As we approach the end of this first month in the new stage in life known as Retired, it is painfully obvious that the years do not pass without leaving their mark. For as well as being in the early days of a new regime I am also approaching five weeks of having had an x-ray taken on a staggeringly painful knee. And I have been staggering ever since. As yet the GP still awaits results from said scan. The pain continues, undiagnosed, and absent any possible remedy.
This particular knee has been damaged in the past, had some minor surgery a quarter of a century ago. This time round the onset of pain was not triggered by any further damage, no accident or sporting injury whatsoever.
Thus the walking and cycling elements of the retirement plans remain on hold as yet. That said these weeks have been busy; well wishes and many kind words from those I now need to refer to as former clients, as well as easing through the passage for new advisers to grasp the reins. Letting go is not easy.
The painful knee, and I fear it may be the onset of arthritis, has left me limping very slowly, every step racked in pain. Life involves regular ice packs, and too many disturbed sleeps. Painkillers offer little help, though sleep may be aided by a pleasant 12 year old from Bowmore.
On our latest trip north, to move the retirement home on a bit, I did manage to reach the cliffs at Troup Head. Gannets a-plenty, doing nesting things.
I have a little woodland wander, aided by much strapping and a fine pair of walking poles, on the agenda, for I want to check up on a fine young lady I happened across in the last two visits.
Loch-na-Bo is set to become a firm favourite. My first venture, that weekend a month or so ago when the knee first called for help, took me amongst tall Scots pines and silver birch, rhododendrons gasping for spring, and a carpet of American skunk cabbage, yet another invasive non-native species that is banned from sale here. At this stage I realise I have yet to finish the articles drafted after that walk. The woods are filled with song, from treecreepers, and bullfinches and all the tits, finches and warblers you can imagine.
Out on the water a pair of mute swans had chased a couple of whoopers, bugling and flapping across the loch. Swans in flight are a marvellous sight. I feel an addiction coming on.
Our return, through the Easter weekend saw me introducing Gilly to this woodland delight. She took Merlin with her and we ambled slowly - all pain and poles for one of us - to the far end of the loch. There we found my mute quine, watching and wary, but settled and comfortable. She sat on a wide nest of straw but a handful of yards from the shore.
She has been calling me back, perhaps a clutch to show me. It will be too soon for hatching, but I'm keen to check on her wellbeing, assuming that old knee grants permission. I'll report on that shortly.
No comments:
Post a Comment