Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Down days uplifted

Since Friday I have been nursing, first, a raging sore throat, then a barking cough and today it has arrived on my chest. I have a nasty suspicion that I picked up the bug on Thursday morning in a room crowded with would-be writers like myself. On top of this I have a gammy left knee which is stopping me exercise, even if I felt well enough. I also missed seeing the new Tram bridge slid into place over the Nottingham Ring Road in Lenton (see Nottingham Daily Photograph by Christopher Frost for really good views dated 29 September 2013).

But on the bright side of things, I have prepared lunch for the first time in days, so I must be feeling a bit better and as I did, I had this view to look at...



... our little back garden. This photograph will almost certainly be given to the estate agent trying to sell our house in a few weeks time. Suddenly, this view, like life itself has become more precious. I can hear the clock ticking. Tick tock, tick tock. 


To the side and out of view are the runner bean tubs, five in all containing four bean plants each and it's been a bumper year — two to three meals a week since mid-July and just about finished. We've even had enough to share with our neighbours on a few occasions. The plants cost me all of £3 in Nottingham Market at the beginning of May, plus a bag of potting compost. Growing runner beans is something I have lived with since I was a child and as proof of this fact I include this photograph of me aged about two from the back garden of 36 Swinderby Road, Wembley, where I grew up.


There, behind me, are my Grandfather's runner beans. 1946. I associate growing runner beans with so many good things.

And finally, I found this little person in our basement a couple of weeks ago. How he got there we can only guess. The best theory we have is that the newt got caught up in the long fur of our very short-legged cat, Markiza, when she was drinking water from the pond in our back garden.


When we made the pond in 1999, Chris, our next door neighbour brought a large container of wild pond life from his parent's then home in New Malden, Surrey (officially, part of Greater London since 1965), which included a few newts. It is good to know they are still with us, as we rarely glimpse one.

I came to the conclusion a good few years ago that you don't fight being unwell. You stop, curl up, sleep and get better by accepting that it may take longer than you would like. In 1977 I was diagnosed with whooping cough after months of coughing and going to work. When I finally succumbed, I was off work for months. Even so, five days into this little bout and I feel it still pulling me down. I got up this morning hoping I would be doing things tomorrow. It's now mid-afternoon and doing this blog has exhausted me. Now my hope is Thursday. I have things to do, I have a writing class to attend and a stay in London to finalise. 

I have also a photograph of a Y5 to take for my next blog, which I hope to post at the weekend. Right now though I'm going to make a cup of tea for Susan and me.









2 comments:

Rosie said...

From my kindle in a wet Wales - hope you feel well again soon. Rx

Robert said...

Thanks Rosie. Feeling a lot better today (Thursday). Hope to go out tomorrow for first time in a week.

Love R xx