Monthly Archives: October 2023

A Few Highlights

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There have been a few things of note over the last few days. I had an email from the Royal Mail. They are still investigating my complaint and will get back to me soon. It’s already two weeks and my complaint was that they made it very difficult to talk to them and sort things out when they went wrong. They are rather proving my point for me.

I’ve just been reading an interesting bit on the internet, A well-known advocate of exercise and green lifestyle reveling how they decided to give up their car and use a bike and train for their 40 mile commute to work. Personally, I think the green alternative is to move house. Their lifestyle wouldn’t be quite as pleasant but it would be greener, and next time they criticise me for driving, I might be more inclined not to use the word hypocrite.

Northamptonshire Red Cross Flag

Yesterday I injected myself. I think I’ve missed a week, so I’m going to make more use of my diary. I use injector pens – gather a pad of fat (not difficult, I confess), press the plunger firmly to the flesh, try not to whimper. When you hear the second click it’s over and you can stop. This time, however, was different.   There was no first click, very little feeling of being stabbed by a blunt nail, no whimpering and then . . . a click. I’m fairly sure it was the second click, as the needle had retracted and the cover had engaged. It was very strange, though it became stranger when, about an hour later, I suddenly felt a stabbing pin where the injection had been. It’s almost like my brain and my abdominal fat are in different Time Zones.

Photos – more paper flags.

Mayoresses Fund

And again . . .

 

It’s Wigan, by the way.

 

 

If You Are Easily Depressed I’d Give This One a Miss

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The day came. The day went. The remains of it are currently trying to sneak past without me noticing. Somehow, nothing has happened and the day would be recorded, if I could be bothered, in the column headed “As days go, this one as a waste of air and light.”

That is, of course, a very self-centred view of the world. If I lived in Kiev or Gaza, it would have been a very eventful day. I’m afraid that, having known Russia as an aggressor all my life, and having seen endless trouble in the Middle East, my basic humanity has been worn to a mere stub. Probably there is a blogger in Russia, has known the West as an aggressor all his life. We would probably get on fine if we started to communicate. I honestly have very little interest in politics. There are probably bloggers in Gaza and Israel who would get on fine if their respective governments could stop killing people.

Should I feel guilty about this, or do other people also find their stocks of compassion  running out?

I’m seriously thinking of engraving my memoirs on sheets of titanium, sealing them in an airtight box, burying them in concrete and then challenging all the world leaders to start a nuclear war. In the short term it will be bad, but if you think of it as pressing the reset button it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. I’m not sure that we deserve a planet when you see how we act. In a couple of thousand years the Earth will be green again, people in caves will start killing each other with sticks and stones in disputes about land and a time traveller will dig up a big box of titanium pages . . .

Or is that the script of Planet of the Apes?

Medals from 100 years of warfare . . .

A Day with Few Results

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After a day which produced very little in the way of results, I prepared the soup pan, set it going and sat down to read blogs before writing. I had just come to the end of the reading when the alarm went off. Time to do combat now – just me, a pan of mushrooms and a hand blender. I will be back later to write the rest of the post.

Back now. The soup was more watery than usual, which was actually good, as it is usually too thick. I added a sprinkle of dried Italian herbs tonight, which added to the flavour, and all was good. We then finished off the mixed fruit crumble Julia had made at the weekend with the last of the cream (it had lasted for three meals, which is quite good).

Northamptonshire Red Cross fundraising flag. Quite dull, as it has the same thing on both sides.

During the day I gave Julia a lift to the dentist, went to visit a couple of friends in their shop and, I confess, did very little until it was time to make soup. Julia is much the same. We are blaming it on our slow recovery from Covid. Next week we are hoping to be more active. But next Wednesday I have a blood test, a Shingles vaccination and a day at work. It is going to be more active whether I like it or not.

I’m already starting to think about my display for the Numismatic Society next month. The photos are some that I have taken to illustrate the display.

The one below is a better example – no rust on the pin, for one thing, plus it has a date and a location on it. In a collecting area which is bereft of reference material, this is important stuff.

Reverse

Obverse

Tuesday’s Second Post

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I have 26 minutes to get this posted, which is quite a task, so I’d better get on with it.

Most of the time has been spent watching TV, but Julia isn’t feeling well – still post-Covid from what she says (I am suffering some of the same symptoms, but in a milder form). I thought I’d spend some time sitting in the same room as her, chatting and being attentive. I like to think she appreciated my efforts.

I have had another tanka accepted and Failed Haiku is out (Issue 94). I assume that link will eventually become useless. I’m on page 24 if anyone wants to pop over and look.

Nineteen minutes to go . ..

I’ve now hit a wall. Can’t think of a thing to say. I’ve already reported on last night’s meeting. And you’ve heard enough about the boring life of shopkeepers recently. It will be our wedding anniversary soon. It’s always a stressful time of year as I have to provide three thoughtful and imaginative presents in two months (Wedding Anniversary, Julia’s birthday and Christmas).

The stress starts with remembering all the dates. The Wedding Anniversary is quite close to the end of this month. Fortunately, Julia did an embroidery to commemorate that. It’s hanging ao a wall upstairs, so I can check thee exact date nearer the time.

Julia’s birthday is early in the month. So was her fathers, and so was the birthday of an old girlfriend from my early days, when I remembered dates better. So, I remember three dates in November, and have to make sure I don’t mix them up.

Christmas, of course, is easy. Well, it is if you ignore the evidence that suggests he was born in April or September, and probably between 6BC and 4BC.

I really should start writing these dates in my diary.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A Hard Night Talking About Medallions.

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Sorry, I went to the Numismatic Society last night, got home, ate, fell asleep in front of the TV and woke up at 1am with a raging desire to go to bed. So I did. Halfway up the stairs I realised I hadn’t blogged and thought of coming back down. the trouble is that “half an hour” tends to turn into two or three hours as I wake up. I may write a bit but I mainly waste time reading articles on the internet and two hours turns out to be twenty minutes of useful time and a lot of rubbish I didn’t need to read.

The talk at the Society was about medallions. It was by a collector who has been collecting for many years and has a high quality collection of medallions. The ones he showed us started with the Coronation of Edward VI (the first official coronation medallion, and went all the way through to Charles III. The early one was a bit crude, but it was 1547 and medallions were a comparatively new thing in this country. It had a picture of Edward on the front and an inscription on the back in Latin, Hebrew and English. The only picture I can find is a slightly different design.

It then went on through over an hour of superb medallions, which taught me a lot about medallions but very little about the history they commemorated. On the other hand, it would have taken too long to fit more in, so you can’t have everything. An hour and a quarter is really a bit too long for my elderly bones to sit in one position.

My more modest medallion display, on the other hand, went most un-noticed. I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth the effort. However, it does make me sort things out, so it probably is. Next month I am displaying paper fund-raising flags. The talk is in Edwardian Postcards.

The header picture is a tribute medal from Maybole in Ayrshire. The other is from Mottram and Hattersley, which is just outside Manchester. They come, as you can see, in a variety of designs.

Mottram and Hattersley Tribute Medal 1920

A Lesson Learned the Hard Way

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As usual, I have left things late. It’s the Numismatic Society tomorrow and, as part of my drive to injecting a little more life into it, I want to take a small display down. I did some research on an item last night, about two hours, plus a bit I’d done a few weeks ago, so probably three hours in all.

It’s a Sacriston Tribute Medal, which I have mentioned before.

I checked the man out, his family, his military history and the war memorials he was on (he was killed in action in 1916) and was quite pleased with myself for putting it all together. Then I thought I’d better do one final check, just to make sure that there was only one man of that name in the village. It had been niggling me all night that his rank on the medal was Private, but his military records showed Sapper and Lance Corporal. Sapper is the Royal Engineers equivalent of Private, and Lance Corporal is an appointment, not a rank, so L/Cpls are often still counted as privates by the army, so it could, I told myself, be right. But then again . . .

So I checked. There’s another man of the same name in the village in 1911. He was also there as a child in 1901, so it’s likely he was there for 1914-18 too. So, I may have spent hours researching the wrong man. And I still have other things to do to make a decent display.

Moral of the story – don’t just do your research – do it in the right order!

Sacriston Tribute Medal  – Obverse

Sacriston Tribute Medal  – Reverse

 

A New Medal

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I had beans on toast for breakfast. Eating them with one hand whilst working the keyboard with my other hand, I became aware that the transfer of beans from plate to mouth was not going well, and my shirt was becoming an unintended intermediary.

Although I thought I managed to wash it down before leaving for work it seems I was mistaken as small orange patched reappeared on my shirtfront during the course of the day.

Things got a bit more interesting when I got to work. Someone wants to know where his £80 items is. It appears to be at his house as it was delivered a week ago and is showing on the Royal Mail website as delivered, signed for and photograph. It’s either a very inept attempt at fraud, or a slightly dysfunctional family. If it had been me I would have been asking after two days – it was sent Guaranteed and that is a service with next day delivery.

Finally – the visit I had been waiting for. An elderly gent arrived with some medals for mounting. Although he last saw active service in the 1960s, the Government has just sent him a medal to recognise part of his service. It is the Nuclear Test Medal for those involved in the Nuclear Test programme of the 1950s and 60s.

There are 22,000 people eligible for the medal, though it’s likely that many will go unclaimed.  This one will be mounted with his other two medals and will be ready to wear on Remembrance Sunday. The medal office is making a determined effort to get all the medals out to survivors so they can wear them for this year’s parades.

Unfortunately, they haven’t been quite so quick at getting out the guidance on the order they are to be mounted in and I am either going to have to rely on Wikipedia or ring the Ministry of Defence helpline on Monday.

It’s the first medal I’ve seen with the head of King Charles on it (the Coronation medals aren’t out yet) and the first Nuclear test medal I’ve seen, so it’s been an historic sort of day.

Nuclear Test Medal 1952-67

The Internal Monologue of a Nobody

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It’s strange how, at the end of the day, I have difficult remembering the most exciting part of the day. Yesterday, despite writing about parcels, I actually did have a more interesting event. I was driving to work when a police car pulled out of the traffic queue on the othet side of the road and accelerated towards me with all lights flashing. For a split second, I experienced a feeling of alertness and increased heartbeat.

Then it was gone.

It was a surprise but there was plenty of space to change lanes and get out of the way. And then, bit by bit, a day of crushing dreariness erased my memory. It’s strange what you forget.

Most days are the same. There may be a touch of excitement, but the grinding routine drives it out. I could probably describe a day in 10,000 words, but 9,500 of them would not be very interesting.

“. . . then I packed another parcel. This one was for Australia. You can’t post to Australia by ‘Tracked & Signed’ postage so we use ‘Signed’. You have to remember to use a blue ‘Air Mail” sticker on envelopes for overseas. They have just changed the customs stickers, there is just one sort now. The ones that used to be barcoded are obsolete and the Post Office now prints a barcode and sticks it on. This doesn’t make much difference to us, apart from leaving enough space on the front of the envelope to fit the sticker on.”

That’s 96 words on current trends in posting letters overseas. Fascinating is not a word that I would use in describing the content. There’s plenty more where that comes from. I’ve posted two packages to Australia today, and just one to UK. That was it. I’d finished by the time the others arrived.

I could do at least the same again on postage, then go on to brewing tea, customers, poor quality stock, boredom, home grown tomatoes having thick skins and my plans to invent a biro which returns itself to your desk after people take it away. That’s already looking like it could go over 2,000 words and it’s only covering half an hour. I have many words to offer, but little of interest.

It could end up as a cult novella – The Internal Monologue of a Nobody.

Photo by Roman Koval on Pexels.com

 

Two Parcels Arrive!

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Suddenly, I can’t think of anything I want to write about. I managed to track down the missing parcel. Having deduced who the sender was, I had them send me the tracking number. At that point it all became clear. The package, after two attempts at delivery, never left the depot on the day of the rearranged delivery, and was still there. I drove down after work and it took me a mere hour stuck in rush hour traffic to travel the couple of miles to the depot and pick it up. Simple when you know how. The sender is acting as if they did nothing wrong in sending it to the wrong address, which is a little annoying, and the Royal mail has been in touch, after only six days, to tell me it will be investigating.

Meanwhile, another wrongly addressed parcel arrived this morning by Fedex. It arrived early (7.40am) and we were in. If it had been on time (8.10 according to the email that came at 6am) we would have missed it. My complaint to that sender, who has sent to the home address at lest 4 times in the last few years, resulted in a prompt apology and a refund of my £12 postage charges. I still don’t forgive them, but it is at least a proper apology. No evasion and no weasel words. No ” we will get back to you” – just apology and action.

Apart from that, things have been quiet. I’m sleeping a lot, which I put down to Covid. I recently had sore eyes, which I put down to using the computer too much. According to the internet, this is one of the symptoms of Covid. I hadn’t realised. Excessive watering of the eyes, discharge and itchy eyes can all be part of it, and that’s what I had. I just didn’t realise it was probably Covid related. It’s mainly gone now, but it has been quite irritating.

Looks like it’s time for masks again. Hospitals are requiring them, as they are expecting an upturn in Covid.  I wore one on Wednesday and will be starting again.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Haibun – The Duckpond

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I did say a while ago that I really ought to post some haibun. Unfortunately, I can’t remember which ones I’ve already posted so you may have to be bored with repeats at times. There’s also, I suppose, the chance that you will be bored even if I haven’t posted the poem before. The header picture is the actual pond I used to walk round and think about ducks. You don’t get that sort of service from Wordsworth do you? Did he bother to draw you a bunch of daffodils? It’s strange how bleak a duckpond can be in winter. There are few places to equal it, though Siberia and a tax man’s heart both come close.

This is the post I was originally going to do for my first of the day. It’s now the second because I treated you to a discourse on blood tests and rejection instead.

On the header picture you may be able to see something white standing up at the front of the island. It is the stump of a tree that had to be taken down, and it has, as you can see from one of the lower photographs, become a wood carving of  heron and duck.

The Duckpond

a mallard calls
and I recall last winter
dark water

The black water reflects passing clouds and the birds feed quietly. There is no courtship, no disputing of territory and no chiding of wandering offspring.

Low sun flashes off the green heads of the mallard drakes and a shopping trolley shimmers just below the surface, a reminder of more riotous times. Across the water, the lights of the café come on, drawing us in towards the scent of coffee.

north wind
rattling in the tree
the last brown leaf

 

This was one of my first published haibun, from four or five years ago. First published in Wales Haiku Journal.

Mandarin Duck – Arnot Hill Park

Heron and Duck – Arnold