Tag Archives: cynicism

Day 195

Day 200 is looming . . .

Will I soon have done 200 lazy titles, and will the time have passed so soon?

Numbers do not lie, which is the trouble with numbers. Apart from when they are i9n the hands of a skilled accountant. At that point numbers can do almost anything.

200 feels like the pinnacle of a roller-coaster, and we all know what comes next . . .

I’m very late with this post, having fallen asleep in front of the TV late in the evening and slept almost until dawn. Well, till dawn, let’s face it. It is now light and the birds are not singing. We must have got to that time of year when they all move out to find more food. That’s another sign that the year is moving on.

It’s also a sign that I need to become more regular in my habits. proper bedtimes are not only good for sleeping properly, but for blood pressure, weight and Alzheimer’s. n fact, going to bed at the right time is, according to the internet, good for lots of things. Strange then, that doctors seem unaware of the benefits. They certainly don’t mention it when I se them.

They just want me to take more pills.

Apart from depression. The favoured remedy for depression, I’m told, is no longer pills, but talking to somebody. The doctor gives you a number, you ring it and somebody on the other end tells you that they are too busy to talk to you now but will be back in touch in six to eight weeks. This has happened to two people I know. It’s a logical development from the concept of receptionists doing triage at the surgery.

Soon we will be able to ring the NHS and they will give us the number of a local plumber if you need tubes fixing, or a car mechanic if your heart requires a couple of crocodile clips and a battery . I really don’t know why we ever thought training doctors and building hospitals was cost effective.

In the early hours of the morning I can grow very cynical.

Day 163

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I just had a minor panic – checked the date and, fr some reason cross-referenced it against a calendar. Today is Day 164, not 163 as in the title. How did it happen? How had I manged to get it wrong? How was I going to correct it? Well, as it happened I solved everything by looking at the clock on the computer. The 13th June is Day 164, but am actually writing about the day that finished ten minutes ago, which is Day 163. I worry too much. And when I don’t have enough real stuff to worry about, I make something up.

We had dinner at the Harvester in Wilford last night, as part of the visit of Number Two Son. like so many places these days, they have signs up blaming supply chain issues for possible shortages. They must think I’m an idiot, because I remember the days before “supply chain issues” became a catch-all excuse. In those days they still ran short of items on the menu and that was due to inefficiency on their part. It still is, it’s just that they can now blame Brexit or Covid.

Apart from the meal we couldn’t have because they had run out, they got two drinks on the seven person order wrong and had no bread ready at the salad bar. When they eventually brought it to the table they didn’t being enough butter.

All First World problems, I admit, and nothing that would be a source of dismay in Ukraine if it happened there. However, in the context of the UK in 2022, it’s not good enough.

That’s before we come on to the salad. The selection was woeful, the quality was limp and the new system is, frankly, inefficient and cynical. Quality and availability have always been questionable at times. But at least you were master of your own selection. You can no longer serve yourself and fill a bowl, you have to be served by their staff, and they seem reluctant to fill the bowl, so we ended up with much less salad than we used to get. I exercised my right to “unlimited” salad by asking for seconds, everyone else was too embarrassed.

This is supposedly for health reasons, but the need for Covid restrictions seems to have passed. It’s only the Harvester salad bar that seems to need restrictions. As I recall, it always left a little to be desired in hygiene terms, and the new restrictions are, I feel, intended not to promote health but to promote profits by restricting salad portions.

Or am I just being cynical?

The photo is from Julia. The journalist commemorated on the plaque is better known as J M Barrie in case it doesn’t sound familiar.

Day 46

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What can I say that I haven’t already said? I’m afraid that today was much like yesterday, but without a rainbow. This evening was much like yesterday evening, apart from the fact I didn’t go out. I have, however, managed to get back into the Facebook page, so here is the link. It appears that although we had 14 people at the Zoom meting last month and 17 there last night, we can only manage 8 on Facebook. It’s hard work running a society.

I am on the committee, mainly because, at the last AGM, I said that if they had difficulty getting anyone to step forward to take up the vacant spot, I would do it. As a result my name was recently forwarded to the Charities Commission and I have already had two emails from them. This is two more emails than I got when I was previously a committee member at a rugby club which was also a charity. Things move on and perhaps become better organised, but does it really make a difference? I will comment no further.

The charity sector also covers big businesses like private schools looking for tax advantages and a variety of individuals who fancy a couple of foreign trips a year and somebody to pay for them to have a new car. Cynical? Yes I am. Wrong? Let’s just say I’ve seen some of these in action. Notice how many of these charities are set up to help foreigners in exotic holiday destinations and how few are set up to help people in the cold and grimy parts of the UK.

I’m definitely thinking of going back to titles for posts rather than numbers. When you use titles you can ignore how fast the days are going by. At this rate it will soon be time to think of planning for Christmas . . .

Be Careful What You Wish For

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Only one day after saying I was waiting impatiently for news from two editors, one got back to me.

Not only did they get back to me, but they told me they were going to pass on the haibun which, it seems, lack depth, as the haiku fail to take the reader on a step beyond the prose.

This is slightly depressing as I was just beginning to think I was getting the hang of things. About a year ago I had several haibun returned as the haiku were felt to be a step to far away from the prose and were not related enough.

Rejection I can cope with. It is, as I recently said, simply an indication that one particular editor, at this time, doesn’t think that the work is right for publication. It isn’t personal and it isn’t necessarily an opinion shared by other editors.

What does concern me a little with this rejection is that the specific objection is one that I thought I’d addressed. It’s not about my ability to write, it’s about my judgement of what is good and what is bad. I actually thought I was getting better and was moderately happy with them. (I am never fully happy with any submissions, even when they are published, I even went over yesterdays Limmerbun to alter a line this afternoon).

I have just been and looked at about twenty haibun in a couple of magazines. About a third of them had haiku attached which were stronger than mine. Another third featured haiku much the same as mine. The final third featured haiku which bore little relationship to anything that had gone on in the prose – my previous problem. This, of course, is just my opinion, and as we have just seen, my opinion may not be correct. I would however suggest that on another day, with another editor and a different magazine, these haibun could have been accepted,

This all goes to show that there is no good and bad in haibun, just things that gain approval and things that don’t. Today, I didn’t. Watch, learn, move on. I will tweak them over the next few days. It’s not so much improving them as moving them more into the area where they are likely to be accepted for publication. Or does that sound too cynical?

I will leave you with these wise words from one of our great, but unappreciated, philosophers.

“When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.”― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Sunday Once More

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We’ve been out today for lunch in Derbyshire – meeting Number One son for lunch in Castleton, which is roughly half way between us. It was a very pleasant drive and an excellent lunch. Though we were spaced out in the dining room Derbyshire was a bit crowded at times and it’s easy to see how the virus spreads even when we are supposed to be being careful.

Everyone seems more chatty these days, as if the lockdown has made us more open to talking to strangers. It’s probably the only good thing to come from it. Well, maybe not quite – I have also broken my habit of ordering takeaway meals and buying supermarket sandwiches.

I could tell you more but I’m always quite reticent about discussing, or photographing other people for the blog. Part of me doesn’t want to take responsibility for talking about other people, and another part of me thinks that their stories are for them to tell. I would make a very poor autobiographer because of this. However, as I have had a dull, boring and even dreary life, I would make a poor autobiographer for many other reasons too.

View of Castleton, Derbyshire

Tonight I had another rejection. It was for haiku, and I tend to expect this as they are not my strongest suit. I fact, I have only ever had one accepted and this was probably out of charity.

It was a very nice rejection and the editor thanked me for submitting them, told me they had enjoyed all my haiku but had not, in this case selected any for the magazine. There was a suspicion of a double-edged compliment when they told me that they hoped to read some of them in other publications soon. That could be genuine good wishes for success, or just a coded way of telling me to go away and bother someone else.

Being cynical, I checked back a couple of years (I have, as you know, a large store of old emails) and found that this was exactly the same rejection message I had received in 2018.

My suspicion about a coded message is taking a more solid form.

Looking on the bright side, I have had three sets of haiku returned, which allows me to mix and match and send them out to a couple of other editors. As with the previous recipients I am sure they will all be very grateful.

View from Castleton, Derbyshire

10 Points about Writing Ten Point Lists

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I was looking at an article on generating ideas. When you search for “generating ideas” on Google, two trends emerge.

One is a big business theme about generating major strategic ideas to make millions and/or change the world. That’s probably a bit more than I need, though it has its charms.

How about lacing the new corona virus vaccines with fish DNA so that future generations can live in the sea? You could even breed groups of piscatorialy enhanced people specifically to pick plastic litter from the oceans.

Just a thought. But if it works I expect a Nobel Prize.

The other theme is about generating ideas for writing articles. That wasn’t quite what I was after either, though I did spend a few hours reading various sites and seeing how people reused the same information time after time to generate blog content.

Ten point lists seem to be a favourite.

So here’s my list –

10 Points about Ways to Writing Ten Point Lists

Make sure you have ten points. People will notice if you only have nine.

Start with number one. Why re-invent the wheel?

Several of the points can be the same thing written in a different way.

Point four. Don’t be afraid to state the obvious.

Steal it off another blog. That’s how they got theirs.

Don’t spend too much time over it, they don’t give Pulitzers for 10 Point Lists.

Make a general comment on the social,aspects of the list as in ‘I think we can all agree that this is particularly relevant in lockdown’. Hide it a little way down the list so people don’t notice you are being lazy.

Point nine. Add emphasis. Or, in other words, say the same thing again (see point 3). (Or point 4).

For a change, why not try a 13 point list for Halloween?

Simple.

For the autumn I will compile a 13 point list about writing 13 point lists for Halloween. I will use the ten point list, and add three more, change the order and if anyone queries it I will say that this is an example about getting the most out of your research. Or recycling my rubbish.

I think I’m getting the hang of this blogging stuff.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Admitting Defeat

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I am going to admit defeat. I have been struggling for things to say for a week or more and am now going to admit that I am defeated. There is no point in dressing it up – I have lost my ability to be light, frothy and cheerful.

I have no confidence in the government, who are lurching from one knee-jerk reaction to the next.

I have no confidence in my fellow citizens, who appear to be in the grip of panic-buying hysteria.

I have no confidence in many of the professionals who appear on TV. There have been a few who were worth listening to, but by definition, if they know what they are doing they are generally too busy for TV.

Does this sound bitter and negative? Sorry if that is the case. However, I assure you that it is upbeat and mild compared to the earlier versions that I wrote and discarded in the last few days.

I also think we are in the middle of a grandmother’s railings scenario – they want us to concentrate on washing hands rather than examine their policies.

I have been looking at various information on hand hygiene and flu transmission with a view to making sure I am doing the right things. It seems that hand-washing reduces respiratory infections by 16%. Yes, one sixth. It’s worth doing, but it’s clearly not the entire answer and it’s been diverting attention from other matters.

Now that I’m in the groove I can feel a rant coming on. I’m amazed by some of the things I’ve been reading, and very interested in the way that things are phrased to avoid giving information to casual readers like me.

I did find some concrete information – as a result of a hand hygiene campaign in the NHS a few years ago the use of soap and sanitiser went up and the incidence of infections went down. From that I infer that people weren’t washing their hands properly and patients were becoming ill as a result.

Try this, for more information. It’s illuminating, and frightening. The basic information is that the WHO calculates handwashing rates at 40% and in an American hospital study only 22% washed their hands after seeing a patient (rising to 57% when they knew they were being watched).

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

I used the owl as the header picture because we all need wisdom. And because I don’t have a picture of a Boris Johnson doll with pins in it.

Charity, Children and Christmas

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It’s finally here (which is more than you can say about the promised article on the Gibraltar £20 coin), and in just over three hours it will be Christmas. It seems like a lot of effort goes into just one day.

It also seems like a lot of guilt goes into it, as we are emotionally blackmailed into giving money to the homeless, foreign children and donkeys. Now, I have great sympathy for the homeless, and for foreign children who are needlessly blind, or in need of fresh water, but I don’t appreciate the tactics of the charities in swamping the Christmas TV screens with these adverts.

As for the donkeys, I may sound heartless but compared to a child I don’t really see the suffering in the same league. I also think that on charity quiz shows the celebrities should be prohibited from raising money for animal charities, but that’s a personal view and as the RSPCA raised £81 million from legacies last year it seems there are plenty of people who are happy to give.

It’s an interesting document, the RSPCA report, though I notice that , once again, it fails to call for the prosecution of people who deliberately breed faults into dogs in the name of breed standards. Another personal point there. I must be careful not to rant.

I give to two charities monthly One is for children overseas and one for children in this country. I’ve been thinking of transferring the former donation to the homeless in this country, but after seeing the adverts I’ve decided to leave it. I may transfer the second one, as I’ve had words with the charity over the years about their tactics in trying to bully me to give more. It shows the power, and wisdom, of the TV adverts, where one has stopped me withdrawing support, and the other, which doesn’t advertise, might lose out. On the other hand, as it’s the charity and not the kids that have upset me, I may leave that too.

I’m in better financial shape than I have been for the last few years, so I may just have to give more, as I’m beginning to think about the homeless and the Salvation Army. Their adverts at Christmas always make me feel that way and General Booth came from Nottingham so I should support the local man.

And that, via a circuitous route, takes us back to the beginning of the post. It looks like the adverts, irritating, and cynical as they may be, do serve a purpose.

I will now wish those of you who celebrate Christmas good wishes for the holiday. Those of you who don’t celebrate Christmas can have my good wishes too. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, imagine me eating a large lunch, with turkey and Hasselback potatoes, and snoozing in front of a feast of variable quality TV.

Dog Show Prize Medal

A Short Note on Difficult Customers

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Sometimes on eBay you run up against an immovable object. With over a thousand items listed for sale at any time we are obviously going to make mistakes. In nine months we’ve sent the wrong item twice and had one complaint about quality. That’s less than quarter of a per cent.

We now have another complaint. With hindsight we should have expected it as the buyer asked for a discount before buying. We politely declined but he ordered anyway. We then had a letter of complaint telling us this was the worst lot he’d ever bought and various other things.

We offered him his money back.

He’s just replied that we’ve missed the point. He doesn’t want to send them back for a refund, he wants to struggle selling them and moan that the charity he sells for will lose money. He’s very keen to tell you he sells for charity.

There’s not much you can do to help some people.

Cynicism prompts me to suggest that his next note will contain a threat about negative feedback and another suggestion about discount. After all, he does sell for charity you know…

A Misty Morning and Thoughts of Mortality

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It was, as the title suggestd, misty this morning. Due to Julia’s start time it was also dark, so there was no photo-opportunity. I may try again later.

Mist, which can be a nuisance on a long trip, is always welcome at this time of year because it tells me that Spring is coming. There’s a fine line between yearning for Spring and wishing your life away. and this year is probably the first time I’ve felt this quite so sharply. The last twelve months has made me focus on health, age and mortality in a way I’ve never done before.

It’s also the first year where I’ve been so aware that there’s more to winter than crisp mornings and a nip in the air. This year I’ve had to worry about falling and the fact that I need to keep warm. O;d people die in winter, and I’ve been feeling old. In fact I’ve been feeling Very Old for the last few weeks as all my joints seems to have turned up the pain setting. If I was youmger I’d insert a Spinal Tap reference here about the pain levels being turned up to eleven. But I’m old. So I won’t.

They used to say that one of the signs of old age was that the policemen were looking younger. That happened ages ago, and didn’t really bother me. My personal milestone, is that Life Peers seem to be getting younger. I’ve added a link for readers who aren’t familiar with the UK’s constitution arrangements but, frankly, it doesn’t help.

All you need to know is that in the old days (basically from the dawn of time until 1958) if you worked hard, did your best and tried to be a useful member of society you would be allowed to wear yourself out and die.

If you added a layer of corruption, politics, back-stabbing, lick-spittling and (often) cash to that , you could become a Peer. In fact, let’s face it, if you did enough of this, you could get by without the hard work, doing your best and being a useful member of society. If you look at the current crop of Peers it’s hard to see many that will be of any use until we have Soylent Green on the menu. Having lied, cheated and bribed your way to the top you could then pass on your title to future generations of inbred offspring.

All this changed in 1958. After 1958 you were generally no longer allowed to pass it on, and there was more politics involved. Because if you want to improve something, adding more input from politicians really is the way to go, isn’t it?

Getting back to the point, Life Peers are looking younger. To add insult to injury, they also remind me of my lack of success as they all look sleeker, richer and socially superior to me.

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Life after the Care Farm