TFCH: oatmilk latte and blackberry crumble slice; sausage and vegetable pasta (aka fridge pasta) with garlic bread

I’m weary this evening after a trip into the village (does this disability thing ever get easier, or will 90 minutes outside always leave me feeling like this?) so tonight’s post is more of a series of notes and observations than one piece of writing: apologies if I’m even less coherent than usual.

• Waited 25 minutes for the community bus but it didn’t turn up. Phoned the office and spoke to a wonderful person called Jodie, who investigated and found out that the road had been blocked by an ambulance so the bus hadn’t been able to get through. I explained that I needed to collect my meds from the pharmacy and she offered to collect and deliver them as she lives nearby. Sadly the timing didn’t work, but the offer was beyond kind.
• Saw a red kite, for only the second time on the Island.
• Chatted briefly to a neighbour who I haven’t seen since before I went into hospital last year. Even better, her spaniel Maya remembered me and wagged her way over for cuddles. She’s a good dog.
• Found myself enveloped in village life, where everyone talks to everyone and if you’ve met a person once they consider you a friend. Which is nice, but a touch overwhelming for introverts. 😬

• The Freshwater Coffee House (TFCH) received three Mum-chelin stars (“we really must come here again”), which is great because it’s my favourite café in the village: it’s slightly bougie – it even offers multiple types of non-dairy milk! – and reminds me of mainland cafés, but with a strong dose of Island friendliness.
• The bus home brought us round the long way, giving me time to talk to (or be talked at by, more accurately) another passenger; she was a native Portsmouthian and that was all it took for my Pompey accent, muted after a year on the Island, to come back in full force. Mum accordingly started making fun of the way I was talking, which never fails to irritate me.
• I have developed an unfortunate habit of somewhat tuning out mum’s chatting when she gets going on one of her lengthy discursions on, e.g, the love life of a celebrity I’ve never even heard of: I just give the occasional “mmm”, knowing that I’ll probably hear it all again later anyway. Today I discovered that mum does the same to me: I told her I was starting to struggle and was using my crutches more, and could she please slow down, and realised when I got no useful response that she was mmm-ing me and not actually listening. Serves me right, really. 🤣
• There are many things I miss about living in a city – takeaway food from just about any culture you can name, taxis on demand, public transport where you sit in respectable silence rather than having to make conversations with other passengers – but I have to admit the views here are next level¹.

After that, an easy dinner was required and I intended it to be frozen pizza with salad. But when I went to put something² in the fridge, I was reminded that there was an open pack of chipolata sausages that urgently needed using, so it became fridge pasta instead: the chipolatas, half an onion and the last of a bag of frozen Mediterranean veg, roasted together then mixed with pasta and a jar of sundried tomato pasta sauce. It was delicious, as these random ingredient dishes always are.

And so now to leftover mocha cake (interestingly, the coffee flavour is stronger now it’s cold) and the last of the Oreo ice cream, and then possibly some morphine because 100 yards is just too much for my feet to manage these days without screaming at me for days afterwards.

They, and the rest of me, will see y’all tomorrow.

1. I mentioned this to mum and she said “mmm”, then a few moments later “have you noticed the view? It’s amazing.” 🙄 ↩︎
2. It was a bar of chocolate, for a future chocolate taste test post. Not that it’s likely to still be around by that time, but I’ve got a good memory. ↩︎