Sandsend – river and bridge
Despite resorting to the questionable tactic of dropping a numismatic article into the day before yesterday’s post, I still managed to miss posting yesterday. There are 24 hours in a day, how do I mange to miss out on finding 20 minutes to write a blog post?
I also managed to avoid doing anything else of much use. I took Julia to the nurse for her shingles booster. She then mowed the lawn and spent the rest of the day telling me how much her arm ached. Well, as i said, shingles vaccine is well known for being likely to ache, so would it not have been better to have rested than to cut the lawn? She, of course, disagreed, despite the evidence.
Beach at Sandsend
I caught up on some correspondence with people I owed emails to. I would like to be an old-fashioned letter writer but emails are so much simpler. Even so, it’s possible to let months pass by without replying.
Here’s a question. I have a lot of redundant email addresses in my system. Some are people I can’t even remember, some are dead. I occasionally delete a few (mainly parents of kids who played for teams I managed) but I find that I can’t bring myself to delete the addresses of friends who have died. Is this normal? Or am I exhibiting signs of an unhealthy attachment to the past?
Microlight over Sandsend
Is there room for a modern ghost story where someone uses such an address and gets a reply? Or has it already been done? I won’t do it, as I don’t read ghost stories.
We are about to have an early lunch – Julia has to go to the tea room and I have to go to the doctor. Retirement is not quite as relaxing as I had planned. I am going to have to start using a diary again.
Whitby Church. Ideal place for a ghost story
Whitby Abbey – is that creaking the opening of a coffin lid?
Sandsend pictures are a lovely clear day in March 2017.
I can’t remember exactly what happens in the story, but getting a response to an email sent to somebody who has died sounds like a possible episode from Will Self’s short story ‘The North London Book of The Dead’. Spoiler alert: when people ‘die’ they actually just move to another part of London. Later, he expanded the story into a novel ‘How The Dead Live’.
I’m impressed that you can write a blog post in 20 minutes. I’m on a 21 day streak, which must be one of the longest, possibly the longest, I’ve managed in 18 years of waffling and the strain is already beginning to tell. It’s probable that this Monday evening’s pub quiz will put an end to it.
I often put an end to my streaks by going to have a cup of tea or a chat with Julia and forgetting to come back to it. I did it the the second post of yesterday, so never caught up as I intended.
A blog post in 20 minutes is quite easy – 250 words of borderline inane drivel (and I’m not saying which side of the border it falls on) and “it’ll do”.
Longer, more entertaining posts such as yours take a lot more time. It’s all about standards, and I have none. 😉
I’m kind of brutal.about deleting things and getting rid of things, so my gut instinct is slightly over sentimental. but, that being said, if having these names brings you comfort then it’s not a big deal
🙂 Did I expect any less? I’m not particularly practical or organised, I admit, and yes, probably sentimental, but they do say that is how clutter and hoarding start too and I am prone to that.
Good Whitby fun. When people are gone I cross them out. That way they stay in the book
A good system. My traditional address book is not large but features a number of crossings out – some who moved house and some who changed addresses in a more permanent way.
It is surprising how our nearest and dearests can sometimes fail to act as sensibly as they should when we are always so sensible ourselves.
Exactly! Julia never listens to my advice on anything. Not only that, but she kept referring to my recent self-treatment debacle, which is completely irrelevant, as I never even thought of mowing the lawn while that was going on. Wives, I find, can be very strange at times.
Of course it has to be considered that they tend to live with very strange men.
🙂 🙂 🙂 True!
Yes, a great place for a ghost story! I probably already mentioned this, but years ago I visited Whitby Abbey. Not wanting to delete emails of friends who have died makes perfect sense. It’s a way to keep them near and dear. Wonderful idea for a ghost to communicate via email. It’s probably been done, but if so, I haven’t read a story using that device.
Good ghost stories always need an element of doubt. Is it a ghost or merely someone reusing an email address? 🙂
Yes! But I hope, in the end, it would be a ghost.
A couple of a certain age (I am too smart to use the word elderly) are walking in the woods near their Maine home when they notice a few mossy stones and a stick of some antiquity with grooves cut into it.
The Tale of the Haunted Snow Gauge awaits . . .
Saving addresses and/or emails could be thought of as a form of grieving. The people we know along the way are all woven into the tapestry of our lives, contributing in some way.
True. I feel slightly less odd for doing it now.
That is good.
🙂
I don’t delete the deceased, I’m not sure why, but I’m sure a therapist could tell me. Personally I think it’s just rude to do it, but there again I’m told that I am strange. 😂
Yes, therapy would probably explain it. That makes two of us anyway, so I feel a bit better.