Has a whole week gone by since I last blogged? A few days ago I had a surfeit of time to do nothing; now life is manic again. I must learn to pace myself ... And I would have been ironing now if the ironing board hadn't collapsed on me leaving me with time to catch up.
On holiday I had a list of things I wanted to mention. I thought I'd remind myself by remembering the letters: I, E, E, O, and N. That's invisible, exercise, enjoyment, nationality and knobbly knees. No, I can't remember what the O stands for. And I only remember the others because I wrote them down soon after.
As I mentioned before, I wondered if I'd become invisible. Further proof: I was waiting patiently at the breakfast buffet for the chef to fry eggs. A man came and stood alongside me and said, 'Two eggs, please.' Fortunately the chef had noticed me and served me first but I was hopping. (But I didn't say anything of course. Much too polite.)
Anticipating a holiday doing nothing I didn't take my Fitbit. I didn't know we'd be on floor one while the exit, restaurant and swimming pools were on floor 6. Five floors and one hundred steps between us. Most days we did the up and down thing four or five times. On occasion I tried to beat the lift. We also had to walk a distance each day in order to get me an ice cream - my lunch. So it's no wonder I lost one and a half pounds in weight in spite of all the eating I did on holiday.
One evening as we left the restaurant we walked past the bar and I commented to husband, 'Gosh, some people really enjoy themselves on holiday.'
What I meant was that lots of people liked to have a drink, chat and watch the entertainment; our idea of enjoying ourselves was to return to our room and curl up with our books. We're a bit anti-social but we like it like that.
One of my favourite games in the restaurant was Guess the Nationality. If I couldn't hear them properly I based my decisions on appearance, style and eating habits. It's surprisingly difficult with people of a certain age. German, Dutch and British older men and women tend to look very similar but voices, even if I couldn't hear words distinctly, could be a give-away as Brits have a lower timbre (if that's the right word).
Back in February I made Daughter a caramel birthday cake and splashed some of the boiling sugar on my knuckle. It had healed well but suddenly on holiday my knuckle began to hurt a lot. I thought at first perhaps the burn had gone deeper than I'd thought - though why it should start hurting at a later date I don't know - but then I glanced at my bent knuckle and realised it was a little mountain! Oh no, arthritis I feared. But, hey, it's gone down now and doesn't hurt at all.
I had to see the nurse on Tuesday anyway so I mentioned it to her. 'Did you strain it?' she asked. How do you strain a knuckle?