Could Do Better…

I was due to attend a regular check-up appointment with my GP yesterday, to discuss the ongoing progress of my current depressive episode, and how I’m finding my medication this time around. Depression has been a recurring issue for me over my lifetime, so I’m used to these uncomfortable appointments and the kinds of difficult converations they require.

I told my GP I was feeling much better than last time we met, and he asked me how much better – if my first visit a couple of months ago had been scored at zero percent, and perfectly well again would be 100%, what percentage did I feel at right now? I thought about it, and answered quite honestly – about 50%. We had a frank chat about this and the upshot is my medication strength has been increased – apparently after this length of time on my current dose I would ideally be sitting at about 80-85%.

So I left with a new prescription and a seeping sinking feeling of failure, as if in spite of my best efforts I had just received a progress report saying ‘Could do better’… I went home and went straight to bed in tears, upset not to be improving more. But my husband hugged me close and reminded me that however disappointed I felt, what matters most is I’m voluntarily getting the help I need to get better again, whatever it takes.

And sure enough after yesterday’s misery the world looks a little brighter today. It may be a bitter pill for me to swallow but I took my required increase in medication without a fuss this morning and am just getting on quietly with getting myself better the best way I can… ๐Ÿ™‚

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Due

 

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Pearl’s A Singer…

We’re watching an episode of ‘The Repair Shop’ on TV, and the leather specialist lady is repairing and restoring an old WWII flying jacket for a young man that was once worn by his grandfather, but now belongs to his father.

Sadly most of the old original stitching has rotted, causing the seams to come apart, so she painstakingly unpicked them and started to re-sew them using her old hand-wheel-turned Singer sewing machine she had named ‘Pearl’.

The sewing machine was apparently named after Elkie Brooks, with her wonderful song ‘Pearl’s a singer…’ Now that’s how to name something with style – I just love it! ๐Ÿ™‚

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Stuff I Notice

I’ve not been anywhere with my proper camera lately, but as I always have my phone with me I often take spontaneously improptu images of basic stuff I notice while out and about, just going about my everyday regular boring life.

I generally end up with an odd photographic collection of random bits and pieces that don’t necessarily relate to anything important at all and have no real purpose, but that for some reason or other I like too much to delete.

Sometimes I think they might prove handy for a future blog challenge or something, but most times I forget so they just sit there on my phone memory card until I download them onto my laptop (once my phone gets too full) where they just sit forever.

So to go with my stream of consciousness written post this week, here is an alternative selection of stream of consciousness photography from my phone – no narrative to link them, no common element other than whatever was inside my head when I took them ๐Ÿ™‚

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Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Neighbour

back-gardens.jpg

While my husband was up fixing something on our roof recently (and I was standing at the top of a ladder on guard duty) I took this image looking down over our neighbours’ back gardens.

I feel the different perspective really shows just how much we all genuinely live cheek by jowl here in London in our old Victorian terraced properties. I appreciate it probably looks like a total jumble of roofs and fences and hedges and whatnot but because I live here (and so know exactly whose gardens I’m looking at) I can see in this shot I’m capturing at least eight back gardens and a large communal parking/ garage area behind a post-war block of flats in the next street.

Also, as many of these old Victorian houses are sub-divided into flats (including ours) not everyone has access to any garden space at all – usually the garden space goes with the ground floor flats, so anyone living only upstairs can only look out in envy over everyone elseย  ๐Ÿ™‚

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Neighbour

Which Way After the Wildfire

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Although we live in Leytonstone in East London, we have a much appreciated area of open greeen space accessible only a few minutes walk from our home.

Wanstead Flats sit on the Southermost edge of the ancient Epping Forest, and provides for local residents a welcome sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of everyday city living. I usually walk there a lot, but sadly during the recent heatwave we had a wildfire that quickly spread through the tinder dry grasses, scrub and trees, causing a large area to be burned before the fire was brought under control.

A couple of weeks later once the heatwave had broken, the threat of further fire had passed, and the area was no longer cordoned off by the emergency serices I went for a long walk along my usual pathways and took these images with my phone camera. I love the way the hard compressed ground of the well-worn pathways have remained so visible across the charred earth, and how resilient nature proves itself to be.

Cee’s Which Way