My bedroom is currently a balmy and tropical 11.5 Celsius. It was 10.2 when I woke up. Since then, I've been out to go and buy more gas, since we were down to a fiver and that only just pays for Pol's daily bath and the washing up. I'm going to clamber over the sofa to jam the card into the meter and then put the heating on. Oddly enough, I'm quite warm at the moment, but then I am wearing a jumper and a cardigan, wool trousers and warm fluffy slippers, and, of course, the hat.
Outside, Bolton is looking very well after the squalls and thunder last night. There doesn't seem to be any damage. I did hear on the radio about trees being down somewhere or other.
Going out has left me tired and migrainous, but not so much I can't enjoy life. Say about a 5, where I can more or less do things but it's sore. In theory, I should be very, very poorly because I did a lot on Monday and it's been cold, a major trigger. I feel... slightly achey. Healthy, almost, other than the dragging headache in one eye and the slight nausea.
Just about everything I had been watching on the telly has been taken off again. My day used to have double Scrubs, DIY SOS and a few other things in. Now it's Ray Mears and A&E, and it's just not the same. It might be sad to build my day around television, but it works. I huddle under a duvet watching television, then during the breaks I do housework. The programme coming on gives me an excuse to stop what I am doing and take a rest, which may be helping the M.E. and does stop me triggering major migraine from hell. The programme finishing gets me wanting a cuppa, which gets me on my feet, which is good for stopping me wallowing in winter depression.
If I'm on the computer, I tend to just stay on for hours, unless I sit on the edge of the bed like now in a cold room with no cuppa and only Radio Four for company. Radio Four gets me awake and ready to get up in the first place.
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
In which the Rodent recovers from Monday and considers pigs.
It feels like the clearout was two days ago, since I've slept twice since then, finally emerging today at 3pm in an unenthusiastic effort to go back to being productive. I've changed the duvet cover for the sitting room nest, to a nice new embroidered and sequinned one in white and a beige old gold, a horrible colour on its own but one which looks nice with all the 'light oak' panelling all about. I've also put a white load in to wash for clean bedding later, and started folding a red load.
I'm definitely very sore. Since I had a few naproxen left over, I've taken one of them this morning, but what I would really have liked is some basic aspirin. It's sore muscle pain from doing too much while unfit, and it's very, very different from the fluey ache of doing too much while MEish. In my experience, M.E. pain only responds to opiates for some reason. If I want to do things, I can, it just hurts. With M.E., I can want all I want, my muscles aren't going to do as I ask. Trying hard isn't enough and nor is a positive mental attitude. Whereas, by contrast, today I am getting by on bloody mindedness and drugs.
I watched television - mostly what I paid attention to was a Discovery programme from 2005 on Hogzilla, a monster hog killed in the swamps of Georgia. The whole point of the programme was whether or not Hogzilla was really 12 feet long (about 4m) and weighed a thousand pounds (450kg, give or take). Naturally they took an hour to answer this simple question, with lots of scaremongering about packs of wild boar poised to overwhelm Texas and Britain, breeding massively and probably eating children. If they're going to be supersized wild boar, then we're all doomed! Doomed! So, was it as big as claimed?
The answer after digging the corpse up, was no. It's still a very big pig, seven and a half feet (2.3 metres). It's more like Rooter and Tusker from Terry Pratchett's Hogfather than the little piggy that went whee, whee, whee all the way home. It had huge tusks and hair, but features of domestic pigs too. And now it's dead.
Today's foodstuff is pork. Pigs exist almost everywhere humans have been, and the feral ones are a menace to wildlife, eating bird eggs, animals living and dead and digging up plants with their incredibly powerful snouts. If you have feral pigs nearby, introduced animals, not native wild pigs, then it is your solemn duty to eat them.
Pork fillet is very nice sprinkled with some olive oil, with a little black pepper ground on and a sprinkle of sage and very little thyme, and baked in foil in a hot oven for about fifteen minutes.
I'm definitely very sore. Since I had a few naproxen left over, I've taken one of them this morning, but what I would really have liked is some basic aspirin. It's sore muscle pain from doing too much while unfit, and it's very, very different from the fluey ache of doing too much while MEish. In my experience, M.E. pain only responds to opiates for some reason. If I want to do things, I can, it just hurts. With M.E., I can want all I want, my muscles aren't going to do as I ask. Trying hard isn't enough and nor is a positive mental attitude. Whereas, by contrast, today I am getting by on bloody mindedness and drugs.
I watched television - mostly what I paid attention to was a Discovery programme from 2005 on Hogzilla, a monster hog killed in the swamps of Georgia. The whole point of the programme was whether or not Hogzilla was really 12 feet long (about 4m) and weighed a thousand pounds (450kg, give or take). Naturally they took an hour to answer this simple question, with lots of scaremongering about packs of wild boar poised to overwhelm Texas and Britain, breeding massively and probably eating children. If they're going to be supersized wild boar, then we're all doomed! Doomed! So, was it as big as claimed?
The answer after digging the corpse up, was no. It's still a very big pig, seven and a half feet (2.3 metres). It's more like Rooter and Tusker from Terry Pratchett's Hogfather than the little piggy that went whee, whee, whee all the way home. It had huge tusks and hair, but features of domestic pigs too. And now it's dead.
Today's foodstuff is pork. Pigs exist almost everywhere humans have been, and the feral ones are a menace to wildlife, eating bird eggs, animals living and dead and digging up plants with their incredibly powerful snouts. If you have feral pigs nearby, introduced animals, not native wild pigs, then it is your solemn duty to eat them.
Pork fillet is very nice sprinkled with some olive oil, with a little black pepper ground on and a sprinkle of sage and very little thyme, and baked in foil in a hot oven for about fifteen minutes.
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