Tag Archives: lockdown

I rose a little earlier than usual this morning, which is part of my new plan. It is necessary, after weeks of casual slacking, to return to the world. Rising earlier will help me get more work done, and if I get up fifteen minutes earlier each day I won’t notice the gradual change. By the time I go back to work I will be rising with the lark and facing the day with fortitude. Not that we have a lot of larks in Nottingham, in the morning or, indeed, at any time of the day.

As I descended, ready for the day, the post arrived. I now have a new supply of bran for the bokashi bucket. We are producing a lot more vegetable waste these days as a result of healthy eating. As we gradually work our way through the carrots I am also peeling more – there’s something very unappetising about the skin of an aging carrot.

I will be finalising our shopping list later in the day, and carrots won’t be on it.

The second parcel contained masks. I’ve only bought ten, but I thought I’d get a few just in case. Government advice is still that we don’t need them, but this might change and it’s easier to wear a proper mask than make one from a handkerchief and two rubber bands.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

In the evening, acting on Tootlepedal’s advice, I watched some improving TV. First I watched a painting programme, which would have been useful if I had any talent for painting. Then I did the washing up while Julia watched an Andy Warhol exhibition at the The Modern. We then sat down for two programmes about Philip Larkin. He was an interesting though slightly repellent character, but I knew that. The first programme was by someone who had known him and was quite interesting. The second was by someone who had trained as an actor before becoming an academic. That one was interesting because it showed how an academic can build a media career.

Just after midnight I checked in with TESCO, which has no delivery or collection, and ASDA, which did have a collection slot. I did some ordering then had a look at the list for our Thursday collection. It’s hard doing the shopping by remote control.

Plenty of Time to Think

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First, an apology. Last night I seem to have sent some comments to trash by accident. I managed to track them down and think I have replied to all of them, but I can’t get them back onto the main site. I hope you have all had replies, but if you haven’t let me know. If you have been ignored it’s down to stupidity rather than bad manners.

Earlier today I was watching Walker, Texas Ranger. It comes on after Perry Mason, which follows Matlock. With the best will in the world, it isn’t a particularly demanding schedule. However, whilst watching Walker, I did pay some attention to the plot, if you can call it that.

The villain was a violent criminal and fraudster who had started his own church after purchasing his ordination certificate online, or possibly some sort of forerunner of the internet.

Now, what you may not know about me was that I once planned a career as a fraudster, having formed the idea for a postal business college. In those days it was legal to offer meaningless qualifications through the post and you could get £1,000 for a PhD – all the candidate needed to was send a cheque and write an essay, which was a lot easier than taking a proper PhD. I had it all ready to launch, including the name Carlton Business College, when the government changed the law and out a stop to it. Fortunately I had not incurred any financial costs so all I lost was my time and my dreams.

Before you ask, no, I didn’t have any qualms about it. I had just done a post-graduate diploma course as a mature student, and had learned several interesting things about “proper” academic institutions. One was that several of the overseas students on the course were intending to sell copies of their certificates on completion of the course. The second was that not everyone on the course had to go through the same selection process.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I, having applied for the course without having a degree, had to undergo a stringent interview and written test. Some of the overseas students, who paid many times the fees we were paying, had managed to get on the course without qualifications, without a written test and without the ability to write intelligible English.

Julia, who is much more intellectually accomplished than I am, noted the same when she did her Master’s degree.

So there you are, even today “proper” universities are allowed to peddle substandard qualifications to overseas students in return for cash, but I am not.

Anyway, enough of my lack of morals, and back to today. It seems, when I checked up, that you can become an ordained minister for $29. It is priced in dollars, because the “church” is American. I’m fascinated by the American marriage laws, where a$29 dollar minister is allowed to conduct legally binding marriages in 48 states.

Then I wandered onto this site, and wasted more of my day.

By the time I write my next post I may well be the Reverend Quercus. Julia says we have enough trouble without me attracting any Divine Wrath, but I’m seriously thinking of it. Well, it’s not like I’m doing anything else for the next three weeks, is it?

Photo by Vlad Chețan on Pexels.com

When I searched the free photo library for “dog collar” this wasn’t actually what I was hoping for.

Appointments, Complaints and Click & Collect

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I can smell pasties. They are warming rather than baking in the oven, because I bought them instead of making them. In the end they will still taste good and it has saved time.

I couldn’t bake at the moment even if I wanted to. I do not have enough flour. I did have some on order for my Click and Collect run tomorrow, but I see they have cancelled it because they have run out.

It looks like I will be shopping in person next week because I cannot get a delivery or a Click and Collect slot for the next three weeks. Looks like I’m going to have to disguise myself as a pensioner again and see what is on the shelves. They cancelled my broccoli too, and the antiseptic wipes. It’s not much of a service really, even on the rare occasion when you can get a slot. Tomorrow I have to drive to the opposite side of town to do my shopping, but as it limits my contact to one shop assistant in a car park rather than dozens of shelf stackers and pensioners in the shop, I’m prepared to put up with the inconvenience.

Julia had an email last week, telling her she had an appointment with the doctor today at 11.10. She rang just after the email to query it but the receptionist said that the appointment had been entered on the system by the doctor herself and (a) she couldn’t tell Julia what was about or (b) why it was necessary to go to the surgery. You could probably have added (c) couldn’t be bothered to find out. To be fair they seem to be working with just one receptionist these day, so she probably didn’t have time to do anything else.

A few days later I had a letter from the hospital telling me that my telephone appointment with rheumatology had been brought forward and that I had to be at the hospital for 10.45 on Thursday morning. This arrived on Saturday so I had to wait until today to ring and check.

We obviously weren’t happy with these appointments as there’s no point in self-isolating if you get called out by the NHS to mingle with all manner of sick people.

We were on the point of leaving for Julia’s appointment when the phone rang.It was the doctor.

“Oh!” Said Julia, “I’m just setting off for the appointment now.”

This puzzled the doctor, who thought she’d arranged for a telephone appointment. Clearly, there is room for improvement with the system.

I then rang the hospital. It took me over twenty five minutes to get an answer as everyone passed me on or avoided picking up the phone. Eventually I did get an answer, the letter was a mistake and they would phone me to conduct the appointment.

So again, a system that isn’t working. It’s difficult to understand how, having sent me one letter with a telephone appointment, they didn’t just reprint it with the new details. This isn’t really a problem due to the coronavirus, it’s a problem with basic inefficiency.

However, I smiled and thanked everybody as they passed me on. They have enough problems without me grumbling and complaining.

But it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to grumble and complain on here – if we’d left five minutes earlier than planned, or if I’d just turned up at hospital what would they have done then?

Just to make my day worse the card reader on the computer packed up. I really don’t know why they can’t build one that lasts. Camera manufacturers seem able to build durable systems, why can’t computer manufacturers?

Fortunately, the pasties and ratatouille were good, and the rhubarb and apple crumble was excellent, so it all turned out well in the end. There is little that can’t be improved by the addition of fruit crumble.

Sorry about the lack of photos – I took an easy shortcut and duplicated a couple of recent shots.

Robin

The Bludgeonings of Chance

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Three weeks ago we had freedom, full shops and nothing to fear, and we didn’t appreciate how lucky we were.

Three weeks ago it was cold and I was wearing a fleece and jumper in the house and sleeping under two duvets. Now I have discarded the fleece and jumper and a duvet. However, it looks like the cold may be making a return, so things may not have changed as much as I thought.

Chives

Cranesbill

PoppyRA

Three weeks ago I was always tired, as I never managed to get any decent sleep. These days I am remarkably well rested and and my life has taken on a natural rhythm, which sees me sitting up until the early hours then sleeping in until it is time to get up and eat brunch. It’s not a way of living that will survive the resumption of work, but it’s very relaxing.

For me, life in lockdown has not been too bad. There have been bits where I worried about where all the food had gone, and even a short period where I worried about dying. Then I realised that I wasn’t going to starve and that there was nothing I could do about dying. So I forgot to worry.

I’m not really worrying about anything right now. I’m taking steps to ensure a good supply of food and I’m keeping myself isolated but that’s not the same as lying awake at night worrying about starvation and death.

I have accumulated a number of health problems that are mainly to do with over-indulgence, and if the coronavirus gets me it will be my own fault. To be honest, until I read the information on factors that might lead to my death I didn’t even think I was ill. I kept reading about elderly people with underlying health problems and thinking “Poor sods. I’m glad I’m not one of them.”

Honeysuckle

Allium

Poppy

Then I actually read the list and realised I was one of them.

I am currently preparing for death by looking up famous last words and combing through poetry for suitable quotes.

It doesn’t do to be morbid. On the other hand it’s just as well to have your famous last words ready, because if they aren’t good enough they may never become famous.

Burntstump Country Park, Notts

The photographs are, again, from a time when I was allowed to drive to places and walk round.

Too Much Time, Too Many Thoughts

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Last night I became pensive. It’s one of those words, like costive, that you don’t see often, and it generally isn’t a good thing. (As a subsidiary thought, I checked costive to make sure I had the meaning right, and was amused to find it had a second meaning, which seems descriptively appropriate – “slow or reluctant in speech or action; unforthcoming”).

This state of mind was caused by an ill-advised look at property websites. I’ve recently been forming an ambition to return to the East of England as my sister and all Julia’s siblings are there. The thought that formed in my mind was that I should sell everything of value to raise money and reduce clutter, and look for a cheap house in Norfolk.

There are two sorts of house in Norfolk – the ones that I can’t afford and the ones that I don’t want to live in (otherwise known as the ones I can afford). I would like the one I found that has several sheds and a private mooring on one of the Broads. Based on current estimates of my worth, including the jar of £1 coins and the stuff down the sides of the chair cushions, I definitely can’t afford it.

Mencap Garden April 2019

The ones I can afford are generally small, Victorian and badly designed. They normally have a bathroom that was added long after they were built, which is right at the back of the house (having been built as an extension to the kitchen). That’s a long trip for a man with a bad knee and a substandard bladder. They are, in short, great value houses to start in, but not that great when you are looking at somewhere for your twilight years.

At that point I started comparing my life to the one I had planned for myself as a teenager.

Compared to the life I had planned when I was 14, my current life is deficient in sunshine, palm trees, cocktails and bikini-clad women. However, as my bald head burns badly, I hardly drink and I’m married, I don’t really notice these things.

When I was 16 I wanted to be a University Lecturer in History. The dream, by now, featured sunshine, manicured college lawns, real ale and female undergraduates.

I suppose you are starting to form some conclusions about the way my mind worked as a teenager.

The dream came to an abrupt end when I was shouted at by a careers teacher. “Don’t waste my time. Teaching is what people say when they can’t thing of anything else to say!”

I’d said teaching because it seemed less pretentious that University Lecturer and didn’t want to upset him. I’m not sure it worked. To be charitable, it’s possible, as an ex-metalwork teacher who had been moved into careers advising (despite, I feel it is fair to say, a lack of talent for careers teaching) that he nursed a grudge against the profession and didn’t want me to end up like him.

By the time I was 18 I was working on a poultry farm, worrying about money and wondering where my dreams had gone. To a large extent, this is still the same today, though with fewer chickens and more arthritis.

That was what caused my introspection.

Mencap Garden April 2019

Fortunately these episodes don’t generally survive the sunrise and after writing about it (well, you need to write about something) and eating a bacon sandwich I am ready for the rest of the day. I’m currently watching an item on TV about a woman with a collection of 400 novelty teapots and reading the internet about more people getting into trouble for their comments on Boris Johnson.

This multi-tasking stuff is getting easier as time goes on.

A Relaxing Sort of Day

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This morning I read several blog posts, did some writing and resisted the temptation to turn on the TV.

We had tomatoes and mushrooms on sourdough toast for lunch (my slightly chaotic buying has landed us with a surfeit of mushrooms), the post arrived (bearing a parcel of tomato plants and woolen twine for Julia) and we are now watching Father Brown on TV.

The post also held our letter from the government. Just in case we hadn’t heard, it tells us, amongst other things, to stay at home. This has already been covered in so many ways in the last few weeks that this further message is superfluous. No doubt it seemed useful at the time they thought of it, but it’s been a bit slow in coming and is now just waste paper.

Later, I intend to do some shredding and watch Pointless.

Ah, shredding…

It took some doing. I hate to think how many sheets we did, but it took the two of us over an hour to do it, mostly by hand as the shredder didn’t show a lot of enthusiasm for the job.

When I took over managing the youth side of the club my first action was to cut the joining form down from three pages to one. With over 100 junior players that saved 200 sheets of paper straight off. I’m amazed at how much paperwork some people can generate. He, to be fair, was always of the opinion that I didn’t keep enough records. He was probably correct, but I did it for six years, never had a problem and, best of all, saved a few trees from being pulped.

There are now two bin bags of ripped paper in the hallway waiting to go out. We tried to put it all in one, but there was so much weight in it the bag started to rip.

After that we had tea and Battenberg cake, and relaxed with Pointless as a pigeon on the chimney pot filled the room with cooing.

I’m going to look for photos now, then will plan the evening meal after posting. I have had worse days.

I thought I’d adopt a cake theme for today.

Eternal Sunset of the Trivial Mind

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“There is hardly anything in the world that someone cannot make a little worse and sell a little cheaper, and the people who consider price alone are that person’s lawful prey.”

That’s a quote often attributed to John Ruskin but, as with so many quotes, there is no evidence he ever said it. However, there is definitely no doubt that it describes my buying habits.

About twenty years ago I bought a cheap, low quality shredder. That wasn’t what I meant to buy, but it’s what you end up with when you buy the cheapest.

About nineteen years ago Julia bought a more expensive, better quality, shredder, because she was fed up of my running commentary on the uselessness of mine. It worked well for years, before with, a screech and a smell of hot plastic, it stopped, and never started again.

That is why I’ve just been muttering at the older machine, whilst prodding at it with a screwdriver and unravelling yards of creased paper from the cutters. I fear the blades are not as sharp as they used to be and, despite the supposed five sheet capacity, they are struggling to cut three.

This is not what you want to see when you have a pile of rugby club records to shred. Even after my efforts of the morning I still have a pile of paper three inches thick to get through. A lot of it is pink and yellow sheets from three-part registration forms and a lot of the rest contains personal details so can’t be re-used as scrap paper.

This is what happens when a conscientious man with access to his work’s printer keeps records. I’ve already disposed of various ten-year-old policies and grant applications.

It’s not as if they are really my responsibility – I was landed with a box of them by a man who is clearly smarter, and more cunning, than I am. After several years of trying to pass them on I have admitted defeat and started to shred. It is not going well, as you can probably tell from the reference to the screwdriver. There is, I can confirm, a small margin between a shredder and a device for screwing up paper in tight folds.

When I buy another I am going to buy an expensive one and hope the price reflects the quality.

The header picture is shredded paper – I took it myself. I did originally take the lazy option but the image search offered a single picture, which was actually a cheese grater. I’m beginning to think that my early enthusiasm for this feature may have been misplaced.

The lower pictures are sunset, taken from the back of the house.

Sunset over Sherwood

Tales from Lockdown

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“Amateurs talk about tactics, but professionals study logistics.” – Gen. Robert H. Barrow, USMC (Commandant of the Marine Corps) noted in 1980

Julia has had a lecture from Number One Son. She let something slip about her trip to hospital and he wanted to know why she hadn’t told him. I’m beginning to know what my grandparents felt like when my parents told them off for various misdemeanours (like the time we called on my grandmother and found her standing in the kitchen sink to replace a light bulb).

I have a fairly hands-off approach to the care of the elderly and, as with my child rearing, feel that they turned out well despite my neglect.

Anyway, Number One Son and his partner sent Julia flowers. That is what is in the picture. I’m not actually sure whether partner is accurate, because nobody ever tells me anything. I’m considered to be “tactless”. However, he’s been hanging round with her for several years now and she hasn’t applied for a restraining order so I deduce that they may be an item.

We bought the curtains at a car boot about 15 years ago

Then it was my turn, as he texted me to make sure we had enough food in.

Ha! Do I look like I’m going to let myself starve? I read a quote recently – you can see it at the top of the post. It applies to many other things too. The fight against coronavirus shows how important it is to have the right equipment. The food shortages show how important it is to have strong supply chains.

Anyway – I have enough food to eat well for the next two weeks. After that I will run out of bread and milk, so will have to have black tea and make porridge with water (yes, I know that’s the proper way, but I do like milk). After that I have food for two more weeks eating out of cans and packets – including Spam and canned haggis. I’m pretty sure there are enough odds and ends for a few days beyond that too, but they really don’t bear thinking about.

At the moment I still can’t get a food delivery for this month, so I’m going shopping on Wednesday morning. TESCO has a Wednesday morning slot for the elderly and infirm. If it cuts down on queuing I have no pride.

The top two pictures show the flowers and, regrettably, the Car Boot curtains we bought about 15 years ago. Garish, dated, but functional and cheap.

The other shows roasted veg (carrot, parsnip, leek and broccoli) with cauliflower and cheese sauce. I made the sauce like Welsh Rarebit, hence the yellow colouring – it’s from the mustard.

My tea tonight

In Praise of Potatoes

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One of the better events of my week was the purchase of potatoes last Sunday. We had run out and although we don’t eat a lot (I’m trying to cut down on carbs) I was uncomfortable relying on rice and pasta. Although I like rice and pasta they will never replace potatoes.

We had mashed potatoes tonight, with butter, mustard and spring onions. Whilst I was looking up ways to jazz up the mash I read a recipe (if you can call it that) where the writer said “I’ve never used a hand masher before”.

What!?

(That’s an interrobang, by the way, it is, a proper punctuation mark with a fifty year history, and not just something I’ve made up. That doesn’t excuse it, but on the other hand , how do you express the proper degree of incredulity at someone who writes recipes but has never used a hand masher. How have they been mashing their vegetables until now?)

We are getting into ring-pull territory here? Do you remember that? It was 2017 when someone posted on Mumsnet with the opinion that only poor people used can openers. Well-off people bought cans with ring-pulls.

I, needless to say, have a can opener and buy the cheapest cans. That makes me poor, though if I were really poor I’d buy my chick peas in bags and soak them myself.

Interesting events tonight as the Chief Medical Officer of Scotland has resigned after admitting visiting her second home, against her own advice. Hypocritical? Yes. But if she’s one of the best medical brains we have, is her resignation the best thing for Scotland or, as we are attached, the UK?

I had to laugh though, when I read a Twitter comment asking if Prince Charles will be warned for going to his Scottish holiday home to self-isolate, instead of staying at home in England.

As you can see, the free photo resource is not the be all and all. I searched for “Prince Charles”. This what I got. Thank goodness I didn’t search for Prince Albert.

shallow focus photography of a cavalier king charles spaniel

Photo by Steshka Willems on Pexels.com

The Week in Restrospect

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It’s strange, looking back, that the posts I’ve written don’t necessarily reflect the week as I remember it. You could be forgiven, after reading the posts, for thinking that I’ve had a week of isolation, food shortages and queues. I suppose I have, but it hasn’t seemed like that.

Despite everything, it’s not been a bad week. Having stocked up on Sunday, I have not had to worry about running short of food.

Whilst waiting for the pharmacy queue to go down we had a ride round and checked out some other queues for reference. I don’t actually remember the queues that well, what I remember is the flowers.

We have a dazzling display of dandelions in the local verges and a few wood celandines, clinging on under trees by the roadside. They seem to be Lesser Celandines when I check them up on the internet, a flower mentioned in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I have read the book many times but I’d never noticed that before. It is, I’m told, also known as pilewort as it can be used medically to treat haemorrhoids. The leaves are edible in spring and poisonous later in the year. This does not motivate me to sample its culinary uses.

The blossom is coming out too, and spring is well advanced. This is a double-edged sword – I like spring, but it seems to pass so quickly.

We now have a plan for work. I had a letter through the post this morning (I’d had it by email yesterday) detailing the way forward. I am now on official leave of absence and will be fully paid until further notice. At some point I may have to drop to 80% but even so, it’s a lot better than being jobless.

As a result I am still able to treat the lockdown as a bonus holiday, though I do feel a bit guilty about not going in to work.

The new edition of Medal News came out this week, with my article in it. As usual, I read it and thought “could do better”. I often do that with the blog when I look back on past posts, particularly when I see the typos I allow to slip through. Now that I have a few weeks of free time I must get down to planning some more articles. I’d like to think that it entertains and adds to the sum of human knowledge but really it’s just an ego trip.

It won’t make me rich or famous, but it’s nice to be able to tell people about it.

This is in contrast to the results of the National Poetry Competition. I don’t mind not winning, because it’s an unrealistic hope, but I do mind that the winning entry and several others are dreary, unpleasant things. They even have a content warning about them on the Poetry Society website.

To me, that’s wrong. If you honestly believe a poem is good and powerful, and worth the prize, you just print it. No apologies, no link to Samaritans, just print it.

If, on the other hand it’s simply miserable and fashionable, don’t print it. I suppose that makes me sound like a bit of a dinosaur, even a bit of a bitter dinosaur, and totally out of touch with modern poetry. Well, if that’s the case I won’t deny it.

And that is the real story of the week. Even a natural disaster can have a silver lining.

quercuscommunity

Life after the Care Farm