I Am A Biped

I haven't been able to walk properly for nearly three years. Today, for the first time I went out without walking sticks and managed to walk properly (I'm having to learn how all over again) without rolling like a drunken sailor or limping or propping myself upon sticks.

It's quite impossible to describe the feeling I had today - part was delight, part sheer exhilaration at being a biped, part pride that I had managed to learn and do as much as I had done and part disbelief at how strange it felt to walk upright again. I am brimming over with happiness.

November Storms

Goodness, it's filthy weather outside. The wind is howling and the rain lashing against the windows. It's so wild that the rain has driven under some of the roof tiles, which only ever happens in really vile weather.

I wouldn't mind this in the slightest on any ordinary day, but Kim is flying home from Oslo tonight and I'm worried. He should get into Heathrow at about 10.30 p.m. and he then has to drive all the way home. It's normally a three hour trip in good weather but the way things are tonight, I'm concerned. He will have been up since some sort of silly hour in the morning, especially as the time in Norway is an hour earlier than the UK and he thinks he'll be lucky to get home by 2 a.m. (and that was without the bad weather).

Meanwhile, the cats are curled up, one on my desk and the other in a squishy beside the desk. Occasionally an ear flicks or a sleepy eye opens and looks disapprovingly at the weather, but these two don't seem overly bothered by the storm; oh, to be a cat. I think I shall rouse the little dreamers by heading down to the kitchen - it's time for their dinner so I don't doubt I shall be popular.

After feeding the furries, I think I shall light a candle and send out a wish for Kim's safe homecoming. Have a good weekend and keep safe and dry.

Fireworks Night, Guy Fawkes and Squibbs!

Last night was a bit of a pain in the bum. Without trying to sound like the village curmudgeon, the fireworks set off by individuals and households seemed such a waste. The night was rainy and fairly blustery and each little 'display' comprised a paltry collection of noisier-than-pretty fireworks that had the cats trembling in their fur coats.

I'm not against fireworks per se, just the silliness of people setting them off in their back gardens when there's a perfectly good display put on by the village on Saturday night. We're less worried about the village sponsored display and the effect it will have on the cats too; we know what time it starts and roughly what time it will end and we can ensure the cats are with us and some loud music to mitigate the frights they will suffer. The problem with back garden fireworks is that they happen unexpectedly and from dusk to very late at night.

Ok, so maybe I am the village curmudgeon, but last year my company sponsored the organized firework display and would have done again if I'd been asked this year. As it is, I have two cats who are so clingy that I type with a bundle of nervous Bertie snuggled between me and my keyboard, while Boots is on his desk corner cat mat.

What happened to all the super games that used to happen around this time of year? I recall going to parties as a child and bobbing for apples, trying to catch apples hung on strings in my teeth and all sorts of other amusements. My uncle used to set up a brazier in the back garden (which was hedgehog-proof as side benefit) and we'd have a few sparklers and things to eat rather than shooting lots of money up into the air at the end of a blue touch-paper. Oh dear, I am turning into an old grouch.

It's a particularly English thing to do as well: celebrating the failed plot of one religious group to blow up the Establishment. Anywhere else, they'd have been tried, punished or killed and then forgotten about. We celebrate the event every year. I wonder if we ever ask ourselves why? English history is full of brutality and oppression, however much we like to portray ourselves as enlightened and "civilized" and the oppression of Catholics by the new Church of England was harsh. Perhaps it is our predilection for cheering on the under-dog and being less favourably inclined towards those who hold power that keeps this tradition going. Who knows?

Either way, this Saturday we shall find out of Boots and Bertie prefer Wagner to Def Leppard and Steeleye Span to Vivaldi; poor cats!

Furry Helpers

My furry little helpers. Boots on the right and Bertie trying to keep the keyboard space warm - silly boy!

Happy New Year

Ah, that was a quiet Samhain. With the onset of either a wound infection or allergy to the metal staples holding my hip replacement operation wound together, I've been quite ill over the past days. My poor old body has been throwing every ounce of energy into repairing itself and rejecting whatever is inflaming it, so the ritual I had planned just didn't happen. In fact, I felt so unwell that we didn't even open the house to Trick or Treaters, which has become rather a tradition with us.

The storm arriving during the night was welcome and feeling the breath of The Cailleach arriving reassured that if I wasn't working right, at least everything else was. Those wakeful hours between 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. were spent doing a whole lot of mental and emotional spring cleaning. Out with the old and outworn and make space for new, and hopefully better, things.

One thing I certainly didn't feel inclined to do was to make myself available to the recently departed - things are too raw and painful, though it was wonderful to see Mr Tom Smelly for a brief moment during the day - I miss him and feel glad that he's still around, keeping an eye on the new boys.

And so, a New Year. A time to heal emotionally, to recover physically and to reach for new horizons. The past few months have been cathartic, with so many layers being ripped away and now there's nothing left but being open to whatever life has in store for me - and what an adventure that will be. I'm at the end of a seven year cycle that had been downward in trend and filled with challenges that I would never have anticipated - all that dealt with, I feel it's time for some positive occurrences, whatever form they take.

To all of you, I wish a wonderful New Year, genuine friendship, love and gentleness.