and new, good news and bad. Start with a bit of the good and new, eh? Well I’ve been out of hospital almost a week, now, and I’m recovering very well from the operation.
Oh, let me get the old bad news off my chest. We lost Grandpa in February. Last year, he had been in hospital, and out again, having decided to sell up and move into sheltered accommodation near us. I was busily working towards this objective when he had another crisis- a fall- and was rushed back in. Now his leg had been ulcerated for over 20yrs, and a scan showed the circulation in his right leg had shut down completely. Amputation was unavoidable. Later, the circulation in his (very short) stump failed too. Mercifully, he didn’t last long enough for the poisoning to start. They gave him his breakfast, one morning- “Thank you very much, my Dear” ( nurses were bowled over by his ‘lovely old gentleman’ routine) and when they went to collect the empties, he had quietly slipped his cable. At some point, cardiac arrest had caused some memory damage, and he was never fully aware of where he was. He seemed to regard this ‘hotel’ as a transit move towards Norfolk.
Harold George Darwent Carter, Coldstream Guards’ Regimental Hairdresser, latterly barber in ‘pure gents work’, went to his rest on Feb.14th, in his 87th year. We gave the old rogue his soldier’s farewell. St Andrew’s is a large church, and he drew a full house. We played him in to ‘Evening in Camp’ (you know it when you hear it) and out again to a jaunty march- ‘The Coldstreamer’- which he would have loved.
He had been trading in Starbeck since quitting the army in ’46, having signed up for the duration in ‘39. Like all barbers, he had the gift of holding several conversations at once, all entirely unentrammelled by facts, or logic. One cannot begin to imagine the number of cloth caps full of rapidly cooling, befuddled brains emerging from No.2 Prospect Road, thinking ‘By heck, he’s a clever man, is Mester Carter’. And for the ladies there were always the raised caps, and ’Hello, my Dear’s- even to the ‘phone operators. We found his old Guard’s dress cap, buried in a cupboard full of junk, and I didn’t begrudge him the whole day’s labour it took to render it fit enough to be placed on his coffin. But like all the others, he’s still with us- his jokes and homilies go back and forth with the same regularity, the same fond smiles and cautions
ow to my hospital jaunt- Arthritis has been hacking away at my left shoulder for years, and I’ve always been lead to believe that they couldn’t get spares for these 1941 models. Well now they can. I’ve just had a replacement shoulder joint (big job- over 3hrs in surgery instead of the usual 1½) and its progressing nicely. At 6wks to full recovery, that takes me to Jan 1st.
Valerie is having to cope with a Blue Peter job of a flat-pack self-assembly exhibition which I prepared earlier (stop press- exhibition a success) she will also have to bear the brunt of the Christmas preparations, though mercifully, this Christmas will be comparatively light weight. Just Miriam, though Simon is doing nicely- feet well under the table, but the dutiful son will be with his parents; more fading grandparents to nurture, in that direction, I fear. John will make his usual brief appearance, now in his final year at university- ‘I’m happy!’- which means all is going well with him. Plus brief visits from three friends, then we hope to visit Nathan and his parents over New Year.
n a way it’s fortunate that Valerie is not on full time. When Grandpa died, she took compassionate leave, which her doctor extended to sick leave due to stress. My theory is that the stress started much earlier, at school, and that losing Grandpa just tipped the scales. That’s my theory anyway; I don’t know if anyone would agree? (one of Grandpa’s little gems, there) but the current situation is that Valerie will gradually be phased back into full time, when varicose doctors and assessors deem her fit. Until then, she is working half time, with reduced responsibilities, on a voluntary basis. Her pay is curtailed, and won’t be restored until the official phasing in is complete, so they are lucky she is volunteering half time. It’s taken them a long time to kill her enthusiasm, but they’ve finally done it.
ot to worry; another three years apiece and we’ll retire and go messing about in our boat. I didn’t tell you, but last year we bought a boat- 24ft GRP cruiser, 4 births plus 2, 60hp inboard/outboard engine. Technically sea-going, but we’ll stick to the broads. We hadn’t intended this until after retirement, but it was an offer we couldn’t refuse. We got out on it a few weekends, last year and this, and it is so relaxing.
s that all the news? Think so. So here it is, Merry Christmas…and so this is Christmas…The bells of waiting Advent ring…God rest ye merry Gentlemen…Christians awake!...In the deep Midwinter…While shepherds watched…we three Kings…What child is this?...In dulce Jubilo…Aklujah!...
Merry Christmas, Everyone.