See...I knew I'd have to cancel that appointment. We went out yesterday to Roscommon town and it was all I could do to get from the bookshop to Frances's...a matter of yards is all...and I had my stick. When we came home I collapsed in a soggy heap and went to bed...or the settee rather 'cos I'm sleeping on that.
So I 'phoned this morning, and amid much coughing and spluttering managed to tell the Consultants secretary that I just couldn't drag myself forty miles to the appointment...you're supposed to be feeling well you see for these out- patient appointments...they don't like it if you turn up on deaths door...don't like it at all.
Of course sod's law decreed that my chest stopped rattling the minute I put the 'phone down and I've not felt too bad for the rest of the day either...not exactly rushing about full of energy you understand...just not too awful...and that's a bonus.
My shed is coming along...putting everything back in it is taking ages because I'm being so strict about what I actually need all the time and what can be stored in the barn...there'll probably come a time when the stuff in the barn can be passed on to a charity shop or simply binned...but I might want something out of one of those bags urgently...
The slimy ones are out in force again...chomping their way through my dear little pansies faces and leaving silvery trails in their wake...so now we have the usual dilemma...roam about in the dark with a bucket and the torch or sprinkle some yummy slug pellets about...can't put dishes of beer out 'cos of the price...very expensive...and anyway if I was to resort to having alcoholic slugs roaming round the garden, they probably attract more of their kind to join in the fun...
I once read a very funny article in a farming magazine about a girl who was struggling to become self-sufficient...she described the slugs she had to tackle as being as big as chipolata sausages...one slithered inside her rubber boot and she squelched it when she put her foot down...
Even my ducks looked at those green ones with something akin to horror...they'd eat the little grey slugs and small snails without a bother, but confronted with enormous edible snails and giant green slugs they'd turn their backs and waddle away hastily in case I tried force feeding them...
Himself planted some sweet pea plants out this afternoon in a big tub...they don't care for being planted in containers but that's tough...they'll have to put up with it. I supervised closely of course...my best hand trowel suddenly reappeared while he was doing the planting...I said nothing.
Many years ago Himself used to help out with fencing and such like for the people who lived near to us...the Galloping Major was a short stout person who was also extremely forgetful...it's drive Himself crazy when the Major simply dropped a hammer or box of nails on the ground and then beetled back to the house...he'd complain bitterly about him not looking after his tools...now here we are thirty years later and Himself is doing precisely as the Galloping Major did...he puts whatever it is he's been using down...then walks away and forgets about it.
He once ate an entire packet of peanuts intended for the bird feeders...not Himself...he hasn't become so dippy yet...was the Major who stuffed the packet into his outdoor jacket pocket...those nuts clearly labelled Not For Human Consumption...he was a bit bow-legged as well and wore old Army gaiters and loved the roses in the beds in front of the house...he circle round and round squishing greenfly in his fingers lost in his own small world. I picked all his roses once you know...sorted through them and chose all the very best ones and came away with a trug stuffed full which I arranged and put in silver bowls on the dining table...VIP's were coming to dinner that evening you see and everything had to be just so...
Everyone told me to run and hide 'cos he'd be furious...but he wasn't in the least. Said the flower arrangements were beautiful and poured me a large dry sherry...
Funny where ones thoughts lead sometimes...