Trying to get used to our changed lives

Three days on and we are just getting our heads round our loss. The house is quiet and getting out of our over 14 year routine is very strange.

The worst times are first thing in the morning and last thing at night and coming back into the house when we've been out. No beautiful brown eyes or wagging tail to greet us.

But, the other side of that coin is that we don't need to rush home when we've been out and we can begin to plan the holiday that we'd put on hold for the last 18 months. I also can go to Bristol to join No. 2 son for his birthday, something that I couldn't have done if Nell was alive as Mountain Man is off working that weekend.

I'm off up to Inverness tomorrow to facilitate the last 2 days of the 4 day training that was started 2 weeks ago and then it's back down to Edinburgh for my last poetry class on Wednesday and from there back home to await the arrival of the Olympic torch, which will be passing our door on Thursday.

So lots to look forward to, but sadly it doesn't ease the pain.

Nell in one of her favourite places, doing a bit of back seat driving in Mountain Man's car

RIP Nell (with us from 1st March 1998 to 6th June 2012)

After the problems of last night, we made the decision that today would be the day. And so at 11 a.m. the vet and the vet nurse turned up at our door. Nell hardly raised her head and we knew we'd made the right decision.

We are very sad to lose a dear friend, who enriched our lives in so many ways over the fourteen years and three months she spent with us. From her dreadful start of being badly abused so that when she arrived with us, at approximately 6 months old, she was so thin she could get through the bars of a baby gate and not being able to walk because she had no leg muscles to speak of; to becoming a Therapet and going to work with us every day, giving pleasure to so many people; to the end of her life where she was just Nell, our quiet, lovely, lovely dog.

One of my favourite photos taken a couple of months ago

A bit of a nightmare

There I was, glass of white wine in my hand, watching the beginning of the 5th set of the men's quarter finals at The French Open, when the doorbell went. It was the league captain from the bowls club who had been let down by a player and asked if I could step in at short notice. I reluctantly agreed, basically because it was raining and I absolutely hate playing in the rain. I also was very happy sitting on the couch watching the tennis (which was utterly amazing) and was beginning to wish I hadn't started my glass of wine. But when I'm asked to help out I will always say yes.

When I got to the club one member looked at me and said (and I quote) 'Oh, are you playing?' (in quite a derogatory tone), I said 'yes' and that was about the measure of it. Only one person said thank you to me for playing, the other 3 in my team hardly spoke to me and in fact the opposing team said more to me than my own team did. And as for shaking hands... the least said about that the better!

So 2 hours later, freezing cold and wet through, we finished. My team still weren't talking to me, but by that time they actually had a point as I didn't play well at all and we were the only team out of 4 who lost. I'm afraid as I hadn't had anything to eat I made my excuses and left and didn't even join the rest in the bar. I decided my need for food was greater than my need for politeness and what the f**k, I don't think anyone missed me and if they did, that's their problem.

After a hot shower, some hot food and some cold wine, I felt a bit better. Still I suppose the good thing is that I definitely won't be asked again.

Mountain Man and I went to sleep only to be woken just after midnight by a very sick dog. What I have a feeling is going to be a nightmare for you once you've read about it, is the picture of MM totally naked armed with a packet of paper towels and a plastic bag, and me totally naked armed with a J-cloth and a plastic bowl cleaning up the floor together. Yes, that definitely is a nightmare in the making!

The man is fit, but the tests go on

Yesterday my man had to head off to the hospital for a meeting with the cardiologist and a running machine. He had to prove that he could tolerate exercise and he came out of it with flying colours, was discharged and pronounced fit for life. Hooray!

He was then strapped up to a 24 hour blood pressure monitor, which his GP had requested. Every half hour a beep goes off and the machine starts whirring as his blood pressure is taken. Not much of a problem during the day, but being woken up every half hour during the night is no joke.

This afternoon the dreaded contraption will be removed and taken down the road to the GP's to be downloaded onto some system so that a discussion can take place about medication. My understanding of the situation is that MM's pretty anti meds and was just interested in having the test done.

And me? I was interested for about half an hour, but that dreaded beep is driving me nuts. Frankly I can't wait until the 24 hours is up, as for the first time in my life I'm contemplating my own blood pressure being high!

What did you do on Jubilee Day?

I spent a lot of the morning engrossed in the French Open. It didn't help that I had a stomach ache until the wee small hours, which continued on and off throughout the day. I didn't feel great at all. So when our village celebrations started at 2 pm I, rather bravely in my estimation, got myself out there, in the drizzle and cloud, to see what was going on. The answer was not very much at all. A few kids under a large awning doing face painting and that was about it. We came home and went back to the French Open.

Later in the evening as the sky cleared and a rock band started to play Mountain Man came over all anti-social and decided he didn't want to go back. I think some of this was due to having spent the whole evening on Friday in the company of loads of very drunk petrol heads who were taking part in the Jim Clark Rally and he'd had enough of drunk folk to last him the summer.

There we were, watching the French Open until the bitter end. Caught up with the news (the flotilla down the Thames was spectacular) and then watched the final of The Apprentice.

So when my grandchildren ask me 'What did you do on Jubilee Day?' I shall have to be honest and say I was mainly stuck in front of my TV fulfilling my tennis obsession alongside my sleeping dog and loving husband.

Not the most exciting, I'm sure you'll admit, but the tennis was very, very good!

It's a dog's life

Our beloved German Shepherd, Nell, is elderly. At 14 and a half, an age we never thought she'd reach, her life has become one of sleeping and eating and going out for an extremely short stroll in the morning and afternoon and that's pretty much it.

Last weekend, when Mountain Man was away, she really struggled up the stairs and this was one of the things that MM and I had talked about as being a pointer to us that it was time to call in the vet.

When MM got home on Sunday and before I escaped up the A9 to Inverness, we had a long talk while sitting in the sunshine. Nell was sitting quietly under the cherry tree, but (anyone who hates anthropomorphism turn away now) as soon as she heard what we were saying she grabbed her ball and wanted to play, as if to say to us 'Not yet, folks, I'm not ready.'

The rest of the week, according to MM, she has been back to normal - as in sleeping all day every day and only getting up to go for a stroll. Both MM and I have spent quite a bit of our week, albeit separately, thinking about this, and then when we were out walking yesterday and out of Nell's earshot we discussed it.

It's very difficult when you don't want your dear friend to suffer, but do we know whether she's actually suffering? It seemed to both of us that it was us who were suffering with watching her not doing what she used to and not having much of a life, just a sleeping existence.

For most of her life, Nell has been allowed onto our bed first thing in the morning, when we've invited her and then in the evening. A kind of 'pack treat', both for her and for us. We welcome her closeness to us - maybe not the mountain of hair that accompanies it, but there's always a downside! For the last 6 - 9 months Nell hasn't been able to jump on the bed and we've got out of the habit of her being there.

Imagine my surprise this morning, not long after I woke up and was contemplating the day's activities to find Nell by my side of the bed. On enquiring what she wanted it became obvious that she wanted to join us and so MM got out of bed and lifted her up. It was a lovely start to our day to have our old friend back with us.

Not only did she partake of the old morning bed routine, she also went and had her morning biscuits, something else she hasn't done in a while.

So I just thought I'd let you know that the vet won't be called this weekend.

Home and away

I was up in my old stamping ground, Inverness, this week. It was a real chore driving up the A9 and it made me think about how often I used to do that journey only a few years ago and how I never really thought about it. I've obviously become a Southern Softie!

It was also quite serendipitous that a bunch of my old workmates were having a work 'away day' in the same building where I was facilitating a teaching event, and so I had an opportunity to catch up with them, which was lovely.

When I left home on Sunday it was around 25 degrees and stayed that way pretty much all the way up. I wore my shorts and a vest top to drive in, which was eminently sensible. What wasn't quite so sensible was, that although I'd taken a variety of clothing just in case it turned back to winter overnight, I'd forgotten my waterproof jacket. And it did turn virtually into winter. A wopping 15 degrees colder in 12 hours!

I had a bit of a dilemma with the 'no jacket' situation as my plan had been to drive back to Edinburgh on Wednesday morning and go to my poetry group in the afternoon and then to a physio appointment and stay in Edinburgh overnight ready for work yesterday and then another stay over as I had an art thing followed by dinner last night. But the weather forecast said cold and rain for Thursday and I thought of the sense of trucking round Edinburgh with no jacket and decided against it.

Due to circumstances of a social nature I didn't make it to my poetry group and headed on back to the Borders after my physio and then got up early yesterday. Was I pleased I did! It bucketed down all day and although I always carry my brolly in the car, there was no way that would've been enough.

However, here I am at home now. A bit sick and tired of all the driving I've done this week and determined to have a bit of a low key weekend.

Mountain Man is off to do some medicking with the Search and Rescue guys tonight for the Jim Clark Rally. I'm not going along as I don't think I'd relish all those petrol heads for more than a couple of hours in our not-so-warm-anymore-summer, but tomorrow may well find me sitting on my stoop watching all them boys and their toys racing around our roads.