Monthly Archives: May 2021

Where does the time go? (Part 2)

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Where indeed?

After making avocadoes for lunch (mashed with poached eggs for Julia, with prawns and pink sauce for me (it got too complicated last time I went into detail1) I settled down to a few quizzes, some conversation and, almost inevitably, a nap. Well, the quizzes are meant to sharpen me up and the conversation is meant to be something married people do, like discussing the husband’s shortcomings and planning to buy new cushions. Life can’t all be about being happy and doing what you want.

I then, having finally managed to find out how to switch the sound on, attended a haibun reading hosted by the Haibun Journal as part of Irish Poetry Week. I think this link should get you there. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0r0XxIUnPE&t=3s

That took a while, and was quite enjoyable, though I do get twitchy just sitting there listening. haibun that are quite short on the page seem to take forever when read. Then I spent twenty minutes looking for a notebook from last week – it had some haiku in it that I needed and I’ve ben looking for three days. Anyway, i found them and they are now typed up.

I had a look at Failed Haiku as I’d sent them a submission late last month. It went on the last day of submissions and and I’ve heard nothing back. This unusual, but it seems they have had some internet problems. I’d like to know whether it was late, not good enough or just disappeared, but at the back of my mind is the idea that they do an issue every month and the fewer emails they get from whining writers the better.

Fish finger sandwiches for tea, with potato wedges and tartare sauce for me, with wedges and ratatouille for Julia. Sometimes there is a point beyond which I cannot go and I am feeling all vegged up…

A little more TV, including The Coroner, which I quite like, though it isn’t, I admit, the most complex of shows.

Ah well, I’d better get back to poetry, I need an early night because it’s work tomorrow again.

Where does the time go? (Part 1)

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I have decided to do some research on where my time goes. Today I set a fifteen minute alarm and set to work with a plan in mind. I was going to us my first hour fully and the first 15 minutes were going to be writing a post. I can, if I get a move on, do a post in 15 minutes, though photos and tags can take another five or ten depending on how it goes.

The results so far. My first forty five minutes has gone and I have read and replied to the comments, drifted off on top Wiki to look at “Variations in Australian English”, eaten a bacon and mushroom sandwich (cooked by Julia, so no time lost there) and checked my emails. The good news is that these 120 words (approximately half my minimum blog target) have only taken four minutes.

The short answer to my question would appear to be that answering comments takes more time than I would have thought. However, there is no point in blogging if you don’t get comments  I now know what sort of accent Tootlepedal has (I currently have a picture of Miss Jean Brodie, well Maggie Smith, to be honest, stuck in my head, though I’m sure I am wrong), I know how many blog posts LA has written (most of them  more thought provoking than my ramblings) and am far better informed on the variations in Australian accents.

Left to myself I would merely have watched TV. Probably Murder She Wrote. I can therefore claim that my brain has improved as a result, compared to the undoubted atrophy that would have taken place if I had not been blogging.

I have now been going for about an hour (I forgot to reset the timer last time it went off and I have written a post, read and replied to comments and eaten a bacon sandwich. Not bad for an hour.

I will now throw in a few careless tags and recycle a picture and am good to go on my next keyboard adventure. That will be covered in Part 2.

The picture is Arkwright the Tortoise from May last year. I haven’t seen him recently, but it’s been a bit cold so far this year.

 

Fragmented Thoughts

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I’ve checked my emails, answered comments, written a bit and read a few posts – nothing significant. Yet the day seems to have gone. This is becoming an increasingly common and worrying problem, which I need to address.

Having written that, I’m off to look at a few more posts as I meant to do more, before but found myself wandering off to look at eBay. I think one of my problems might be lack of focus.

Yes, definitely lack of focus. I started writing lengthy comments on a couple of blogs then decided not to post them. Long comments and strong opinions are perhaps best left for my own blog. It doesn’t seem polite to cause ripples on other blogs.

I’ve been listening to one of the new breed of continuity announcers on TV recently. I didn’t really pay much attention to the older type with their Received Pronunciation, because that was something I grew up with. It didn’t bother me when TV companies went over the announcers with regional accents because that’s how most people speak. However, I am getting a bit fed up with some of the newer ones. They have gone beyond regional and some are now verging on sloppy.

It’s a tricky area, as things that I dislike about it (the dropping of “t” from words and use of “f” for “th”) are features of Estuary English, which is accepted as a region, and have been known in earlier dialects. OK, there are more important worries, but if someone says “fought” to you it is nice to be clear whether they are talking about thinking or fighting. When “th” becomes “f” it isn’t always clear.

I’m in danger of becoming the modern version of the people who defended RP at the BBC, which would be strange. I could probably write a post on whether I now speak better than I used to, or whether standards are slipping so badly that I’m starting to look sophisticated.

Either way, I half expect to look out of my window and see a pig fly by as I watch souls in torment skating on the frozen lakes of fire that were once Hell.

A Rant at Modern Life

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I’ve just been watching the news. It seems that “news” is a report of Dame Judy Dench eating 100 Maltesers as part of the Captain Tom 100 Challenge, a report from a woman who nearly died of Covid, but didn’t, and a report about a Covid memorial at St Paul’s Cathedral.

None of that, to me is news. It’s entertainment or current affairs.

Sport pulling out of social media is news, though I’m cynical about how it will work out. And someone drowning in the Thames whilst attempting to save a woman who fell in, is also news. It’s very selective news though, with a narrow focus on the man who drowned, and not on the man who also jumped in but didn’t drown.

There are plenty of options for rewarding this sort of bravery, including medals of the Royal Humane Society. In 1882 the Assistant Manager of London’s Lyceum Theatre dived into the Thames in an attempt to save a man from drowning. He was given the bronze medal of the society, though he’s better known for something else. He wrote Dracula.

Sorry if I seem a little cynical at the moment but I’ve just been dealing with some paperwork relating to my dad’s probate. I have just seen a life reduced to numbers and his wife of  62 years described as a tenant in common. As the icing on the cake there is a monitoring form at the end, asking if I, amongst other things, am black or white and whether I consider myself to be disabled. There are questions about gender too. I didn’t understand them.

It’s a waste of time effort and trees. Even if you do find that Death is racist, homophobic and doesn’t like cripples, what are you going to do about it?

And who thought it was appropriate to attach the questionnaire to the probate papers?