Upsilon Gway means a limping Z

I met my match in Portugal. I managed the uphill walks to the forts and then to the battlements (I’ll download the pictures sooner or later and might show you one or two) but by Friday I just wanted to rest. It wasn’t that it hurt so very much, but that I didn’t want to go home in poorer condition than I’d left. Actually, two lovely sunny days and a gentle stroll or two was fine.

Nevertheless, I’ve finally admitted to myself that I don’t want to wait another year. And I’m usually busy, and the start of the year is the least busy. The clincher was reading, last night, the itinerary of the visit to Glasgow I’ve signed up for in May and dreading it, although I want to go.

So I’m phoning the surgery for an appointment tomorrow and am setting things in motion. I hope I’m offered an epidural – isn’t the thought of hearing your thigh being sawn through a weirdly thrilling one? No, don’t say it’s just me. Actually, I suspect they’ll suggest I bring in my iPod and drown out the whirr.

Anyway, I peered out at the dismal weather this morning and asked the Sage if it was going to rain again. He said it was clearing up. So, with my usual trusting innocence, I got my bike out, looked for gloves, couldn’t find a matching pair except for fingerless gloves and set off. It was a cheerless journey – it wasn’t exactly raining but there was a liquidity about the air that hung about. I fished a bag out of my pannier to put over the saddle while I was shopping.

When I came out of the first shop, it was raining. I cycled down the road, reparked and went into another shop. It started to rain harder. I engaged the shopkeeper in conversation so that I could stay indoors.

When it cleared up (relatively, it was still damp) I went home. The Sage was out. I hadn’t taken a key. I remembered those happy childhood days when we never locked our house, even when we went on holiday. My father always said that, with our huge windows, a locked door was more inconvenience to us than a potential burglar. I went to ask Dilly for the key and was met in the hall by Squiffany. “Hello, Zerlina” I said, to my embarrassment, especially when she laughed and went to tell her mother.

Weeza and Zerlina were spending the afternoon with Dilly and family, in fact, so I had the chance to give them the presents I’d brought from Portugal, which did indeed include port. Zerlina has grown so much in a couple of weeks – she’s not at all a baby now. Pugsley came running over to kiss me, which delighted me.

Weeza noticed my limp and a discussion began. I allowed her and Dilly to advise me. They encouraged me to go and spend a lot of money on myself to cheer myself up. I told them I’m going to buy the Sage a laptop for Christmas, on Tuesday, and give it to Ro to set it up. I hope he’ll do it before The Day though, as otherwise we’ll spend the whole time clustered around it being helpful and frustrating its new owner. Better if he has a week’s playtime first.

14 comments on “Upsilon Gway means a limping Z

  1. Four Dinners

    I love Portugal.

    You been to Lisbon? Lovely city but an incredible amount of graffiti.

    Mind you, outside the shops are glass case with cigarette lighters and even watches in them.

    Nobody breaks in them to steal! Extraordinary.

    In Hayes they’d nick the entire case.

  2. Wendy

    Ew! Being awake for an operation, I mean.

    Martin told me last night about his Mom having cataracts removed from her eyes, and they actually removed her eyeball from the socket whilst she was AWAKE. I went cold and squidgey inside at the thought. (I wonder if her vision went haywire – like when you don’t know a video camera is on and the resulting film is crazy and all over the place?) Or maybe Martin was pulling my leg. He does that. A lot.

    Anyway good luck. And Ew! again.

    Oh and Z – I have started (again – sigh) a new blog. Over here:


  3. Dave

    When I had my cataract removed they just cut a small slit in the eye, break up the cataract and remove it, and insert a new lens. No need to remove the eye itself. I was wide awake while it was going on.

  4. Z

    No, I’ve not been to Portugal. Wink and the Bod are thinking of a city break at some time.

    I have a macabre side to me, LOM & Mago.

    Dave, I said “included”. The children had non-alcoholic presents. What do you take me for – wasting good booze on toddlers?

    Anon, brass monkey weather.

    The climb uphill at Monchique and Lagos were the steep ones, Christopher. I adored Sagres and Cape St V and happily scrambled about the clifftop. It was, however, after the day we went to those last three places that I decided to limit the walking I did. It’s taken me a week to get over it.

    If in doubt, assume that Martin’s teasing, I think, Wendy. The alternative is too disturbing. Dave’s description is quite meaty enough for me “just” cut a small slit in the eye, by gum!

  5. Sarah

    Ahhhh a holiday in the sun….just what I need. Tt seems like a long time ’til May and my trip to scorchio Libya.

    Sedation is a good alternative to a general….I had them fishing around inside me for hours, whilst under a sedative…didn’t feel a thing…. and it wares off instantly, unlike a general. Which has you staggering around like a drunken spider for days.

  6. Z

    Well, they chuck you out so quickly, don’t they? When my mother got home, she kept getting out of bed and rambling around and knocking things over and then kneeling down to pick them up, not the most sensible thing with a new hip. In the end, I shouted at her.

    A couple of days later, she couldn’t remember any of it.


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