Monthly Archives: April 2025

The Septic Tank of Politics

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It’s not often that I sit down at then keyboard and go blank, though it is becoming more frequent. I’m just tired of world events and the endless temptation to pass comments on the world political situation. Anyone who has ever had the mischance to suffer from a malfunctioning septic tank will know what floats to the top. Anyone who is looking at current political events in the UK and USA is probably noting, as I have done, that we have a similar situation to the septic tank, with Trump, Vance, Musk and Farage all bobbing about on the top.

From there, originally, I moved on to do another 480 words on religion and its malign grip on world politics. Whether it’s women being deprived of control over their own bodies in America, televised beheadings by ISIS, the destruction of Gaza or the rise of Hindu nationalism, none of it is good.

Religion

That’s all I’m going to say on religion this time round, apart from quoting a document I read on he subject.

“The Chinese government continued to pursue a strategy of forced assimilation and suppression of Tibetan Buddhism, as demonstrated by the laws designed to control the next reincarnation of His Holiness the Dalai Lama.”

It’s possibly the strangest thing I’ve ever read. I am curious to know what form legislation against reincarnation would take. It’s well up there with the report about Elon Musk trying to ban Santa because he once gave little Elon a lousy Christmas present. Not seen that one? It hasn’t been written yet, but you weren’t sure were you? Not with all the other lunacy going on.

Statue of Hedd Wyn – poet, shepherd and, briefly, soldier.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Julia versus The Squirrels

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Squirrel in MENCAP gardens, Wilford

You probably remember we were having trouble with squirrels on the bird feeders.  Well, we tried a few things. We tried shooing them off, we tried altering the way we hung the feeders and we tried lavender oil. They all seemed to help, but with up to four squirrels (identified by size and colour) including several visits from two at a time, we were having to try something new all the time.

We did, however, have a good result with the rats – blocking the holes under the fence, spreading lavender oil and keeping the area cleared of surplus food every night seems to have kept the rats away.  To be fair, we were keeping the area clear of surplus food anyway, as that’s a basic anti-rat precaution.

Squirrel at Rufford

So, what next for the squirrels? We moved on to mixing spice powders with the seeds. It worked a bit, but we were still being visited, birds were being scared off and large amounts of seed were being snaffled. We tried apples as a diversion/replacement, putting sections of apple out for them on the fence. Again, the results were moderate. They tended to eat the apples first, but still moved on to the seed, where, if not chased away, they would consume large amounts of seed.

It became obvious that we needed to get more serious. Did we go for a more secure feeder, move the feeder, or escalate the deterrent? Everything so far had tended to work for a while, but they are clever and persistent creatures and seem to work round most things.  We don’t want to get rid of them, just keep them down to a reasonable level.

The birds seem to like the feeders where they are, as do we, so we don’t want to move them. We have a secure feeder in the shed, but we don’t want to prevent them feeding, just limit them. Surely, I said to her (neatly moving the responsibility to her), a woman with two degrees and a post-graduate diploma isn’t going to let a small furry creature with a brain the size of a walnut outwit her. She looked at me, and seemed on the edge of saying something sarcastic . . .

 

After more reading, she came up with the idea of Tabasco sauce.  She applies it to the perches and feeder holes and the squirrels, after a quick feed, tend to leave. This will happen for a couple of days before the effect seems to wear off, but a quick sprinkle soon renews it. We don’t, anyway, want to drive them away completely. just limit them. This seems to do the trick and they are not the constant visitors they once were, though they do visit most days, normally towards the end of the day. It is, I think, a fair compromise. We are happy to spare them some food as long as they don’t monopolise the feeders.

 

An Old Poem is Found, Repeated and Recalculated

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Stone on the Floor – warning of poetry ahead

I’ve just spent much of the last two days sorting out files on my computer. Things had become so chaotic that when I wanted to start making submissions at the end of last month, I couldn’t actually find a lot of things I needed. Clearly something needed doing, and I have therefore done something.  It’s not quite fixed the problem but it has made it more manageable. Everything is now contained in a dozen files, and each file has a title that reflects the contents and isn’t confusingly close to the title of any other file. Of course, below that level, chaos still reigns, but it is slightly more orderly than it was, and I’m in with a fighting chance of getting on top of it.

The thing that really strikes home about the poem, apart from the obvious fact that it could be improved, is the fact that only seven years ago you could develop a thought and report a mental journey. You didn’t need all the drama and excitement a lot of editors seem to be seeking these days.

Thirdly, it strikes me that this was published 225 weeks ago. I no longer have the 999 weeks of which I wrote (given average longevity and a following wind). I now have 775 weeks, and that doesn’t sound anything like as good.

Snowy Detail

Seven Thousand Mornings

I knew today wasn’t a morning I was going to enjoy because the tip of my nose was cold and there was a sliver of grey showing round the edge of the curtains. Summer had ended.

This thought made me pause, and in that pause I let my mind run free. I had been watching a TV programme on life expectancies the night before and it suddenly struck me that if I took my current age from my life expectancy and multiplied it by 365 I would know roughly how long I was going to live.

It wasn’t until I finished that I realised I didn’t really want to know.

It’s about 7,000 days.

That’s approximate. I forgot the exact life expectancy, and I multiplied by 360 because it’s easier. I also like all the wrong sorts of food and avoid exercise, which is the wrong way ’round for longevity.

This makes the calculation even less exact.

If it is 7,000 days that’s only a thousand weeks.

Next week it will only be 999 weeks.

I might have to think about getting up earlier and working harder in the time I have left.

Or, I might just give up mental arithmetic.

in the rustling leaves
squirrels seek acorns
two paths diverge

First published Haibun Today 12.4 (December 2018)

Squirrel at Rufford

 

Keyboard Cleaning Blues

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Nice day

I’ve had a problem with my a’s recently. Well, my A’s too, I suppose, though they weren’t so noticeable. I thought the keyboard may need something firmer underneath (I have a pile of papers in a folder to try to deaden the sound of clattering keys when Julia is in bed). However, experiments in that direction left me with a very poor strike rate on typing a’s, sometimes lacking as many a three out of four when I raised my head from my stylistically abominable  typing to see what it looked like. My mother, who tried to teach me be a touch typist, would be mortified to see me crouched over the keyboard stabbing away with two fingers and watching every strike.

I have a spare keyboard in Nottingham, but it will be a few days until our next visit, so I applied a bit of thought. What, I thought, looking at the crumb-festooned memorial to my many wasted years, if it’s just that a crumb has become lodged under the key. So I tipped it upside down and gave it a shake. It didn’t do much, so I tried a piece of narrow wood, which fished out a positive cornucopia of debris. It seems to be primarily beard hair, but short beard hair, much of which is still ginger. It is very different from the long white beard hair I currently wear. It must be years old.

Sourdough

It still didn’t completely cure the problem, so, with vague memories of having done this before, I gently lifted the A key off the board.  Somewhere I have a kit of useful small tools, but I can’t remember where it is. Plan B was the trusty pocket knife. Ditto. So, a kitchen knife? Julia goes mad if I use kitchen knives for things like this so I decided against it. I also decided, if I’m honest, against getting up and walking to the kitchen.

Scissors it is then, I thought. And it nearly worked without incident.  The A popped off and I was able to clean under it. No problem. I have a functioning A key and a small pile of ginger hair and with assorted crumbs. Emboldened by success, I attempted a few more. The space bar seemed to be harbouring detritus so I had a quick poke around, eased it gently up and . . . oh dear. Two other keys popped off. Now, without looking, can you tell me where the M and the N go?

Me neither.

Apple blossom

Fortunately I can Google “picture of keyboard” without using the N or the M, and everything is now back together. The space bar, to be honest, was a bit tricky but I managed to work the wire thingy out and it’s all working properly now.

So there you are – a working keyboard, an anecdote and a vague feeling that in terms of keyboard hygiene, I need to do better. I now have, at the back of my mind,  a desire to dismantle the whole thing and brush it clean. But that would just be inviting trouble, wouldn’t it?

I will now post photos of spring scenes, and attempt to replace your mental picture of my grubby keyboard with a selection of nice photos.

Cute kid

Cutting It Fine

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It is done. After another mad struggle I finally submitted my last of my ten submissions for the month. A while ago I was happy with my position, then it all slipped away. I lost my focus and my ability to write and it took the prospect of failure to kick-start my brains again.

This morning, having submitted only three lots, I ws seriously thinking about giving up. Then something took over. I got everything done, apart from two submissions to a magazine that hasn’t accepted anything from me since a change of editor  Then I had tea and watched the quizzes on TV. That left me with a couple of hours. So I watched The Yorkshire Auction House for a while.

Then I sang a song to myself and started again.

Every bursted bubble has a glory!
Each abysmal failure makes a point!
Every glowing path that goes astray,
Shows you how to find a better way.
So every time you stumble never grumble.
Next time you’ll bumble even less!
For up from the ashes, up from the ashes, grow the roses of success!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses of success!

Yes, it’s the song from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It seemed to work, because I managed to write 10 passable haiku, edit a couple of haibun and get it all sent off with four minutes to spare.

Next month I have only one submission in the plan, but will look for some more places to send stuff to. I my also have to start counting those other submissions I make. I know I’m not really competing for publication, and it would have to be pretty bad to get rejected, but it all takes time.

Photos from Julia.