Breakfast Thoughts

Saturday morning, just after 8am and I am starving. It is a dilemma. Julia is having a lie in so if I start making breakfast I will probably disturb her with all the clattering in the kitchen. I will also be selecting a time for her to wake up, which is not really the point of a lie in. The whole concept really demands that you are allowed to wake when you want and ease yourself out from under the covers at a time you feel is suitable.

On the other hand, someone making breakfast for you is always a bonus.

As a compromise, although I’m hungry enough for a cooked breakfast, I may settle for a sensible, and quiet, meal of cereal and fruit.

It’s partly about consideration, but also partly about self-preservation. After 37 years I have learned not only to be sensitive to my wife’s welfare, but to wake her gently. She has a tendency to imitate the fabled bear with a sore head when woken suddenly, as I have found to my cost more than once.

Healthy Breakfast

No, I’m still feeling too peckish for cereal. Looks like I’m going to go for a cooked breakfast and risk the consequences, though a few harsh words are hardly a deterrent when compared to the more likely scenario of a heart attack. I just looked up heart attack and found myself smiling at the risk factors, which are very close to being a biography in my case. I note that one of the factors, which I had never seen before, is psoriatic arthritis, which is one of the two sorts I have.

I was half-expecting to read that using a keyboard with a missing “t” was a factor. It doesn’t seem to be on the list but “hostility” does, and I confess to feeling fairly hostile towards my keyboard a the moment.

As a finale, I managed to publish before the photos and title, so I can now mention “senior moment” too.

A Tale of Two Results

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My Orange Parker Pen

I have just had another poem accepted, a haiku. It is 8 words long and scarcely seems long enough to be a poem but i is, and you wouldn’t believe how hard they are to write. I don’t normally have haiku accepted, and I sometimes have them mentioned as the reason for rejecting haibun, so I am quite pleased with this. Perhaps I’m starting to get the hang of this, though I’ve thought that before and been wrong.

A little later, I had a rejection. My poetry does not “fit the shape of the issue”. All sorts of replies spring to mind. I could offer to write round poems perhaps . . .

In the end, I won’t. There’s no real etiquette for thanking someone for turning down your poetry for years on end that doesn’t risk being seen as sarcastic. Anyway, rejection rarely bothers me these days and in this case I sent my submissions expecting a rejection so it’s attracting my attention only because I need something to write about. Submitting to this particular periodical is actually more like an inoculation than a submission: I do it to ensure I keep my level of immunity topped up.

I have a submission window closing on the 15th, which is quite soon. It’s for haiku and I am going to polish up the rejects from this month and send them out again. Obviously, looking at them a second time will reveal a few with faults, but over half, maybe with the odd tweak, will be going out again. As I’ve said before, it’s surprising how many make it after two or three attempts.

Julia went to Nottingham by train earlier this week and passed this sign on he way. It commemorates Mallard’s world speed record.

Ten Minutes

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Ten minutes? That’s cutting it fine even by my standards.

Balfour Declaration Medal 1967 (Obverse) It is a big medallion – 59mm in diameter.

Much of today’s writing was about a bronze medal commemorating the 50th anniversary of the Balfour Declaration (1917). It’s often taken as an important step in the founding of the modern state of Israel.

Of course, by another interpretation, it’s also one of the steps in producing the events we now see in Gaza and the Middle East.

Balfour Declaration Medal 1967 (Reverse)

The trick in writing an article about this (it was part of the material in my postponed presentation “The Dark Side of the Medal”) is not in writing about the ramifications, or the political deals that were done, but in writing about it in a suitably neutral tone so nobody is offended by what I say.

My subject is not the rights and wrongs of Middle Eastern politics, but the man who designed the medal, the design and the fact that it is made in tombac. In numismatics we call a lot of medallions “bronze” when they aren’t. It’s a natural progression – gold, silver, bronze. Bronze is a mixture of copper and tin. Tombac is a mixture of copper and zinc. It’s cheaper, it can be made to look like bronze, or even gold, depending on the mix, but it is actually a type of brass.

The Balfour Declaration – well-meaning but, in hindsight, flawed

The campaign stars of the Second World War were made from tombac, as were some Canadian wartime coins.

Designer’s name

The designer of the Balfour medal is Paul Vincze, (1907– 94) a Jewish-Hungarian sculptor who moved to the UK in 1938 to avoid Nazi persecution. He had a distinctive style and is probably best known for his series of 1964 Shakespeare medallions celebrating the 400th anniversary of the playwright’s birth. He also designed coins for Ghana, Guinea, Libya, Malawi and Nigeria.

Shakespeare Medallion by Paul Vincze

Yes, I cheated. I published then went back to add the photos as I got to 11.59 and only 230 words.

The Dull Daily Post

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Mute Swan Carsington Water

After last night’s close shave (I pressed the button with a minute to spare) I thought I’d write the daily post in plenty of time. It’s 8.45, I’ve scuffled through a bit of poetry in my files and established tha I have about 16 poems that are either finished or close to being finished. That should do me for this month as I need between six and nine.

Some of them have been “close to being finished” for several months now, as it’s quite a general category.

Apart from that, looking a my emails (nothing of interest) and answering three comments, there is little to report. I’m just wondering what to do for breakfast, then I’m going to get ready for the doctor and, after that is over, I will take Julia on an expedition to find someone to alter her wedding suit.

It’s nice to get out and about and be useful, but less satisfactory to be used as a taxi service.

That’s the trouble with early blogging. I’ve done nothing to report. If I leave it late, however, I’ve forgotten most of the events of the day, and sometimes, as last night, run out of time.

World events continue to be farcical when viewed from afar. However, I feel guilty for saying that, as I’m sure they are less funny close up.

I’m still not clear why countries can’t just leave each other alone. You don’t need to agree with your neighbour, but you don’t need to invade it either.

Mute Swan

Sand and Broken Needles

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Suddenly I have 14 minutes till midnight. It doesn’t really matter because I can get back on course, but it always seems better if I can manage one a day. There may be no photos.

Yesterday I forgot to tell you that we had Sahara dust on the car. It’s nice to know we are part of a worldwide weather phenomenon. By today it had washed off.

It was another early morning as I am back driving and took Julia to wood turning. It took us ten minutes to get there, then I had to join the queue of traffic to get back. That took half an hour. It’s road design and tidal flow. I have to pass the big school complex on the way back, and quite a few people are also going to work a the enterprise park next to us. It annoys me as there is no real alternative. There are alternatives, but one is often gridlocked and the other involves driving ten miles out of my way. Pleasanter, but pointless.

She returned bearing a nice turned pen stand to go with the pen she did for Number One Son’s birthday, and a piece of wood that might make an unseasonal snowman or a strangely shaped vase. Some times the tools do their own thing . . .

I was more productive today and am finally regaining control over my life, which has been a sorry affair for the first two months of the year, with constant infections.

I also forgot to tell you I had a broken injector pen at the weekend. I pushed it, it clicked, the needle seemed to go home, then nothing . . . (You are supposed to here a return click when it finishes). So I pushed it again. It was quite painful and felt a little jagged, though I think that was just imagination. Then it clicked to signal it had finished, which was a relief.

Late Night Post and Consequences

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Two Admiral Vernon Medallions – the War of Jenkins’ Ear

After posting last night I went on to work into the early hours doing internet research on a medallion I am writing up for the Numismatic Society. It took about three hours (time flies when you are engrossed) and I ended up with several pages of notes and a lot of other information which I left floating around in my head.

I had to be up reasonably early in the morning to get ready for going to he doctor so only had four and a half hours sleep. I can function on that. In fact I did for many years. These days, being less enthused and energetic, I tend to fall asleep in front of TV so my “four hours” tend to spread by a good two or three hours as the day goes on. That’s what happened today.

Flying Horse of Gansu medallion – obverse

I dropped off for an hour in the morning in a break from typing and I slept for a couple of hours this evening, missing Pointless. During Richard Osman’s House of Games I was definitely not up to speed and after Mastermind, was left feeling slow. I knew the answers but I couldn’t dig them out quickly enough.

At the moment, I am only halfway through the article, have done very little poetry and didn’t bake the cheese scones I was thinking about. With a full night of sleep I would have managed them all.

Just when I thought I’d corrected my bad sleep habits they sneak back . . .

Shakespeare Medallion by Paul Vincze

It’s difficult to say whether I would have achieved more if I’d gone to bed at the proper time last night, as I would probably have drifted off course anyway. Though I might have been sharper at the quizzes.

Tomorrow is another earlyish start as I am now well enough to start taking Julia to wood turning. While I’ve been ill she has been going by bus.

What I Ate On Sunday

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23.19

Almost too late to post. Better be quick.

Healthy Breakfast

Breakfast was weetabix style cereal (TESCO) own brand is a lot cheaper and, I imagine, no less good for me). We had blueberries and bananas on it, which are both, I admit, out of season and have to be shipped in. Then we had toast and marmalade. It’s Sunday – so we pushed the boat out.

Lunch was yellow split pea soup (which included sweet potato, carrot, celery, leeks and onions) it was OK. We had a Stilton cheese sandwich with mango chutney too. One part good, one part bad.

On her return from the tearoom Julia brought some surplus Victoria sponge. It was borderline dry (which was why they gave it away) but a nice treat.

Carrot & Ginger Soup

For tea we had slightly tasteless steak pies from freezer (this week is a week for emptying the freezer), baked potatoes, carrots, parsnips and leeks with gravy.

For dessert I had quite a lot of medication, followed by half a packet of small Easter eggs.

After years of reading what Derrick had to eat, I expected my list would be quite interesting, but it wasn’t. It’s either mundane, slightly faulty or (like the Stilton and mango chutney sandwich) far too decadent and fat-filled to admit to. They Stilton is currently perfectly ripe.

Before batching – Date and Stilton Scones. I must try them again.

It was nice to get back to being able to cook (you can always ell when I am on he mend, because I start cooking again. When I’m ill I become lethargic, floppy and lazy and let Julia do all the work.

As I checked emails before starting to write, I see I have had a tanka accepted. That makes it a good day.

23.31

Twelve minutes for 280 words – not bad.

23.36

Tags and photos done.

Just need a title . . .

Trials, Tribulations and Thoughts of Being Thin

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I fell asleep in front of the TV after lunch. Julia was down at the tea room and I was lost in a dream about breaking up a drug ring and had just been stabbed by the ringleader when I woke up to find Father Brown on TV. My first thought was “Ah! Last Rites!” but then I realised it was just a dream.

(The “t” key on my keyboard is getting worse, and just failed to register another one. Fortunately I saw it, but it may be time for a new keyboard.)

The panic about dying gave way to a panic about trying to work out what time it was, as I was due at the doctor at 3pm. At that point the alarm went off. I had set it for a reminder, but it was 2.15. It helped me focus and I was able to get ready and arrived at the doctor with nearly ten minutes to spare. Fortunately there was only one other person in the waiting room as, with my immunosuppressants, I don’t like being in a room with a load of sick people.

I had a magazine today through the post. About 18 months ago the editor appealed for articles. I sent him two, which he seemed to like, and then a third after he published the first one. A year later, neither of the remaining two have been used. I’m a bit irritated, to say the least. However, he’s a volunteer and is now resigning and looking for someone to take over. If I were younger I would have a go, but as I’ve been ill for nearly two months this year I don’t think I have he energy or reliability to do it.

I returned and found that te dustmen had finally been (a day late) it seems there have been a couple of breakdowns and they are short of transport. Fortunately it was he recycling rather than anything that would go rotten.

Julia then returned , I finished an article I was writing and sent it off. We then both fell asleep in front of the TV and on waking decided that a modest Chinese delivery might be in order as long as we eat modestly tomorrow. Oh! The trials and tribulations of trying to be thin.

Bah! That was a bad sentence to try with a “t” that sticks. At least I have a title.

Butterflies and Simnel Cake

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Peacock – our first butterfly of 2015

Another good night’s sleep. This seems to be a side effect of sorting my health out properly, but it’s early days so far so I won’t get too cheerful just yet.

I have a big day of article writing planned, but after the last few days I am not feeling confident. I’ve slipped back into my old procrastinating ways during the last week or two, and have also been taking it easy because I’ve been ill. The two combined have led to a drop in productivity for articles and a struggle to finish any poetry properly.

Despite that I still think I’m being more productive than I was at the end of last year, so this is good.

Mint Moth

I am, once more, struggling to find any fluidity in the blog. As I spend most of the day doing boring things this isn’t surprising. I also write in the morning, by which time I have usually forgotten anything exciting. I may have to start writing in the evening, but experience with that suggests I will end up forgetting to post, or will end up writing after midnight, which is not good.

We had a Brimstone in the garden yesterday. This is three or four we have spotted this spring, which feels optimistic. Julia bought some seeds yesterday (she was out at the Garden Centre with my sister) which are a mix to provide food for butterflies and insects. We will be planning more sunflowers this year too. Small plans, but at least we are still planning.

She also bought simnel cake. It was very good but regrettably small. However, it is a proper seasonal treat, unlike mince pies which now stretch from September to December and Hot Cross Buns, which are almost available all year.

Red Admiral

There is, it seems a move afoot to change the date of Mothering Sunday (commonly known as Mother’s Day) in the UK to match up with Mother’s Day in the USA. Just another bit of cultural colonialism from the USA.

Mother’s Day in the USA dates from just before the Great War and was meant to celebrate motherhood, though it quickly became criticised for being overly commercial. Mothering Sunday in the UK is a religious festival going back to around the 8th Century, though it is now generally known as Mother’s Day these days and is also very commercial. The date is set as the fourth Sunday in Lent rather than a fixed date. The two days are basically the same, but I don’t see why they need to be on the same date.

Comma

It Started So Well

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For some reason I woke up feeling quite bright and cheerful this morning. I think it was probably the unexpected good night’s sleep that did the trick. I still woke twice in he night, but after each time I fell back into deep slumber and woke refreshed.

Gregg’s Vegan Sausage Roll

Lots of stuff has happened since my last post, but although I made mental notes, I seem to have forgotten most of it and can’t think of anything to say. Not only that, but the days has slid through my fingers like a Vaselined viper and I have, as yet, nothing to show for my continuing existence.

The rotary dryer in the back garden has now completely ceased to function. It’s about a year old and should have had years of useful life. Despite Julia’s undoubted talent at wrecking anything that moves I think we can put this down to the first builder we used, the one I tend to think of as The Expensive Mistake. He was supposed to source us a good quality dryer and install it. Normally, as I recall, you cement a socket into the ground. This one, which I assume is poor quality from the way it has broken, was set directly into a block of cement.

I don’t have an itemised bill, but I do remember from a rough calculation I made at the time, that i would have been cheaper to hire a lawyer to do the work. A lawyer would probably have made a better job too, as much of the work has already needed redoing. It isn’t worth the hassle of trying to get him to do the work properly, or get a refund, which is what cowboy builders rely on.

I am conflicted because I don’t like being ripped off and like to stand up for myself, but I just don’t need the aggravation.

We have had five tradesmen since we moved in. There was The Expensive Mistake and then the Rip-Off Gardener. I asked Julia not to take him on, but she went ahead and it did not turn out well.

Fortunately we have then had the fencing man, the handyman and the conservatory roofers. The first two were very good and were reasonably priced. The third was very good but I was left with a feeling that I was funding a lavish lifestyle.

I’s hard finding trustworthy tradesmen when you are new to an area. It wasn’t easy finding them in Nottingham, though they tended to be cheaper than they are in Peterborough.

The photos are from March 2019 and they are pictures of things I am no longer able to eat under my new dietary regime.

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Life after the Care Farm