A Year In Recovery

What do you do when the number of people in your household not dealing with a debilitating chronic illness drops to zero? If you’re anything like me, the answer is Read A Book. The book in this case was The Fatigue Book by Lydia Rolley, who not only worked for many years in an NHS fatigue clinic, but had previously recovered from CFS herself, i.e. She Knows What She’s Talking About.

We decided to launch a Recovery Plan based on her advice. The key principles are simple – flatten out the rollercoaster of energy highs and lows by setting a baseline of activity which you can do on good days and bad without wearing yourself out. Not unlike Goldilocks, you’re looking for not too much and not too little. As your energy improves, you can gradually increase the baseline.

A sheet of paper on a wooden surface has uncial lettering in brown ink which reads "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. G."

But first we had to have our house mostly replumbed and rewired. (Long story; take my advice and be highly suspicious of any hissing noises in or near your walls.) In mid-May last year, we were finally able to begin resting. Which was absolute bliss, as long as you didn’t look too closely – or in some cases at all – at all the things which had to be set aside until baselines improved. (Set aside in the metaphorical sense. One cannot, alas, actually set aside an unvacuumed carpet, nor a thickly dustcoated windowsill.)

Continue & Comment

What Did You Do To That Egg?!

I well remember the first time I encountered a poached egg. I was perhaps 12 or 13 at the time, and visiting my grandmother. She asked if I’d like some bacon and eggs, to which I naturally replied that I would. Soon thereafter, she presented me with a plate containing bacon and a mysterious globby white thing.

A squarish white plate with chopped kale topped with a formless white glob sprinkled with seasoning.
Seasoned white glob OF MYSTERY on kale.

Being a shy and courteous child, I forbore to ask “where’s the egg?” but I must have made some sort of inquiry as to what “this” was, because she subsequently enlightened me: that was the egg. Due to a combination of the aforementioned courteousness and the formidable nature of my ex-military grandmother, I refrained from asking WHAT DID YOU DO TO IT?? but I certainly wondered. I also wondered why, when already frying bacon, one would not also fry the egg, but who knows – perhaps the bacon was grilled.

Continue & Comment

A Holiday Assortment

being a selection of crafts, games, incident and etymology which have enlivened the holiday season for me and may well perform the same service for you.

We don’t usually have a Christmas tree in this household. I don’t like plastic and I don’t much like felling trees either. We did try a living tree in a pot, but keeping it alive proved more than we were capable of. Thus the usual absence of tree. This year, however, as I was hanging out the washing on Christmas Eve, I accidentally broke a branch off the rosemary which grows beneath the washing line. So this year, we had a tree, albeit not a very large one.

A spiky green branch of rosemary in bud rises from a yellow plant pot on a white shelf. Around it are a small corked ceramic jar, a sheathed paperknife, and a small metal model of a camel.

It did manage to bloom at one point – you can see the buds in the photo above if you look carefully – but alas, it didn’t put down roots in the soil provided, and it did not long survive the Twelve Days of Christmas.

Continue & Comment