Pianoforte

Sorry, I have missed another day’s posting. I wrote some of this post yesterday, but didn’t finish it because Dad wanted to use the computer and I felt that I had hogged it for too long already.

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Today, in between visiting friends with a small baby and visiting my grandparents, I have been playing the piano. I haven’t done this properly for ages. I did attempt to play some carols at Christmas, but found that I was even worse at it than I thought I would be so didn’t play for long.  However, today I decided to take the plunge and try out some of the pieces I used to play, to see whether or not I would be able to remember them.

I tried playing the piano the other day, but when I sat down at it and tried to play it felt like learning a foreign language. I couldn’t make my fingers do what they were supposed to do, the connection between brain, music, hands and keys was not there. Today (now yesterday) however, it came back to me a bit. It probably helped that I was attempting to play music that I must have practised dozens of times before, pieces I had  to play for my exams or for my piano teacher. I remembered the tunes better than I remembered the technicalities of how to play them, but the lines and phrases seemed to come forward from the recesses of my mind more easily than I expected them to.

I wish now as I have before that I had been more studious and focussed on my piano-playing when I had the chance and, more to the point, a piano to play on! Yesterday I really enjoyed playing, something that I don’t remember doing very often when I was younger. I wanted to get the phrases right, to practise those twiddly bits over and over again until I could play it correctly; things which I would only have done under duress or the thought of an impending exam in my younger years. Alas for the follies of youth! I will have to go home and play my keyboard. It’s just not quite the same as the real thing.

The thump-thump…

…as Jack Sparrow  would call it. I call it my heart, and it is thumping. Not for any particular reason, that’s just its new way of beating. It used to shh, now it thumps. This is a good thing, because hearts are not supposed to shh. However, my heart seems to be making up for its twenty-odd years of shh-ing and is thumping most mightily and, more to the point, noisily. I can hear it all the time. People sitting vaguely near me can hear it, too, apparently! I was at a church meeting last week and the lady sitting next to me could hear my heart beating during the prayers. My parents, not sitting very near me in the lounge, could hear it the other night.

This may sound strange, but I’m finding this new loud heartbeat a bit disconcerting. I know it’s good that it’s beating so strongly, but I also know that it’s not normal to hear your own heartbeat all the time or for other peope to be able to hear it, except perhaps if one is in a particularly anxious or excited state. Also, me being me, I keep listening to it to check that it’s alright and not beating strangely or out of rhythm. I mentioned my concerns to the cardiac liaison nurse, and she assured me that it’s normal to have be able to hear your own heartbeat after having an operation like the one I had. To put my mind at rest she suggested having an ECG, which came back fine, and a 24-hour ECG (which I’ve also had before) just to make sure! I’m sure I’ll get used to it in time, and of course I am glad that my heart’s beating so strongly, it’s just rather odd and disturbing sometimes, particularly when I’m trying to get to sleep!

Two of my favourite things*

Yes, I know, I didn’t write a post yesterday. I’m going to write two today to make up for it. I know this won’t really make it any better, but at least I will have attempted to atone for my blogging sin(s).

I didn’t manage to write a post yesterday because I was out for most of the day, and the bits of the day that I was in for involved meals or sleeping (or not) or just not having enough time to write a blog post.

In the morning I went with Mum to help out at the local Oxfam shop. As I think I’ve mentioned before, she helps with sorting out, cleaning and displaying books that are donated to the shop. It was nice to be able to work with books without the stress of dealing with people! We had to sort out any books that came in as donations and decide which ones were good enough to put out in the shop. (Yes, I’m afraid that not all books make it into the shop, some of them go to the special book heaven). These books have to be cleaned (using baby wipes) and priced as appropriate. If any books that come in are very old or are thought be particularly valuable they are checked on AbeBooks and (in this particular shop, but not in all Oxfam shops) will probably then be sold online via eBay, rather than going to be sold the shop. Once the books are cleaned and priced they go into the shop if there’s room, but some books have to wait until the book stock is rotated and there is room on the shelves.

We did some ’stock management’ - taking books off the shelves that had been there for more than a few weeks - because there wasn’t much room to put any new books in the shop. I was asked to put the fiction books in alphabetical order, because some of them had got out of sequence, so I did - in strictly alphabetical order of surname. Then I was told that they don’t put them in ‘proper’ alphabetical order, just by first letter of surname, because they like to put all the books of the same size together within each letter’s section. Apparently it looks better (I suppose it probably does) and encourages people to browse. This method didn’t really appeal to my librarian sensibilities, because I thought it wouldn’t really help people who are looking for a specific author. Anyway, the fiction books are now shelved librarian-style, so I hope I no-one gets into trouble for shelving them in the wrong way!

In the afternoon I went round to see my uncle and aunt and had a very long chat over a cup of tea. It was good to see them again and catch up with their news and news of what my cousins are up to.

Yesterday evening I went to the rehearsal of the local choral society, again with Mum, who is a long-standing and active member. I was supposed to go and watch, but in the end I couldn’t restrain myself and attempted to join in with the singing. The good news is that I no longer have to sing everything an octave too low - I can manage to sing notes up to the C above middle C. I was sitting in the soprano section (mum is a second soprano) so a lot of the notes were way out of my range and would have been even if my voice was back to normal, but hooray, my voice (such as it is/was) is coming back! Sitting (and singing a bit) in a choir really made me want to be able to sing on a regular basis again. I must try and do that this year, but I’m still no nearer to making this a realistic objective.

*The two things are books and singing, in case you were wondering!

 

Not Sunday lunch (Part 2)

Oh, dear, I don’t know what I was going to write in Part 2. I think I was going to make it clear that I am in no way a technological genius, just in case I had given that impression, although I suspect the bit about me not being able to fix grandma’s camera gave that away. Hmm.

Today I went on my longest walk so far (since the operation). I met a friend at the station and we walked into town for lunch, which isn’t too far - about ten minutes or so once we’d arrived at where we were going to have lunch. We had lunch and chatted, then we wandered to the bookshop and looked round, each of us asking the other, ‘have you read it?’ about various books and usually the answer was, ‘no’. For some reason the fact that neither of us seemed to have read anything, despite both being keen readers and a librarian and English teacher to boot, amused me heartily. The shop assistants must have thought I was slightly odd. My friend wondered what I was laughing at, but fortunately found it funny(ish) when I explained. 

We then ambled away in search of somewhere to have a cold drink and sit outside. There aren’t very many places where you can do both of these things in the town centre, but we found a coffee place and ordered cold, fruit-based drinks and sat outside. Then we got too hot, so we went inside! Once drinking and more chatting were done, my friend decided it was time to catch her train home.

So, we walked up the hill to the train station (another ten or so minutes). I said goodbye to her and walked home.  It takes about half an hour to walk from the station to my parents’ house at a relatively slow speed, and it was very hot, as well as being uphill most of the way. My longest walk previous to this had been about twenty minutes. Actually, today’s walk probably took me more than half an hour, because I kept stopping for rests along the way. I thought this was the sensible thing to do. I arrived back at my parents’ house in one piece and feeling quite happy that I’d managed the walk.

Since I got back I have been continuing to work through a puzzle book one of my colleagues brought me to stop my brain going funny (or at least not any funnier than it was before). It’s full of word puzzles, Suduko and other Japanese number games, memory tests and other fiendish things. I’ve managed to complete some of the puzzles, but I think I’ve got stuck on more than I’ve finished. Never mind, at least it’s making my brain work harder than it otherwise would be. Obviously the exercises aren’t doing me all that much good, though, because I still can’t remember what else I was going to write about yesterday’s Sunday lunch! Sorry about that.

Sunday lunch (Part 1)

We had a lovely roast dinner at my brother’s house today. I don’t know how his girlfriend manages to cook it all so well. Not only did she cook it beautifully, but she cooked it for eight people, and also managed to fit everyone round a table (using two tables), which was quite impressive given the space available.

It was good to see my brother, his girlfriend and my grandparents again, all of whom seem quite well. Grandma showed everyone her and grandad’s holiday snaps - this is a regular ritual at any family gathering. She has lined up several jobs for me to do while I’m here, including helping her put phone numbers into her mobile phone and trying to make the new video recorder record things. As I’ve only rarely used a video recorder myself this latter job could be a challenge. I tried to work out how to use her digital camera (which I think she got as a free gift from somewhere) today, because she couldn’t ‘play back’ the pictures and it kept going into video mode, but I couldn’t make it work.

It must be terribly frustrating to be an older person (or anyone, for that matter) to have to try and deal with new technology and feel really, really baffled by it. I imagine that my grandma and grandad probably feel a bit like I do when confronted with an equation or some other mathematical problem - it doesn’t have to be very complicated to completely flummox me. I just can’t begin to get my head round it, and from what she was saying today, this is how my grandma feels about such things as mobile phones and video recorders. I’m sure there are many older people who are perfectly at home with the latest technology, but my grandparents are not among them.

To be continued…

A change of scene

I’m staying with my parents for a week from today onwards, just for a change of scene (and also because I suspect Mum feels better if I am within checking distance at the moment!). I’m currently sitting in my childhood bedroom, which is now the spare room, typing this on my parents’ computer, which I used to think was fast, but which is slower than I remember it and apparently has a tendency to lose connection to the internet with no warning!

Still, the view is lovely. My parents are fortunate enough to live on the edge of a small market town, very near to the countryside and the view out of the window above the desk is trees, trees, trees, road, glimpse of house through trees opposite. There are some nice fat pigeons in the trees - the ones Mum often threatens to bake in pies (poor pigeons) and you can often see squirrels, although I haven’t seen any yet today. The pigeons are flying from the trees over the roof above my head, which is quite disconcerting because I keep thinking they’re going to crash into the window. Unfortunately, this has happened before. (Don’t worry, Mum didn’t put any of the pigeons into pies).

So far today I have travelled here on the train, the bus and another train. I couldn’t face the Underground, scaredy-cat that I am, so we took the number 73 bus from Victoria to King’s Cross. This takes about 45 minutes as opposed to the 20 minutes on the tube, but never mind. It’s marginally less crowded and there are windows and air! It was one of the infamous bendy buses. I quite like them.

This afternoon we went for a walk (we being Mr C and I - he is staying until tomorrow then back home for work on Monday). There is a really sweet minature pony in one of the fields nearby. I wish I’d had my camera with me, but unfortunately I left it at home. The pony came over to say hello and eat some grass from our side of the fence, despite having plenty over on his side, thereby illustrating that well-known saying!

Other than the walk we have spent the afternoon in the garden reading the paper and talking. All very relaxing. There is definitely a greater choice of scenic places to walk round here, so hopefully I will get back into the routine of three walks a day. I’m afraid to say that I have been slacking in the past few days - it’s a lot harder to keep up the routine when there’s no one there to prod me. Of course, now Mum and Dad are both here to make sure I do the walks, so that will help with my motivation. I also need to increase the length of my walks even more - apparently by this time I should be doing about 40 minutes per walk, which I hadn’t realised until Mum told me this the other day! Whoops.

I’m hoping to continue to blog every day while I’m staying with my parents, but, as I’m using their computer, the time that I can spend writing might be limited. Dad is quite a keen eBayer and Mum is researching her family history, so the computer is likely to be in demand. If I’d thought ahead a bit more I could have written some posts in advance and set them to publish on future dates but, as it is, I’ll just have to see how it goes.

Books by post

Nothing to do with voices, but never mind…

I love books, and I love getting post, so getting books through the post is something I find very exciting. Due to me being off sick and them being lovely, my colleagues at the Library of Doom sent me a card, some chocolates and a Waterstone’s voucher. Their generosity was such that I’ve already been able to buy two books, and still have enough money left on the voucher to buy several more! (Thanks everyone). The delights of the internet mean that I’ve been able to purchase the books without actually going to a bookshop (getting back up the hill from town would be a problem at the moment) and means that not only am I able to buy books, but I also get post! 

Anyway, my first purchase was Stardust, by Neil Gaiman, with illustrations by Charles Vess. Having seen the film and enjoyed it, I was keen to read the book on which the film was based. I was also eager to see Charles Vess’ illustrations because I really liked the ones he did for Susanna Clarke’s The Ladies of Grace Adieu. I haven’t read the book yet (or the other book that I’m about to tell you about - I should have thought of that before I started writing about them, shouldn’t I?), but I’ve had a look (or several) through it, and the illustrations are lovely.

I’m looking forward to getting stuck into Stardust, but first I have to read a book someone has lent to me. I always feel that I should read books lent to me before reading books I’ve bought. This probably means I shouldn’t buy any books if I already have borrowed books waiting to be read, but sometimes the temptation is just too great. Besides, someone might lend you a book while you’re waiting for a book to arrive in the post, and by then it’s too late.

So, the next book on my list to read is Fifth Seal, because this is a book I’ve borrowed from someone else. It is, I must admit, a book I never thought I would read. I think I have actually said that I would never read Christian fiction (for this is what Fifth Seal and its companions are), and yet, I find myself not only reading it, but, shockingly, enjoying it quite a lot.

 Needless to say, someone at church offered to lend me Fifth Seal, but only after she had already lent me Fourth Dawn and Sixth Covenant, the books either side of Fifth Seal, in the A.D. Chronicles series. I borrowed them because I didn’t want to seem impolite (how English of me), but I was a bit dubious about them. I’ve never really got on very well with Christian books in general. More often than not they leave me feeling patronised, inadequate (!) or angry and the idea of Christian fiction really did not appeal. However, I dutifully started to read Fourth Dawn and found it very interesting. Even if it’s not the most well-written book in the world I’ve read a lot worse, and the authors have obviously done a lot of historical and theological research.

The books I’ve read so far deal with the years preceding and following the birth of Jesus, ‘historical fiction’ focussing on the lives of Mary, Joseph and their families and friends, the political intrigues of the time and the consequences of those intrigues for the ordinary (and extraordinary) people of Israel. I was particularly pleased to find that Jesus’ Jewish background is made very explicit, something which doesn’t always happen in Christian circles. There’s a lot of fascinating information about Jewish law, practices and scripture and the way in which it relates to Jesus, as well as historical background concerning Roman and Herodian rule in Israel during the time before and after Jesus’ birth.

As a contrast, theologically at least, the other book I bought with my voucher is Once Upon a Time in the North, the new book by Philip Pullman. I didn’t know it was coming out until I read about it on Vicki’s blog the other day. It arrived yesterday, and it’s beautifully put together, apart from anything else. I can’t comment on the story because, as I said, I haven’t read it yet, but if it’s anything like the other books set in the world of the His Dark Materials series I’m sure it will be very good indeed. I will try and report back on my recent purchases once I’ve read them.

 

The internal negative voice

Hazel wants to know why I don’t always have the confidence to write about the things on my list of voice-related topics for May’s NaBloPoMo (see comments on this post). Somewhat serendipitously, if not particularly cheerfully, answering her question gives me an opportunity to write about the ‘internal negative voice’, which was one of the topics on my list. I have no idea what the proper term is for this, but what I mean by it is me telling myself negative things about myself (or other things) on a regular basis. I expect most people have the same problem, unless they’re complete egomaniacs, but I know some people experience it more than others.

I’m not writing about all the things on my list of voice-related topics because I think my blog posts are rubbish and  boring at the best of times, and, quite frankly, I can’t be bothered to spend time writing anything especially meaningful because it’ll end up being meaningless and dull and I may as well not have bothered*.

The above is a good example of my internal negative voice. It’s the same voice that is setting me wondering whether I’ll be able to do my job when I go back to work. Part of me is desperate to go back, because I need to get back to a normal routine and I need to see people! Another part of me is scared that I will have forgotten how to do my job, that I won’t know anything and I’ll just be a nuisance. I felt inadequate enough before I went away and now I really won’t know what I’m doing when I go back. I think I dread this feeling of inadequacy more than anything, even more than the thought of having to deal with my line manager (the two may related, however).

Oh, I probably shouldn’t even be thinking about work! And whinging certainly isn’t going to help me or make anyone who reads my blog very happy. Sorry. Time for another walk, I think.

*In case you’re wondering why I carry on writing my blog, I usually only write when I’m feeling more positive about myself and my ability to write, or when I think I need to (for example to convey news or information) but the problem with doing NaBloPoMo is that you have to write every day however you’re feeling!

In dreams

I had a particularly odd dream last night. I dreamt that I was in the cast of Heroes and I was in a scene with Matt Parkman where we were running through the streets of somewhere Roman, from what I could tell. Matt didn’t have the required pass to get through to the next section of the city so the guards took him away. I had the proper pass so I ran on and as I ran I could hear Matt being beaten up by the guards. I got back to the house (no idea where this was) and I was myself (as opposed to my character), but the scene from Heroes was actually real life and I found myself talking to Claire Bennet, saying that we had to go and rescue Matt.

I was thinking about dreams in relation to “voices” and I realised that I can never remember what people sound like in a dream. I can remember other sounds (such as the sound of Matt being beaten up in last night’s dream), but not the way people’s voices sound. Even in real life, there are some people’s voices that I find it really difficult to recall to memory and hear in my head. Certain people’s voices come to mind easily, but there are some that I just can’t remember even if I know the person really well and talk to them a lot. I wonder whether it’s because some people’s voices are more distinctive and therefore more memorable than others. I suppose so.

In relation to dream-like states and voices, I had quite a strange experience when I was in hospital (I must stop using that phrase) and had taken quite a large amount of codeine to help with the post-operative pain before I went to bed. When I got into bed and shut my eyes to try and go to sleep I started to have conversations with people (various different people, some I recognised, some I didn’t) who I thought were standing at the foot of my bed, talking to me. However, when I opened my eyes there was noone there. Every time I closed my eyes I thought there was someone there and talked to them, only very briefly, because part of me knew they weren’t really there and made me open my eyes again and wake up. In the end, it got so annoying and also quite disturbing that I didn’t want to shut my eyes anymore so I gave up on trying to go to sleep! It was most strange, and not an experience I would like to repeat.

The sound of the giraffe

I have often wondered what sound a giraffe makes, and it seems that many other people have, too. Just try searching for “giraffe noise” or “giraffe sounds” or similar in Google, Yahoo or wherever and see how many results come up! I haven’t seen many giraffes in real life, but the ones I have seen didn’t make any kind of vocalised noise, or at least not one that I could hear.

Giraffe, sometime contributor to this blog, snores. I thought that he was the only snoring giraffe in existence, but apparently I was wrong! I found an article which talks about giraffes snoring as well as making other kinds of noises, including mooing, coughing and even “flute-like sounds or whistles”. Obviously they are more musical than I thought. Some of the links from this article no longer work, but this piece about giraffes from the Wellington Zoo website confirms that they do make various different noises.

One recent discovery about giraffe communication is particularly interesting. Elizabeth von Muggenthaler, and her colleagues at the Fauna Communications Research Institute studied 11 giraffes at zoos in North and South Carolina in the United States and found that they seemed to be using infrasound, sound below the levels of human hearing, to communicate. This would explain why lots of people think that giraffes are mute!

You can find out many other interesting and exciting facts about giraffes all over the internet, but I particularly like Matt’s World of Wicked Giraffes. It’s the only place I’ve found so far that mentions the fact that there is a giraffe in space! Excellent!