This is about half of the slope from Belle Plagne to Bellcote; it's steeper than it looks in the photo.
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
Two trial photos
Here is the view coming out between the buildings in Belle Pagne. I am about to ski down to the right.
This is about half of the slope from Belle Plagne to Bellcote; it's steeper than it looks in the photo.
This is about half of the slope from Belle Plagne to Bellcote; it's steeper than it looks in the photo.
Days 2 and 3 in La Plagne
Monday 7th and Tuesday 8th January
Well, I managed to publish one photo on Sunday, the wonderful view from our balcony. You can't see them in my photo, because the light wasn't right, but we are right opposite the two half pipes; from our balcony, we can watch the snow boarders doing acrobatics. I may try another balcony photo in the morning light and see what I can capture in different light. Since it seemed I could publish a photo or text, but not both, I'll try with two photos and almost no text, and see how that works. If it doesn't, I may have to do photos singly.
I did have my first day on the snow yesterday, and it began well. It was a wonderful blue sky day, in fact it was very hot. I started off, as usual, in the beginners' area, which in this case has two 'magic carpets' and a button lift, so you can get quite high up the hill, though they are rather badly planned; they are on opposite sides of the slope, with a shuffle up the hill between the top of one and the bottom of the next. Anyway, I was able to practise my turns, and seemed to be able to remember what to do; all the walking across the slope was rather tiring, so we bought lift tickets and went high up the hill in the Télécabine - the gondola. Then I skied all the way down and felt quite pleased with my progress. After lunch, we went up slightly higher, but for some reason I was struck with fear and found things quite difficult. I fell over in an extremely steep place, and found myself lying in the cold very wet snow. I'd taken off my anorak since it was so hot, so it was a very wet experience, not to mention quite a slidy procedure getting upright again. I did the rest of the long slope with no difficulty, but my legs were very shaky and my shirt was very wet, so we went home.
On Tuesday, we decided it would be better for me to concentrate on getting my turns right so as to avoid any more lying down in the snow; also, my leg muscles were aching, so I felt it would be better not to tax them too much. The day was even hotter, so we have left off the thermals, and today I wore a fleece rather than my anorak and was still too hot. I only skied in the morning, as my muscles are protesting quite a bit. Of course, we only started in the gym again when we got back from Sicily in October, and my last gym visit was at the end of November before we went to Manchester and I got bronchitis. Now I am both fat and unfit - no wonder my poor body objects! Also, my turns were not as good as they were yesterday, and I found it difficult to get my edges in and my turns are no longer parallel. I have no idea why my skills sometimes seem to go backwards!
I had a nice relaxing afternoon and Paul went off to find all the scary black runs. The wonderful thing about this apartment is the view, it is truly beautiful and is even more so at the moment because the sky is so blue and the light is so wonderful, so there's a lot of pleasure in just sitting and looking. With it being so hot, the snow isn't great, but it's not like spring snow just yet. I miss the lovely crisp powdery snow in Colorado. What we need is a really nice big dump of snow - preferably at night when we are snug indoors!
Well, I managed to publish one photo on Sunday, the wonderful view from our balcony. You can't see them in my photo, because the light wasn't right, but we are right opposite the two half pipes; from our balcony, we can watch the snow boarders doing acrobatics. I may try another balcony photo in the morning light and see what I can capture in different light. Since it seemed I could publish a photo or text, but not both, I'll try with two photos and almost no text, and see how that works. If it doesn't, I may have to do photos singly.
I did have my first day on the snow yesterday, and it began well. It was a wonderful blue sky day, in fact it was very hot. I started off, as usual, in the beginners' area, which in this case has two 'magic carpets' and a button lift, so you can get quite high up the hill, though they are rather badly planned; they are on opposite sides of the slope, with a shuffle up the hill between the top of one and the bottom of the next. Anyway, I was able to practise my turns, and seemed to be able to remember what to do; all the walking across the slope was rather tiring, so we bought lift tickets and went high up the hill in the Télécabine - the gondola. Then I skied all the way down and felt quite pleased with my progress. After lunch, we went up slightly higher, but for some reason I was struck with fear and found things quite difficult. I fell over in an extremely steep place, and found myself lying in the cold very wet snow. I'd taken off my anorak since it was so hot, so it was a very wet experience, not to mention quite a slidy procedure getting upright again. I did the rest of the long slope with no difficulty, but my legs were very shaky and my shirt was very wet, so we went home.
On Tuesday, we decided it would be better for me to concentrate on getting my turns right so as to avoid any more lying down in the snow; also, my leg muscles were aching, so I felt it would be better not to tax them too much. The day was even hotter, so we have left off the thermals, and today I wore a fleece rather than my anorak and was still too hot. I only skied in the morning, as my muscles are protesting quite a bit. Of course, we only started in the gym again when we got back from Sicily in October, and my last gym visit was at the end of November before we went to Manchester and I got bronchitis. Now I am both fat and unfit - no wonder my poor body objects! Also, my turns were not as good as they were yesterday, and I found it difficult to get my edges in and my turns are no longer parallel. I have no idea why my skills sometimes seem to go backwards!
I had a nice relaxing afternoon and Paul went off to find all the scary black runs. The wonderful thing about this apartment is the view, it is truly beautiful and is even more so at the moment because the sky is so blue and the light is so wonderful, so there's a lot of pleasure in just sitting and looking. With it being so hot, the snow isn't great, but it's not like spring snow just yet. I miss the lovely crisp powdery snow in Colorado. What we need is a really nice big dump of snow - preferably at night when we are snug indoors!
Sunday, 6 January 2013
Trial photo
Im trying to see if I can publish any photos at all. This is the view from our apartment.
Day 1 in La Plagne
Sunday 6th January
It has been a big disappointment to me not to be able to post even a single photo using this stupid Internet connection - and it cost me £25 for a week, which would be expensive even for a decent connection. This one drops out every few minutes, necessitating constant re-logins with a password that looks a bit like a Polish word - it's a string of consonants without a single vowel, and I have very little hope of remembering it.
This morning we woke at 10.30! We must have been completely exhausted. As there was no food at all, Paul made a quick trip to the supermarket for breakfast food while I was 'showering'. (shower head fixed half way up the wall over the bath, about shoulder height on me. No shower curtain. No bathmats in towel pack - supplement €9 you recall) He could not find any bread - there is supposed to be a separate bakery, which he could not find either.
He bought some part-baked bread which you have to finish in the oven. We have no oven. We have what is supposed to be a combination oven/microwave with no instructions, so I made an educated guess. Not educated enough! Can you imagine what a loaf of French bread microwaved for 10 minutes might look like? Neither could I, but I know now! It looks a bit brown but otherwise OK on the outside, but is dark brown and has the consistency of a stick inside.
We had coffee and cereal and a slice of ready-sliced bread which he had bought as a fall back, also a pain au chocolate - he found a pack of those, though we don't intend to eat many such things for breakfast - we are too fat already.
We found a few other problems. There's nothing quite as satisfying as a good moan! There are no big cups, so if you want a proper cup of tea or coffee, you have to use a bowl - but I suppose that's the proper French way. You don't need a cup handle if you have your coffee luke-warm. The filter coffee maker delivers luke-warm coffee (that's why we have an insulated cafetière at home.) Here, we will have to heat it up in the microwave (as long as it's not too hot that you can't pick up the bowl. If you want to pick up the bowl, the coffee needs to be luke-warm. This feels quite circular...)
The safe is locked shut and we couldn't open it. We later discovered this was because you have to pay extra to use the safe. We didn't know where our ski locker was, but have now found it. It is locked up at 7 every night, which is why we couldn't find it yesterday. There was hot water in the morning, but there doesn't seem to be any in the afternoon or evening. And you only seem to find these problems when Reception is closed. It's usually closed. And we have just noticed that the TV controller is supplied without batteries. But my main moan at present is that I paid through the nose for a really crap Internet connection, which is too flaky even to post one photograph.
I've just tried again, with a photo of the wonderful view from our balcony, but no joy. I might try again with a single photo and no text.
After breakfast, we made a list of food and staples we needed and made a proper trip to the Supermarket, staggering back with full bags. Then we consulted the resort map and found the bakery, and bought some bread. We didn't feel like lunch, so we had a wander about to look at the pistes and lifts, and got hold of a piste map so we could see where there might be suitable easy pistes for me. I wasn't feeling too confident, as it has been a wonderful sunny day so the snow is melting and it is quite icy and slippery underfoot.
In the end, as it was after 2 by then, I didn't go out. Paul took a trip up the hill and skied a lot of the pistes and trails so as to find something which wouldn't freak me out completely. There are very few black runs to satisfy Paul, so he intends to devote this holiday to my skiing, before going off by himself to have a proper ski holiday. And I spent my afternoon getting this blog up-to-date.
It has been a big disappointment to me not to be able to post even a single photo using this stupid Internet connection - and it cost me £25 for a week, which would be expensive even for a decent connection. This one drops out every few minutes, necessitating constant re-logins with a password that looks a bit like a Polish word - it's a string of consonants without a single vowel, and I have very little hope of remembering it.
This morning we woke at 10.30! We must have been completely exhausted. As there was no food at all, Paul made a quick trip to the supermarket for breakfast food while I was 'showering'. (shower head fixed half way up the wall over the bath, about shoulder height on me. No shower curtain. No bathmats in towel pack - supplement €9 you recall) He could not find any bread - there is supposed to be a separate bakery, which he could not find either.
He bought some part-baked bread which you have to finish in the oven. We have no oven. We have what is supposed to be a combination oven/microwave with no instructions, so I made an educated guess. Not educated enough! Can you imagine what a loaf of French bread microwaved for 10 minutes might look like? Neither could I, but I know now! It looks a bit brown but otherwise OK on the outside, but is dark brown and has the consistency of a stick inside.
We had coffee and cereal and a slice of ready-sliced bread which he had bought as a fall back, also a pain au chocolate - he found a pack of those, though we don't intend to eat many such things for breakfast - we are too fat already.
We found a few other problems. There's nothing quite as satisfying as a good moan! There are no big cups, so if you want a proper cup of tea or coffee, you have to use a bowl - but I suppose that's the proper French way. You don't need a cup handle if you have your coffee luke-warm. The filter coffee maker delivers luke-warm coffee (that's why we have an insulated cafetière at home.) Here, we will have to heat it up in the microwave (as long as it's not too hot that you can't pick up the bowl. If you want to pick up the bowl, the coffee needs to be luke-warm. This feels quite circular...)
The safe is locked shut and we couldn't open it. We later discovered this was because you have to pay extra to use the safe. We didn't know where our ski locker was, but have now found it. It is locked up at 7 every night, which is why we couldn't find it yesterday. There was hot water in the morning, but there doesn't seem to be any in the afternoon or evening. And you only seem to find these problems when Reception is closed. It's usually closed. And we have just noticed that the TV controller is supplied without batteries. But my main moan at present is that I paid through the nose for a really crap Internet connection, which is too flaky even to post one photograph.
I've just tried again, with a photo of the wonderful view from our balcony, but no joy. I might try again with a single photo and no text.
After breakfast, we made a list of food and staples we needed and made a proper trip to the Supermarket, staggering back with full bags. Then we consulted the resort map and found the bakery, and bought some bread. We didn't feel like lunch, so we had a wander about to look at the pistes and lifts, and got hold of a piste map so we could see where there might be suitable easy pistes for me. I wasn't feeling too confident, as it has been a wonderful sunny day so the snow is melting and it is quite icy and slippery underfoot.
In the end, as it was after 2 by then, I didn't go out. Paul took a trip up the hill and skied a lot of the pistes and trails so as to find something which wouldn't freak me out completely. There are very few black runs to satisfy Paul, so he intends to devote this holiday to my skiing, before going off by himself to have a proper ski holiday. And I spent my afternoon getting this blog up-to-date.
Setting off to ski
Saturday 5th January
As I am not so fond of flying, I had persuaded Paul we should use the Eurostar to go skiing. This was a little complicated, as La Plagne mostly seems to expect the clients to come on a package tour, or else to fly or drive. So it was difficult to find a bus which we could take up to the resort from the nearest station. About a week before we left, the bus company seemed to have had a change of heart and said there would be a bus which would leave the station at 18.55 and would be suitable for our train which arrived at 6.30; we just hoped there would be no delays!
We arose in the dark and rushed around madly until our taxi arrived somewhat before 7am. It was fortunate we were early at the station as our train was cancelled but fortunately we were just in time to catch the one before it. About half way to London, Paul realised he had left his folder behind containing, along with our schedule, the bus tickets without which we would not be allowed on the bus! There was nothing we could do at that point, so we just had to make the best of it.
We arrived at St Pancras 45 minutes before our check-in time, so we went to a café which had free Wi-Fi and managed to download the bus ticket. Then I read the paragraph which said the ticket had to be printed on A4 paper, and would not be accepted on-screen! We consulted the very sympathetic waiter in the café (nice place, dreadful coffee) who recommended the Information Desk, and they very kindly printed the ticket for Paul. So we had overcome that particular problem, and were able to check in.
The train set off and made good speed until we got to the Channel Tunnel. Then we sat outside the Tunnel for some time, and were eventually told we could not proceed because there was 'a metal object' on the line inside the tunnel. A shuttle was sent out to retrieve this - I imagine it was probably something which fell off a train; then we were on our way again, but 45 minutes late.
For the rest of the journey we speculated on what we would do if the bus had left before the train reached the station. The Train Manager announced that buses from Moutiers and Bourg St Maurice would wait for the train, but he didn't mention Aime, where we were going. As we were still in the train at 6.55 when the bus was due to leave, we were not hopeful. My sister wondered if we'd have to walk up to the resort (18 km., dragging baggage and a huge ski box).
The bus company, bless them, had sent a taxi for a number of who had missed the bus. One of them had flown from Manchester, and his story made me very glad that our son and his wife had, after initially thinking that they would like to come with us, had decided that our grandson was too small and it would be better to wait until he was older. Our fellow taxi passenger had flown from Manchester at 7am and only arrived at 7pm! Imagine what that journey would have been like with a very active 20 month old!
There was fog at the airport at Chambery so the plane from Manchester, after circling for a while, was diverted to Lyons. They waited at Lyons for some hours for transport to Chambery or the resorts, then eventually the fog cleared so they were allowed to fly to Chambery. However, it was then found that there was no transport from there to the resorts, since it was by then afternoon and the plane had been expected at 10am. So the man we spoke to ended up going on a coach to Aime and ended up on the same taxi to La Plagne as us, at just after 7pm! That was the time it took us, coming by train.
It's a long and winding road up to the resort, so it was nearly 8pm when we arrived and the Reception in the building where we had taken an apartment was just closing. In her hurry, the woman at Reception forgot to tell us where the master switch for the electricity was - and we didn't know we needed to know it! She also said it was too late to give us towels and sheets and we would have to go to a different Reception for that.
We found the apartment on the 6th floor and went in. But everything was in darkness and there was no light so we were reduced to using my phone as a torch (Paul's phone battery had run out...) We searched and searched but still couldn't find the master switch and, when Paul went down again, Reception was closed. We were wandering the corridors seeking enlightenment (pun!) when we saw a man coming along the corridor the other way. He showed us the master switch in his apartment (over the front door, at ceiling level) and fortunately it was the same in our apartment. It was too high for me to reach, but Paul managed it. So at least we had light.
We left our suitcases and went out seeking our sheets and towels. Everywhere was closed and quiet, and we could not find it anywhere. After much solitary wandering and directions given by two different people we eventually found the other Reception, and got our sheets and towels. But we could see, as we walked back, that the supermarket was closed. So we dumped our sheets and towels and went seeking food, there being nothing in the apartment - not even a grain of salt, must remember to buy that...
We found a bar which was open and had a bar meal which was quite acceptable. Then we went home to make our beds and sleep for hours.
The apartment is quite nice, with a wonderful view up the slopes, but would have been an awful squeeze for us if my son and family had arrived. There is a bedroom with two narrow beds and a living room with three couches, which are the other beds. I tried to post a photo of it, but the connection is too poor even to deal with one photo.
There is one bathroom with a separate loo. The towels supplied (supplement €9) are thin and small. There are 2 flat sheets and two blankets for each bed. We were not cold, but I have completely forgotten how to make beds when you don't have a duvet! However, we were both exhausted and fell into bed as soon as we had beds to fall into!
As I am not so fond of flying, I had persuaded Paul we should use the Eurostar to go skiing. This was a little complicated, as La Plagne mostly seems to expect the clients to come on a package tour, or else to fly or drive. So it was difficult to find a bus which we could take up to the resort from the nearest station. About a week before we left, the bus company seemed to have had a change of heart and said there would be a bus which would leave the station at 18.55 and would be suitable for our train which arrived at 6.30; we just hoped there would be no delays!
We arose in the dark and rushed around madly until our taxi arrived somewhat before 7am. It was fortunate we were early at the station as our train was cancelled but fortunately we were just in time to catch the one before it. About half way to London, Paul realised he had left his folder behind containing, along with our schedule, the bus tickets without which we would not be allowed on the bus! There was nothing we could do at that point, so we just had to make the best of it.
We arrived at St Pancras 45 minutes before our check-in time, so we went to a café which had free Wi-Fi and managed to download the bus ticket. Then I read the paragraph which said the ticket had to be printed on A4 paper, and would not be accepted on-screen! We consulted the very sympathetic waiter in the café (nice place, dreadful coffee) who recommended the Information Desk, and they very kindly printed the ticket for Paul. So we had overcome that particular problem, and were able to check in.
The train set off and made good speed until we got to the Channel Tunnel. Then we sat outside the Tunnel for some time, and were eventually told we could not proceed because there was 'a metal object' on the line inside the tunnel. A shuttle was sent out to retrieve this - I imagine it was probably something which fell off a train; then we were on our way again, but 45 minutes late.
For the rest of the journey we speculated on what we would do if the bus had left before the train reached the station. The Train Manager announced that buses from Moutiers and Bourg St Maurice would wait for the train, but he didn't mention Aime, where we were going. As we were still in the train at 6.55 when the bus was due to leave, we were not hopeful. My sister wondered if we'd have to walk up to the resort (18 km., dragging baggage and a huge ski box).
The bus company, bless them, had sent a taxi for a number of who had missed the bus. One of them had flown from Manchester, and his story made me very glad that our son and his wife had, after initially thinking that they would like to come with us, had decided that our grandson was too small and it would be better to wait until he was older. Our fellow taxi passenger had flown from Manchester at 7am and only arrived at 7pm! Imagine what that journey would have been like with a very active 20 month old!
There was fog at the airport at Chambery so the plane from Manchester, after circling for a while, was diverted to Lyons. They waited at Lyons for some hours for transport to Chambery or the resorts, then eventually the fog cleared so they were allowed to fly to Chambery. However, it was then found that there was no transport from there to the resorts, since it was by then afternoon and the plane had been expected at 10am. So the man we spoke to ended up going on a coach to Aime and ended up on the same taxi to La Plagne as us, at just after 7pm! That was the time it took us, coming by train.
It's a long and winding road up to the resort, so it was nearly 8pm when we arrived and the Reception in the building where we had taken an apartment was just closing. In her hurry, the woman at Reception forgot to tell us where the master switch for the electricity was - and we didn't know we needed to know it! She also said it was too late to give us towels and sheets and we would have to go to a different Reception for that.
We found the apartment on the 6th floor and went in. But everything was in darkness and there was no light so we were reduced to using my phone as a torch (Paul's phone battery had run out...) We searched and searched but still couldn't find the master switch and, when Paul went down again, Reception was closed. We were wandering the corridors seeking enlightenment (pun!) when we saw a man coming along the corridor the other way. He showed us the master switch in his apartment (over the front door, at ceiling level) and fortunately it was the same in our apartment. It was too high for me to reach, but Paul managed it. So at least we had light.
We left our suitcases and went out seeking our sheets and towels. Everywhere was closed and quiet, and we could not find it anywhere. After much solitary wandering and directions given by two different people we eventually found the other Reception, and got our sheets and towels. But we could see, as we walked back, that the supermarket was closed. So we dumped our sheets and towels and went seeking food, there being nothing in the apartment - not even a grain of salt, must remember to buy that...
We found a bar which was open and had a bar meal which was quite acceptable. Then we went home to make our beds and sleep for hours.
The apartment is quite nice, with a wonderful view up the slopes, but would have been an awful squeeze for us if my son and family had arrived. There is a bedroom with two narrow beds and a living room with three couches, which are the other beds. I tried to post a photo of it, but the connection is too poor even to deal with one photo.
There is one bathroom with a separate loo. The towels supplied (supplement €9) are thin and small. There are 2 flat sheets and two blankets for each bed. We were not cold, but I have completely forgotten how to make beds when you don't have a duvet! However, we were both exhausted and fell into bed as soon as we had beds to fall into!
The end of 2012
December 2012
As you might imagine, the middle of December was not an easy time for any of us. We were knocked sideways by my cousin's murder, and the circumstances were particularly awful. I was not at all well, and I had by this time passed my bronchitis on to Paul, so both of us were lying in bed, hardly able to raise our heads from the pillow. I don't think making long trips up to London to talk to the medical team on what were some of the coldest days of the year did my bronchitis any good, and I couldn't help thinking, as I sat coughing and retching in the relatives' room in Intensive Care, that I sounded a whole lot worse than most of those occupying beds there! At least nobody was expecting me to do anything - Douglas' partner and another close friend are his executors.
On Tuesday 18th I declared myself well again and went to work! I had already made an arrangement to do my consultation bit - visiting a couple of the many hospitals that the University Medical School where I used to work send students on placement. The hospitals are supposed to meet a certain standard for computers available to the medical students so that they can complete their academic work. They need special software so the students can access their own University desktop; they need to access medical journals for which the university pays and the NHS doesn't, and as access is usually by IP address rather than by password, they need first to attach to a university desktop. They also need access to their limited university storage space - and as the specially encrypted NHS USB keys they would have to use for personal file storage are very expensive, most of them don't seem to buy them.
The computers I had to inspect are incredibly spread out - a group in the library, a small group in the doctors' residence, some more in a room off a ward, two outside Casualty and so on, so miles needed to be walked. And one needs an NHS student login to access some of them, and a library login to access others, and most are in areas which are card access only, so one can't go alone. I needed to go round with a member of staff.
I visited two different hospitals north of London, about a 30 minute drive apart, so it was reasonably complicated - not to mention incredibly tedious. Many computers have to be tested individually - can they print, does the sound work, can students access their e-learning materials, is the special software present, does it work, is there an appropriately configured shortcut on the desktop or if not, can one be downloaded from my web page? (Some desktops have been locked, so no downloads of shortcuts are possible). A detailed report is necessary on the state of individual computers. It's nothing at all difficult and quite tedious, but it is vital. I have a lot more hospitals to visit, after the Christmas break is over and once I am back from France.
I still didn't feel great, so wasn't inclined for much Christmas shopping. So most of Christmas was delivered in a van - thank goodness for the Internet! I did manage a quick visit to London to one of the Christmas markets, but I found I hadn't much stamina, so it was a very short visit.
Christmas itself was quite busy. My son and daughter-in-law and my grandson arrived on Sunday 23rd. On Christmas Eve my sister and my elder son arrived. He arrived minus his wife, who had gone to somewhere in the Midlands to consult with her family about her aunt's funeral - the aunt had died a couple of days before Christmas. My elder son was only able to stay one night, as there was nobody to look after his cats, and he went home late on Christmas Day to pacify his lonely moggies. We had invited the cats for Christmas too, but apparently they don't like to travel and yowl loudly in protest.
We had hoped to be able to get out of the house over the holiday and do a bit of walking, or at least run about in the garden, but mostly it was too wet even to do that. The rain descended in torrents almost every day, with very few breaks. At least we had been able to go out on Christmas Eve and buy my grandson some Wellington boots so he could run about on the grass in the garden without getting his shoes wet - if it ever stopped raining for more than a few minutes. Still, we had a nice family Christmas, though for some reason I forgot to take any photos at all. Mind you, I probably couldn't post any here, with such a poor connection.
The rest of our guests stayed until Sunday 30th. Both my son and my sister needed to work on New Year's Eve, so they all needed to be home by then. My son and family left before lunch, and my sister in the afternoon.
Once they had all gone, I was able to fill my house with wet washing. The rules of this apartment forbid the hanging of washing outside, so wet sheets and duvet covers can be a bit of a problem. Experience has taught me that I only have space for drying one machine load at a time, so washing 'day' is rather a spread-out experience. We have a washer-dryer, but as far as I can see, it might more properly be called a washer-wetter. It just gulps electricity and things never seem to come out dry.
Our own New Year was quiet - Paul even went to bed early, as he wasn't feeling too great - and I just watched television. Then we had to get ready for our ski holiday in France. Paul was convinced he WAS ready, so left everything until the last minute. It was a bit of a mad rush at the end and he left several vital things behind. One tedious consequence of all the unpacking and re-packing and moving from place to place is that some of my clothing has completely disappeared, notably my ski anorak and ski trousers. I have to use Paul's, as he fortunately has spares of both.
As you might imagine, the middle of December was not an easy time for any of us. We were knocked sideways by my cousin's murder, and the circumstances were particularly awful. I was not at all well, and I had by this time passed my bronchitis on to Paul, so both of us were lying in bed, hardly able to raise our heads from the pillow. I don't think making long trips up to London to talk to the medical team on what were some of the coldest days of the year did my bronchitis any good, and I couldn't help thinking, as I sat coughing and retching in the relatives' room in Intensive Care, that I sounded a whole lot worse than most of those occupying beds there! At least nobody was expecting me to do anything - Douglas' partner and another close friend are his executors.
On Tuesday 18th I declared myself well again and went to work! I had already made an arrangement to do my consultation bit - visiting a couple of the many hospitals that the University Medical School where I used to work send students on placement. The hospitals are supposed to meet a certain standard for computers available to the medical students so that they can complete their academic work. They need special software so the students can access their own University desktop; they need to access medical journals for which the university pays and the NHS doesn't, and as access is usually by IP address rather than by password, they need first to attach to a university desktop. They also need access to their limited university storage space - and as the specially encrypted NHS USB keys they would have to use for personal file storage are very expensive, most of them don't seem to buy them.
The computers I had to inspect are incredibly spread out - a group in the library, a small group in the doctors' residence, some more in a room off a ward, two outside Casualty and so on, so miles needed to be walked. And one needs an NHS student login to access some of them, and a library login to access others, and most are in areas which are card access only, so one can't go alone. I needed to go round with a member of staff.
I visited two different hospitals north of London, about a 30 minute drive apart, so it was reasonably complicated - not to mention incredibly tedious. Many computers have to be tested individually - can they print, does the sound work, can students access their e-learning materials, is the special software present, does it work, is there an appropriately configured shortcut on the desktop or if not, can one be downloaded from my web page? (Some desktops have been locked, so no downloads of shortcuts are possible). A detailed report is necessary on the state of individual computers. It's nothing at all difficult and quite tedious, but it is vital. I have a lot more hospitals to visit, after the Christmas break is over and once I am back from France.
I still didn't feel great, so wasn't inclined for much Christmas shopping. So most of Christmas was delivered in a van - thank goodness for the Internet! I did manage a quick visit to London to one of the Christmas markets, but I found I hadn't much stamina, so it was a very short visit.
Christmas itself was quite busy. My son and daughter-in-law and my grandson arrived on Sunday 23rd. On Christmas Eve my sister and my elder son arrived. He arrived minus his wife, who had gone to somewhere in the Midlands to consult with her family about her aunt's funeral - the aunt had died a couple of days before Christmas. My elder son was only able to stay one night, as there was nobody to look after his cats, and he went home late on Christmas Day to pacify his lonely moggies. We had invited the cats for Christmas too, but apparently they don't like to travel and yowl loudly in protest.
We had hoped to be able to get out of the house over the holiday and do a bit of walking, or at least run about in the garden, but mostly it was too wet even to do that. The rain descended in torrents almost every day, with very few breaks. At least we had been able to go out on Christmas Eve and buy my grandson some Wellington boots so he could run about on the grass in the garden without getting his shoes wet - if it ever stopped raining for more than a few minutes. Still, we had a nice family Christmas, though for some reason I forgot to take any photos at all. Mind you, I probably couldn't post any here, with such a poor connection.
The rest of our guests stayed until Sunday 30th. Both my son and my sister needed to work on New Year's Eve, so they all needed to be home by then. My son and family left before lunch, and my sister in the afternoon.
Once they had all gone, I was able to fill my house with wet washing. The rules of this apartment forbid the hanging of washing outside, so wet sheets and duvet covers can be a bit of a problem. Experience has taught me that I only have space for drying one machine load at a time, so washing 'day' is rather a spread-out experience. We have a washer-dryer, but as far as I can see, it might more properly be called a washer-wetter. It just gulps electricity and things never seem to come out dry.
Our own New Year was quiet - Paul even went to bed early, as he wasn't feeling too great - and I just watched television. Then we had to get ready for our ski holiday in France. Paul was convinced he WAS ready, so left everything until the last minute. It was a bit of a mad rush at the end and he left several vital things behind. One tedious consequence of all the unpacking and re-packing and moving from place to place is that some of my clothing has completely disappeared, notably my ski anorak and ski trousers. I have to use Paul's, as he fortunately has spares of both.
Disturbing events at the end of 2012
Late November - early December
I know I haven't posted anything for months, and I do have accounts of a couple of days out to post, with photos. But I am currently in France, with a really terrible Internet connection, so I am far from sure photos will post, so I may delay that until I get back.
We had hardly had any time for days out after we returned from Sicily, and the weather had been terrible anyway. Also we had been doing a bit of travelling up to Manchester and back, so somehow our days were very full. On Friday 30th November we set off for Manchester quite early in the morning. I didn't switch on the iPad until evening, when I got the shocking news that my cousin Douglas had been attacked by a deranged person the previous day and was gravely ill in hospital.
My cousin Douglas, who lived in West Hampstead, was registered blind. About 11 or 12 years ago, he got meningitis and shingles at the same time, and was in hospital for months. He was very ill indeed and was not expected to live. My uncle, his father, was told there was nothing more that could be done, apart from palliative care. Then, a few days later, he was offered a new and experimental treatment and against all the odds, it worked and Douglas survived. However, he had lost almost all of his sight.
Because he was registered blind, he had to retire before he was 50 and to try and make some sort of life for himself as a blind person, which he must have found difficult. He was a very intelligent man, with a PhD in Chemistry and he had had a very high powered job involving a lot of international travel, so it was a devastating blow. He suddenly found himself dealing with disability payments and care workers and visits to Day Centres - if he could find somebody to take him there.
My cousin had always been quite an abrasive personality, but we were all filled with admiration about the way he coped with what had happened to him. We never once heard him complain, and he was always full of hilarious stories about his exploits. He utilised the abrasive part of his personality in dealing with the quality of the care he received. He had us in constant stitches with his stories, like the one about the poor care worker who spoke no English but was supposed to microwave his meals-on-wheels meal for him. The care worker couldn't read the instructions, which were in English; and Douglas himself couldn't read the instructions, being blind! I can't quite remember how he coped with that one! He maintained both a blog and a twitter account, so if I can find the information about both, I will post it here.
Anyway, Douglas did make a life for himself, and filled it with activity. At the Day Centre, he learned to paint - he had some peripheral vision. We always got a hand painted Christmas card from him. I wish now I had kept them. He got himself a long white stick with a bulb on the end and managed to walk about in his own street and woe betide anybody who didn't give him a wide berth, they were likely to be bashed with the stick! He got himself a computer and the software to read text to him. He signed up with the Open University and after some years got a BA in various Arts subjects; he completed this 2 or 3 years ago.
On 29th November a deranged person attacked him in the street outside his house, and he very nearly died at the scene. He was rushed to hospital where he had an operation to remove part of his skull so as to relieve pressure on his brain. On subsequent days he had an operation to repair his palate, and later he had a tracheotomy to help him breathe. He was in an induced coma, in which he remained for some days.
We couldn't rush back to London as we had agreed to cover for our daughter-in-law who had to be back to the hospital herself the following Tuesday. Anyway, with Douglas in a coma there was nothing much we could have done, except provide some relief to his partner. So we returned from Manchester on Wednesday December 5th and the next day I went up to London. I wasn't feeling too good myself by then; our grandson had been coughing like mad, and the GP said it was viral tonsillitis. So when I started 'flu-like symptoms and exhibited a graveyard cough, we assumed it was the same; it wasn't, it was bronchitis, but I didn't find that out until the following week. I had a medical appointment on another matter late in the day, so I was able to visit Douglas in St Mary's Hospital Paddington before my own appointment.
Douglas was still in the induced coma, though the doctors had decided to reduce the drug which induced the coma to see if he would wake up. He certainly looked in a bad way. He was in Intensive Care and connected to a lot of machines. The attacker had jumped on his head, crushing and fracturing his skull, and part of his skull was still missing. It would need a metal plate if he survived, as the exposed brain was currently only covered with skin. He would also need operations to repair his jaw, which was fractured in several places, and to plate his cheekbones.
I felt at the time that he was able to hear us - I'm sure there was some reaction to our voices, though the doctors seemed less sure. But we were talking about the attack and his pulse rate changed and I could swear an expression of fear passed across his face. There was a meeting with the doctors later at which they described reducing the coma-inducing drugs, but I had to leave before the end as otherwise I wouldn't make my own appointment. (Apparently my current stomach problems are caused because I have developed a hiatus hernia - it's a sort of pouch at the top of the stomach - and I will probably have to take a drug to calm the inflammation and production of stomach acid for the rest of my life. This pales into insignificance when compared with my cousin's problems)
I returned home and went straight to bed, where I remained, feeling worse and worse, for some days. As I seemed to be getting no better, I went to my GP after the weekend and he diagnosed bronchitis and prescribed an antibiotic.
On Tuesday (December 11th) I was supposed to be back up in London for a meeting with the Police Liaison Officer, and the doctors asked for a meeting too. Although I felt truly terrible, and had quite a high fever, I somehow got myself onto the train and back up to Paddington, where the meeting with the doctors was quite devastating. There were 4 of us there, me, my sister, Douglas' partner and another of his friends. Douglas had not recovered consciousness, and brain scans showed that the brain damage was very severe indeed. It was possible that he would never regain consciousness, but if he did, he would probably be bedridden and need 24 hour care, including every sort of personal care, and he would have lost any peripheral vision he had had, and might be deaf as well. This did not seem a future that anyone would want to contemplate, so all 4 of us agreed with the doctor's opinion that the best course would be to turn off all the machines and allow him to die naturally. We went in to see him, but this time it seemed to me that Douglas wasn't there at all; there was no response to our voices or to touch. The machines were switched off the next day, and he died the following day, December 13th, in the early morning.
We found out a bit more informaton from the Police Liaison Officer. As the police had no difficulty in catching the deranged attacker, there may well be a trial if he is judged fit to plead. He is an 18 year old German with mental health problems; he confessed not only to the attack on Douglas, but to murdering another man in Germany before he left there. He is currently in custody.
What happened seems really quite bizarre. The shingles from which Douglas suffered along with the meningitis left him with some skin problems on his face and head and it also left his eyes very inflamed and sore. It was apparently Douglas' appearance which attracted the attention of this young man. Douglas had been to visit the National Portrait Gallery just off Trafalgar Square, where they have special tours for the visually impaired; a volunteer takes them around and describes the pictures for them, and Douglas took advantage of this whenever he could. After his tour, the volunteer took him down to Charing Cross Station so he could catch the Tube home.
The young German was in London as a tourist, and was visiting Trafalgar Square. He saw Douglas, and for some reason thought he was not really blind. He also told the police he could tell that Douglas was a very evil man - I assume that might be partly because of the swollen red eyes - so he decided to kill him. He followed him in the tube all the way home. This must have involved a change of tube; I'm not sure how Douglas handled that, he wouldn't be able to manage on his own, but I guess the station staff helped him. Anyway, apparently the police have the young man on various CCTVs following Douglas home. He must have followed him on foot all the way down from the tube station nearest to his house, which is almost a mile, before attacking him on his doorstep. He knocked him to the ground and jumped on his head, crushing and fracturing his skull.
If Douglas had not been so independent and so determined to make a life for himself without relying totally on others, I daresay it might never have happened. But he was never one to sit around in the house and do nothing. As I said, he never complained about the blindness destroying his life, he just got on with it and made himself a different life. There were many things he couldn't do - travel was beyond him for instance; he needed a guide in any unfamiliar place. But he was determined not to be a prisoner and did whatever he could, and he thought he knew his own street well enough to feel safe there.
We do not know when the funeral will be; there has been a postmortem and there might need to be a second. (The defence can request a second postmortem on their behalf, though it seems unlikely in this case). The police tell us that they are not likely to release the body for some months, as his brain has been sent away for further analysis; so the funeral will be delayed until the body can be released. He will be buried with his parents up in Edinburgh, (we are a Scottish family) but this not likely to be until the end of February at the earliest, perhaps even March. His partner is organising both this and the memorial service in London for his London friends, which is set for later in January.
This post, all rather serious and disturbing, is more than long enough already, so I will post it and continue later.
I know I haven't posted anything for months, and I do have accounts of a couple of days out to post, with photos. But I am currently in France, with a really terrible Internet connection, so I am far from sure photos will post, so I may delay that until I get back.
We had hardly had any time for days out after we returned from Sicily, and the weather had been terrible anyway. Also we had been doing a bit of travelling up to Manchester and back, so somehow our days were very full. On Friday 30th November we set off for Manchester quite early in the morning. I didn't switch on the iPad until evening, when I got the shocking news that my cousin Douglas had been attacked by a deranged person the previous day and was gravely ill in hospital.
My cousin Douglas, who lived in West Hampstead, was registered blind. About 11 or 12 years ago, he got meningitis and shingles at the same time, and was in hospital for months. He was very ill indeed and was not expected to live. My uncle, his father, was told there was nothing more that could be done, apart from palliative care. Then, a few days later, he was offered a new and experimental treatment and against all the odds, it worked and Douglas survived. However, he had lost almost all of his sight.
Because he was registered blind, he had to retire before he was 50 and to try and make some sort of life for himself as a blind person, which he must have found difficult. He was a very intelligent man, with a PhD in Chemistry and he had had a very high powered job involving a lot of international travel, so it was a devastating blow. He suddenly found himself dealing with disability payments and care workers and visits to Day Centres - if he could find somebody to take him there.
My cousin had always been quite an abrasive personality, but we were all filled with admiration about the way he coped with what had happened to him. We never once heard him complain, and he was always full of hilarious stories about his exploits. He utilised the abrasive part of his personality in dealing with the quality of the care he received. He had us in constant stitches with his stories, like the one about the poor care worker who spoke no English but was supposed to microwave his meals-on-wheels meal for him. The care worker couldn't read the instructions, which were in English; and Douglas himself couldn't read the instructions, being blind! I can't quite remember how he coped with that one! He maintained both a blog and a twitter account, so if I can find the information about both, I will post it here.
Anyway, Douglas did make a life for himself, and filled it with activity. At the Day Centre, he learned to paint - he had some peripheral vision. We always got a hand painted Christmas card from him. I wish now I had kept them. He got himself a long white stick with a bulb on the end and managed to walk about in his own street and woe betide anybody who didn't give him a wide berth, they were likely to be bashed with the stick! He got himself a computer and the software to read text to him. He signed up with the Open University and after some years got a BA in various Arts subjects; he completed this 2 or 3 years ago.
On 29th November a deranged person attacked him in the street outside his house, and he very nearly died at the scene. He was rushed to hospital where he had an operation to remove part of his skull so as to relieve pressure on his brain. On subsequent days he had an operation to repair his palate, and later he had a tracheotomy to help him breathe. He was in an induced coma, in which he remained for some days.
We couldn't rush back to London as we had agreed to cover for our daughter-in-law who had to be back to the hospital herself the following Tuesday. Anyway, with Douglas in a coma there was nothing much we could have done, except provide some relief to his partner. So we returned from Manchester on Wednesday December 5th and the next day I went up to London. I wasn't feeling too good myself by then; our grandson had been coughing like mad, and the GP said it was viral tonsillitis. So when I started 'flu-like symptoms and exhibited a graveyard cough, we assumed it was the same; it wasn't, it was bronchitis, but I didn't find that out until the following week. I had a medical appointment on another matter late in the day, so I was able to visit Douglas in St Mary's Hospital Paddington before my own appointment.
Douglas was still in the induced coma, though the doctors had decided to reduce the drug which induced the coma to see if he would wake up. He certainly looked in a bad way. He was in Intensive Care and connected to a lot of machines. The attacker had jumped on his head, crushing and fracturing his skull, and part of his skull was still missing. It would need a metal plate if he survived, as the exposed brain was currently only covered with skin. He would also need operations to repair his jaw, which was fractured in several places, and to plate his cheekbones.
I felt at the time that he was able to hear us - I'm sure there was some reaction to our voices, though the doctors seemed less sure. But we were talking about the attack and his pulse rate changed and I could swear an expression of fear passed across his face. There was a meeting with the doctors later at which they described reducing the coma-inducing drugs, but I had to leave before the end as otherwise I wouldn't make my own appointment. (Apparently my current stomach problems are caused because I have developed a hiatus hernia - it's a sort of pouch at the top of the stomach - and I will probably have to take a drug to calm the inflammation and production of stomach acid for the rest of my life. This pales into insignificance when compared with my cousin's problems)
I returned home and went straight to bed, where I remained, feeling worse and worse, for some days. As I seemed to be getting no better, I went to my GP after the weekend and he diagnosed bronchitis and prescribed an antibiotic.
On Tuesday (December 11th) I was supposed to be back up in London for a meeting with the Police Liaison Officer, and the doctors asked for a meeting too. Although I felt truly terrible, and had quite a high fever, I somehow got myself onto the train and back up to Paddington, where the meeting with the doctors was quite devastating. There were 4 of us there, me, my sister, Douglas' partner and another of his friends. Douglas had not recovered consciousness, and brain scans showed that the brain damage was very severe indeed. It was possible that he would never regain consciousness, but if he did, he would probably be bedridden and need 24 hour care, including every sort of personal care, and he would have lost any peripheral vision he had had, and might be deaf as well. This did not seem a future that anyone would want to contemplate, so all 4 of us agreed with the doctor's opinion that the best course would be to turn off all the machines and allow him to die naturally. We went in to see him, but this time it seemed to me that Douglas wasn't there at all; there was no response to our voices or to touch. The machines were switched off the next day, and he died the following day, December 13th, in the early morning.
We found out a bit more informaton from the Police Liaison Officer. As the police had no difficulty in catching the deranged attacker, there may well be a trial if he is judged fit to plead. He is an 18 year old German with mental health problems; he confessed not only to the attack on Douglas, but to murdering another man in Germany before he left there. He is currently in custody.
What happened seems really quite bizarre. The shingles from which Douglas suffered along with the meningitis left him with some skin problems on his face and head and it also left his eyes very inflamed and sore. It was apparently Douglas' appearance which attracted the attention of this young man. Douglas had been to visit the National Portrait Gallery just off Trafalgar Square, where they have special tours for the visually impaired; a volunteer takes them around and describes the pictures for them, and Douglas took advantage of this whenever he could. After his tour, the volunteer took him down to Charing Cross Station so he could catch the Tube home.
The young German was in London as a tourist, and was visiting Trafalgar Square. He saw Douglas, and for some reason thought he was not really blind. He also told the police he could tell that Douglas was a very evil man - I assume that might be partly because of the swollen red eyes - so he decided to kill him. He followed him in the tube all the way home. This must have involved a change of tube; I'm not sure how Douglas handled that, he wouldn't be able to manage on his own, but I guess the station staff helped him. Anyway, apparently the police have the young man on various CCTVs following Douglas home. He must have followed him on foot all the way down from the tube station nearest to his house, which is almost a mile, before attacking him on his doorstep. He knocked him to the ground and jumped on his head, crushing and fracturing his skull.
If Douglas had not been so independent and so determined to make a life for himself without relying totally on others, I daresay it might never have happened. But he was never one to sit around in the house and do nothing. As I said, he never complained about the blindness destroying his life, he just got on with it and made himself a different life. There were many things he couldn't do - travel was beyond him for instance; he needed a guide in any unfamiliar place. But he was determined not to be a prisoner and did whatever he could, and he thought he knew his own street well enough to feel safe there.
We do not know when the funeral will be; there has been a postmortem and there might need to be a second. (The defence can request a second postmortem on their behalf, though it seems unlikely in this case). The police tell us that they are not likely to release the body for some months, as his brain has been sent away for further analysis; so the funeral will be delayed until the body can be released. He will be buried with his parents up in Edinburgh, (we are a Scottish family) but this not likely to be until the end of February at the earliest, perhaps even March. His partner is organising both this and the memorial service in London for his London friends, which is set for later in January.
This post, all rather serious and disturbing, is more than long enough already, so I will post it and continue later.
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