Sod the Zimmer frame.

Good Morning to you,


This is an unusually leisurely morning for me.

Over the last two weeks we have had the plasterers in to replaster two bedrooms, and it is not a relaxing process.

Usually I get up hours before Big H, feed the birds, have my breakfast, then sit around in my dressing gown to write for my blog, work on a painting, or just generally fiddle about the place till he gets himself up.

For the past two weeks I have had to leap out of bed, have a bath, get dressed, wake Big H forcibly and persuade him to get out of bed.  This can be quite time consuming and can involve levels of violence not desirable before I have been properly put into gear by my morning  cup of Earl Grey.

Not that Big H is a fan of a bit of S&M.  He is just so bloody sleepy in the mornings that he would rather be beaten than get up.

Once he is up, we open all the blinds, fetch the paper from the Spar, and await the workmen, who always start at an unfeasibly early hour.


You must also manage to have a poo well before they arrive or you find yourself totally constipated for the rest of the day.  Who can enjoy a trip to the loo when, at any moment you may have a workman shouting for you because they need something, be it advice or the location of an exotic creature such as a stop cock.

If this problem gets too bad you eventually find yourself to be literally full of crap.  An accusation which is actually not uncommon in my case.


So, here I am this morning , fashionably attired in my mangy but comfortable old dressing gown, feet up on the coffee table, writing my blog and gazing out of the window at yet another rainstorm.

Yesterday the  weathermen finally ‘fessed up and admitted that all their forecasts for a scorching hot summer were totally wrong and that rain will stop all summer pastimes, as usual for us.

Apparently five million of us believed the unbelievable, and booked summer holidays here, rather than doing the sensible thing and going abroad.

Poor things, they must have all spent the usual two weeks cooped up in a strange place watching a television with rubbish reception, sitting upon fusty smelling furniture and using a dubious bathroom with a rank shower.  All the while marking off the slowly crawling days and lumpy- mattressed nights, bleakly hoping that one of the happy family will catch Leprosy so that they can all bugger off back home again, while still saving face with the neighbours back home.


Now , we are seeing a surge of bookings for foreign destinations with an expectation of some decent sunshine, and the probability of enjoying the process of obtaining a fine tan.

All we have here, is the likelihood of getting a fine covering of  mildew and mould in all our secret, damp places,


Big H and I have recently been talking about making big changes after his retirement next year.

We feel it may be a good idea to move to a warmer part of the country, somewhere people would go to have a holiday by the sea and generally do our best to help to clog up a perfectly good place with loads of us stupid pensioners getting in everyone else’s way and sitting on all of the available public benches so that nobody else can get a look in.

Sort of like the Germans do, but without the sunshine and without the towels.


I find that as people get older they seem to be inclined to play it safe and stick to what they are used to.  They are comfortable with the status quo and they know how to cope with things in that particular locality.

My thought is that life is finite, sometimes far more so than we expect, and we all get that last scary and unknown surprise at the end, so why play it so safe.

Don’t sit in one place getting rusty and stiff and ready to use a zimmer frame, endlessly discussing the state of your innards with the equally deteriorating old neighbours, singing along with the refrains about how everything used to be so much better in the old days.

No, it bloody wasn’t, and sod that for a lark.

We should make some changes.

I mean, we all get to the same departure point at the end of the line, but we do not have to get there on the most boring of all possible train journeys.


Lots more enjoyable conversations ahead for Big H and I on that subject.  After we get the next batch of workmen in next week to fix a leak our plasterer found in the roof when he was doing one of the bedrooms.  At which point he will be returning to finish off a wall.

We know that he will come back too, because he has left all his equipment here.





I rea

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