Peaceful

My Grandpa, who is 87, is very ill. He’s been in hospital since autumn, and for the last couple of days he’s been unconscious. Granny and Mum are with him. Mum's been in touch regularly and says he's "peaceful".

Everyone seems to think it’s just a matter of waiting now. I will go over in the morning, whatever happens.

He’s been unable to get out of bed by himself for months now, and he’s been increasingly confused and not himself. So… but… it’s really hard to think about. He has been a big presence all our lives: my grandparents live nearby and we’ve always seen them a lot.

Last time I saw Grandpa, he was fairly lucid and asking about my new job, and saying that we’d cheered him up by coming to see him (which is unusually gracious, for him, but would you be gracious if you were in pain and unable to get up and apparently surrounded by idiots who wouldn’t let you go home?) Which is something, I suppose.

Poor Mum and poor Granny.

I can’t talk about this any more at the moment.

Last Saturday. That was a good day. It was sunny and warm and I planted a lot of nice things in the garden, as well as the seeds for our vegetable plot. J helped and mowed the grass. Later I made a cake. It was a good cake.

Answers to kind comments on my rather trivial previous entry below. Thanks, people.

Circles and good intentions

I promised myself that when I got paid from my new(ish) job, I'd buy myself some weights. Of all the things I can't do since the gym became impractical, I miss weights the most. I've tried to keep myself flexible by doing the motions unweighted (especially the squats, since it took so long to get any depth) but it's not the same.

My brother bought some lovely shiny dumbbells with removable plates a few months ago, which seemed just the sort of thing.

So on Saturday I duly went up town to try to get some. Could I find any? No. I think I was looking in the wrong shops. Still, I got some exercise jogging along Princes Street in an attempt to go to as many shops as possible in the time I had.

I still seem to be able to run without wanting to die, which is lucky, since I haven't been running properly since early December. Stephanie, a friend from livejournal, offered to go running with me last Saturday, but we got our wires crossed and it fell through. Next Saturday. Maybe. If she's free.

The trouble is, my spare time for doing anything at the moment is extremely limited. I know this sounds pathetic coming from a twentysomething with no children, but it is. Here's my daily timetable:

7.00 Alarm rings.
7.10ish. Get up - unwillingly, because I am not a morning person - dress. Eat oats with muesli topping, bring J cup of tea.
7.35 Leave house. Catch unpredictable bus as soon as it comes. Read on bus.
9.00 Arrive at work. Work like mad thing to be impressive so they'll write me a nice reference when my contract runs out.
5 to 5.30 Leave work. Catch unpredictable bus again. Read on it.
Anything between 6.15 and 7.15 Arrive home. Cook tea with J, eat it.
8ish Start work for course.
12ish Go to bed.

This is slightly exaggerated - I don't have work to do every single evening - but not much. I don't feel I'm exactly starved of me-time, given that I get two hours every day in which to read, but I've yet to work out a way of exercising while on the bus. And I feel slightly tired a lot of the time because I'm not getting quite enough sleep...

There is my lunch-hour. I could go running then a couple of times a week, but the temptation not to is strong, because my workmates are pretty nice and it's more tempting to stay in and talk to them, given that the schedule above doesn't leave much time for a social life. And there are the weekends. During which I really want to garden. (We're trying to grow our own vegetables this year. Or rather, I am trying to grow them. J looks on with mild interest.)

I do like the job. But the next one I apply for won't be quite so far away. How do other people do it? I can't be the only non-morning-person who works nine to five, commutes and also studies...

Any ideas?

Whoosh

That was several weeks shooting past in a blur.

I started a new job on Monday last week. It is good. The people are nice, and there is also free fruit. There's also a dress code, but hey.

Not unconnected with this, I had occasion to wear the smart black trousers I bought just before Christmas. Now, when I bought these, they fitted quite snugly. Snugly enough that I had to try them on at home to check that they did indeed look OK. I have trouble buying trousers that fit - I have short legs but a really long body, so I can't wear anything even vaguely low-rise if I want to be able to sit down.

Anyway, when I put the trousers in question on last week, they were... roomier than I was expecting. They haven't been washed (they haven't been worn), so the only explanation is that I'm slightly smaller than I was at Christmas.

I was at a loss to explain this. Really. I haven't been doing much strenuous exercise, and I've been feeling kind of fat. It's been one of those stupid periods when you can't quite get into a routine - and not having any scales doesn't help.

When I think back, however, my diet has been overwhelmingly sensible lately. Not that that's ever had much of an effect before... but I'm not exactly complaining.

J had to stay home from work again for another couple of weeks, but is now back again. We're taking it as it comes. He has some new medication to take, so we'll see how that works.