Looking back 1

 

Part of the 500 metre covid memorial wall

11th March 2020 was the day the pandemic started to get serious for me.  There had been stay at home messages for several days and we knew a lockdown was on the cards.  I also felt that my pre-existing conditions made me rather vulnerable.  11th March was the day I decided I had to withdraw.

The next few days were a flurry of getting grocery deliveries, making sure I had suitable food and medication in case I caught the virus, sorting a support network and working out how I would spend my time.  

I started a journal: "Personal thoughts during a pandemic" and one of the first things I wrote was, "I want to use this as gift time: time to be used as a bonus in a weird sort of way."

And for the next nearly year-and-a-half I stayed at home.  Actually, for the most part I was happy to be at home.  The summer of 2020 was pretty good and I could sit in my garden.  I had plenty of craft supplies and I made things.  I sorted through a lot of possessions.  Although at the beginning of lockdowns I gained several pounds, I realised that this was a great opportunity to take control of my eating and lose weight.  

Happy Birthday, Jack!

 I visited you on Saturday and you seem set for a very good birthday which will last for several days.  I won't tell everyone how old you are but I thought this photograph from four years ago would be OK for today.  You mentioned a pretty good supply of birthday cakes which have been promised so I don't think you'll starve.

It's quite a long time since you first told me that my garden looked a mess and responded to my challenge to do something about it.  I don't regret the challenge - do you regret picking up that particular gauntlet? (or gardening glove?)

We've had very different life paths and I think we've each learnt quite a lot from the other but I'm sure you'll understand when I say I'd rather not learn your culinary techniques.  Maybe you haven't wanted to learn some of my gardening ideas either.  Tough!

I hope you enjoy the present I left for you when I came.  And I'm sure you'll have a lovely week.

Love, The Vicar. XX

February and March

The number of posts I managed in February wasn't exactly stellar.  Just the one.

For me January and February are usually difficult months and 2025 ran true to form.  Early in the month I woke one morning with incredible pain in my leg, worse than when I was waiting for the knee replacement.  Jim and Sheena, one of my cousins, managed to borrow a wheelchair so I could get to the car, and between them they took me to the doctor.  Strong pain killer and physiotherapy.  I felt more than a little light headed while taking pain relief but eventually everything settled down.

That had eased when I had a "digestive episode".  You don't want/need to know any more.  Except that things were a little miserable for several days until that settled.  

So, my post on being OK (which I wrote between these two incidents) was very necessary and hearing that lots of other people are also surviving by being OK was very comforting.  Thank you to everyone who commented.

I have high hopes for March!  I'm starting the month with eight days dog sitting which is going well.  When I get home I am looking forward to pottering around my garden and making a few plans.  Jack and one of his friends are coming for tea one day so I have to be on my very best behaviour and I have high hopes that his friend will make sure Jack is on his best behaviour too.  

The weather here is gloriously sunny at the moment so I may take advantage of that with a couple of days out.

And with good luck and a following wind I may get a few more blog posts written.

I'm OK

 I find myself saying "I'm OK" to myself quite a lot this month.

There's nothing exciting happening, but I'm OK.

The world seems to be becoming more frightening, but I'm OK.

I know there are lots of things I should be doing, but I'm quite happy relaxing and thinking and I'm OK.

Spring is still a few weeks away, but I'm OK

I'm not shrugging off all cares but I have done what I can and I'm OK.

Life isn't perfect, my own life definitely isn't perfect, but I'm OK.

I hope you, too are OK.

Mnemonic

 

Thirty days hath September,

April, June and November.

Unless a leap year is its fate,

February hath twenty-eight.

All the rest hath three days more,

excepting January,

which hath six thousand,

one hundred and eighty-four.

I think Brian Bilston has it absolutely right!

Pruinesence

 

Many words from the winter dictionary won't become part of my vocabulary but I think I could make an exception for pruinesence.  It's the beautiful white covering of frost seen on crisp winter days.  A much nicer term than hoar frost, I think you will agree.  It's easy to find lovely cosy words for the winter but beautiful outdoor ones are to be treasured.  

These days I admire the trees at a distance.  All too often the weather is too snarry for me.  Snarry?  Piercingly, bitingly cold.  It's much colder riding on a trundle truck than walking!  I will watch any snow blossoms from a distance.  And that's not just me being poetic - snowflakes were called snow blossoms (at least in written English) before they were called snowflakes.   

Aglidder ground

 

 

I've been looking through The Winter Dictionary again!  I haven't been outside even as far as the wheely bins because the ground is totally aglidder.  Is it slippery where you are too?   

Last night I think it may have blunked as the snow covering is very light.  Heavy snow isn't happening around here, thank goodness! Just a light covering or flindriken.   (Maybe you would call such a light snowfall a greymin, which sounds a very descriptive word.)  I haven't been around to see even a flother (single snowflake) falling as such snow as there is fell overnight. Instead everything is chibbly.  Chibbly?  That's right, crisp and crackly with frost.  I suspect it would creange if I stepped on it but I won't be stepping anywhere outside today so I won't hear the crackling of ice or frozen ground as it breaks under pressure.  

I think there was probably a glottening (partial thaw) yesterday as the sunshine was so lovely yesterday afternoon.   However, there just hasn't been enough for the children to make a hogamadog.

But maybe I am a flindriken myself for delighting in these words for I am a little light headed.  How about you?

 

In praise of Dave

 

Smart meters have been a bit of a saga for me.  I'm quite motivated by "numbers" so I wanted them.  

My first one was fitted about six years ago when I was with Eon.  It wouldn't "talk" to EDF when I changed so it was changed to new ones which would talk to neither my supplier nor my in-home display.  And EDF couldn't fix it and refused to replace it so I had a dumb meter.  Eventually EDF was so bad I complained to the ombudsman and got some compensation but no new meter.

A few months ago I changed to British Gas.  They have been very keen to sort the situation.  The electricity meter was swapped before Christmas but there was a problem with the gas meter.  Today Dave arrived.

What a perfect gent Dave is!  He arrived with overshoes and immediately showed his identification.  He chatted but left me to eat my breakfast in peace.  He noticed that there was a bag of rubbish waiting to go to the bin and took it there for me, realising that I might be worried for my safety in this ice weather. There was a considerable problem in changing the meter but he persevered and it is now up and running.  He not only explained the in home display but he also told me about the app and gave me useful energy saving advice.  A wonderful ambassador for his company.  

I know we all have problems with different suppliers but wouldn't it be wonderful if they all employed Daves?  

Hollie

Hollie, a Border Terrorist, is one of life's little pleasures and she brings other pleasures with her. She's a bit sad at the moment as Hiccup, her older sister, died just before Christmas

Hollie invites me into her home when her regular staff goes away and she finds herself at a loose end.  That happened last week so I went for a couple of nights.  As you see, Hollie likes to get up close and personal.

She's very fond of my heated throw and she snuggles up very close when I'm using it on the sofa.  She's used to sleeping on her usual staff's bed so, unless I want a very disturbed night, she sleeps on mine too.  It's a king size bed and she generously allows me the outer six inches on each side while she luxuriates in the middle.  (I'm under the duvet, she's on top of it.)  I have no idea how she manages to control so much bed-space!

It's no longer practical for me to have my own dog and these little dog sitting breaks are definitely one of life's little pleasures.  

Baby, it's cold outside!

 

Anyone been barflogging lately?  Not you?  No slapping your arms crosswise against your chest and shoulders to keep warm?  Or maybe you are into cuffing or beating your arms against your sides. 

It’s been distinctly chilly in my part of Lincolnshire but we haven’t had the snow other areas have had.  We had a covering which was gone in a few hours.  It’s been bad enough to clumse me (numb me with cold) if I were foolish enough to step outside.  I’m just not frigostable!  (Possibly you can work out that means unaffected by the cold.)

I’d need to degomble when I came in.  Ha, I’ll bet you didn’t know that word for cleaning the snow and mud off your shoes!  The surprising thing about it is that it is a twenty first century word, probably invented by scientists in the Antarctic.

 You may have gathered that I continue to enjoy the winter dictionary. 

Hibernaculum

 

A few days ago my "suggested reading" from Amazon included included "A Winter Dictionary" by Paul Anthony Jones.  I had a quick look and was hooked!  It's full of obscure words often with their origins in English Dialect, and all so descriptive.  (I found "Daft Days", which I wrote about here, in this book.)

I want a "hibernaculum"!  It's somewhere to retreat to during the long winter months.  It was used to describe soldiers' winter quarters, or a place for over-wintering plants, or the lair of a wintering animal.

In it I can "hiemate", which is a less sleepy activity than hibernation.  My home is "howffy": in other words it is cosy and comfortable and snug and I can "moble" or dress in multiple layers of clothing.

Anyone care to join me?

Happy New Year!

The one job I always make sure I have done when I go to bed on New Year's Eve is empty the bins.  

For me it's about drawing a line under the sad or regretful bits of the old year.  This year may or may not be better but I am (mentally) starting with a clean slate.  Tennyson, the great poet from my county, wrote, "Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering ‘It will be happier;’"  I've been pretty happy in 2024.  I hope 2025 will be even happier and I hope it's pretty good for you, too.