A good night' sleep. Read Robert McCrum's Every Third Thought and turned my light off about 12:30. Woke up at 5:30 feeling much better. A lovely evening last night, the moon nearly full, a few clouds, bright stars, and owls hooting like mad.
Off to Pol's today to help set up Paycocke's for her radio play this evening. A sell out apparently. Need to keep an eye on my budget. All my treats (e.g. tent) and expeditions to Coggeshall and London (at least £30 a pop for train fares - B's lunch on Nov 12, then Just This Day, the Trevors and Holy Moly and the Crackers on 22/23 Nov) start to add up. My Phoenix pension should come in in the next day or so, and the first instaLment of my state pension about Nov 11, so I should be alright.
McCrum very good, if a bit grim about Alzheimers and dementia. 65 is the critical age he says. Do a test on the interweb? At what point do I decide to pull the plug? You don't want to jump the gun, but if you leave it too late, you may not even realise there's a problem. Or be capable of doing anything about it. I have to finish him (McCrum) by Nov 4 as there are 9 people waiting to read it.
Last night Laura wrang the necks of the surviving two cockerels and laid them on the wall for Andrew to take up to the incinerator. I wanted to plead for their lives, but they'd need to be locked up (danger of them spreading disease to the farm flock) and L & A aren't prepared to invest in a cage. When Laura went back to the wall a little later both chickens had disappeared. This morning one of them appeared outside the door looking none the worse for his recent death. Obviously the Second Coming. Laura has wrung hundreds of chickens necks. She pulled and twisted and heard the bones crunch. If I wasn't cycling to catch the train I'd take the survivor down to Pol's.
It's funny how many people, some of whom have been off the sauce for months, complain of aches and pains. And I'm the same. Funny little muscle and joint pains all over (and of course the cancer of my upper right mandible, although that seems to be getting better). So, if nothing else, regular imbibulation of alcohol is a pain killer. I remember years ago watching a programme about palliative care and pain relief, being told that the best pain relief was often achieved by injecting pure alcohol into the pituitary gland. On the whole, at the moment, I quite like the aches and pains - evidence of consciousness, if nowt else.
Off to Pol's today to help set up Paycocke's for her radio play this evening. A sell out apparently. Need to keep an eye on my budget. All my treats (e.g. tent) and expeditions to Coggeshall and London (at least £30 a pop for train fares - B's lunch on Nov 12, then Just This Day, the Trevors and Holy Moly and the Crackers on 22/23 Nov) start to add up. My Phoenix pension should come in in the next day or so, and the first instaLment of my state pension about Nov 11, so I should be alright.
McCrum very good, if a bit grim about Alzheimers and dementia. 65 is the critical age he says. Do a test on the interweb? At what point do I decide to pull the plug? You don't want to jump the gun, but if you leave it too late, you may not even realise there's a problem. Or be capable of doing anything about it. I have to finish him (McCrum) by Nov 4 as there are 9 people waiting to read it.
Last night Laura wrang the necks of the surviving two cockerels and laid them on the wall for Andrew to take up to the incinerator. I wanted to plead for their lives, but they'd need to be locked up (danger of them spreading disease to the farm flock) and L & A aren't prepared to invest in a cage. When Laura went back to the wall a little later both chickens had disappeared. This morning one of them appeared outside the door looking none the worse for his recent death. Obviously the Second Coming. Laura has wrung hundreds of chickens necks. She pulled and twisted and heard the bones crunch. If I wasn't cycling to catch the train I'd take the survivor down to Pol's.
It's funny how many people, some of whom have been off the sauce for months, complain of aches and pains. And I'm the same. Funny little muscle and joint pains all over (and of course the cancer of my upper right mandible, although that seems to be getting better). So, if nothing else, regular imbibulation of alcohol is a pain killer. I remember years ago watching a programme about palliative care and pain relief, being told that the best pain relief was often achieved by injecting pure alcohol into the pituitary gland. On the whole, at the moment, I quite like the aches and pains - evidence of consciousness, if nowt else.
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