Long Day...

Ending in Sewing!

Unravelling Gently...

It's the small things that upset me.  I found the last birthday card he sent me. It says "Happy Birthday, and thanks for being here"

I cannot imagine where else I might have been.


And I'm slowly unravelling the Mess and sorting the Stuff, and putting it all in different rooms, so that the possibilities of carrying on are made real. 


This was the big bedroom - it's all painted (although I'm finding the colour a bit stark, but there's nothing much on the walls yet.) The big alcove on the left above has  now lost the plan chest (in the bedroom) and I have put up racking for big shelves for my fabric boxes, shelves will be cut tomorrow, but I bought the wrong spurs so it may be a few days before it's all done. I'm pleased with myself for doing it efficiently and with accuracy, but also sad that the usual one-drills-and-one-holds-the-hoover thing wasn't possible.. I suspect there will be a lot of those in my life from now on.

I had already built a big table - probably the most useful thing and the one I miss most from the workshop -  I don't think I want to live without one of these, and the height is kind on  my back

Occupied within seconds by my constant companion...

And now utterly full of Stuff, awaiting sorting..

More pictures tomorrow, as I have the sewing machine, the big rug, and the ironing table all in place - and I hope to resolve the rest in the next few days..

Blessings to all, Happy Winter-Festival-Of-Choice, and a Hopeful and Prosperous New Year..

I had...

...a real bang-on-the-ear moment yesterday. I was walking up from Tesco’s into Beccles centre, suddenly was hit by the realisation that I was no longer permanently anxious...

I think this has been my permanent state for most of the last 5 years, possibly longer, and must have been because of John being so ill and fragile.. The last year has been particularly bad, as he lost his hearing and much of the use of his hands after the chemo and radiotherapy... 

I wonder if we will look back in the future and wonder why so many people were poisoned so badly in the attempt to rebalance a disordered system, as cancer is a disorder of the growth of cells, not so much a disease as a broken mechanism..

Anyway, I have been thinking about a new Word for 2020, and have decided on Renaissance (thanks Derek, for the suggestion). Yes, hard to spell, well, work on it, sweetie. It sums up my wishes so well. I want to remake, renew, revitalise, and review everything I do, in a constructive and upward-spiralling manner, and to re-examine my work with the parts of my life that have disappeared somewhat. I have been mourning my lovely man since May, and I think I'm almost done. He would not have wanted me to cry and mope, and I will not. I need to re-find my qigong, my bicycle, and my health and strength.

I do get upset, sometimes people are too nice, (that's pretty hard to take)  - today we had a lovely Christmas meeting of the Teapot Quilters - I founded this group and have passed it on this year to HB, and she's doing a great job. We moved it to the cafe at The Raveningham Centre, and it has expanded and renewed itself really well, with a core of good-hearted people and a few nice newcomers. The food (a pick-up lunch) was fantastic. I made a big bread-and-butter pudding from John's leftover bread in the freezer (I'm not much inclined to bread these days, too many carbs) with apples and sultanas and not-much-sugar, and it was delicious...

And sometimes so self-seeking

At the very end of the day the unpleasant man from the next-door business came in and picked a fight with me. I told him to F off, and he snidely said "I was very fond of John" - well, not enough to ask after him when he wasn't apparent for 8 weeks, or to say sorry that he was gone, or any of those things, just a nasty sulky little chucklefuck of the worst self-interested kind.. And this upset me in a way that is unacceptable and a waste of my energy, and I'm going to tell him that John thought he was a nasty little waste-of-space and a ruinous mistreater-of-tools (a cardinal sin in John's eyes).. I'm going to wait until lots of people are listening, though... Revenge, dish cold, etc..

Anyway, now I have to shower, move yet more stuff around upstairs fairly quietly (my neighbour goes to bed early) and sit in front of the fire with a mindless programme or two and a cup of tea.  

And some dark chocolate, I think

And then sleep in our big bed one more time, before I make a little one for myself...

Word

For 2020 will be Renaissance. More about that later
Green room is painted, counter built, awaiting more shelves then I can move lots of stuff upstairs..

I think it may well be mine now. Next, a small bed in the small room and a big workroom.. More shifting!

And the cat is definitely broken. Here she sits, awaiting a flush

What I have Learned...

...from nursing a terminally ill man for two months, and mostly doing all the looking after one for 6 months..

It's bloody hard work. And relentless. After a while you long to run away and not have to prepare meals which don't get eaten; prepare and provide drugs; change beds and clothes. Washing, washing-up, more washing, more sheets and towels and  t-shirts and pyjamas...

And you don't go, because that is unfair on your Lovely Man, who is almost always unfailingly polite and grateful and kind, even when you don't get things right or assume stuff or make mistakes. Or inedible dinners.

Eventually you need more help, and it's a good idea to ask sooner rather than too late, because then the pain in your back goes a little and you stop panicking that this sad soggy lovely man might fall over, or off the bed, and you may be helpless  to get him up again.  The invasion of the house is hard, too. We never spent much time entertaining visitors, and in the last 8 weeks we have had hundreds of different feet on our doorstep, nurses, doctors, delivery-people, palliative care, and all and all.  The cat is disturbed, and plays up.

And equipment! Dammit, all this stuff is functional but it's also astoundingly ugly. White-coated metal tubes everywhere. Yes, the electric bed is wonderful, but oh! I shall be so glad to see it go. I have no words for shower-seats that were not attached to the wall, toilet-lift frames that pinch, and grab bars in the wrong place. No, I will be suitably grateful, but I will also be very glad to have my dining-room back.

You spend far too much time waiting in the chemist's for "lost" prescriptions; cooking food which gets thrown away, and sitting quietly in a dim room while your Lovely Man sleeps, in case he wakes and needs you for something. You get up three times in the night in case he needs something. You empty his catheter bag and his stoma bags and you clean and replace these, and wash him, and comb his hair.. And you don't wash his hair often enough, as it's so hard to arrange. And, as you know he likes clean hair, this makes you feel inadequate. And you are so tired all the time.

And you feel bad if you go to sit by the fire when he cannot, to watch TV when he cannot, and go outside when he cannot.
This has been the most gloriously beautiful Autumn and I cannot speak of it, because it's unfair..

And then, he is gone, the sun comes up and the birds sing, and the relief is so enormous, that you want to sing and shout, but that would be wrong?

My Lovely Man...

Died today at 3pm.

Between one breath and the next-which-didn't-come, and peacefully by my side. I will miss him so much, and yet I cannot be sorry that his suffering is over. I will always remember him as the kind, peaceable, eminently skilled, beautiful soul that he was, and will be in all of our minds who knew him.

Our last day out together was to North Norfolk, for a splendid cafe lunch at Walcott, and a visit to the lovely gardens at East Ruston Old Vicarage, which he had never seen before. I'm so glad we had that splendid day in the sun. You will note that, he disliked being photographed, I didn't often get a front-facing picture

Turn, turn, turn

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, a time to die.

I'm sitting here in a dim dining room, with the lights turned low and my lovely man fading away in his gentlemanly fashion. He has stopped eating and pretty much stopped drinking, and is slowly dissolving from this life into the next. I will miss him so much, but I also want to carry on, to make a good thing of the next times, because that would please him. I showed him my plans for the house, and he was pleased.

We have had such a lot of time together; almost half my life,  but it will never have been enough.

And I am so glad that we are here, in the quiet together, not in some bleeping, noisy, interfering, brightly-lit, stupid hospital ward, with bustle and ignorance and "visiting times"...

I don't think I have ever done anything as hard as this, or in some ways as easy, because it is needed...

The work is endless, but the parts of it are easy enough, and I don't begrudge a moment. He did so many things for me, endlessly patient with my flights-of-fancy, making things, making time, making me happy.. I hope I did the same for him..

A time to laugh, a time to weep..

I really don't want to cry, but it's hard..

A time to build up, a time to break down

And I went over to the workshop for a cup of tea and a tiny break. Dill and Jo have taken over the front section of the place as a shop - to be called The Yard at Raveningham, and they have taken on  my garden, and walled, and painted, and made all fresh ad smart. And this is how it looks today, almost ready for a Grand Opening on Thursday evening, with the Christmas Shopping Thing






It's not mine any more. Yippee!

I took the photos to show John, but he's too far away..

Bless us both, and pray if you do that, good thoughts if not

Reasons to be Cheerful, I Think

Leaves are lovely. The colours lift my heart

I don't think I bear to be miserable for much longer, and it's not fair on my Lovely Man, who is so diminished, to take away a smiling face. Even if he is always asleep, he deserves better...


And there are always things to amuse me. In the rain, 1/2 hour to do everything, and after an argument with Boots, who don't order stuff in on time or at all, and seem not to give a monkeys... This nice thing in a gutter...


Roadkill - Sand Bag. Just love the textures in this photo



And my only bit of sewing this week - I had to make blocks for Siblings Together, string-pieced on A4 paper, not my idea of nice, too big. So, I made this one, total of A4 in 7 parts. Much more amusing...

Partitions Prepared, Placed, and Painted...

Progress...

Much, as they say, happens...

The workshop is not my workshop any more. In an odd sort of way I'm really glad that it's being divided and transformed, as it makes for a better break. The partitions are going up


and will have been clad with boards by tomorrow. The space on the shop side is nice, I just hope the rest is not too dark for HB.
And the cat and John are competing for the Most Sleepy cup. About 22 hours each, every day so far this week

They both seem capable of dropping-off at will in a few seconds.. I think it may be catching...

And here are my poor thumbs. Injected for arthritis, the last two days have been horrible. Now the right one is coming back up nicely, but the left is still weak, sore, and fragile.. Ouch.

Angry and Sad

But man and cat are peaceful enough

Home, Sweet Overloaded Home

My big Juki has landed in my tiny workroom, and, by gum, he takes up a lot of space. Nice to be able to sew again, once I have tidied up, of course

And I don't suppose these will stay like this, but for now, they do look rather good...

Life...

...does not always go according to one's Grand Plans. Just out of hospital, damaged back, crutches. Oh! Bugger!

Today's Silly Question

When told that the workshop will close at the end of October, the question was "So, why can't I come at Christmas to get my presents?"
Grrr. At the moment, I may run out of stock altogether before then anyway.. Last day of the Sculpture Trail tomorrow (Sunday 8th September) Hooray!!!

I did make a nice new postcard for the Sewing Machines - this is going to be my life from November, we may as well start with a good image...

Yesterday's Most Peculiar Question

Lady, while standing practically on top of my feet, asks
"I've never been here before. How am I supposed to know you are here?"

Answers? I wish I had one...


And for those of us who love him, here's my Lovely Man looking puzzled

Sculpture Trail

Well, we are a little way into the third Sculpture Trail here, with all the usual madnesses of long hours, lots of people (some of whom are exceedingly strange and ask the most peculiar questions) and a goodly selection of nice dogs...

One piece, in the pond, bears a striking resemblance to an abandoned bush. The local wildfowl are sophisticated critics...




I haven't had time to see all of the Trail, but these lovely hares by Christine Baxter are the best part of what I have seen





I'm hoping to see a bit more tomorrow.

Meanwhile, if this floats your metaphorical boat, the Trail (and the Ravenous Cafe, and  mine and Aitchbee's Exhibition in the said Cafe, continues until 8th September, and the Exhibition until 29th September

Been polishing, all day

Accidental skull...

Strange Places Inspire...

...looking downwards, in Beccles,  I see these interesting grids


..which conjure quilty thoughts

Some, of course, are better-decorated than others



This one needs making soooooon

Busy, busy...

Not only have I been sorting out the workshop (HB takes over in November, hurray!), but also trying to rebuild the house (bathroom mostly) and looking after my lovely man, who has been most unwell, rebuilt yet again by the NHS, and is seriously retired.. Or trying to be, at any rate. The cat is happy, anyway

And NO, I'm NOT retiring. Just moving the sewing-machine parts, downsizing, chucking-out, rationalising, and looking forward to a warm winter

Almost at the end of April...

...and no OCPs yet, so here's a selection

Assortment

Roadkill - Fruit Salad


Death of Literacy - in Tesco's


Lacy leaves