Monthly Archives: September 2020

Thursday Evening

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My phone alarm has just sounded the 8.00 alarm. That reminds me it’s time to take some pills. It also informs me that I have accomplished very little tonight. I’ve drunk tea, answered emails, watched two quizzes, done a few comments, washed up and tea is now ready to comer out of the oven.

It’s not a lot for three and a half hours. I’m never going to…

Just remembered, I have read some of Obsessed with Pipework – I’ve just taken out a subscription. But that only took 20 minutes as I still have quite a bit to read. However, I’m building a better picture of where my time goes.

I also spent time reading a letter from my MP. I’m not totally sure she’s grasped my point. I don’t really want to ban grouse shooting, but I do want to gamekeepers killing birds of prey. And |I certainly don’t want to see Scotland held up as an example, as the SCots, despite supposedly superior laws, actually kill more birds of prey than we do. However, at least my concerns have been logged.

There is a jump of two hours now, I’ve been watching TV and reading and trying to keep Julia sane after a trying day at work. Unfortunately her trying days translate into trying evenings for me. I’d like to be able to solve the problems but I can’t. I can’t even guess what the next problem will be.

The latest two problems were school staff switching locks between gates for some unknown reason and there being no staff to supervise as the kids left school, messing about and riding bikes across the garden. But it’s OK, because JUlia’s boss, who is never there when there is anything hard to do, has told her she is over-reacting. The trouble is that for her clients this isn’t just a minor inconvenience, it’s an invasion. Some of them need persuading to get outdoors at the best of times, and several of them really didn’t want to leave isolation. This isn’t helping.

As for the keys – sounds minor doesn’t it? Unfortunately it meant that the people who empty and clean the chemical toilets couldn’t get access when  they called (they have a key and turn up after hours when it’s all quiet). That suddenly becomes a bit more of a problem.

To round off a depressing day (I won’t cover the events of the day at work) Diana Rigg has died. I saw her in The Misanthrope at the Old Vic in 1975. That was in the days when I still nursed reams of being cultured and urbane. I’ve never seen anyone exhibit such personality on stage.

Ah well…

Wednesday Night

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This morning I wrote several pages of notes, two haibun and five haiku as I sat and waited in the car. That is two haibun and five haiku more than I have managed in the last two days. I’ve been trying to compose on the computer and it just doesn’t work. I can write articles and I can write blog posts, but I just can’t do poetry on the screen.

Give me a sheet of paper and a loaded fountain pen and sometimes, like today, it’s hard to stop me writing. Whether it’s any good or not is a different matter. A quick survey of recent correspondence with editors seems to indicate that opinion is divided.

Ten submissions in the last two months.

One lost in cyberspace.

Three accepted.

Two rejected (one with amazing alacrity).

Four pending.

At that point I decided I should write a poetry post every day, as well as my normal rambling diatribe against modern life. I’m writing enough, so the words wouldn’t be a problem, and may be it’s my chance to grasp a little of the elusive fame that sometimes gathers round a poet.

Tonight, as I sat down to write, i realised that I can’t bring myself to do it.  It’s alright for people who have won prizes or written books, but for someone like me with a patchy publication history it still seems self-indulgent. I don’t want to seem critical of other bloggers, but there’s quite a lot of poetry out there that could do with tightening up. Mine certainly does, so until I reach a higher level I’m going to refrain from self-publishing.

Tonight I finalised a couple of haibun. They have been hanging round for several months and I decided it was time to finish them or put them in the file of fragments. With that in mind, I found things falling into place.

Sometimes it does that, though a poem is never really finished. I can always look back at one and think of a change to make (change, after all is easy, as I often say, it’s improvement that is difficult).

For the moment then, I will confine myself to writing the odd post about poetry, but won’t put any actual poetry in them.

I need to get on now, as I have to write a few more haiku. I’m embarking on the Buson One Hundred again – ten haiku a day for 100 days. Last time I concentrated on fluency and deactivating my internal editor. This time I’m going to try to write something useful.

A hundred days from now is, I think 17th December. It’s not the most inspiring time of year, but I may as well do it while the enthusiasm takes me or I may end up putting it off for another year.

My Orange Parker Pen

As a warning, and to see if you really read to the end, if you see the picture of stones as the featured image it means it’s a poetry post. This gives you a sporting chance to avoid it.

The stones were in the car park at Aldeburgh last time we visited. Despite being just yards from the beach I suspect that the pink granite chippings indicate it has been shipped in from miles away (probably Aberdeen or thereabouts) to surface a car park that is just a yard away from, a massive shingle beach. The round stone, though, probably is from the beach.

 

 

Wednesday Morning

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I went to hospital this morning and parked up under the treatment centre. I spent the best part of an hour writing and watching life pass me buy then stuck a mask on and went in. The reason for the hour’s wait was because I wanted to get there while there were still spaces left.

By the time I walked into the entrance there were still spaces left – another great plan that didn’t quite work out. However, it wasn’t wasted time as I did quite a lot of writing. And compared to taking a taxi, I saved £12.

The sheet of questions you used to be asked about Covid has been reduced to a simple “Any Covid symptoms?” from a bored receptionist. This is quicker, but less reassuring.

By the time I left I had a lump of “putty” and two sheets of hand exercises. I am so looking forward to doing something like 20 exercises, each with ten reps and each at least twice a day. That’s going to be… (sound of wheels turning and gears clunking… a lot…

I’ve just ordered a couple of plastic gadgets to pop my pills out of the packets for me and, more importantly, to catch them for me. I tend to drop a lot due to declining dexterity.

I’ve also looked up my grip strength to compare it to the average. Seems that even with arthritis my grip strength in my dominant hand is strong. The non-dominant hand score is about two thirds of the other, but still good. I’m surprised at the size of the difference, though I couldn’t use one of my fingers on that hand. I’m feeling a bit better now, as I have been feeling pretty decrepit lately.

We went out for a coffee after I returned home, then went to Hobbycraft for Julia to buy things. Nothing much of any importance occurred but judging from my fellow drivers it was National Leave Your Brain at Home and Drive Like an Idiot Day, particularly for those driving 4x4s. Not one of them, it seems, can plan their route 50 yards in advance, with the result that I have to be barged to one side to allow them access to the lane they need.

While we were out we found a charity bin that takes books. It was nearly empty so all the books from the boot of the car went in there. I’m giving some specialist books to one of the customers on Saturday, so will have got rid of several hundred this week. It’s sad, but necessary.

 

 

 

Tuesday Evening

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I picked Julia up from work, watched Pointless, made tea (fried rice with plenty of veg and some odds and ends of meat), watched TV, bickered and finally started to write this.

My emails tell me I missed a necklace on eBay that I had been watching for Julia’s birthday.  It’s a nervy time of year, as I have to buy her a present for our wedding anniversary, her birthday and Christmas, all within the space of a couple of months. Even if I was inspired it would be tricky, but as I’m not, and as she’s no help at all, I struggle.

It was nice, though she really has enough necklaces, and I set up a bid using a sniper to place the bid three seconds before the end. I din’t bid enough.

More thought needed.

There’s always more thought needed. Last Christmas was fine, as she new what she wanted and we went out and bought it just before Christmas, but it’s more normal for me to be left a week before Christmas with every idea turned down and nowhere left to go. She is, unfortunately one of those people who can tell you what she doesn’t want, but not what she does want.

I asked her what she wanted on the menu for next week, as I need to start getting the shopping list knocked into shape for tomorrow night and it’s the same again – doesn’t want anything I suggest but can’t come up with any ideas of what she does want.

It’s very easy to slip into bad habits and lack of variety when you are ordering online (just order the same as last week, says the little voice in my head) but it’s also hard to keep coming up with menus. To be honest, with being back at work almost full time I have become a lot less interested in cooking. I might have to order some of those spice packs just to kick-start my interest again.

Meanwhile, in the world of Covid, UK infection rates are rising and a local school has had to close because several teachers have tested positive.  I spoke to the husband of a teacher today, they have been back less than a week and they have sent 15 of their 250 pupils for tests after they started showing symptoms.

It could be a tricky winter.

 

Study Number 1 - The Idiot

Tuesday Morning

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Today, as ever, started with the death of a good intention. I meant to get home and start decluttering before writing, but in the end I went to sit in the back room of a shop and drink tea.

It was relaxing, but not productive.

I then went shopping, even though we are supposed to be doing it by internet. We have somehow run out of bread again so I thought I’d get some in and buy a few extra bits we could do with.

I’ve had a problem with my stomach recently, lasting two weeks. It wasn’t quite Irritable Bowel because I didn’t have my normal stomach cramps, and it doesn’t seem to be cancer as I checked my output and it all seemed normal. In fact, it was quite impressive (thanks to my high fibre diet). Julia has told me not everyone wants to know this, so I will leave it. there. I will, however, assure you that I checked seriously and was not just going through the motions.

Those of you from overseas, who are wondering about that slightly out of place last sentence may want to check this dictionary entry as I fear it is only a pun in English, and even then only for people with school boy humour (or me and Derrick, if you really want to narrow it down). Possibly Charlie and Tootlepedal, but they, having been teachers, are probably on a higher plane than that.

It seems not to be the methotrexate either, as, after the first few weeks this does not seem to cause any reaction at all.

I’m trying to cut out the cheese sandwiches at lunchtime, as cheese and milk sometimes trigger the IBS. There is a pan of carrot and parsnip soup on the hob at the moment because, although I am back to normal I need to lose weight and be kind to my stomach. I will have it with a ham sandwich. In my book, there is little I could do to improve on that.  I’m going to follow up with some yoghurt which I also bought today – time to work on my digestion.

So far, so good, though this is borrowed time and we must soon go back to proper working hours. The days I work are now getting longer and Julia is back on public transport most days. I’m not happy about that, and she isn’t happy about the number of people not wearing masks, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t challenge people because this is viewed as discrimination. You can’t ask for proof. You just have to sit there and out up with their germs.

It’s a shame that the non-mask-wearing idiots who pretend to be disabled can’t all be struck down by Covid. Instead, ironically, they will be the ones likely to survive and infect others.

Study Number 1 - The Idiot

Monday Again

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I just tried to tax my car for the coming year. I entered the 16 digit code the Government has thoughtfully provided, ticked a variety of boxes and prepared to pay…

And then the page refused to load.

Twice.

I just tried it a third time and it worked. I am now feeling virtuous after doing something in plenty of time. Normally I put the letter to one side and worry about it when I can’t find it just after the deadline.

That’s what I seem to have done with the letter from the hospital. I have an appointment at the Treatment Centre either this Wednesday or next Wednesday, but I can’t remember which and I am going to have panic-fuelled search for the letter tomorrow.

My new resolutions are erratic at best.

As a sidelight on lockdown, I had a strange social situation today. A customer came into the shop wearing a mask. He asked if we had some things, which we didn’t, and I pushed my chair back to talk to him from the back office, as he was asking about medals and militaria, which is my area.

“Hello Simon,” he said.”I didn’t realise you worked here.”

I hadn’t a clue who he was, though he obviously knew me.  From the warmth of the greeting I guessed we weren’t just passing acquaintances either. It’s very difficult when you have to identify a bald middle-aged man in a mask. There isn’t a lot to go on. I’d last seen him two years ago in another shop, and before that it had been fifteen years since I saw him and his infant son eating Sunday lunch in the café at Sainsburys. Neither of us, it has to be said, is very good at keeping in touch.

Fortunately his twinkling eyes gave the game away, but for a moment it was a touch tricky. If he had not had distinctive eyes I would have had to ask who he was.

This happens more and more – older versions of people I used to know keep cropping up.

 

Sunday Once More

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We’ve been out today for lunch in Derbyshire – meeting Number One son for lunch in Castleton, which is roughly half way between us. It was a very pleasant drive and an excellent lunch. Though we were spaced out in the dining room Derbyshire was a bit crowded at times and it’s easy to see how the virus spreads even when we are supposed to be being careful.

Everyone seems more chatty these days, as if the lockdown has made us more open to talking to strangers. It’s probably the only good thing to come from it. Well, maybe not quite – I have also broken my habit of ordering takeaway meals and buying supermarket sandwiches.

I could tell you more but I’m always quite reticent about discussing, or photographing other people for the blog. Part of me doesn’t want to take responsibility for talking about other people, and another part of me thinks that their stories are for them to tell. I would make a very poor autobiographer because of this. However, as I have had a dull, boring and even dreary life, I would make a poor autobiographer for many other reasons too.

View of Castleton, Derbyshire

Tonight I had another rejection. It was for haiku, and I tend to expect this as they are not my strongest suit. I fact, I have only ever had one accepted and this was probably out of charity.

It was a very nice rejection and the editor thanked me for submitting them, told me they had enjoyed all my haiku but had not, in this case selected any for the magazine. There was a suspicion of a double-edged compliment when they told me that they hoped to read some of them in other publications soon. That could be genuine good wishes for success, or just a coded way of telling me to go away and bother someone else.

Being cynical, I checked back a couple of years (I have, as you know, a large store of old emails) and found that this was exactly the same rejection message I had received in 2018.

My suspicion about a coded message is taking a more solid form.

Looking on the bright side, I have had three sets of haiku returned, which allows me to mix and match and send them out to a couple of other editors. As with the previous recipients I am sure they will all be very grateful.

View from Castleton, Derbyshire

Saturday Night

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I tried the title with just the S, stuck my head down and typed. Even the S was missing when I looked. I can only suggest that I’m going to fast for it to keep up.

So, what’s happened this week that I haven’t already covered?

I changed my email a few weeks ago, though I haven’t used it much. I thought I’d start the changeover by having the new system take over the old, and to that end I set it up to receive all the emails sent to the old address. When I switched on next day I was unprepared for the full horror of the situation. I have over 9,000 emails stored on the old system, and I had thought that’s where they would stay. No so. The new system isn’t just looking at the new ones, it’s downloaded the 9,000 old ones too. I’m now getting rid of them but can only do 50 at a time. I’m down to 4,000. After yesterday’s marathon effort I’m going to do a few hundred a day from now on.

So that’s Modern Technology 1 Simon 0.

Then there was the camera battery debacle. My large Olympus, being based on an elderly design, takes AA size batteries. I have several sets of rechargeable batteries because it can run through a lot of power if you are out all day.

Yesterday the batteries in the camera ran out so I put them in the charger and slipped in a new set. They were flat. It’s possible that I had put a dead set in and mixed them with the live ones so I tutted, as you do, and put in another set.

They were flat too. As was the fourth set. This isn’t funny as it left me with no camera. They had all run down during lockdown but I’ve charged them up since then. Several of the sets should have been charged so I’m either going mad or the batteries are dying. That leaves me with a problem – buy new batteries for a camera that may not last a lot longer or just let the batteries die and retire the camera? I have  anew camera for my own use, but am putting off using it because I have to learn a whole new set of controls, but I don’t want to use that for work. I’m going to charge them again and keep a check on them to see if it was my error, or if the batteries really are dying.

Modern Technology 2 Simon 0.

WordPress you already know about.

Modern Technology 3 Simon 0.

During the week I tried to sign on for Flickr as I really need to start organising my photos. It won’t allow me to sign up because my system is so out of date. I really am beginning to feel like a second class citizen.

Modern Technology 4 Simon 0.

However, all is not lost. I’m going to write a sarcastic post about modern technology, and probably ridicule it in a limerick. That’ll show modern technology who’s boss.

Now for fifteen minutes loading a photo…

 

 

Saturday Afternoon

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I watched the title very carefully as I typed it this time, and typed slowly and smoothly so as not to frighten it. So far so good, there was no jumping and no loss of letters. It’s a shame that WP can’t provide me with a decent system in exchange for my annual fees, but at least I know it’s possible to cope with the problem by creeping up on it. I hope that more software providers don’t start using ambush activated systems as it is a little wearing.

Now all I need to do is work out a system for making the media run properly again. Perhaps something steam powered might improve things.

There was only one overnight order, which was quickly wrapped, and I went on to listing banknotes.

Julia rang. It’s often bad news when she rings, and I always worry when I see her caller ID. It wasn’t too bad this time, she had found the two Parker fountain pens I lost last week – they were in the pocket of one of my dirty shirts. That was good news. I’m always misplacing them and I miss them when I don’t have them.

Half an hour after that the post arrived with my new Parker fountain pen in it. It’s bright orange, inexpensive and has an attachment to let me fill it from bottles of ink instead of using cartridges.

Twenty minutes later, after getting it working, I addressed an envelope with it for an order that had arrived by post. That was the last I saw of the top. I searched the desk, the areas where it could have fallen off and my pockets. Nothing. Not a glimpse of the bright orange top. I searched creases in my clothes, the floor (carefully) and the stationery drawers. Nothing.

I endured laughter, ribaldry and ridicule from the owner and the few customers who came in, but I came no closer to finding the top.

This was quite annoying.

I worked, thought, backtracked and considered a prayer to St Anthony. I’m agnostic, to say the least, but there’s nothing like adversity for producing feelings of religion.

Finally, I employed the Sherlock Holmes method – “When you have eliminated all which is impossible then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Having eliminated the impossible (alien abduction, telekinesis and a passing pen top thief) I was left with the improbable thought that when I had thrown the litter away after packing the order I must have been holding the pen top and dropped it in the bin.

It’s improbable, it’s incredible, and it’s embarrassing, because there it was, shining bright orange in the bottom of the bin.

It’s been my first senior moment for a while.

My Orange Parker Pen

Did I mention they were Parker pens? I just though it worth mentioning in case anyone from the Parker Pen Company was looking for a reviewer, a tester or just someone to generally send free stuff to. You never know…

Saturday Morning

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If anyone reading this is using the Classic Editor plug-in do you have the same problem as me? I start typing the title and when I look up only half of it is there. I even waited until it had settled down this morning, ensured that the word Saturday was in place, put my head down and carried on typing. When I finished all I had left was  “rning”. The rest had, yet again, disappeared.

It’s one of several matters of minor concern that slip through the cracks of the blog each week, being irritating but not life-threatening.

Another is lockdown. It’s not really lockdown these days as we are moving out of it, and it has receded into the background. There are still lockdown stories on TV, some being quite serious, but it’s just background noise.

Julia used the bus for the first time since March last night. I’m now working until 4.00 on Fridays so it isn’t practical for me to give her a lift now.. She said there were four people on the lower deck of the bus (out of about a dozen passengers) who weren’t wearing masks. As none of them had obvious wounds on their heads, they all had two ears and nobody was gasping for breath, it’s hard to see why they weren’t wearing masks. They were probably special advisors to the Tory party, and we all know that they don’t need to stick to the rules. Not that it’s just Tories, the Labour Party has its fair share of idiots too.

That’s taken me over the 250 words I set as my minimum word count, and it’s covered a few things that weren’t on my mind when I switched on this morning.

I was going to write about things falling through the cracks and cover the question of the inefficient pharmacy (again) and my stiff fingers, which are pain free but made hard work of some medal mounting I had to do yesterday.

It’s amazing where a twenty minute blogging journey will take you.

Mine is going to end up by taking me to work, but I thought I’d write a post before leaving (a) because I had time and (b) because I may well spend most of the evening asleep. I’ve been staying up too late and it’s beginning to catch up with me.

I’m studying hard to become a polymath (there must be as joke about a parrot with a superior grasp of arithmetic in there somewhere) and all that knowledge won’t just deliver itself. However, I’m not sure sitting up late and then sleeping most of the next evening is the way to go.

I’m using an old stock photo because when I tried to download an appropriate photo the system froze. It seems to do this now I’m using the plug-in. It took me nine minutes to regain use of the frozen computer and I’m still using an old photo. At this time of day I don’t have nine minutes to waste. In fact I don’t have nine minutes to sit in front of a grinding and useless computer at any time. This only started happening when I had to transfer to the plug-in.

This was meant to be a quick blog post, but it’s actually taken eighteen minutes to write and fifteen to insert one old photo. I hope the rest of the day improves.