In My Case It's Duvet Covers

What is the worst household chore if you live alone?

For me it's changing the duvet cover. 

When I was newly married (in 1970) we started married life with the new-fangled idea imported from The Continent - the duvet. 

My wife was brought up in a mansion. Well a very large house in several acres of garden on the very top of a small hill visible from miles around. It was, like many such houses, Baltic everywhere except in the kitchen and living room. The dining and drawing room fires might be lit in the evening in the winter and when visitors were being entertained.  So she had been brought up with duvets.

Eiderdowns (as we called them - the best ones were originally made from the down of eider ducks because it was the warmest) were commonplace on top of one's blankets in winter for those who didn't aspire to duvets.

The duvet was basically a much improved version of the eiderdown and used on top of a single sheet or, indeed, without a sheet but in its own cover.

Since May 1970 I have never slept (in my own house) under anything other than a duvet.

I love them. HOWEVER, once every week, I always used to hate them at the same time. Because that was how often we used to change our duvet cover.  

To be fair if there were two people doing the job it wasn't too bad but on one's own it was a nightmare. 

Over the years, however, I have perfected the art by using pegs on the corners and it's less of a chore. However it is still one of my least favourite household tasks.

Your least favourite household chore is....?

Oh Dear

I think that I'm depressed. 

Not in the true meaning of clinical depression but just generally peed off with life, the universe and everything (thank you, Douglas Adams). 

With apologies to any supporters of Donald Trump who might stumble across this blog, I think that he is one of the main causes. 

I've managed into my ninth decade and am very grateful for the fact that I still have (to some degree or another) all my faculties. That despite, at the age of 15, having a disease that people still die of today. The remedy was to remove a lobe of a lung and, to this day, I'm grateful for the hospital team involved in what, 64 years ago, was quite major surgery. It was after that that I had a very brief bout of post-operative clinical depression. I used to go walking for hours and hours on end alone with my thoughts. It was very short-lived. That was 64 years ago and I've never had a hint since. I count myself exceptionally fortunate. 

The other thing is that I never was an ideas person. However, I'm very good at executing practical ideas provided they are within my capabilities.

I'm very grateful for the readers of the blog who have asked if I'm okay. Thank you. I apologise (again) for the fact that I've been neglecting my blogging duties.

Have any of my other readers who may be, shall we say, not as young as they once were, found that life takes a bit longer in just about every way?

Short of something really drastic happening there will be another post this coming weekend. 

Hospital

(Written: 20 August and not edited for updates)

The last few weeks have been very full on and quite stressful. Unrelated to any of the other goings on I have just been to hospital for my uretic stent change. It's relatively routine. In 2017 after complications with my cancer my right kidney blocked. Unfortunately it wasn't straightforward and the exit to my kidney had to have surgery and an internal stent inserted. Apparently it's relatively routine. Unfortunately it has to be replaced every 3 or 4 months. So for the last 8 years I have been travelling down to Ayr Hospital for the surgery. It has been a long journey but I've always combined it with a stay with my pal, Anna, in Glasgow. The hospital is absolutely fantastic and a model of what every hospital should be like. As a consequence many of the staff on the ward I have attended for years have been there the whole time. 

For various reasons I have had an unfortunate history of pre-sepsis and, on a few occasions, full blown sepsis. Occasionally after my procedure and usually after it had been delayed. As a result they never allow me to be discharged until they are sure that I'm okay. The medics seem to have found a solution, though, and I've not had any problems for a few years. 

Last November it was decided that, given my age etc, it would be better if I was transferred to Raigmore Hospital in Inverness which is my 'local' hospital. for major things. Our local Stornoway Hospital is excellent but lacks some specialities. Raigmore is a hospital built in it's current form in 1970 with the tower block being opened in 1985. It is now far too small and appears to be understaffed and, probably, underfunded. 

As it caters for the whole of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland patients who are on longer-term treatment are not looked after on wards within the hospital. There are accommodation blocks a few hundred yards away which provide bedrooms (without ensuite facilities) and nothing else. In winter and the rain it's a long trek over the car parks to the main hospital entrance and what passes for a cafeteria which closes at 6.30 pm. It's even longer when you are feeling absolute crap in the middle of treatment. 

Anyway I had my stent changed and walked back to the accommodation block and at crack of dawn next morning went to the airport and was home well before lunch. 

I'm still recovering from the shock. 

Dinner: Eating and Providing

I used to do a great deal of entertaining. Most of it involved food. Usually it involved providing dinner for up to 12 (the number in my 'dinner party circle'). However I prefered 10 which was the number that would fit very comfortably around my dinner table.  As it was not uncommon for a couple not to be able to come there was rarely a full complement anyway. That was all so long ago. Now unless I have visitors staying I rarely cater for more than three or four.

I was wondering to myself the other day whether this was because giving dinner parties has gone out of fashion or because of changing social intercourse.  On consideration there are various factors.  

Many of the social crowd that I was part of have died or left the Island. Most of my friends are of a similar age to me and, frankly, much as we all love getting together and even sharing food together, none of us wants to spend two days preparing and cooking a meal for a dozen  people.  So life is much simpler. 

The reason this subject popped into my mind was that, despite getting rid of most of my cookery books, the remnants still account for 18" of bookshelf. 

I last gave friends dinner last weekend and I am just about coming to terms with the fact that we  thoroughly enjoyed the meal (you can tell when people are just being polite!) and that the wonderful "home made" beef steak pie was 'home made' by one of the local butchers. The three local butchers that I and my friends shop at all vie for which can make the biggest variety and the best beef and steak and kidney pies. Not only that they all make their own lasagnes and all manner of things. It's one of the advantages of having local butchers one of whom at least still has a farm with it's own livestock.