It made one gasp and stretch one's eyes

There are a number of thoughts and themes whirling around my head, but so far they have not settled nicely into any rational order, or indeed, into a coherent treatise. So, until such time arrives, I will allow my mind to meander freely around this and that. It takes me some time to write a post, and sometimes it strikes me as amazing that in my school and student days I could dash off answers to exams - and do rather well in them. Age is creeping up on me.

Well yes, I had a birthday last Sunday. The day was spent quietly. We had lunch with friends and I spent some very happy and pleasant hours on the phone talking to my children and siblings. Dr P, now that he has resigned himself to the reality of the new bed, is even prepared to give me a birthday present, and so I am thinking of getting an iPod. Before I choose one I will hie me to my Apple class, and discuss it all with whichever instructor gets me that day, and get him/her to show me all the magic bits. Of course a new iPhone would be nice but it is probably rather too complicated for me right now - and there is always (she thinks optimistically) next year.

I was born on 4 July 1942. This is, of course, American Independence Day. My older sister was born two years earlier on Bastille Day, and when I had babies, their birth dates were significant ones - D-Day 6 June, and various Middle East wars also broke out (I like their cheek!) when I was busy doing more important and important things like giving birth - with far more benefit to the world than those troublesome wars.

My father was in the Navy, and at the time of my birth was working for Naval Intelligence under General Macarthur. He announced my birth to all the available Americans, and told them he was resisting the temptation to name me Virginia Carolina Georgia (!). Just as well, eh! I was given a far more prosaic name, which now dates me well and truly. It is actually the name which is most common in the choir, which gives a fair idea of the age demographic. Very few babies are given this name these days. They are all called Madison, Dakota, Lakota, Jordan, Taylor, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, or Mackenzie, poor little sods. Yes, I am one of the naming police. Watch out, I bite!

I might as well continue the saga of the bed. The New Bed. It is in situ and already I am sleeping better. Naturally its delivery was yet another drama. The stair lift firm was scheduled to arrive before the bed delivery men, to dismantle the stair lift. Five minutes after their scheduled arrival time I rang them up to see where they were. Er, they were in traffic. It turned out that the traffic was up around Gosford or Orange, which are both some distance from my inner suburban address. They promised to be there within the hour. The bed delivery men arrived 5 minutes later. Huge blokes they were, father and son, the son flinching painfully from the migraine which was afflicting him. Having heard that the stair lift was still in place, they cast an experienced (and somewhat jaundiced) eye over the premises, cast cistercians, nasturtiums, and aspersions at the soft and lily-livered men who had not even been prepared to have a go, and opined that they just might be able to get it upstairs. Which they did. It was a struggle and a juggle. In their view, the delivery should have been planned to be done by lifting it up over the balcony, with a four man crew. The shop, they reckoned, did not care two hoots about delivery problems, all they wanted was (Dr P's) money. They may be right, but the shop was actually rather good about it all, and did not (so far) ask for any extra delivery payment.

Having got the new mattress upstairs, they turned their attention to the bases. These they lifted up over the balcony. It really made one gasp and stretch one's eyes. Then they carried the old mattress and bases to the balcony level, remarking how much lighter and narrower they were than the new bed, and tossed them blithely onto the street below, kindly and carefully checking, before so doing, for any stray pedestrians or schoolchildren. Crash! I bade the old bed farewell without regret. I am assured that they are recycled.

I was pretty impressed by these blokes, so I gave them a little extra for their pains. Then I telephoned the stair lift firm to say that the bed had been delivered, and thus they could cancel their man. He was almost there, they said, and apologised for their stuff up. Some other emergency, they said, had made them forget me. They said their man would give the stair lift the once over, and that there would be no charge. And it was so.

So it all worked out in the end. I made the new bed, and staggered downstairs for a reviving cup of tea, and to reassure Dr P (who had stayed well out of the way) that all was well. He sniffed and snorted a bit, but was glad he had not been required to have anything to do with it all. (I can't say I blame him.) I took a photo of the bed and showed it to him. The rest of the day was devoted to less arduous and exciting pursuits - such as food shopping or suchlike. I tell you what, I can do without this sort of excitement, it makes me twitch and shake madly, my heart thump, and provokes migraines.

The bed is comfortable and soft, and I am sleeping much more soundly - a couple of times the whole night through. Unbelievable. This has not happened for years. And years. My physiotherapists, who are kindly folk, rejoice in my new and improved circumstances. All I hope is that this bed lasts long enough (ie that I perish before it does), and that I NEVER EVER have to go through this drama again. Not in this house, not with this husband.

What's more, my temper is sweeter, and I have been gadding about happily. My library membership is renewed, I paid my fines, borrowed some more books, bought a few from Vinnies, got another couple from the choir, and gave them some of my spares. I tossed out some old reports that I have not looked at for ten years, so there is slightly more space in the bookshelves. A bed sheet has been re-elasticised. A friend has given me some Seville oranges, and so I will have to make some more marmalade. Work, work, work! The choir is in countdown mode for our concert in about ten days, and I have been reading a lot and listening to lovely music.

Yesterday, Saffronlie and I had a very enjoyable lunch together, and have discovered many things in common and many coincidences. I love things like that.