Again a day of activity. Chris Camp came round, early morning, to the erect the metal shelter I purchased to house the generator.
All being well the other Chris (Rix), the electrician will be here tomorrow to install the unit. Not before time as heavy snow is forecast towards the end of the week.
Although this may not mean inevitably that we will all suffer from a power cut I recall in the early 60â€™ Â being stranded overnight in the Adneyâ€™s house, on the edge of Newport village, some 2.2 miles distant, with a number of other people due, to a 12â€™ 0â€ deep snowdrift blocking the road to Clavering. The thing about this village is, it is my understanding that it stands around 600 feet above sea level and each of the three roads leading out of it involves a fairly steep hill with a dip at the bottom, which, following a heavy snowfall, can readily get blocked. If the snow is countrywide, as it was on this occasion, then the snowploughs obviously have to concentrate on the main roads first and the small country roads can well be left a day or two before they can get round to them. Again, I recall another year in the 60â€™s when we were snowed in for three days. With these memories and therefore the prospect,, however remote, of a lengthyÂ power cut â€“ the last one, only a year or two ago, lasted 27 hours – our own generator seems an essential, rather than a luxury.
The boys,â€™Bill and Benâ€™, came round mid-morning to remove the ramps to my office. Ostensibly, just for the winter to be returned when the weather improves in the spring. I have a sinking feeling that this is just another nail in my coffin and will I ever get back into my office? I make this rather distressing comment in the light of the continuing weakness in my limbs. For the past couple of years I have done exercises to keep the legs and arms muscles going as best I can. This morning, for the first time, I was unable to raise my left leg 6 inches off the bed and hold it there for six seconds, as I have done in the past. These exercises themselves are an excellent guide to me as to my rate of deterioration.
After lunch, Althea, came round to cut my toe and fingernails and coincided with the beginning of the tennis match between Murray and Federer which I had promised myself I would watch. Fortunately I missed little more than the knock-up. In the event, it was a rather boring, Murray was white washed by Federer, his heart just didn’t seem to be in it. What is it with our British tennis players?