Tag Archives: lack of focus

Saturday Night

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Nasturtiums Wilford Mencap Gardens

Actually, it’s Sunday morning, but I needed a Saturday song to keep the series going. Initially I thought of Elton John, but Saturday night is not alright for fighting now that I have grown up and become sensible, so Whigfield gets the spot with Saturday Night.   It was a  good, cheery song, but hardly a heavyweight classic. A bit like me in fact. Well, apart from the weight, I am cheery and heavyweight. With time  I may become a classic.

Talking of weight, I had scones with marmalade tonight. It was OK, but I’d rather have had apricot jam. I am going to have to get my eyes tested, as those oranges really did look remarkably like apricots on the label.

1995 Robin stamp – it will soon be Christmas

I’ve recently been experimenting with writing multiple articles in one go. I was trying that last night, writing one that I intended using on the Numismatic Society of Nottinghamshire Facebook page and the website of the Peterborough Military History Group. They have two different memberships so I’ve often covered the same subject on both both sites. I thought it would save time to write a longer article (as required for the website), and to cut it down for the Facebook page, which requires less. I have often trimmed articles to do this, though it often surprises me how long it takes.

Anyway, I can confirm that the new approach doesn’t work. It took a long time and produced something that wasn’t right for either use. As I considered the wreck of two hours writing, I realised that I needed to get on with another project as I have promised to help with some minor editing on a book written by my ex-boss. That took two hours too. It may be minor but it needs to be good and accurate.

Then I realised I was supposed to be sorting books to be given away. I had instructions from Julia on this subject.

Michaelmas daisies

The moral is that you can’t do two things at the same time. I have difficulty listening to You Tube whilst I write – music distracts me and anything factual ends with me grinding to a halt as I listen. I can’t do two jobs in different rooms at the same time either, but I feel I should be doing both and focus on neither.

So I’m going to try and concentrate on one job at a time. Let’s see how it goes.

Vine leaves at MENCAP

 

 

 

The Distant Blue Sky

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It is currently dark, windy and wet. It is also chilly. This is not what I expect from June, and it is very disappointing.

I can see some bright blue in the distance, so it might lift a little. However, June 2024 will definitely be going down in the book as “could do better”. That’s a chilling phrase isn’t it? Or it was, when it used to appear in my school reports and initiate discussions with my father about my levels of industry at school.

After two false starts, and cutting out 3-400 words, I am no further forward than I was when i began. Some days are like that. That’s the problem, I often have so much to write about that I can’t write anything. And just because I write something doesn’t mean that it’s going to be interesting or suitable.

We are having a committee meeting of the Numismatic Society tonight, and it is probably going to be dull. I’m in limbo – I’d like to start a recruiting drive and reinvigorate the  medal section, but I’m not going to be here to carry it through so it seems pointless starting it. It’s always struck me as being unfair to set something going then back out and leave the work to someone else. That’s happened to me before and I don’t want to do it to anyone else.

It’s strange how many times you come across people who have plenty of ideas, which they present as a rare and precious gift. They have no idea how common ideas are. even good ideas are ten a penny. What is the rare and precious gift is the time that is needed to turn the idea into something useful.  The people with ideas are usually the people who don’t have time to do anything.

I’ve seen it so many times. The man who wanted us to go recruiting in schools, but was aghast, and acted as if we had insulted him, when we told him we would support him wholeheartedly.

“What?” he said, “You expect me to do it? Where do you expect me to find the time?”

Probably, we suggested, in the same place we did, with the time we already spent on running the club.

He retreated, muttering, and suggesting that our attitude was poor. The word “insulting” actually floated back to us as he left.

It’s raining again, and although I have finished the blog post I have done no actual work, so I had better get on.

There is, I see, another strip of blue sky in the offing. This is good, even though experience suggests that it will be followed by more rain.

That, I suppose, is a metaphor for life, as well as the inspiration for the title.

 

Day 202

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I am writing quickly before going to work on Day 203. After days of heat, sleepless nights, chest infection and various niggling worries, I finally had some quality sleep. More like unconsciousness really, as I spent three hours in a chair dead to the world, even though Julia tried to wake me several times. On finally returning to life it seemed silly to wake myself up by writing so I went straight to bed.

That’s one of the keys to my current sleep pattern, and various other problems. I nap during the evening, wake around ten or eleven, use the computer, wake myself up and end up working until the early hours of the morning. This is bad for brains, blood pressure and weight. It’s not even particularly good for writing as I’m not sure I produce my best stuff at 2am. Mainly I hop from site to site, adding to my store of general knowledge and forgetting what I really mean to do.

This lack of focus is probably the thing I most need to get under control.

Work was warm and stuffy. Phone calls have picked up again – several times I had only just finished one when another came in. A day like that can really slow you down, because it takes longer than you think to adjust your thinking. I was listing a collection of enamel badges – advertising, civil defence, and Yogi Bear all came into the picture, but no sooner did I get into the zone for 1960s kid’s badges when the phone rings with someone wanting a valuation, or wanting to know if we open on Sundays.

Sometimes it can be very difficult to give a polite answer.

Teasel – temporary photo

Photos are just to add some colour, I will add new photos when I get home tonight.

Day 9

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I’m writing this in the early hours of Day 10. I sat at the computer with several hours of Day 9 remaining and started writing other things.

This is how useless my brain has become. I’ve mislaid a camera, failed to read anything except the internet, and have not written any poetry, despite a number of looming deadlines. On the other hand, I have cooked, snoozed, frittered and researched an article about the recipients of some London School Attendance Medals. Whether this is a good use of my time, I’m not sure. Writing and relaxation are good, but focus is what gets things done.

When I’m eating my ham sandwiches tomorrow (gammon, redcurrant jelly, stuffing, mayonnaise and seeded brown bread), I will probably think that the time spent making them was worth the effort. Same goes for the research. However, when I see another deadline sliding by I may wonder if I should have used my time differently.

This weekend I finally bought a new card for my camera. I tend to use them for storage, rather than clogging up the computer with images, but I’m nearly out of space and keep having to delete things to make more room on the card I use for work.

I’ve also invested in a case to keep them all safe and tidy. It’s taken me about three years to get round to doing that. Fortunately, as I’ve waited, the choice has increased and the price has stayed much the same. It has worked out well.

In a hundred years time when my descendants, if any, look at this to get an idea of what great-grandfather’s life was like, this isn’t going to be one of the more memorable days.

Tootlepedal is building up an impressive cycling mileage, Charlie is writing another book, as is Laurie, Derrick is writing his memoires and giving us daily photographs of the New Forest, and I am spending three years over a decision to buy a plastic box.

LA is asking big questions, Helen is altering her garden, Lavinia is feeding cats and making music, and I am showing far too much enthusiasm for sandwiches.

The photo is from 5 years ago – January 2017. Those were the days when we used to go out, and when we didn’t live in fear of a stranger coughing near us. It’s probably time to start adjusting my way of thinking, though it is a lot cheaper staying at home and eating home made soup.

 

Fragmented Thoughts

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I’ve checked my emails, answered comments, written a bit and read a few posts – nothing significant. Yet the day seems to have gone. This is becoming an increasingly common and worrying problem, which I need to address.

Having written that, I’m off to look at a few more posts as I meant to do more, before but found myself wandering off to look at eBay. I think one of my problems might be lack of focus.

Yes, definitely lack of focus. I started writing lengthy comments on a couple of blogs then decided not to post them. Long comments and strong opinions are perhaps best left for my own blog. It doesn’t seem polite to cause ripples on other blogs.

I’ve been listening to one of the new breed of continuity announcers on TV recently. I didn’t really pay much attention to the older type with their Received Pronunciation, because that was something I grew up with. It didn’t bother me when TV companies went over the announcers with regional accents because that’s how most people speak. However, I am getting a bit fed up with some of the newer ones. They have gone beyond regional and some are now verging on sloppy.

It’s a tricky area, as things that I dislike about it (the dropping of “t” from words and use of “f” for “th”) are features of Estuary English, which is accepted as a region, and have been known in earlier dialects. OK, there are more important worries, but if someone says “fought” to you it is nice to be clear whether they are talking about thinking or fighting. When “th” becomes “f” it isn’t always clear.

I’m in danger of becoming the modern version of the people who defended RP at the BBC, which would be strange. I could probably write a post on whether I now speak better than I used to, or whether standards are slipping so badly that I’m starting to look sophisticated.

Either way, I half expect to look out of my window and see a pig fly by as I watch souls in torment skating on the frozen lakes of fire that were once Hell.