Tag Archives: typing

How many Senior Moments can a man have?

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Looks like butter wouldn’t melt in its mouth

We had the Blackcap back again. The photos are different, as it’s on the seed feeder. They are, however, no improvement quality-wise. Anyway, that’s enough about Blackcaps, let’s talk about my new splint.

Blackcap again. Different feeder, same poor photo quality.

After self-diagnosing my wrist problem as carpal tunnel syndrome I ordered a splint from Amazon, It arrived today. It’s adjustable, it has velcro straps and a metal plate to hold the wrist in the right position. It’s a lot more comfortable than the tubular bandage I had been using for the last few days and, to be honest, much more impressive. It really looks like I have a serious injury instead of a sore wrist. The best bit, though, is the fact it doesn’t peel back as easily as the bandage, so I can’t roll it out of the way for washing up.

I did offer to remove it completely but Julia insists I keep it on, and she will do the washing up.

So my hand is less painful and I don’t have to do the washing up. It is the classic win-win situatio situation.

If I remove that arm with the hanging fat feeder it will be more difficult to gat to the seed

 

However, there is a cloud on the horizon – I’ve been having intermittent computer problems. New pages kept opening and I lost pages I was working on (though I found them all eventually). As I pondered on the problem it occurred to me that it always happened when I used the “t” key. Then it occurred to me that it might be something to do with the new splint and the “Ctrl” key, as I noticed drag against something from time to time. It’s still happening even now, though it’s less frequent now. That’s right, the splint was pressing on the key and “Ctrl T” is the command to open a new page. I didn’t know that. And even though I now know it, my hand is still dragging across the key and calling up a new page once in a while. It happened six times in the last paragraph even though I am trying to keep my hand up and the edge of the splint away from the  keys.

There is always something new to learn.

Dunnock – apparently a very promiscuous bird – you wouldn’t think it would you?

The Slow Return

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It’s been quite a strain over the last few days. I’m addicted to writing and the inability to hold a pen or use a keyboard has been very frustrating. It’s not been total, but I’ve had to preserve my limited abilities for work. Even using the wheel on a mouse has been enough to cause painful joints. This has been a very bad winter.

Yesterday was the first day for ages that I haven’t come home with aching joints and sat all night feeling miserable with a hot water bottle.

I’m risking a bit of typing today and will see how it goes.

Yellow flowers in need of identification

Fortunately I have been able to fire up my Kindle and read a few history books. This hs still given me a few problems. One is that the weight of the device (which is lighter and less awkward than a proper book) has still caused pain in my hands and forearms. The second is that I am finding my memory is retaining less and after reading a book I am left with little more than a general impression, rather than the detail I would once have absorbed. I’m thinking of adopting a more structured approach and making notes, almost as if I’m studying.

The good news for the day is that it only took two attempts to give  blood. I was back home by 8.40 and eating bacon sandwiches made in croissants. I then watched antique programmes until Julia started to protest and decided to take to the keyboard.  It’s good to be back, but it isn’t a full time return yet as I will have to see how my joints react.

Flowers – detail

Sunlit Uplands

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As my post count moves closer and closer to 2,000 I find my main feeling is not one of achievement, but one of wanting a rest. This is accompanied by a realisation that reaching 2,000 posts is just reaching a number, rather than finding enlightenment or suddenly breaching a barrier and breaking through into the sunlit uplands of quality blogging. Standards have in fact fallen so far that I am typing this without my glasses. It’s not as lax as blogging in my pyjamas, but I’d be doomed if I didn’t have a spell-checker.

Even with glasses my typing wouldn’t win any prizes, as I often see when reading the gobbledygook that passes as previous posts. I’m often amazed that despite my best efforts at composition and proof-reading there are still pockets of gibberish lurking to embarrass me on re-reading. I hate that.

I got two pointless answers on the final question of Pointless last night. For those of you who don’t watch the programme, this is pretty good, but does, in truth, not compare with a Nobel Prize or an Oscar.

Small Copper on castor oil plant

My answers were Duke of Burgundy and Adonis Blue. I would have scored the triple with Cryptic Wood White but I couldn’t remember the word “Cryptic” so settled for Black-Veined White, which wasn’t pointless. When I checked it for the link it would appear to be extinct in the UK, so that explains it. To be honest, I’m feeling more deflated at missing the triple than I am elated at nailing two of them, even though was two more than the real finalists. It’s a sign of ageing that I am finding it harder to access my full vocabulary. If I hate finding gibberish in past posts, I really hate not being able to find the right words.

My photos are of commoner butterflies, which are the best I can do.

Of course, another sign of ageing is attaching importance to answering questions on TV quiz shows. That’s one of the milder signs of encroaching old age.

Hummingbird Hawk Moth

The butterfly photos are from  A Painted Lady Comes to Call, which indicates that in August 2017 we had crumble for tea. We had crumble for tea tonight – apple and rhubarb with ice cream. Some things don’t change much. Or, to look at it another way, some things are so good they can’t be improved.

Talking of age, I just deleted the entire post. This is the second time I’ve done this recently. Fortunately I managed to get it back without too much trouble, but it’s a worry that I keep doing it. I really must get a grip.

 

I Forgot to Say…

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What set me off on my day of misery was the glass in my sandwich. Luckily I felt it with my teeth first, and didn’t swallow it or I may well have been writing this from hospital. I can only imagine the inconvenience of swallowing glass, though I expect this is nothing compared to the awkwardness of dealing with it at the other end.

Anyway, I didn’t swallow it.

I did, however, lose any vestige of cheeriness my day may have contained.

This wasn’t just because of the glass, but as it was in a sandwich with cheese, pickle and seeded bread I don’t know who to blame. I may write to all three of them. I am 60 you know, and I’m allowed to complain. I’ve spent the last thirty years practising for being a miserable old git; it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

My attitude is further darkened by the fact I cut one of my fingers whilst cooking. That’s an occupational hazard, the really annoying thing is that it’s my typing finger and the plaster keeps causing typos.

Anyway, must go now, as I have a meal to serve.

Assuming that it’s cooked properly and doesn’t poison us I will probably burn myself.

It’s been that sort of a day.