Winter Swimmers

Falmouth is hellish when an easterly blows – you go out of the house and it feels as if someone has thrown a bucket of iced water in your face. It trickles down your neck, gets up your nose, in your eyes and up your sleeves, whips all the heat from your body. And because our flat faces east, all the heat is sucked out of our living room windows making the flat freezing.

But this morning, after over a week of gusting easterlies, the wind has dropped and we all heaved a sigh of relief and headed for the beach this morning where the tide was out and the sky and sea melded together in a haze.

Six swimmers were in the water. The winter swimmers are stoic, mostly over sixty or seventy, and swim every morning, regardless of the weather. This morning I spoke to Dominic, a poet who shared the moments of TV Fame back in December and asked him why he did it.

“It gets me going in the morning,” he said, pulling his jumper on over salt sticky flesh. “I can feel the salt on me for the rest of the day. And I seem to have avoided any colds or flu.”

His eyes are dark and bright and his skin was glowing, so he must be doing something right. I remarked on how many people there were this morning and he grinned.

“It’s a sign of global warming,” he said. “You used to measure the swallows in your garden. Now it’s winter swimmers.”

So now you know - want to keep fit? Get swimming. Personally, I'll wait until it warms up a bit.

Good news

Himself had his latest PSA test last week (for his cancer) and the results have come back.

It’s down to 1.8 which means he can stop taking the medication for a few months which is excellent news.

The medication certainly halts the cancer, but the side effects are numerous. Hot and cold flushes, depression, weight gain and severe joint pains are just a few.

But what most people don’t talk about is the fact that it causes impotence. Yes, that scary word that no one – particularly men – like to talk about.

In non medical terms, prostate cancer is caused by too much testosterone in the system, so if you knock that out, the cancer will stop growing.

So you can either get treatment and say good bye to your sex life. Or - well, I don’t need to spell it out do I?

But we had the good news yesterday, which means that in about a month’s time (when the drug has worked its way out of his system), we will be firing on all cylinders, so to speak. (How delicately put is that?)

Flowerpot now has a smile on her face.

Annie and Toenails

On Thursday we go and collect Annie, an Old English Sheepdog who belongs to a friend of ours down the road. The indomitable 82 year old Betty, Annie’s owner, is going on a cruise for three weeks and rather misguidedly, at Christmas time I volunteered to walk Annie in the mornings. (Betty’s son is staying in her house while she’s away to look after Annie but being a breakfast chef he starts work at 6am so can’t do that shift.)

I’m rather wishing I’d kept my trap shut to be honest. Annie’s a darling but it is quite a responsibility looking after someone else’s dog – what if she was ill or ran away (God forbid)?

I’m sure nothing will go wrong but note to self. Think before opening mouth. Some hope.

On Saturday we were walking down the High Street and passed the barber’s shop. The shop next door to him has been empty for a while and now looks as if someone’s about to set up a new establishment.

“It could be the barber’s wife,” said Himself. “She does toenails and that sort of thing.”

When I’d finished hiccuping from laughter, I said, “toenails? You mean manicurist?’

He grunted and strode forth. “Manicurist?” he said. “You expect me to be able to say that at this time of the morning? Toenails is bad enough.”

I was laughing so much by this time I could hardly breathe, but managed to say, “I don’t think you’d get many customers if you advertised as Doing Toenails.”

“Don’t see why not,” he said, undeterred. “Manicurist sounds a bit bloody snooty.”

So there you go. Remind me never to ask my husband to become my publicist.

Cornets and Frivolity

Today The Other cornet arrives.

Yes, he bought it at nine twenty on Wednesday evening. I returned from rehearsals for Pajama Game to find a flushed and highly emotive husband crouched over a hot laptop, a glass of wine by his side (by no means the first).

‘Look, Pop!’ he said, and proceeded to tell me, in great detail, the ins and outs of this particular purchase. I’m afraid my interest lagged a little, as he’d told me most of it several times that day.

But at least yesterday I managed to sell the cornet that wouldn’t sell on ebay. Oh, the power of forums. (What’s the plural of forum? Forae? It doesn’t sound quite right.) Anyway, I advertised this cornet that no one wanted and blow me down, a couple from Porthleven came at lunchtime and bought it for their grandson. As he’s five I felt this was a bit optimistic, but never mind. It needed to go.

So when this new one arrives Himself will have a mere three cornets rather than four, which is an improvement of a kind I suppose.

Unfortunately one of the lenses fell out of his only pair of distance glasses yesterday so most of the profits have been spent on buying two pairs of glasses. He rather foolishly let slip that the optician had told him he should be wearing glasses all the time, so I insisted that he had a spare pair. So two pairs (with OAP discount) was £50, we both put £20 in the Frivolity Box and – er – the rest will go on housekeeping.

No comment.

I should explain about the Frivolity Box. This is a heart shaped tin that once held something smelly I was given for Christmas. A few years ago, my dear Sister In Law came to stay, and left some money for us to go out to lunch after she’d gone. Rather than put it in the housekeeping, where it would be swallowed up on toilet paper and soap, we put it aside and saved it for when we felt like a treat.

So now we try and have something in the tin for if we want a takeaway or go out for a meal. The tin’s got down to about three quid which doesn’t allow a lot of frivolous behaviour, so now it’s bulging with nearly fifty quid which means we can do something for my birthday.

In the meantime, Himself said cheerfully, “Well, I can’t buy any more cornets, Pop. I’ve run out of money.”

Since when has that ever stopped him?

Valentine's Day

many thanks to AOJ who nominated me for this award. It is highly suitable for Valentine's Day and I therefore donate it to anyone of my regular bloggers - I wouldn't read yours if I didn't enjoy them!

And on the note of Valentine's Day - I got a card, a bunch of pinks and two packets of bulbs - freesias and Dicentra, which is something that I've never heard of before.

It has lots of very beautiful heart shaped red flowers encircled with white (or it does on the packet) rather like a Japanese type of flower. Or how I imagine a Japanese flower would look like. Delicate and numerous.

By the time I plant it and it comes up, I will long have forgotten its name. You can tell my sort of gardening - I love my tubs but I tend to get things, bulbs or whatever, and stick them in, forget about them and celebrate when they come up. It's such a lovely surprise.

But back to the presents. We never usually "do" Valentine's Day so I'm afraid my dearest has caught me on the hop. I got him a card - of a close up of a dog that looks a little like the other woman in his life, but with a bow round its neck. Very cute.

I pondered over a present. Usually I get him things and he gets embarrassed because he hasn't got me anything (due to finances: he's the most generous person in the world). So I was going to get him a pair of trousers in the sale and then I thought no. He'll only huff and puff. So I went into Marks and they had heart shaped packets of chocolates - which neither of us eat. They give him mouth ulcers and make me hyperactive.

Chocolate out.

Fizzy wine? No, both of us loathe champagne or anything fizzy.

I went into the men's department and they had wallets - he has one. A bow tie. Excuse me - this is the man who doesn't even possess a suit... Aftershave? He never wears it.

So I walked home past the health food shop and suddenly I thought, I know! And I ran inside and there I found exactly what I know he will love.

A packet of dried bananas.

You may mock but he started eating them at 2 minutes to 7 this morning.

As I put the packet on one side, I looked over at the Dicentra packet and noticed its English name. Bleeding Heart.

Think he's trying to tell me something?

Awards and Buster II

I’m very chuffed to be awarded this from both Laurie and the Rotten Correspondent. Many thanks to you both. I won’t nominate others, but you know you deserve it – please take it and display it proudly!

On Sunday morning we walked Mollie down at Steamer Quay, by the river in Totnes.
The tide was up the highest we’ve ever seen it; nearly bursting its banks, and up and down the river the Dart rowing team were out practising in their skiffs. Tiny female coxes roared instructions at the eight men puffing and blowing as they pulled their oars in and out of the water with varying amounts of skill.

We met a lady with three dogs of indeterminate origin, one called Buster. A collie cross with milky blue eyes – he had trouble seeing.

We stopped and chatted, as you do with other dog lovers, and she told us that she was fostering Buster.

“His owners couldn’t cope and wanted him put down,” she said.

I caught my breath, horrified that someone could think of doing such a thing and she saw my anguish, nodded in agreement.

“Someone took him to the Animals in Distress rescue home in Ipplepen and I said I’d foster him.” She pointed to Buster trying to chase Mollie, unsuccessfully. “He enjoys life - apart from his awful arthritis,” she said. “It was so bad when he was in kennels that they had to lift him up each morning. But now he’s with me I’ve got the heating on at night and he’s much better.” She groaned. “I dread to think what my heating bill will be like!”

We stayed and chatted for a while longer before walking on, and she took her brood off in the opposite direction.

I won’t forget her – thank God there are people like her around.

Oh no, not another....

In haste as I am having a quick breather before meeting a deadline. (Yes, RT, I will meet it!)

I caught Himself pounding away on the laptop at seven this morning. This can only mean one thing…yes, you’ve got it.

‘You’re not looking at another cornet, are you?’ I said in tones that would have daunted a lesser male.

Nervous giggle. ‘Well, Pop I couldn’t turn it down. It’s only thirty five quid including postage.’

‘I thought you said you weren’t getting another cornet.’

He frowned and sipped his now cold tea. ‘Well, no, Pop but this one’s different.’ He tried another tack; anything to melt his wife’s cold heart. ‘It’s like a stray dog, darling. I couldn’t say no.’

'We'll have to move house,' I said. 'We haven't got any room for any more cornets.' I despaired and went off to make toast. He came scurrying down the hall like the forementioned stray. ‘I won’t buy any more, Pop. Promise.’

‘You said that before.’ Mountains wouldn’t move me.

‘I could cancel my Paypal account,’ he added in desperation. ‘That’d stymie me.’

But somehow I don’t know that it would.