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a getting there
greetings from the Notting Hill Carnival, and from the woman who had food poisoning (or something) too badly to go out on the first day...

sleepless again

knitter's teacup
"Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care - please see icon..."

Aug. 6th, 2014

adult dragon
Would dragon-fanciers check this linage, please? I didn't know this was possible.

Adopt one today!


Very severe flashes of light; I thought it must be migraine. Now includes or replaced by heavy floaters, in the right eye only.

Not sure if my own Sword of Damocles has started to fall, or at least slip. I was told to go to hospital if this happened so, if it gets worse, I'll phone them or go to their A & E.

Update; apparently the condition is caused by gel separating from the retina, inside the eye. Not painful, but these symptoms are identical to those of retinal detachment - after I got back from hospital I was trying to sleep in a pitch dark, curtain-closed bedroom. With my eyes closed the flashing was comparable to having a lighthouse just outside, or lightning flashing with every pulsebeat ...

Some time ago an F'lister found a large lump and wrote about boob-mice. There's something there to remind me, but it's difficult to describe - the process leaves "floaters", especially a tangled, dense thingy that looks and moves a lot like a jumping spider. (Creep, creep, cre... Hop! and it pounces on whatever I'm looking at.

Anyway, I'd better get used to the spyder or I might swerve to avoid something that isn't actually there. I've been very strongly warned not to fall. The tugging of the gel can detach the retina and a knock or a jolt could make the difference.

There may be other tricky after-effect. I evidently slept for 12 hours after returning from hospital - the downside is that they were from about 5.30 a.m. to 6p.m.

Anyway, I must start getting on with things - it looks as though there's a lot that I'll still be able to get on with.

Prayers of gratitude are top of the list.

A winter of changes. A summer of ...?

It's getting easier to use the journal again now that I'm adjusting to this new laptop. I would never have thought that one day I'd be using a machine with hard plastic taped over its touch-pad because it's ticklish, but if I don't protect it the cursor jumps, wriggles and it's clearly only a matter of time before it hits something vital and deletes it.

So now I'm updating in arrears. I was there for the last moments of one of my old gardens. I was passing to go to the supermarket, heard the machines and ... just had a feeling about it. I'm not sure why I went down the ramp.

It was the front garden, the one in the icon. So I was standing, helplessly, while it was returned to the nitrogen cycle. I tried to get cuttings but it was the wrong time of year and, as far as I know, nobody ever managed to strike or save a cutting from the tough old honeysuckle that made up most of the hedge.

A honeysuckle hedge is a lovely feature; it isn't self-supporting but it will run joyously over almost any kind of fencing material. (It's also possible to have it growing over one little section that slides along and back, so the garden apparently has no entrance unless you know exactly how to do it)

28 years - at least, I was there for that long. I've been here since 2010 so the gardens at the old place were about 32 years old. (I got the huge golden rose the month N was born.)

They were strips of mud and rubble when I moved into the old place, as fertile as a wet brick. (I terraformed them both; the back garden was so bad that it needed methods from a Heinlein book - strips and pockets of fertile soil together with earthworms begged from a friend in Addlestone. The worms clean and colonise the surrounding ... stuff. You can judge when soil becomes wholesome by the colour of your earthworms.)

Afterwards I was trying to get the old laptop to work well enough to make a post about it; however, when I read my f'list a friend's beloved pet had died on her birthday, and she wrote, "As though he had waited for me". I cried a bit when I read that, and then a little more every time I thought of those words over the next few days.

The other side of the building is completely fenced off. I have no idea whether the back garden, with its wall of scented golden roses, is still living or not - but I brought a lot of that one with me.


Farewell to my garden,
the bulldozers roll,
To take down the place
that gave balm to my soul.
The place full of birdsong,
the place full of quiet,
(the border of roses,
that saved me from riot.)

Farewell to the fuschias,
they've grown into trees,
bedizened with bells
that ring quiet in the breeze.
Farewell to the place
that my heart loves the most,
While the trumpets of daffodils,
Sound the Last Post.
and now

This has been a grand year for roses, so far. "R's rose" (the big Rosa Schoolgirl by the fence) flowered so early that it's already over; I must prune and hope for a second flush of blossom.

The Dreaming Spires are gorgeous, this year. I have those front and back, here. One is espaliered against the bungalow wall, in front, and the other three are against the wall that runs between me and the school playground. I could see them peeping over the top when I went into the school to vote.

May. 27th, 2014

It seems to be nice and quiet out there tonight - not that it made any difference. I woke at midnight anyway...


foxes - and the night has almost fled.

E Moon quote
It's been quiet and peaceful since about 3 a.m. Not a squeak or a yap.

I felt so guilty about using the flash camera to scare the fox-cubs. Then I took the trash out - and the half-grown cubs were almost directly outside; they stopped playing, bounced away from me and dived into the bushes, all in perfect silence! Apparently they've worked out what the problem is and adapted.

A pity that all the neighbours children aren't that bright!
sleepy - bright_light
I finally got the new laptop working (too late to wish a friend a happy birthday on the right day.) It's Windows 7 because everyone told me that's better than Windows 8.

Windows 8 must be truly dreadful.
Computerless days

and the long chatless nights
The songs are too sharp
and the city shines bright.

The foxes are yipping,
It's not quite the loneliest sound.
Went out with a camera,
and that's when they all went to ground!
There's four little cubs,
When they flee it's the funniest thing.
But I did my duty,
'Cos no-one can sleep when they sing.

I can't get a picture
the lighting is wrong for the flash.
It's best that the cubs learn
that bothering humans is rash.
a flash-photo startles,
so playing cubs may become rare.
But worse could be waiting
if they go on yapping out there.

(There's a real risk that a fox-cull may be coming because of the fearless beast; it's the beast's attitude that scared people - so using the camera to scare the cubs seemed the best way to stop them from being fearless. The flash camera caused a mini-panic.

I feel so cruel, but a cull would take about 70% of the foxes.

The cubs are tiny, cat-sized but fubsy; very, very cute. The fearless animal that gave me the slithering creeps about three weeks ago was very much bigger and so much darker that I'm pretty sure it's not related to them. I'm hoping that the resident pair have sent him on his way.)

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August 2014



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