Monthly Archives: April 2020

Appointments, Complaints and Click & Collect

I can smell pasties. They are warming rather than baking in the oven, because I bought them instead of making them. In the end they will still taste good and it has saved time.

I couldn’t bake at the moment even if I wanted to. I do not have enough flour. I did have some on order for my Click and Collect run tomorrow, but I see they have cancelled it because they have run out.

It looks like I will be shopping in person next week because I cannot get a delivery or a Click and Collect slot for the next three weeks. Looks like I’m going to have to disguise myself as a pensioner again and see what is on the shelves. They cancelled my broccoli too, and the antiseptic wipes. It’s not much of a service really, even on the rare occasion when you can get a slot. Tomorrow I have to drive to the opposite side of town to do my shopping, but as it limits my contact to one shop assistant in a car park rather than dozens of shelf stackers and pensioners in the shop, I’m prepared to put up with the inconvenience.

Julia had an email last week, telling her she had an appointment with the doctor today at 11.10. She rang just after the email to query it but the receptionist said that the appointment had been entered on the system by the doctor herself and (a) she couldn’t tell Julia what was about or (b) why it was necessary to go to the surgery. You could probably have added (c) couldn’t be bothered to find out. To be fair they seem to be working with just one receptionist these day, so she probably didn’t have time to do anything else.

A few days later I had a letter from the hospital telling me that my telephone appointment with rheumatology had been brought forward and that I had to be at the hospital for 10.45 on Thursday morning. This arrived on Saturday so I had to wait until today to ring and check.

We obviously weren’t happy with these appointments as there’s no point in self-isolating if you get called out by the NHS to mingle with all manner of sick people.

We were on the point of leaving for Julia’s appointment when the phone rang.It was the doctor.

“Oh!” Said Julia, “I’m just setting off for the appointment now.”

This puzzled the doctor, who thought she’d arranged for a telephone appointment. Clearly, there is room for improvement with the system.

I then rang the hospital. It took me over twenty five minutes to get an answer as everyone passed me on or avoided picking up the phone. Eventually I did get an answer, the letter was a mistake and they would phone me to conduct the appointment.

So again, a system that isn’t working. It’s difficult to understand how, having sent me one letter with a telephone appointment, they didn’t just reprint it with the new details. This isn’t really a problem due to the coronavirus, it’s a problem with basic inefficiency.

However, I smiled and thanked everybody as they passed me on. They have enough problems without me grumbling and complaining.

But it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to grumble and complain on here – if we’d left five minutes earlier than planned, or if I’d just turned up at hospital what would they have done then?

Just to make my day worse the card reader on the computer packed up. I really don’t know why they can’t build one that lasts. Camera manufacturers seem able to build durable systems, why can’t computer manufacturers?

Fortunately, the pasties and ratatouille were good, and the rhubarb and apple crumble was excellent, so it all turned out well in the end. There is little that can’t be improved by the addition of fruit crumble.

Sorry about the lack of photos – I took an easy shortcut and duplicated a couple of recent shots.

Robin

The Bludgeonings of Chance

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Three weeks ago we had freedom, full shops and nothing to fear, and we didn’t appreciate how lucky we were.

Three weeks ago it was cold and I was wearing a fleece and jumper in the house and sleeping under two duvets. Now I have discarded the fleece and jumper and a duvet. However, it looks like the cold may be making a return, so things may not have changed as much as I thought.

Chives

Cranesbill

PoppyRA

Three weeks ago I was always tired, as I never managed to get any decent sleep. These days I am remarkably well rested and and my life has taken on a natural rhythm, which sees me sitting up until the early hours then sleeping in until it is time to get up and eat brunch. It’s not a way of living that will survive the resumption of work, but it’s very relaxing.

For me, life in lockdown has not been too bad. There have been bits where I worried about where all the food had gone, and even a short period where I worried about dying. Then I realised that I wasn’t going to starve and that there was nothing I could do about dying. So I forgot to worry.

I’m not really worrying about anything right now. I’m taking steps to ensure a good supply of food and I’m keeping myself isolated but that’s not the same as lying awake at night worrying about starvation and death.

I have accumulated a number of health problems that are mainly to do with over-indulgence, and if the coronavirus gets me it will be my own fault. To be honest, until I read the information on factors that might lead to my death I didn’t even think I was ill. I kept reading about elderly people with underlying health problems and thinking “Poor sods. I’m glad I’m not one of them.”

Poppy

Honeysuckle

Allium

Then I actually read the list and realised I was one of them.

I am currently preparing for death by looking up famous last words and combing through poetry for suitable quotes.

It doesn’t do to be morbid. On the other hand it’s just as well to have your famous last words ready, because if they aren’t good enough they may never become famous.

Burntstump Country Park, Notts

The photographs are, again, from a time when I was allowed to drive to places and walk round.

Rhubarb, Ratatouille and a Recipe

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The main feature of the day has been the succession of texts and phonecalls.

The first one, from an unknown number, was a bit of a worry as there is always a chance that it is bad news. Once I found out it wasn’t bad news I decided that it’s nice to know there are people out there, despite the isolation. Several of the calls have been people checking to make sure we have everything we need, which is comforting, though it does make me feel old.

I am now watching TV, blogging and breathing in the comforting scent of rhubarb crumble as it cools in the kitchen.

I am mentally preparing myself to cook tea. It’s not that cooking tea is difficult, but as I’m doing a roast it has to be at least as good as the one Julia made a couple of days ago. It’s the same meat, warmed up, but the trimmings all need doing and it won’t do to make a mess of things or she will mention it several times a day for the next week.

Rede Crested Pochard – Arnot Hill Park

We will be having carrots (because I have bought too many recently), parsnips, sprouts, broccoli and asparagus. We don’t usually have asparagus, but variety is good for us and I threw it in the basket without thinking about what it would go with.

That’s the problem with lockdown, you have to spend so much time planning your food. I was very well organised at one time but after moving to the city and being near a supermarket that was open 24 hours (apart from Sunday) I have let things slip. It has been hard getting them back in line and, with some groceries being short it has been tempting to put a little extra in the basket.

First, there is the menu for 7-10 days, then there is working out the shopping list, ensuring that things won’t go off and actually getting into a shop. At that point you have to hope you can get everything you need, make substitutions, and resist the temptation to add too many snacks. I think I may have covered that before, when talking about the cake and biscuits that found their way into my basket on Wednesday.

Julia is managing to keep her exercise routine up by gardening, working out and running on the spot. My regime of lifting the remote control, walking to the kettle and a little light typing, is not quite so healthy, though it seems to work for me. That’s why I need to cut down on snacks and resist the cake.

Tufted Duck – Arnot Hill Park

Tomorrow I am going to cook a pan of carrot soup. I really have bought too many carrots.

I’m also going to look at a recipe for Burnt Aubergine Chilli Number One Son sent me. It involves, as you may guess, burning an aubergine. Gas will do nicely, according to the recipe, and a barbecue will give it a nice smokey flavour. The recipe is strangely uninformative about the likely results using a garden flamethrower to do the charring. No doubt it will make for an interesting experiment for the middle of the week.

It’s about time to vary the menu. In fact, if the lockdown is extended for another couple of weeks, it is essential. Much more ratatouille and I’m likely to have a meltdown. We will be having it tomorrow (ratatouille, that is, not a meltdown), and I’m looking on it as a penance rather than a meal. Crumble, on the other hand, is always a pleasure. I will finish now as it’s time to eat.

The photo theme of the day is ducks.

They are interesting, cheerful, and they taste good.

Mandarin Duck – Arnot Hill Park

Pictures of Happier Times

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I couldn’t find the photos I was looking for, so I hope these make a suitable substitute.

Captain Cook – Whitby

Whale Jaw – Whitby

Captain Cook’s Plinth

Microlight at Sandsend

This group is from the Whitby area, in the days when we used to get into the car and drive where we liked. With hindsight, we should probably have done less driving, both from the viewpoint of pollution and cost. We will be making some changes once the lockdown finishes.

Daffodils

Forsythia

Daffodils

Grape Hyacinths

Spring flowers are always good – I am missing them at the moment as we live in an urban area and the local front gardens are a bit of a wasteland. We will be looking at the front garden with a view to making it more of a spring garden – at the moment it is great for butterflies and pollinators but it is only just about to start. We should look at starting the flowering earlier. We have said this before but always put it off on the grounds we have plenty of time. As current events show, this isn’t actually true.

Scones – Thoresby

Scones – John Lewis

Scones – Peterborough

Apart from driving where we liked, we could also have as much food as we liked. The fragility of our supply chain has been an eye-opener over the last month, as has the behaviour of panic-buyers. It has been very dispiriting to see pictures of bins of discarded food at a time when some people are struggling to get any at all.

After holding back and buying only what we needed, we spent a nervy couple of weeks worrying about supplies. If it ever happens again I’m not sure what I’d do, because our political masters and supermarket CEOs were wide of the mark when they talked of “plenty” of food being available and “robust” supply chains. I haven’t been able to buy flour or even a bread kit for the last month. We even had two weeks when we couldn’t buy courgettes or potatoes.

Robin

Sheep in Derbyshire

Robin in a Garden Centre Cafe

Finally, a few Robins and a sheep – something to look forward to as things return to something that resembles normality. I’m not sure they will ever be quite as they were because I sense we are all a little more afraid of what the future may hold for us.

It’s tempting to get philosophical and political here, but instead I’ll end with a feelgood story.

Lockdown Trivia

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Just a few things that may escape future historians.

We lost our first potato yesterday. Julia put her hand in the bag and winced as she found a rather squashy potato. This is not good, as I have just been saying that we have avoided food waste. I don’t like waste, and I particularly don’t like waste when I’ve just been telling people how well I’m handling the situation.

Shortly after that I spotted mould on the sliced loaf we are using. That’s the problem with buying bread and trying to eke it out for a week. You either end up with dry bread or mouldy bread. I will take the affected slice out and hope that Julia doesn’t spot it.

We will now use the loaf from the freezer and replace it on Wednesday.

We are doing the best we can, only going out once a week or ten days for food. Unfortunately, the doctor and pharmacist call us out, even though we’d rather not go. The neighbours aren’t trying quite so hard.

Tulips at Harlow Carr

One set is particularly annoying. They had a friend round two days ago to help with some work in the garden, and then they had family round yesterday.

It’s difficult not going out, and time-consuming to plan our eating so that we only shop every week or ten days, but we are doing it. We don’t want to be responsible for infecting anyone or over-loading the NHS and, despite feeling indestructible most of the time, I don’t want anyone to give it to me. I don’t mind having it, but I’d prefer to wait until it becomes less crowded in hospital.

I could ring the police, or use the on-line form the police are now using, but I don’t really want to go down that route. It’s bad enough being in the middle of a lockdown without having the additional burden of becoming a police informer.

Mencap Garden in Spring

Three weeks ago we were advised against travel, two weeks ago we were locked down and this week I’m having to wrestle with the concept of reporting my neighbours for having family round for Easter. It’s like something out of the old Communist Bloc.

A few hours ago I watched news footage of mass graves in New York. It feels like watching something from the Great Plague rather than something I’m living through. I’m hoping, that all the bloggers I know over there will stay safe. I don’t think I know any from Kansas, but if I did I’d be really worried, as the State Governor is going to court to stop the State Legislature overturning her decision on limiting church services over Easter.

I thought our politicians were bad, but this is descending to a new level. If the Pope and the Archbishop of Canterbury are happy to stream their Easter services from empty churches, I don’t see why it isn’t good enough for Kansas.

The pictures are, again, a selection from the last year. For my next selection I may feature a few photographs with crowds in them – don’t worry, they will be historic crowds rather than current ones.

Thistles at Bangor

Too Much Time, Too Many Thoughts

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Last night I became pensive. It’s one of those words, like costive, that you don’t see often, and it generally isn’t a good thing. (As a subsidiary thought, I checked costive to make sure I had the meaning right, and was amused to find it had a second meaning, which seems descriptively appropriate – “slow or reluctant in speech or action; unforthcoming”).

This state of mind was caused by an ill-advised look at property websites. I’ve recently been forming an ambition to return to the East of England as my sister and all Julia’s siblings are there. The thought that formed in my mind was that I should sell everything of value to raise money and reduce clutter, and look for a cheap house in Norfolk.

There are two sorts of house in Norfolk – the ones that I can’t afford and the ones that I don’t want to live in (otherwise known as the ones I can afford). I would like the one I found that has several sheds and a private mooring on one of the Broads. Based on current estimates of my worth, including the jar of £1 coins and the stuff down the sides of the chair cushions, I definitely can’t afford it.

Mencap Garden April 2019

The ones I can afford are generally small, Victorian and badly designed. They normally have a bathroom that was added long after they were built, which is right at the back of the house (having been built as an extension to the kitchen). That’s a long trip for a man with a bad knee and a substandard bladder. They are, in short, great value houses to start in, but not that great when you are looking at somewhere for your twilight years.

At that point I started comparing my life to the one I had planned for myself as a teenager.

Compared to the life I had planned when I was 14, my current life is deficient in sunshine, palm trees, cocktails and bikini-clad women. However, as my bald head burns badly, I hardly drink and I’m married, I don’t really notice these things.

When I was 16 I wanted to be a University Lecturer in History. The dream, by now, featured sunshine, manicured college lawns, real ale and female undergraduates.

I suppose you are starting to form some conclusions about the way my mind worked as a teenager.

The dream came to an abrupt end when I was shouted at by a careers teacher. “Don’t waste my time. Teaching is what people say when they can’t thing of anything else to say!”

I’d said teaching because it seemed less pretentious that University Lecturer and didn’t want to upset him. I’m not sure it worked. To be charitable, it’s possible, as an ex-metalwork teacher who had been moved into careers advising (despite, I feel it is fair to say, a lack of talent for careers teaching) that he nursed a grudge against the profession and didn’t want me to end up like him.

By the time I was 18 I was working on a poultry farm, worrying about money and wondering where my dreams had gone. To a large extent, this is still the same today, though with fewer chickens and more arthritis.

That was what caused my introspection.

Mencap Garden April 2019

Fortunately these episodes don’t generally survive the sunrise and after writing about it (well, you need to write about something) and eating a bacon sandwich I am ready for the rest of the day. I’m currently watching an item on TV about a woman with a collection of 400 novelty teapots and reading the internet about more people getting into trouble for their comments on Boris Johnson.

This multi-tasking stuff is getting easier as time goes on.

The End of the Day

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Just a few more musings on things I didn’t cover in the earlier post.

I noticed, while shopping yesterday, that my thoughts were turning more to sugar. It tested my self-control yesterday, enmeshed as I was in a shop filled with cake, hot cross buns and chocolate eggs, but I got through it.

Well, I say I “got through it”. I got through it in the sense that I bought Belgian buns, Battenberg cake, two small chocolate rabbits and a bag of mini eggs. It’s not much for a week as long as you spread it out, and could have been a lot worse. I’m hoping that next week will be slightly more disciplined.

Number Two Son rang Julia. He was trying to reassure her that he was OK and back in employment, this time at a bank call centre. It’s nice to know he’s financially secure but now she’s worrying that he’ll catch something off his co-workers.

It seems a local politician has lost her job over remarks she made about Boris Johnson being in hospital. To be honest, though the comments were ill-judged and discourteous I think things are being blown out of all proportion. She was also inaccurate in saying Boris was the worst PM we’ve ever had – we’ve had far worse, though to be fair he hasn’t really got into his stride yet.

As I write this, I have a massive pan of ratatouille cooking. I carried on buying aubergines even though I couldn’t get courgettes on my last couple of shopping trips. They are now starting to go brown in places so I decided to get them cooked now and then store the results.I’m determined not to waste a morsel of food, though it can be tricky with all the fresh veg I’m trying to store.

Despite the pronouncements of this brain-dead mother of two, we aren’t all throwing food away. In the last three weeks we have thrown away a couple of cupfuls of milk that went off. I just couldn’t be bothered to find a suitable use for it. Sorry. I will do better if it happens again.

I note from the article, and the pictures with it, that she “had” to throw stuff away, including Worcester Sauce, Soy Sauce and two jars of pickled onions. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never found that those products actually go off. They certainly don’t go off three weeks after they were bought as part of a panic-buying spree.

That, I think, covers the bits I missed last time. Tonight’s tea was roasted veg (potatoes, carrots, parsnips, leek) with a bought-in chicken pie, broccoli and gravy. Tomorrow’s tea will be fish pie, because we need to eat the fish. On Friday we will start on the ratatouille. If we eat it with something out of the freezer we will have space to freeze some ratatouille.

Inn the garden, poppies are getting ready to bloom and the Red Valerian is preparing to burst out.

Red Valerian, about to flower

A Relaxing Sort of Day

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This morning I read several blog posts, did some writing and resisted the temptation to turn on the TV.

We had tomatoes and mushrooms on sourdough toast for lunch (my slightly chaotic buying has landed us with a surfeit of mushrooms), the post arrived (bearing a parcel of tomato plants and woolen twine for Julia) and we are now watching Father Brown on TV.

The post also held our letter from the government. Just in case we hadn’t heard, it tells us, amongst other things, to stay at home. This has already been covered in so many ways in the last few weeks that this further message is superfluous. No doubt it seemed useful at the time they thought of it, but it’s been a bit slow in coming and is now just waste paper.

Later, I intend to do some shredding and watch Pointless.

Ah, shredding…

It took some doing. I hate to think how many sheets we did, but it took the two of us over an hour to do it, mostly by hand as the shredder didn’t show a lot of enthusiasm for the job.

When I took over managing the youth side of the club my first action was to cut the joining form down from three pages to one. With over 100 junior players that saved 200 sheets of paper straight off. I’m amazed at how much paperwork some people can generate. He, to be fair, was always of the opinion that I didn’t keep enough records. He was probably correct, but I did it for six years, never had a problem and, best of all, saved a few trees from being pulped.

There are now two bin bags of ripped paper in the hallway waiting to go out. We tried to put it all in one, but there was so much weight in it the bag started to rip.

After that we had tea and Battenberg cake, and relaxed with Pointless as a pigeon on the chimney pot filled the room with cooing.

I’m going to look for photos now, then will plan the evening meal after posting. I have had worse days.

I thought I’d adopt a cake theme for today.

An Interesting Day

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It’s been an interesting day. I suppose the title gave that away. I, of course, use the word “interesting” in the same way that a prostate exam is an interesting procedure – it grabs your attention and you suffer from flashbacks.

Just after midnight I trawled the internet looking for a supermarket with a delivery or collection slot. Number One Son had told me to try this time as they release the slots just after midnight.

There were no TESCO delivery slots in the next three weeks, so I tried Click & Collect. There was just one slot in the next three weeks – next Wednesday. What I didn’t realise when I started was that I was going to struggle quite so badly with the website (which seems very badly designed) and the speed of my ancient netbook. This meant it took me two hours to place an approximate order. I had to call it a day before getting everything right as you only have a limited time to secure the time slot.

This meant I didn’t get to bed until after 3.00, and had to get up at 8.00. I was in the queue at TESCO just before 9.00 and complaining by 9.02. It seems that there was no queue last Wednesday, but today the queue stretched around 100 yards and, despite being a slot dedicated to “the elderly” was dotted with people who were clearly in their 30s and 40s.

It also went past the door of a pharmacy and people were going in as we queued, sometimes without bothering about social distancing.

The queue spans both photos

Eventually they allowed the line to move and we all went in. They seemed to have been keeping us back so they could let us go in one lot. Not sure why this is seen as better than letting us go as space became available in the shop but I’m sure that TESCO know what they are doing. (That’s an example of sarcasm, for those of you who don’t know TESCO). The security guards asked a few people to step out of the line until “the elderly” were all in. It seems that the queue was for people of 65 and over. I was rather upset when they let me in, to be honest, do I really look over 65? I’m only 61!

It was quite easy shopping, despite a few people who can’t follow a simple arrow system or work out what six foot looks like (or two metres for you young ‘uns). It’s quite un-nerving to turn round and find someone lurking a foot away, particularly if that person is a member of staff, who definitely should know better. Yes, the staff picking internet orders from the shelves were the worst offenders.

I’m so incensed by that that I nearly used an exclamation mark. That would be two more than I normally use, and one more than I’m prepared to let by. Surprise, or indignation, is all very well, but I always feel moderation in punctuation is the way to go. Otherwise you start to look like you are writing sale placards for a shop.

It took just over an hour to buy too much food, and find that they didn’t have paracetamol or flour in stock. Again. They did have courgettes (though not many) and cauliflowers, which they didn’t have online when I tried in the early hours. On the down side, I had to have smooth peanut butter instead of crunchy and there was no decent marmalade. More for my list of First World Problems.

It was a bit annoying because I had to unload the trolley from the end of the belt. I prefer to be more organised than that – working from the middle and organising things as I go. It wasn’t even necessary – there was plenty of room for me to have moved along without getting too close to anyone. However, I suppose staff are happier if they feel in charge of their situation.

Some blossom is showing

Looking on the really bright side – it must be annoying to still be working when the erst of us are on “holiday”.

By that time my left foot was throbbing quite badly. My feet have swollen a bit recently, with so much sitting. This means that my foot overlaps the edge of the moulded sole. After half an hour the edge starts to resemble a knife blade, rather than a shoe.

By 10.30, as I limped back to the car, I just wanted to go home to sit down and drink tea.

It was 19 degrees Centigrade (66 F) by this time, which was pleasant, but a bit warm for a man who had dressed for a cooler day. I was becoming dehydrated, as I hadn’t had a drink before leaving home. My theory is that if I don’t have a drink, I won’t need to find a toilet while I’m out. The thought of tea and a nice sit-down became more appealing as I thought about it…

So, you ask, did you give up, you appalling snowflake?

No, I didn’t. I thought of Henry V, I thought of the Thin Red Line (the real one, not the film) and I wondered what would have happened if Captain Oates had been put off by a sore foot.

Daffodils are dying back

A pigeon goes about its business

If they could do it, I decided, so could I. So I battled with the air pump to inflate my tyres, topped up with diesel and went to the pharmacy. I even snatched a few photos, though they are of merely documentary value, rather than being uplifting or artistic. It didn’t seem a particularly onerous set of tasks when put it in context. The pharmacy queue was not as long as last week. It was, in fact, about five minutes, which is better than normal in non-virus times. It would have been nice if they had got things right, but you can’t have everything.

Then I went home for a cup of tea and a sit-down.

The rest of the day passed with TV, blogging, phone calls and a refreshing nap. Well, two refreshing naps, to be honest, one to catch up and one that I would have had anyway. Julia cooked tea (roast gammon, potatoes, parsnips, carrots, sprouts, squash and Yorkshire puddings with gravy) and as I finish this off she is running on the spot in the hallway as part of her fitness routine.

I think this is the first time I have written a post over 1,000 words. It’s certainly the first I’ve posted one that length without splitting it up. Sorry about the verbosity, I suspect that blogging expands to fill the available time. Is anyone else experiencing this?

Eternal Sunset of the Trivial Mind

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“There is hardly anything in the world that someone cannot make a little worse and sell a little cheaper, and the people who consider price alone are that person’s lawful prey.”

That’s a quote often attributed to John Ruskin but, as with so many quotes, there is no evidence he ever said it. However, there is definitely no doubt that it describes my buying habits.

About twenty years ago I bought a cheap, low quality shredder. That wasn’t what I meant to buy, but it’s what you end up with when you buy the cheapest.

About nineteen years ago Julia bought a more expensive, better quality, shredder, because she was fed up of my running commentary on the uselessness of mine. It worked well for years, before with, a screech and a smell of hot plastic, it stopped, and never started again.

That is why I’ve just been muttering at the older machine, whilst prodding at it with a screwdriver and unravelling yards of creased paper from the cutters. I fear the blades are not as sharp as they used to be and, despite the supposed five sheet capacity, they are struggling to cut three.

This is not what you want to see when you have a pile of rugby club records to shred. Even after my efforts of the morning I still have a pile of paper three inches thick to get through. A lot of it is pink and yellow sheets from three-part registration forms and a lot of the rest contains personal details so can’t be re-used as scrap paper.

This is what happens when a conscientious man with access to his work’s printer keeps records. I’ve already disposed of various ten-year-old policies and grant applications.

It’s not as if they are really my responsibility – I was landed with a box of them by a man who is clearly smarter, and more cunning, than I am. After several years of trying to pass them on I have admitted defeat and started to shred. It is not going well, as you can probably tell from the reference to the screwdriver. There is, I can confirm, a small margin between a shredder and a device for screwing up paper in tight folds.

When I buy another I am going to buy an expensive one and hope the price reflects the quality.

The header picture is shredded paper – I took it myself. I did originally take the lazy option but the image search offered a single picture, which was actually a cheese grater. I’m beginning to think that my early enthusiasm for this feature may have been misplaced.

The lower pictures are sunset, taken from the back of the house.

Sunset over Sherwood

quercuscommunity

Life after the Care Farm