Tag Archives: telephone calls

Telephone Calls and Other Stories

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The river Wye at Bakewell

Sorry, I took my eye off the ball again. Not only have I missed a couple of days posting but I have realised I have stopped writing poetry again.

About 20 years ago, after having a dozen poems published, I went into hospital, came out of hospital, tried continuing my poetry writing and found I couldn’t do it. I seem to have done it again. After struggling through Covid, a urinary infection and whooping cough, I go into hospital again and when I emerge, I find my urge to write poetry and be creative has gone. I didn’t notice at first but this morning it suddenly dawned on me.

The river Wye at Bakewell

I wonder if there is a causal link between having surgical instruments inserted through an inconvenient orifice and the poetic bits of my brain shutting down. There is certainly a correlation between the insertions and the bits of brain that deal with embarrassment shutting down.  If they didn’t, I’d be a gibbering wreck by now.

Last time, I had the kids to replace my writing, as they needed a lot of driving to rugby matches and I ended up managing teams and writing match reports. This time, I am sure I could substitute blogging and Facebook posts for the Numismatic Society  of Nottinghamshire, but I intend trying to get my enthusiasm back.

First I need to sort my health out. To that end I spent nearly two hours on the phone this afternoon trying to sort things out. One of the phone calls took me just over half an hour – 25 minutes being told I was in “Queue position Number Two”, two minutes in position Number One and five minutes establishing that what should have been done two weeks ago had not been done. It will, they assure me, now be done as a matter of urgency.

River Nene, Fotheringhay

If you ever have to deal with what is now known as the Bowel and Bladder Service in Nottingham, you have my sympathy.

They used to be known as the Continence Service.

I’m sure that there ae other words that could be used, which carry neither the stigma of incontinence or the suggestion that you are now entering the final, downhill, stage of your life.

However, the name isn’t the worst thing about the service. In an unfortunate double use of the same word, it’s the service that is the worst thing about the service.

Two weeks ago I rang them about obtaining extra night bags. Their phone system cut me off automatically, as reported, and then wouldn’t let me back in the queue. I eventually obtained the bags from the urology ward.

Sandsend – river and bridge

Today I needed to find out what was happening to what I will euphemistically refer to as “my supplies”. I rang several places in search of sense before being advised to ring the continence service. With a heavy heart, I did.

They answered on the third ring and I was, frankly, amazed. It didn’t last. It seems that the Continence Service based at Sherwood Rise Medical Centre isn’t the Continence Service at Sherwood etc isn’t the same Continence Service that I used to be registered with, and who supplied me for years.

The Continence Service (etc) is only for patients registered with the county of Nottinghamshire. I’m with the City of Nottingham, it seems, and have to ring another number.

So I did.

See the comments above on the half hour phone call.

All it needed two weeks ago was for one nurse to fill out one form. I’m not sure that it even needed a nurse – I could probably have done it myself if they had pointed me to the form.

More pictures of water. Enough said.

Ducks on the River Alde, Snape

After the Bank Holiday

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I’ve had a number of ideas about subject matter during the course of the day, and as I only need one or two ideas to fill my quota this post should be positively filled to the brim with words. They should be frothing over the top and running down the sides . . .

You can see what’s coming, can’t you? As soon as I look at that blank screen I lose all capacity to write. The same thing is now spreading to the kitchen. I feel hungry, but as soon as I open the fridge my ability to weave diverse wrinkly veg and surly-looking leftovers into a meal deserts me.

Hobbit Stamp

However, I will resist temptation to fulminate on the indignity of writers’ block and the related culinary problem. I may, on the other hand, talk about customers.

At 10.00 this morning, a customer rang. At 10.05 one walked into the shop. This established a pattern that carried on through the day. It took until 14.50 until we were able to finish all the parcels and get across to the post office. One brought in a handful of coins, all modern and circulated, and in two cases with other faults too (one with chemical stains and one with verdigris) having read the paper and convinced himself we would pay over £1,000 for them. One came in even though he knows he has to make an appointment as he always takes so much time. One made an appointment for Thursday then turned up today. Others came to sell, and all went away happy.

Mallard stamp

The telephone callers were mainly sensible today, though prolific and timewasting, but several on eBay were definitely contenders for an award. One of them wrote to say that he had ordered the items as discussed last week and looked forward to getting is postage refund. Unfortunately he hasn’t actually ordered anything. The man who asked if we would accept £50 for an un-named item still hasn’t answered my question asking which item he is talking about. There are others. There are always others . . .

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 7

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Not much to pack this morning but the owner’s promotional efforts yesterday produced a couple more sales. Two extra sales on a day that only produced four sales is 50%, so it was worth doing. We actually had three sales in the afternoon, so the day didn’t finish too badly. In terms of footfall, which is why we have a shop instead of working from an industrial unit, we had four people who came to sell, two who came to buy and two who came to irritate us.

On the phone we had several useful calls and one from a man when we had three people in the shop (and only two serving). He had a 1995 £2 coin, which, he said, is made of solid gold. That was one of the single-metal £2 coins we used to have. They weren’t really made for circulation so people aren’t familiar with the, They commemorate things like the Bill of Rights (1689) (or Claim of Right (1689) for those of you in Scotland, the Commonwealth games and the end of WW2.

It was this WW2 commemorative coin that the enquirer had. He knew it was gold because it was yellow, shiny and, when he scratched it , it was still yellow and shiny in the scratch. Unfortunately, as my colleague explained, these things are true of the base metal variety, which is made of nickel-brass and is therefore yellow and shiny all the way through. The caller wouldn’t take his advice and my colleague, being a nice man, kept answering questions even though we had more pressing matters in hand. The gold version should have a box and paperwork with it. The Royal Mint is currently out of stock but values a gold one at £1,180.

So to sum up – the ordinary nickel-brass one is valued at a maximum of £10 by Numista, the collecting site. There were over 6,000,000 minted. The gold one came in a box, with papers, there were just £1,000 minted and, as a rule, you are unlikely to be given one by someone you know in the pub.

However, he wouldn’t be told and insisted that his was gold (because it looks just like the gold one on the internet), before asking how to test it and whether we would test it, and, as we wouldn’t, who would test it. I don’t mind people asking for advice, because we are specialists and we are happy to share what we know, and it’s nice when people go away happy and better informed. It’s also good when people just go away. Hanging on the phone arguing and citing the idiotnet as their source, that’s not so good.

Eventually my colleague told him to try the gold-buying stall in the market. They always send their idiots to us, so it seemed only fair to repay the compliment.

Other stuff did happen, but this is a ten minute slice of the day that sticks in my mind.

Bits and Pieces and Fishing in the Spam Folder

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It’s 10.39 and my day is about to begin. So far all I have done is the basics – dressed, had breakfast, answered comments, finalised tomorrow’s on-line grocery order and had a telephone consultation with rheumatology . It’s our day off today, though  most days are a day off for me at the moment,  so It’s now time to think about elevenses.

There’s something companionable about elevenses. Reading the link I was also reminded about second breakfast. We used to have second breakfast when I worked in Ireland – cup of tea and slice of toast at 6.30ish, work at seven, breakfast at 9.00. It’s much more civilised and it always feels better on the digestion.

From there I start wondering why toast seems like a meal but a slice of bread and butter doesn’t. I wonder when the change occurred. My grandparents ate bread and butter, my parents ate toast. I suspect that the invention of domestic grills and toasters holds the answer, as toast at my grandparents was usually preceded by a session with bread and toasting forks in front of an open fire.

Julia is approaching me with a hoover in her hand and menace in her eyes so I had better get the elevenses going. Music may have charms to soothe the savage beast, but tea and biscuits works better on Julia.

I now have a problem to ask you about. Derrick tells me that he has to give his details before he can post a comment. Is this happening to anyone else? And do you know how I can cancel it, as I hate it when that happens and I want to keep everything simple and easy.

Apologies to LA and GP Cox too, when I started looking through my settings I found several of your comments in Spam. It seems to select someone every so often and dump them in there on a slightly random basis as some have been allowed and some haven’t.