Pain in the Neck?

          It was during an extended period of travelling that I began to suspect the mattress at home was the cause of my lower-back pain. Most mornings, for the last couple of years, I have been obliged to perform certain stretches that ease the muscles so that I can bend without wincing. Yet, when rising from other beds elsewhere, I have sprung into action without so much as a twinge. So, the argument for buying a new mattress was compelling and, after some research, I acquired what I hoped might be the right type. I can return it after a trial period (do they really take used mattresses back and, if so, what do they do with them?) but, so far, so good. So good, in fact, that I’m inclined to ask for a refund from the ineffectual physiotherapist I consulted recently. So, I have made my bed and now I will lie on it.

          It was, then, without pain that I bent to the task of cycling yesterday to the Devonport Naval Heritage Centre for a close look at the driving force of our local history. The collection of artefacts is spread around three re-purposed stone buildings that date back to the 1820s, which lends authenticity to the experience. However, because the whole thing is run by volunteers and with minimal funding, it has its shortcomings – accessibility and dodgy displays being two of them. But the enthusiastic volunteers can be relied upon to supplement the story with tales and reminiscences of their own, since they are all retired from either the Royal Navy or the Royal Naval Dockyard. But however much they might regret it, their ‘glory days’ are over, I’m sure. Nobody wants ships full of men to be torpedoed when drones can be employed to slug it out instead. Or do they?

          One of the buildings is dedicated to the origins of the Navy, the era of sail, and it was here that I was reminded that many phrases used to this day originated in maritime adventuring. For example, the side of a sailing ship was called a board. So, if any rigging was carried away in a storm, it was said to be “gone by the board”. Likewise, anything on the top deck of a ship or open to inspection was referred to as “above board”. So intrigued was I by these snippets that I walked right into a low-slung hammock with a dummy sailor in it. He looked uncomfortable and I’d bet they suffered terrible back-pain in those days.

          I absorbed more local history during the week when I visited the ancestral home of the Edgcumbe family, across the river in Cornwall. The estate has been publicly owned since 1971, when the 7^th earl decided he’d had enough and sold it to a consortium comprising Cornwall County Council and Plymouth City Council. The story is that he, a nephew of the childless 6^th earl, had inherited unexpectedly and, having meanwhile made a life for himself as a sheep farmer in New Zealand, was urged to come back to England and his lordly duties. But he just could not settle to his aristocratic circumstances. Indeed, he showed his plebeian tendencies by taking up with a local barmaid and establishing her in his four-poster (which looked jolly comfortable, by the way). In the end, he tired of trying to keep up the social appearances expected of his forbears, took the money and ran.

          By the way, no sooner did my back recover, than my Other Half reported having developed a troublesome stiff neck. So, today, I took delivery of a pair of (very expensive) pillows from the company that made the mattress, in the hope that her condition will be alleviated – and that I will not develop one similar. Of course, it is a bit of a long shot*.

* Early ships’ guns tended to be inaccurate. If a shot made impact from a great distance, or a “long shot,” it was considered out of the ordinary.