…life is so abundant in them!
Tag Archives: photographs
Nature Wallpaper: Out on a Blustery Day
It’s Better To Give…
…Than To Receive. Well that’s what we’re told when we’re kids. We don’t believe it, of course. But later, with the wisdom of years, we begin to see with different eyes. And when something personally cataclysmic happens in our lives – like developing terminal cancer – we become tender hearted and the truth blossoms. So when my son’s car failed it’s annual safety and emissions test spectacularly – even going so far as to disgorge it’s brake fluid all over the parking place as the tester drew to a halt…
…I immediately lent him my all-time favourite car: my beloved 1998 Toyota Corolla. However, as winter wore on, I became increasingly concerned about the underbody rust that the road gritter’s salt would promote. I didn’t say anything: what would be the point? He needed a car, and there it was – doing naff-all behind the carport gates. But it gnawed. Then, recently he began to complain that the Corolla was astonishingly slow. Pitifully slow in fact. Okay it’s an automatic with a wheezy 1.33 litre engine; and his journey to work involves some serious hills: but could it be THAT slow? A ride in the passenger seat for a hospital appointment proved the worst to me. Since he was driving the car full-time, my son decided that he would pay for a full service on the car, which he duly did. However, when he saw the bill for all the work that had followed, he almost regretted it. So I decided to go halves with him: it was my car after all. I also decided that I would buy him a car. I had already spotted a car at a local used car lot that, I thought, fulfilled his criteria. He wanted “something different”, but not really fast. Something that would get up the hills with ease and wouldn’t struggle in motorway traffic. So I took him there. He spotted it immediately, and despite visiting several more sales outlets, I knew it was love at first sight. So here is a picture of the fabulous old dog he has been driving, parked beside his ‘new’ automobile…
And I have to say, it certainly is different. It has one large door on the driver’s side: on the passenger side hang two smaller doors. And the dashboard looks like the cockpit of some nineteen fifties science fiction comic space rocket.
I have to say, I really like it. But what I REALLY like is the pleasure I felt when paying for it. He now has a car that he likes more than he thought he could like a car – that he didn’t need to go into debt to own. Right now I imagine he can’t quite get his head around the concept of ‘it’s better to give than to receive’; but I know the truth.
P.S For anyone who doesn’t recognise the car; it’s a Hyundai Veloster. Rather groovy methinks. Not a common car on British roads either.
Tooty’s Tussle With Cancer 3
Having visited my oncologist this morning I can announce that the immuno-therapy is meeting with some success. This means less fluid in my lung, which equates to improved breathing and the elimination of the dreaded mesothelioma cough. However he did reiterate that no matter how well the treatment works, it will, ultimately, fail. But I knew that: I just wanted to be the first person to ever beat the disease. On the down-side; my theory that the removal of the perminant aspiration tube from my lung cavity had drawn cancer cells through the incision and into the scar tissue beneath my skin has proven correct. Bummer, I now have cancer on the outside and the inside of my ribs. However, it does feel slightly smaller than previously, so it appears that the teatment is also working there too. If the pain gets too bad, there is always radio-therapy, which should zap it good and proper.
FOR THOSE OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION, OR A TENDENCY TO THROW UP AT REVOLTING IMAGES, LOOK AWAY: TOOTY’S EMACIATED TORSO AND SPINDLY ARMS ARE ABOUT TO BE DISPLAYED. THIS WILL BE FOLLOWED OF A CLOSE-UP OF THE AFOREMENTIONED LUMP. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
On the non-cancer related upside, I’ve gone out a bought myself another toy/transport module…
Also Tooty the Chef is showing more interest since the effects of the cancer wane…
But most important of all, I’m toying with the idea of trying to shoot and write a 51st Earplug Adventure…
There’s life in the diseased old dog yet!
P.S Oh yeah, I learned, this morning, that I also have curvature of the spine. Does it matter? Right now, not one bit!
Rural Wallpaper: Feed Depleted
Nature Portrait: Young Beech
Return of Tooty the Chef
Tooty the Chef hasn’t been well of late, so consequently he has cooked bugger-all, relying instead upon other people and ready meals. I know, it’s a gastronomic travesty. But following a successful shopping expedition, he drew up what meagre physical reserves he has, and set to on a quick meal to keep everyone happy. And here are the principal vegetable ingredients already in the pan…
The mix comprises roughly equal measures of red onion, yellow pepper, carrot, courgette. In a second pan boiling water has just been introduced to some tagliatelle…
Tooty the Chef says to separate those nests of pasta before they become hard in the middle. The sooner they become strands, the better – and quicker to cook too.
By now the veggies have been sizzling for several minutes. Time to hurl in some minced pork – could have been beef, but that would have made this meal too similar to bolognese…
…which was quickly blended in for an even cook. Once the onion began to look a bit singed and brown, Tooty knew it was time to add some sauce in which the ingredients could bubble invitingly for a few minutes. Since the sauce shelf contained little other than white sauces, the inattentive shopper/cook realised that he had few options. It was either a Spanish tomato and onion based salsa, or nothing at all. He was concerned that rather than being a quick and delicious meal, this hotchpotch might turn out tasting of shit. But he needn’t have worried: look…
If it looks good, chances are it tastes good. Well that’s his mantra anyway. Moreover, because it was a colourful meal, Tooty thought it best to dig out the equally colourful cutlery…
So, as the pasta announced its readiness, the rest of the meal fell into place – with a splat…
Was it yummy? Don’t be silly: of course it was.
Health Issues: Breath of Life Returns
I have to say, this morning, when I dragged this body of mine from from a near-sleepless night; endured breakfast; then somehow negotiated the eight miles to the hospital in my little car, I wasn’t expecting a day filled with sunshine and happiness. The interview with the doctor didn’t seem to be going well either. What’s this – despite the merry-go-round of tests – they still can’t quite a handle on what’s killing me? Yes, it looks like cancer, but it doesn’t appear to be invasive. It isn’t growing INTO the pleural tissues that it’s most effecting. It’s just there, creating huge amounts of fluid to form in my lung. Oh, and are you telling my sleep-deprived brain that the lung might be infected with bacteria too? Time, it has been decided, to try another aspiration via the previously non-functioning plastic tube in my side. If it doesn’t work – I’m staying in hospital. If anything other than healthy fluide escapes – I’m staying in hospital. Shit, and I didn’t even bring a pair of pajamas with me! As the nurse attaches a large syringe to my vent pipe, I say: “I’ve had a terrible run of luck; everything that could have gone wrong has. My luck has got to change. I really need to see some juice.” Moments later I’m greeted by the sight of ditch water quickly filling the syringe. “Another one! Another one!” I cry. The nurse complies: the second syringe fills even quicker. “Vacuum bottle.” The nurse calls to the two attending nurses. Expert fingers attach a vacuum bottle to my pipe, and then place it upon the floor at my feet. The fluid remains straw coloured: not the blood-stained goo I usually produce. As the bottle fills I tell the nurses how it looks more like the result of my very first aspiration. I tell them how ridiculously happy I am: how certain I was that the procedure would fail again: how I can breathe again. Then it’s over: I’m getting dressed; being handed a hot cup of tea; and being told that the fluid will now be tested for any infection.. I can go home. So I go home – my chesty, unending cough banished – to replaced by a different cough: the cough of a lung suddenly liberated from a watery embrace. Upon returning home I walk the dogs – taking them to the National Trust hillside opposite my street where the village flock graze silently. I mow the seemingly abandoned lawn. I consume a midday meal without hesitation or effort. Then, beneath a perfect azure autumn sky, I pull my Fantic Caballero from it’s lean-to, and enjoy the freedom of the country roads for the first time in what feels like a very long time. When I got up this morning, I did not expect to be doing this…
The only fly in the ointment – and there has to be one – was the fact that I’m still sporting a catheter. Believe me when I say, riding a bike down bumpy English country roads with a pipe poking out of your willy is not the perfect scenario. Such strange sensations – not one of them good. But at least I didn’t piss in my pants!
Health Issues: Tough Times For Tooty Again
It couldn’t last, of course. I knew it wouldn’t. But those balmy days following my last lung aspiration now seem like a lifetime ago. Since then I’ve undergone a pre-med at a hospital in a neighbouring city, and now know that I’ll be going ‘under the knife’ to find out EXACTLY what is wrong with me in just a few days. All the while my lung has been re-filling with chardonnay-coloured liquid that crushes the lung and displaces other organs. Very painful and which leaves me horrendously short of breath. Mentioning this fact to my General Practitioner had the desired effect. She got straight on the phone to my local hospital. Despite a pay strike by both Consultants and Junior Doctors that had effectively closed the department, one fabulous young female doctor took pity on me, and (at seven o’clock in the evening) phoned me to tell me that she would perform the procedure to empty my lung again. So, today, looking decidedly worse for wear..,
…I dragged myself, first to the X-ray department, which confirmed my doctor’s prognosis; then to the respiritory ward. Two and a half hours later, and feeling rather beaten up, this was the result…
I can breathe again, and my guts don’t hurt to high heaven. Bliss.
P.S yes the camera on my little clam shell camera is shit; but that’s why I usually use a proper camera to take pictures.
P.P.S They extracted 1860 ml this time.
Nature Portrait: Smooth Hawk’s Beard in the Rain
When, during the preceding Autumn I went collecting wild flower seeds, it was with great abandon and total randomness. Typical me, really. This is one of the results in my garden this wet and miserable July of 2023…
Nature Portrait: Bulging Beech Nuts
What Becomes of the Broken Winded? 