Tag Archives: TV

3,333 Posts and a General Election

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This morning, when I saw how many posts I had written I was tempted to stop the blog and retire. I have, until I publish this one, a total of 3,333 finished WP posts in Quercus Community.  So soon after writing a 333 word blog this seems like a message from fate.

That message is probably “Stop being an idiot and obsessing about numbers” but you can never tell.

Julia has returned. I can tell an immediate difference as it now takes longer to select a menu. It’s cold, it’s been raining all day, we have a choice of pizza, pasties, quiche or vegetable stew. It can be accompanied by salad or potato wedges and beans or roasted veg. The clue is in the cold and wet – clearly we don’t want salad and gravy does not go with quiche or pizza. Already,  several combinations are not going to work. It’s quiche, pizza or pasties with wedges and beans, or it’s pasties with roast veg and gravy.

Young Nettles

Yesterday, the veg would already be sizzling in the pan. Today it took two attempts and nearly an hour before she finally decided. At this point I remember I have cauliflower and a bag of grated cheese, but decide not to mention it.

We’re also back to watching TV by committee. The Great British Sewing Bee is back for what looks like a lacklustre 10th Season. I didn’t watch it last night because I knew Julia would want to see it and I didn’t want to watch it twice, so we called it up on i-player. This was fortunate because it saved interminable discussions.

Oh, and they have called a General Election. I ought to mention that if I want this blog to be used in historical research by future PhD students. The morally dubious Conservatives look sure to get a drubbing from the  . . .

I’m not even sure how to describe Labour at the moment. They have the ball in hand and the line is in front of them. Will they cross the line to score, or will they fumble at the last minute?

I predict a landslide for the Labour Party, sweeping aside years of Tory misrule.

I predict a Tory resurrection, springing a last minute surprise on a Labour Party that is devoid or charisma and ideas.

I will edit that later. Just after the results are in . . .

At least these snouts are meant to be in a trough

So Much to Do, So Little Time

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Wooden Water Vole at Carsington

Woke up. Tested air temperature with tip of nose. Pulled three layers of duvet up around my face and went back to sleep. It is my final day of loafing, or recuperation, as I call it, and I see no advantage to getting up earlier than I have to.

Eventually I emerged, ate the beans on cheese on toast that Julia had prepared, ate the toast and marmalade she had made me for breakfast (the oranges are part of my five a day) and watched TV for a while.

It was Four in a Bed. After watching many episodes I can’t help wishing I had run a Bed & Breakfast instead of messing around as an antique dealer, gardener, pizza maker, shop assistant . . .

To be fair, it looks quite simple to run a B&B. Slightly more difficult to do it well, but isn’t that always the case?

Wooden Dragon at Carsington

I also wonder if we have finally run out of things to watch on TV if the best we have to offer is a programme on competitive hospitality. However, the best episodes are the ones which feature the human condition, such as the one today where one of the owners gave everyone a hard time, kept repeating that “the customer is always right” and repeatedly told us about his confidence and his high standards. Yes, you guessed it. His standards were not as high as he thought, anyone who criticised him was wrong and he eventually threw a hissy fit. I don’t like to see people being made unhappy. On the other hand, when they are the cause of their own unhappiness, it’s good TV. Shakespeare would have written it better, but the tragedy was there for all to see.

In truth, I spent too much time watching TV, and by the time I had rung the doctor to make a blood test appointment and book a COPD review, it was getting late. For those of you wondering when I got COPD, I’m not actually sure of that myself. It was mentioned as a cause of my problems, but until I had a text to book the review, I had no idea myself. I can’t wait until I get something serious and they let me know by sending me a link to the local hospice.

Then I had to arrange for the garage near the shop to supply a new tyre tomorrow. They are very good and will collect the car from the shop, do the job and return the car. Brilliant service for a man with a bad knee and a lazy disposition.

Finally, I rang for a taxi. It was a bit later than I had intended, but I still had time. Rang at 3.15, allow 10 minutes for a taxi, ten minutes for travel, ten minutes to walk from the entrance to X-Ray department – arrive five minutes before the appointment. It was probably better than my original plan of ringing at 3am, as they don’t want you cluttering the place up. Well, it would have been if the taxi firm had managed to send a taxi.

I’ve been using them for 30 years, since they were the local company. They have bigger offices now, a number of sign-written cars and a much more complicated phone system. If only the level of service was as good as it used to be.

Wooden Wizard and Dragon at Carsington

After 15 minutes I had an automated call to tell me they were doing their best. I rang to check what was happening and was told that they would be with me as soon as possible but the roads were crowded because it was “rush hour”. Well, it may get slightly busier, but unless you are on the ring road it’s not precisely a rush hour. And even if it was, it should hardly be a surprise.

Eventually, Just as I was preparing to ring the hospital, my car arrived.

I hate being late. I particularly hate being late when I allow  plenty of time for the trip.  The driver explained it was because of the amount of traffic. This would have been more convincing if there had been any traffic about.

Anyway, after a sit down in the waiting area, where I was able to view some interesting specimens of humanity, I had an X-Ray. That was interesting, as the radiologist bombarded me with questions about the amount of metal I may be wearing.

I took off my jacket (with zip), unhooked my glasses from the neck of my jumper, confirmed I had nothing in my pockets and that I didn’t wear jewellery, and heard her ask the next question . . .

Owl Sculpture – Harlow Carr

Did I have any underwear containing metal or underwiring?

Clearly they have some colourful characters going for X-Rays.

Pictures all contain the word “car” in the title. I was looking for cars to represent rush hour traffic. I clearly need a new system.

Owl Sculpture – Harlow Carr

A Day in my Head – from Silent TV to the Badgermin

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Fountains Sneinton Market 2015

It has passed into Monday now, but I am still on Sunday thinking.

I rose before Julia, but I’m still a little slow and she made it downstairs before I did, only to find that the TV, which has been playing up a bit recently, had no sound. I was looking at WP comments when she told me this, but even so, a feeling of dread enveloped me. Over the years I have come to rely on TV more and more for distraction.

I can spend hours on the computer, but with it being in the dining room it is a bit lonely and anti-social. I could, i know, balance it on my knee in the living room but I took a decision to stop doing that several years ago and do not regret it. I could also read, though I do find myself doing less of it. This is a worry, but I am sure it can be addressed in retirement by getting a big reading lamp. At the moment I am still feeling wiped out by the cough/chest infection which also makes me feel less like reading.

Fortunately we found the solution to the silent TV by searching online. Switch it off, unplug it, restart. It burst into action. I cannot think why it worked, but it did. Why is it that a TV that can bring me superb colour pictures from the air and from the internet, bombard me with far more information than I will ever need, and pause a film when I need a cup of tea, still needs to be switched of and on again. I never understood that with computers, but years ago I could see they needed the help. These days, with all the advances in science, why is it still necessary? And where does BBC1 and 2 go every night? For the last couple of months they have been disappearing. I keep hoping they will correct themselves but they don’t, so it looks like another internet search may be needed.

Fountains Sneinton Market 2015

Finally, after being stimulated by a Tootlepedal Blog to look up the composition of an orchestra I found mention of an Ondes Martenot.  It’s like a theremin, but apparently a lot better. Whether it’s better than a badgermin is a different question.

All I can say is that it’s not been a wasted day.

Photos are some archive shots from December 2015 in the days when Julia used to work at the Leisure Centre. Some may call them blurred – I prefer “abstract”.

Over the Hills and Far Away

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I’ve just been reading GP’s blog and saw this one. I’ve read one of his previous posts on the subject some years ago, and I always find it very uplifting. In a world where  the spirit of Christmas, and in fact any sort of good news, seems to be in short supply this is an important post and one that world leaders should read.

I like a lot of other blogs too, but I just don’t have the energy to read them at the moment. I’m getting old – three major infections in three months – it really is time to retire and relax. And that, until I am well, is going to be my final word on health. Even I am getting fed up of discussing it, so it must be worse to read about it second hand.

I watched several episodes of Sharpe today. There were more on, but two is enough, even for me. Julia did other things, but I knew she really wanted to watch something else. We ended up with Robin Hood Prince of Thieves. Saw the Sycamore Gap tree, wondered how such a bad film ever got made, pondered how several worse ones have been made subsequently . . .

There’s something universal about the story of Robin Hood and Sharpe that fits in well with human hopes, and thus with Christmas. It’s also a bitter-sweet experience as one of my friends, who I used to share a shop with, was the armourer on  couple of series and makes several appearances as a miscellaneous rifleman. Sadly, he is no longer with us, so it’s an additional lesson in the nature of mortality.

And that’s all for today. I am now going to consume a small meal of snacks – our Christmas tradition, but slightly watered down by my lack of appetite. I will then watch TV, complain about my health (Julia has not been granted a respite – just you)  and eat a large selection of pills. I’d prefer chocolate, but it seems pills are better for you.

Bah! 🙂

Tales of Senior Moments

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My shoulders and elbows were aching last night. I first thought it was my arthritis playing up, but it didn’t feel right. Then I decided that I was going down with something fluish, but I didn’t continue to decline so it wasn’t that either. After that I started to worry about RSI, but I couldn’t see what I’d done to bring it on. The obvious thing, which came to me this afternoon, is that yesterday I’d walked quite a distance (for me) and it was  down to my use of sticks. It’s bad enough being ill, without having to work out what it is.

Something amusing happened last night, though I didn’t tell you about it at the time. I was seeking to expand my education by watching a programme on the Sky Channel about Mark Rothko. At one point I became very confused when they were talking about his early life in Ireland. I ws sure he’d grown up in Oregon. After a few seconds I realised that I’d fallen asleep and missed the end of the Rothko programme, wakening part way through the following programme on Jack Yeats. He did have an early life in Ireland.

I’m falling asleep too much. I fell asleep during the talk at the Numismatic Society on Monday night, though only two people seem to have noticed. I was listening to the introduction to the Roman coin hoards of Britain, then next thing I knew, I was struggling to keep up as the speaker spoke of several concepts I hadn’t noticed earlier on. That, of course, was because I’d slept through them.

I really need to get a grip.

Robin Hood lurking in the Forest

Sunday Morning Turns to Night

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The Helmet Byron wore when liberating Greece. The legend is, I believe, bigger than the truth.

I would say “it’s early on Sunday morning” but it isn’t. It’s almost ten. Julia has heaped up the bedding to for a bulwark against the cold and is refusing to move and I have been pottering instead of doing anything useful. Let’s face it, I always potter or procrastinate or, possibly, putter. I had to use a Thesaurus for that last one as my supply of P words proved to be inadequate for the task in hand. I’ve also been Googling Australian writers in WW1 after a comment from Paolsoren. I actually know more about American writers in WW1 than I do about Australian ones, and that isn’t much.

I know that e e cummings and Hemingway served as ambulance drivers, that Alan Seeger served in the French Foreign Legion, Joyce Kilmer wrote a poem about a tree, and was a man, despite the name, and nothing much else.

And that, on a cold Sunday morning, is where I have ground to a halt. With little more than 150 words done from my modest target of 250 written, I have run out of things to say.

Time, I think, to make bacon cobs for breakfast. If bacon doesn’t do the trick I may have to admit that my brain has closed for winter. Talking of that, I am reminded that I have quite a few submissions to do in December. That’s always good for a few hundred words as, despite the evidence, I always worry that I might not be able to think of anything to write this time.

Water feature at Newstead Abbey.

But first, bacon . . .

And so the day passed . . .

Eventually, having put the vegetable stew on to cook, I have made it back to the keyboard. Quiz shows have come and gone, a second-rate film with Dick van Dyke and family has passed, time has flowed, or ebbed, depending on where you are standing and, as far as I know mighty empires have crumbled and fallen, though I suspect they might have announced it on TV if that had happened.

And then, bit by bit, I watch TV and make sandwiches for tomorrow and  waste time in a dozen different ways until it is time to finish this off and go to bed. And so a day that seemed to have so many possibilities has been frittered once again.

Picture from behind the waterfall at Newstead Abbey.

Pictures are from Julia’s visit to Narnia/Newstead Abbey yesterday.

Day of Little Progress

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The title doesn’t really narrow it down as most days are like that. I made breakfast cobs (bacon and tomato and bacon and black pudding for those of you interested in the opposite of fine dining), done a bit on WP and watched TV. I had to go for Prime in the end, as terrestrial TV is dire. It’s either garbage or repeats or football and Songs of Praise. I didn’t mind Sogs of Praise when it was in the evening, but it seems wrong when it’s on in the afternoon.

The film I watched was Renegades. It’s not a great film, but it’s a decent effort and has a great cast. The script is quite sharp and there is sufficient action, though if I’d been directing it I’d have put in more gunfire and explosions.

I then moved on to Decline and Fall. I like the book, though I probably haven’t read it for 20 years. I like the series too, though it’s a touch long-winded. I keep meaning to re-read Waugh, so this might actually get me doing it. First I need to get through my current book. It’s about the rise and fall of Rome, but I’m only just moving on to the Republic, so I have a long way to go yet.

I just looked up Waugh’s books on Kindle. I will probably join a library. I’m not paying £5.99 for a book that doesn’t physically exist and which, as I understand it, I don’t actually own.  I don’t mind paying decent money for reference books and newly written books (authors need some sort of encouragement) but I don’t see why Waugh’s literary estate needs to milk it quite so much.

After that I made soup. Red Pepper, Bean and Tomato soup. It will be good for lunch for the next week. I may take a photo this time.

Things to do when I retire –

  1. Join Library.
  2. ?

  3. Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Holiday Day 3

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The holiday progresses and the title becomes ever more ironic as I fail to notice I am on holiday.

Today I rise just before the alarm, spend some time sitting on the bed staring into space (it was not a restful night) and scurry about getting ready for taking Julia to work. She has made breakfast and I eat whilst watching Shappi Khorsandi on the news. She has now added neurodiversity to her portfolio of subjects.

By coincidence, I was reading about adult ADHD a few days ago. It seems to be the latest fashionable condition. I have most of the symptoms, but seem to have missed out on the hyperactivity. I also, as you may recall, have most of the symptoms of Long Covid. And autism. I also have trouble with numbers when they are in long lists or balance sheets. They waver about and I find myself looking into a void of untrustworthy, moving numbers. I could probably make a case for having some sort of condition there. It’s not Dyscalculia because I can cope with calculations, I just panic when faced with balance sheets and other lists of numbers, including things like lists of key dates for coins. This is a disadvantage when you work in a coin shop.

I also, to be honest, exhibit many signs of cyberchondria.

Drawing back to boring reality for a moment, I was going to tell you that I took Julia to work, rediscovered my ability to navigate round Nottingham (which I lost during lockdown) and arrived back home at 8.58. Loss of navigational skills is, by the way, an early sign of dementia.

I then sat down at the computer, read and answered comments and at 9.15 started to write. BY 9.42 I was well underway with a massive digression about mental health (I’d meant this to be a blow by blow account of my morning) when there was a knock on the door. It was my delivery from yesterday.

My conclusion, when considering the subject of mental health conditions is that we all have plenty of symptoms but we don’t need to get a diagnosis unless we want to write a book about it and drum up some sales.

It’s 9.58 now and I have blogged, digressed and opened a parcel to find it contains the correct order. That will do for now, as I have a list of things to do and am about to do more of them.

To select photographs I searched for “tree” and picked a couple out.

Drowned Tree at Clumber Park

Coronation Tradition

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My grandfather built his own TV for the coronation, a story which I have told before, and they all sat round with neighbours to watch the seven inch screen. It was therefore, with a fine sense of tradition that I sat down and watched the Coronation on TV. Not quite all of it. I missed a bit at the beginning. And a bit while I made brunch. After that I watched more, napped for a little, made afternoon tea (including Coronation Chicken sandwiches), was shouted at for snoring and eventually saw the Royal Family on the balcony. I didn’t actually want to watch the ceremony, I just like the medals and uniforms. I like to say that as the shop’s medal expert I need to keep up with these things, but really I’m just a small boy trapped in a crumbling body.

This is good tradition.

My father, who was still the Royal Navy in 1953, stationed at Chatham, lined the Coronation route. It rained and he got wet. I briefly thought of him, but confess that I felt no need to follow in his footsteps. I’m sure King Charles will do fine without the presence of a wet Wilson by the side of the road.

All in all it’s a day to relish tradition. Everyone is keen to tell us how out of date and second class we are as a nation, but for just one day it would have been nice to sit back, be traditional, ignore the bits I didn’t like and relax. However, I wasn’t allowed to, as a lot of the comments from one of the BBC team, a history expert, hinged on how times were changing, always tinged with reproach. This is how life is these days, no matter what you do, somebody always wants to criticise.

I don’t have a picture suitable for a coronation, but let’s face it, nothing says celebration like a nice piece of cake. I used Battenberg in the top picture because it has a link to Royalty.

Sticky Toffee Cake

A Sucessful Day of Procrastination

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I have all the copies I think I need (though the solicitor will doubtless disagree) for Number One Son, and have successfully not filled in any forms today. I know this isn’t really the attitude, but I’ve always taken the attitude that in these things it is easier to reduce the target rather than work harder. It’s n attitude that hasn’t always won favour with other people, but it works for me.

My excuse is that I had a disturbed night’s sleep and rose early to write poetry so had no time for forms and such stuff. In fact I rose at 7.30, worked till 9.30 (a variety of time-wasting exercises) and made breakfast when Julia came down.

At that point we watched TV, did the washing, had afternoon tea and, in my case, napped. We watched The Hippopotamus, which was adequately funny and had enough mystery in it to keep me involved. It’s originally a novel by Stephen Fry and is a sort of cross between Withnail & I and Gosford Park.

After that I made  a simple meal of pizza, using ready made bases, and that was really the end of the day. I have done a bit on WP and |Julia made the sandwiches for tomorrow. I didn’t ask what she filled them with and look forward to a surprise tomorrow.. We ended up watching a programme about celebrities in he dark and had hot chocolate.

As usual, I say “celebrities” but I don’t have a clue who three of them are.This could be due to  my lack of celebrity knowledge, or it could be down to them not really being celebrities. The best one in there is Chris McCausland, not only is his career buoyant, but he’s blind, so he’s at home in the dark. I like him I find him funny and I find it poignant that he’s looking after the others. But I don’t think tht even he will persuade me to watch any more of the programme.

And that was my Sunday.