In my monthly review, written a week ago, I mentioned a vicious new problem that had made its appearance in our lives: Nigel's unremitting headaches.

They are very much clipping our wings at the moment, and causing no little anxiety.

As a result, our travels over the last week have resembled the kind of thing we used to do in lockdown: endlessly, endlessly walking the same paths.

Not helping is the fact that the weather has been a total pain of late. You dress for wind and rain, and then the sun bursts forth, and you're hot. You peel off layers, and then the wind and rain are back again. Seriously irritating. I am so very, very over winter... I've been staunch for so long, but when it's still completely foul in April, then it's just sucky.

Anyway, here, for what it's worth, is a little record of the week:

Apart from Medical Tuesday (more on that later), the furthest we have been is Ilkeston, West Hallam's nearest town-of-any-stature, about four miles distant.

Ilkeston is where we do our Click & Collect. And Ilkeston is where we headed on Saturday to take advantage of their market. Not a patch on Newark's, but at least you can buy fresh fruit and veggies.

Ilkeston was mentioned in the Domesday Book (but mis-spelled as Tilchestune, which must have been annoying).

As the 18th century turned into the 19th, framework knitting was still the key industry. But it was a struggling one: "This trade underwent a series of crises during which wages were cut and many frameworkers found themselves almost slaves to the framesmiths, having to rent the machines upon which they worked. Long hours and low wages caused a petition to be presented to Parliament highlighting the frameworkers demands for better working conditions. The decline in the trade was in some way compensated by the gradual expansion of the local textile trade and by 1850, Ilkeston was home to five hosiery and six lace factories."

Oh, how many sad stories must be hiding behind those lines...

Coal was also rising in prominence, and the late 18th century saw the opening of the Erewash and Nutbrook Canals, designed to carry coal from local mines (plus other products) to the Trent.

In 1901, the population stood at just over 25,000: "By this time Ilkeston had become a thriving industrial town with the prosperous industries of coal extraction, ironworking and the production of lace and textiles providing employment for many local families."

But the mines went, and the mills went. Rutland Mill, once a producer of gloves and hosiery, and a major employer, is now apartments:



And Ilkeston seems to be struggling a bit. Its crime rate is a black mark, it seems. And this article from 2015, about the fortunes of the high street, sounds a little as though it's whistling to keep its spirits up. TL;DR: "These are still challenging times for the businesses but there are signs of possible regeneration."

Certainly, there are a lot of closed and repurposed shops...

I don't know. It's hard to judge, as an outsider. But you do get the impression there isn't much money going spare around here...

Any which way, there's lots that's handsome:










The far reaches of Ilkeston excepted, we have stuck a lot around our base in West Hallam:










And at home:


Then there's Mapperley, a very short walk from West Hallam, along pleasantly quiet roads.

This is a nice little site, recounting village history through old photos, newspaper clippings, and reminiscences. Here, for example, we learn about plans made in 1966 for a big celebration the following year:

"A total of 75 pounds has so far been received towards financing the 700th anniversary celebrations of the granting of the Royal Charter [in 1267] allowing the village of Mapperley to have an annual fair. The village has never taken advantage of the charter but will next year hold a day's special events to mark the occasion. At a meeting of the committee set up in the village to organise the event, the chairman, Councillor J. Wood, announced that as a result of a house-to-house collection in Mapperley..., 23 pounds and 10 shillings had been collected from the 370 inhabitants. Mr. Wood also read a letter from Capt. P. Drury-Lowe, who confirmed that he will provide a deer to be ceremoniously roasted on a spit during the celebrations... An offer of a large piece of coal for a weight-judging contest was received in a letter from Mr. W. Miron, chairman of the East Midlands Division of the National Coal Board. Mr. Miron said that although the board could offer no cash contribution, they felt that such a gift would be a small acknowledgment and a symbol of the contributions given by the people of Mapperley over the years to the mining industry."

(The lump of coal was duly delivered to the car park of the Old Black Horse, and members of the public, on payment of one shilling each, were invited to guess the weight of the lump, with the owner of the most accurate estimate due to receive the coal. It tipped the scales at 1 ton 19 cwts and 56 lbs -- such quaint measurements, and in my lifetime too -- and the winner donated the prize to the village's pensioners.)

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I mentioned Medical Tuesday, which went like this:

We'd managed to book a phone consultation with an NHS GP, as the original private doctor had said that no improvement within a week would signal the need to actually SEE someone. First a medical student phones, and takes the details. Then the actual doctor phones. You need to come over, she said. So we head for Newark. (Time was when you could visit a GP wherever it was you happened to be on holiday. No longer...) Consultation. You need to get tests, she said. So we head for the King's Mill emergency care unit. Over a space of 4.75 hours, Nigel is triaged, tested, questioned, prodded, poked, talked to, and given a prescription for painkillers. That's right: 4.75 hours (and the cafe closes at 4 pm, and all that's available from the vending machines is junk). At time of writing, there has been some small improvement. But we are very far from out of the woods, and it's all horribly stressful.