This post has taken me up to the present now and I have finally caught up. Before I go any further, I owe you all an apology. Sorry about the misery over Royal Mail...none of you deserved that. It was just me having a grump with them but I didn't need to heap it upon you all. There's to many good things going on for a start.
Our closest neighbours here invited us over to our local, "The Kings Head" on the 12th to take part in the weekly pub quiz. It was great fun and we met a good section of the population of the village at the same time. Lots of very nice people who have all made us feel welcome. I booked Linda and I into the New Years Eve do up there yesterday lunchtime but couldn't remember our phone number. One of the bar staff called across and said. "Don't worry, Liam's a local. We don't need his phone number because we know were he lives and can always pop across."
It was a brilliant feeling, as we now feel accepted.
I broke my glasses the other day and have had to make do with my old ones. As they couldn't be fixed and I can't read with them on anyway, I decided to make an appointment to see the optician to get my eyes tested. Hang the expense thought I...it has to be done.
When I went in he observed that he seen me reading my book yet holding my specs in my hand. I told him I was having a problem reading close up with them for some reason.
He then examined right into the eyes and asked me had I noticed a problem driving at night. "Yes says I; even Linda has noticed. I can't see when I get caught in the glare of approaching headlights. My eyes feel as if all I can see is a bright wash of light and nothing else. It can be scary sometimes."
He then asked was I constantly cleaning my glasses because of the blurring on them...as if they've got mucky. "Yes says I", in a surprised tone wondering how on earth he knew that. Then he really surprised me.
"You've confirmed what I thought. You've got cataracts."
I'm now booked in for an appointment to get referred for an op. Thankfully its nothing serious and they said the op is very easy to perform but flipping heck...I've kept out of hospital for over fifty years, yet in the last few years I seem to have had to go in at least once a year.
Linda says she's waiting for the loud crash when I completely fall to bits and have to be brought home in a bucket. She advised that I try not to cough in case my failing body can't stand the shock. Very nice I must say. I'm afraid to sneeze now in case something shoots off me face and lands in the garden.
She already thinks that more of me is left on the bedside locker at night than actually gets into bed.
Cruel gibes, but I can't deny the truth of them he he.
We had a brilliant day last Sunday and spent it mooching around St Ives. The weather again was glorious and we spent a good chunk of it sitting on the beach. We had a breakfast consisting of pasty and coffee on the beach before finding a sunny spot to sprawl.
It was very lazy and great fun. I did go off for a paddle in the water and was shamed by the small children jumping in and swimming about like seals. It's incredible just how warm it all was though.
We are now approaching the end of our first month down here...I lie...today is exactly a month since we moved down here. It has gone past very quickly but has been absolutely fantastic.
That we miss you all is obvious; but that we are happy here is also obvious.
Linda is settling in nicely in her job and is finding her feet at last. I have written up some competition entries and posted them off. At present I am like some sort of house husband but I am getting a fair bit of writing done. My book about the walk on the coast path is virtually complete; just the photo's to pick and a little more polishing and then I'm going to try and find a publisher.
My own day is one long round of housework and toil.
I am forced to get up with Linda at 0700 and make cup's of tea. I then get myself ready for the day before going downstairs and getting in her way until 0800 when she goes to work.
Then its the drudgery of the housework...bed made and a quick whizz around with the hoover. At 0815 I sit down at the computer and have a quick surf before dealing with the e mails. Then I get another coffee and start writing for five hours. Every hour I have to make another coffee, so it's a busy day.
At just after 1400, I multi task with a vengeance and prepare dinner while also eating a couple of sandwiches. Who says men can't do two things at once. Veg prepared and in steamer; meat defrosted and sitting in a dish; me worn out and sitting in a chair by 1415.
It's time for some 'me time' so I read until I know that Linda is nearly home.
Then its up and look really busy as she comes in home at about 1730.
Exhausted with all the housework and the rest of the day I slump into an armchair for an hour. Then I cook the dinner and serve it up before collapsing at the table and eating it...the dinner, not the table.
I do the dishes and fall almost senseless into a chair and read until bedtime.
I don't know how I make it through the day...I find the best way is to lie about it.
Finally; I have some news on the job front. I received a call from Royal Mail at Truro. I have been offered a job on the usual Part Time six month contract that is offered these days.
I shall be working a lot less hours than 99% of the posties at Farnham..."no change there then", I hear them cry, but which I shall ignore.
I have been offered a delivery span on a five day week from 1100 to 1300. A whole ten hour week.
That's the offer and I will take it. As the feller said when I spoke to him...take whatever they offer. It gets your foot in the door and the hours will quickly climb.
It does mean sadly, that I don't think my 39 years service time will be allowed to continue. I will be a new entrant and starting afresh. It saves them a couple of dinners for the forty year bash I would have gone to next year I suppose...it's saved them a gift as well, so it looks like they are already quids in on my employment.
Funnily enough it doesn't matter. I'm shall be back doing what I like doing the best, and thats being a postman.