While I am house hunting in Somerset, I am lucky enough to be sharing my friend Katie's cottage. Her cottage is a gatehouse cottage at the entrance of a long treelined drive leading to a grand Georgian Manor House, surrounded by ancient woodland and rolling green fields. Katie is a great friend of the family that live in the big house and so is in the privileged position of being allowed to wander their impeccably kept formal and romantic gardens, stroll the long avenues of wisteria and lime trees, visit the walled gardens and orangery, and swim in the swimming pool. Her own cottage garden is a little sanctuary of calm. Apart from the occasional car, a honk or two from next doors goose, the cluck and caw of the chickens and a few quacks from the ducks, it is pretty much silent. After being here for 6 weeks, I am officially ruined for anything else.
To buy a property like this would cost a fortune. To be lucky enough to have neighbours as lovely as hers would be miraculous and to be surrounded by such beauty would be unimaginable. I was brought up in a stunning village in Hampshire so the countryside has always been in me. I knew I wouldn't live in London forever and many of the people I've talked to, who have made the same move from urban to rural, wish they'd done it years ago. I have an inexplicable happiness here that is only achieved by nature. Last night, Katie and I took advantage of the early evening sun and went for a swim in the pool, and as I floated on my back I looked up at the blue sky and watched the tops of the tall lime trees sway in the breeze and I honestly thought, could anything be more blissful. The swallows were diving close to the pool's surface, chasing mosquitoes and midges, and there was not a sound apart from birds chattering and the buzz of bees. The only colours were the intense yellow-green of the rustling leaves, the soft blurred blue-green of the surrounding fields and the solid block of cyan sky. What a lucky girl I am, I thought, remember these moments.
Earlier in the day I had tagged on to a garden tour given by the head gardener and learnt a bit more about the family and history of the house and garden. I was at least 30 years younger than the group of white-haired garden lovers, hobbling with sticks and Zimmer frames around property, but I was totally swept up in their passion for everything they saw, asking the Latin names for mysterious wild orchids as they touched the petals with gentle knarled fingers, rubbing leaves and holding them to their noses, telling me stories of their own gardens. I want to grow flowers and watch the birds and bees enjoy my garden but sadly that is one of the trickiest things to find in my search for a home. Many of the period cottages in Frome used to share a space behind their houses, using the communal large courtyards for pigs and chickens, growing vegetables and washing clothes, and subsequently, these spaces have been divided into a warren of allotment style gardens, often displaced from the house. I have seen at least 8 cottages where I have looked out of the kitchen window to a beautiful sunny terrace to be told that it does not belong to the house, but the one next door. On several occasions I have walked out of the back door and found the property's garden 50 feet down a shared walkway. I love community but I don't want communal and I don't want to compromise on my four essential P's: Prettiness, privacy, peace & quiet and parking. But the longer I stay in this heavenly cottage of Katie's, the harder it gets. Sun and summer will only make it harder to leave so I have to stay positive and I have to keep looking.
And now from one extreme to the other, I go from nature to science. Actually its the science of nature. I have, once again, been used as a guinea pig for a new pain treatment. A new pain treatment for us in the West but I think it has been used for centuries in tribal communities around the world. It is the glorious chilli. To be more accurate, it is using the chilli pepper's intense hot and spicy qualities as an analgesic. It has been used for quite a few years on surface pain but now some of the more experimental hospitals have been trying it on deeper nerve pain. One of these hospitals is the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital in London, a hospital I spent weeks in last year, and even now, seem to visit more frequently than my friends! My knee surgeon suggested the treatment might work for the nerve damage in my leg. The big surgery I had a year and a half ago was successful in relieving the pain of the misalignment of my knee and lower thigh, but now I am left with the pain from the surgery itself... a few areas of intense sharp pain that I cannot seem to get any relief for, no matter what pain medication I've tried. I don't like the idea of having steroids and cortisone injects under my kneecap every few months so I decided I would agree to the chilli patches.
Who knew that chilli could be classified as a deadly weapon. The medical strength capsaicin they use is scary. It is one hundred times the strength of a habanero pepper and has to be applied to the patient in an operating theatre. The clinical nurses wear masks, goggles and 3 pairs of surgical gloves, as well as scrubs... just in case a drop of liquid escapes. And this is going on my knee? Okay then. I was prepped and pre-warned of what was going to happen. I would be given a hospital gown and socks to wear and the application would take place in a chilled room (to lessen the intense burning feeling of the capsaicin). Apart from the area being treated, I would be covered in warming blankets. Then the capsaicin would be applied to the painful area, it would be wrapped in bandages and I would be left for an hour. During that time, the intensity of the chilli would increase to almost unbearable but not to worry, morphine was close by. Oh good. Allergic reactions were common, swelling was normal, and the leg turning red or purple also happened a lot. If I went into anaphylactic shock, they had adrenalin ready as well. Good to know.
Everything happened as they described but just before I was wheeled in to the treatment room, they said they'd had a call from my surgeon, asking if they could apply the capaiscan to both knees. What? They explained that it might also help the pain in my right knee, the one that hasn't had surgery yet. The nurses explained that with both knees being treated, I would be very uncomfortable indeed. They hoped that was all right, and I duly signed my consent. Here's where it went weird. Both knees were treated and I waited for the burning to start. 10 minutes went by and I felt the merest tingling in my right knee, nothing in the left. 20 minutes, holy crap, hot right knee, nothing in the left. And so it continued. By 50 minutes, I was grabbing the bed as my right leg swelled, turned red and felt as if someone had poured burning oil over it. My left knee felt nothing. It was extraordinary. I mean I knew the nerve damage from surgery had left some areas numb but this was just odd. No reaction at all.
The nurses were absolutely bewildered as they took off my dressings. My right leg had almost doubled in size, it was bright red from mid shin to mid thigh and was on fire. On fire! My left leg was the same size and colour as before and I felt nothing. What does that mean exactly? Well, that's just it, no-one really knows. It's an experimental treatment for my type of pain but to see one leg react and the other not, has flummoxed the medical staff. 7 days later and there's not much to report I'm afraid. There doesn't seem to be any relief in pain which is a bit rubbish but will I be a guinea pig again? Of course I will. Squeak.