Well.

I reckon I've had more rest in the last week than for months.  Thanks to a mixture of Things Settling Down, both of us needing to sleep a lot on Wednesday (M definitely sick, me maybe - I felt fine the next day), and a lack of Important Appointments To Be Attended To.

M was put back on the sick list on Tuesday after a visit to our GP.  Who nonchalantly took M's temp and it was 38C.  What??  Quick, where are the antibiotics?

We had an adventure today - we took the bus to one of the local hospitals to get M an xray.  [I was amused by the booking process - it's a 1300 number and very streamlined.  They *do* ask if you have any special needs, so I was able to say 'well yes, we need the right time, the right place and the right staff to help us' and after a small hesitation the person on the line sorted it all out purrfectly for me. Us, that is.]  Off we went, arriving in good time to test the cafe before his appointment (no, I didn't plan that.  It was A Happy Accident).  I was greatly troubled by the cake display - pink donuts AND pink lamingtons with real cream filling!  I've been regretting that sudden flash of spirit which made me say NO, ever since.  PINK LAMINGTONS!!

We're expecting the xray to show that M is doing fine and the pills are working.  We adventured back to the flat easily, and I was pleased that nothing alarming happened this time.  Recent bus trips have exposed some of the things which can be a problem - mostly, other people, who are impatient, or get in the way, or try to be helpful and make M flustered and me cross.  For example, if you see someone in a power chair manoeuvring back and forth in a small space, DON'T step into it to try to push him.  You won't be able to push the 200kg+ of him plus chair, you're likely to get your foot HEAVILY run over, and you'll get in his way, make him feel deaf and stupid, and require me to be sharp and dismissive.  You wouldn't want that, would you??  People in wheelies who are using buses are in fact extremely competent, because they've learned a lot of skills before they try catching buses.  So, a bit of respect, please.  Wait until we ASK for help.

Ahem.  Off soapbox.. another hazard is the bus driver taking off before M's in position.  YOU try moving a power chair on a moving surface!  High risk activity for his wife (who gets easily alarmed when she perceives a husband rolling uncontrolled across a crowded bus aisle..). We also get into tangles when bags get caught on chair backs, other people dare to come on the bus with *their* mobility aids, and worst of all was the trip we took when there was already someone in a (manual) chair.  There wasn't really enough room and M had to travel 'backwards' which is not disastrous but got him disoriented for a bit.

However no bus driver has ever asked me for a fare, and twice when I've offered to pay I've been waved away.  M travels free.  Sometimes another passenger will leap up and unfold the ramp for the driver - very generous.  I really appreciate how easy this is for us - I wouldn't care to try it in peak hour with a crush of passengers, but during the day we're managing very well, and M has had the confidence to make a couple of short trips on his own.

... but I was speaking of rest. Well, what can I say?  Now that I look carefully at my emails, messages, mail and unfinished tasks, I see that all this resting must stop, preferably before it started.  Small fires keep breaking out no matter how much I clutch my gin and tonic and point the hose.  There are the usual legal/insurance complexities, the much-yearned-for start of the house mods (the loan people STILL need more bits of paper), our team of supporting allied health care workers have many trenchant questions for us about equipment and services, and I am neglecting my physio again.

We have declared tomorrow to be a Paperwork Day, and M is threatening to help sort (some of) my BAGS of paperwork.  I'm not so sure I want him to know either just how much there is, or see my (dis)order of priorities.  Nice big bits of papers with green texta titles works for me.  Many would suggest a filing cabinet but I want to approach this slowly from a position of firm ignore.  I tend towards the belief that if They want it badly enough, They'll write/ask/send again.  If *I* need it badly enough, I'll either find it or get a copy or decide it doesn't really matter (don't tell dad I said that).

So..

we're fine.  No explosions this week.  None planned although if you ask me about the insurance company I can't promise.

We might see a breaking of the sod next week, if all this talk of loans turns into dollars that can be flung at the builder.

My cattie enjoyed a sprint around the garden at dusk (the morning feeder forgot to let her out.  As she was noticeably sleepy when I turned up in the late afternoon, I don't think she suffered too much).  I quite enjoyed it too, seeing my garden turning all the warm autumn colours. Only a few cape daisies and the teeniest sprig of blue salvia to counter all that fiery display.

Roll on weekend (there's a concept for someone clever - the roll-on weekend.  Think of the applications!).

I'm wearing Jo Malone 'Lime, Basil and Mandarin' cologne this week.  I smell a bit like the makings of an excellent Thai dinner.

Living in interesting times...

We've both been terribly tired lately. Maybe a touch of a virus? Whom nose. But M developed a koff, which turned into pneumonia and he has been hospital overnight, having intravenous antibiotic to quell the bacteria of deth. He's home now, still koffing but feeling better. I, otoh, am still buggered. It seems to be terminal.

This last week has been very exciting as the building of our new pathways around the house has started. We already have a completed bit, a lovely wide arc running from footpath to roadside. It's wide enough at the road end for a car to pull up, and both front and back passengers can step out onto paving (instead of cracked old concrete, mud and weeds which was our previous look). Now the pathways from the side gate and around into the back yard are taking place. At the bottom of the steps down from the deck, Alex has begun laying our stash of old Canberra Red bricks (from when the wall fell down a few years ago), and they look really good. And it's recycling in action!

It's also impressive that each night since this paving was put in place, we've had heavy rain, and not a paver or a crumb of concrete has shifted. Oh, I can't wait for it to be finished!

I should be planting my veggies but today, Monday, I am having a day of utter sloth and rest and heat-packing. I am aching all over for reasons I don't understand, so an actual day off my strange, unfixed retirement life seemed in order. I'm up to my third murder book, my second lot of 2 hours of heat pack, and Maccy has had a lovely day lying on me or squikking at me or sitting in the window doing profiles. He's been flat out catting and has now flaked out on the purple blanky on the chair in the corner, his favourite spot. He lies there looking gorgeous against the Indian sequinned and embroidered cloth, under the pool of light from the turquoise and cream batik lampshade, watched over by a troop of our teddy bears. Every now and then I get a glimpse of a glint, as he manages to just peel open one eye to see if I'm doing anything interesting, like eating bacon or pouring cream into a little porcelain dish. I never am. He seems ever-hopeful.

Tonight I am sending uber-hopeful thoughts of strength and support and love to my darling dorter, who has a challenging day ahead of her tomorrow. HOPE HOPE HOPE HOPE HOPE LUVLUVLUVLUVLUVLUV I go.

I think I shall finish on a note of Chanel No. 5, as I often do. A dear friend gave me a book called 'PERFUME' last week, which analyses and grades thousands of purrfumes from one star ('awful') to five ('sublime'). I went through the index, which is ordered by stars given, and underlined all the purrfumes I recognise or have. It seems I have eclectic taste! Most of my purrfumes come in at 3 or 4 stars, indicating that (according to the authors) I have some taste. But I have representations in every group. I am extremely puzzled that two of my most favourite, most commented-on-favourably-when-I'm-wearing-it purrfumes only got one star. I guess, like all opinions, they are just that. Natch. I shall go on wearing and enjoying my favourites and collecting compliments. I could perhaps conduct a smellathon of my own, and compile a purrsonal listing. It could be based on random pros and cons, such as 'can smell it through wet concrete and two blocked noses', 'leaves scent on a pillow case for at least 3 days' and 'can't tell I've got it on but other ppl notice'. Heh. My favourite pro would be 'can smell it on Maccy's fur hours after I cuddled him'. I still think Prada rools!

Saturday inertia

I'm reading weekend magazines and listening to the iPod and looking at a flat cat snoring on me feet. There are a million things I "could" do, but .. nup. My dad is ok after a minor op yesterday, it rained propurrly last night so I don't have to water, and later on there will be roast veggies. Counting blessings is important!

Soon I will be rested enough to write 'Adelaide: The Story'. Patience, children.

Today brought to you by Prada, the body lotion. Spicy, intense and warm. Almost like christmas pudding but without the raisiny grit. Gorjuss.

Berlin, Thurs 11th September

Yeah, I know it's the anniversary of THAT September 11... but for me...

A day off.

Sleep; plunger coffee and decent muesli. More sleep. Air-conditioning!! Reading English papers (The Independent, The Guardian, and the (American) Herald Tribune). Lavish showering with all the unguents unpacked and to hand. More lots of Gucci.

Sitting around while M sleeps, after he went out to find and then consult an English-speaking doctor nearby. He’s had his blood test and immediately bought himself a bottle of white wine! Heh. He’s been counting the days since we left the Russian clinic... let’s hope his remaining dodgy liver levels are now ok. Ditto blood pressure and heart health.

Massive efforts by me, whose legs feel as if I walked here, not came by train, to go out a few blocks for dinner. An excellent paella and some Rosé. Tottered back drooling over the YSL/Chanel/Gucci/Bvlgari/other top end designer shops with luscious, impossibly gorgeous shoes... M fainting at the prices! I told him about how one buys a pair for umpteen dollars, then amortises the cost over the next 25 years of wearing them, to make them a REAL bargain buy. He seems strangely unconvinced ... I think I’ll have to demonstrate so he can see how it works. Selfless, I know.

Both of us have huge headaches. I cut my finger practically in half getting the plastic cover off a CD. My feet still hurt. M is trying to be his usual saintly self but is pretty crisp around the edges. We need to do our washing and sort out our dang mobile phones and make phone calls and get his suit dry-cleaned and I need a haircut and some beauty salon rescue activities... it’s all too hard.

Tomorrow, tomorrow ... I think we’ll start with a physio appointment for me; then go to the Bauhaus; and then we’ll see. I’m looking forward to cooking our dinner, if I can remember how. And I’ll get the password for the hotel’s free WiFi so you can all catch up with us and vv.

Posting must happen soon. I must buy presents for my family in Freiburg, having inadvertently sent home the carefully-chosen gifts I found in Riga, in the massive pre-flight posting in Vilnius. [I looked at the few photos I took in Vilnius, and I can hardly remember being there. That was a tricky 36 hours...]

I feel I need ... things. Stuff. Goodies. I’m not sure why, but I read in The Guardian today that a scientific/medical link has been made between healing times and the amount or lack of patting and stroking the patient receives. The article was published with a photo of a baby, but I read it thinking of all the self-patting I experience via the constant unguentification of an impurrfect princess. I’ve always thought of the application of body lotions and such as a simple form of administering a little ‘there, there..’. Now I am proven right! This is not an excuse, it’s a scientific process of self-care and symptom-management. I love it.

Goodnight. It’s gonna be the big pain-pill bomb tonight; the last resort uber-drug for hed of dethness and rampant fatigue and sore leggies. Pardon me if I drool....

Tallinn; Thursday August 28th

Erg. We wake after about 6 hours sleep, both with head aching, bleary baggy eyes, and a firm desire to get back to sleep asap. We’re going to totter off to brekkie, have an actual meal, and then resume slumbers.

In a tiny, tiny concession towards the possibility of maybe an inkle of a zephyr of birthday-ish nuance, I am wearing my red cat socks today. Thanks sis! They’ll get a serial outing - a starring role at breakfast, then a stagger up to the Old City later on when we attempt consciousness again.

Today not really brought to you at all, yet. But M has just returned from a wee forage amongst the natives, and given me a cable to connect to the free interwebs in our room. I’m not putting an exclamation mark in, I don’t have the energy for raised eyebrow/pleased smile/cor lummy yet...

~~~~~~~

Breakfast - back to the land of the buffet breakfast - muesli, fruit, juice... toast! Fibre!!! BACON!!!

M is eating very cautiously, having been told to eat a light, low-fat and low-salt diet for the time being. This is our normal food approach, but when travelling can be very difficult to manage - especially low-salt. We’ll see. He’s been surviving on porridge, soup, black tea water, and the odd bit of white bread, so for him to see such exotica as scrambled egg, tomato, apple juice makes it an exciting brekkie for him, too.

I can’t connect my laptop to the web in the room, cos you need a USB port to plug into this lil Airbook (for the cable), and I posted it back to Australia several countries ago (Bergen I think). M saw someone webbing in the foyer, so maybe there’s WiFi here, or at least a terminal down there we can use. One way or another (someone wrote a song about that in the 80s, I think it was Debbie Harry, the rest of the line is “I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha” and indeed I will, but not the way she meant!)... aha! I’m up to exclamation marks. Better get me some more pillow time before I get carried away and actually wake up...

~~~~~~~~

Aahhhh... sleep. Good stuff. Right up there with coffee, cats, and purrfume... I feel so much better I decide I should stay in bed and finish my book - and put the heatpad on so I can cook my stiff, sore back. Isn’t it a coincidence that today it’s sore? Surely nothing to do with the change of routine from lots of walking, to sitting in a bus thumping along a Russian road for several hours, not enough knee or shoulder room, and a certain amount of unavoidable suitcase-lifting? Nooooooo....

I’ve got Tom Waites on again, I’ve nicked M’s pillows, and my book is having a happy but plausible ending. Purrfume, a decent dinner and !!!! an opera tomorrow night, are in my near future. Yes, birthday celebration part 1 is under construction - M found info about an opera called ?, written by an Estonian composer who used to be a rock star. How can I possibly resist? [Seeing as Arvo let me down, I’m just doing the next best thing.. and we have Arvo on the dear little iPod, so I’ve had some ‘Fratres’ to wake me up earlier.] I had a bit of trouble getting brekkie, cos the buffet was in a darkish corner of the breakfast room, and I was NOT taking off my sunnies for anyone. A shaft of sunlight on the luggage room under my eyes might have frightened the natives. It’s a mercy thing..