Tag Archives: plumbing

Failing to Fork Lightening, Again

I am feeling pleased with myself. I sent three poems off to a journal on Tuesday night and had one of them accepted this morning.

Cactus, Malta

Even better, the two that weren’t required can go elsewhere, which saves considerable effort.

I had to look at the punctuation again, as requested. I wasn’t sure whether the problem was an errant comma or something else so I checked it all, wondering if this was a test. I found two other possible errors – I hadn’t hyphenated the number thirty-one and I’d lazily put a hyphen where some editors prefer an em dash. A hyphen (-) requires hitting a key, an em dash (—) requires two hands – depressing the Alt key whilst typing 0151 on the numerical key pad. I should probably, in the name of precision, have used one where I stuck that hyphen in front of depressing.

CActus hedge Malta

And talking about depressing – I know that an en dash is the width of a capital N and an em dash is the width of a capital M. There is something very sad about a man who has spent 68 years getting to the point. I wanted to catch and sing the sun in flight, but I ended up knowing the difference between two sorts of dash and getting excited about taps (read on to find out about that, or fall into deep slumber as the tedium of my life washes over you).

Then I started looking at a comma with a view to making it into a full stop. At that point I decided that I was getting altogether too involved and thought about telling him I was an avant-garde surrealist poet in the mould of e. e. cummings.

Memento Mori

Then I started to wonder why cummings signed himself e. e. cummings instead of e e cummings, did he have a quibble with upper case letters but not punctuation?

He died when he was 67 which, since my last birthday, is something I have beaten him in. On the other hand, he wrote 2,900 poems. I’m not sure I’ll ever write 2,900 poems. Even if I do, it’s not a measure of quality.

We’ve had quite a lot of blustery rain today and a sharp hailstorm this morning. English hail isn’t generally too much of a problem as it’s quite small. However, it’s unusual in May.

Malta

We also had a handyman, which was a surprise. He had said he would fit us in for new kitchen taps as soon as he could, and he finished a job more quickly than he expected, so dropped in on us. It was a bit of a surprise as I was halfway through preparing lunch, but we now have a nice mixer tap with levers, which makes it a lot easier for me to work. The previous taps were a bit stiff and inconvenient for a man with arthritic fingers. It’s a tricky social situation as I was pleased to get the job done, but not pleased that lunch was interrupted.

Another day gone and a bright start ends with me quoting Thomas and talking of poetry and plumbing and punctuation when I should be writing.

Blue Lagoon

Pictures are from Julia’s May 2018 trip to Malta to visit No 1 son while he was working there. She went with No 2 Son while he was still living in UK. Now he is in Canada. Was it something I said?

A Miscellany of Mishaps

On Sunday we had a call from one of the neighbours in Nottingham – our overflow was pouring water out at the back of the house. This was mixed news. Obviously something was wrong, but equally obviously, it wasn’t a burst pipe, as that wouldn’t come out of the overflow. So we abandoned everything, including our carefully dovetailed plans for the rest of the week and shot up to Nottingham to sort out the overflow. The water is currently switched off and we are hoping that after a few days thawing the system will return to normal. (General opinion is that it’s a frozen ballcock. Time will tell.)

We returned to Peterborough that night then went back to Nottingham in the morning, collected a delivery, filled the car with stuff, ran the heating to warm everything up a bit, attended a meeting of the Numismatic Society and came home. The original plan to stay over seemed less attractive when faced with a cold, waterless house. Yes, it’s still cold despite the fired being on.

On Tuesday we stayed in Peterborough. Originally we were going to stay over in Nottingham and go for a meal with a friend, but see above remarks on cold house, no water etc.

Today, we went up, arrived at 10.30 and packed some stuff. I then went for a blood test, we visited the shop and then came home. Imagine my cheerful reaction when I had a call to tell me that the sample had been untestable and I would have to return tomorrow as a matter of urgency to have a retest. I’d been looking forward to some nice relaxing time with Julia, including a daytrip out. I hadn’t intended that trip to be to Nottingham. Again.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

 

Things That Worry Me

Number One – my teeth disintegrating. As you may know, I’m in for a tooth extraction tomorrow (despite the fact it’s barely twinged since I went to the dentist about it).

I have been thinking I was over-reacting, but last night it started aching again and I’m now very keen on having it removed. It’s been going on a while so it’s time to be decisive.

For the last few months I seem to have been finding a lot of chalky bits in my mouth. It’s worrying, particularly after I had one disintegrate a couple of years back.

I seem to spend a lot of the evening finding bits of chalk in my mouth, which is bad news, and has been occupying my thoughts far too much. However, I realised what it is a couple of days ago. It’s the chalky bits from the tablets I take every night.

Number Two – plumbing. The house’s plumbing, not mine. Mine is way down the list. In winter I always worry about the plumbing. We’ve been here 30 years, we’ve had a couple of plumbing problems, but nothing we can’t cope with. But I spend several weeks each year worrying about it. It’s a Christmas tradition.

 

 

As you can see from the black spot in the duck picture I’m using the old camera. I’ll explain why in a later post. The spot only shows when you use the zoom.

Number Three – cocking up Christmas. A month before Christmas Julia starts refusing to tell me what she wants as a present. Then, a week or two later, she hands me a wad of cash and tells me the whole Christmas holiday depends on me. Then, just as we reach the posting deadline for Amazon, she tells me what she wants.

I wake up at night sweating at the idea of disappointing Julia or failing to produce Christmas dinner.

It was quite relaxing spending last Christmas in Suffolk, though I did worry about the plumbing a lot while we were away.

A number of you are probably shouting “death” at the blog. This, I hope, is a comment on the fear of death, rather than a critical reaction to my blogging.

Well, to be honest, I’m not much afraid of death. At 60 I can still pretend it’s a long way off. Anyway, compared to the stress of Christmas, death isn’t that bad.

 

This afternoon, to avert the chance of a disappointed wife, I took a trip to Bakewell, where I visited an excellent jeweller, ate a hot turkey sandwich and was shown how to avoid paying 20 pence to use the toilet. I saw “shown” as I’m not admitting to anything…

I can show you the shop but as she reads the blog I can’t picture the things I bought. I may show them on Boxing Day. Prepare to be surprised by my lack of imagination.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It’s Christmas…

 

Home for 4.30.

The days can be short in winter…