Towards the end of January the nice nurse who discharged me from hospital after my emergency hernia operation issued dire warnings of what might happen if I didn't avoid all strain to my newly-repaired stomach muscles for the next six weeks. Being a biddable sort of person when it really matters, I've obeyed her instructions, despite chafing at the restriction, so this is how I've been filling my time apart from blogging.
|Rather too much of this|
Now, finally, the six weeks are up and I’m looking forward to my new-found freedom. OK, it comes with some disadvantages, such as no longer having any excuse for not giving the vacuum cleaner its accustomed exercise, but it does mean I can finally get back into the swing of things and do something more physically demanding than knitting or desk work.
One of the casualties of this enforced period of rest has, of course, been clarinet practice. Playing a clarinet is very hard on the stomach muscles, which means that, after only a month of learning, I've had six weeks when I've not been allowed to blow a note. This afternoon I waved DH off for another visit to his mother, so this weekend I can practise to my heart’s content. What’s the betting that when I dust the cobwebs off the clarinet tomorrow, I’ll be back to my initial squeaks and odd notes? Ah well, I'd better take a lesson from Fred and Ginger...
Some images via Google