In mid-November, I enjoy taking a day off work on my own when I carry out a few jobs in preparation for Christmas. I look through all the photos I’ve taken during the year and compile a photo-book for the year, I write this note (which, for the past 15 years has acted as a substitute for a diary) and I write all the Christmas cards. This year, however, I’ve had rather more time to do these tasks since I’ve been off work since 29th September.
Just 24 hours before we were due to go on holiday, I awoke early with a strange sensation in my forearms. It wasn’t painful, but I suspected that something was wrong, so I called the NHS 111 non-emergency medical service. After answering a few questions, the operator told me that he was calling an ambulance for me, and less than an hour later I was in the cardiac unit of Royal Blackburn hospital. I was subjected to numerous tests throughout the morning and the results all seemed positive, so at about 4pm, when a doctor came round and announced that I had suffered a heart attack, I was quite shocked.
I was transferred to a cardiac ward, and the next day underwent an angiogram, where it was discovered that blood flow in three arteries was severely restricted. The doctor fitted stents to cure the worst two blockages, but the third will require a heart bypass operation. I’m now on the waiting list, and hope to be treated early in the new year. I was off work for seven weeks, but I began a phased return to work in mid-November, and since the consultant allowed me to ride my bike again, life is gradually getting back to normal. I wear a heart monitor whilst on the bike, but I’ve been told to limit my heart rate to 122 beats per minute. It’s like driving a car with a rev limiter set to 2000rpm: very frustrating!
Unfortunately, I have inherited a history of heart disease, and so this diagnosis did not come as such a great surprise. One consolation was hearing that had I not watched my diet and exercised as much as I have, it would have happened sooner, and perhaps with worse consequences. As it stands, I expect to make a full recovery, and in six months, I’ll be better that I ever was. So I’m told.
Other than that, things are fine here. We don’t have any more holidays planned (so no more insurance claims to deal with!), and it’s just a matter of putting our life on hold for a few months until we return to normal. To fend off boredom whilst off work, Emily encouraged me to write an autobiography, although that makes it sound rather grand: it is merely a collection of stories, anecdotes and experiences and provides a historical record of an ordinary life. It was strange writing it, because during the day, I was ‘living’ in the 1970s and 1980s, with no interruptions. Then Gee would come home from work and suddenly, I’d be plunged back in the 21st century. From a current perspective, life 40-odd years ago was a wonderfully simple and happy time.
The first draft is completed, but I’m waiting a few weeks before reviewing it once more before making final adjustments and improvements. Emily is currently reading the first draft, hopefully without a red pen in her hand.
There is nothing major to report about the children: Laurence is still working at Direct 365 doing whatever it is he does, and Emily is still at the Seashell Trust working as an Occupational Therapist. She is now living in Timperley, but is considering buying a property in the new year, possibly in Macclesfield. They both seem content. They accompanied us on a trip to Ireland in May when we visited Geraldine’s cousin whose daughter was making her first Holy Communion. We had a lovely few days, made more special because the weather was glorious and unexpected for the west coast of Ireland. It was marvellous being on holiday with the whole family once more.
Geraldine is still working at Blackburn council, and looking to take early retirement, but it seems that however strapped for cash the council are, they still want her to continue working for them. She continues to enjoy her work as wedding celebrant, officiating most weekends, but she admits to becoming nervous when ‘celebrities’ are in the congregation. It was the chap who plays Steve McDonald in Coronation Street last week.
My work was going fine until the summer when I had to deal with a new HR system. I have long told people that I love my job, which was true until about 6 months ago, when I discovered that this new system wouldn’t let me do what was required, and I became increasingly frustrated with it. No-one was able to help since none of the ‘experts’ had experienced any of the problems I was uncovering, and so I was just left to struggle and find work-round solutions on my own. I was falling behind with my day-to-day work, and by August I realised that I was no longer enjoying the role and becoming anxious about things not getting completed. I suspect that this contributed to my illness, and so when I return full time, I will be careful to improve my work-life balance.
We’ve been enjoying using our reworked kitchen, which was finished in October 2015, but there were problems with the dining furniture we bought for it. As I write (in mid-November), I am waiting for the firm to deliver replacements for a corner bench, dining table, four dining chairs and one bar stool which were all faulty. You’ll be pleased to hear that two other bar stools were fine, but that was all. I think we’ve now heard the full range of excuses the company holds in its database. The trouble was, we had paid the firm prior to delivery, so we had very little bargaining power.
I enjoyed cycling during the year, covering more miles in 2016 than I have for many years. As well as an annual charity bike ride, which this year visited the Kintyre peninsula and the island of Mull, I try to get away on a solo touring holiday each year, and this July, I visited Lewis and Harris in the Western Isles. I always need a reason to visit such locations, and this year it was to see the Callanish standing stones. I once read a novel which was set here and since then, I have planned to visit this monument which pre-dates Christianity by almost three millennia. I’m thrilled to have seen it, although Lewis didn’t impress me as much as I’d hoped (it was rather a flat and uninspiring landscape). The Hotel Hebrides in Tarbert was a terrific base, however, making it easy to explore the whole region. It was very near the port; so close that I could still use the ship’s wifi after I had checked into my room! Apart from the stones, the most memorable sight were the beaches on Harris which overlook the island of Taransay, made famous by the BBC TV series Castaway 2000.
Emily’s company, the Seashell Trust, are a charity who organise a cycle sportive each year to raise money, and in September, Laurence, Emily and I all entered. Laurence and I rode the 100km event through the gorgeous Cheshire countryside, whilst Emily, cycling with a less experienced colleague, rode 50km. In May, Laurence and I also thoroughly enjoyed our cycling trip to Mallorca, covering some 330 miles. We’ve both booked again for 2017, and I’m now just hoping that I’ll be sufficiently recovered to take part, or I might be forced to spend the week relaxing by the pool.
I had a new experience for my birthday when the children bought me a flight in a helicopter. It took two attempts, however, since the aircraft broke down on the first date I’d arranged, and I had to postpone the second since I found I was double booked with a business trip to RAF Lossiemouth which I didn’t want to miss. I had a wonderful ride flying over East Lancashire in a Bell 206L, which was a lovely aircraft, and far more attractive than you’d expect a 34 year-old machine to look.
The garden didn’t look too great on Boxing Day when we, like much of the country, experienced torrential rain. Our neighbour was so worried, he actually called the fire service who politely advised him that since there was no danger to life, they wouldn’t attend. The tiny ditch at the back of the garden overflowed, filling the pond to about six inches above its normal level, while a vigorous brook forged its way through the garden at the lower end. No harm was done, unlike others nearby who were not so lucky.
By late spring, the garden had recovered, and against her better judgement, Geraldine was again persuaded by the Garden Club to open the garden to the public in June. This caused her considerable stress in the weeks before, when she was dashing round trying to get everything just so. On the day itself, there was a storm in the afternoon, but this had cleared by 5pm, and we were lucky that the weather remained dry for the rest of the evening. About 60 people turned up, although we were too busy to count them. We won’t be doing it again, since the club left everything to Geraldine, including organising directions and parking and even selling refreshments, while the committee members wandered round the garden like they were visiting a National Trust property.
We spend most weekends and summer evenings in the garden. There’s nothing better than sitting by the pond watching the sun go down. Of course, to get to that point, we’ve generally spent all day weeding, clipping, dead-heading and mowing grass. The trees I planted in the field are generally growing strongly, although I don’t think the Scots Pine like the conditions since only three of the ten I planted remain alive. In addition, the Rowan trees have contracted some form of disease and although they are alive, they don’t look healthy. It won’t be long now before I can sling a hammock between a couple of trees and begin enjoying my retirement.
We still have two cats, although for a time, we had three. Our neighbour sold up and had bought a new house which was not yet completed, and so in the interim, moved to temporary accommodation where pets were not allowed. We were asked to look after their ten-year-old cat, Whiskas who, were he not seriously overweight, would look like the cat in the Felix advert. He was already an outdoor cat, so we gave him access to our shed where he lived for nearly five months. Our cats tolerated him, although we did hear a bit of hissing now and then. Whiskas moved out after bonfire night to his new accommodation in Buckshaw village, and I believe he’s settling in, although in moving to a new housing estate, I suspect he’ll miss the prairie-like open spaces of Brindle.
The Cavendish pub has a very varied recent history, either booming or being on the verge of closing. However for the past nine months, it’s been great, with a manager who knows his stuff. The only downside is that we can no longer just stroll over on a Friday evening and get a table – we have to book in advance, and even then, we don’t always get ‘our’ table! On balance, I prefer it this way, though.
Finally, I’m sure you’ll be keen to hear that the dining furniture has arrived, and is now safely installed, just 12 months late.
I hope you have a peaceful Christmas and wonderful 2017.