Well, the tree surgery wasn't a problem.
(Not me doing, it, of course.)
A couple of minutes of conversation and not only is the overhanging tree well pruned back, the nice people even took way the dead wood from my own trimming efforts of about eighteen months ago.
(No, I was not climbing ladders even than: I have a pole lopper from the time I had a mad Californian lilac, in a previous garden, that didn't know when to stop.)
Getting a couple of trains running wasn't too much of a problem, either.
About three hours with proper rest (i.e fifteen minutes!)
Trouble was I blew it on the lying on the grass, listening to the relaxing clickety-clack of the wheels.
Yes, I got that far, and it was good. And I did five minutes of weeding at the appropriate time.
But then there were the weeds right next to the ones I had pulled when my five minutes was up. And the ones next to those that also needed culling...
At least I only went slightly mad.
I could also see where I need to work on the stream and the watermill lead; and on the camomile, trimming and transferring cuttings.
And on truing the track in three or four places, though it isn't disastrous.
It nearly all needs the ballast topping up, though, and I've got an untouched sack of chippings for that.
And that's even before I start to think of making *progress* with new station buildings...
...no, I've not yet completely acclimatised to my new limits of activity, where an afternoon's railway work now takes two or three months, assuming nothing of actual importance and priority turns up.
I've mostly acclimatised, and can usually plan on the correct scale and timetable, but just occasionally the difference really strikes home.
And now, due to the weeding binge, tomorrow must be a *quiet* day.
Perhaps I will be able to listen to the clickety-clack, and leave it at that.
Friday, 7 September 2012
Thursday, 6 September 2012
Visitors, a CFS marathon.
Two lots of visitors due tomorrow, so absolutely minimum necessary activity today, ensuring I am as fatigue free as possible.
Didn't wash, for instance. A wash and shave will be required tomorrow, of course. (1 hour.)
Breakfast, dress. (1 hour)
Early in the morning, a couple of people are coming to do some tree surgery: strictly my neighbour's tree, but parts of it are more accessible from my garden. Five minutes of admitting and conversation? (1 hour)
My, how the hours just fly by.
The bigger demand will come in the afternoon: a neighbour has asked if some visiting children can see some trains running in my garden, as they loved it so much last time.
A test loco did manage to get round the main-line this afternoon, so I should be able to have a couple running. With about fifteen minutes work. (3 hours)
And if they are not here too long, say ten minutes (2 hours)
and allow for lunch and supper, going up and down stairs two or three times, say (3 hours), and looking at this computer for ten minute's worth. (2 hours?)
If I keep track of that carefully, it may show if I can actually average five minutes in the hour without payback.
I have a suspicion, now, that I can't, and that I've got a bit worse.
But this shouldn't be a ridiculously over-the top test.
And since the nearest person I have to a guru, Mr Rowland Emett, when asked about the final product of his work, said it was "to put the smallest smile in the face of the beholder", I like to think the same, and it's worth putting some effort in that direction.
I mean, if I can't even make a few people smile occasionally, justifying why I continue to take up space gets more tricky.
And to avoid confusion, that thought comes half-seriously.
Didn't wash, for instance. A wash and shave will be required tomorrow, of course. (1 hour.)
Breakfast, dress. (1 hour)
Early in the morning, a couple of people are coming to do some tree surgery: strictly my neighbour's tree, but parts of it are more accessible from my garden. Five minutes of admitting and conversation? (1 hour)
My, how the hours just fly by.
The bigger demand will come in the afternoon: a neighbour has asked if some visiting children can see some trains running in my garden, as they loved it so much last time.
A test loco did manage to get round the main-line this afternoon, so I should be able to have a couple running. With about fifteen minutes work. (3 hours)
And if they are not here too long, say ten minutes (2 hours)
and allow for lunch and supper, going up and down stairs two or three times, say (3 hours), and looking at this computer for ten minute's worth. (2 hours?)
If I keep track of that carefully, it may show if I can actually average five minutes in the hour without payback.
I have a suspicion, now, that I can't, and that I've got a bit worse.
But this shouldn't be a ridiculously over-the top test.
And since the nearest person I have to a guru, Mr Rowland Emett, when asked about the final product of his work, said it was "to put the smallest smile in the face of the beholder", I like to think the same, and it's worth putting some effort in that direction.
I mean, if I can't even make a few people smile occasionally, justifying why I continue to take up space gets more tricky.
And to avoid confusion, that thought comes half-seriously.
Wednesday, 5 September 2012
Two steps back?
Very much a do-nothing day. Marked muscle ache just from doing too much yesterday means I did little but assume a horizontal position today.
No work on house, garden, trains... It was very little more, indeed, than letting my cleaner in. I was fast asleep when she left.
But yesterday was not full of physical activity. The main unexpected demand was handling a phone call from the BBC and thinking about what to say, and considering variations and options, and how to be brief.
(I hate phone-ins where people waffle or don't speak to the point.)
No, not physical activity, but mental: concentration, hard, conscious, focussed thought. And that's very tiring too, and comes under the "limited energy budget" limitations.
That's why reading is now very tiring: it's not principally an eyesight problem but an information-processing one.
I live with a thousand friends, but they now have a very limited ability to speak to me.
Emotional activity subtracts from the same tight budget too... getting excited, or getting angry, costs.
Raging against CFS only exacerbates it.
Bursts of enthusiasm can very much feel good: why should they not?
But they cost, they really cost.
It seems that a Buddhist-like calm is the way to go,
as long as it doesn't take too much effort or concentration to achieve it.
Did I mention Catch-22?
No work on house, garden, trains... It was very little more, indeed, than letting my cleaner in. I was fast asleep when she left.
But yesterday was not full of physical activity. The main unexpected demand was handling a phone call from the BBC and thinking about what to say, and considering variations and options, and how to be brief.
(I hate phone-ins where people waffle or don't speak to the point.)
No, not physical activity, but mental: concentration, hard, conscious, focussed thought. And that's very tiring too, and comes under the "limited energy budget" limitations.
That's why reading is now very tiring: it's not principally an eyesight problem but an information-processing one.
I live with a thousand friends, but they now have a very limited ability to speak to me.
Emotional activity subtracts from the same tight budget too... getting excited, or getting angry, costs.
Raging against CFS only exacerbates it.
Bursts of enthusiasm can very much feel good: why should they not?
But they cost, they really cost.
It seems that a Buddhist-like calm is the way to go,
as long as it doesn't take too much effort or concentration to achieve it.
Did I mention Catch-22?
Tuesday, 4 September 2012
Not according to plan...
So while I was, this morning, largely recovered from the modest excesses of Sunday (i.e., having visitors) the idea pencilled in for today did not survive contact with reality.
No garden, not trains.
Rather, an unexpected phone call from the BBC "You and Yours" about an e-mail I'd sent, and the possibility of my contributing to today's programme on Radio 4.
("Will the Paralympics challenge negative stereotypes around disability?")
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01mddl8
(I'm at 13.40)
We used the e-mail rather than putting me live, in the end.
But that was enough activity for one day.
Pretty much for the whole day, when added to Tuesday's regular two-hour (including rest) task of taking in and putting away the week's groceries.
Ah, well, the only "must" for tomorrow is being awake enough at the right time in order to let my cleaner in.
Hardly Paralympian heroism.
But then CFS doesn't really fit that paradigm.
Let's not get this wrong: the Paralympics coverage is positive and inspiring. It's just that lots of people operate with "soundbite" mental images and idea, and the Paralympics gives only a very partial image of life with disability.
The other images, and more complex ideas need to be communicated as well.
(I did my "event", and posted an e-mail that got to air.)
No garden, not trains.
Rather, an unexpected phone call from the BBC "You and Yours" about an e-mail I'd sent, and the possibility of my contributing to today's programme on Radio 4.
("Will the Paralympics challenge negative stereotypes around disability?")
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01mddl8
(I'm at 13.40)
We used the e-mail rather than putting me live, in the end.
But that was enough activity for one day.
Pretty much for the whole day, when added to Tuesday's regular two-hour (including rest) task of taking in and putting away the week's groceries.
Ah, well, the only "must" for tomorrow is being awake enough at the right time in order to let my cleaner in.
Hardly Paralympian heroism.
But then CFS doesn't really fit that paradigm.
Let's not get this wrong: the Paralympics coverage is positive and inspiring. It's just that lots of people operate with "soundbite" mental images and idea, and the Paralympics gives only a very partial image of life with disability.
The other images, and more complex ideas need to be communicated as well.
(I did my "event", and posted an e-mail that got to air.)
Monday, 3 September 2012
The correct use of "anticipate."
As I fully and correctly expected, I have had an extra lot of fatigue and muscle ache to deal with today, due to my (very pleasant)time with visitors yesterday.
Absolutely no way to anticipate that, though.
No real way to intercept it, head it off, prevent it occurring, which is what anticipation is about, not just "seeing it coming".
When you see it coming but cannot anticipate it, that can be tough.
"For what we are about to receive... " was allegedly the blasphemous grace of some Royal Navy officers of the Napoleonic era, when sailing in towards enemy broadsides.
"I'm going to have to pay for this" is the classic knowledge of the person with CFS, engaged in excessive or overenthusiastic activity, and what constitutes excess varies from individual to individual, and can be very little indeed.
So, today: no model railway fun, not even five minutes, no housework or fragments of DIY. I did five minutes of gardening as my gardener came to cut my grass. That was possible too much.
An awful lot of lying still, not quite asleep, with aching limbs.
I can't quite guess for tomorrow, but it's time to receive my week's groceries again, so that's two hours of the day accounted for, right there.
It's supposed to be decent weather for a few days, so I may try lying on the newly cut grass, and for five minutes in every hour, roll towards the nearest dandelion or weed and attack it.
Ideally with a train running happily round the track providing a relaxing sound.
This idea may not survive contact with reality.
Let's just leave it pencilled in.
Absolutely no way to anticipate that, though.
No real way to intercept it, head it off, prevent it occurring, which is what anticipation is about, not just "seeing it coming".
When you see it coming but cannot anticipate it, that can be tough.
"For what we are about to receive... " was allegedly the blasphemous grace of some Royal Navy officers of the Napoleonic era, when sailing in towards enemy broadsides.
"I'm going to have to pay for this" is the classic knowledge of the person with CFS, engaged in excessive or overenthusiastic activity, and what constitutes excess varies from individual to individual, and can be very little indeed.
So, today: no model railway fun, not even five minutes, no housework or fragments of DIY. I did five minutes of gardening as my gardener came to cut my grass. That was possible too much.
An awful lot of lying still, not quite asleep, with aching limbs.
I can't quite guess for tomorrow, but it's time to receive my week's groceries again, so that's two hours of the day accounted for, right there.
It's supposed to be decent weather for a few days, so I may try lying on the newly cut grass, and for five minutes in every hour, roll towards the nearest dandelion or weed and attack it.
Ideally with a train running happily round the track providing a relaxing sound.
This idea may not survive contact with reality.
Let's just leave it pencilled in.
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Plans, not even well-laid.
I had some unexpected visitors today, for half an hour or so
Ex-neighbours who moved north at the end of last year for better jobs.
If t was good to see them, but it's wrecked my activity/rest plan for today, and tomorrow:
I've got to find around 3-4 hours extra rest to balance things out.
And that's not just to make the schedule come out right on paper.
I'm feeling it. Forty minutes, low stress, with friends.
More than I can budget for, cope with, on any regularity or frequency.
I'll scribble a bit while resting tomorrow morning, juggling the "have to do" things, so it's not all boring necessities. A little bit of cliff and plasticine work, I think, somewhere.
(Subject to phone calls, visitors or meteor strikes)
My mood continues at least stable, edging towards positive.
I at least know what I'm trying to do or not do.
Yes, I could do with someone to give me hugs, or mop my fevered brow, but it's clear that company, never mind a girlfriend, would be liable to be a disaster.
I'd go straight into attempting reciprocal "doing", which is just not on in my current situation.
At least my parents understand that, as we've had the first tentative discussions about Christmas, and it being OK to leave me alone and for them (possibly) to go to New Zealand.
I go by my Bruce Bairnsfather. It's not a brilliant 'ole I'm in,
but in lieu of a better one being visible and accessible I've got nothing too much to whinge about.
I can think of much worse holes I might be in.
Saturday, 1 September 2012
Back on track.
Provisionally, anyway.
Or tentatively, which is not quite the same thing.
A day going to plan where 9% active and 91% resting worked, and allowed a few things to get done without excessive fatigue either preventing the 9% or showing up in the 91%.
It's not exactly working like a navvy, or sixteen to the dozen.
(A term originally applied to a steam engine considered to be working efficiently, rather than at frantic pace.)
A good wash and shower, and a little productive work on indoor railway projects:
three pieces of cliff cut to size and spray-painted.
One purple station-master's waistcoat fitted to Sylvanian bear.
One driver's cap shaped and fitted to smaller bear.
It's not exactly a blitzkrieg advance, more creeping by millimetres,
but I'll settle for that over the struggling to simply hold the line by getting through the day, as it has been lately without anything measurable being achieved apart from that.
"Well, we're still here."
Maybe a few more bits of cliff tomorrow. Yes, this is the trivial.
Take it as training exercises, perhaps. The bigger stuff comes later, an' all goes well. Going cautiously.
If the weather holds a few ferns and dandelions may die.
But no trumpets calling the charge, if you please.
Or tentatively, which is not quite the same thing.
A day going to plan where 9% active and 91% resting worked, and allowed a few things to get done without excessive fatigue either preventing the 9% or showing up in the 91%.
It's not exactly working like a navvy, or sixteen to the dozen.
(A term originally applied to a steam engine considered to be working efficiently, rather than at frantic pace.)
A good wash and shower, and a little productive work on indoor railway projects:
three pieces of cliff cut to size and spray-painted.
One purple station-master's waistcoat fitted to Sylvanian bear.
One driver's cap shaped and fitted to smaller bear.
It's not exactly a blitzkrieg advance, more creeping by millimetres,
but I'll settle for that over the struggling to simply hold the line by getting through the day, as it has been lately without anything measurable being achieved apart from that.
"Well, we're still here."
Maybe a few more bits of cliff tomorrow. Yes, this is the trivial.
Take it as training exercises, perhaps. The bigger stuff comes later, an' all goes well. Going cautiously.
If the weather holds a few ferns and dandelions may die.
But no trumpets calling the charge, if you please.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)