Birthday Girl

My youngest grandchild turned three yesterday. Her party was a small affair, just Mummy and Daddy and her big brother. But going by the video I saw they all seemed to have had a jolly good time.

 I haven't seen Emily and her family since August 2019. I expected to visit them in Norfolk in Spring last year but of course, that wasn't possible. Then they were supposed to come to Ireland in late Summer but that wasn't possible either. I miss seeing them so much. WhatsApp calls are a delight but they don't come with hugs. 

I didn't feel up to writing this last night although I did have a lovely phonecall with Emily and her mum even though Emily should have been in bed. Norfolk will be my first port of call as soon as it is safe and restrictions are lifted but goodness knows when that will be. BBC News reports tonight that half of the patients in our local area hospital have tested positive for coronavirus. 

In other news, I cut my own hair this evening. Gathered it all into a high ponytail, ran my fingers to its end and cut off around an inch of split ends. I missed a few locks so might have to do it again in the morning. 

And I'm in a state of nervous anticipation about Wednesday's inauguration. There will be wine.

The Man Above

 First of all, I have to report that I didn't get very far with the novel. Just a few changes in the notes about how many illegitimate children the father had before he met the mother and some new thoughts on infant mortality.

For I was too busy paying heed to the Georgia run-offs. Got up early on Wednesday morning and positively whooped at the news that the Democrats had succeeded. That was a good feeling about US politics that didn't last the day. For, as everyone now knows, there was a bit of an insurrection on Capitol Hill. 

The day after Bert had to see the man up the road who is quite the Trump fan, and who believes the orange one to have been sent by God to turn around the evils of this world. No matter, that God's chosen one has a dubious grip on morals and decency, for He works in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform... as isn’t written in scripture.

The man up the road informed Bert that the rioters were most emphatically not supporters of Trump. They were in fact actors and Antifa. He maintains that in a months time the truth will out, Trump will be back in the White House and Biden will be in jail!

My thoughts? I have come to believe that those who take the bible literally are capable of believing anything.

Meanwhile, closer to home, Bert’s Aunt Lizzie was admitted to hospital on Monday. There was a day-long wait for the GP’s visit and then a five hour wait for an ambulance which, when it finally arrived, was staffed by volunteers all the way from County Fermanagh.

Anyway, the hospital did some tests and she has a serious problem. She refused a biopsy and they said she could go home, but not until the social workers had arranged some extra help at home – which is good. Then the hospital phoned to inform her next-of-kin that the hospital bay she’d been nursed in had a coronavirus case so now all those patients are in isolation for ten days. These are crazy times and not a good time to get sick.

But for now, I am looking forward to the Spring, the vaccine and a hair cut. And Bert is looking forward to receiving the £30 bet we put on the results of the American election. I said I wouldn’t pay up until inauguration day. For anything could happen. Anything.

Tinnitus

 I've only recently become aware of a sort of rushing, hissing sound in my ears. It's always there, but it's low-level. During the day I don't notice it. It's at night, when I'm in bed that I hear it most and it has started to make me feel stressed. For at night it's SO LOUD.

That's one problem. Another problem is - what sort of image can I use to illustrate a blog post about tinnitus? Well. The noise in my head is not the only thing that is causing me anxiety. What about Covid-19? That's a huge pisser. Always there at the back of my mind, impacting everything. My nephew tested positive. He's OK, thanks be. My brother had a much-longed-for holiday cancelled for the umpteenth time. One sister has tinnitus far worse than me and she had an appointment with a specialist postponed indefinitely. A very close family member had her wedding cancelled at the last minute. And, most difficult of all, another of my sisters is currently undergoing treatment for cancer and as well as that anxiety, she and her family have to be extremely careful about shielding.

Anyway, here's my chosen image. A snippet from First Dog on the Moon which encapsulates another one of my current anxieties.

I did a bit of research on tinnitus and knowing that there is no point in seeking help from my GP as it is hardly that big a deal in the circumstances, I decided to find my own cure. Distraction. I take my radio to bed and tune it to Radio 3, turn the volume down and drift off to sleep. If I wake up (and I usually do) I don't think about the stupid noise in my head, I just listen to the radio. They play some weird stuff at night. Baritones singing Auld Lang Syne in Russian, tinkly things, obscure operas. This particular night after I'd wakened, peed and returned to bed there was a very shrieky soprano singing so I thought I'd change channels. Radio 4 had someone expounding the necessity for a Trump second term, so I moved to Classic FM hoping for a similar soporific effect. Head on pillow. What's this? A childish voice prates,

Grandad had two strokes, now he has vascular dementia...

Leap from bed. Back to Radio 3. Who wants to hear stuff like that in the middle of the night?