Tag Archives: neighbours

A Corvid Sort of Day – I Said Corvid . . .

Today I spent a lot of time staring out of the window of my office. It’s really just a spare bedroom with a table and computer, but “office” sounds better. I don’t know how builders get away with calling these rooms bedrooms – I don’t even need to extend my arms fully to touch both sides. It’s a single monastic cell of a room, somewhere to put an unwelcome visitor who will be happy to leave after a couple of nights of claustrophobia.

It looks out onto a cheerless narrow strip of garden, with a fence that needs painting. The neighbour was nailing new roof felt onto a small garden store he has crammed between his garage and the fence. It was alarming to see a head pop up over the fence,a nd socially awkward. We haven’t introduced ourselves yet and we both avoided looking at each other. I doubt it will happen again, but may adjust my blind to make myself less visible.

Magpie

Anyway, before that happened, I had ten minutes watching a magpie on his garage roof. It appeared to be sorting through moss looking for food. I must look it up and see if anyone else has seen this. I’m surprised there is anything in the moss, to be honest. I’m also a little offended that we have plenty fo bird food and it wasn’t even making an attempt to eat it. They don’t even seem to want to explore the possibilities of the floor feeder, which has included old scone, apple cores, seeds and suet over the last few days.

The squirrel, meanwhile, has been up to all sorts of trick to raid the seeds. It has eaten from the floor feeder, making us hope it will leave the seeds alone, but it always seems to try for the seeds again.

Julia saw a Jay in nearby trees yesterday. I like Jays. Before Mum and Dad moved to this bungalow they had a house a couple of miles away and had as many as three Jays feeding in the garden at one time. We actually turned up to do the RSPB Bird Count one weekend and found three Jays in the garden. (We used to do the count in their garden as they got better birds than we did. We nearly had a sparrowhawk one year, but it perched next door and refused to come to our garden so Julia wouldn’t let me count it.

My bird photography still needs work, so these are pictures I have used before.

A mischief of Magpies

Change is Easy, Improvement is Hard

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We had vegetable soup last night. Those of you who are familiar with my methods won’t be surprised by this, as we had vegetable stew the night before. The difference is a couple of minutes with a hand blender. As usual, I got the quantities slightly wrong and it looks like we will be having soup for lunch too. However, there are worse things.

Biscuits – slightly overcooked and slightly too festive for my tastes

The snow is still here, as are the low temperatures. I am sitting here typing in multiple layers of clothing, wishing I’d made a different choice of home thirty six years ago. It was only ever meant to be a temporary stop on the housing ladder, but somehow it became permanent. We could, I admit, have found better built houses with more facilities in better areas, but it was hard to find one that improved in all areas, and which had decent schools, good transport links and good local shops.

That’s life, I suppose. It was too good to improve on and not good enough to feel settled.

Grantham Gingerbread

It’s a bit like the new place. The house is better, the heating and garden are great improvements, but it can be busy and noisy when the steam railway or parkrun is on, the chip shop is not as good and, in general, the local facilities aren’t quite as good. Plus the neighbours are a bit posh. Some of them have electric BMWs and a number of the women look like they need regular maintenance from nail bars and bleach bottles. I expect that we will become known as the odd couple at the end of the row. My ten year old VW with the bent wing and odd mirror is already quite distinctive amongst the shiny new cars on the rest of the street.

However, even if I won the lottery I wouldn’t change. I’d add an extension to the bungalow so we could access the garage without going outside and I’d probably have the wing fixed on the VW, but apart from that I have everything I need. You’d never believe that I used to be hard-working and ambitious, would you?

Gingerbread Men

When I move I am going to start baking again.

Of Keys and Cans and Walking Sticks and Cabbages and Kings

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Fishermen on the beach at Huttoft

This morning I thought of a good title for today’s post. In the afternoon, I thought of an even better one. Of course, by the time I thought about writing, both of them had faded away.

It has been a day when I have had to face up to my age. I hadn’t realised I was going to be doing that in my 60s, it seemed more like an activity for my 70s and 80s. It just goes to show how much I didn’t realise about my future.

Looking back, it started yesterday. Julia remarked that I looked down, and I asked her what I had to be happy about. Then something else happened. I can remember that something else happened, I just can’t remember what it was. it may come back to me.

Fishing in the Trent

Then today I had a knock on the door. It was one of the neighbours telling me someone had run into my car and knocked the door mirror off. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded – it’s the shroud and repeater that have been knocked off. The rest of it is still OK. I know this because it’s exactly the same damage that was done when a bus clipped me in traffic. It comes under the value of the Policy Excess for the insurance and, last time, cost £90. It will be more this time, I’m sure.

Fortunately, they had stopped and left details with the neighbour and, as they only live down the street I was able to walk down and agree what was going to happen.

\then I walked back. Whilst doing so, I met the man who lives on the corner. He was out with his walker. It is one of those contraptions with a frame, four wheels, a seat and brakes. Difficult to describe, but you have probably seen them around. He used to have sticks. Time, as we agreed, has not been kind to us.

Fishing opposite the County Council offices

When I got home I found the mortice lock was jammed and I couldn’t unlock it. I tried all sorts of things, pushing and pulling the door, turning the key both ways – nothing worked. So I ran through a list fo options in my head.

Suddenly the clouds parted, a sunbeam shone forth and I had an idea. (the aforementioned clouds and sunbeams are metaphorical, by the way, there was no actual divine intervention). When I had left I had been in a hurry. So I unlocked the Yale, and the door opened. The reason I couldn’t unlock the mortice lock was because it was not locked. Another one for the growing list of senior moments.

I just stopped to put the evening meal in the oven. Sausages, in case you were wondering – we’re having an unimaginative, low quality cooking regime cookery regime at the moment – I’m just not enthused by the idea of cooking.

Haddock Special at the Fishpan, Scarborough

While I was doing that, my brain was clearly catching up. The “something else” that happened was making Julia’s sandwiches. I decided on tuna mayonnaise, which includes, black pepper, chopped green tops of spring onions (scallions) and lemon juice. Unfortunately I’d dropped a stack of tuna tins a few weeks ago (I buy them in the wrapped columns of four) and the weight of the falling stack had bent the top tin. The can opener won’t work on bent rims. It’s a poor opener, but it has outlasted all the supposedly better ones, which seem to fall apart. So I used a knife. But my grip is not what it used to be and the can resisted. So I employed a screwdriver. Eventually, in a process which owed nothing to common sense, I managed to get half the top folded back and spooned the tuna out.

It is very depressing when a tin can appears to be more intelligent, and stronger, than I am. Is it any wonder I am depressed?

Then I remembered the good title for the post. It wasn’t that good second time round. I still can’t remember the better one. I’m going to try to think of another one.

Ah, I have an idea.

Tin Kingfisher

A Bad Start . . .

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Today started badly when I woke up at 4.30 am in my chair. Normally Julia wakes, realises I am not in bed and wakes me up. Today she slept. It could have been worse, at least I was generally fit and well, and the fire was on so I was warm. I was, in fact, warmer than I had been for much of the evening.

Later, after almost three hours in bed we had a milkless breakfast, due to our inability to buy milk on the way back from work, we walked out to find the remains of a McDonalds spread across the road. We have had problems with this before. A few months ago we had a run of littering that followed the same pattern. It’s always at the same point in the road, give or take a few yards and it always involves paper bags, lettuce and pots of sauce. It also involves all our other neighbours ignoring the mess, even though it is actually in front of their house, not ours. Experience shows that if we don’t move it, it will spread all over the road as cars drive over it, so it’s easier just to clear it.

Could things get worse? Surprisingly, they didn’t seem to. My car went into the garage today and, for instance, only needed one new tyre rather than the expected two. And while they were doing that they checked the others and found a nail in one, so they repaired the hole. As we will be driving several hundred miles tomorrow, this is a good thing to find. All in all, I am chalking this up as a day that ended well, despite n unpromising start.

The pictures – just random, I’m afraid.

The other Nelson’s Column, the one in Lowestoft.

Day 72

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As the sky changed to twilight and the day turned to the time known as “Sunday evening” my neighbours seemed to wake up and realise they still had time to ruin the day. One, who had spent a couple of hours in the afternoon perfecting his car door slamming technique, decided that he really needed to cut some wood with an electric saw, and one just down the hill decided that what we really needed was a ten minute barrage of fireworks. They weren’t particularly interesting fireworks, but they were noisy and obtrusive.I’m not sure what he was celebrating, but assuming that his intention was to disturb and annoy, he succeeded.

At one time Sunday evening was a quiet time where adults prepared for work and children went to bed with dire thoughts of school in their minds. Now it appears to be a peak time for making pointless noise.

The cut-off time between Sunday afternoon (when we were expected to dress in our “Sunday best”) and the dreaded evening was “Songs of Praise“. It used to be broadcast after 6pm, but has steadily moved earlier and earlier. I had noticed it was on in the afternoon but when I check up I find it is now at lunchtime. All the old certainties are being swept away. It’s difficult to have confidence in a world where we have “Songs of Praise” at lunchtime and fireworks in March. Fireworks used to be strictly for 5th November, but now they are spread throughout the year. Either celebrating the burning of Catholics is becoming more popular, or more old traditions are being swept away.

I’m glad, to be honest, to see the back of “Sunday best”. It was very frustrating to sit inside being quiet and tidy when there were fields outside and mischief being left undone.

However, it could be worse. I know of streets where the neighbours are far noisier, and if we were in the Ukraine it wouldn’t be fireworks that disturbed my evening.

It’ a 29 hour drive to Kiev. Just 1,693 miles by road. That’s like driving from Land’s End to John o’ Groats and back again, or the same as Boston to Oklahoma City in the USA. Imagine what would happen if Texas invaded Oklahoma.

It sounds quite close, doesn’t it?

In the Depths

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I’m waiting for a phone call. When I was in Leeds earlier today I swung one leg out of the car after parking, the car rolled forward and, before I could get my leg back in to use the brake, I’d hit the car in front. I left a note under the windscreen and am currently waiting for a call. I’m not sure if I’ve done any damage – there was nothing obvious – but you can’t be sure. I have three areas of damage on my car where people have hit me (twice in car parks and once at a roundabout) and just driven off. It always annoys me to see them, thinking that someone has done that and driven off. That’s why I left the note, though I could do without the hassle.

I’m also about to embark on a major argument with one of the neighbours. I won’t bore you with the details, but the day my dad died I got a letter pushed through the door. Since then I’ve being trying to solve the problem, avoid arguments and bring it all to a conclusion. I have enough other stuff to do at the moment so wanted to settle as quickly as possible. They keep wanting more and I’ve reached a point where I’m going to have to say enough is enough. Tomorrow I’m expecting the fireworks to start. It’s cheaper to give way rather than go to court, but they are trying to make me take joint responsibility for a dodgy supporting wall in their garden and that could be a problem for years to come.

Then there are the neighbours on the east side, who are encroaching on the boundary. I have to sort that out before it becomes a problem, though I don’t like making a fuss.

Meanwhile, the rear chimney stack needs attention as it’s starting to look a bit rickety. That won’t be cheap as it never is when a man goes up a ladder.

The re-wiring still needs doing, and the decluttering is progressing slowly.

We are now finishing disposing of Dad’s possessions, which is a sad time. I remember reading a poem about the tyranny of heirlooms. So many items hold great memories, and, as we don’t live in a grand country house. I can’t keep them all but It is so difficult letting go.

And that is why I feel like I’m standing in a pit.

Sorry to be so negative, but sometimes, if you set out to give an honest appraisal of your day, there will be days like this.

I used the butterfly photo as a reminder that there are good days too.

The Fruit Exchange

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We gave one of the neighbours a bowl of plums the other day. I thought Julia was being a bit generous with the size of the bowl, as I like plums, but let’s face it, they go bad easily so it’s better to give them away than see them rot.

Today we had a knock on the door and were given a bowl of figs and two sizeable squash. Fair exchange, as they say, is no robbery.

Figs – Brown Turkey

They look a bit green, but they are beautifully ripe – I’ve already had one to check. Some of the plums are perfect and some still a little sharp, but it’s better, I feel to pick at this point. One year we left them a bit late and a lot went brown and mouldy overnight. Some years, because of poor management, the tree fails to produce, but although it’s disappointing it’s not as bad as wasting the crop.

Our cherry tree, as I may have remarked before, was picked clean by birds most years so I simply took it out, which gave more room for the plum and the rhubarb.

Julia tells me that the container grown damson tree is almost ready to pick, though the harvest will only be eight fruits.

The final photograph is plums in a steel bowl. It’s difficult photographing fruit. They may sit still, but there’s not much of interest about them so when I got the chance to use the reflections I gave it a go.

Reflected Plums – Victoria

The problem was that as I took pictures I ate plums and by the end of the shoot there were significantly fewer plums in the photographs.

I’ve been thinking about my retirement and if I really need a garden or should buy a flat instead. A flat would mean no garden and less work, but a bungalow would mean space to sit outside and would make me take exercise, which I really should have. And I could plant fruit trees.

There are various proverbs and quotes on this subject, but it is now time for me to plant trees even though I may not live to sit in their shade.

Getting Better

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

This isn’t the post I said I was going to write, you’ll have to wait for that. This is the post that covers what I did today after posting the previous post and making breakfast.

We had people in on Monday to dismantle the sheds and associated ivy/brambles/honeysuckle at the back of the garden. It has been a great aid to security, privacy and wildlife over the last thirty years, including highlights such as the fox cubs and breeding blackcaps. There’s never a year goes by without at least one nest in it and this year it is great tits. It’s difficult getting anyone at the moment as everyone wants work doing after lockdown and it’s two or three weeks before they can get back to finish off. This fits in well with the great tit family which should be fledged and away by the time we destroy their habitat.

When it’s all done I’m going to plant a mixed hawthorn and blackthorn hedge, which should provide a good habitat over the coming years.

For the moment it’s left a bit of a hole in the fence and though we’ve plugged it, it isn’t very elegant. As the house is home to a curious beagle I was going to make a better job of it today, so after breakfast I set off. I’ve just been told to increase my dose of Methatrexate to the maximum level. It seems to be working as I have use of my hands and my feet are a lot better too. However, it does mean that I worry about the effect of suppressing my immune system.

When I got to my first call in search of stout stakes and chicken wire I was presented with a queue of people which was positively festering in a shopping centre with the micro-climate of a tropical butterfly house. To be honest, it’s just the atmosphere a virus needs to spread, so I left.

The next shop I tried had a longish queue and I tried two builder’s merchants too. The queue at one of them contained more people than I’d ever seen in the shop before (I used to be in regularly when I was a jobbing gardener and it rarely had more than six people in. There were 18 in the queue. All these queues were outdoors, but after my activity on Monday when we took the shed down my knee is still a bit tender and doesn’t respond well to a lot of standing.

Water Lily

Before returning home I went to Aldi where the usual bunch of idiots managed to get into my social exclusion zone, including one of the managers who entered via the exit as I was leaving and was so close I could feel their slipstream. I bought ripe avocados, which were made an excellent lunch.

After that I emailed the lady behind us to say I’d be a day or two later than planned with the fence, clipped the front hedge (I said my hands were better – I couldn’t have done this two weeks ago) and dead headed the poppies.

I tried to order the posts and wire I wanted online but, just like a supermarket, they take the order and then, as you pay, tell you that two items are out of stock. I was only ordering three items, so I wasn’t impressed.

I had to take Julia to hospital for a scan as a follow-up to the pre-lockdown episode and, when I returned there were two emails and a brown envelope for me (marked as being from the Tax Office).

The news is that the lady behind us has offered to do the patching of the fence, which will save me a lot of hassle because I’m working Thursday, Friday and Saturday. They could find no immediate fault with Julia, though they may find fault later after properly examining the results. The Tax Office want to give me £16 back, as I have over-paid.

This is all good, and a welcome lifting of the gloom that has been gathering around me over the last few months.

The second email was from a local literacy project (I emailed them last night to make sure I actually volunteered instead of just intending to volunteer, as I so often do). They aren’t doing much at the moment, but will be in touch when they are ready for more interviews and training.

Then, just to settle myself down after all this happiness, I spent an hour on the computer arranging tomorrow’s grocery delivery. This is an improvement on last week when I actually forgot to do it. Fortunately we had plenty in to last an extra week.

Only a few repeated photos, I have no new photos to share.

Garden Flowers

Lockdown Trivia

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Just a few things that may escape future historians.

We lost our first potato yesterday. Julia put her hand in the bag and winced as she found a rather squashy potato. This is not good, as I have just been saying that we have avoided food waste. I don’t like waste, and I particularly don’t like waste when I’ve just been telling people how well I’m handling the situation.

Shortly after that I spotted mould on the sliced loaf we are using. That’s the problem with buying bread and trying to eke it out for a week. You either end up with dry bread or mouldy bread. I will take the affected slice out and hope that Julia doesn’t spot it.

We will now use the loaf from the freezer and replace it on Wednesday.

We are doing the best we can, only going out once a week or ten days for food. Unfortunately, the doctor and pharmacist call us out, even though we’d rather not go. The neighbours aren’t trying quite so hard.

Tulips at Harlow Carr

One set is particularly annoying. They had a friend round two days ago to help with some work in the garden, and then they had family round yesterday.

It’s difficult not going out, and time-consuming to plan our eating so that we only shop every week or ten days, but we are doing it. We don’t want to be responsible for infecting anyone or over-loading the NHS and, despite feeling indestructible most of the time, I don’t want anyone to give it to me. I don’t mind having it, but I’d prefer to wait until it becomes less crowded in hospital.

I could ring the police, or use the on-line form the police are now using, but I don’t really want to go down that route. It’s bad enough being in the middle of a lockdown without having the additional burden of becoming a police informer.

Mencap Garden in Spring

Three weeks ago we were advised against travel, two weeks ago we were locked down and this week I’m having to wrestle with the concept of reporting my neighbours for having family round for Easter. It’s like something out of the old Communist Bloc.

A few hours ago I watched news footage of mass graves in New York. It feels like watching something from the Great Plague rather than something I’m living through. I’m hoping, that all the bloggers I know over there will stay safe. I don’t think I know any from Kansas, but if I did I’d be really worried, as the State Governor is going to court to stop the State Legislature overturning her decision on limiting church services over Easter.

I thought our politicians were bad, but this is descending to a new level. If the Pope and the Archbishop of Canterbury are happy to stream their Easter services from empty churches, I don’t see why it isn’t good enough for Kansas.

The pictures are, again, a selection from the last year. For my next selection I may feature a few photographs with crowds in them – don’t worry, they will be historic crowds rather than current ones.

Thistles at Bangor

Deflation, Doom and Disappointment

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I was feeling quite buoyant when I returned home.

The morning had been mildly challenging. One customer wrote a note with his order asking us to pack his parcel properly. I wanted to write and thank him for his advice, finishing with the words “…because it had never occurred to me to pack the parcel properly.” However, shop policy dictates that they never let me use my first idea for a reply.

Two customers wrote in with “offers” of approximately half our asking price. I wasn’t allowed to write to them either.

Another, who is from overseas, wrote a note in English words, but used in an order which conceals the actual meaning. You have to admire his bravery in using a foreign language, and the originality with which he uses it. We think he’s asking for a discount. They are always asking for a discount.

And then we have a case of theft – an envelope of coins was delivered with a slit in the side and a complete lack of coins. It’s insured, but it has already taken over an hour of emails and insurance claims, and is going to take more time before it is all settled.

Eventually I arrived home and went to see the couple next door. They have concerns about our conifer and I have arranged to have it topped before the nesting season starts. Tomorrow it will, at what sees great expense, be shortened by about 12 feet.

This leaves the lower half to act as a windbreak and wildlife habitat.

As I left, after letting them know the plane they asked “Have you thought of taking it down completely?”

As it happens, I have. There are many reasons I’m just having the top taken out. It acts as a windbreak for my garage, and partly for the house. It is a great wildlife habitat and we usually have pigeons nesting in it. It is one of the last mature trees left round the area as all the neighbours have taken their trees down (I may return to that subject later). It’s cheaper. I can’t think what to replace it with. And, finally, it’s my bloody tree and I can do what I like with it.

People seem to hate trees in gardens these days.

Apparently it casts a lot of shade over their garden. Well, when they bought the house a few years ago it was just as big and just as shady.

I’m very disappointed in them. There are a lot of reasons, as I explained, leading to me wanting to keep the tree. And they kept repeating that it cast a lot of shade and they would be prepared to help with the cost.

They might be prepared to help with the cost of cutting it down, but what about the cost to the local wildlife?

I am now downcast, deflated and disappointed.

Daffodils

quercuscommunity

Life after the Care Farm