Weregopher from the Black Lagoon

Moderna today. Collect the set!

Got my second jab today. This time tentacles?

In all this jingoistic waffle about V E Day I can't help but think how much my Dad would have hated it. He refused to collect his war medals after he found out Churchill had given himself a D-Day one for popping over to say 'very well done' and then beetled back to London, referred to Vera Lynn as Moaning Minnie and hardly ever spoke of what he'd seen and done.

He finally got his medals and opened up a bit when the grandchildren came along.

I can't remember when he was called up but it was probably 42/43. I know he did his basic in Derby because we heard about that when my Brother, who lives in Belper, sugggested a game of Pitch and Put and Dad recognised the gate to the park as the ones to his training ground. He was then sent to a R.E.M.E. unit and spent what he described as the most miserable Christmas ever in Fort William. Part of his training was on the floating D.D. tanks so that was probably 43/44. He always said being on a flat bottomed landing craft in the North Sea in winter was why he never got seasick.

The only thing he said about the time between that and D-Day was when he got a couple of days leave, probably just before they locked the troops down before the attack, was going home and as soon as he put his key in the door he heard his Mother call his name. She had no idea he had leave but knew it was him not his older brother who was also serving. (Younger brother not yet old enough. He went to India for partition.)

D-Day was probably the closest he got to dying. Got to the beach dry by hopping on top of the lorry and claiming to be guarding the kit when his officer questioned him then got inside for the run off the beaches. The villages were mostly clear but the Germans had left a rear guard including spotters in the bell towers of some of the churches. After the lorry was machine gunned leaving a row of holes just above Dad's head the tanks started taking out towers on principle. They then went down through Bayeux where he got five minutes of peace in the cathedral and came out to see a woman in full couture walking her poodle. After that was Falaise which he said he could smell before they got near enough to see. The place had been flattened.

A brief stop in Paris where he managed to bump into his brother, the only time they met all war, then on towards Arras where he became the liberator of a small village south of there. Humbercamps. They camped for the night just outside the village and Dad was sent in to make contact with the locals because he spoke French well having been to Grammer school. Him and his mate decided that the big house next to the church was probably the best place so they knocked on the door and were greeted by the business end of a shotgun followed by a surprised cry of Angalis? It turned out they had managed to find the home of the local resistance leader and it was his wife who had heard the knock and thought the Germans were finally going to lower the boom on them. This was the start of a lifelong friendship as those who had lived through the occupation never forgot the man who told them they were free.

After that was Brussels were they set up workshops in Heysel. You could still see the tank tracks in the cobbled streets years after where they'd been ferrying between the shops and the units camps, including the corner where he muffed the turn and knocked over a streetlamp and blacked out half of Wemmel. He them backed up,  pushed it straight and got the hell out of there. That was the time he spoke of most because they had a chance to relax and get as much enjoyment as they could under the circumstances.

I know he reached Germany but he never said anything about that. His brother saw Bergen-Belsen and I think he blamed the strain of that on his early death from a heart attack in the 70s.

This afternoon when the official timetable says we should be partying I'm going to replant my rockery. Dad loved gardening and I think he'll approve.

I don't know if anyone spotted the subtext in a couple of tweets before Christmas but on the 17th I called my doctor first thing complaining of a niggling cough, upper back pain and lack of energy. With a recent history of asthma problems they had me in by 9.30. After doing a few tests whch showed i also had a raised heartbeat, BP135/65, but no chest congestion I was sent for a chest x-ray and some blood draws. Lucky for me the doctor is next door to the local geriatric and orthopedic unit so I could walk it. Our car had been out of action ever since a rat running idiot went into the driver side wheel arch trying to cut through a queue of stationary traffic and stove it in. I spent a lot on taxis in December.

4 o'clock that afternoon the doc calls and says "pack a bag with a good book and snacks, you have severe anemia and need to go to Jimmies (St James Hospital) first thing tomorrow and will be there all day."

8 o'clock the next morning I reported to the walk in unit where I was poked and prodded some more, given a 12 lead heart trace and had another load of blood draws. Came back and told me that the normal range for Haemoglobin is around 120 and mine was 55. Result, after more questions about my insides and prodding, an afternoon getting 2 bags of blood shoved in my arm. It takes a lot longer to put it in than it does to take it out. Managed to get through the last Lychford novella and made a fair dent in the second volume of Invisible Library. E-books FTW. Finally sent home 19.30 with packets of B12 and Folate suppliments.

19th. Went to see Star Wars ROS.

Spent Christmas feeling like crap but slowly getting energy levels back. Lethergy and fatigue are buggers.

Went back to the doc yesterday to talk about the results of yet more blood taken on the 2nd (they'd not been happy with my blood sugar either) as well as the hospital result and what she thinks has happened is years of self medicating for back and leg pain are catching up. While my liver function test seemed to be fine it's probably not been processing stuff as well as it should and the result is severe vitamin deficiency had crept up in the B department. this is why I'm so knackered. I have now been officially told to cut down on the booze, especially spirits. Boo.

I'm hoping this won't affect the Sams. I always planned a simple idea, mostly paint with a few detail parts, because after the last couple of years I wanted less stress. I've got all the bits ready it's just getting going. See previous comment about fatigue. What I am a bit concerned about is actually getting to the con. I have very low energy levels and it's a long way.

If anyone is able to meet me off the train at Kings Cross and help me get out to Marks Tey I would be very grateful. I don't know if I will need help but I suspect I will still be easily tired at that point and asking now is better than con week.

At least the physio I'm seeing after fucking up my sacroilliac in Dublin says that's getting better quicker than expected.

Getting old sucks

Workshop stuff already sent ahead. Sams packed. See you all in Marks Tey

The things I do for art...

Finally worked out uploading to Dreamwidth hosting and posting from there. Does this work?

One year on






Now fixed so the pictures show up

Goes off to do housework (who am I kidding, play Breath of the Wild).

This entry was originally posted at http://were-gopher.dreamwidth.org/1538.html. Please comment there using OpenID.