No place like gnome

I went to see the oncologist's (very nice) underling today.  She was a bit concerned that I hadn't yet been given an appointment to see an ophthalmologist (after all the hoo-ha when an optician spotted a variation in my pupil size a few weeks ago).  Bugger.  I'd been feeling fairly relaxed about the whole thing since the CT and MRI scans of my brain came back clear.  It seems there may still be cause for concern. 

I'm also going to have a chest x-ray next week (in addition to the scheduled CT scan at the end of the month) as I'm coughing quite a bit.  Hey ho.  Luckily I'm still suffering from jet lag after my Easter trip and that means I'm too knackered to get worked up about anything at the moment.

'Jet lag' I hear you cry in uncontrollable excitement, 'oh what wondrous foreign climes have you been exploring Disco Del'.  Well, let me tell you.  Pembrokeshire.  And going by how I feel today I can caterogically state that it is possible to suffer jet lag after a three and a bit hour drive from South Wales to Shropshire, so don't try to tell me otherwise.

Pembrokeshire was lovely.  Look:

Atmosphere in bucket loads

Spring time arrived (just)

Sunny Solva

We went with friends and their little boy.  So there were Easter egg hunts, football on the beach (although I was more of a spectator for this due to my lack of puff) and colouring in as well as the usual booze and sight-seeing.  So it was a brill holiday.  And lest you think I've gone soft in my old age ... if it's wrong to laugh at a six year old falling over and getting a proper drenching in a very cold sea then I don't want to be right.  Oh don't look at me like that, he was fine, if a little soggy round the edges.

True to form I kept an eye open for cats and found a humdinger up at the local church

Hiya Handsome

Then we returned home to an intriguing mystery.  A three foot tall plastic gnome has appeared in the back garden.  I've composed a short list of possible culprits which I'll be passing to CSI Shrewsbury shortly.  Here he is - I'm just hoping he doesn't invite any mates round.

And if anyone has any information on who placed him in the garden I'd be delighted to hear it.  Once I discover the identity of  the evil genuis behind this crime I will have my revenge.

Dangerous Del

Today I have been wildly reckless.  I have changed the quilt on my bed from winter to summer mode.  So now I'll be snoozing under 9 togs instead of the usual 15.  I know, CRAZY (given the erratic summer we're having here in England), but that's the way I roll.

I've been doing quite a lot of snoozing lately, either in bed or on the sofa.  I think it's due to the current chemo but as side effects go it could be so much worse, so I will cease my whinging here.

Before I move on from the subject of cancer I just thought I'd mention that Breakthrough Breast Cancer (one of the charities we will be raising funds for at the forthcoming barn dance) has merged with Breast Cancer Campaign to form Breast Cancer Now, the largest breast cancer charity in the UK.  The new website is still nauseatingly pink (don't start me on the whole pink thing) but other than that I'm impressed.  They seem to be taking metastatic breast cancer seriously and their new TV advert is, I think, spot on.  You can view it here.

I'm still obsessed by my tiny but, I think, lovely garden.  Here's the latest - front and back

This is what happens if you scatter poppy seeds with wild abandon (I will be starting an opium farm shortly)

Not content with sitting in my own garden I recently went on a tour of neighbourhood plots as part of the open gardens scheme.  It was a lovely sunny afternoon and at one point we were sat in someone's garden listening to a string quartet while drinking tea and scoffing cake.  It doesn't get much better than that.

Here are some edited highlights (and yes, I was very, very, jealous)

Herbaceous borders to kill for

Someone else with a poppy fetish

Swoon fest

 

shed envy

and scarecrows with attitude

And lest you think I have gone completely peculiar over plants, don't worry my number one concern remains mog-based.  I leave you with pictures of the cats I came across during my garden tour (all in all a blissful afternoon).

A Cyril look-a-like (apart from the full set of back legs)

Hello handsome

This one, Celeste, was in disgrace for bird murder (in full view of guests)

 

 

 

Oh yes, he knew he was beautiful

Summer shenanigans

I've had a busy few days and I'm in the mood to bore you with them now, so stand by.

Firstly the other-half and I (and lots of his family) went down to Guildford to help celebrate a family wedding.  It was lovely.  Happy couple, lovely atmosphere, delicious grub, 10/10.

We then spent the night in the noisiest hotel in the world.  We were kept awake by the sound of people coming back from hen/stag nights and other weddings, so for the most part although they were noisy they were jolly.  Not so on the third floor however (we were on the second floor which obviously attracted a better class of drunk).  One of my sister-in-laws* was on the third floor (say no more) and she had the thrill of listening to a drunken argument taking place in the next room at daft o'clock in the morning complete with random door knocking and the added delight of the row continuing when the guests woke up in the morning.  Deep joy.

(*You may have noticed that I allocate my three sisters numbers, nos 1, 2 and 3.  It may seem odd that I don't extend the same 'courtesy' to my sisters-in-law, but there are seven of them and it gets a tad confusing to say the least, especially as they won't keep still for five minutes).

After our sleep deprived night, we went on our weary way to Cornwall, where we stayed in a holiday cottage for a few days with two of my sisters-in-law and their husbands.  Those of you with no lives of your own will remember that I did the same last year.

Last year the weather was spectacular.  This year we feared the worst.  Monday was cold, rainy and increasingly stormy as the day wore on.  To add to the meteorological drama I decided to throw in some excitement of my own by suddenly feeling like, to use a medical term, a bag of bollocks, feeling incredibly cold and developing a rapidly increasing temperature.  The other-half rang my local chemo helpline and they said he should call an ambulance to get me to the local hospital.  He sensibly pointed out that we were in deepest rural Cornwall and it would be much quicker if he took me to hospital himself.  

This might sound a bit over dramatic but one of the problems with chemotherapy is that it can impair your immunity so infections can take hold very quickly and sometimes very nastily with the risk of neutropenia.  

So the other half and I and one of his sisters (riding shotgun) headed off for Truro hospital.  I did feel somewhat let down by said sister-in-law refusing to stick her head out of the car window as we drove along in the teaming rain and shout nee-na-nee-na like an ambulance siren.  Some people are just so unhelpful!

Anyway, we got to the hospital and I had urine and blood tests, an ECG and a chest x-ray.  But other than low pressure and a slightly high heart rate they could find nothing.  They suspected an infection of some kind but couldn't trace its source.  My white blood cell count was OK so thankfully they didn't keep me in but sent me home with a bucket load of antibiotics.  In fact the doctor looked at me and said "Hmm, if you were on a desert island I wouldn't bother having you airlifted off".  I'm still not sure if that was meant to be disdainful or reassuring.  Anyway, on the whole, the way and speed with which I was treated at Truro A&E was impressive. 

So we drove back in the dark and increasingly stormy night to the holiday cottage.  By this stage I was already feeling much better and let myself be plied with tea, toast and sympathy.  It was almost worth having felt grotty and enduring the scary car journey home.

The next day I felt fine.  The weather had transformed itself into warmth and sunshine, so we set off on a walk where we came to a beautiful deserted cove

complete with seals

and gorgeous wild flowers.

The walk ended up in the local pub, which is where it all went a bit haywire.  I'm afraid alcohol was taken, and quite a lot of it by me.  If I tell you I ended up playing pool and being a right old sweary Mary at the same time I'm sure you'll get the picture.

The next day was, of course, hangover hell.  Eventually I managed to get outside in the sunshine and walked (in a rather fragile manner) through a stunning meadow of buttercups

and along colourful roadsides

Seeing farm animals who clearly felt much like I did

(don't worry he wasn't dead, just having a snooze).

Sadly, the next day was time to come home (for a pre-arranged hospital appointment, big sigh).

Since coming home, as well as treading the straight and narrow, I have been lazing about (much like the pig only not in a cute way)

(please note that is WATER in the glass),

pottering in the garden with Cyril (the three-legged monster cat) taking residence, not very helpfully, in a seed tray.

Home isn't such a bad place to be.  Cornwall is stunning but, if I say so myself, I'm pretty chuffed just sitting and looking at my tiny garden 

I know it's too chaotic for a lot of people's taste, but it's exactly my cup of tea.

Hoping now for a couple of quiet-ish weeks so I can regain a bit more oompf to carry on with more summer shenanigans.  Ta ra for now.

Fancy pants

Hold on to your hats.  I have bought a sewing machine!  As if my adventures in knitting weren’t exciting enough I have decided to diversify. 

I’m starting out with something simple; pyjama bottoms - no button holes, no zips and, hopefully, no frayed temper.  Behold the material I’ve bought.   

Sunglasses on

My plan is that I’ll be able to read in bed solely by the light of my incredibly bright night attire – no lights needed. 

You may think this latest step into the world of make do and mend is foolish on my part, seeing as I haven’t really progressed beyond scarves in the knitting department.  However, I am inspired.  Of late I’ve been perusing (and enjoying) the sort of arty-crafty blogs where the writers skip around their beautiful gardens with a paint brush in one hand, embroidery threads in the other while home-schooling floral pinafore clad daughters with names like Marigold, Petunia and Cystitis (I may have made that last one up). 

While I can hardly compete with those blogs in the angelic offspring stakes I can offer a rosy-tinted shot of Cyril, the three-legged monster cat, in my beautiful garden

Butter wouldn't melt

You'd never know from this photo that Cyril has been to the vet for an infection picked up while fighting again.  He's right as rain now though (after a course of anti-biotics which were next to impossible to get him to swallow).

Anyway, my beautiful garden.  Look how things have come on in the horticultural department:

June 2013

March 2014 (complete with pensive other-half)

April 2014

June 2014

July 2014

Please be especially impressed by the 'memory path' which is filled with odds and ends from beach-combing and the like.

I know all this is shameless bragging but really it's nothing to do with me, it's all the work of the other-half.  Sometimes he has his uses.  

It was a shame then, that on the evening we decided to invite the other-half's family, Clan Wiggins, over it rained buckets.  However, we weren't going to let a little thing like rain put us off and so the other-half erected a make-shift tarpaulin-covered seating area - so the family were forced to sit outside and admire his handiwork.  

The other-half comes from a huge family.  This can make entertaining difficult as my idea of cooking is putting together a cheese and pickle sandwich and I can get even that wrong.  Never, on the night Clan Wiggins came over, have so many boxes of supermarket pre-cooked snacks been opened.  Truly I am the hostess with the mostest.  Some of the family stayed over and although I had stocked up with the ingredients for a cooked breakfast I didn't have to raise a finger as the other-half's sisters rode to the rescue.  Hurrah for the breakfast pixies and many, many thanks.  Without them I'd have been sobbing under the kitchen table having a panic attack.

Lest you think all my adventures have been home-based, I've been out and about.  I've been back to Ludlow and bought yet another hand-bound notebook and gone over the border into Wales to see the the UK's tallest single drop waterfall, Pistyll Rhaeadr. 

see bloke in red on bottom right for an idea of scale

It was magical, as was the surrounding countryside

 

If goblins don't live under this tree then my name's not Rumplestiltskin

 We stopped for a cuppa at a nearby (and very lovely) cafe and shared a cake with one of the locals

 We then went on to Lake Vyrnwy and had lunch in a very unlovely cafe.  We should've guessed what it was going to be like given the signs on the path

Once inside there were more signs forbidding you to move any of the tables.  I was too scared to take photos of these as, surprisingly enough, the owners were not very friendly.  We sat outside in a rather rancid marquee type veranda.  I'm really glad the sun was shining as inside the cafe building they appeared to be playing things like this on a continual, hellish loop.  However, even this horror couldn't spoil the gloriousness of the day and the view.

Ignore the power lines, you picky sods

I'm not sure if it was all the gadding about, the side effects of the chemo (still mercifully few) or good old cancer related fatigue but I did end up pretty tired for a good few days.  I was forced to rest up at home and eat food that even I could cook

Many thanks for the spiffy new egg cup J!

But I suspect my tiredness was as nothing compared to that of my ex-husband who ran the Shrewsbury half-marathon in blistering heat for Breakthrough Breast Cancer (a charity I've got a lot of time for), so hats off to him.  Also hats off to Frances, who took part in a recent Race for Life bearing my name on her competitor's bid.  Thanks Frances

That's all the news from Discombobulated Towers for the time being. I'm off to do battle with my new sewing machine in the hope that next time I'll be able to post a photo of my luminous new PJ bottoms.  You lucky devils you!

 

Gardeners' Question Time

A couple of posts ago I wrote about how the back garden has looked like this

ever since the builders left, after using it as a storage area, last June.  This despite the fact that the other-half used to garden for a living.  Well I'm pleased to say he finally ran out of excuses (one being 'I've got gardeners' block') and now it has been transformed.  

Behold the new garden:

Ha ha ha.  I am very funny.

Actually it looks like this:

It all looks a bit plinky plonky at the moment but once the plants start growing it'll be a thing of beauty.  We haven't replaced the grass opting instead for flowers in the hope of encouraging bees.  This may be a tad foolish as the other-half is wildly allergic to wasp stings.  He's never been stung by a bee so we've no idea how he'd react but maybe I'd better think about life insurance.  The eagle-eyed among you may be wondering why there is an unconnected shower head fixed to the shed (far left).  It's because, here at Discombobulated Towers, we are not afraid to embrace the twee.

Talking of twee I went shopping in lovely Ludlow the other day.  I meant to buy sensible things like toilet rolls and socks.  Instead I came home with a handbound notebook, a quince for the garden and an hourglass.  That's just the kind of town Ludlow is.  I've been sad enough to check and it actually takes 62 minutes for the sand to trickle from the top to the bottom of the hourglass.  Should I ask for a refund?

I had chemo yesterday and, after feeling like a dog's dinner last time, I am stuffed to the gills with anti-nausea medicine.  On the plus side I have spent the day lying on the sofa with the cat, a packet of ginger biscuits and a book about the nasty Normans duffing up the Ango-Saxons.  I've had worse Wednesdays.

Challenges

Challenge 1

A thousand years ago (oh alright, last year) we had building work done at Discombobulated Towers which, although a lengthy and often infuriating process, resulted in me having the Best Kitchen in the World (I might be a tad biased on this one).

The only problem has been the total destruction of my garden.  The tiny garden was the only place the builders could store their materials.  So it went from something like this

to utter devastation.  However the builders finished and moved out months and months ago and yet the garden still looks like this

Ok,  he's painted and moved the shed but let's not split hairs

Given that the other-half used to garden for a living this is a very sorry state of affairs.  Initially he claimed to have gardeners block, then he told me he’d lost his gardening mo-jo (full marks for inventive excuses).  Then, just as he’d got his motivation back, the rain started.  It rained cats and dogs and rats and elephants for months and months and months.  Well now the deluge has ceased and, by happy co-incidence, the other-half has next week off work.  He has promised that I will have a garden by the end of next week.  So I’m using this blog to encourage* him.  I will post another picture at the end of next week so you can see if he’s kept his word.  Gardner’s block my arse!

*I say encourage, I mean, of course, threaten.

Challenge 2

My old chum Al is running a half-marathon in June and will be raising money for Breakthrough Breast Cancer, a charity which, among other things funds the development of new treatments.  If anyone has any spare bundles of cash lying around you can sponsor him here.

Actually I'm not telling the entire truth when I call Al an old chum.  He is, in fact, my ex-husband. Still, water under the bridge and all that.  Running a ridiculous distance for a breast cancer charity is a lovely thing to do.  Smiley face.  And of course I wouldn't dream of standing in the crowd waiting to trip him up.  Or would I?  Sinister laugh.  I only say this to encourage him*.  See, now I've planted the seeds of doubt in his mind the least you could do is sponsor him.  No pressure.  

*I say encourage, I mean, of course, threaten.