Thought Picnic: God's Grand Plan of Fixing my Slashed Tyre

The plans I made

Despite all I have seen, if I had to be told I live a wonderful life and not realise it myself, I would have failed to count the many blessings, small and large that waylay me at every turn and bring me such happiness, fun, joy and encouragement.

I planned to attend prayer meeting at church this evening and had arranged to meet up with a friend two stations further on to journey together to church.

Usually, I cut it fine with just enough time to ride my bicycle to the station, lock it up and catch the train, but I also needed to get tickets so I made much more allowances for that and just some time.

The plans overturned

I got ready, unchained my bicycle and one look at the front tyre showed that someone had found the bizarrely twisted pleasure to dig in the tyre and slashed the inner tube – that this should happen in front of my house was just cutting, I had never in my 12 years of living in the Netherlands and many times of securing my bicycle outside had my tyres slashed and it is only in my first year that I ever and only once had my bicycle stolen.

I reported the event on Twitter, got sympathy and I never thought it could ever have been a hate crime; my street does have quite an international feel to it.

New plans working fine

Putting my cane together, I walked up to the bus stop informing my friend that I might not catch the pre-arranged train, but I was just in time for the bus, to get my ticket and catch the train. The clouds were looming ready to belch their store of rain and I did not think I was that prepared but my trusty umbrella was in my bag. We met up and travelled to church, my umbrella saving us from getting drenched to the skin.

We were on time to help set up the meeting room and the meeting started as I thought about how to get the bicycle to the repair shop just about 2 kilometres away and how long it would take to repair the bicycle before I could use it again – all sorts of permutations of solutions tried to take away my concentration but I persevered in prayer all the same. The prayer sessions were exciting, different and really edifying before we had a break.

My friend returned home and then I asked another friend residing in my city if I could have a lift back home. That was arranged when I saw that my neighbour arrive for the leadership and volunteers training session.

Altering the plan

After the session, I asked if I could have a ride back home and he obliged, I cancelled the other arrangement, we got in the car where I told him the tale of my slashed bicycle tyre.

He just about encouraged me enough to get my hands dirty after he shared with me how he learnt to be a handyman having known nothing about maintaining and repairing motorbikes just two years before.

I was not sure but I was willing to try, I really did not have to wheel my bicycle to the repair shop or remove the wheel and hump that by bus to the repair shop, I just needed to find out what size of tube I needed, get that from the shop, remove the old tube, take out the wheel, put in the new tube in the tyre, let in some air to set it on the wheel, then put the tyre back on, fix the wheel and then pump the tyre to the right pressure.

The part about letting some air into the tube was quite useful information borne from experience; I was somewhat ready to try something very different.

An unexpected plan

When we got home, I showed him my bicycle as he concluded it was a slashing rather than a mere puncture. He read the measurements for the tyre and then it suddenly occurred to him that he might have a spare tube in his car.

Apparently, a few weeks before, he bought two different sizes of inner tube for his bicycle being unsure of which size will fit and on fitting the right one he had lost the receipt he needed to return the other tube for a refund.

That tube just happened to be the right size for my tyre as I planned that I would fit it on the morrow only wondering about where I might have put my bicycle pump. The lights were down and the dark of the night had come as he offered that we do it there and then.

So I wheeled the bicycle into his backyard and he set up the lights, got out his tool box and disconnecting the brakes, he got out the old tube, loosened the wheel and put in the new tube, applied manly grease to the nuts and threading and basically put my bicycle back together again.

You cannot make up such as story if you wanted to, Buddy who might not have known for sure why he obtained two tubes and that he will have a passenger in his car on his ride back home, but he was the answer to the incongruous, the improbable and literally uncanny – maybe God does move in mysterious ways His wonders to perform, but at the end, it all came together in a grand plan none of us could have contrived.

Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?

I know that I was distraught, probably annoyed and at a time confused as to why anyone would find any pleasure in the wilful destruction of another man’s property but I was never bitter. There was going to be a solution eventually but it never went according to my plan and it was solved long before the day was over without me having to worry much and spend anything apart from the wheeling of the bicycle to the backyard and lifting the wheel ignorantly off the frame before checking where the washers were.

My friend, Buddy was a God-send beyond anything I could have imagined and I was grinning from ear-to-ear after it was all done with care, consideration, charity and kindness in an expression of unconditional love. "Buddy, you've been a great buddy," I said. Yes, that is his wonderful name lived out to reality.

In the last two months, goodness, mercy, kindness, favour and goodwill has chased me down and overtaken me so many times, as a man of faith, I can only say God has my back and has my concerns to mind – it is just amazing that God had already set in motion the plan to fix my slashed tyres long before it happened and it is a wonder how many times we have missed latching onto the good things He has planned for us long before we reached the difficult paths, situations and circumstances we come up against in our daily lives. 

Thought Picnic: Pedalling in veins

Cycling again

Did I say I am back on my bicycle? In fact that was from Sunday morning when I thought I’ll reconnect the back carriage and straighten the handle bars before a careful probably 15km ride to church.

In the end, I probably did just about 60km on Sunday, more leisurely than muscle-grinding graft as each journey for the early and late services for the Lenten period took between 45 minutes to 55 minutes as I varied routes to determine the most optimal.

For the evening ride, I needed to fix the rear light that I thought required the replacement of electric bulb, thankfully, it was just the batteries that needed replacing because the lights were really LEDs.

Quite some damage

On Monday, I visited the hospital for blood tests in readiness for my consultant appointment which was rescheduled for the late evening of the same day in two weeks’ time.

The hand brake on the left handle of my bicycle which controls the rear wheel when applied created a rather howling sound, it was then that I noticed the accident I had just over the week before had broken the part of the fulcrum mechanism of the handle such that the brakes were applied too firmly than necessary – it works but should be replaced.

Getting back to cycling however is very helpful, it means I have the necessary exercise for increase muscle tone in my legs, strengthening my support and meaning I could do without my cane for longer periods of time.

Sides for blood

Then about hospital, I got there in the early afternoon, registered and once again I found myself a bit confused about which arm to put forward. It is strange that distinguishing between my left and right limbs gets me a bit flummoxed at certain times; I then presented my left arm.

I still cannot watch the needle go in but have to will the blood does not stop flowing into the partly vacuum primed vials, I do not think I could entertain another puncture wound as she easily drained out 7 vials.

I have not gotten to see the Catholic pastor for the best part of 7 months now; I hope to be able to see him when next I am in hospital.

Before I left, I went to confirm my rescheduled appointment which will be a late evening one; a Lenten bloodletting can presage delirium – God, give me strength. 

Thought Picnic: Chronicling the sudden end of bicycle journeys

Bicycle accidents

In my first year in the Netherlands, I had 5 bicycle accidents. Some were avoidable but only two involved other parties. A tourist had just walked into a cycle path without looking, it was impossible to stop without hitting him.

As I got up, I was both apologetic and angry, though on realising his folly, he was more apologetic and thankfully, not too much damage was done to either of us. Last year, I had a similar accident, the lady coming out a shop just walked onto the cycle path without looking – there was just no way I could avoid her as I knocked her over, all her shopping splayed on the ground, I was not going at a high enough speed to be dismounted.

The worse accident I had wrote off my bicycle, the front forks holding the wheel were so bent backwards there wasn’t much that could be done to repair the bicycle. I was about to turn into a side-street and I did not see the cyclist coming towards me so we collided and that was the end of that journey.

In another case, this man on a scooter was definitely drunk coming round a curve and just came straight for me, that bicycle was completely written off too.

Not nice on ice

A few years ago, as I rode in winter, there was still some snow on the ground and one had to be careful to avoid the slippery icy parts. About 15 metres before my fall, I could already see myself having that accident, I do not know if it was prescience but I got to that bit of ice and probably did 5 metres of traction or lack of it after my bicycle and I were separated. Thankfully, the only thing that was bruised was my dignity and though there were onlookers none came to help.

Since then, I have avoided riding my bicycle in the snow just for the fear of falling and coming a cropper.

Yesterday looked fine enough, it was sunny, and though cold it did not appear to be freezing, so I got on my bicycle for a ride without much of a care about it.

I was just about 250 metres from home when I took a turn I usually take to on the long stretch of road that leads to my block, something I have done hundreds of times before but this time as I took the turn the tyres lost all traction and there I was on the ground, literally in the middle of the road.

They walked on by

I could not think of why I had an accident there as it took the best part of 10 minutes for me to get my bearings back, pick myself up and then get my bicycle. The two people who passed me must have thought I was drunk, but I don’t drink and none even cared to be concerned.

It bothers me because it is very unlikely I would see such a situation and never get involved, it is just not my nature to “Walk on by” but that is the community I live in and I have noticed that striking difference between Amsterdam and even Cologne to the South in Germany.

Having another look at the area, I saw the glistening reflection of what could only have been ice; innocuous and dangerous – it is what is known as black-ice, usually hardly visible on macadamised roads but treacherous at best, if I had fallen in front of a moving vehicle, their brakes would not have helped. That was close.

Fixing the damage

In any case, when I picked up my bicycle, I noticed the rear light had stopped working; probably the filament in the electric bulb had broken, then the handle bars were no more at 90 degrees to the front wheel – there wasn’t much I could do about that then and the carriage at the back of the bicycle had come off just below the back of the seat as if two bolts had been broken off.

As for the damage to my person, I was quite bruised in a couple of places around my legs but my left knee seemed to have bled through my trousers showing two big red patches.

I hobbled slowly to my home, chained up my bicycle and then inspected the bodily harm done. I did have methylated spirit but the big-baby in me could not contemplate the pain so I cleaned the wound with hydrogen peroxide instead.

Then I found myself riffling through my box of dressings, I learnt a lot about dressings a few years ago and now I was spoilt for choice. In the end I applied a silicone film to the wound, then an absorbent dressing and bandaged the knee. It is still a bit painful and I have a bit of a limp but I think I will be fine.

I should be back on my bicycle in a few days, I hope.

My bandaged knee.

Thought Picnic: These Legs Were Made For Walking

The passage of time

Sometimes, there is so much going on and so much to write about but one is not presented with the inspiration to commit the thoughts and happenings to the structure of a blog.

Milestones and dates have come and gone, some, one wants to remember, others, one will love to forget be those landmarks 31 years, 9 years, 2 years or even 10 months – we count the passage of time for blessing and thankfulness or for dread of a past that would be best part of the long distant past.

The pain and the cane

However, I have been interested in sharing some news about my health. For 8 years, I have used a cane for problems with back-pain initially and then the loss of muscle-mass as a result of the lack of use of my left leg which was most affected by the cancer lesions on my sole.

For over a year, I have struggled with the problems of a weak leg, the exhaustion of walking and a unbalanced gait that resulted from having weaker leg. The cane appeared to steady my walk and give me just that little extra for traction, albeit considerably slower than other pedestrians.

Strength returning

I discovered the fun of cycling about half a year ago and I have gone to places I have never ventured by bicycle unaware that I have to stamina to make such journeys. Maybe it was just the matter of means, opportunity, will and ability, but I have noticed some really good results.

It has now gone 4 weeks since I stopped using my cane, there were times I have packed my 3-piece bolt-up cane in my bag, I do that no more. I have given up the use of the cane and had not need to use even an umbrella for support when I was out the other day.

Not a fashion statement

There are people who have thought the cane was a throw-back to some genteel age of being dandy and proper, much as one did at times have that appearance, the purpose was hardly for fashion or airs.

I would not have thought a time will come when I will not need the cane again and for that I am thankful and grateful to God as well as happy that I am discovering a new age of youthfulness.

That is, I think, a good update to share.

Thought Picnic: Signposts for bicycles bearing West

The life of blogs

What I began in my last blog basically ended up in a narrative about visiting the graveside of a dear friend. That is one thing I have learnt about my blogs, I start to write and they can suddenly take on a life of their own and I just let it continue to the point where it appears to close off to the conclusion.

The main thought that inspired the blog then ends up in another blog and so here goes – I had planned to cycle out to Zandvoort which is at the coast and for once dispel that notion I have always had of beaches needing to be at certain latitude to be allowed the encomium of beach status.

Everywhere bearings awry

The implication being, you need sun along with your sea and sand to have a decent beach, but I was in for a surprise. It was a bit dull and at times the sun came out though there was the threat of rain, a few droplets were not going to dissuade me.

After viewing Google Maps for a basic idea of the distance, I decided I was going to use my bearings and rely on the signposts all along the way from Amsterdam to Haarlem and then to Zandvoort.

I ended up in the strangest places, deserted, desolate and sometimes dangerous, I knew there had to be a better way but I did not deviate from the advice of the bicycle path signposts.

The vista of amazing nature

By the time I got to Haarlem having ridden for the best part of 2 hours, it was comforting to know I still had another 17 kilometres to go, it was not tiring, the determination just kept me on.

Then I got the unusual landscape, the grassy dunes with the signs pointing in all directions that I put on my most English deference and asked a lady who had just blown her dog whistle to summon her dog how to get to the beach.

Another 4 kilometres straight down the path that was far from straight or direct but my bearings were towards the sea, a few double-takes later, the North Sea lay in front of me as I appreciated the wonder of the sea.

The Zuid-Kennemerland National Park

I rode up the promenade towards Bloomendaal aan Zee and then turned into a National Park which seemed to have interminable lengths of bicycle paths and ran for kilometres and kilometres.

The landscape was amazing; I never expected to see forests and the kind of natural features of land and water that I saw in this park especially not in the Netherlands and definitely not in the province of North Holland.

I was in awe and I probably did about 20 kilometres within Zuid-Kennemerland National Park and that hardly covered much of the large expanse of this jewel of nature.

A route so different

When I got back to the entrance some 3 hours later, I saw another signpost on the bicycle path back to Amsterdam, it literally was parallel to the main road back to Amsterdam and this time the 22 kilometre journey back to the outskirts of Amsterdam was without much adventure – a straight road and knowledge gained as to how to get to Zandvoort without getting marooned like the Israelites in the wilderness.

It goes to show once again that the journey of discovery can be quite complicated driven by determination but the return is always a lesson in knowing that there are probably better ways of doing what you tried out earlier.

It has taken me over 11 years to come to the realisation that I do live in quite a beautiful country, however, that depends on the willingness to travel, ride and walk.

Holiday Snaps: The length and the cycle

The name of that thing

Continuing on from where we left off the conservation, the last place where I was accosted included introductions that left me thinking there was something sinister and obscene about the name.

As I returned there this morning, I asked after the chaps I met earlier in the witching hour and the waiter laughed out loud, he was the most silent and detached one of the few I saw before but he recognised me.

It transpired that two African-Americans had fallen for a manhood confidence trick. A particular race is on average blessed to a mythical standard but that does mean that there are none of other races that could be exceptionally gifted.

You’ll always draw the short straw

Their mythical status got the better of them when a dare from this young chap that he had more of length and girth was taken up with money on the table, the African-Americans left with less of a tail between their legs as money went to the chap who could call anyone’s bluff and walk away with the money.

Whilst one has had no reason to complain, it has never been the most gentlemanly of stances to attempt the dare of drawing the shortest straw, there is nothing to prove and the entertainment value soon wears away in deflated egos.

In the spirit of Amsterdam

I crossed the street to get a few bottles of water and then hired a bicycle to ride around town just as the spirit of Amsterdam allows.

Mmy Englishness sometimes got the better of me as signs prohibiting riding in certain areas were first obayed and then when I realised the rules meant nothing or no one was enforcing them, I got on my bicycle and rode the whole length of the promenade to the East first and then to the West some 10km away to another little village.

The pedestrian path was unevenly laid with cobble-stones I felt I was on a bone-shaker cum penny-farthing with hardened tyres of metal and no shock absorption.

Tossed and lost

The freedom to ride can lure you into a confidence than ends in defeat; I thought I had the mountains on the right side when I tried to return via another route, in the end, it appeared the mountains were on all sides, my sense of bearing completely lost.

After marauding for some 30 minutes, I found a tourist office and in the process realised I was caught in my own version of the Israelites’ sojourn in Sinai.

I was nowhere on my way out of the village that I returned more or less to the end of the promenade where I first thought I could veer off on another route – lesson learnt; return by the way that lead you there.

Some 8km later, I was back at my hotel, not too spent, not worse for wear but really quite relieved, I have the bicycle until later, I had better get a decent map before I find myself marooned on an island just because the tide came in when I was trying to be geographically smart.

Cunard Queen Elizabeth in Amsterdam

One look out of my window

A wonderful child-like excitement engulfs my being as I look out of my living-room window towards the left towards the Amsterdam Passenger Terminal.

The late spring and summer months present a spectacle of visitations on the waters that form the harbours of the old Amsterdam port from the sailing school just below my window through the open waters that host the sailing regattas and the then further on where it is deep enough to float ocean going cruise liners.

Satisfying my curiosity

Yesterday, in fact, the day before, there was a huge cruise liner docked at the terminal, I had to see it up close so I cycled up the embankment with my camera to take a few pictures.

That was not enough to observe the cruise liner in all its splendour, I needed to know when it was setting sail again so I for the first time stepped into the terminal and asked at the information desk when it was leaving.

The scheduled time was in another 24 hours at about 17:00 hours, so when I returned home I went online to the check the Cruise Calendar [1] and found out it would be an hour later.

Setting sail

So, yesterday evening, I rode out to see the cruise liner leave and it quite a ceremony weighing anchor that took about 15 minutes and then another 30 minutes to turn the bow astern to sail out of Amsterdam.

It was quite windy and there was a chill in the air as I took pictures from many vantage points and even planned to race the liner to the point where it finally sailed out of Amsterdam and the chain on my bicycle broke just as got behind the central train station which fortunately had a bicycle repair shop in the front.

It was worth it

My pursuit ended with the wheeling of my bicycle to the shop with the hope that I will see the cruise liner when next it docks in Amsterdam.

It was the Cunard Queen Elizabeth [2] with 12 decks that measured the height of 9 storey building, it has a length of 964.5 feet (294m), a width of 106 feet (32.3m) and a draft of 25.9 feet (7.9m) – the draft is the ship’s depth below the water.

We should expect at least 20 cruise liner dockings every month until September with Queen Elizabeth returning later this month and then in October, meanwhile there will be a lot to see until then.

This is my slideshow of pictures taken.

Sources

[1] Passenger Terminal Amsterdam – Cruise Calendar

[2] Queen Elizabeth Cruise Liner Facts : Luxury Cruise Ships : Cunard Cruise Line

Night cycling

The nostalgia of food

The fact is nostalgia runs thick when you have left home for another place. The degree to which you might feel nostalgia might however differ for all sorts of people.

Whilst I have no particular inclination to return to Nigeria, I do enjoy Nigerian food that I either get to cook for myself or order from the gradually improving Obalade Suya in Amsterdam South which seems to have exceeded the African Kitchen in organisation, sophistication and sense of service by far – they even have a website.

Also there is fare from England that you cannot find in Amsterdam supermarkets, from the ordinary things like sliced white bread, through certain cereals and then pork pies amongst other goods – teas, biscuits, puddings, soups to name but a few.

The British shop (Absolutely British) in Amsterdam moved to Amstelveen over a year ago and I usually get there by tram and metro, a journey taking about 45 minutes.

Getting the bike out

This time, I thought I would get on my bicycle and ride out there, the estimated distance using Google Maps was about 11 kilometres from my home but that was using the pedestrian calculation, the journey by car could not be afforded bicycles and the directions by bicycles have not been fully integrated.

So, I thought I had to go due West, then due South keeping a general idea of Amsterdam’s cartography in my head, I did not really miss a turn though I could have made my journey more efficient.

I avoided a mishap where a car that had passed the traffic lights but had been caught in a tailback that was at an intersection, the road cleared in front of the car just when the traffic lights gave me right of way and it was just half a metre from broken bones or a dented bonnet.

The journey took just short of an hour and the ride was leisurely enough not to leave me panting and I stocked up on home goods.

The sleight of lights

On my return journey I got to a sign pointing to Amsterdam Centre but in opposite directions, to the right I could have a river-view ride with less vehicular traffic but it was getting dark.

I pedalled gaining a rhythm that was not too exhausting but met with my pet peeves again and again, the lawless cyclists of Amsterdam.

I would that the police conducted more checks on cyclists at traffic lights who ignore the signs and most especially the ones that ride at night without lights.

It was bad enough that you could not see oncoming bicycles approaching at speed or those coming up from behind so as to take them into consideration, then there were the ones in front who rode oblivious of other road users without high-visibility clothing.

Rules for cyclists broken

The worst situation was with cyclists riding up the wrong way without giving way to those who had right-of-way and I met up with many as I cursed under my breath at the irresponsibility and carelessness of the riders.

I remember that it was my care and concern from a lady cyclist in front of me on a foggy night without lights that held me up the day I got beaten up by drink-and-drug fuelled Moroccans.

It is utterly unacceptable but in Amsterdam cyclists ride as if there are no rules, no laws and they had right of way in all circumstances against cars and public transport.

There is this underlying vice of impatience that pushes them on, they just cannot been seen to stop but some to get stopped and wheeled away, then between the feelings of sympathy and indifference you realise that no matter how fast you are, you are not going beyond your destination – so why the rush?

Electric push-biking in Berlin

Expensive loyalties dispensed of

I have let my Accorhotels card subscription lapse and really I cannot justify that amount spent to retain membership against the benefits one seems to get for EUR 260 a year, there are other loyalty schemes that are free and offer very good deals.

The one advantage I had with the Accor Favourite Guest Card was the late checkout – giving me up to 16:00 hours on the day of departure. The problem with late checkouts is you vegetate rather than attempt to be productive with the time you have before going to the airport.

Novelty bikes and rides

I was out of the hotel by noon, stowed my baggage with the hotel porter and walked up toward Berlin Zoologische Garten when I decided to rent a bicycle instead and arranged to meet up with my friend at Alexanderplatz in the East.

I had the choice of a blood-and-guts pedal bicycle or an electric bicycle, I decided on the novelty of the latter and what a ride it was, by the second stroke the electric motor kicked in and it was a whizz. Berlin has a good few bicycle tracks, it is quite safe to ride without helmets – Tut! Tut!

Met, reclined and visited

We then decided to meet at the Brandenburg Gate, which after going off in some strange direction, I found my bearings enough to get back on course. We met just beside the luxurious Hotel Adlon and the reclined in the tiergarten for about an hour during which we visited the homomonument and the Global Stone Project before going for coffees and blackforest cake in the Moabit area.

It was a pleasant day and on pleasant days one should indeed hire a bicycle, we returned in time to pick up my baggage, checked in early at the counter and had a latte at Starbucks with the utterly creamy carrot cake – not good for the heart at all but wonderful to taste apart from the cream.

Now, I walk through to customs and wait to board my flight back to Amsterdam.

Laughter follows my hospital visit

Back to the hospital

And so I conducted my first visit back to the hospital yesterday under my own steam to have blood taken which would determine the next course of treatment, like additional chemotherapy or how else readings of my blood condition had changed.

When I was leaving the hospital two Fridays ago, I had promised the lady of 85 in my ward that I would visit her and so I bought some chocolates and quite a lot of chocolates for the nurses on the B.06 section of the hospital.

First, I got a blank card where with a thick felt-tipped pen I listed out the 14 names of the nurses and then thanked them for their care, compassion, concern and professionalism, addressing it to the wonderful and amazing nurses of B.06 OLVG.

Mobility by bike and crutches

It is easier to get around on a bicycle but I had to find out how to carry my crutches, I got a marker to mark the points at which the height and elbow grips are set and found I could collapse both crutches to just about 70 cm in length.

I then placed the crutches on the bike load platform which is over the back tyre and held them in place with two heavy-duty elastic bands with grip hooks on either end.

After that I was ready to go, that arrangement was just right, with enough energy, I could get anywhere and when there I could negotiate whatever I had to get to my destination.

Meeting with the nurses

The bloods were done in less than 20 minutes and forthwith I went up to Ward B.06 to see the nurses, this was well before visiting time – apparently the lady had left the Friday before, which was good though I felt bad about not being able to keep my promise.

Immediately, I recognised two nurses, in fact, the first one I saw was the one that gave me a wash, she was off to see a patient, and then I met the one who checked me out and gave her my gifts offering to bring in a Taibo exercise DVD if they felt they were being fed too many chocolates.

One of the doctors walked by the reception and instantly remembered my name, she was happy that I was looking well, and the nurses were grateful, gracious and appreciative, I just felt it was the least I could do and I think every once in a while, I would surprise them with something.

Then I went down to see the Catholic priest that visited me at my bedside, he was called from one of his rounds, we had a chat and again, I felt his visit was very useful and comforting for me and I gave him a little present and made my way home.

I took a long route which allowed me to meditate, sing and edify myself.

Laughing through the pain

Until yesterday evening, each stab of pain or chronic pain was acknowledged with a grimace, a contortion of the face, a grunt or some other reflexive action and I suddenly decided, maybe by inspiration to register every feeling of pain with laughter.

Bizarre, you may say but there is a reason why laughter is supposedly the best medicine, so I laughed through every moment I felt pain, my body being slow to play that game because naturally one defaults to a cry of pain, to purposefully overrule that with determined laughter even when you do not feel like it is interesting.

What I noticed was the pain was no more occupying my thoughts that much and within the 6-hour circle of pain medication where the pain begins to show up after four and a half hours, I have now been able to go 11 and 12 hours respectively between the medications for pain.

When the nurse arrived this morning, he thought the idea of laughter for managing pain was funny but as much as possible I giggled or laughed for the pain. He felt I should have one of my toes checked out when I visit oncology on Friday and he arranged that meeting.

Apart from a few areas where I sometimes need help, like shopping and doing the rubbish, generally, I am coping well at home and also recuperating quite well too.

Dragging the Christmas tree home

Forest of East Amsterdam

The rat race for Christmas has begun and nowhere is it as evident as at the flower shop just outside my apartment tower round the front towards the supermarket.

Every Yuletide, I run the gauntlet of a survivor terrain, a forest of Christmas trees arrive like a stage set for Macbeth [alluding to the prophecy that Macbeth would rule till the forest moved to his castle] and each year the activity gains in sophistication, and it is brisk business.

First it was the netting used to pack the flailing branches into some compact tree baggage – adequate description fails me – then, people worried about how to pot the tree; so there was the cross stand on which to mount the tree.

Taking a trick stand

The new innovation is a metal foot lever stand which seems to be reusable, there would be many an erect Christmas tree standing proud in homes this year and the inventors would be laughing all the way to the bank.

The stand is just so gimmicky and smacks of gadgetry, typical of anyone getting there for a tree and ending up with a complete sawmill, you just see it and your mind works overtime about how lovely it looks, how neat the idea is, you have parted with your money long before you get home and realise you should have asked for a user manual – Ha! Ha! Ha!

The family with kids and papoose in tow arrive and end up with a 2-metre height Christmas tree which would never fit in the car boot but they probably will snap the tree in two and glue it together again back at home, this is where duct tape comes into its own.

Christmas tree transport

The versatility of the bicycle is tested to its limits as I was forced to stand and watch how the bicycle would be used to cart away the tree, they succeeded but I wondered about it all.

Just then the baby was kicked out of the papoose for a more important passenger and that is not to say of the number of 50s-era design prams that had another road test for the Christmas tree.

With the credit crunch leaving us clenching our teeth in reactive pain for the cost of everything and our ability to meet the cost, I thought a shorter Christmas tree might have sufficed, but I leave bedecking the tree with baubles to the sophisticated and initiative of those who would do well and excel.

Palm trees for Christmas kisses

I have never been persuaded of a Christmas tree, in fact, long ago I had a good long-distance lover’s tiff on the need to get one, and we each had Christmas in separate places in the end.

Since I would not be around to take the Christmas tree down after the 12^th day of Christmas, I have a good enough excuse doing without one – they usually end up in the neighbourhood bonfire at the New Year.

I would be having palm trees to hug for Christmas, hopefully I would not end up under a mistletoe bush, I have kissed too many frogs already, I need the kiss of life.