For several weeks now I’ve had shooting and burning pain in my wrists, especially the right one. Sometimes I can’t use my right hand at all, although it’s generally worse at night and in the morning and gets better through the day (no doubt something to do with the painkillers I’m wolfing during waking hours).
I think consumption of cakes also helps, a skill I have yet to master in my sleep. Here’s an example of the sort of medicine I enjoy taking:
My ailment would appear to be a complaint called De Quervain’s syndrome or tendonitis. Initial treatment for it is to wear a support or splint to keep the wrist from moving too much, take anti-inflammatory medication and rest it as much as possible, particularly from doing the things that make it painful. Very sadly for me, one of the main things that makes it worse is typing, and so on doctor’s orders I’m going to type less and sleep more, like this sensible teenager:
(If I haven’t visited your blog or left comments recently, I really am most aggrieved. My particular apologies if I haven’t replied to any comments you’ve left for me on here or on your own blog, I did try to catch up with them today but I may have missed some.)
In order to try and enforce this cessation of typing and blogging, I’m taking my two most delightful assistants down to the south-west of Scotland next week for a holiday. I plan to sample some marvellous tearooms while I’m there, which will eventually appear in all their glory on this blog.
We’ll be staying a very lovely self-catering cottage in Galloway, where we’ve all stayed before, but strangely I can’t find any pictures of it (I’ll have to remedy that next week). Instead, here are a couple of shots from a little camping trip I had in April 2010 a few miles away in the same county. It was just me, my tent and this lovely view:
One of my favourite tearooms anywhere in the world exists in Galloway. On more than one occasion I’ve had what they call the Mata Hari, which is a sticky toffee pudding with ice cream. It’s so absurdly delicious that I suspect any spy might be tempted to trade in state secrets for the recipe:
And so dear readers, thank you for your patience during my convalescence. I will miss you terribly, but I hope to be back before too long, stronger and full of yet more inane witterings about tearooms.