Monthly Archives: December 2022

Another Day Crossed Off the List

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I didn’t even switch the computer on until 11 pm today. Looking at the clock, it seems that two hours have passed by in the blink of an eye. I have paid for an eBay purchase, deleted emails, read one that needed reading, read an auction catalogue (which I should have done last week) and answered the comments on the blog. It doesn’t seem like much, but going through an auction catalogue and checking some of the lots seems to take ages.

And so, I sit down to write.

I’ve been sitting most of the day, but that was in a different chair and in a different room. That has been the only variety in my day. There is a TV advert which says that laughing uses more calories than jogging. I don’t believe it, but I have watched several comedy programmes to ensure that I got some exercise.  Come to think about it, I once read an article that said visualising an exercise is nearly as beneficial as doing it. I think that related to strength and there is probably some isometric effect, but I can’t help thinking that if it were true we’d here a lot more about it.

Sunlit oak leaves at Clumber

I’m going to start an exercise regime where I imagine all my food is much heavier than it really is. That way I can eat and delude myself that I’m lifting weights at the same time. If I write off to a couple of online Colleges I can probably get some qualifications to make it more believable. (Yes, I use that link before, in case you looked and thought it seemed familiar).

You may think, and I forgive you if you do, that I haven’t done much, but ask your self this question – what have you one today that is as important to human happiness? You may have been industrious (which I have not), you may have done some housework (which Julia has mentioned to me once or twice today, I admit) but have you made a breakthrough in the way we think of sandwich eating?  Thanks to me, it is now possible for fat people to feel virtuous and healthy as they eat sandwiches and work their muscles instead of just their jaws.

I had a sandwich and a bowl of soup tonight, and, as a result of imagining that the sandwiches were heavy, finished my meal feeling like i’d had a bit of a workout. Apart from the exercise, think of the other benefits – no gym subscriptions and no need to shower. Talk about win-win situations.

I went back to November 2017 for the pictures.

Robin at Rufford Abbey

A Medal and a Brief History

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I bought a small parcel of medallions from eBay earlier in the week. I really only wanted one of them, and I would have liked them to be cheaper, but the drive to collect is strong and I ended up buying them. One of the items was a white metal cross awarded for attendance by the Preston Church Day Schools Association. It’s pleasant enough, though not really something I collect. There are two notable features about it, the first being the mark on the reverse of the lower arm.

At first glance it looks like accidental damage. White metal is an alloy of lead or tin used for cheap souvenir medallions and such things and is easily damaged. However, a second look reveals that the damage seems to have been done with a tool – I suspect a small hacksaw. It’s what we call a test cut in the trade, a cut inflicted on an item to check if it is silver or not. There was no need to have done this, as it clearly isn’t silver, but some people just do it automatically. Whether this is a flaw, or whether it adds to the story is something you will have to make your own mind up about.

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The other interesting feature is that it is name on the reverse – to Edward Valliant, who sounds like a character from Bunyan.

Due to the unusual name I can tell you that Edward Valiant was born and baptised in 1894 in the Parish of All Saints in Preston, the son of Richard and May Valiant of 46, Lady St. Richard was a Railway Porter. In 1911 there were three boys and two girls in the family and Edward was a cotton weaver. He appears, with a short break, to have worked in the cotton industry for a large part of his life (being listed as a cotton taper in 1939. At this time cotton was the major employer in Preston, and in much of Lancashire. His father was dead by 1911 and the head of the family was his mother, though his brother Thomas signed the Census form.

Edward served in the Loyal North Lancaster Regiment during 1916-18 and appears to have avoided injury in that time. He married in 1920 and 54 years later his wife, Lily, died. Edward followed her a year later. His address at the time was 219, Fletcher Road, the same as his 1939 address. It’s a two bedroomed terraced house, which is still standing. Lady Street, his previous address has been demolished and although All Saints Church survives, the area around it has been redeveloped.

Preston School Attendance Medal (Obverse)

He appears to have been slightly more fortunate than his brothers – Thomas had two children, was listed as “Incapacitated” in 1939 and died in 1949 at the age of 58. Stephen, also having two children, also lost two at an early age and died in 1953 at 60.

Sadly, though it’s possible to build a framework of the lives, it’s frustrating that this is all I can do from the records. I imagine he must have been generally happy as he stayed married for 54 years and never moved away from Preston, but I have nothing to back this up.

The Post That Never Was

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Today’s post is going to be a politically scathing and hilarious look at modern life in the UK. Well, it was this morning when I composed it in my head as I drove to work. I seem to be able to relax and think in the car, which is quite an alarming thought when you think I am in charge of a ton and a half of metal powered by the equivalent of over 120 horses, all of which needs threading through a mass of vehicles driven by people paying even less attention than I do. I may have to reconsider my meditation routine.

Anyway, I won’t be writing that blog post. It’s partly because I’m trying not to do politics. And mainly because by the time I’d got to my computer (I email my notes to my home computer from the shop) I’d forgotten what I was going to write. I find I do that more and more often. I think my brains might have hit the point of no return. In terms of going over Niagara Falls in a barrel I’m at that teetering point just at then top, thinking of mortality and the long fall that is coming . . .

Meanwhile, today’s rant features charitable donations. I already give by standing order. I sometimes give a bit extra. I don’t mind the giving, what I mind is the way people like Amazon and eBay keep asking at check out time. If they want to support charity they can do it out of their massive tax-avoiding profits, not by ambushing me. And Clogau jewellery is even worse. I’ve ordered from them three times recently (I hve a lucky wife) and three times they have added £3.50 for a donation to a charity of their choice – twice for trees and once for something else I can’t remember. I always cancel the donation, but they shouldn’t have added it in the first place. It is very annoying as it makes me feel evil to cancel the donations. Anyway, I already give money to plant trees every year. End of rant.

Christmas is Coming and Scrooge is Moaning

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A whole month has gone, and I didn’t make a single submission. I’m feeling lazy, but also thinking I made a good decision. I have a few things ready, but plenty of submission windows will be open in the next two months. I could send a submission to an editor who normally turns my submissions down, or I could send it to one where it stands a chance of being accepted. I know I really should keep trying, but it’s one of those cases where it feels good to take control. They say that people often cheer up once they make the decision to kill themselves, because they are back in control and, though this is not the same class of decision, it also feels good to take control of my own destiny.

It’s only a few months before that magazine will have another submission window, so I haven’t missed much. It’s just a pause before a greater effort.

The decluttering effort last night produced some result, though only a small one, but it did cheer me up. Tonight’s was not quite as useful, so I must ensure i get something done before it becomes just one more abortive start.

Snowman at Bakewell

Tonight I ordered Julia’s final present of the year, bought lottery tickets and ordered groceries online. Modern life has dragged me down so far that I actually see this as work.Sitting for an hour tapping keys on a keyboard is not work. I must repeat that a hundred times. However, as I know how to cut and paste it will not be the effort it used to be. A hundred modern lines are not the chore they were when I was eleven.

Tomorrow night ( which is actually tonight, as I slept through midnight in my chair) I will finalise the grocery shopping and plan the ordering of my pills for Christmas. The NHS is great for issuing free medication now I am over 60, but the Christmas Holidays is bound to to throw the system into chaos, as it often does. Unfortunately I need everything renewing around Christmas and I need to make sure I order them soon enough. I’ve been lucky the last few years, bit it can be a nightmare as you need to remember that if 24th and 25th fall at the weekend the Bank Holidays fall on the Monday and Tuesday of the following week, which then become non-working days for the purposes of ordering prescriptions.

This used to annoy me – fifty two weeks of the year I would work at the weekend, and through Bank Holidays as necessary, so that doctors and pharmacists and shop assistants could have eggs for breakfast 365 days of the year. Did they do the same for me?

Robin at Christmas

Did I ever tell you the story of what happened just before we changed the Sunday shop opening hours? I sat in a motorway service area and listened to a man lecturing his wife (and anyone within range of his loud and annoying voice) about how he wasn’t going to give up his Sundays, just because the government was going to allow supermarkets to open on Sundays. He seemed totally unaware of the irony of saying this on a Sunday, as people gave up their Sunday to provide him with fuel and food on his journey.

I have interspersed the unseasonal moaning with some jolly Christmas pictures.