Not The Best of Days….

Yesterday was not one of my better days – my knees hurt like h*ll. We went into town for some shopping, bill-paying and a library visit. I did very little walking and I snapped at B for fussing over finding parking spaces close enough to the places I needed to go (I HATE being an invalid!), but his caution turned out to be right. By the time we got to the library, I only just managed to grab an Ian Rankin book before I was forced to sit down.
Once home, I immediately necked one of my painkillers. Not very willingly – I don’t like taking any sort of pill at all; these painkillers, although they work well, turn my brain to mush. I just cannot concentrate on anything.
I tried to do some work on the computer, but found myself scrolling through blogs instead, then wandering onto message-boards. I cut off the internet connection and still did no work, ending up playing games against the computer. So I gave up, went downstairs, and sprawled goggle-eyed in front of the TV for the evening.
I didn’t sleep well. By the time I got to bed, the painkiller had worn off. My knees weren’t aching too much but my brain, freed from an afternoon and evening of drugged inactivity, came back to life and demanded some exercise. So I gave up on sleep, went downstairs and spent nearly three hours reading emails, reading books, watching TV news and doing the Guardian crossword.

Today, my legs are OK again. We drove to the nearby village of Parton and took a look at the James Clerk Maxwell exhibition they are holding in the village hall there. Maxwell had a house nearby and is buried in the local churchyard – the 125th anniversary of his death is in November. The exhibition was tiny, and it will end on Saturday. But it was interesting nevertheless, and will raise funds for the village.
So, we got back home, I went to do some work on the computer, B settled down to read and cook. At 5.40, the electricity went off – I had forgotten to get tokens for the electric meter. We hadn’t eaten, we cook on electricity, I had some work to finish on the PC. So we had to have electricity there and then – couldn’t wait til morning. The village Post Office, where I usually buy them from, shut at 5.30. So, it was a 15-mile drive into town. But first, we needed to get some desiel in the car. This means doing a 6-mile detour to the nearest garage.
When we got to the garage, I told B to only get £5 worth – we are short of cash. But, somehow he misunderstood. And put in £10 worth instead. Never mind – we still had enough to buy some electric tokens. It just wouldn’t leave us very much cash for the weekend.
In town, B dropped me off close to the shop, I got the tokens, came out to find him parked right at the kerb ready to pick me up.
“I’m not doing this for your comfort,” he said, “I’ve just thought – my chops were cooking under the grill when the electric went and I can’t remember turning it off before we went out. So we have to rush back in case they’re catching fire!”
It took him a good ten seconds or so to understand why I was laughing……

We drove home the pretty way, via Lauriston, along a winding road that cuts through forest and fields and runs a mile alongside the Loch. There were huge numbers of wild pheasants around; they are such brainless creatures that they made driving difficult as B kept trying to avoid them on the road. They just stand there, looking at you until you’re almost upon them. Then they scaramble awkwardly out of the way and just stand there again, blinking and trying to remember what had just frightened them. They are utterly stupid birds – which says a lot about the so-called sporting skills of the people who pay to shoot them; a blind paraplegic could bag himself a pheasant, so long as somebody pointed his wheelchair in the right direction to run it down.
Anyway, there were plenty of heaps of bloodied feathers on the road, providing a feast for the local carnivores. Jackdaws were greedily flocking all along the road; we turned one bend and startled a feeding red kite; we turned another bend and passed a fox crouching in the verge.
Autumn windfalls indeed….