Buddha, Frida and Some Mermaids

This is a view of the side yard at the house where we're staying. The camper belongs to the neighbors, but we also have a camper, a trendy little teardrop-shaped thing sitting by the front gate. We have been informed that it is not part of the lease, so sadly, I can't look inside it. (Except through the windows.)

The big turquoise Buddha head, believe it or not, is only one of several big Buddha heads we have lying around. Whoever decorated this place has a definite affinity for Buddhist imagery, as well as tropical prints and...

...Frida Kahlo.

Here's our groovy little kitchen, which believe it or not has both a washing machine and a miniature dishwasher despite its small size. The fridge is one of those little college dorm models, but it's enough for us under these circumstances.

As the day dawned yesterday morning -- the shortest of the year -- I looked out that window over the kitchen sink and saw some trash blowing around in the front yard. Sure enough some animals had pulled bags of rubbish out of our bin and strewn it around. The bin is so full of trash from previous renters that the lid won't close, which is a problem. I collected and re-bagged all the rubbish (ugh), put it back in the bin and wired the lid closed, as best I could, with an old coat hanger. Now I just have to remember to take the wire off in time for collection tomorrow morning. It seems to be my lot in life to manage the world's refuse.

We ordered groceries yesterday morning, and then promptly realized we'd forgotten paper towels and wine, which are pretty much essentials as far as I'm concerned. So I walked to the nearest convenience store before lunch and bought a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a kitchen roll.

Otherwise, we barely left the house. Well, Dave didn't leave it at all, and Olga only ventured as far as the yard.

I tried to get her to walk on the beach with me in the afternoon, but she was having none of it. I don't blame her, really. It rained all morning and ever since it's been blowing a gale out there.

Which is good for the offshore wind farm that we can see from the back deck. All the turbines are topped with flashing red lights that pulse on the horizon at night. It's kind of a cool effect. (This was taken at low tide, hence all the exposed sand. I'm not sure what that green buoy is for, but there are oyster-farming frames nearby so maybe it has something to do with those.)

Also enjoying the wind was an incredibly cold-hardy windsurfer. And see those weird things on the horizon? Those are Maunsell Forts, which were erected at the mouth of the Thames during wartime to guard the estuary. They're abandoned now, and apparently it's possible to take a boat tour out there, but Dave vetoed that idea. I guess being bounced around in an Uber was enough for him, in his post-surgical state. He doesn't need bouncing in a boat, too.

It's supposed to be windy today but not rainy, so I'm hoping to get out for some more walking.

A Long Car Trip

Well, we have made it to Whitstable, via a very long and somewhat strange Uber trip. Which I will get to in a moment.

First, can you believe that I actually went to work yesterday morning? There were a couple of things nagging at me. I wasn't able to finish the re-shelving on Wednesday because a holiday party (unknown to us until the last minute) was starting in the library at 3 p.m. Being an organizationally obsessed librarian, I couldn't stand the thought of all those books just lying around for a couple of weeks and then having to deal with them upon my return. I wanted to take down our holiday decorations. And one of my co-workers has a plant in her windowless office and I suspected she'd forgotten to move it to a windowed room so it could get some light during our absence (when her office lights would obviously be off). I had to take care of that stuff.

And I did. The books are back on the shelf, the decorations are in their boxes, the plant is by the window. Also, a student left a bag in the library containing some Christmas food in plastic containers, and that would have been disgusting by January, so I brought it home and cleaned the containers out. I'll put it in the lost & found and if no one collects it, free food storage containers for me!

Thus, my conscience assuaged, I was ready to embark on our crazy journey. With the car arriving at 3 p.m., we packed in the afternoon -- including Dave's fruit basket -- and were ready when Jean-Claude, our Congolese driver, rolled up right on time. Olga climbed into the back seat with us and we were off.

I was a bit apprehensive about having to converse with a driver for the two hours or so we'd be in the car, but it turned out Jean-Claude was on the phone to his brother in Africa, and they chatted for a good half of the trip. And then, when he hung up, Jean-Claude cranked Christmas tunes by the likes of Jessie J, Celine Dion, Pentatonix and Gwen Stefani. (Some guy named Teddy Swims sings a mean version of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.") Clearly Jean-Claude did not expect conversation from us, which was a relief.

His SatNav directed him through Highgate and Hackney to the Blackwall Tunnel, which meant sitting in a lot of city traffic. Olga was intrigued by the views, but once the sun went down, she settled into an awkward sleeping position with her hind end on the back seat, her front legs on the floor and her head resting on the center console between the front seats. She did indeed fall asleep that way.

At some point, rocketing along the A2 between Gravesend and Rochester, I turned to Dave and said, "This is a very surreal trip. We have a pineapple in the trunk!"

We got to our cabin after dark and got in with no trouble. As you can see, it's a very cute, quirky place with a glass wall that looks out on a deck. Beyond that, which you can't see (and neither have we, really), is the beach and the North Sea.

We ordered fish & chips from the local chippy, I made a martini and Olga explored the property inside and out with her acute canine olfactory skills. (In other words she sniffed everything.) I was pretty smart about the packing this time, I think, bringing some things like a martini glass and my favorite coffee mug that make my routines more comfortable.

It's still dark as I write this, but I'm eager to see our view when the sun comes up!

Decompression

Yesterday was glorious. I finally, finally got more or less caught up in blogland, answering comments and reading other blogs. It's been weighing on me that I've been a bad blogger the past couple of weeks, since my job got so hectic and Dave had his surgeries, and it feels good to have touched base with most of my blog pals.

I don't want to play the world's tiniest violin, but I think this period has been harder on me than even I have fully understood. Work has been very stressful -- and not the individual tasks themselves, but the overarching sense of pressure since my co-worker left. It's not just that there's a lot to do. There's a constant frantic edge to everything, and there's less placid routine and more wobbly variation. I think some people thrive in that kind of environment, and even enjoy and perhaps subconsciously encourage it, because it makes them feel needed and valued. I am not one of those people. So now, behind going to work every day, there is a constant looming thought: "Do I really need this job?"

Sadly, the answer probably still is yes, for the time being. I'm only (!) 58 years old. I'd like to put in 15 years before I quit, and I'll start my 15th year as a librarian in 2027. But I have been mulling retirement for a while now and that thought is never far from my mind. As I wrote the other day, my departed colleague's replacement is due to start in several weeks and that may absorb some of the unpleasantness. But her position has been cut from full to part-time, so we'll still be less fully staffed than we were.

Anyway, all this to say again that yesterday was glorious. In the morning I sat on the couch with some coffee and just did nothing. I let my mind go blank. I watched the birds on the bird feeders. I let my mouth hang slack and my eyes go glassy. I think Dave thought I was having a stroke.

In the afternoon I read "What Time of Night Is It?" by Mary Stolz, the sequel to "Go and Catch a Flying Fish," which I read in the spring. They're books about a family living on the Gulf Coast of Florida in the late 1970's, and the kids in the book are exactly the age of me and my brother. I identify so strongly with the descriptions of the landscape and wildlife, the weather patterns, the overall atmosphere of a less-developed Florida at that time. Hurricanes David and Frederic figured in the plot, and I remember the summer of those storms (1979). Stolz was essentially writing about my childhood. I enjoyed the book a lot.

In the afternoon we got a big box delivered to the door -- a "Get Well" fresh fruit basket from some of Dave's colleagues. It was a very kind gesture but rather ill-timed given that we're leaving town for a week today! We may have to take the grapes and bananas with us. I think everything else will last until we get back. Can a whole pineapple go in the refrigerator?

Remember how I promised to go back at night to check out those weird, Skylab-like light fixtures on Carnaby Street? Well, last evening I took the train down to Westminster and walked around Soho to see some of the sights. Above you'll see a brief video that answers the question of what the Skylab lights look like when lit, and hopefully helps you experience some London Christmas magic.

Coming to you tomorrow from Whitstable, if all goes as planned!

(Top photo: An autumnal hydrangea leaf I found on the patio yesterday morning.)

Night Dog

A rose bud appeared on one of our bushes a couple of weeks ago. I was surprised because this is not really the season for roses, but the bud lingered. It grew very slowly and with our chilly weather and low light, I was afraid it would drop if I left it in the garden. So a few days ago I cut it and brought it inside, and it has blossomed beautifully in the warmth of the house.

Any thoughts I had of sleeping in on our winter break were shattered this morning when the dog got me up at 4:30 a.m. She is very insistent about her morning routines, and one of them is rising early. I remember after my grandfather retired back in the early '70s, he continued to get up every morning at some ridiculous hour, as if he still had to climb into his car and drive into Washington D.C. to go to work. And my grandmother would rise as usual to make him breakfast -- even though neither of them had to be anywhere. The habits of a lifetime are hard to break. So it goes with Olga.

A couple of nights ago she got us up in the middle of the night. This was not routine. She was panting and we couldn't figure out what was wrong. I let her outside and gave her a paracetamol, and she lay on the floor of the living room for a while, and then she was fine. I think she either had to go out, or her achy joints were acting up, or she was overheated -- or a combination of the three.

While we were both up, I decided to experiment with the low-light photography capabilities of my phone. The iPhone can do amazingly well in minimal light. The picture above was taken in our dark living room -- and when I say dark I mean DARK, as in, I could barely see myself. There was moonlight outside, but as you can see the brightest lights were the red glow from the TV power strip and the green light on the DVD player. And the phone still managed to produce a picture. Kind of cool.

I hope to get out a bit during the daylight hours today. I've had barely any sunlight on my skin for a couple of weeks now!

A Slightly Surreal Post

I often walk past this house in St. John's Wood on my way home from work. They really do it up for the winter holidays, as they also do for Halloween. They must have a whole room dedicated to storing inflatables and lights. It looks like a pretty big house so I guess they can spare the space.

Today is our last day before Winter Break, and I thought it was going to be a half-day -- but it turns out that no, it's a full workday. And we do still have kids around, though many of them have already departed on their holiday travels. It hopefully won't be too busy, and I do have some cleaning up to do in the library so it's just as well.

And now for the surreal part of the post:

This gigantic green, smiling banana just appeared the other day in the senior student gathering spot. Who knows why? For a while it was in the center of the action, but now it has been banished to the top of a shelf, where it looks like it could roll down on someone at any moment. (It wouldn't do any harm.)

And here's another house I sometimes pass on my way home from work -- with the sculptured spider and goldfish outside. Last night they were still ornamented with skeletons (including a fish skeleton), presumably for Halloween. Maybe they'll be wreathed in holly for Easter.

I think the house belongs to this guy, who describes himself online as an Austrian surrealist artist and "keeper of spider house."

Last night our TV entertainment was a movie called "The Invasion" with Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig. Through the whole thing I kept saying, "This is just like 'The Invasion of the Body Snatchers'!" Well, it turns out to have been a deliberate remake of that sci-fi classic -- but not so deliberate that it's a mirror image. It came out in 2007 and apparently didn't do all that well, and it is a bit clunky despite a high-profile cast including Veronica Cartwright, Jeremy Northam, Jeffrey Wright and Celia Weston. But it was diverting and it got my mind off work, which seems to occupy all my time at the moment.

I got some good work-related news yesterday, though. We've extended a job offer to a new assistant, to replace my colleague who departed in October, and I believe that offer has been accepted. So my workload should lighten when she joins the team at the end of next month. Maybe I'll even have time to answer blog comments!

No More Tomato

Well, "the tomato" is gone, thank God. Dave had it removed yesterday morning, but not without some confusion. We went to the hospital at 8 a.m. or so, armed with the discharge letter that told us to be there that day. We went to the emergency room, which is where we were told to go. And of course no one there expected us and they looked at the letter like it was written by an ancient race in an incomprehensible cuneiform script.

We sat down in the waiting room. And waited. And waited some more.

Finally the nurses called Dave back and said the doctors wanted a blood test first, and both Dave and I got a bit cranky about not being told what's going on. We did not want to be delayed by a blood test, the results of which might not be available for hours. So they called the doctor to come and speak to us, and meanwhile we were sent back to the waiting room, where we waited some more.

Finally they suggested drawing the blood anyway, just to get things moving until the doctor appeared. Dave consented and that was done and not too much later, we were called back. The drain was removed, Dave spoke to the doctor about his healing, expectations for his movement and diet, and how to get his surgical staples removed in about a week. (It never ends!) We told the doctor we planned a Christmas trip to Whitstable and the doctor didn't seem fazed by that at all, so I took that as a good sign -- I was afraid he'd gasp, "Why, you can't travel NOW!"

Then we were back in an Uber headed for home, and I got myself to work by 11 a.m. or so, managing to salvage most of a very busy workday.

Last night, prompted by a comment on yesterday's post by Ms. Moon, we watched another Christmas movie -- "The Family Stone." I think I've seen it before, many years ago, because I remembered the gay son with hearing loss. But I remembered nothing and no one else, which is odd because it's a very good movie with an illustrious cast. We both enjoyed it a lot and of course we teared up in all the right places. I haven't cried at a movie in a long time but that one made it happen.

(Photo: Christmas decorations at a nursing home in St. John's Wood. It looks like work is being done on the facade which is why there's also a scaffold. Clearly they don't use that main door!)

Goldfinches and 'White Christmas'

As I looked out the back door yesterday morning, watching the squawky parakeets on our bird feeder, I caught sight of this pair of goldfinches feasting on our teasel seeds. I've always read that goldfinches like teasels, and I always leave some up through the winter to give them foraging opportunities. But the goldfinches in our 'hood often seem to go for other plants, like the verbena or the tamarisk. I'm glad this time they were appreciating the food I deliberately left for them!

We pre-ordered an Uber (and yes, we got an Uber Pet!) to take us to Whitstable on Friday. It turned out to be not nearly as expensive as I feared -- about £130. Of course there will be a tip on top of that, but it's still a pleasant surprise and it will be so much easier than the train with incapacitated Dave and ancient, creaky Olga. Not to mention all our luggage, which I would otherwise have to carry on my own since Dave is under strict instructions to lift nothing heavier than a tea kettle.

He's supposed to get "the tomato" removed today, so we're off to the hospital as soon as I finish this post. No one has contacted us about exactly where to go or when to be there, so we're flying in the dark here, but I have faith that when we arrive someone will take care of us. Removing a drain should be an easy task.

When it came time for our evening TV ritual, Dave wanted to watch a Christmas classic, so we opted for "White Christmas" with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye, from 1954. Somehow I had never seen it, at least not that I remember. Dave thought he'd seen it before but he didn't remember specifics so it was like new to him, too. Vera Ellen, who played one of the lead parts, was an amazing dancer but she looked unusually skinny, and sure enough I read online afterwards that she struggled with anorexia -- back before it was fully recognized as a condition. And every time I see Rosemary Clooney I can't help singing, "Extra value is what you get when you buy Coronet!"

Anyway, it was an enjoyable movie in the slightly tedious way of many '50s musicals.

I woke up in the middle of the night and stepped outside for some air. I saw the moon, almost full, behind scudding clouds. Isn't it cool that everyone on the planet sees the same moon in their skies, in the same phase? It's unifying.

Finally, a Day of Rest

The hellebores in the back garden have opened -- and I was amazed to see that even in mid-December, this one had little aphids on it. It's been a pretty warm winter so far and in any event, I have no idea what aphids do in winter. Maybe they're always around.

Yesterday was a calm, relaxing day -- exactly what Dave and I both needed. We had a professional gardener come over in the morning to give us an estimate on pruning our front garden, and I had him look at the back as well. I want him to give us some idea of the work that needs to be done there. I doubt we'll hire him for both jobs -- he's my neighbor's gardener and she says he's expensive -- but you never know. It would be nice to have a professional give everything a once-over.

I went grocery shopping, stocking up on some soft food for Dave like yogurt, cottage cheese, fruit juice and mashed potatoes. (You can buy them pre-mashed, thank goodness. I'm sure I already knew that but it was nice to discover it again.) And of course they didn't have everything I needed at Waitrose so I wound up going to Tesco too.
 

I repotted our newest rescued houseplant, this little variegated rubber tree I found abandoned on the corner last week. See that black vessel in the foreground? That's what it came in, but it's a terrible pot -- no drainage hole, comically small, and the black chalky coloring rubs off on my hands. I put the tree in a bigger clay pot where it has room to grow, even though the last thing we need is another gigantic plant.

I spent the afternoon reading and trying to get food into Dave. I think he's experiencing some post-surgical depression. He has seemed very subdued, and said last night that he's struggling with feelings of mortality -- particularly after watching his roommate John slowly dying in the next bed. I told him that was perfectly understandable -- it was hard even for me to see John, and I was there only an hour or two each day. I think this will lift as Dave gets stronger and after he gets rid of "the tomato" (see previous post).

Also, we have Whitstable coming up next weekend, and I hope a holiday escape may do him some good -- even if it merely means resting there, with a view of the sea, rather than here.

I also paid a large chunk of our British taxes yesterday, so that's mostly off my shoulders. There's still a balance due but I can pay the rest in January. (For cash flow reasons I can't do it all now, and they're not due until Jan. 31.)

I bought a bottle of gin at Tesco and made an evening martini, which I badly needed after a hellish week. I was going to take this picture with Dave in his chair, but as it turned out he was up doing something at that moment and he wouldn't want to be photographed anyway. He never does.

Olga is saying, "Oh, Lord, the martinis have appeared. It's going to be a long night!"

But it wasn't. I only had one, while watching "Valley of the Dolls." Saturday night in West Hampstead! Sparkle, Neely, sparkle!

Homecoming

While walking the dog yesterday morning, I came across this advertisement on one of our characteristically filthy public phone boxes. Marijuana is not legal in the UK except for certain prescribed medical uses, as I understand it -- so I'm not sure what "legal weed" means. But I thought the doobie-smoking Santa was kind of amusing.

So, YES! Dave is home! I went to the hospital after lunch yesterday and collected him. One of his co-workers very kindly sent him a wedge pillow and a blanket via Amazon, which arrived at his hospital bed in a gigantic box yesterday morning. Of course Dave can't carry anything, so that meant I had to carry Dave's backpack containing his clothing and personal effects, that big box and my own stuff from work. Plus I had the poor foresight to buy a cup of coffee just before we left the hospital. So my hands were more than full.

We said goodbye to John, Dave's terminally ill roommate. I heard John telling someone on the phone that the doctors told him he would be lucky to see January. Given his condition, I'm not sure that would actually be lucky. The medical staff are apparently trying to find him a Hospice bed.

Somehow we got everything into an Uber and home. Dave rested for a few minutes in his chair before taking a shower, which he pronounced a "glorious" experience.

Olga, meanwhile, was happy to see him but not inordinately so. She acts like he left yesterday. I don't think she has any sense of time.

My main concern now is getting him to eat. He's supposed to have soft food, like soups, Jell-O, mashed potatoes and stuff like that. He's just not very hungry, though. I made him some chicken broth and white toast last night, and he ate a little of it but not much. He did eat an ice cream bar for dessert, though, so at least he got some calories. He said he might try an egg this morning.

He has to go back to the hospital outpatient clinic on Monday for a checkup and to get his drain removed. This drain is a sort of vacuum bottle that is meant to collect fluid from his wound, and everywhere Dave goes he has to carry it in his hand. It's about the grossest thing in the world -- I call it "the tomato" -- and I will be glad to see it gone.

I finally got caught up on some blogs last night and answered some comments. I'm hopeful I can keep abreast of things better now that I don't have to make my way to the hospital every night. Meanwhile, if Dave needs medical marijuana, we know who to contact!

Buzzzzzzzing

I took this picture on the way home from the hospital last night. The billboard is advertising the Buzz coffee shop that I depicted here, as well as a co-working space. And then I thought the picture was a little lame by itself, so I ran it through Waterlogue to turn it into a watercolor painting.

Here's the original:

I finally have some good news from this corner of the world -- Dave is being told he can come home from the hospital today. Woo hoo! When I went to see him yesterday he was much more clear-headed than the day before and pretty stir-crazy. He's off his pain meds and he's disconnected from most of the tubes and things that were weighing him down, so he is ready. As he said, "I'm done!"

He thinks it will be late this afternoon before he is released, so I'm going to work as usual and I'll leave early to meet him and bring him home. He will be so much happier here. He'll have his chair and the TV, and good Internet, and Olga (although he's got to keep her off his lap!). Also, in the hospital, the guy in the bed across from Dave is terminally ill, and while he is the nicest guy in the world -- almost 30 years younger than we are -- it must be psychologically hard on Dave. It would be on me.

I am so looking forward to a weekend. This week has been brutal. I'll be catching up in blogland and hopefully doing some more reading -- with both Dave and Olga in the room!

Darkness

We are days away from the darkest depths of the year, and my photography is reflecting that. I'm never outside when it's daylight, except on my walk to work! And even then, the light is rather gray -- the "wan sun" striking "tin glints" that Sylvia Plath mentioned in her wintry poem Parliament Hill Fields.

Yesterday was another work, work, work kind of day -- a steady stream of tasks. I actually ate lunch at my desk because no one was available to cover for me, so in between bites I was up helping students. It is just a relentless pace.

I went to see Dave in the evening. On the one hand, he seems to be making progress. We walked around the seventh floor and talked to have some privacy away from his "roommates." But on the other, he seems a bit foggy.

"I never expected to have surgery twice in the same day," he said last night.

"Dave, your surgeries weren't on the same day," I replied. "Your first surgery was Friday, and your second was Sunday."

He looked at me skeptically. I think he has completely lost that intervening day. I know time has a way of telescoping and collapsing in the hospital, but still -- that freaked me out a little. 

Anyway, he's still not on solid food, and I've been unable to connect with the doctor to find out why. I think he may begin eating today. Dave has promised to ask the doctor to call me, so we shall see.

Two of Olga's Kong toys have disappeared. For years, she's had three of them, and I can only find one. I have looked under every stick of furniture and all over the garden. I think she may have left them outside to be spirited away by foxes. You may think that unlikely, but it has happened in the past. It's annoying because Kongs are expensive, but fortunately she's not as obsessively attached to them as she used to be.

While walking her yesterday morning I found yet another abandoned houseplant, a rubber tree left on the corner next to a utility box. So of course that came home with me. We now have three rubber trees.

I was sorry to read about the death of poet Nikki Giovanni. I always admired her literary voice and her politics. I went with some friends to see her speak in the early 1990s -- I believe it was this event, actually -- and she was quite fiery and irreverent, as I recall, though I can't remember specifics. She's one of those people who seems frozen in my memory as a young woman, so to read that she was 81 was surprising. Where does the time go?

(Photos: Houses on my walk home from the hospital last night.)

In Which I Am Grumpy

Well, yesterday was a whole lot of fun. Here's how I spent my time:

6-7 a.m.: Blogging
7-8 a.m.: Walk dog, get ready for work, breakfast
8:30a.m. - 12 p.m.: Work work work work
12:00-12:20 p.m.: Lunch
12:20 - 4:30 p.m.: Work work work work
5 - 6 p.m.: Visit Dave in hospital
6:30 p.m.: Feed dog, feed myself
7 - 8 p.m.: Read news, e-mail, etc.
8-9 p.m.: Zoom call with financial adviser
9:30 p.m.: Bed

If that sounds to you like a day with not very much joy in it, you'd be right. That door above was a bright spot.

Work was especially crazy. Apparently it's not enough for the high school English teachers to simply bring their students down to the library to choose books for the holidays. We need to pre-select about a hundred books and lay them all out on tables and write little summaries so the kids don't have to be troubled to read the book jackets themselves. I understand pulling books when they have to fit a certain profile -- all written in the first person, for example -- but some of the teachers don't seem to care what the students check out, and all this presentation just makes a million times more work for us.

I don't know why high schoolers can't be expected to find their own books. Why can't they simply use the catalog, read the book jackets and choose what interests them? That's what I used to do when I went to the library. Why all the spoon-feeding and hand-holding?

And there's more of it today -- as well as helping the middle school librarian get some projects together, and doing all the other stuff that normally falls within my purview. Literally not a spare moment.

When I went to visit Dave in the evening, I found that someone has smashed one of the elevator displays at the hospital. The resulting pattern looks like a gigantic tree, or maybe a mushroom cloud. This is normally a screen that allows us to select the floor we need, and then directs us to the appropriate elevator. This one isn't doing any directing.

Dave seemed subdued, but more or less OK. I think he's getting pretty bored. They've taken his oxycodone away and he's now on a different pain med that the nurses administer. He's still not on solid food, which I don't understand -- they say his bowel is fine, but they want to "rest" it. Doesn't he need nutrition? He says he's not hungry, and the food is terrible anyway, so maybe it's just as well -- but still.

On the way out of the hospital I bought my own dinner at the sandwich shop -- a turkey (or chicken?), cranberry and stuffing sandwich and some mango chunks. I brought it home, where Olga successfully begged for a few chunks of sandwich meat.

Afterwards, she took full advantage of the increased space on Dave's side of the bed.

Quiet Nights

I wish I could get a clear view of this tile mosaic in the lobby of the hospital where Dave is a patient. It seems to depict Hampstead Heath, which is nearby, or maybe just English countryside in general. (I don't think I've ever seen sailboats on the Heath.) But in any event, a clear view has never been possible in the ten years we've been coming to this hospital, because this charity desk is in the way -- along with myriad signs, occasional bits of furniture and other stuff.

Dave seems to be recovering well from his surgeries. I couldn't get away from work to visit him yesterday until about 4:30 p.m., but that turned out OK -- he had the day to do all he needs to do, including getting up and moving around per doctor's orders, and I got in a full workday. (And it was very full!) Maybe that will be our pattern. He's still a bit spacey from the drugs, so he doesn't seem too bored.

In fact, he's been immersed in the dramas of the people in the surrounding beds. The guy across from him is very ill -- a young guy, 30ish, with cancer. Yesterday someone visited him to talk about end-of-life issues. Sobering. And there was some story about the guy in the bed next to Dave, but he couldn't tell it to me because the patient's family was visiting at the same time I was -- and you can hear everything in those wards. There is no privacy.

Some of you may remember we have a planned trip to Whitstable beginning on the 20th. Our hope is that Dave will be able to go and recover there. This may be overly optimistic but he seems to think he can do it as long as I manage the bags and the dog. (We'll pack light.) Whitstable isn't far by train and if need be we can always get back to London fairly easily, so I think we're going ahead. Of course this assumes he continues to heal without complication. Time will tell.

And here's Olga, basking in the purplish glow of the Christmas lights. I can't imagine what's going through her head, if anything. Does she think about the fact that a member of the pack is missing?

Last night I sat on the couch and listened to my iTunes through that Bose speaker I had repaired several months ago. I never get to play my music at home, because Dave is not a fan of pop/rock and I don't want to inflict it on him. It was good to make use of that speaker and reconnect with some old favorites. (The Beach Boys' "Pet Sounds" really is one of the best albums ever -- "Sloop John B" is its weak point, in my opinion.)

Usually we watch TV in the evenings but in Dave's absence I haven't turned it on much. As an adult I've never been a very dedicated TV watcher -- in fact I didn't even own one when I lived in New York. It's our evening routine now because it's one of the things we do together, but by myself I'm usually happy to read, and I find myself reverting to that habit.

Setback

Our salmon-colored Thanksgiving cactus has finally put out a successful flower. This is the first one of the year, and probably the last, from the looks of things. It had a healthy bud earlier in the season but somehow it got eaten -- which is concerning since the plant is indoors! I later found a snail in one of our gardening shoes by the back door -- God knows how it got inside -- so I'm guessing that was the culprit. Anyway, at least we got one flower.

The white-flowering cacti don't have any buds this year, but the plants still look healthy, at least.

Speaking of health, we've had a setback here. Dave was experiencing some swelling and redness at the site of his surgery, and the doctor was concerned that the hernia had re-emerged. So right after I arrived at the hospital yesterday, we all went down to get a CT scan, and found that, indeed, that's what happened. The mesh repair had torn on the upper edge and Dave's intestines were once again coming through his abdominal wall.

He didn't feel any of this, by the way -- but then, he's on oxycodone, so he probably can't feel much.

He went back to surgery yesterday evening. They reopened the incision, and the doctor took out the old mesh -- which he described as "hanging by a thread" -- and put a new piece of mesh overtop the old repair. He expects this one to hold, at least in the short term, but he said there's a chance the hernia will reappear in coming years. Apparently the tissues of Dave's abdominal wall are very weak, which the doctor said relates to the drugs he's taking for Crohn's.

All of this means Dave's hospital stay is likely to be extended by a few more days, so I'm guessing he won't be home before Thursday at the earliest. We've been texting and I hope to get in to see him after lunch today.

As we went down to the imaging department we passed these paintings in an elevator lobby. They show some of the old Victorian gas works that are still visible in parts of London, and that I've photographed several times. The paintings are called "Endangered Species" by Marilyn Southey.

The hospital has lots of artworks hanging in all its hallways, which brightens the place up. (Oh, and Elevator B has been thoroughly cleaned, you'll be glad to know!)

After Dave's drama, I feel small and ridiculous complaining about my own medical test, which I did indeed complete yesterday morning. I packed up my tubes of exhaled breath and thought I'd mail them on the way to the hospital, but the mail slot in the priority mailbox was too small to accommodate the package. Argh! I wound up carrying my air (ridiculous, right?) all the way to the hospital and then walking home with it. Along the way, I passed another mailbox with a bigger slot, so in went the package. I'm relieved to be done with it now, and eating normally.

I'm planning to go to work this morning but I may have a shorter workday than usual so I can get to the hospital. We shall see.

The White Diet

I took this shot of the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square when I went to the panto on Friday night. I didn't stop by the bizarre nativity scene, but I think I can see it in the clear box-like case to the right of the tree. There's also a Christmas market on the terrace near the National Gallery -- you can see the lights and awnings. Unfortunately I had no time to spare so I couldn't look at any of this very closely.

I couldn't go see Dave yesterday until 2 p.m., when visiting hours began, but he and I texted in the morning. I spent my time cleaning the house and doing laundry. I didn't venture outside, where the winds were gusting like crazy amid intermittent rain courtesy of Storm Darragh, which is expected to continue today. Darragh has been knocking down trees all over the country, but fortunately in our garden, the damage is (so far) limited to a large chunk broken off the buddleia by the back door. I went out and pruned it back by about half to reduce further wind damage.

Finally I walked to the hospital to see Dave in the early afternoon. The blood is still on the floor of Elevator B -- but it looks fainter, like someone may have languidly run a mop over it. Dave is doing fine -- a bit spacey but he can carry on a pretty normal conversation. I sat with him for a little more than an hour before walking home again.

This is a sculpture outside the hospital called "Pisces Major" by Jesse Watkins. I've seen it many times but I never noticed until yesterday that it moves. It would turn slowly on its pedestal, then reverse and turn back again, and sometimes it sat still. None of this seemed to be timed, and I wondered if it was due to the wind. Or has it always moved and I just never noticed?

My day was complicated by the fact that I had to eat a bland "white" diet for the last of a couple of tests ordered in November by my gastroenterologist. I've delayed taking this one because a) it requires some complex and time-consuming preparation, and b) I think it's bullshit.

Basically, I'm supposed to blow air into some tubes over a period of two hours, and mail them off to a lab where the gases will be tested for the presence of methane and some other stuff. This is supposed to tell me whether I have "bacterial overgrowth" in my small intestine. It's similar to that test for H. pylori that I did a couple of years ago. I'm not sure whether I believe in intestinal "bacterial overgrowth" as a condition, and I once again find the idea of mailing my exhalations completely ridiculous, but I'm going along with it.

So, yeah, food yesterday was no fun. White rice and two eggs for lunch, white bread and chicken for dinner. No milk, no fruit, no vegetables, no fiber. No life, no fun, no taste.

I'm looking forward to 9:15 a.m., when I can have my normal bowl of cereal once again.

Blood in the Elevator

Dave's hernia surgery was yesterday and he is fine. But it was a long, long day -- for me and especially for Dave.

We went to the hospital in the pre-dawn darkness, leaving home in an Uber about 7 a.m. The hospital isn't far so we were there within 10 minutes or so. This time, Dave is on the kite floor, as opposed to the fish floor, the beach floor or the butterfly floor.

We got into Elevator B and noticed a splatter of dried blood on the ground. Dave said, "That's fantastic!" I said, "This place gets a little more Soviet every time we come here." When we got off the elevator Dave mentioned the blood to a passing hospital staff member, who smiled with a bewildered why-are-you-bothering-me-about-this expression.

He was shown to a bed on a ward and the doctor came in and explained that although we'd been told to come at 7:30 a.m., his surgery wouldn't be until early afternoon (!). Dave absorbed this news with equanimity despite the fact that he wouldn't be able to eat beforehand. And then we waited, hearing various patients come and go in the curtained beds around us -- severed tendons, a suspicious growth on a kidney, a man with uncontrolled diabetes who was sent home to take his medication and come back another day. We saw none of these people -- we only heard them, each person reduced to their individual malady.

I had honestly expected Dave to go right into surgery and although I brought a book, I didn't think I'd have a chance to read it. Instead, I finished the whole thing while keeping him company, and then read the news on my phone. I got lunch and finally left around 2 p.m., because we were both worried about the dog at home by herself. (We'd cancelled her walker because she seemed to be having joint pain the night before.)

When I went down in Elevator B, the blood was still on the floor.

The doctor had promised to call me after the surgery, and I had that holiday panto to attend with my co-workers. So I got ready and went to that, thinking the doctor might call while I was on the tube or in the middle of the play. (And you don't want to get a phone call in the middle of a panto, especially an irreverent gay panto like this one, because they're likely to heckle you from the stage.)

I felt like the most irresponsible spouse in the world, going to a panto when my husband was laid up in a hospital in God knows what condition. But Dave knew I'd bought this ticket long ago and he said I should go, so I did.

As luck would have it, the doctor called during intermission (immediately after I'd attempted to phone the ward where we'd spent the morning) and said Dave was fine. I even spoke to groggy Dave who said he was in pain but otherwise OK. So I could enjoy the second half of the panto without anxiety.

I got home at midnight and fell into bed and neglected to e-mail Dave's poor parents until this morning, even though I'd promised to keep them up to date. Oops!

I'll be back to the hospital today, curious to see if anyone's cleaned up that blood in Elevator B.

We're Good to Go

I am really scraping the bottom of the barrel today photo-wise. Not that this photo is bad -- it's just old. It took it Nov. 17. I haven't looked at these hellebores lately to see if they've fully bloomed, but I imagine they have. Maybe I'll do an update tomorrow.

Dave's surgery is moving ahead today, thank goodness. He didn't hear anything from the hospital until 3:30 yesterday afternoon, so he was biting his fingernails (figuratively speaking) all morning. Talk about leaving the plans to the last minute! Anyway, we've got to be at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. and I'm not sure what happens after that. I may come back home or I may go to work. It's only a partial workday anyway -- the library is closing early for the school holiday party (which I will probably skip given this surgery situation).

I have a theater outing tonight, by unfortunate coincidence -- something that was planned long ago before we knew about the surgery. I have a ticket to a holiday "panto" with some colleagues from work. I probably will go to that, since I spent £50 on a seat, even if it's not ideal timing.

Can you stand another fox video? This one has some pretty good shots -- including me wrapped in a blanket, looking like Michael Stipe in a housedress as I try to call the dog inside. (She was hot on the scent trail of the foxes!)

Pins and Needles

This is the new block of flats on West End Lane, where the old council office building used to be. They've really done it up for the holidays! As much as I complained about decorating in my last post, I must say it's fun to see other people's decorations. I just don't want to deal with them myself!

I have been slammed at work this week. I don't know why it's been so busy, but I am literally running all day. We seem to have a lot of classes coming in as we near Winter Break. I guess the teachers want the kids to have a reading project over the holidays.

And speaking of decorating and the library, here's how our Lower School handled the Christmas tree question:

I think that's pretty clever! And no expense involved!

Dave's hernia surgery is scheduled for tomorrow so he's taking today off to prepare. Unfortunately last night he got a call from the hospital saying that because of his Anti-TNF Lupus-like Syndrome, a side effect of his Crohn's medication, his surgery may be delayed. Dave flipped out at this news, because he's already arranged for substitutes for his classes and made lesson plans and announced to the kids that he'll be out -- he said in no uncertain terms that he wanted to go ahead with the surgery. The syndrome only flares periodically and in fact he was out with a co-worker when the call came. He told the hospital, "I'm fine! I'm in a pub!"

Now he's on pins and needles waiting to hear today what might happen, once the surgeon is consulted.

The NHS is so strange. For the longest time they wouldn't confirm his surgery date, so it was hard for him to make plans. They finally confirmed it just last week and now that plans are in place, they're talking about torpedoing them. It's like they never deal with people who have jobs and schedules to maintain -- they seem to think Dave has all the free time in the world.

My method of dealing with situations like this is, what's the worst-case scenario? The surgery gets delayed, in which case he cancels the subs and goes back to teaching his classes. It's not world-ending. But he really wants this procedure done, as the hernias are getting more uncomfortable and more visible. Fingers crossed he gets good news today.

Keep It Simple

Time for an update on the graffiti-covered Chinese restaurant. After I last blogged it, graffiti continued to accumulate and it was looking pretty scroungy. But I walked by the other day and saw that it has been stripped of all identity, with the signs and even the pink stone facing removed, and the window covered with sheet metal. A few tags remain here and there. I wonder if it's about to gain new life as a different business?

Remember how I said we weren't going to have a Christmas tree in the library this year? We'd all discussed it with the maintenance department and that was the decision. None of us want one -- expensive, messy and wasteful was the consensus.

Well, yesterday, one of the school's maintenance supervisors took it upon themselves to order one -- especially strange considering there are only about ten days of school left. Someone from that department came to let me know, and we leaped into action to belay the order.

I don't know how or why the tree idea got revived, but we compromised by agreeing to put up a small artificial tree that we had in a storage closet, so that has been installed atop one of the bookcases. Hopefully that will satisfy any perceived need for a tree. It is admittedly more modest than usual, but I always wind up having to decorate the big trees and keep them watered, and picking up the ornaments that inevitably get knocked off by carelessly wielded book bags, and the maintenance people have to clean up around them and take them down -- and it's such a hassle.

I am a Christmas minimalist -- as you can tell from our flat, with its single strand of colored lights on a houseplant! I even objected when the librarian came up with an idea to make little tags with the names of books on them to use as ornaments (something we did years ago). We already have boxes of ready-to-use ornaments, so I put some of those on the tree and hopefully that will be the end of it. We have Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa book displays, and some other seasonal decorations like snowflakes and little winter trees. Enough already!

Hunter

I found dewy frost on this car window yesterday morning while walking the dog, but it really wasn't very cold. Certainly not freezing. The avocado is still holding its own, as are the other tender plants. Tomorrow night it's supposed to get down to almost freezing, about 34º F, but I'm going to let everything take its chances.

The dog had us up at 4 a.m. this morning, who knows why. She suddenly insisted on going out, and when she did, she just ran around the yard. She seems mostly deaf these days so if she heard foxes I'd be amazed. Maybe she just thinks she heard them.

How do we feel about Hunter Biden? The pardon doesn't bother me at all, to be honest. Hunter has been a right-wing scapegoat for years despite holding no public office, and I'm glad to see him protected from further persecution. There are complaints that Biden somehow violated the public trust by pardoning a relative (although Clinton pardoned his brother, and Trump pardoned his son-in-law's father) and that the pardon is wildly broad, covering not only the paltry charges Hunter already faces but pretty much anything the feds could dream up. Obviously Biden had to make it broad, because otherwise Trump's minions would gin up more offenses.

People act like this is a dramatic strike against good government. I don't see how it's worse than many previous pardons, like Trump's pardons of Michael Flynn, Steve Bannon and Roger Stone. In fact those are arguably much worse, because those people had a direct hand in government. (Stone from an advisory perspective, admittedly.)

I'm sick of the right's fixation on Hunter Biden and his stupid laptop. The guy was an addict with a messy life and yes, he benefitted from the Biden name, but that's hardly unusual for the child of a politician. (What's that line from Creedence Clearwater Revival? "I ain't no senator's son, no, no...") I say we leave him alone. His life is hard enough. I wouldn't want to be Hunter Biden for anything in this world.

Here's Olga scratching around on the artificial grass in front of the swank furniture store around the corner. Some of that furniture is so high-style that it barely seems functional. We could use some new furniture -- we're still sitting on the living room set that we bought from the previous occupants of this flat back in 2014 -- but when the time comes, we probably won't be getting it here.

Two Foxes

I spent yesterday catching up on stuff around the house. It was rainy and there wasn't much opportunity to go outside, so I dealt with things like submitting medical invoices for reimbursement from our insurance (fun!) and paying my UK tax preparer (fun!).

I also did some reading. I started a murder thriller called "Black Thorn" by Sarah Hilary that I picked up in a bookstore on a whim. It's pretty good so far -- I'm about 100 pages in. And I'm almost caught up on all my New Yorkers. I think I'm two issues behind.

One of the New Yorker articles I read was about Tucker Carlson and his "road show." Apparently Tucker's idea of the pinnacle of American greatness and decency was the year 1985, and he says this over and over again -- " I liked America in 1985." I find that perplexing. I don't remember 1985 being a particularly great time, with AIDS ravaging the gay community (granted, Tucker may not have minded) and the military tangled up in foreign conflicts in Lebanon and Nicaragua. It's an odd year to choose. But then, it was Reagan's Morning in America, which I suppose appeals to conservative sensibilities. It was a relatively stable time, I'll give it that, even if to me and many of my college-age friends it felt stifling.

Funny how we mythologize the past. I suspect Tucker thinks 1985 was better than it really was, even for him. Nostalgia is powerful and deceptive.

I checked the garden cam to see what went on in our garden during our absence in Bray. Turns out, not much -- but we did get an answer to a lingering question regarding the neighborhood foxes. Some of you wondered whether the fox I've been catching on video is one animal or more than one, and I've been curious about the same thing. Well, the short video above isn't very good, partly because I had the camera positioned badly, but it definitely shows two foxes -- so there are at least a pair of them. One runs by at the very beginning of the clip, near the shed, and another one follows a few moments later.

(Added clarification on the foxes for those of you missing one: The first fox runs through from :00 to :01, in the far back by the shed. The second runs through from :07 to :10 and is much more visible.)

(Top photo: A fallen maple leaf on one of next year's teasels.)

Home Again

We made our way back from Bray yesterday morning on the train. By the time I'd walked the dog, had breakfast and packed everything up, it was somehow 11 a.m. -- checkout time. So there wasn't much opportunity to do anything else but get to the train station.

Once again we had a terrible time finding an Uber to carry us and the dog. We were rejected by five drivers, one of whom told Dave we had to order an "Uber Pet." If you can figure out what this is you're a step ahead of me. There's nothing on the app that specifies pets (we always put in notes that we have a dog) and there is no such separate app as "Uber Pet," at least not that I can find.

We called the people who booked us the cottage and they got us a ride with a local car service. All's well that ends well.

The train from Maidenhead was surprisingly crowded and Olga got lots of pats, even when she mysteriously began licking some poor man's pristine white trainers. I apologized but he didn't seem to mind. He must clean those shoes with something that appealed to her.

Since then she's been pretty much sound asleep in her familiar surroundings, as you can see above. (Notice that she has a bed on the floor -- but she always opts for the couch.)

And I've done laundry and we had take-away Chinese for dinner, so we're pretty much back in our groove. I know I'm behind on answering comments but I hope to get to that today!

Duck Your Nut

I got up yesterday feeling strangely hungry, considering the elaborate meal we'd had the night before. I guess with tasting menus, though, you don't necessarily get a significant quantity of food. Everything is artfully prepared down to the tiniest morsel, but some of the courses are only a tiny morsel. In other words, calorically, I was at a deficit.

Dave took care of that by cooking up an English breakfast using the supplies that came with our cottage.

We had beans, eggs, bacon, sliced tomatoes and buttered toast with jam. Olga watched from the couch, eagerly awaiting her own piece of morning bacon.

See how low that doorway is? "Duck your nut" indeed! (In the photo it looks like "youre," which would obviously be grammatically incorrect, but that last e is actually just a flourish on the lettering -- not an e at all.)

After breakfast and some reading, Olga and I set out on a walk. We headed through town (top photo) to Braywick Park, where we went almost exactly three years ago.

To get there, we walked a long, raised sidewalk called The Causeway, through pastures and over a bridge across The Cut, a canal. Olga watched the squirrels intently, chasing them in her imagination.

The bridge was made by Tubewrights Ltd. of Newport, Monmouthshire (Wales). I've found an identical bridge in London. I guess pedestrian bridges were a Tubewrights specialty.

I wasn't sure how far Olga would want (or be able) to go, but we got to the park and walked part of its interior loop. Eventually I turned around and took her home again and she did not protest. It was a healthy walk for the old girl.

I, however, felt like I still needed some exercise. Walking Olga these days is just a slow amble. So after dropping her back at the cottage I set out myself for a longer, brisker walk around the park and some nearby neighborhoods. I came across a wedding at St. Michael's Church, and although I didn't linger it was fun to see the bride and groom emerge from the church, to be greeted by all the well-dressed guests.

Then I settled in with some New Yorkers and read until dinner, when Dave and I went to the Hind's Head, the pub that is attached to our cottage. It's also run by Heston Blumenthal, the chef at The Fat Duck, but its style is more casual and traditionally pub-like. A gastropub, I guess. I had fish pie and took it easy on the alcohol.

One downside of this cottage, like Clamato Cottage a few years ago, is the staircase. This one isn't as steep as Clamato's, but Olga is older and frailer, and reluctant to go up and down stairs. (And I'm reluctant to allow her to try.) So I carry her up to bed and then down again in the morning.

Well, last night she got kind of agitated around 1 a.m., squirming around and panting. At first we covered her with her blanket, thinking she was just cold, but that didn't work -- so at 3:30 a.m. I carried her downstairs to let her out. That didn't appear to be the problem either.

I decided I wasn't going to lug this 40-pound dog up and down the stairs all night, so she and I squeezed onto the two-seater couch, which required me to curl up like a cannonball. She was much calmer downstairs and, miraculously, we were both able to sleep.

Fortunately our cabin in Whitstable is only one story, so we won't have this staircase issue during Christmas!