Mobility looms....or does it?

I had hoped to be writing this with a working van sitting outside but sadly no. Another week of relying on others for lifts - and how fortunate I am to have such good mates. A big thanks to one and all who have ferried me around. I am most grateful.

But hopefully - and I'm not going into details, it's too boring - the van should be ready on Friday. I say should because I don't take anything for granted these days.

Yesterday we had a wonderful day of pure sunshine. It was so lovely to go down to Cot Valley - near St Just - and spend the afternoon walking without a coat I was so warm. The tide was out and it looked almost summery with little wavelets lapping gently at the smooth expanse of sand, the barest brush of a breeze, and feel warmth on our faces. Actually we got lost and went too far - and this was following some directions I'd written ten years ago, which says very little for my instructions. So just as well we are doing it again. In fact by the time we retraced our steps to where we should have diverted, we'd walked for nearly two hours and I was concerned about Moll who had walked more than her quota. But as Fiona said, it's a good excuse to go back.

Today, by contrast, has been like the end of the world. But I was taken by a friend to Helston to CAST, an amazing space of studios, performance rooms and all sorts and the most fantastic cafe with woodturner and stunning views over Helston. There I met the artist Lisa Wright for a fascinating talk and look around her studio. Do look at her work - she is exceptional - and will feature in my next walks book!

On that note I will leave you. Moll and I got soaked several times this afternoon and I must eat and go off to French. The last this year, what a thought. And as I doubt I will write another blog this year, may I wish you all a good break. And hope the new year brings us all some peace, happiness, good health and good weather.

Van Gate

This was taken at the natural sea pool at Bude - at the beginning of last week - though it seems like months ago now.

I had expected to just get on with life once I got home as normal but the van has been jinxed. For some reason unknown to the countless people who have looked at my van, and the three other Breakdown people who have towed it away this last week, it keeps refusing to start in the mornings.

To say I am frustrated is putting it mildly. I am feeling as drained as the poor (new) battery appears to be. It seems strange that this dear van, which we bought about 15 years ago, has never once gone wrong and since our Bude trip can't seem to function. It's just been towed away again this morning and I'm awaiting verdict. Thank god for dear Paul who has driven over here more times than I care to think about to help with the van, and to everyone else who has and is offering me lifts.

Maybe one day this will all be over! It has put my Christmas plans into jeopardy as I don't dare drive anywhere on a bank holiday or day when garages will be shut, as Breakdown will only take you to a garage of your choice so if they're not open, then they won't take you. Hey ho. And the trains are due to be on strike, I gather.

Apart from that, I am working on some very interesting research which takes my mind off the van and will help pay some bills, and am looking at the first 4 chapters of my novel that I submitted while I await the final verdict from my mentor.

Christmas parties are looming this week - we had a great one for our French conversation groups last night in the pub where we all took and shared food - our singing party on Thursday and Book Group on Friday. So I am not wanting for festive spirit.

Life sometimes just throws stuff at you, doesn't it? I was talking to a dear relative yesterday whose son has just died from Motor Neurone Disease. Such a cruel illness. She said she knew she could talk to me as I'd lost someone I loved very much, and how she sometimes has to just try and get through that day. "I found sometimes it was an hour, or a half hour," I said.

But we do get through it, and I think the important thing is to remember that the really difficult times do pass. Grief becomes less raw, or we just get used to living alongside it. They are hell at the time, but eventually we look back and think, Thank God that's over, and there are - we hope - better times ahead.

All is Well in My World (or What world are YOU in?)

Well, I was so excited to be going away - and we had a good journey up to Bude, stopping in Wadebridge which is half way for some food and a quick shunt round the charity shops. Got to Summerleaze beach (Bude) for coffee and a lovely walk along the beach and up over the coastal footpath a bit then headed back to the van as it was getting dark.

Leaving the beach, the battery light came on. Now, what I know about vans can be written on the back of a stamp but even I know the red lights on dashboard aren’t good. Still, we got to the caravan park and I was so tired I thought, well, I’ll worry about it in the morning. Or rather, overnight. So by morning I rang around all the local garages (thank god for the internet) and eventually found one who said they couldn’t fix it that day but bring it in and they’d try and do it Monday.

To cut a very long - and ongoing - story short, we were told it needed a new alternator, go back and don’t drive at all over the weekend, bring it in Monday morning.

In fact it was really restful having two days of no driving and it didn’t rain!! We explored Kilkhampton on foot - I’d walked there a few years ago so knew it a bit - and they had a shop there so we could buy food, even had a coffee and walked the dogs there. The pub the London Inn was fantastic - so friendly, and dogs welcomed there too.

Van wouldn’t start Monday so had to get breakdown out and it took 8 hours to get the van fixed, as the wrong alternator was sent. As the garage is on an industrial estate several miles out of Bude, we walked round there, and became experts in Cafes on Industrial Estates in the area. The Crib Shack was brilliant.

But as time went on, and we had two dogs needing distraction, we got a taxi into Bude, walked along the beach there. Another coffee. Had to spend another 3 hours waiting for van to be ready. Taxi back to pick it up.

Got home and collapsed, enjoyed our last evening. Then, having packed up the van the next morning, glorious day, had our journey home all planned - the van wouldn’t start. Garage came out, said new battery. Back to garage, fixed new battery. Another visit to the Crib Shack.

Drove home via Wadebridge, and dear Jac treated me to coffee and we shared a cake. She was choking with laughter, looking at the second hand books, and showed me a marvellous coaster that said, “All is Well in My World.” On the back, further words of wisdom - “Everything is working out for my highest good. Out of this situation only good will come. I am safe”
We sat and cried with laughter reading that…

And on we went home, all well until we got to Carnon Downs - and the red battery light came on. It was all I could do not to cry. But I dropped Jac off, got home - and there was a parking space outside my house.

Rang my dear mate Paul who said to ring Breakdown (the 5th call to them) to see what the problem was, and he would come over today and have a look. Apparently it’s a coupling (that’s a part, not a relationship) and might take a while to get said part but he will get it asap. He, along with another friend who’s mechanically minded, and the breakdown guy, all said they don’t think I needed a new alternator. Thus saving £300. Paul is on the case, bless him…

I’m so unnerved by the episode - to say nothing of the £450 and costs rising - that I’m happy not to drive for a few days. But what this has taught me is the power of friends.

You know that wonderful saying, “Before you self diagnose depression, make sure you are not, in fact, surrounded by arseholes?” How true!

These past few days have made me realise that if I’d been with the wrong person, this holiday could have been a disaster. As it was, we had a great time exploring on foot. We got helpless giggles. The caravan was centrally heated, large enough to sleep six, comfy beds and plenty of room, and lovely and quiet, being December, surrounded by green fields and a nearby village. The dogs loved it, and I would happily go back there like a shot.

So while I could have done without the ongoing van hassle, I know I’ve got amazing mates in Jac and Daisy, Paul and Viv and everyone else who has supported me through this palaver. And of course dear Paul who is at this moment fighting my corner with the garage.

And best of all, I got back to a really encouraging email about my novel. So maybe All Is Well In My World. Well, a bit of it anyway.

Life Adjustments

As this is a rather dead time of year in terms of flowers, I found these -a bunch of anemones in the summer. Roll on longer days....

Despite the recent upheavals, I’ve nearly finished rewriting the first three chapters of my novel and can send them off at the end of the week for further comments. I’ve found this really difficult to do, though once I got into the swing of it, it was better. Like anything I suppose. I'm not overly confident about what I've written, but I'm aiming to send it off to my mentor who I hope will be able to point me in the right direction.

I’m aiming to finish the rough draft by Friday morning when, crossing fingers and toes and barring any further disasters, I am hoping to go away for four whole days to a caravan park near Bude. I know, a couple of weeks in Greece or Spain would have been preferable, but that didn’t happen this year, so Bude it is.

And frankly, I am just desperate for a break. The weather forecast isn’t brilliant, at least for the first two days, and keeping two dogs clean and dry in a caravan could be a challenge, but it will be good to get away and explore a bit. I’ve looked up the nearest vet in case Moll is poorly and am packing Scrabble, books and cards plus we will take wine and grub and DVDs and aim to just go and relax.

When I first started working for myself, I got very stressed and run down and a friend said, "Just because you're working for yourself doesn't mean you don't need holidays. You should aim to get away every three months."

Wise advice which I didn't heed this year - though admittedly that wasn't entirely my fault, being let down twice. But next year I am going to plan holidays better. I’ve got my writing trip in Spain in February which I am looking forward to - though that will be a lot of hard work. And hope for another French trip, and also some trips with my Moll. If the weather improves later on in the year I will take the van and go camping with some friends down the road who also have a little campervan. So that’s a rough plan. I live in distrust of making Big Plans as life has a habit of turning them inside out and back to front. So loose plans are best, I find.

My dear upstairs neighbour is - again fingers crossed - going in to have his hip operated on tomorrow. It’s already been postponed once which caused a lot of stress and grief, so I really hope it all goes ahead tomorrow. We’ve been trying to organise him being taken there and picked up - I was going to do the latter but I will be in Bude. So far we’ve got the drop off organised and are working on the pick up and aim to make his recovery as smooth as possible, bless him.

And lastly - courtesy of a very kind friend, Moll is now in receipt of not just one but two ramps which should mean she doesn’t have to jump into the van, or up the steps. She’s taken to the van one like a duck to water (somewhat apt in this weather), though the steps one is a bit slippery so may need some adjustments.

But life’s all about adjustments, isn’t it?

Troubles come in Threes....

Picture taken on Dodman Point - as I love the reflection on a day very like today.

Over the past month I have had more than my usual share of Big Stuff to deal with. And you know what they say about trouble coming in threes? I have been thinking - nervously - uh oh - what’s the third one?

And here it is - Moll has been diagnosed with arthritis. Sorry for all of you who aren't dog lovers, but it's just a bit Canine-centric at the moment.

Recently she’s been having trouble jumping up onto the bed or sofa, and looking at me with her head on one side as if to say, Help, Mum! Arthritis is very common in older dogs, I know, but it is degenerative and I hate to think of the poor little thing in pain, so she is now on anti-inflammatories as well as supplements which contain green lipped mussels, glucosamine, Manganese as well as vitamins C and E. So I'm trying to hit it from both the medical and alternative route.

So my kitchen once again looks like a chemist, with pills for her heart, pills for her joints and medicine for her aches and pains, bless her. She is so very dear to me and I just want to provide the best possible life for her as she gets older.

Massage is good for all dogs, and I was looking at various techniques on YouTube yesterday, some of which made me laugh for the first time in a while. The comments were even funnier. Madam likes a massage when she’s standing up but don’t try it when she’s lying down.... And you thought human beings were complex?

I was also sent a link to a brilliant website all about managing Canine Arthritis which advised making changes around the house to make things easier for her. This includes steps up onto the bed - well, in the garage I found a large rubber step that looked as if it was used for decorating. So that’s now by the bed and by dint of tempting her with treats, she’s getting the hang of using that instead of just jumping up onto the bed. Trouble is, when it’s dark, I keep bashing my shins on it….

Next is a ramp into the van. Some of you who don’t know Moll may wonder why I don’t just pick her up. To say she doesn’t like being picked up is an understatement. Her swearing is quite impressive, and having worked in an Antipodean newsroom, I am no stranger to a wide vocabulary of swearing. So I found a large piece of wood, again in the garage, that Joe sawed down for me so I have yet to try that in getting her into the van. This could be a lot trickier to persuade her to use.

Also I now realise that her bed in the van is too high so I’ll have to ask someone to saw the legs down for me.

And lastly there is the problem of the flight of steps leading up to my front door. They are granite and quite steep. If anyone has any ideas on how to get round this one - or anything else that would make her life easier, I would be SO grateful.

November is not my favourite time of the month - well, and with this weather, who does like it? But this one does seem particularly grey and lacking in cheer. The other day I was telling my Belgian friend about the film Shirley Valentine, of which she hadn’t heard.

I am now sitting here with my SAD lamp on wishing I was on a Greek island. Actually, any holiday would do, but being warm would be a bonus. With Moll and a sexy hunk on either side of me. We can but hope.

I am writing this from a snuffly keyboard at Frobisher. Moll is, I am glad to say, fully recovered though I am terrified in case the fever should descend again. (I was petrified last weekend, kept checking her breathing.) If it does, it means more tests which are very stressful for us both and, of course, incredibly expensive. And I would dread the outcome. Still, there's little to be gained in worrying about that, and Moll certainly isn't. She is bouncy again and that is wonderful to see so I hope to enjoy much more of that for as long as we can.

I also wondered why Pip fell in love with her, so suddenly, when he saw her, 14 years ago. An artist friend, enquiring about Moll last week, gave me a clue. "You're just the same," she said. "You've both got sort of the same hair, the same temperament, you're both sensitive, highly strung, very loyal and bright. The way you react to things is the same - you even have the same metabolism." (We both shake when hungry.)

I had to laugh when she said that - and thought, well now I know why Pip fell for her. He was getting another version of me but with four legs. Quadruple trouble...

And I will end this Tribute to Moll with a big thank you to the incredibly kind friends who have made the past week or so a bit easier. To the free osteopath session I received last week "because you're having such a rough time". To the wonderfully generous money towards my (considerable) vet bills. That in itself was amazing - but the friend who insisted I have the money has a very very poorly dog herself.

I don't know what I've done to deserve such generosity, but all I can say is a huge thank you. And to all my friends, near and far, you know where I am. Call me when you need me. And actually, don't wait till you need me. Call me anyway.

And as a PS - I'm on Radio Cornwall at 4.10pm this afternoon talking about my latest book, Walks in the Footsteps of Rosamunde Pilcher. Tune in for a giggle!

The Fighter

Nine years ago, almost to the day, I had to call an ambulance (against Pip's wishes) because he had been ill and in bed (unheard of) and despite countless home visits from GPs, he had become even more ill and I was terrified.

Last Sunday, at 2.30 am I woke to Moll panting and shaking uncontrollably. She sometimes does this if she's heard fireworks or seen a kite or something that frightens her, but that wasn't likely in the middle of the night, so I was worried. Rang the out of hours vet who suggested giving her some Metacam and that seemed to do the trick. Eventually we settled down again, but I didn't sleep and when we finally got up, she had lost all her energy, was shaking and panting again.

To cut a very long story short, I had to take her to the out of hours vet (over an hour's round trip in horrendous rain and wind, flooded lanes and fallen trees) where they did blood tests, gave her antibiotic shot. The second time - dear Viv drove me as I was exhausted - Moll's fever had risen again so she had an opiate painkiller which made her hallucinate. She was up and down all night, couldn't settle poor thing. She is normally a very secure dog - she doesn't cling to me but just enjoys our company together. Now she couldn't let me out of her sight, was pleading me with those cataract fogged eyes - "What's going on? Please stop it!" It was heartbreaking, and I felt so powerless - to say nothing of terrified.

Back to my own vet on Monday - twice. The first trip, her temperature was down and she seemed better, but they had no idea what was causing this fever. "It could be cancer or it could be endocarditis," said my vet. Endocarditis was what took Pip into hospital nine years ago. I had a horrifying feeling that history was repeating itself and I was about to pitch back into that nightmare.

Moll flagged as soon as we got home from the vet in the morning. Her temperature soared Monday evening. Back to vets. Advised try and keep her calm and quiet. If necessary take her to out of hours vet maybe midnight if she wasn't better but this would stress her out even more (to say nothing of what it was doing to me). Dear Viv offered to drive me. At midnight! I found out that the only time Moll relaxed was if I was in bed, so we went to bed early, she just about managed to jump onto the duvet - after five attempts - and finally she went to sleep.

The vet wanted to run tests to see what was going on but the specialist couldn't be contacted on Tuesday. Still, we had to go back for another temperature test. Like most dogs, Moll is terrified of vets and having a thermometer stuck up her bum every time we visited hasn't helped. Doesn't help her temperature either, but they take that into account.

I was also asked to get a wee sample (to eliminate a possible urine infection) which meant stalking her with a yellow mini funnel stuck into the top of a plastic tube. The idea is that you shove it under their bum while they're having a wee, then it trickles into the tube. I looked like a Victorian butterfly hunter, hovering behind her with this yellow monstrosity and Moll was extremely suspicious. She kept looking round as if to say, "What the hell are you doing NOW? Is that another needle or WHAT?"

Finally, last night at the vet, her temperature was nearly normal. Her breathing is still too fast but she had two short walks and is eating again. Yes, for those of of us who know Moll well, she went off her food. This has NEVER happened. But she's back eating now and although she's not out of the woods yet, she is getting there. I hope. The wee sample was clear so they're not going to run tests as it's too stressful all round. When the vet said her temperature was lowered I was so relieved I wanted to buy everyone dinner, a holiday, a drink - anything. Despite the fact that this episode has cost me dear.

And having been dreading Bonfire Night and all the fireworks, which would make Moll's temperature rocket again, it was reasonably quiet. Phew. (Which just goes to show that the things we worry about rarely happen. It's the unknown that knocks us for six.)

The best thing to come out of this horrendous episode is that I realised what incredible friends I have. Four of my closest friends came round and texted all the time to see how she was, how I was managing. I cried a lot. My stomach has been in knots so it's been a struggle to eat. My right shoulder (my stress indicator) is around my right ear, despite lots of yoga exercises. I check her constantly, to see how her breathing is. Is she shaking? How does she look? The fear still circulates in my blood stream, lies in a rancid pool in my belly, but it's receding.

So for now, she seems to be on the mend. Fingers crossed. And it is wonderful beyond measure to have my girl back. I really thought I was losing her.