Update.

Jul. 2nd, 2016 04:20 pm
johnny9fingers: (Sri Yantra)
Just about to gig at a party outside Winchester. Get in is 5pm. Sound check is as soon afterwards as poss. I should be back at the hotel by 1am and then sleep. In the morning I have to rush back home for my daughter's third birthday.
And my ears are giving me problems. :(
Never mind. Just more rubbish to deal with, I suppose.

Henry

Mar. 23rd, 2013 07:46 pm
johnny9fingers: (Sri Yantra)
The lad is recovering from chicken pox. He has been somewhat more demanding than usual. H's nanny was in NY for Paddy's Day, and returned on Wednesday. So I had two whole days of an under the weather toddler by myself, and amazingly, I coped. Had to slather H in calamine lotion from chin to toe on a daily basis on top of his normal routine. Also, he couldn't go out to run about at his usual play groups, so was deprived of company and even more cranky.

Over the previous weekend, SWMBO's parents and I cleared the back garden to ready it for the new garden shed. We moved a rockery, a gazebo, and a ton and a half of mud, and put it all in a skip. Temporarily trashed my hands in the process, and was weary of limb and back after such exertion.

Feeling slightly merit-worthy, but not so much as to incite hubris, I hope.

Update…

Feb. 12th, 2013 01:55 pm
johnny9fingers: (Sri Yantra)
So...

…I haven't smoked anything since the 2nd of January. Nor have I chewed much furniture, which is another win of sorts.

I dream of smoking, and not just jazz cigarettes. Every time someone on the telly takes a drag of a fag, some light goes on in the old noggin, and I reach for my roll-ups, which are no longer to hand.

Still, if I want to reach eighty, I have to make some sacrifices. And given that the second Ninefingers offspring is due this July, and I'm fifty-one now, I suppose that I really have to make an effort.

As a consequence of the impending appearance of aforesaid offspring, I have been given notice on my office: which will become the new nursery. I am to be exiled to a shed in the garden. It will be a posh shed…but still. The one we're looking at is made by a company in Ripon, Yorkshire, called OECO.

http://www.oecogardenrooms.co.uk/garden-offices.html

We're considering a 4m x 5m "Cube" garden office, with extra soundproofing and a few extra windows. I shall move most of my library into it, as well as my musical kit, and all of our office stuff. This will free up a lot of space in the house, which will make SWMBO happy.
johnny9fingers: (Default)
Am picking up SWMBO and driving up to the Kid Bro's in two hours time. Leaving for home early Sunday morning as we have to look at our prospective house again before putting in a bid.

Go well etc...
johnny9fingers: (Default)
Today SWMBO and I cook for my godfathers at Geoffrey's place. We did the prep this morning and now she has gone off shopping with a chum. I shall pick her up from Wimbledon Station at 5.30 and then we'll drive up the hill to the other side and G's.

Geoffrey is increasingly weak and can talk in but a whisper. John is very deaf. Sometimes you have to become an interpreter in conversations. Uncle John is still the acute Wykehamist, just he misses the odd word in three if not enunciated properly. They'll both be 80 this year.

Sea bass, salsa verde, and mushroom potatoes a la Jamie Oliver. A brace of Chablis. Raspberries and vanilla ice cream with shaved chocolate and crushed coffee beans for pudding. A half-bottle of Sauternes. As an aside G has a tiny galley kitchen in his apartment, which is why we've done our prep beforehand. I know he could afford to move but he just doesn't want to. Since he sold his country pile he's just owned the Putney flat and used his money in other ways: good for him too.

Hope it suits their taste. We shall do them the honour of dressing, even if not in a Tux and LBD. Madame will wear a frock, and I'll be in white with pale shoes. Ergo: remember to pack the pinafores, else salsa verde splash may become an inadvertent look.
johnny9fingers: (Default)
Yet another hugely busy weekend.

Next weekend looks even busier as SWMBO and I have to take care of  her Nephew and Niece as her Bro and Sister-in-law absent themselves for their Ten Year Anniversary celebration.

I shall try to be less grumpy than usual. So I'll have to work whatever curmudgeonliness out of my system by then.
johnny9fingers: (Default)
So the Bro and his Mrs are stuck in Andalusia. My Parents-in-law are trapped on Minorca. No flights back to the UK for another day. I have to man the phones here as, between the Mother and I, we have to try to sort out various stuff that has to happen for all concerned.

The EasyJet site isn't very helpful. (Strange, that.)

There is some talk of a Dunkirk style rescue for the poor Brits trapped abroad, but I'll believe it when I see it. Anyway, we hope to have our chaps back home by then. Fingers crossed. It'll be all over by Christmas.

Good ol' Mother Nature still knows how to brew up a storm, and as a society or species we never plan for this sort of thing. Collectively it seems we have the survival instincts of the proverbial lemming, which differs from the real one in as much as it doesn't need driving over cliff edges, and is perfectly content to hurl itself into the void.
johnny9fingers: (window)
Dad's failing. Morphine through a constant injection beneath the skin on the belly. Mike & Alexis have left for Oop North. Everyone a bit frayed. Poor dear woke up for a moment, saw everyone around him (just one of those happy co-incidences) smiled in recognition, then drifted back off to sleep. In Xanadu did Kublai Khan...sweet pipe dreams my dear...probably the best way to go, all things considered: and wash up on the far side of the Lethe in some other place, still drinking the milk of paradise.
Doc says he could hang on like this for days - I say as long as he's not having too much pain. I think the stuff he's on would put even me into orbit; I just hope it's enough.
He still snores like a good'un though, which is a familiar comfort, much changed from the source of irritation the last time I shared a hotel room with him for a funeral in Dublin in '98.
He's not conscious any more.
He is the best man I've ever met, and he's had a good innings, and he fought in WWII, and he brought up two boys that rarely acknowledged the sacrifices he made for us, and all he wants to be remembered as, is as a man who tried to do his Christian duty, which is more than any vainglorious, trumpeting, self-serving, self-publicising, television evangelists have ever managed.
Morning's a new day.
johnny9fingers: (window)
Dad's going down fast.
He had a catheter fitted (inserted?) early this morning.
Renal problems, Hepatic problems. Increasing dose of Morphine Sulphate. Poor man's unconscious most of the time. Mike and Alexis have been totally solid. Mum has done her duty and more (far more). I'm the only one wanting in any way, having gone down with this at just the wrong time.
It's about waiting and holding hands.
Alexis has been great, though obviously she's felt somewhat apart from all of this. Told mum to contact Mike's ex (who has been v close to Dad over the years). Top Girl. Generosity of behaviour always leaves one feeling touched by grace. Difficult time for her, and one she's rising to meet with spirit.
The next few days will probably give us the answers.
johnny9fingers: (window)
Mike and Alexis are down. It shifts the burden and is always so welcome.
M very depressed at Dad's condition, but it's not as if any of us has a magic wand.
Swollen ankle-joints mean I can barely walk, and this despite anti-inflamatory drugs from my Doc. Wrists seem to have got slightly better. But told not to put any pressure or strain on them, so no practice. Buggering flu.

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