A Night At The Opera

I'm back. I did tell you that I would write about my night out later. My earlier post was written while I ate my breakfast, but it soon became apparent that after a long and enjoyable day yesterday, four hours sleep wasn't enough so I went back to bed to get a few more hours with my head on the pillow. And now I am back.

While we were lunching yesterday I had talked with Mr Smiley about how much I had enjoyed going to see Les Miserables again after a break of many years. I said that I was considering going to see if I could get a discounted ticket for another of my favourite shows and Mr Smiley asked that he be permitted to pay for it.

The management of the West End theatres do not want empty seats in their theatres if they can help it; the consequence of this is that if you want to see a show that day, you will probably be able to get a discounted ticket. If there is more than one of you and you want to sit together, this will probably reduce your options of available seats. However, if you are looking for just one seat, then you will have far more to chose from and may even manage a greater discount because of the difficulty of selling single seats. The first of the ticket sellers that I visited was only offering me a £2 discount on the best ticket that they had on offer (five rows back and to the right of the stage in the Royal Circle) so I gave it a miss as I was sure that I could get a better deal somewhere. And in Leicester Square, I got it. A 25% saving on a ticket for the front row of the stalls, just a couple of seats off the centre of the stage. Definitely a bargain.

And the show was ...

... Phantom of the Opera.

I am sure that even if you have not been to see the show you will be aware that one of the highlights of the show is at the end of the first act when the chandelier comes crashing down from the ceiling of the theatre onto the stage. When the show was first staged, the centre seats of the first five or six rows of the stalls were removed from the theatre so that no-one was sitting directly under the path of the chandelier's 'fall'. Today, there is no such squeamishness, so the centre seats in the first few rows have been reinstated and as I was sitting in Seat 7 (of 20) the chandelier was just inches away from me when it came crashing down. It was exciting, but I knew it was coming; the young American couple sitting beside me in Seats 8 and 9 were not expecting it and therefore it was even more dramatic for them.

It was wonderful to be able to spend a few hours enthralled by the wonderful performances of cast and orchestra. To be so close to them that it was though they were performing just for you. And to be lost in the wonderful music; the thrilling organ music when the chandelier rises to the roof of the theatre during the auction scene at the start, the caterwauling of Carlotta, the gentle songs Christine and Raoul, the aggressive songs of the Phantom, and the amusing songs of Messrs Firmin and Andre. Amazing.

To say that I enjoyed my evening, and consequently my belated birthday, would be an understatement. Many thanks Mr Smiley, I really do appreciate your friendship, and your kindness in giving me this pleasure.

A Belated Birthday Celebration

Yesterday I had my belated birthday lunch with Mr Smiley. We met at our usual meeting spot in Trafalgar Square and walked the short distance to our favourite eating place; a bar tucked up a tiny side street off Whitehall.

After a very grey start to the day, the sun and breeze had cleared the clouds from the sky and London was a hot place to be. We managed to find a table almost underneath an air conditioning unit so as to remain cool. But even though we had deliberately chosen that particular table (and the dining area was almost empty) because of its close proximity to the air conditioning, we were asked at regular intervals whether we would like the air conditioning turned down. Each time we both replied with an emphatic "No, thank you". Drinks and food were swiftly ordered and then we were free to chat. It is several months since Mr Smiley and I have seen each other and even though we email each other regularly, it just isn't the same as being able to have a face to face chat.

The time just flew by and before long it was time for Mr Smiley to head off to his afternoon meeting. But before we parted, Mr Smiley gave me my birthday present, a Waterstone's gift card so that I can indulge my passion for books, and the wherewithal to purchase a theatre ticket.

After we parted, I headed for Leicester Square in search of a discounted ticket for a 'must see' show, and then on to Oxford Street as I needed to visit John Lewis to buy some knitting needles. The heat of the day meant that by the time I had completed my purchase in John Lewis I was hot, and my feet were aching from the pounding on the pavements, so I cheated a little, I took a short ride on the Underground to Charing Cross to make my way back to the hub of London, Trafalgar Square.
Yes, that really is a photograph that I took yesterday. While not as crowded as it might be in the height of summer, or during the lunch period (the photograph was taken at 16.22), the area was still full of tourists. I still had a few hours to kill before going to the theatre so I went in search of somewhere to get a snack, and a cold drink (I wasn't particularly hungry but I knew that I would be a little later and that I would regret it if hunger pangs were to spoil my enjoyment of my night out) and I sat and drafted this post in the notebook that accompanies me everywhere.

So what did I go to see? I'll tell you about that later.

Training My Brain

Yesterday, 'cb' at Fighting Monsters mentioned the brain training experiment that the BBC are running, and being a curious person late yesterday evening I had a look at the relevant pages on the BBC website and decided to join in.

I've decided that I will try to take part in this experiment for as long as possible. Not for me, the training three times a week for six weeks. No, I shall try to stick it out for the year that the experiment runs, and I will try to do the training every day.

I suppose that I have a vested interest in whether this training really does help in keeping the horrors of dementia at bay. I live on my own, I already have mental health problems, and I like to think that I have an active mind and a useful memory. But as I get older I am already finding that my memory is not quite what it was. It takes me longer to put names to faces and vice versa, and the frequency with which I think that I must do something and then forget what it was that I was supposed to be doing is increasing.

I have already been a little surprised at how I have fared at some of the test that I have done. I fully expected anything that involved the manipulation of numbers to be difficult; I have significant problems with numbers and I know that I do. However, that does not seem to have been a particular problem so far, and I have managed to carry out all of the tests (whether they involve numbers or not), except one, with relative ease.

It will be interesting to see whether my scores improve over time; with some of the tests I think that the testing is not so much about training the brain as one's level of manual dexterity. Will the days that I am more depressed make a significant difference to how I score or are there sufficient variety of tests for my 'personal type' to counteract any influence that this may have? The questionnaire that you complete before embarking on the experiment is more in-depth than many that you may come across, and it is significant that mood over the recent past represents a significant proportion of the questions.

I believe that this is a worthwhile piece of research that all of us over the age of 18 who have regular access to a computer and the Internet should take part in. It will be interesting to see the results of the experiment and see if there really is any evidence to show that brain training works.

One Of Those Days

Sometimes, you just have one of those days when you really wish you hadn't woken up. I had trouble getting to sleep last night (probably a combination of the amount of sleep that I had enjoyed over the preceding couple of days and because my mind was so active with all sorts of horrible thoughts and memories whizzing round inside it) so it was about 2am before I finally dropped off.

I woke at 5.30am, managed to drop off back to sleep and then woke again at about 7.30. I felt awful. I needed more sleep, I could hardly keep my eyes open, my hip was causing me pain after I had obviously slept awkwardly, I had a headache, I had a stiff shoulder and all I wanted to do was cry.

What was I to do? I knew that if I went back to sleep I probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. But I really didn't want to get out of bed. It was comfortable, it was warm, and it was very grey outside and it looked as though rain was imminent.

Eventually I managed to force myself to get up, I got myself something to eat, I pottered around doing various things but not seeming to really achieve anything. I switched on the computer, checked my emails and then looked at my blog to see who on my blog roll had posted something this morning. And then I saw it. My lovely little cluster map widget had lost all its red dots. I knew that the map had been archived yesterday and that would mean a fresh map today, but after having managed to notch up dots in 65 different countries around the world during the last year, it was sad to see the map disappear and a new one appear with just a few dots covering the UK and the USA. But hopefully tomorrow the dots will have spread a little further around the world because there has been a visitor from Estonia today and another from Iran, as well as the usual visitors from the UK and USA. And who might visit overnight?

Having got over the loss of my red dots, I decided to do some knitting late this afternoon. I continued working on the circular shawl and I now have just seven and a half rows left to do before starting to work on the border. I don't suppose that I will finish those rows tonight as there are 738 stitches to the row and it takes a fair while to make one circuit around the shawl, but I am sure that the rows will be finished tomorrow evening and I will be able to start work on the border.

I'm not feeling quite so desperate now as I was earlier today (perhaps it is because I am going to have lunch with Mr Smiley tomorrow), but I still feel as though I shouldn't have bothered about today. But to be honest there have been quite a few days like that recently and I wish that there weren't.

For me, dealing with depression is about coping with the here and now. If I can get through each day, then I feel as though I have achieved something. I find it best not to think too far ahead because something is bound to crop up and spoil my plans (I only have to look at last week to see that happen), and by managing to live through one day at a time, I don't put too much pressure on myself to do things that will only result in me feeling worse than I already do when I can't cope with them.

I've decided that I am going to try to do a little reading before lying down to sleep tonight. If I am lucky, I will actually drop off to sleep while I am still reading. This happens quite often and I have actually learnt to take my glasses off in my sleep now. And if I get a decent night's sleep, then perhaps tomorrow won't be 'one of those days'.

Diary Of A (Mostly) Bad Week

Monday
A Bank Holiday and all that means. Feeling depressed and unable to concentrate on anything for very long. Feeling sorry for myself because another year has gone by and I am getting older and the aches and pains take longer to go away.

Tuesday
My birthday and things start to go wrong almost immediately. Mr Smiley has to cancel our lunch date, the postman doesn't bring me any birthday cards, and then There and Back lets me know that she isn't very well so won't be able to travel up to London for our day out together on Wednesday. All I can do is cry; this wasn't how I wanted my birthday to be.

Wednesday
There and Back may not be able to join me but I still go to the theatre. I walk to the bus stop, a bus arrives within a few minutes and almost immediately after boarding the bus it starts to pour with rain. I arrive at Cambridge Circus and miraculously the rain stops just as I get off the bus. I cross the road to have some lunch (it rains while I am in the restaurant) and then I head for the theatre. It's only a few minutes walk and still more about 45 minutes before the show is due to begin but there is already a queue starting to form outside the theatre.

I join the queue and after a few minutes it starts to move as the doors open and we are admitted. I quickly find my seat, get myself comfortable and look forward to watching my favourite (and the nation's) favourite musical. This is the first time that I have seen it performed at this theatre (Queen's); previously I had seen it several times at the Palace Theatre, and one thing that I notice early on is that the set is different from that which I was used to.

It didn't take me long to fall under its spell and the three hours of the show went by in a flash. As usual the performances were wonderful and the cast received a well-deserved standing ovation. Once the show was over, I put my coat on, gathered up the rest of my belongings and headed out into the street to make my way to the bus stop. I was again lucky with a bus arriving within a few minutes of me arriving at the bus stop and like my journey to the theatre, it was not long before it started to rain. When it was time for me to get off the bus the rain had stopped again and I walked the short distance home. Ten minutes later it started to rain again and continued for the next four hours.

How on earth had I managed to stay dry all day?

Thursday
Up early as I had to travel into London again, this time to attend a workshop about patients having online access to their pathology data. The workshop had been organised by the Department of Health and most of the attendees were pathologists, although there were a couple of GPs, a number of other doctors, at least one chief executive of a foundation trust and a number of senior people from the Department of Health. I was the only patient present, and while the idea of the workshop was to discuss the possibility of patients having access to their pathology data, my presentation was to show that some of us already have that capability.

Unlike all the other presentations which comprised numerous PowerPoint slides, my presentation used the internet and my medical record to show what can already be done by some patients in this country. The presentation went down well and during lunch I was asked many questions about the system that I was demonstrating and the benefits that I felt it gave me.

I met lots of lovely people at the workshop. I find that doctors are generally a lovely group of people to give presentations to and this group was no different. I met several professors who were very interested in what is already available in General Practice, and the President of one of the Royal Colleges has asked if I would give a presentation to the Royal College in the New Year.

I find this work, although I don't get paid for it, very worthwhile and even though I am a bundle of nerves before each presentation, I find that once I start talking the nerves disappear.

Thursday turned out to be a pretty good day.

Friday
I was very tired when I got home on Thursday and it did not take me long to get to sleep and once asleep that was how I wanted to stay. I slept most of Friday morning, had a nap in the afternoon and still managed to go to bed and fall asleep at a relatively early hour. I didn't achieve anything because I just didn't have the energy for it, but catching up with some sleep did make me feel a little better.

Saturday
Another day pretty much lost to sleep. I did manage to go out and do some food shopping and the walk did me some good. The afternoon and evening was spent half listening to the far off public address system at the Guides' rally at Crystal Palace and when the fireworks started I watched those that rose into the sky from my bedroom window. Having had so much sleep over the last couple of days I had problems dropping off, but eventually I managed it and slept through the night without waking up at all, a fairly unusual event.

Sunday
I've not been looking forward to today; it is the anniversary of my husband's death. Lots of tears at frequent intervals but I have managed to do a few chores and to do some knitting. My circular shawl is growing and I have only about another 30 rows to do before I start work on the border; work on it will certainly slow down then as I try to manipulate the border on two needles and join that to the shawl which is on another needle.

The 'Print O' The Wave' stitch panels are growing and the shape of the pattern is starting to become clear.

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It's not been my best week ever, but I seem to have survived it and hopefully things will start to improve a little now.

Guides' Centenary

Today, Girl Guides around the country are celebrating the centenary of the movement. It started as a result of a group of girls joining a rally held by the Boy Scouts at Crystal Palace and them telling Lord Baden-Powell that they wanted a movement of their own. Baden-Powell, who had originally been against the idea of an organisation for girls, was so impressed by those that attended the rally the he asked his sister Agnes to oversee the foundation of the Girl Guides.

One of the biggest rallies in the country today is again being held at Crystal Palace, and by chance I happen to live just a couple of miles from where the rally is taking place. I haven't been to it, but I can assure you that it sounds as though those attending have been having a great time. I have been able to hear the public address system from time to time and the sound of music and cheering has been a regular feature of the afternoon.

Crystal Palace has been a regular venue for rallies for Girl Guides and I remember attending one there about 40 years or more ago. I happened to be in the right place at the right time at that gathering and was fortunate enough to meet Olave, Lady Baden-Powell, the World Chief Guide. It was an occasion that I remember to this day.

My years as a Brownie, a Guide, a Sea Ranger, and a Guider, taught me a lot about myself and gave me much enjoyment and friendship. I am sure that the same can be said for the girls who are members today. So as they celebrate their first 100 years I hope that the Guide movement will continue to provide these things to the girls of the future for many years to come.

Update. The Guides are finishing their rally with a superb firework display and I have a grandstand view from my bedroom window.

Absolutely Whacked

I was going to sit down this evening and write a couple of posts giving details of what I have been doing over the last couple of days. I promised myself a few weeks ago that I would try and post every day because writing helps me so much when I am depressed. It is a way of focusing my mind without my having to try to take information on board and analyse it or act upon it.

But those posts are going to have to wait until tomorrow now. It has been another long day (partly my fault because I was very late to bed last night even though I knew I had to be up early this morning) and partly because I have been involved in a long day of presentations and discussions about patients having access to their pathology data.

So, I am promising myself an evening of relaxation. I am going to put my feet up and watch a film. I'll probably fall asleep while it is on, but what the heck, tomorrow is a day when I don't have anything planned and if I want to sleep, I can, and if I can't sleep it won't matter because I don't have to do anything that involves me in having to use my brain, or interacting with people, or anything that might be difficult to achieve.

A Quick Update

Just a quick post to say that it was great seeing Les Miserables again after all these years, and strange seeing it in a different theatre. I'll write more about my day (which wasn't quite what it was meant to be) later because today I am off to give a presentation about patients having access to their medical records, and in particular pathology data, to some important people at the Department of Health. There will be lots of professors and doctors there, so nerves are already building.

Birthdays

I hate birthdays. That is not a comment made because I am a woman and I don't like the fact that I am getting older. I started to hate my birthday when I was 44, which was 11 years ago.

My 44th birthday was the first time that my husband had forgotten about my birthday. He died five days later.

Since then I have had one 'good' birthday (my 50th) which I celebrated in Corfu with a fabulous dinner for myself, my Dad, and my Corfiot friends. I'd also had a small celebration at work a few days before my birthday. There was cake and wine for a few of my friends at work and some of them had decorated my office with balloons and banners before I got into work.

The following year I celebrated my birthday convalescing from emergency surgery. I had been taken to hospital in an ambulance from work on what should have been my last day at work before my summer leave. My trip to Corfu had to be cancelled and I missed out on what would have been my last holiday with my Dad.

Since then I have spent two birthdays in Canada, but last year and this the day has turned out to be one spent on my own. I should have been going out for lunch with Mr Smiley but he has had to cancel because he has to make a presentation for work. I have had a phone call from him, and one from my aunt and Godmother in South Africa, and one from my surrogate Mum in Canada. But because of the way of things, I have only received one birthday card. Mr Smiley was going to give me a card when we met for lunch, but that has now been put in the mail and will probably arrive tomorrow or Thursday. There and Back had already decided that because of the vagaries of the mail that she would give me my birthday card when we meet tomorrow.

So with no celebratory lunch today, I have bought myself a bottle of wine which I am drinking as I write this and I will be having salad for my evening meal. I have decided that I will celebrate my birthday tomorrow instead when I am having a day on the town with There and Back. And with a bit of luck I should be having a belated birthday lunch with Mr Smiley next Tuesday, hospital appointments (both his and mine) permitting.

New Month, New Project

September has arrived, the days are getting shorter, and it is the time of year that I usually start to think about what projects I am going to work on over the winter months. I have lots of wool in my stash, and a number of ongoing projects, but I was feeling particularly down in the dumps yesterday so I decided that I would look for a pattern to start knitting a new shawl.

I've had the wool for a few weeks now and I knew that whatever I used it for it probably needed to be knitted in stocking stitch rather than garter stitch because that is what would show up the colours best. I had though of using some of it to knit a 'Cockle Shell Scarf' but there was too much garter stitch in that, so that was crossed off the list.

A few months ago I purchased a book called Victorian Lace Today and I have been delighted with it. I already have one project underway from its pages, and plans for another (but I haven't got the wool for that yet as it is out of stock at my favourite yarn shop, The Woolly Workshop), but as I leafed through the pages I came across a pattern that I thought would be perfect. It is a large circular shawl that is mainly comprised of faggoting stitches, but which has inserts of a traditional pattern called 'Print O' the Wave' on its outer edges and is then finished off with a fairly simple edging.

Yesterday evening, while watching a film, I decided to start working on this shawl and because the pattern is so simple it is growing very quickly; having started with just 9 stitches at its centre it has now got nearly 300 stitches to each row and is already 18 inches in diameter, without it being blocked (which is the final process when knitting lace and involves wetting the knitting, squeezing out as much of the water as possible and then stretching it to shape and letting it dry).

So that you can see how the shawl is progressing I have taken a few photographs.

The Shawl so Far

A Clear View of the Faggoting

A Close Up

The needles are 4.5mm so the above photograph gives some indication of how fine laceweight wool is.