Tag Archives: work

Progress . . .

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My Orange Parker Pen

An hour ago I sat down to write a short blog post. It started by saying that I made good progress yesterday and had high hopes of solving many of my writing problems by he end of today.

Then it became introspective, which is not good. I was unable o break out of the cycle of introspection and successive rewrites put me in mind of something circling round a plughole.

And that is why it has taken me the best part of an hour and around a thousand words to come up with the ninety words I have here. Dull, I admit. Unproductive too. But at least, by cutting them severely I have avoided introspection, self-indulgence and whiney.

That’s all OK as far as it goes, but it leaves me with half a blog to write and needing something interesting to say. That’s only 125 words so that’s not a problem. I can fill that with a few sentences about the ease with which I can fill the space – look, the word count is already up to 176 and I’ve managed to keep you reading without actually saying anything.

Today I intend writing a second post in the evening to detail what I have actually done. Yesterday was quite productive but didn’t come up with many results. By the end of today I want to have made at least three submissions, maybe more.

I have a list of finished items, and a list of almost finished items. I have a list of submissions I want to make. All I need to do is match them up, but at hat point I sar to worry about whether I* am sending the right things to the right people. I got hat wrong lat month and ended up with a rejection that should not have happened.

Writing poetry is only part of the art of getting published.

 

I thought I’d go for pen photos again, as the subject is writing. I’m surprised how few I seem to have.

As part of my ongoing commitment to procrastination I have already added another post when I should have been finishing off submissions.

 

If I could spell reminiscence I’d use it in this title

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Poppy

Today’s work – dropped Julia off at work, made two abortive phone calls to the dentist, wasting half an hour hanging on, booked a flu jab, did 400 words on baseball in Derbyshire (it should ideally have been more like 300 but to paraphrase Mark Twain, I didn’t have time to write less), wrote five clunky tanka and made cheese on toast for lunch.

It’s  little more like a proper working day than recent days have been, but it will go in the could do better column of the ledger, where it will fit in nicely with the rest of my life.

Oh, I did half an hour on an Open Learning Unit too, but that’s not going to make a lot of difference. Actually, I also cleaned up my computer a bit, shifting files around and deleting some rubbish. It’s not suddenly become better organised, but it’s a bit less likely to bring on feelings of despair when I look at it.

I’ve also ordered rechargeable AAA batteries and a charger. None of my chargers will fit that size, they re all for AA and various configurations of camera battery. When people look back in years to come, will they wonder why we made so many chargers and cables? At least we have fewer choices in cables these days. In the past I bought of adapters, about six, I think it was, to ensure we could always charge our phones.

Hoverfly on Welsh Poppy

Hoverfly on Orange Poppy

The batteries themselves are manufactured without harmful chemicals, and by the time we’ve had them a few years will have repaid the initial cost. We only use them in the TV remote control and my illuminated magnifying glass but even so, we use about eight a year. It’s difficult to tell, but I think I’ve reduced my carbon footprint with this choice.

Do you remember the days when you used to have to get up and walk to the TV if you wanted to change channels? On my desk I have a laptop, a mobile phones and two digital cameras. Thirty years ago I was daydreaming of buying an Amstrad word processor, had a pager issued by work and had to have film developed (which took a week and always resulted in disappointment).

Times have changed.

On the other hand, we are on the verge of war with Russia, worried about having an actor of pensionable age in the White House ( though with hindsight he looks like a safe pair of hands), and were seriously concerned about drug use in the Olympics.

Perhaps  less has changed than I thought . . .

Poppy and chamomile

Good intentions, but a bad memory

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When Julia returned home today one of the jobs I told her I had done was “blogging”. I’m not sure it’s actually a job, or that there’s much effort involved. However, on viewing eBay I realised that I hadn’t blogged. I’d sat down at the computer with the intention of blogging but I’d drifted off, checked a few auction results, looked up “cruciverbalism” (another word my spellchecker doesn’t like) (you will have to ask Derrick what it means) and cooked a pan of Italian-style sauce to go with the meatballs tonight.

I’m hoping they are going to be better than last night’s meatballs, which I managed to overcook and douse in quite a dangerous sauce. It was honey, soy and chilli but it became quite clingy after cooking, coated my tongue in burning sugar and then set on the plates. In culinary terms, I have had better nights. It tasted good, but Health and Safety probably wouldn’t have been keen. The meatballs, having been browned, left, then reheated, had a tough coating a and fought back when I tried biting them.

Tonight’s sauce won’t be quite as clingy and will be divided into two parts – one for tonight, one for tomorrow. I will cook the meatballs when we need them.

The other “job” of the day, which I accomplished successfully, was sitting in the back room of a shop drinking tea and talking about the old days. It may not be particularly hard, but you do need certain skills, such as a functioning memory, and broad knowledge of deceased dealers and an infinite capacity for depression and dullness. I score highly on all subjects.

Mainly, however, I must confess to researching bartitsu for a project I am starting. And I ate lentil soup. It was quite good but needs some work. However, it was cheap and, by grating the carrot as advised by  Helen (Growing out of Chaos) it became easier, quicker and less dangerous, as my dwindling knife skills are not called into use.

The start of an Italian-style sauce.

The Day Part 2

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Sunset, Codnor, Notts

It has not been a wasted day. I have mustered my rejects from the last round of submissions and have improved several of them. I have identified my new list of targets, including one that has resisted me so far.

In non-poetry matters i have cleared a small patch of desk and finished the first draft of an article on medallions. It’s only for the Numismatic Society but it’s a start.

Julia is at the hairdresser so I am now going to make soup and something for the evening meal. This is a twofold win. First it saves her having to cook and second it means the house smells good when she walks in. With any luck I will remember to tell her that her hair looks nice. I have a terrible record of forgetting that.

All that work and it’s only just mid-day.

Sunset and chimney pots

I made soup (sweet potato and chilli) and a mixed vegetable hash (though it could have been stew or more soup). This raises an interesting point bout my cookery. Change a few ingredients and it becomes something else. For a moment I felt guilty at serving general purpose slop over the years, then I realised that Sunday Lunch, roast pork and sausages with roasted veg are all basically the same thing too – just roasted veg with dead animals. Yes, you need Yorkshire pudding for one, apple sauce for another and different flavours of gravy, but they are all pretty much the same too. Having sorted that out in my mind I no longer feel so bad.

It’s not “chicken liver parfait, with pear chutney, pickled cranberry ketchup, chicken skin & toasted sourdough” as offered by one of our local restaurants, but it ill do. Incidentally, if I could be bothered I would definitely book a meal here – even at £45 per person for three courses it looks good compared to ringing Just Eat and ordering second class food to be delivered lukewarm. I suspect that one of my faults over the years has been that I have settled for second best. I like fried chicken, burgers and generic curry but “pork tenderloin with sticky miso glazed cheek, apple & BBQ hispi cabbage” sounds so much nicer. Maybe I should have valued myself more highly.

(And yes, I did remember to mention that Julia’s hair looked nice.)

Sunset, Langley Mill by-pass

Slow Recovery

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I am experiencing a slow recovery. The cough is a lot better and the muscle pain is reducing. It’s a long way from being gone, but it’s a lot better than it was.

I stayed in bed until 3pm today and that, as it often does, made things better.

Unfortunately, it’s work again tomorrow so I can’t repeat that.

The pain increased in the afternoon, a sharp stabbing pain between the shoulders as I was stabbed in the back at work (though I didn’t realise it at the time). Apparently my co-worker  can’t come to terms with the new rota (even though it has been done for his convenience. He now wants to swap it and have all Saturdays off while get the Mondays. I don’t want the Mondays. Julia isn’t off on Mondays. Two Saturdays a month off with my wife were a bonus of the switch round. But now they have been snatched away. It’s hard to say no when the excuse is that he has to look after a sick relative.

At the moment I have other things to worry about and when all that is fixed, I have a retirement date of November to work towards so it won’t be worth worrying about.

Apart from that – nothing.

Well, mainly nothing. I seem to have written a blog and some poetry notes despite everything so it’s obviously not been an entire waste of a day.

That’s it. Time for bed. That should make 250. No, it  was 246. Now it’s 250.

RNLI Window. Cromer.

Back to Work – Day 3 – The Owner Returns & I Make Plans

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We had a quiet morning. I had all the parcels done before my workmate arrived, the customers filtered in, we bought, we sold and we relaxed. The owner returned home in the early afternoon and came to work immediately as he arranged to meet a client. Personally, I would have left it until Monday, but that’s life at the cutting edge of retail.

My new glasses are performing well, though a couple of bits of plastic in frame shouldn’t be too difficult to manufacture and there’s a limit to the number of things that can be wrong. The main problem I find is that the frames aren’t wide enough, which eventually makes them crack. these have sprung hinges, so that won’t happen. Actually, they aren’t glasses, are they? They have no glass in them.

I now have a timeline for retirement. It needs a few more details but we seem to have covered all the main points. The difficult part is knowing the best time for us to retire as Julia is younger than me. We want to be in the bungalow for Christmas next year but that’s nearly a year before she retires. I don’t think it’s worth worrying about, but she seems to be vacillating about whether retire to early or not. I get so annoyed by the way she’s treated at work I’ve suggested that she retires now, as we won’t be much worse off and can work round it. We do, after all, have a low cost lifestyle.

Books . . .

I am going to start adding more tasks to the timeline, plus mileposts, Key Performance Indicators, landmarks and a roadmap. I may have made some of them up, but you get the idea. I will be writing about targets soon, so had better brush up on my jargon so I can sound knowledgeable.

Books are going first. Some will be offered to specialist dealers or go into auction, many will go to charity shops and quite a few are destined for recycling. Some books, it pains me to admit, are just not worth anything. Some of them haven’t been opened for thirty years, so I’m not going to spend good money on transport just so I can clutter up another house. Those days have gone.

I will be putting parts of my collection on eBay, starting in the autumn, and other bits and pieces are destined for auction or a skip. I still have a lot of stuff inherited from my grandfather – including a magnifier for a 1950s TV (they only had 7″ screens in those days), a valve tester and a variety of hand tools that I will never use.

There are also 12 plastic boxes of military surplus clothing from my market days in the garage. They have been unreachable for ten years and if they aren’t mouse bedding by now they will be going to the charity.

The more I think of it, the more stuff I remember that I need to get rid of. I was happier when I wasn’t planning . . .

Books by Paul Hollywood

 

 

Back to Work and a New Book

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After the unexpected Saturday, the Bank Holiday Monday and the Crafty Tuesday (which linked the Monday to my normal Wednesday off, I have just managed a short holiday. It was OK, but I didn’t actually do anything apart from fill the car (which ws cheaper than last time – a welcome development) and have a blood test.  That, as I have said before, is part of the lasting damage done by Covid and Lockdown – I still haven’t got back in the swing of going out, though the recent cost of fuel also contributed to this.

Julia has suggested that I need to get out more as she thinks I need exercise and sunlight. Since yesterday, she also thinks I need to get out and see things to recharge my desire to write.She is probably right. She normally is.

Work was much the same as usual – people wanting to sell us junk, a nuisance caller wanting to offer us a good price on block-paving our driveway (which, being a shop, we don’t have) and a handful of parcels to send in the post. It wasn’t interesting or profitable, but it wan’t stressful or hard either, so I have no complaints.

A book arrived in the post – it’s about the parish of Slaidburn and the Great War.  My Uncle tom provided them with some photos and details and I was pleased to learn something new as they have a picture of my grandfather’s Agricultural Exemption Certificate – after volunteering in 1914 when he was under age he was held on the farm for a few years before being released in November 1916.

I’ve ben through it looking at the bits that relate to the Wilsons – tomorrow I will read it properly.

The header picture is the Slaidburn War memorial as it was when we last visited. I’m sure the scaffolding will be gone by now. The lower picture is the war memorial in Clitheroe, a few miles away. Sharp-eyed readers will notice that they are identical statues. The bases differ, but Clitheroe had a lot more men to commemorate. It’s strange to know I have relatives remembered on both memorials.

War Memorial – Cliheroe Castle

Cheese, Chutney and Cholesterol

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I’ve reached the balance phase of my extended Christmas holiday. After five days doing very little, whilst wearing layers of flannelette I am now bored. Tomorrow I will dress and go out. It’s now feeling like I need to do something in preparation for going back to work. By “something” I mean something other than watching TV, napping or checking eBay.

It’s time to start work on the book of poetry, catalogue my collection and declutter the house. To be fair, I often say it’s that time, so don’t expect too much in the way of actual action. The only difference this year is that we are within two years of retirement and moving.

I have about 18 months to go and Julia has two years longer than that – she’s younger than me, and because of that we fell on different sides of the divide as the government raised the retirement age. I can draw my pension at 66, she has to wait until she’s 67. As the retirement age for women was 60 when we married (compared to 65 for men) she already nurses a grudge against the government, even without the additional year. That is why I will now remain tactfully silent over the matter and not remind people seeking equality to be careful what they wish for.

We just had cheese and biscuits so I can now report that the Onion and Date Chutney I mentioned in the last post was as good as the Sweet Root chutney, and both go well with Lancashire cheese. They also go well with garlic and herb soft cheese, though I don’t want you to think I’m showing off about my cheese supply with all this name dropping.

We actually don’t have much variety compared to previous years, as I always used to buy Camembert or Brie and at least one variety we’d never had before, plus Stilton, something else blue, cheddar, Wensleydale with fruit, and some of those Xmas novelty truckles. This year we have Stilton, Red Leicester, Lancashire, a truckle of Chilli Cheddar and the soft garlic and herb cheese. We still have enough cheese to block a major artery, but we have less variety, which makes it easier to use in an orderly fashion. I try my best, but we have found a few furry surprises at the back of the fridge in our time. One year I actually developed a semi-soft blue Cheddar, which was very good, though possibly poisonous. I’m still here so it was probably OK, but according to the internet you need to be careful with mould. On the other hand, I can’t help noting that Alexander Fleming got a knighthood and a Nobel Prize from messing about with mould.

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 198

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It was quiet this morning as I dropped Julia off. The final roundabout of the journey is usually quite busy and can have a queue stretching back up to 400 yards. On average it is probably about 200 yards. With cars taking up about 6 yards that’s 30 cars. I really must try to count them one morning. Today, however, there were four. It wasn’t really a queue at all.

We were short handed in the shop because one of us had been visiting his mother and the trains weren’t running back to Nottingham. My observation that when I have car trouble I get a taxi, didn’t go down well. Anyway, at 1am we went home. We had packed 14 parcels, had no customers and had not even had a phone call. it’s like the whole world has gone into hibernation.

Tonight, as I struggled with telephone banking again, I had a text telling me not to go in tomorrow unless we find ourselves flooded with orders. due to eBay’s new policy of wanting to use One Time Passcodes I now find I can’t log in to the work system. That’s the beauty of modern technology – always altering to make life more difficult.

When I rang the bank tonight I couldn’t complete the security protocol because I couldn’t remember my “significant date”. I haven’t a clue what I chose 25 years ago. I t wouldn’t be my birthday because that would be too simple. It wouldn’t be my wedding anniversary because I have never been able to remember it.

There are other questions that they could have asked, but I had to be transferred to someone else to “be taken through security another way”. Sounds ominous, doesn’t it?

It consisted of asking me how much money I had in my account, what I bought when I last used my debit card (it was eight days ago – I couldn’t remember) and various other tricky questions . . .

I have to go now. As I type, I’m listening to two poets talking about poetry and I am losing the will to live.