Although my recurrent back problem had reduced me to a state of recumbent immobility after my trip to the Royal Opera on 26th, no way was I prepared to forego the opportunity to make the trek up to Oxford , a trip we’d planned for the following Monday and Tuesday. In anycase, I remembered the last time I had such a severe bout of ‘backitis’. It was in 2005 two weeks before we were about to head off to Berlin for a once-in-a-lifetime family reunion. I ended up making the journey with the front seat of our Saab almost flat. By the time we got to Berlin, almost all the symptoms had disappeared. I hoped for a similar miracle on the trip up to Oxford. We’d already booked our usual guesthouse, Pickwicks, in Headington and as Himself had a meeting in Oxford, I had said I’d drive up with him and spend the evening tormenting the young ‘uns.
But although macho-motor-maniacs (ie men) may swear by its technical prowess, our current Wundercar is not the Saab. I had to take along my precious Tschibo sausage-pillow that I’d bought somewhere up on the Baltic last year and has since accompanied me everywhere – including to India! I should have bought two. By the time we set off on Monday I could hardly get into the car and by the time we got to Oxford I felt as if I’d been locked in a veal crate for most of my life. I couldn’t even get out to deliver the 2000 Darshan fliers to the Inner Bookshop in Oxford which they've offered to send out with their next mailshot. Himself had to be my delivery boy. But it’s good to know they’ve been delivered. Of course I expect 2000 orders to come flooding in after the mailshot’s sent out in April. I wish! But they have renewed my faith in bookshops. If you're ever in Oxford try them. They have an amazing selection of books. And there's a superb vegetarian Cafe next door - The Magic Cafe.
In the afternoon I struggled into the guesthouse and lay down until Ant, Kay and Miss T came and picked me up. (Himself had gone off to the meeting). We went to Mama Mia –a very nice Italian restaurant, but I had to keep struggling up and walking around – itself a feat of agonising difficulty, while at the same time trying to be jolly with the kids. I’m afraid I wasn’t at my best. Afterwards they took me back to their house and we waited for Himself to return and tackle the family-sized pizza we’d brought back for him. Poor little Miss T couldn’t quite grasp that Grandma wasn’t her usual sparky self and I felt wretched about it.
Thankfully the beds at Pickwicks are lovely, though the haul up the stairs wasn’t. Next day we had to forego our usual routine of calling in at SIL and BIL’s on the way home as I just needed to get the journey over with.
To cut a long story short I spent the next three days flat out again, and finally agreed to pay a visit to the doctor on Thursday. She prescribed various potions and unguents, and slowly life is returning. During most of my supine state I had an equally supine companion.
All this explains why I haven’t actually done anything very much this week. I struggled to the Goldenford talk at the Guildford Museum on Saturday, and, I must say, I was pretty pleased with my contribution, especially as I’d written it under difficult circumstances. In fact I think we all (Jennifer, Jackie and I) gave particularly pleasing talks about our feisty female characters.
By Sunday I was feeling well enough to entertain seven for lunch (with some help from M&S). I’d had to put the lunch off two Sundays in a row and I didn’t want to do it a third time. It turned out very successfully and I hope our visitors had as good a time as we did. As we have various friends and neighbours from Mexico I’d been wanting to get them together for a long time. They all hit it off splendidly and I was left with the warm glow of good friendships and superb wine, particularly the Gewürztraminer that our neighbours brought, which was simply nectar of the gods. I won’t tell you where they got it, not until I’ve managed to raid the place myself in pursuit of any remaining bottles. It was actually a French one, not a German one, which was even more surprising as I usually find the French version a little too acidic – but this one was perfect.
And finally spring does seem to be making a bit of a statement – even our indoor plants are beginning to respond to the changing season. This succulent has put out a superb little flower – red blossoms framed by pale, fleshy blue-green.
And I’m thrilled by my clivia, which has finally decided to flower. I bought it (as I buy so many of my plants) as a reject from a garden centre – they only seem to want to sell plants that are about to burst into blossom. Part of the instant gratification climate that we live in these days. It’s so much more gratifying to nurture a plant from ‘birth’ or to revive a dying specimen, and then see it in full bloom.
Must go – time to get some more of my allegorical fantasy ‘Noontide Owls’ ready to read out at Guildford Writers tonight.
