ENDURANCE

 An easterly wind blew like a train across this corner of Devon over the last few days. Leaves and small branches sailed high in the air around the lawn, and empty pots which I’d forgotten to put away rolled like uncontrolled wheels into far flowerbeds. It brought with it a bitterly cold blast, the kind which chills every forgotten corner and exposed finger.

In a bizarre echo of the weather, my first Covid-19 vaccination knocked me for six too. If you don’t want to hear what happened, stop reading now and look only at the pictures. Because it’s been a rocky forty-eight hours… The inoculation itself was easy, even though I don’t enjoy any kind of ‘jab’ and always turn away from the endless film shots on TV news of people being vaccinated. Mine went smoothly and I arrived home feeling fine. My other half received his two days earlier and whilst he had some side-effects they were quite mild, so I thought I’d got away with it. The ‘flu-like symptoms’ hit me after about six hours, when I turned very cold and went to bed. Despite hot water bottles and blankets over the duvet, I shivered violently for half an hour before falling into what felt like a drugged sleep. I woke a few times from the most vivid of dreams, heart pounding, only to lapse back into more of the same. Yesterday I endured the same drugged feeling and a bad headache, unable even to turn on the computer, or read. Only today has the real ‘me’ resurfaced, thankful to have returned from my zombie state to the land of the living. Oh, and this morning my arm aches, but it’s nothing compared to the rest!

What have I learned from this? I will tell my brother, and the other members of my family who may be similarly affected, (and you) to prepare as though for a short bout of flu. Get in all the food you need, because you won’t want to go out or even to receive deliveries. Make sure you have plenty of hot drinks, and paracetamol at the ready. And remember, it only lasts a couple of days or so.

I can’t tell you whether or not to be vaccinated – that decision is for you alone. What I can say is that I chose it, and if whatever has been injected into me is an experiment, well - life is pretty much an experiment too, isn’t it?

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My February photos are not current, because I haven’t felt in a mood for photography – and I’ve been too busy writing my third book, whose ideas kept me going when I was feeling so bad. All of them, though, were taken in February.

The ‘windy’ photo was taken in February 2017 passing Dartmoor. The snow was 2015 in our garden. The drifts of snowdrops were photographed when we lived in Mid-Devon, in 2014. The little Wren was snapped by my son, but the Robin is mine, and I hope they will bring you a little joy in this most difficult of times.

Next time I write, there will be cherry blossom…

 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind

As man’s ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then, heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

-        William Shakespeare

SLEEP

 “To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…” (William Shakespeare: Hamlet) This is said by Hamlet to himself when he thinks he is alone.

Forgetting the words ‘die’ and ‘death’, I use this quote today, on the first day of a new month, to describe the troubled sleep many of us are experiencing at the moment. For me, the problem falls into two categories, the first of which is insomnia. Lying awake, trying to sleep yet unable to set aside not just the worries of today or yesterday, but odd and random perplexities from the past. Why did I do that? Why did I say such awful things? Why didn’t I choose another path? From the number of articles I’ve been reading in the newspapers recently, this appears to be a common problem – and a very instinctively human one. Dr Jenna Macciochi, immunologist, says: '... sleep is the foundation of the immune system, and worrying about insomnia only exacerbates it'.

According to a study commissioned for the Daily Telegraph, “the nation has been gripped by sleeplessness... Fear is the bane of a good night's sleep.” The main factors cited in a survey are: work worries; financial stress; anxiety; depression and loneliness. “Sleep is a biological process that cannot be controlled. The more you seek to do so, the further it slips from reach.” One idea I have gleaned from this interesting article is this: “When our brains race over old feuds, regrets, work crises and family fears at night, that is an evolutionary response described as 'our brain default mode network' which is like a filing system. For this simple reason, when the storm clouds of negative thoughts pass over at night, we need to say: 'Thank you, brain' and see the thoughts simply as words and images passing through our minds, rather than getting bogged down in emotion. A good night's sleep boils down to the 'paradox of acceptance'. When you can let go of the idea that you need to be asleep, you remove the obstacles preventing you from getting there.”

When my brother and I were children, my late mother used to tell us not to worry if we couldn’t sleep, because at least the body was resting. Part of this is true: however much we toss and turn, we are resting from being upright, and I have always found the idea both comforting and relaxing.

The second problem, which has been affecting members of my own family, is heavy, vivid dreaming and nightmares. Again, this is probably easily explained by science and the pandemic. My dreams have been extraordinarily vivid. The other night I dreamt I was shopping in D H Evans (which used to be a department store in London) with my mother – years ago, because she was young. We were looking at material: beautiful, brightly coloured fabrics spread out over huge counters. This dream felt so real that I woke up with a start, surprised to find everything fading away – as dreams do. In others I have been troubled, lost and pursued, unable to find my way home. I don’t have an answer for this, and I don’t know whether it’s preferable to insomnia!

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Here we are on the first day of February, and I have to say that in my particular neck of the woods it’s a sombre, grey day, dripping with damp – like so many others we seem to be experiencing at the moment. To cheer us all up, I’m adding a few colourful photos. The cherry blossom photo was taken at the end of February last year, so we have that joy to come and I promise to post the best of it here.

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And why, you may ask, does this article begin with a picture of the sea? Well first of all, it is a cheerful photo of a lovely beach, but more importantly it is connected to what I was saying earlier. The other night I attempted to chase away all the noise in my pre-sleep mind with this picture, and I imagined walking along that beach, barefoot, and paddling in the cold water. I tried to hear the wonderful noise of the tide, as I marched along an endless stretch of sand. And I think it may have worked, because I don't remember any more! The photo below is me doing exactly what I've been describing, back in 2014.

I hope my article will be of help to any of you who are suffering from lack of sleep, or bad sleep. I am indebted to the Daily Telegraph for the passages quoted above, and for helping me in my search for answers on this most important of topics. Should anyone be interested, the link is here, but may not be readable without a subscription to that newspaper: 'Say Goodnight to Insomnia During Lockdown'

Take care, all of you, and - dare I say it - sweet dreams.