It was the dreaded 03.30 again. But I drifted off afterwards without too much trouble. And was awake around 06.30.
The cleaners were coming at 09.00. I needed to be showered and up. I’m in a bit of a quandary about whether to retain or dismiss them. They are not thorough enough – they leave rubbish in the room bins and don’t move mats and the dog’s bed when hoovering. And don’t de scale the shower cubicle. I don’t think they really have time to do it. I really like them as people. It’s a tricky one.
Anyway the cleaners came and cleaned, as I moved Heidi’s bed.
I had decided to take H to Greenham to keep my feet dry and clean. The sun was trying to shine, but it was very chilly with a sharp breeze.
My journey there was marginally worse than my journey back. I had intended to use the A4 to access Cookham Common and thence Greenham. Oh dear!
First problem – the road was closed at Aldermaston Wharf. So I travelled further along the A4 and attempted to reach Greenham via Thatcham rail crossing. Another disaster .
The road was half closed but I ignored that to be confronted by a river flowing across it , perpendicular to the road itself. Workmen were about to swing into action , so I swung the car into a 10 point turn, mindful of the waterlogged ditches that bordered the edges of the narrow road, both in front of me and behind me.
And instead I drove through Thatcham and then the middle of Newbury to access Greenham.
And the rest is history … so they say…
The walk was in full on sunshine. New dog ponds have been formed and some even had ice on them. New and deep potholes litter the car park making it all bouncy and uncomfortable. Probably not that good for the car either.
New dog ponds with a hint of ice.
I had decided I would return home via the A34. But urgent hints indicated that I might need a loo stop before getting home. A chilly wind had made it to places in my body where it was not welcome and was wreaking havoc. So I stopped by the M4 /A34 services. The loo was fine. But M and S let me down because I wanted an avocado pear and they did not have any.
Grunt! Tesco at Goring would be my next stop.
But not for a while, because no sooner had I rejoined the A34 and I was in a stationary line of traffic. This eventually started to crawl along and cleared once past an ‘incident’. What was left of the ‘incident’ was a lorry trailer whose arse had been reshaped . And not prettily.
I travelled on via Goring. Goring is rather full of the River Thames at the moment . Well fuller than usual. Full of swagger, the brown waters seem to have visited every possible corner including George Michael’s one-time residence where his swimming pool is now rather fuller and rather browner. It’s all rather thoughtless. And wet.
I have since discovered that to get to Aldermaston directly from the A4 is not possible, not due to flood waters, but because ‘they’ are dismantling the bridge. To rebuild it even better. That’s good timing. On Friday I am due to meet friends at the Butt Inn the other side of the Bridge. A detour is required.
The pinched nerve somewhere in my shoulder continues to drive chronic pain so it radiates right down my arm and into my left hand – particularly when I lie down. I can sleep sitting upright fine. But when it comes to lying down …. I think this is responsible for some of my disturbed sleep.
Tonight I had had enough and, after taking useless paracetamol, I filled a hotty which I put under my neck and left shoulder. Formidable! As the French would say. It reduced the pain enough for me to pretend it was not there.
The next few days are busy- occupied with short term activities – SW, car service, collecting T, meeting Brenda, meeting Basingstoke friends, getting H vaccinated etc etc .
Thought for the Day
You never know what you have until it is no longer there… and boy, do I miss him. It is four weeks ago today…
From Trudi …
“Last message …
HHJ Julian Hall was unable at the last to attend but watched on the webcast.
He said …
It was an exceptional service & very comforting I thought. The whole thing was moving but not morbid. A heartfelt celebration of the life of a man who was a true one-off. ”
That last Sunday…
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