixing the television, which turned out not to be broken after all to totally renovating the house. If you have handily just had an operation they do cooking and housework.
Which sort of visitors do you prefer or perhaps None?
Another bit of me is now artificial. I have joined a popular club, the Cataracts Collective. Everyone says there’s nothing to worry about, except for Judith at our group whose son-in-law woke up the next morning with his eyeball back to front. Hers is a family to whom many strange medical things happen and it had not put her off, she was due to join a more exclusive club, those who are having stents put in their eye as well as a new lens.
My son-in-law said Cataract operations have been done since the ancient Romans, so no need to worry. I think I would worry if I was a Roman citizen… Many of us do not like anything to do with eyes. There was a family story about Uncle Ron. Visiting friends and sitting round the dinner table they heard the story of how their host scratched his eye on a rose thorn. Keen hands-on gardeners will understand how easily this could happen. At the hospital they pulled his eyeball out and rested it on his cheek. At this point in the story they heard a loud thump, Uncle Ron had fainted clean off his chair.
I would never contemplate contact lenses. I have had few operations asleep, three C-sections and two Carpal Tunnel awake, must be something about the letter C and now there were two cataracts looming… far more worrying.
Anyway, time to get to the hospital. In a reversal of school days you have to be dropped off by your son or daughter ( carents ) who are not allowed to stay, leave their phone number and are summoned to pick you up later. Of course it may be a spouse or kind neighbour to accompany you.
When we got to the desk the lady in front of me was also a Janet. Her husband was in a wheelchair and I initially thought he was the patient, but when we were chatting later it turned out she didn’t want to leave him alone at home and a neighbour brought them both in. One of the nurses assured her he would be looked after and wheeled him away.
In the little waiting room I was put in a corner near the other Janet then another lady arrived and was put between us. She kept exclaiming she must be the youngest there. I looked at her and thought smugly to myself, ‘I don’t think so…’ We soon found out how old everyone was because every time the nurses came to do yet more eye drops or summoned us to see the surgeon, they asked our date of birth, which eye, are you diabetic, any allergies… Turned out the other lady was the youngest. We tried to engage her in conversation, but she just sat there looking like a frightened rabbit. Not surprising as we were the only ones exchanging medical notes and having a laugh. The positioning of the chairs did not make casual chat easy and with three surgeons on and three lists going, nobody had any idea when they would be called for their operation. A nurse told me I was having the best surgeon. We had all had to arrive by 7.45am and my surgeon said it would be about 10am for me. Our few possessions we had been allowed to bring were whipped away and put in lockers, so no notebook or anything to read.
The other Janet was first and I was about middle of the list and so bored I was very happy to walk off to the anaesthetic room. I have to say all the medical staff were very nice and caring. Cataracts come upon you later in life, so that was why I was probably the second youngest and some of the patients were very frail. The frailest were going to stay overnight.
On the way we stopped at a big cupboard with shelves and shelves full of little boxes containing our individual lens. In the first room it was onto the trolley, blanket over you, more eye drops and checking who you were and which eye. Then into the small operating theatre, where my surgeon had an assistant. Classical music was playing in the background, a gentle selection, no 1812 Overture or Verdi’s Requiem. More eye drops. The assistant pressed the button to raise the bed and the back went up instead. He said ‘Whoops, wrong button’ I said ‘I hope you don’t press any more wrong buttons.’
The nurse asks you if you want her to hold your hand, I was going to say ‘No of course not’ but Yes seemed to come out of my mouth.
The operation actually only took fifteen minutes, your face covered except for your eye and lots of eye irrigating in between the action. Everyone says you just see a bright light, but I was sure I could see the surgeon working out of the corner of my eye. Near the end I had a glimpse out into the far reaches of the universe, or at least a pretty light display.
Then it was off to a different waiting room for a cup of tea and a choice of digestive or rich tea biscuits. I never saw the other Janet again, hopefully they had not lost her husband. My daughter did remember to pick me up.
Have you had your cataracts done or an operation awake?
Blogging break while I join the cataract club. Warning, image may not be accurate representation of cataract operation.
For those of you have been wondering since her last blog post, yes Samba is still missing, but presumably quite happy!
Someone thought they had found her in their kitchen, but it turned out to just be a gruffalo.
Tiny Tidalscribe – New in chatgpt – just ask to regain your younger self, but be careful to specify how far back you want to go.
Worried about AI and Chatbots taking over the world? Just ask if they are human…
How has your week been?
A nacation is when your neighbour, friend or relative goes off on an exotic holiday leaving you to put the bins out, feed the cat, take in parcels, water the garden and have the dog to stay. If you are lucky they might bring you back a holiday present, such as a packet of the local biscuits which taste even worse than the unknown makes from Better Bargains.
For the next three weeks I am watering next door’s garden while the family are on the other side of the Atlantic. A simple task with their designer minimalist garden, very different from mine, which I’m happy to do as Mr. Immaculate Gardener is always fixing things for me, painting my fences etc. But there was a security routine to go through since various incidents have been picked up by their multiple far reaching CCTVs . To save tramping through the house and switching the burglar alarm on and off, I just had to remember the number for the new combination lock on the side gates… and be shown burglar alarm procedure in the very unlikely event the alarm goes off accidentally.
I am used to visitors checking their phones and watching what is going on in their driveway and back garden. The days are gone when you did not know if your home was still in one piece till you came home again. My old school friend who lived in the same quiet road as me recalls her father notifying their local police station if they were going on holiday. Now you can phone your neighbour and ask them to take in the big parcel that is sitting in the rain on your doorstep.
Even as I was writing this blog an urgent WhatsApp message came from across the Atlantic. Was my virgin WI Fi working, because their CCTVs were not. Yes it was. I now had a new task so difficult he suggested I wait till after 4pm British Summer Time so they would be awake if there were any problems. I had to unlock the front door with 30 seconds to disarm the burglar alarm with the code. ‘I’m in’ I texted back. Now for the high tech part. Go to the utility room and fetch the broom. The Wi-Fi switch is behind the television set and inaccessible so lean over and switch it off with the end of the broom handle, then switch it on again, about as easy as switching switches with a bunch of bananas. But I did it and it just remained to switch the burglar alarm on again and get out of the house in 30 seconds and wait to hear if the CCTV came on again – it did.
We have had various traumatic nacation experiences in the past, like the time the hamster escaped from his rota stack cage while the patio doors were open. We had over two miserable weeks to wait till they got back from France to give them the news. I discovered years later that their son accused my son of being a hamster murderer!
Five houses ago next door had a white rabbit and what a happy bunny he was.- in summer when he romped freely in the back garden. Alas in winter he was confined to his small hutch and I was volunteered to feed him one Xmas holiday. Access involved trekking to the bottom of our garden, into the back lane and down their garden to the patio. He soon ran out of straw and his dry food looked boring so I brought him carrots and rabbit treats from the pet shop. In the middle of this spell of biting winds a fox or cat got to their council rubbish bag before the dustmen did. Their front garden was strewn with nappies and all sorts of revolting rubbish ( for people interested in the world of council rubbish collections we did not have wheelie bins there or food waste bins ) and I had to do a clean up operation. We didn’t even notice their return home as they never came and thanked us and never knew the stressful Xmas I had had!
More recently new neighbours were flying off to Greece in the school summer holidays. A dog sitter they had never met was coming down from Birmingham. As they were leaving in the early hours I was asked if I could just let the dogs out at 7am and give them their breakfast as the dog sitter was not expected till later in the morning. The dogs would be shut safely in the kitchen.
Sounded simple enough, but when I went round all the doors inside were open, the dogs were cowering on the sofa and in the large kitchen one or both of the dogs had had a serious stomach upset! I went home to get rubber gloves and serious cleaning stuff leaving the back door open. On my return the dogs refused to go in the garden… I enticed them out of the front room with their breakfasts. One dog went in the garden and the other dog ate two breakfasts… When I finally got them back indoors I had forgotten to shut the kitchen door so they raced upstairs.
Back home I relaxed with my breakfast, thinking all would be in the hands of the dog sitter soon, but I got a WhatsApp from Greece. The dog sitter had called to say she would be late, she and her little boy were stuck in holiday traffic. Could I let the dogs out again later. When I returned the dogs were hiding in the bedroom and refused to come out…. in the kitchen there was more cleaning up to do.
When I got a message to ask if the dog sitter had arrived yet I relayed the events and she soon messaged back to say her friends who had been enjoying a pub lunch by the river were now marching up the hill to come and take the dogs for a walk. When they arrived at my door so I could give them the key they thought I could come with them to the house as they had never met the dogs. The dogs still refused to come downstairs so they decided to sit downstairs and wait till the dogs calmed down. I went home and after a while they were back at my house having given up.
As we stood chatting out the front with a couple of other neighbours joining in, the dog sitter pulled up, surprised to see a welcome party. She must have been a dog whisperer as five minutes later she emerged with a happy boy and two happy dogs going off to the park.
I haven’t done any doggy tasks again, but have been messaged from Devon to check if one of the teenage daughters had left her hair straighteners on in the bedroom and to excuse the mess. Yes she had, when I eventually found them, but to be fair to the hair straighteners they were cold, so they must have had the initiative to turn themselves off.
Have you had any nacations this year?
A Traication is when you go on holiday by train so you cannot take everything but the kitchen sink. Packing has to be undertaken with great planning. I cheat by having a huge bag of stuff at the headquarters of Team H, so I only have to stuff clothes, Kindle, sandwiches and water in my rucksack, though it’s still heavy. People do get on the train with suitcases big enough for a kitchen sink and I have seen women with rucksacks big enough for a commando training exercise. My main aim is to be able to get on and off the train and negotiate the underground.
You could spend hours on line getting the best bargains by booking a specific train or a journey split into several stages on the same route. A friend naturally assumed you had to get off the train and catch a different one so she was surprised to hear on the last stage she could have stayed on the same train all the way. Goodness knows who thinks up these ideas. My off peak cardboard ticket, bought well ahead at our friendly ticket office, is an off peak return, leave on a specific date and return within a month, worrying for your hosts in case you stay with them for a whole month! If they ask what time train I want I explain I just want to turn up and get on the next train going to Waterloo and I especially want the trains to be running. The day I sauntered into the station to buy my ticket it seemed very quiet, it turned out there were no trains running due to a trackside fire further up the line. On the news that evening was film of passengers evacuated off the train and walking up the track.
Fortunately the day of my journey all was going well. The current government pledged to bring the railways back under state ownership and South West Trains were one of the first to be reclaimed last year and sport new livery as South Western Railway. If you had a Brio wooden railway when you were a child you will recall the carriages linked on by magnet. Our trains work just like that… I was waiting for the 11.22am and at 11.10 am four carriages arrived. At this point passengers either rush to get on or stand in confusion in case a different train has slipped in. A few minutes later another four carriages roll in behind and click on. So there is plenty of time to get on the train and no worry which carriage if you are going to Waterloo. But all may not be well if you have a specific ticket. There were regular/annoyingly frequent announcements…
‘If you have an evening out return or a summer special extra cheap off peak and it does Not say 11.22am, you are on the WRONG train and liable to pay another £40.
On the final stage of my journey, London Victoria to Margate, it was my turn to make sure I was on the right carriage, the rear four carriages. The advantage of a London terminus is trains end up at the buffers so what was the first carriage is the last carriage so I should be okay. After every single station would be a reminder that the train was going to split and the stations recited. After our carriage had disgorged quite a few passengers and with the moment of the great split fast approaching, a couple now had room to spread out their picnic and sat back and relaxed. Then one of them thought to lean over the aisle and ask another passenger where the train was going. When she said Margate there was panic and a gathering up of the picnic. They were right at the back of the train when they should have been at the front. The young woman said to them ‘Don’t stop, just keep going till you get to the driver’s cabin .’
My return journey from Waterloo was simple. The train arrived at the buffers with fifteen minutes to spare so we could get on and relax. All trains stop at Bournemouth and this train was going to unclick in half and carry on to two different directions. You really needed to pay attention to the announcements because even before the chopping in half there were some stations with short platforms so you had to make sure you were on the right carriage.
‘If you are getting off at Remote Halt you will need to be in the front three carriages, if you are going to Forest Dene you must be in carriages two, three and four. Passengers wishing to alight at Littledene should be in odd number carriages except one and seven. Passengers for Old Milton please make sure you are in the even number carriages except for two and six.
Have you had any interesting train journeys lately?
While others were in Norwegian fjords or on African safaris, I ventured ten minutes walk away from home for my staycation. Back at Chez Tidalscribe Cyberson Two and DIL Two were ripping out the bathroom. Not as scary as it sounds as Interiors are their business and this was their 49th bathroom.
My holiday home was a seaside let, a top floor flat with a balcony – not alas that yellow house of character with the turrets. A search revealed plenty of Air B&Bs near my house, including next door ( a converted garage ), but I thought I should enjoy a cliff top experience. I wanted a cliff top house when we moved to Bournemouth, but few were available, let alone in our price range.
I know other female bloggers go solo round the world on motorbikes or yachts so it is not very adventurous to go home for Cyberson’s home cooked meals and to collect anything you have forgotten… and to water my plants… and the garden as the heat wave had continued unabated.
What made it different from home? I was nearer my beach hut and the open top bus stopped almost outside. I could have my breakfast on the balcony and watch the world go by. At any moment, however early, there was always a dog walker on the cliff or a jogger on the pavement or a cyclist on the road. There was also traffic on the coast road, it was much noisier than my quiet little road.
There are clifftop views such as lighthouses looking over wild waves crashing on rocks and houses with back gardens on the edge of cliffs. There are still houses right on the edge in Southbourne, but lots more have long since crumbled down with the sandy cliffs, leaving only the roses and shrubs that once grew in their garden clinging to the cliffside.
However, I still had a view and at night there was the black sea straight ahead and to the west the lights of Bournemouth and Swanage and early in the morning sunrise from the bathroom window.
Inside it was clean and tidy with everything you could want if you were actually living and cooking there. The décor was white, literally, from the paint work to the bedding and towels. The only items not white were the artificial lawn on the balcony and the impossible to lift dark blue pottery mugs the size of hefty jugs. Lucky I could pop home and get my bone china tea mug. The bed was very comfortable, the sofa not so. I managed to work the television and get the WiFi so overall a good experience and I still miss the patter of tiny feet – the slip slap of the early morning joggers before the traffic got busy.
Have you been on a Staycation or had any holiday let experiences, good or bad?
If you are reading this I must have crawled out of the blog hole and my new computer has extended the digital hand of friendship to WordPress. Read about my Staycation soon.
