I’d caught right up with blogs and now I’ve let them all go again. Sorry, I’ll try to visit in the next few days. I’m afraid that I have to spend hours winding down in the evening nowadays and I can’t turn the computer off, go to bed and hope to sleep any more, so I neither have time to read nor write. I don’t mind getting old, darlings, there’s quite a lot that I rather like (though I reserve the right to change my mind completely if I develop any of a dismal range of ailments) but there are a few things I hadn’t quite expected.
The need to relax for a long time before I can sleep is probably not age-related, but a diminution of ability to work in the evening probably is. I used to prefer evening meetings as they didn’t cut into my day, but now I would rather not. I still don’t go to bed early, thank goodness – I can do without a complete change in habits – but I mostly like to read in silence. I rarely put the television on. What is good is that I’m not lonely or unsettled when it’s quiet.
Mind you, those concerts I went to a few weeks ago have cured my problems about listening to music. It shows that you can be too gentle on yourself and that sometimes forcing the issue can do away with its difficulties.
A disconcerting aspect of knocking on a bit (I don’t think I’m actually old, that’s not really the point, except that I’m maybe being shown that my body is a bit older than I feel it is) is the lack of strength in my fingers. Difficulty in opening jars and bottles is something that happens to other people – but no, that’s not true any longer. It happened to other people. I used cheerily to knock the side of a jar on the floor and then just open it, but now I usually can’t. Actually, I’ve hurt the side of my right hand, the little finger side, maybe by trying to open something awkward, and now it’s very difficult to cut up food when I’m preparing to cook it. I had to have the chorizo in my supper in large chunks because I couldn’t chop them. A large chunk fell on the floor when it shot away from my knife, to Ben’s pleasure. It’ll get better in a few days, but it’s a dismal reminder that the day will come when it won’t and I will have to buy food already cut up and ready to cook. It’s never done as I would. Oh dear.
I’ve been very sociable for the last week, and when I took my guest back to the station on Thursday evening – that is, when I’d taken her – it struck me that it was the first time I’d been alone since the previous Saturday and I felt a bit lost for a few minutes. I needed to fill the car, so went off to the Co-op and bought nice food before doing so, salad and raspberries and chicken and duck breast and éclairs. And some roses for myself. I’m buying myself flowers regularly. Like cooking delicious food and building cheery log fires, it’s part of making sure I feel looked after. It’s fine that it’s me doing the looking after, sometimes.
Mike and Ann took me out to lunch on Friday to a nice local pub that has a good log fire as well as tasty food. We all opted for fish pie and bread and butter pudding . Their company was a delight and I thank them very much. In the evening, Roses invited me and Indigo for supper which was also a great pleasure. After her lamb stew and chocolate pudding, I felt I should tokenly diet for the weekend, but I’m not, of course.
Ben wanted to come upstairs with me last night, so I invited him onto my bed and he slept there by my side, which was lovely. He was very good. He’s been sweet and loving recently, ever since I gave him away, dammit. But I still know I’m doing the right thing.
And today, I received a delivery of beautiful orchids from the London friend who stayed on Wednesday night. She doesn’t use her blogname any more and was careful of her privacy, so I won’t identify her.