Monthly Archives: August 2023

Wednesday Already!

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Tuesday ws a bit of a drag, as days go, though Julia did make fish pie in the evening, which perked things up. I was supposed to make it but I fell asleep in front of TV so she let me sleep. She is a jewel amongst women, and very patient.

Highlight of Tuesday was that an eBay member wrote to us and told us that we had misdescribed something as silver when it was cupro-nickel, and that the certificate we had put with it, describing it as silver, was wrong. We always try to be accurate and most of the time we are. You don’t get 10,000 satisfied customers without being accurate. It’s always annoying to be told you are wrong, but even worse when you are right.

We sent him a picture of the hallmarks on the side of the medallion, proving that it was silver and that it was with the correct certificate. I’m not quite sure where he got his idea from. There are gold-plated cupro-nickel examples around (though I’ve never understood why they make them – why add gold plate to base metal?) but I’m not sure why he decided ours was one of them.

It was annoying, and it was time-consuming. However, we have amended the listing to remove any doubt and we have thanked him for taking the trouble to write to us, because we are nice people and we are professional.

Time to go now. My alarm just buzzed and I have to get to the doctor for my blood tests. Never a dull moment in my life!

 

Vaguely Medical Monday

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Monday morning, and it’s a nice clean day. The weekend’s rain has washed the streets, the standing water has had time to disperse and there is very little traffic about, as the schools, and the associated parents and teachers, are on holiday. I’ve never understood how school holidays manage to empty the roads so completely, but there’s no point agonising about it – just enjoy it. I left home ten minutes late today but still got to work on time.

The lateness was due to my COVID test. I’d started sneezing over the weekend and had a runny nose, watery eyes, bad throat, fatigue and even a headache. I’m normally tired but it’s very unusual for me to have a headache. I just passed it off as a summer cold and left it at that yesterday. However, in the evening, after seeing there is a new variant, and these are the exact symptoms, I decided I’d better do a test. Then I forgot. This morning, I remembered. It was negative, so it was a summer cold. Magnified by thoughts of COVID, it was, for a short while, important. Now that the result was negative it’s just a summer cold aggravated by a touch of cyberchondria.

However, although I don’t have COVID, and can’t pass it on, which is good, I have killed the planet a little bit more. One swab, one plastic bottle, a plastic pouch of liquid, one plastic testing kit, a plastic ziploc bag for disposal and a bit of packaging, including a desiccant sachet. I don’t know the exact carbon footprint of all that, but it’s come all the way from China by the look of the packaging slip. It’s so easy to use plastic, particularly when, like this, you get sent a pack by the NHS. They sent it before one of my hospital appointments, so I took it as a hint they wanted me to test before I went. On the other hand, I might be wrong, as they didn’t actually send me any information with it.

Photo by ThisIsEngineering on Pexels.com

Another Report from Sunday

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It’s been cold today and Julia has been stopped by the police. Twice. I’m ambivalent about which is the most important thing to lead with. Early winter? My wife’s secret life as a delinquent? Tricky.

Julia went down to the laundrette and was, as I may have mentioned, stopped twice. I may have to stop writing “SWAG” on the laundry bag. The first pair stopped her and asked her name. The second pair stopped her about quarter of  mile away and again asked her name. When she was asked the second time she asked why she was being stopped and they said they were looking for a woman answering her description. The description? “Wearing a green top”. Some days you just have to stand back in wonder and admire the complexity of modern policing methods. I mean, all those years of police know-how and training and the best they can do is ask “May I ask your name?” On the second stop she nearly said “Yes.” just to see how things would go. But being a good and sensible citizen, she told them without sarcasm. It seems that they were looking for  woman who had been reported missing.

It wasn’t me. I’d registered she was taking longer than usual but she’d made bacon sandwiches before going out and I was writing, so the quiet time was a bonus. I know how to use a kettle so it’s unlikely I’d have considered her “missing” until the washing up bowl became full.

Meanwhile, and more seriously, I hope they find the missing woman

. Unfortunately, despite all the news on the internet, they never seem to report things like that.

 

Julia on the patio

Today I am using two relatively sophisticated photographs of Julia.

 

Rice + Marketing = Special Fried Rice

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We have a dish in the UK, found in all Chinese Takeaways, called Special Fried Rice (or variations on the name). Americans may call it something different (though on checking, I found that you don’t), and anyone of Chinese ancestry may not even recognise it as Chinese cuisine. However, like Chicken Tikka Masala, it is now part of British life.

I made a version of it last tonight. It features the three inch end piece of a wrinkly courgette, a half red pepper with a couple of black spots on it, last week’s mushrooms, some green beans I found while looking for the courgette and, finally, some prawns with freezer burn. Yes, It’s a bit like my soup recipe – loads of imperfect ingredients in a random order – but you add rice instead of blending it all. It has garlic, mango chutney and chilli in it. It was going to have chilli jam, lemon juice and soy sauce, but I seem to have used the chilli jam, the soy sauce bottle turned out to be empty and the lemon, which was actually just a half lemon, proved to be too far gone even for me. I’m hoping to fool Julia into thinking I actually used a recipe.

I just had a look at recipes and find that Americans do have it, and that they use SPAM in it. As Number Two Son’s partner is from the Philippines I know about SPAM (a food I haven’t eaten for 50 years), so I wasn’t too surprised. However, I was surprised to find that they add MSG. I didn’t even know it was possible to buy it, let alone that you would want to add it.

Naturally, my mind then drifted onto the possibilities for a literary twist to end the post. Something along the lines of my life being like Special Fried Rice – a random mix of imperfect ingredients that isn’t really Special, just leftovers with a sheen of marketing. But I decided that was too cynical, even for me.

Mouse on Wheatsheaf Loaf

The photos? I have one, unattractive, photo tagged “rice” but these were in the same month so I used these.

Saturday and a Rare Ten Minutes

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I find it easier to concentrate in the morning, even after a short or disturbed sleep. Ideas flow, words arrive in ready made paragraphs and my skills at arranging them are t their peak. Sadly, this is all in my head. It’s a rare morning when, in between struggling with trousers, managing breakfast and doing all the other daily tasks, I can actually find time to sit down and write.

Today, Saturday, is an exception because I don’t have to take Julia to work. It’s still a bit of a rush but it does give me a few minutes to sit and type. I have attended to comments this morning, reflected on a few of the things that came to light (I do think about what you sy, even if my replies are short).

It has rained three times this morning, each shower being a concentrated downpour that has tested our new guttering. It all seems OK at the moment, having been a problem on and off for the 30+ years we have been here. We should just have had it done when we moved in, instead of paying a succession of builders to bodge it. Pay once, do it right. It’s something I should do more often. It’s actually quite pleasant to sit here in the middle of a rainstorm and not hear the sound of escaping water.

It’s the story of my life really – bodging and skrimping when it would be so much easier just to get it done. Imperfections can be very draining, both mentally and in terms of extra damage done to a house (like the green patches that appear in winter where the walls are damp from leaking gutters). I’ve actually seen some buildings where such damp patches allow the growth of buddleias. There is one we see on the way to work each morning.  They are very pretty but they can’t be doing the walls any good.

Peacock on White buddleia

Life’s Rich Tapestry

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I’m finding it difficult to write tonight. I am annoyed with several aspects of my day, and particularly with myself for allowing this to affect the way I work. I won’t discuss it further as it takes control and fills the blog. I have already written over 1,000 words on the inefficiency and stupidity of the NHS tonight and none of them are interesting enough to show to anyone else. In addition, my mouse, which I operate from a low table by my side (it is more comfortable than trying to use it on the computer table), has started throwing itself on the floor. It’s something to do with the way the wire has twisted itself with some others and I will have to spend ten minutes unravelling it soon.

We had a strange happening today. A couple of weeks ago the Irish Post Office sent a parcel back after it reached Dublin because the customs label wasn’t completed properly. I filled it in and I dispute this, but Irish Customs, since Brexit, have become very random. The customer waited patiently for us to get it back and resend it, but it never arrived. Eventually we agreed he could have his money back if it hadn’t appeared by the end of the week.

The Irish Post Office site showed it as being returned due to insufficient information on the form.Today, we got an email from the customer telling us that the parcel had been delivered and despite him having to pay VAT on it (having already paid once via eBay) he was happy. How a parcel with incomplete documentation, that was on its way back to the UK, managed to turn round and get delivered in the Republic of Ireland (with the same incomplete paperwork it had on the first attempt) we will never know.

However, it did.

Random Tree

Suspicion of Conspiracy

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A few weeks ago, I went to have my Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm (AAA) scan. I also covered the fact that they won’t scan you unless you agree to have your records shared with other people. It’s all a bit threatening, particularly after they’ve told you about the dangers. I didn’t need to be told, I had a friend who dropped dead from a ruptured aorta while he was in his 50s. However, what I didn’t comment on was that it all felt a bit as if the data wasn’t to help me, but was to be part of a research programme. I already have experience of this with my Annual Pain Survey and the mental health one I used to fill in monthly through lockdown.

There was also a question in my Lung Cancer Screening when they wanted to know about when I left school and what my qualifications were at that point. Research tends to suggest that lower class people are more likely to smoke, and I suspect they are trying to collect some sort of data on that by equating the age when you left school with your intelligence and class. I left school when I was 16 and that has, as far as I am aware, no bearing on the state of my lungs. They didn’t incidentally, want to know if I have ever worked in environments with dust or chemicals in the air (which I have) they just wanted to know if I’d worked with asbestos and what age I left school. Seems a strangely incomplete set of questions.

Waterlilly

Tonight, when we got back from work we both had letters for Liver Health Checks. Suddenly we are very popular. The final paragraph reminds us to take our reading glasses as there may be some forms to sign. I am having a feeling of deja vu about this.

Each one of these consultations (apart from the telephone ones) takes 15-30 minutes, they say. It doesn’t. You have to get there, which means you need to find parking if driving. If using public transport you have to allow for disruptions like roadworks. Then they are often delayed. My last fifteen minute appointment took the best part of two hours.

A friend of mine, who is in his 80s, says hospital appointments are the only social life he has. He takes his wife with him, they use the tram (which is free with a bus pass for Nottingham residents, and then they have tea and cake while they are out. Sounds OK, but at the moment we have jobs and a sense of responsibility to those jobs, particularly as they both took us on in our late 50s, when jobs aren’t easy to find.

Photos are just old ones reused.

Yellow Flag Iris

Bean Soup

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Customer: Waiter, what do you call this soup?
Waiter: It’s bean soup, sir.
Customer: I don’t care what it’s been. What is it now?

It’s an old joke, and when I made bean soup for lunch I knew that I would be hearing it soon, as it’s one of Julia’s favourites. Here, in case you need one, is an explanation. It’s an explanation of the grammar relating to the joke. There is no explanation of why two white-haired adults ended up giggling into their soup at lunchtime. I suppose we have never really grown up.

Bean Soup

It starts with onions, garlic, red pepper and cajun paste. Stir them up and soften them. Add a can of chopped tomatoes and a can of water. Simmer, stir, blitz. Add beans and more red pepper bits and simmer again. Eat. It’s not a complicated recipe, but it’s handy as it is filling enough not to need a sandwich with it.

It’s OK, considering that it uses little more than a can of tomatoes and half a can of red kidney beans. It’s cheap and tastes surprisingly good. I’m sure it could be better, and you could use better ingredients, but it’s OK. Next time I may use the whole can of beans. The half can is fine, and filled us up, but now I have to do something inventive with the other half.

Bean Soup with pumpkin seeds – my attempt at being healthy and sophisticated

We had sausages and oven-roasted vegetables for tea. The leftover soup made  very acceptable gravy.

As you can see from the photographs, I tried to decorate it a bit, as it looked a bit dull and none of the beans showed on the photos. I’m not actually sure what some of the bits were that are showing in the photo. I had this problem before when trying artistic swirls of yoghurt or cream in soup. Someone told me to let it go cold before swirling, but that defeats the object of making soup.

The second attempt at decoration used the crushed bits from a packet of tortilla chips. They were no more successful. I may stop trying.

Bean Soup with tortilla chip bits – my doomed final attempt at being sophisticated

This was going to be the second Wednesday post and refers to Wednesday. Like so many of my good intentions, it ended up as the first post on Thursday. I fell asleep watching Outback Opal Hunters.

A Tricky Conversation

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I’m in a position where I have so much to write about that I’m getting jammed.

That’s a good start. I had a letter on Monday night when I got home. I recognised it as an NHS letter and my heart sank. More nanny-state, bureaucratic nonsense, I thought. I’ve only just done the AAA Screening and have nothing else due. What do they want now?

It seems they want me for Lung Cancer Screening.

In a letter dated last Wednesday and delivered on Monday, they gave me a date for a screening appointment – Tuesday. That’s right, less than 24 hours notice. I wonder which management guru has just been paid a fortune to come up with this strategy.

Theoretically it probably stops people changing appointments, but in practical terms it’s a nightmare. Fortunately it was a phone appointment so I could let it go ahead, but it wasn’t very convenient.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

For instance, I work in a shop with two other people, is that a good environment for discussing medical matters, some of which are better kept confidential? And I work in a shop with a lot of valuable, shiny items, do I want to give out my home address if we have members of the public in the shop? The answer in both cases is, of course, no.

I would rather have done it on Wednesday when I’m not at work. Or before 8.00 or after 4.00, but this is the NHS we’re talking about. Apart from the nurses and ambulance drivers most of them don’t work out of office hours.  If I was organising this sort of thing I would certainly be looking at the practicality of contacting people in the evenings. At flu time our local surgery is happy to work on Saturdays – because they know this is a good time to gather large numbers together.

It all went as expected. I answered questions, some of which had nothing to do with the health of my lungs, and, because I used to smoke heavily, I was told, in the manner of a TV host delivering news of a prize, that I had won a second screening appointment and would be allowed to answer more questions at an inconvenient location in order to decide if I was to be given the star prize of a trip in a CT Scanner.

What annoys me is that they have all the information they need on my smoking habits and my family cancer history because of my previous biopsies. They don’t need to ring up and bother me with all this malarky.

Ah well, another day, another NHS story . . .

I feel more like I’m being pursued rather than cured.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

 

 

Tuesday Retrospective (Written on Wednesday)

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Sorry, in a repeat of so many nights, it drew close to midnight, I fell asleep in my chair, woke two hours later and went to bed. I’m trying to make my habits more regular and starting to blog at 2am would have woken me up and made it difficult to sleep. The answer to that is to start writing earlier in the evening.

The day started with a pleasant surprise. A customer who had been refunded after his parcel got stuck in the surreal nightmare that is the Italian Customs service wrote to say that he had now received his parcel and would like to pay for it. This is honesty of a very high order compared to some of the things people have done to us and started the day off well.

This moved on to viewing a panda with hiccoughs. It features a glum-looking panda with hiccoughs, in case you don’t want to bother with the link. naturally this led to a discussion the correct way to spell hiccoughs (or “do you mean hiccups?” as the internet puts it). And from there we went to animals yawning. This is actually quite an interesting subject. However, we are there to work and after establishing that budgerigars yawn we were soon back to adding items to eBay. You may sometimes wonder what we all day, but after reading the article on yawning budgies, you have to wonder about life as a top-level university academic.

That’s about it, 250 words to catch up with yesterday’s missing blog post and the intellectual pinnacle was a discussion on animals and their various foibles. It makes you wonder why we bothered inventing the internet doesn’t it?

Header picture is a squirrel. It does not have hiccoughs and isn’t yawning, but it’s the best I could do.