Second of the next duo of books to tumble out of my tbr pile and into my lap. #BookSky

Only the two years late digging this out of my tbr pile. Finger on the pulse that's me. #BookSky

R.I.P. Udo Kier.

I've bought a heated throw/blanket and I may never leave the couch again.

My Dark Broken Heart.

Sut mae I was watching Cymru. It was lush.

Into week eight of my recovery from THR and I am decidedly sore. I think I may have been overdoing my physio routine. Hopefully I haven't done anything stupid to myself which is always a possibility as I'm daft. I'm taking a couple of days off to sit on my sore arse and feel sorry for myself.

Bore da. Twenty five memories of stone, water & air.

Bore da. Across the Hills and Mountains.

So as the dark nights herald thoughts of "what am I going to buy X for Xmas'", don't forget that my Bespoke Guitar Pieces are still available; written. performed and recorded by me. with a WAV emailed direct and a lovely score in the post all pretty-like... craigfortnam.bandcamp.com/merch/bespok...

Sut mae. Another occasional post of one of my previous mark making excursions.

After perusing my tbr for something to read alongside the final volume of The Book of Dust by Philip Pullman I've alighted upon this from Barbara Pym. I've had this alongside a few other novels by Ms Pym for some years but up to now I've not indulged. So I thought why not? #BookSky

Time to plonk this onto my lap and get the sucker read. #BookSky

Listening to Salome by Richard Strauss whilst massaging E45 cream into one's hip replacement scar is exactly the right vibe for a dull, wet Friday night in Wales.

Double box set delivery. Yum yum.

Sut Mae. Starting one's day picking dried super glue away from an operation scar is not something I had ever imagined happening but nevertheless.

Shh Shetland is on.

That was quick! I am home once more and my consultant is very happy with my progress. I just need to keep on keeping on. In his own words "You're doing very well. I don't need to worry about you." Huzzah!! Cataract op up next in December.

Bore da butties. That's me away to that Wrexham to see my consultant sawbones. Play nicely.

Stuff they don't tell you about recuperation from total hip replacement surgery. It takes a long time. You get a very sore tail bone from uncomfortable seating arrangements. Your wrists get progressively more and more painful from using crutches. It's boring and lonely.

The Guardian view on art and health: the masterpiece can cure the body as well as the soul | Editorial www.theguardian.com/commentisfre...

Bore da. Another small success on the road to recovery this morning when I walked to my local pharmacy to get my flu jab. Now I'm sore but pleased with myself.

Sut mae. Another month, another Maigret. #BookSky

The latest time absorber from my tbr. I'm fond of Andrew Miller's writing and having read most of his previously published novels I have high hopes that this will not disappoint. #BookSky

Sut mae. Another tiny bit of progress this morning in the form of my being able to return my rug to it's rightful place on the floor of my sitting room. Hurray! I've been able to cut back on painkillers too.

True Welsh poetry

Sut mae. Another tiny milestone reached for me today when I managed to negotiate descending and then ascending the thirteen steps to and from street level to my flat for the first time since the op. Now I'm sat sitting with an ice pack on my hip feeling sore but pleased.

#nowplaying Streaming from Qobuz.

Bore da. Llongyfarchiadau Plaid Cymru. Da iawn. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

What a thoroughly lovely day this has been. Just thought this needed saying. As you were.

A celebratory day tomorrow when thanks to a much loved friend I get to put my speakers back in situ. I don't need quite so much room to negotiate around my sitting room now I can get about a little on one crutch. Hooray!!

Here Hare Here. More from my backpages.

Sut mae butties. Another occasional post from my portfolio. Four. Gouache on paper.

Okey dokey I can manage short distances using only one crutch now. This means that after 21 days I can carry a cup of tea from my kitchen to my sitting room. A small thing but a huge deal for me at this time. I got a bit tearful about it tbh.

Sut mae butties. Day 21 of lollygagging about wearing a dressing gown like a poundshop Hugh Hefner.

Sut mae. I erred towards the non-gory yesterday in the brief description of my op incision. It actually looks like I've been hit with an axe. 🫣

Sut mae butties. The dressing is off. The incision is much smaller than I expected and very clean. I can't see any stitches so my surgeon has done a very neat job. It's still feeling pretty sore and a bit painful but my leg didn't fall off when I peeled the dressing off so on to the next stage I go.

Sut mae butties. I get to remove the dressing from the incision site on my right leg later today and finally get a good look at it for myself. After some thought I reckon the adagio from Bartok's Music for Strings, Percussion & Celesta will be the perfect soundtrack to this queasy event.

Post op my right leg is now longer than my left leg. I now physically lean to the left and in so many ways this feels very, very apt.

#nowplaying Streaming out of Qobuz.

Another month, another Maigret. ##BookSky

Sut mae butties. I have one Oxy left from my post op stash. Do I indulge in a last dose of Bucky's "golden hour" or keep it for a possible future time in extremis? #PoncyLiterararyDrugConundrum

Shu mae. I've just been tag teamed by The District Nurses.

Sut mae. 9 entanglements.

Sut mae. In the face of so much hate and division what's an old man to do? Dig through his old portfolios and post a smidgen of colour on a gloomy Welsh Sunday morning. That's what.