Author: Jenny’s Brave New World!

Every year my son, husband and I go hiking for a few days. We’ve been to the White mountains for the last two years so decided that it was time for a change. The Green mountains of Vermont seemed the obvious choice, a three hour drive and the weather forecast great.

We booked into the Inn at Manchester and were very impressed. The rooms were spotless and the service first class. We wandered into the town and I was really lucky to find a Kate Spade handbag less 80%! A good start to the holiday! Over our evening meal a hike of thirteen miles was suggested. Seven or eight miles would have been nearer the mark! It’s summer in Vermont. This equals heat and high humidity. We had both!

So, after a fairly hearty breakfast I was told that we were hiking to a waterfall, walking back about half a mile and then on to a pond. This sounded simple and hopefully straightforward! All paths would be marked and the hike was listed as moderate. I can do moderate! I do, however, struggle with snakes, spiders, bears, bobcats, lynxes, coyotes and the many other forms of wildlife not found in the UK!

But, I needed to be brave and not let the side down. If I was that scared I could stay at the hotel! I needed the steps and wanted the experience and to spend some quality time with my son. Biting the bullet I prepared for the journey! We found car parking in the shade. I adjusted my knee straps and shoe laces, sprayed enough insect repellent to wipe out most of the midgies, mosquitoes and ticks within a five mile radius and we set off.

The path to the waterfall was well trodden and easy! I could stay out of the longer grass and only had dead leaves to contend with, hoping I wouldn’t inadvertently tread on any snakes! We passed a few people, some with their dogs, so I began to feel braver and quite excited about the forthcoming adventure.

When we reached the waterfall we took our photographs, my son and husband doing their usual pose at the edge of a cliff (they are so predictable!) and we set off to find the track leading to the pond. It was well signposted so we took a right and began the one thousand six hundred feet climb! The track looked fairly well trodden and the blue markers on the trees visible as we passed them by.

I’m not sure when I noticed that the path was beginning to deteriorate. The dark blue markings on the trees had faded to a light, almost white hue. I was looking down at where I trod, climbing over fallen logs, leaping over stones to avoid swathes of thick black mud and trying to prevent decapitation from low hanging branches. My son remained cheerful, calling out the miles reached. ‘PB, Mom’ he’d shout! Soon going to be a personal best! What an achievement at your age!’

Our first sortie into jungle bashing began as we turned a corner and the shrubs and grass on either side of the trail had suddenly grown way above our heads! We needed machetes to clear a path. Of course, we never had any! I could see almost nothing of the ground and my walking stick soon became a weapon to force my through the thick foliage! However, there were still signs of a track which my son followed, shouting warnings. ‘Log’ he’d yell, or ‘swamp’ as we tried to manoeuvre our way through the mire!

Finally we reached a clearing and took stock. My son’s phone had periodically been our guide and we had been following a marked track. However, we now found ourselves out on a limb, a blue dot flashing in the middle of nowhere! We’d gone off piste! There was a thick impenetrable quagmire on three sides and an overgrown jungle straight ahead. My heart sank. I dared not think of snakes swimming towards us, or bears rushing out of the jungle, followed closely by lynxes, bobcats and packs of vicious coyotes! Then there were the insects 🐜 🦟 🕷! I could sense them hovering, their battle cries gradually becoming a cacophony of buzzing, chirruping and shrieking!

My heart was sinking, deeper and deeper. Even my positive, pragmatic son and husband were quiet. Suddenly my son shouted ‘Look there, Dad, there are red bows tied on those two trees! Perhaps that’s someone showing us a way out?’ It was worth a try. My son led the way and my husband and I followed. Thankfully we were able to manoeuvre our way out and pick up the rough track we’d been following. With a huge sigh of relief we marched out of the ‘valley of death’ and on towards the pond!

Seventeen miles and eight hours later we got back to the car, still cool in the shade! I had burst blood vessels on both legs due to the tight knee straps, heat and perspiration! We had drunk all the bottles of water and eaten the few packed sweets and health bars. We were ravenous and totally exhausted!

But we had survived! Seen no snakes or wild animals! We didn’t have our fancy planned meal out that night but settled for a takeaway! We had all achieved our ‘personal bests’ and been left relatively unscathed! ‘A lucky escape’ was the general consensus! We lived to hike another day! 👠

I have written about our gang of six in an earlier blog. We are all so different and yet we get on really well. Two of the couples live in Cheshire and the third lives in Devon, relocating about ten years ago.

Our Devon friends have bought a boat. When they visited in March we discussed meeting up later in the year to go sailing if our hectic lives and busy schedules could accommodate. We are all retired but that is what happens when you become ‘people of leisure’. There is time to do so much more than just going to work every day!

Our reunions are always fun! We catch up on family and friends’ news when the three of us girls go for walks along the beautiful esplanade and watch the yachts bobbing merrily in the breeze. Tiny waves gently wash up on the shore and the sea reflects the azure blue of a cloudless sky. That was the weather this week. We are not always so lucky!

Weather Apps were studied and compared to the BBC and other reputable weather forecasts. The decision was made that Tuesday would be the calmest at sea and the tide in the river Dart would be perfect to get us to Dartmouth and lunch at a pub. One weather App did forecast late afternoon thunderstorms but could not be substantiated so we decided that it was a rogue site and best ignored!

We caught the bus, carrying our bags containing sunscreen, fresh milk for coffee and tea and cameras for those not solely reliant on their mobiles. The fridge on the boat remains stocked with beers, Prosecco and wine so we didn’t have to be weighed down by bottles! We nursed our hot drinks when we reached the boat and were given a brief safety lesson before all helped to prepare for the journey. Driving a car is nothing like sailing a boat! It took us a good hour to prepare for ‘sail off’ and then another half an hour getting life jackets fitted to size and shape!

The radio crackled into action as ropes were removed from the moorings on the jetty. We slowly sailed out of our parking bay and headed towards the open sea. I had my supply of travel sickness tablets just in case and watched as our captain masterfully steered his boat between some spectacular cruisers as we left the harbour behind.

Feelings of trepidation were instantly replaced by excitement as I made my way up to the top deck to get the best possible view. All of us were on the lookout for seals and dolphins. I settled back, cold drink in hand to feel the warm sun on my face (50+ sunscreen lavishly applied) cooled by a gentle breeze.

We didn’t see seals or dolphins but we did have a wonderful day! Memories were made spending quality time with good friends and doing something new and exciting!

This is what life should be all about! I grab these moments! Long may they last! 👠

As an incentive for my husband to replace football with another form of exercise we both joined a gym. The same gym so that we can car share! I do the classes and he works out on the sweaty machines.

However, I have travelled solo to at least two classes every week and my husband has only done two workouts in the last six weeks! I’ve given up on the car share idea! It was good while it lasted! Once! Hopefully we’ll get into a routine soon. Urgent chores have been dealt with and the garden can begin to look after itself! Weeding and pruning have become less of an issue and we can enjoy the fruits of our hard labour. And get time to do other things!

I did have a personal trainer, Dan. He showed me how to use the relevant equipment to tone certain ‘problem’ areas and increase cardiovascular fitness. We started with interval training. On a static bicycle! It was awful! Two minutes slowly (I found this really tedious) and thirty seconds flat out, for ten minutes! Not for me!

We moved onto the machines. I have no practical gene. He had to show me a few times how to set them. I needed to load a ‘pretend’ bow and then push with force. Two separate exercises but on the same machine. Both needed different settings. I needed a pen and paper to draw diagrams but didn’t come prepared! I mentally ruled those exercises out!

We then moved on to kettlebell weights doing squats and arms. These were easier to understand. I just needed to remember the size of the kettlebells! There were rows of them. Not wanting to sound even more aged and pathetic I tried to make a mental note by checking the physical sizes and seeing where they slotted back on the rack. Somewhere near the front …..

We moved onto the floor work. This was a doddle! No weights, just a sponge roll which I used for reverse curls, rolling backwards and forwards to strengthen my back and sit ups. I had found my comfort zone. I finished with an impressive plank and, shaking Dan’s hand, I left the machine room, never to return!

I enjoy the classes. I do ‘body pump’ and have learned how to slide the weights on and off the well worn bar in the allotted time. I have finally ‘got’ the dance moves and don’t knock into the ladies closest to me sashaying the wrong way! I have even stopped tripping over my step and finished with the same leg and facing the same way as the rest of the class this morning!

I need to enjoy exercising. That has been my motto for years. I have to set my alarm two mornings a week and I’m not working so it has to be worthwhile! I am paying to go to the gym and this is another incentive. I jog on the treadmill after my classes so won’t panic if the summer continues to be a washout. I enjoy walking with my friends when we don’t have to carry paddles to get back home!

I’m doing my bit to stay healthy and keep fit. It’s Friday tomorrow. I’m looking forward to the weekend when I can relax and enjoy a G&T and wine with my meals. It’s all about balance. A rich, full-bodied Shiraz with delicate tones of blueberries, cherries and spices is always well balanced and always good ….. 🍷 👠

This is day six of virtual non stop rain! I can’t remember when or if we have ever had weather like this! Even during the bleakest, coldest winters when I worked and had limited time in the evenings, I was able to walk or jog most days! People in this country are suffering from a critical vitamin D deficiency! The tell-tale signs are becoming apparent!

We’re fast losing our sense of humour and our joie de vivre! Even those friends whose positivity under all circumstances sometimes really annoys me, have succumbed! Grey can only be tolerated for so long! After a few days it becomes debilitating. Feeling damp and cold inside and out has a devastating effect on mood and well-being.

Residents in my mother’s care home have turned into dormice! Maybe that’s the way to go! My friend and I went to the care home this morning to give the weekly exercise class. Unfortunately the staff had problems getting residents out of bed. The poor activities manager was running around trying to get everyone into the sitting room but had no support. We finally gave up! Sad, but maybe it’s the weather? Or maybe just apathy on the part of the staff!

The ‘bog’ section of my garden is under water! In a previous blog I posted about my garden ‘rooms’. Well, the ‘bog room’ (pardon the pun) is a wet section where I grow irises, arum lilies and plants that like wet conditions. Alas, I haven’t planted water lilies or willow tress that actually grow in water! It looks like a swamp! A heron was in our garden this morning, probably hoping to find goldfish swimming between the arums!

It wouldn’t be so bad if, between the downpours, the sun came out, even briefly and the sky turned blue! I would rush outside and soak in some rays before the engorged clouds scudded back, knocking into each other and spilling their contents yet again. At least I would have a memory to hang on to. I have to look at photographs to remind myself what sunshine looks like!

Yesterday I walked to yoga holding a huge umbrella to protect my bag and mat. Due to all this rain shrubs have taken over the pathways. Weeds have sprung up between the cracks and it has become an obstacle course to get to the clubhouse. Gardening is not high on anyone’s list of priorities so our park will soon become a tropical jungle! Being the inveterate worrier and with this rain showing no signs of abating, we’ll either be overrun by triffids or washed out to sea!

However, there is one huge positive! Not one to be taken lightly! I don’t have to go out if I don’t want to! I am not beholden to anyone! It has been a year since I became a Lady of Leisure! I still appreciate having the choice to do what I want and the glorious time to do it in! So life is not all doom and gloom! Maybe tomorrow the sun will come back. Maybe tomorrow I’ll win the lottery and buy a home where the weather is more predictable!

Or, maybe tomorrow will be the same as today? Only tomorrow will tell …..👠

This week we took my sister and brother-in-law to North Yorkshire. The added bonus was meeting my daughter and son-in-law in Pickering. We celebrated my daughter’s birthday with her godmother (my sister), had a super meal and even managed to get a ‘death by chocolate’ birthday cake! This was presented to my daughter after the main course so there were no desserts required! I’m sure this was factored into the price of the cake!

Once more our Bed and Breakfast was good, a huge relief because I had booked on the internet and just had reviews to go by. We arranged an early breakfast in time to walk to the station and catch the 9:25 am steam train to Whitby. Needless to say the weather could have been significantly better! Luckily we weren’t going up any mountains so had clear visibility, albeit grey with no promise of blue skies and, heaven forbid, some sunshine!

After finding the only four suitable seats in a first class cabin we paid the surcharge and settled down to relax and watch the world go by. The station at Goathland was used in some of the Harry Potter films and, between the stations of Goathland and Grosmont was the ‘village’ of Aidensfield, used in the television series Heartbeat’.

When we arrived at Whitby, renowned for its jet jewellery, Abbey, delicious fish and chips and Captain Cook, we were thankful that the rain had moved up the coast. Also, according to Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula was aboard the fated ship ‘Demeter’ and washed up on the beach, creeping into Whitby in the form of a dog! We climbed the 199 steps to the church of St Mary then on to the ruins of the Abbey. Rumour has it that Dracula was buried in the cemetery at St Mary’s and the Abbey had been the inspiration for some of the dramatic scenes in the novel!

Whitby has a strong maritime history and Captain Cook, who moved there when he was eighteen as a Merchant Navy apprentice, sailed in two ships, HMS Bark Endeavour and HMS Resolution. Both ships were built in Whitby. Captain Cook mapped the East coast of Australia and circumnavigated New Zealand in HMS Bark Endeavour. HMS Resolution was the first ship to cross the Antarctic circle. There is an ornamental replica of HMS Bark Endeavour in the harbour but the original ship sank in Newport, Rhode Island. The first built replica is in Sydney harbour. This ship was seaworthy and sailed around the world twice!

So, all good things must come to an end! My sister and her husband are sailing around the Dalmatian coast. I am looking outside at rain pouring down on already sodden earth. Day three with no sign of abating! Tomorrow is back to the gym to shed the excess of the last two weeks! Alas, I only have two weeks to get back into shape before we visit friends in Devon. It’s a hard life ….. 👠

My sister and her husband are on their annual visit to England from Australia. My sister spends time with our mother but we arrange two day trips each week so that they can see parts of the United Kingdom as well as Cheshire. This week we went to Wales.

We have a Welsh heritage. My paternal grandfather was Welsh. He was born in Wales to Welsh parents but married a Cornish woman. My father was born in Reading so we can claim to be part Welsh. My brother has shown greater affinity to his Welsh heritage than my sister and I!

We stayed at a very good Bed and Breakfast near Harlech. My husband booked a trip up Snowdonia by train and we planned to visit Portmeirion, a unique village in Gwynedd, North Wales. It was built by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis between 1925 and 1975, based on an Italian village.

I also tried to arrange some summer weather but that didn’t work! We left on a bleak grey day, gazing out of the car window at ‘mizzling’ rain, interspersed by heavy showers, thankful that we were in a warm car and not outside fighting the elements!

On our first night we went to the only local, a small pub which offered basic fare but made us feel as if we were in a foreign country as they all spoke a foreign language! It was different. It was frequented by farmers and local tradesmen. Walking into the tiny bar we felt as if we were intruding and couldn’t wait to find a table on the perimeter, far enough from their obviously hallowed sanctum but still within the walls of the pub! This was the only restaurant within walking distance and we didn’t feel like getting back into the car! We needed to stretch our legs and make Fitbit happy!

The steam train up Snowdonia was a disappointment. We were offered a full refund because the train couldn’t go to the summit. Having come so far we decided to go only two thirds of the way just for the experience. Not one of our best decisions because the fog outside hampered visibility and the breathing inside clouded up the windows. Our supply of tissues soon ran out and by the time we were on the descent we could have been anywhere in the world on an overcrowded train with blacked out windows!

Portmeirion was far more enjoyable. The weather had improved (how weather obsessed I have become since living in England!) and we were able to wander down to the beach after a delicious lunch and liquid refreshments. I have a new plant app so had great fun identifying plants and shrubs along the way! I felt like a child with a new toy! Sad but embarrassingly true!

My mother has deteriorated quite significantly since my sister saw her last year. Even though I tried to warn her she was not fully prepared. Understandable but still very upsetting. This is why our weekly breaks are important to put distance between the visits and allow time to adjust to the changed circumstances.

My mother still retains most of her dignity. She is a beautiful woman and I ensure she dresses well. There is not a lot I can do to aid her along this debilitating cruel and evil dementia journey. I can be her gate keeper and protect her where possible. I do this by frequent visits and close interaction with the carers and management staff. I ask questions if unsure and voice concerns when they arise. A really sad end to someone who gave so much of her time and energy in helping others! 👠

I like discipline. I also feel comfortable obeying rules. My husband, on the other hand, likes to break rules and, unlike me, doesn’t feel comfortable being stifled by boundaries and any kind of restrictions. He is not an anarchist or a criminal, he just likes the freedom to chose but does stay within the wider boundaries if the country’s laws! Thankfully!

I’ll give you an example. If the speed limit is 50 miles per hour, I’ll set my cruise control to 50 miles per hour. My husband will set his to 52 miles per hour because he says that his car’s speedometer is slow! He hasn’t got a speeding fine but I’d be anxious in case one came in the post weeks later!

He also doesn’t worry. I worry all the time about everything. Last Wednesday morning at about 4:00 am he had a very bad nose bleed. There was blood everywhere and the bathroom looked like a war zone. I called 111 and within five minutes an ambulance was on its way. Luckily the deluge had become a trickle just as the ambulance arrived. His blood pressure, heart rate and haemoglobin count were normal so they left him some paperwork and told him to see a doctor later that day.

I couldn’t get back to sleep. After washing the carpet and changing our bedding my husband slept like a baby. I tossed and turned and then got up and did the ironing! He couldn’t get an appointment for that day and was told to ring back first thing the following morning! I contacted 111 again, explained the situation and within a few minutes there had been a cancellation and my husband saw a GP that same afternoon!

He hadn’t been too concerned! I had been really annoyed and very concerned! He was sent for blood tests. The doctor said that there might be a problem with his platelets. I diagnosed leukaemia immediately! My husband insisted that there was nothing wrong with him and moved on. Not me! Today I rang the surgery, gave the phone to my husband to ask for his results, much to his annoyance and he was told that all was normal! “As I tried to explain to you all week”, my husband said. “Nothing wrong with me! Just one of those things!”

So, I think I have inherited another dodgy family gene to add to the ever expanding murky pool! Both my parents were worriers. Someone had to inherit so, being the eldest, I took the hit! Not that my siblings appreciate it! Nor the rest of my family!

There is, however, a gene that my husband and brother-in-law were very sorry that neither my sister nor I had inherited! My mother was always very careful with her money! My father gave her control of the family purse as soon as they got married. My mother never abused this ‘privilege’ and stuck to the mantra ‘look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves’!

I overheard my husband and brother-in-law talking. “A pity my wife didn’t inherit her mother’s ‘mean’ gene” my brother-in-law commented when my sister and I had returned from a shopping trip. “Probably too mean to pass it on” came my husband’s acerbic retort.

So, my husband and I are poles apart. Chalk and cheese or yin and yang? Either way, I am grateful that I married someone completely different to me. Imagine if we were both the same? We’d never have had all our exotic holidays! We’d probably never have travelled further than our places of work!

We’d be sitting up together in the wee early hours contemplating our stressful lives and not wanting to go out at all. No, it doesn’t bear thinking about! We balance each other out. I’m the voice of reason (sic) and he is the catalyst that I need to bite the bullet and get on with life! A union made in heaven? Maybe? But one certainly made on earth! 👠

Who would have thought that filling up my husband’s car this morning would have been such a challenge! I have been filling cars since time immemorial so when I was driving to the gym and heard the alarm to warn me that in fifty miles I would need fuel, I had no qualms in going to the petrol station after my class.

There was an offer on at one of the large supermarkets so the queues of cars stretched back into the main road. I was undeterred. I had time to wait and my husband would be happy that his pension had been wisely spent! I listened to the radio and checked my emails. The time passed by pleasantly and I found myself behind two aged gentlemen filling their cars so my wait was coming to an end. Or so I thought!

The gentleman directly in front of me filled his car and went into the kiosk to pay. In front of him the first gentleman was still holding the nozzle and staring at the petrol pump, immobile. He was still holding this pose when the gentleman in front of me returned, climbed into his car and started his engine.

We both sat and waited, watching the figure, still not moving, one hand holding the nozzle and his body turned towards the pump, It felt like an eternity. The gentleman in front of me moved closer to the statue’s car. I had turned the engine off as it made no sense to leave it running!

We both sat and waited. We couldn’t get out. I looked behind me. There were at least five cars in my queue. The forecourt was a hive of activity. All the other lanes were moving at a sensible pace. The gentleman in front of me edged closer. I turned on the ignition and moved forward. I could just make out the petrol gauge. It had stopped. So what was the holdup?

It was then that I noticed the petrol gauge move, just fractionally and then stop. In the blink of an eye it moved again. Then stopped. So that was the reason for the intense concentration and the huge delay! Said gentleman was trying to get the amount to round up to the nearest pound! I’d seen this happen before but to younger, more agile customers! The amount showed £23.97! I blinked and then it was £23.98. We had two pennies to go!

The next blink saw the amount change to £24.01! I held my breath, a feeling of dread washing over me! With baited breath I stared at the gauge, then at the statue. It felt like an eternity before the gauge shot forward then stopped. £24.66. The tension was building in my shoulders and neck! It felt as if time had stood still. The gentleman in front of me suddenly climbed out of his car. He walked towards the statue. He laid a hand on the statue’s arm. Gently he prized open the statue’s fingers, took hold of the nozzle and I watched in awe as the petrol gauge shot forward and stopped at £25.00.

So, to cut this long story short, the statue paid for his petrol, I filled my husband’s car and could continue with my day. This must be just another form of mental illness. Now that I am sitting at home nursing a delicious cup of tea I feel sorry for this poor elderly gentleman. I could not imagine living like that! It is so sad and I feel bad about being so annoyed. I apologise unreservedly 👠

I don’t like hospitals. Actually, that’s an understatement. I really don’t like hospitals. There are a number of reasons. Firstly I suppose, I go to a hospital because there is something wrong with me. That on its own creates stress but this morning was different. I was just going for a checkup, feeling fine but still dreading the visit.

As I’ve got older I’ve realised that my gene pool isn’t all good. There are some little critters that I would not have chosen as travel companions. There is glaucoma in our family. My grandmother, aunt and now cousin on my father’s side were unlucky and have suffered and still do with this potentially blinding disease. Unlike other awful illnesses, there are eye drops which can delay or even halt the onset.

So, for the last twenty odd years I have received my annual invitation to attend the local ophthalmology department. Because it’s primarily an ‘old age’ disease I join the queue of little old ladies and gentlemen as they wait patiently to be called in to have their eyes checked. It always starts with a vision test, then a ‘field’ test (the worst, it really stresses me out!) and finally images taken of the corneas and back of the eyes (don’t blink because if you do it could take hours!).

After struggling through the long line of commuter traffic for the first time in almost a year I arrived, bright and early, at the hospital. I had also received a telephone call and a text message to confirm attendance. I was advised that this appointment costs the NHS £120! After stating my name, date of birth and the first line of my address, I was shown to a row of blue chairs. When my name was called I followed the nurse, confirmed my name, date of birth and first line of my address and had a vision test. I was then told to make my way to the minor injuries department (?) and sit in one of the yellow chairs.

I’m not sure how many children were at school this morning. A significant amount were waiting with stressed parents to see a triage nurse who would decide on the severity of their ‘minor injuries’! Barring one young lad limping and in obvious pain, chasing after his impossible little brother at the behest of his lazy mother, none of the other children looked ill.

After almost an hour listening to irate parents trying to control bored children and the occasional grunt of displeasure from the other little old ladies and gentlemen who had joined me in the yellow chairs, my name was called. For the third time I confirmed my name, date of birth and first line of my address. Happy that I had been correctly identified I took my place at a machine. I was given a cover for my left eye and told to rest my chin on the indentation and to look at the orange light in front of me. Little white dots would appear randomly around the screen. When I saw them I had to push a button which was placed in my hand. This was the field test and I had to concentrate on not chasing the little white dots around the screen but to focus on the orange light. I didn’t want to blink in case I missed a dot so, by the time the alarm heralded the end of the test for my right eye, I had blurred vision in both eyes and was convinced that I had failed miserably!

I was told to go back to the blue chairs so made my way down to where I had started. The area was filling up and I had to squeeze in between a young man staring avidly at his mobile phone and a women clutching her walking stick in one had and a huge handbag spread over her lap in the other.

I didn’t have to wait long before I was called again. Once more I confirmed my name, date of birth and the first line of my address. I followed a lady into a small office. I sat down opposite her and was fascinated by the brightly coloured peacock tail tattooed on her forearm. I wanted to have a good look but dragged my eyes away to concentrate on what I had to do next. This was the photographic session so, once more I placed my chin on the little indentation where many other chins had nestled before and was told to stare at a green cross which was on the right hand side of the screen. Like the field test, I was given a blindfold to cover my left eye.

I was allowed to blink but, when the camera was in position and the warning came, I had to open my eye wide and stare at the green cross. The right eye completed I removed the eye patch, rested my chin as before and found the green star. The only problem was that the green star was so blurred that I had to sit back, blink and try to focus. The eye patch had been too tight and the tissue that should have protected my eye had scratched it.

After numerous images the best one was chosen and I moved into the final seating area, or so I presumed because it was opposite the consultant’s door. Take five of stating my name, date of birth and first line of my address and I was ushered into the hallowed sanctum. Drops that changed the whites of my eyes to a jaundiced bright yellow were administered, my eyelids forced open and a brilliant white light blinded first one eye and then the other.

‘Your eyes are fine. Just keep on using the drops. I’ll see you in nine months.’ And that was it! Two hours after arriving I walked back through the ophthalmology department with the blue chairs, on past the ‘minor injuries’ and the yellow chairs, through phlebotomy, surgery and reception, all with different coloured chairs and out into the fresh air. I took a deep breath, grateful that I had survived another hospital visit. Being a bit of a hypochondriac I always imagine the worst! Hospitals make me uncomfortable. I don’t like seeing people unwell and struggle with the protocol. I also don’t like being treated as a child! The waiting around for hours gives my vivid imagination wings so I have self-diagnosed the worst possible outcome by the time I reach a consultant!

I have nine months to prepare for my next visit. Anything can happen in nine months ….. 👠

My husband’s family have been share holders of a North Yorkshire racing club since it’s inception. A great uncle had been one of the founder members at the turn of the twentieth century. This means that once a year the share holders gather together for the AGM, have a delicious lunch and catchup with the wider family.

It is also the only time of year that I gamble and this part of the day I find the most challenging! I have some idea about form, ‘studying’ the racing section of the Sunday newspapers and the race card. However, my choices are rarely scientific and that could be the reason why my kitty runs out after the first couple of races. After all these years I still rarely rely on the experts to try and recoup my losses. These are never significant but just as frustrating and very annoying!

Last Sunday was no different. I gatecrashed the share holders meeting (I am only married to one of the share holders and not officially invited!) then enjoyed an excellent meal and wine. The atmosphere at our table was mellow and relaxed and my husband’s cousins are always excellent company. After the cheese and biscuits the conversation inevitably turned to racing.

The Racing Post was strategically placed on a table close to hand. I had already opened it to the correct page and marked the professional verdicts on all eight races. I had also checked the race card and noted any similarities. All that was left was for me to wander down to the ring and look at the horses. I do this for two reasons, one to build up steps (yes, Fitbit was also at the races!) and the other to aid my decision. This can be based on the jockey’s colours, the size of the horse and its temperament. The more excitable and fractious (as in raring to go) the better! I then rush over to the exit and watch the horses canter off towards the starting stalls.

This is where I make mistake number one. I’m not rational! I should take a step back, study my marked race card, include another column showing my ‘ring’ choices and decide on an overall winner. By the time I reach the Tote I take the last vision of the best looking horse with me and place my bet. I am always confident and just ‘feel’ that it will come in the first three. I never back any horse for a win. It’s always ‘each way’ so keep my options open.

Mistake number two is when I panic and check the horses I have marked. I look at my race card and return to the Tote to place a couple more bets just in case my gut instinct hasn’t worked. I initially spend £4.00 on an ‘each way’ bet. I choose two more horses, ‘each way’ and spend another £8.00. I have now covered all options and can’t lose! I rush back into our section of the grandstand satisfied that at least one of my horses will perform! I have also made a significant dent in my kitty!

This is the routine on most race days unless my daughter and her husband have made the trip and we have a pooled kitty. My son-in-law takes the most risks and this usually leaves us in pocket by the end of the day, sometimes even winning!

My husband sees no point in losing money so spends his afternoon eating, drinking and chatting to family and friends. He enjoys himself. I do when I’m on a winning streak! This year I almost broke even. I did find some change in my purse that I had saved in a pouch for a rainy day. It had ‘rained’ briefly on Sunday after the seventh race so was used to supplement my final bet. Money well spent because I could back and win on the last race!

The weather was generous to a fault, the meal and company excellent, a significant win on the last race left me able to reinstate the rainy day kitty with change and I managed to get my ten thousand steps. A very good day indeed! 👠