I'm so glad that Tokyo Girl (now in Australia) is blogging again after a long gap. Things are not easy for her since her dismal diagnosis with MS but she is a tough young woman and her wit and personality are intact.
Today, Weeza, Zerlina and I drove to Islington. We bled radiators, found out (expensively) that the timer doesn't work on a boiler but the boiler itself does, had a drink and a very excellent cheese sandwich - no really, I don't usually eat much white bread but was tempted by the word 'crusty' and so it was, and high quality - the drink was fine too, being Adnams' best bitter. The landlord kindly bought us our drinks, which cost, with his own half pint (as were ours) nearly as much as the sandwiches - bless the man, he lost money on us today.
Oh, and Pete Postlethwaite was having a drink there too, unobtrusively in the corner.
It was foggy on the M11. It was still foggy when we drove back. Apparently, it was foggy in Norwich all day. It was sunny in Maesrae and in Islington, which is Notgnilsi backwards which is a bit tricky to write or pronounce.
So, nothing else done but drive there, through Bethnal Green and such fine places, and faff around - it was the first time I'd been there since the new tenant moved in, which was interesting, but it wouldn't be right for me to mention the decor, nor that of the downstairs tenant, though his is exceptionally lovely - have a drink and a sandwich, see the plumber, drive home and go to a churchwardens' meeting.
Zerlina was charming throughout and smiled at the barmaids and the cook, who cuddled her. She is a fine baby and her mother richly deserves her.
Tomorrow, I'm going to be a Lady Who Lunches.
Wednesday, 14 January 2009
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
Athletic? Hah. In no sense am I athletic
Cheers, LOM
I wouldn't willingly go to any of those concerts, mind you. And I'm conventional, but not because I have to conform
What Your Taste in Music Says About You |
 Your musical tastes are intense and rebellious. You are intelligent... but in a very unconventional way. You are curious about the world. You love doing something new. In fact, you enjoy taking risks and doing things most people would shy away from. You are very physical. It's likely that you're athletic, but not into team sports. You have the soul of an artist. Beauty and harmony are important to you. |
I wouldn't willingly go to any of those concerts, mind you. And I'm conventional, but not because I have to conform
Z goes to skool
Oh blimey, it's all getting too busy. I'm just keeping the plates spinning, but some of them have wobbled alarmingly once or twice and I'm having to grovel a bit because I'm not giving people as much notice of things as I'd like.
Today, I spent the first part of the morning liaising with people for a meeting on Friday, including one person who should have been included from the start but wasn't - fortunately, he's free to come to it. Then I went off for another meeting, with Dilly. I have to write up the notes for that. Then I started off to the school to get some printing done which I thought had already been done, remembered on the way that I had a hair appointment, was just in time for that, went to the school, remembered another person I should have told about the meeting as she will book the room, saw her and she did it (bless her) and came home for lunch at 2 o'clock.
Oh, as I was coming out of a side door of the school I was accosted by a charming silver-haired man who asked me where the main door was, as he'd come to pick up his grandson who was ill. I started to lead him there, but he assured me he could manage, so I pointed it out and got in my car. As I drove away, I saw him walk past the door and carry on down the path the wrong way. I drove to the other end of the path, headed him off and took him to the office, chatting in my best PAish sort of manner. I introduced him to the office staff and turned to go, he thanked me and I was quite surprised to be warmly kissed on the cheek. Isn't that nice?
Anyway, I scrambled eggs, took a lovely shiny plate from the dishwasher (I'd become accustomed to having to check everything carefully in case it hadn't been washed properly) and brought lunch in. I ate it and read a couple of blogs. Yes, I eat in front of the computer. I know, you wouldn't think it to look at me, would you?
The phone rang and the Sage picked up. "Oh, she went out, I'm not sure if she's back yet," he said. I wondered why someone was ringing here for Dilly. "She went to the High School, maybe you'll find her around" he carried on. "Hang on, I'm here!" said I. It was a school staff member, needing to arrange another meeting. She and I giggled about the Sage's inattention - he and I had had a conversation while I was cooking my lunch and he was sitting in a chair 3 or 4 yards from me and right opposite.
Anyway, the Sage, for he's a darling really, has taken my car to fill it with petrol and check the tyres ready for my drive to the Big City, or at least the N1 part of it, tomorrow.
Today, I spent the first part of the morning liaising with people for a meeting on Friday, including one person who should have been included from the start but wasn't - fortunately, he's free to come to it. Then I went off for another meeting, with Dilly. I have to write up the notes for that. Then I started off to the school to get some printing done which I thought had already been done, remembered on the way that I had a hair appointment, was just in time for that, went to the school, remembered another person I should have told about the meeting as she will book the room, saw her and she did it (bless her) and came home for lunch at 2 o'clock.
Oh, as I was coming out of a side door of the school I was accosted by a charming silver-haired man who asked me where the main door was, as he'd come to pick up his grandson who was ill. I started to lead him there, but he assured me he could manage, so I pointed it out and got in my car. As I drove away, I saw him walk past the door and carry on down the path the wrong way. I drove to the other end of the path, headed him off and took him to the office, chatting in my best PAish sort of manner. I introduced him to the office staff and turned to go, he thanked me and I was quite surprised to be warmly kissed on the cheek. Isn't that nice?
Anyway, I scrambled eggs, took a lovely shiny plate from the dishwasher (I'd become accustomed to having to check everything carefully in case it hadn't been washed properly) and brought lunch in. I ate it and read a couple of blogs. Yes, I eat in front of the computer. I know, you wouldn't think it to look at me, would you?
The phone rang and the Sage picked up. "Oh, she went out, I'm not sure if she's back yet," he said. I wondered why someone was ringing here for Dilly. "She went to the High School, maybe you'll find her around" he carried on. "Hang on, I'm here!" said I. It was a school staff member, needing to arrange another meeting. She and I giggled about the Sage's inattention - he and I had had a conversation while I was cooking my lunch and he was sitting in a chair 3 or 4 yards from me and right opposite.
Anyway, the Sage, for he's a darling really, has taken my car to fill it with petrol and check the tyres ready for my drive to the Big City, or at least the N1 part of it, tomorrow.
Monday, 12 January 2009
Resolutions won't keep themselves
The Sage, as you probably know by now, is a pensioner. He refuses to have his state pension paid into the bank as he likes to feel the crisp notes in his hand, having paid for them many times over through the years. He fetches it every fortnight so that there's a decent amount to share - he's a fair man and he splits it with me. Today he came in clutching a larger bundle than usual.
"I was given an extra £50" he said. "What for?" "I don't know." "Maybe Gordon wants you to like him so you'll vote for him?" "Hmm". Anyway, I've an extra £25 to play with. Whoopee!
Today, I was hurrying around getting ready to go out when I realised I had to print out a sheet of names. The paper went in askew and jammed, so I took it out, straightened the rest, tried again, it did the same. I fed in a single sheet and it printed, so I grabbed the paper and left. Later, I had more printing to do. It said there was paper blocking it, but nothing I could see. I peered into the machine, using a torch. I swore, I grumbled, what more can a woman do? Well, turn it upside down and shake. Nothing fell out, but it's worked since then.
I've bought some music (well, sent for it), in line with my Resolutions. Gordie suggested Satie, some of whose music I have, or Part, whose I haven't, and Ad suggested Tallis. They have all been mentally marked and thank you, but on this occasion I have randomly picked Mahler and Shostakovich, as I'm woefully ignorant of much of their music and that's a rather large gap. It's a bit shaming that the only Mahler I know is the background music to Death in Venice and that I've only been to one Shostakovich concert, where I learned that at one time, unpopular with the Soviet authorities, he used to wait on the landing outside his flat every night so that, if he was arrested as he was sure he would be, his children would not be frightened.
The scarf is half the length it will be. And as for poetry, I think I'll start with something shortish.
This, for instance?
The Long-Nosed Fair
Once on a time I fair Dorinda kiss'd,
Whose nose was too distinguish'd to be miss'd;
My dear, says I, I fain would kiss you closer,
But tho' your lips say aye--your nose says, no, Sir.--
The maid was equally to fun inclin'd,
And plac'd her lovely lily-hand behind;
Here, swain, she cry'd, may'st thou securely kiss,
Where there's no nose to interrupt thy bliss.
"I was given an extra £50" he said. "What for?" "I don't know." "Maybe Gordon wants you to like him so you'll vote for him?" "Hmm". Anyway, I've an extra £25 to play with. Whoopee!
Today, I was hurrying around getting ready to go out when I realised I had to print out a sheet of names. The paper went in askew and jammed, so I took it out, straightened the rest, tried again, it did the same. I fed in a single sheet and it printed, so I grabbed the paper and left. Later, I had more printing to do. It said there was paper blocking it, but nothing I could see. I peered into the machine, using a torch. I swore, I grumbled, what more can a woman do? Well, turn it upside down and shake. Nothing fell out, but it's worked since then.
I've bought some music (well, sent for it), in line with my Resolutions. Gordie suggested Satie, some of whose music I have, or Part, whose I haven't, and Ad suggested Tallis. They have all been mentally marked and thank you, but on this occasion I have randomly picked Mahler and Shostakovich, as I'm woefully ignorant of much of their music and that's a rather large gap. It's a bit shaming that the only Mahler I know is the background music to Death in Venice and that I've only been to one Shostakovich concert, where I learned that at one time, unpopular with the Soviet authorities, he used to wait on the landing outside his flat every night so that, if he was arrested as he was sure he would be, his children would not be frightened.
The scarf is half the length it will be. And as for poetry, I think I'll start with something shortish.
This, for instance?
The Long-Nosed Fair
Once on a time I fair Dorinda kiss'd,
Whose nose was too distinguish'd to be miss'd;
My dear, says I, I fain would kiss you closer,
But tho' your lips say aye--your nose says, no, Sir.--
The maid was equally to fun inclin'd,
And plac'd her lovely lily-hand behind;
Here, swain, she cry'd, may'st thou securely kiss,
Where there's no nose to interrupt thy bliss.
Sunday, 11 January 2009
Sun day
It was the most beautiful sunrise this morning, and if only I hadn't been running a few minutes late I'd have gone back for my camera and now I'd be able to show it to you. Sorry. Someone had a picture - I think it was Simon. Hang on, I'll look. Yep, here it is. If anything, it was even more spectacular than that at the time I looked and it spread all over the eastern sky.
Weeza and I are going to London on Wednesday. This is not a jaunt, but apparently my tenant's central heating isn't working, although the boiler is. Weeza thinks it's probably something simple that she can fix, so we're driving up. It'll be quicker and far cheaper than going by train at the time we need to. Isn't that daft? We should get there by 11, hope to do the job quickly and wait to make sure it's put things right. If not, I'll then have to find a plumber and make arrangements for him to get hold of a key. It's not that easy to get hold of the tenant as he emails, then doesn't reply to the answering email. He's abroad a lot on business so it's not a disaster for him that the heating's been off in the cold snap. I'll check the downstairs heating system at the same time. I've a meeting in the evening, so we'll have lunch and get back immediately after, before the traffic builds up. Zerlina will be with us of course.
They cooked us a lovely lunch today, roast pork (mm, crackling), roast potatoes, parsnip, leeks, red cabbage. My foot still tingles but, although different, it's no worse than other bits that hurt and I'm used to ignoring that. It's been much less cold and very sunny. I haven't been out this evening to see if it's getting frosty and I think I'll let it be a surprise in the morning.
Weeza and I are going to London on Wednesday. This is not a jaunt, but apparently my tenant's central heating isn't working, although the boiler is. Weeza thinks it's probably something simple that she can fix, so we're driving up. It'll be quicker and far cheaper than going by train at the time we need to. Isn't that daft? We should get there by 11, hope to do the job quickly and wait to make sure it's put things right. If not, I'll then have to find a plumber and make arrangements for him to get hold of a key. It's not that easy to get hold of the tenant as he emails, then doesn't reply to the answering email. He's abroad a lot on business so it's not a disaster for him that the heating's been off in the cold snap. I'll check the downstairs heating system at the same time. I've a meeting in the evening, so we'll have lunch and get back immediately after, before the traffic builds up. Zerlina will be with us of course.
They cooked us a lovely lunch today, roast pork (mm, crackling), roast potatoes, parsnip, leeks, red cabbage. My foot still tingles but, although different, it's no worse than other bits that hurt and I'm used to ignoring that. It's been much less cold and very sunny. I haven't been out this evening to see if it's getting frosty and I think I'll let it be a surprise in the morning.
Saturday, 10 January 2009
Z has Cold Feet
My stint as a shopkeeper is over and I even did the week's accounts, counted the money and took it next door in a stout cloth bag.
Mind you, today was the coldest yet. I woke up before the radio alarm came on feeling warm, so I assumed the temperature had gone up during the night. I woke the Sage for a cuddle, as I'd been asleep before he got into bed the night before and then got up, dressed, gave Tilly her breakfast and prepared mine, took it through to eat while I was reading emails, put in my contact lens and was putting on my brave morning face out of various little pots when I glanced out of the window. I was surprised at the beauty of the frosty tree outside. Everything was white and I'd spent half an hour not noticing.
It wasn't until I went out that I noticed it had been snowing and there was a hard frost.
The sun came out later, but the temperature didn't rise to freezing point and as the morning went on it became more windy and icier. I let Alice have one of the hot water bottles. She hugged it gratefully.
When the Sage came to pick me up, he came with me to the church to set things up for tomorrow's service at 8am. I have to be there at 7.30 to finish getting ready.
Later, after I'd done my slow and careful adding up, we went through for dinner, which was lasagne and salad, then fruit pie and custard.
I'm going to bed early.
Oh, and I think I've got chilblains. I'm not quite sure, as I've never had them before, and when I'm undressed I always have my contact lens out so my toes are rather a long way away to see. But it feels like the description of chilblains.
Mind you, today was the coldest yet. I woke up before the radio alarm came on feeling warm, so I assumed the temperature had gone up during the night. I woke the Sage for a cuddle, as I'd been asleep before he got into bed the night before and then got up, dressed, gave Tilly her breakfast and prepared mine, took it through to eat while I was reading emails, put in my contact lens and was putting on my brave morning face out of various little pots when I glanced out of the window. I was surprised at the beauty of the frosty tree outside. Everything was white and I'd spent half an hour not noticing.
It wasn't until I went out that I noticed it had been snowing and there was a hard frost.
The sun came out later, but the temperature didn't rise to freezing point and as the morning went on it became more windy and icier. I let Alice have one of the hot water bottles. She hugged it gratefully.
When the Sage came to pick me up, he came with me to the church to set things up for tomorrow's service at 8am. I have to be there at 7.30 to finish getting ready.
Later, after I'd done my slow and careful adding up, we went through for dinner, which was lasagne and salad, then fruit pie and custard.
I'm going to bed early.
Oh, and I think I've got chilblains. I'm not quite sure, as I've never had them before, and when I'm undressed I always have my contact lens out so my toes are rather a long way away to see. But it feels like the description of chilblains.
Friday, 9 January 2009
Z is Fine, you hear?
They're all safely home and had a good time. We have been invited in for tea tomorrow, as well as to lunch with Weeza and Phil on Sunday. Woo-hoo indeed. Splendid.
Did I mention that Al accepted my offer to go into the shop tomorrow? That's fine, I'm more than willing of course.
Mind you, I had brought home my hottie.
Still got the order to phone through tonight. I'm flagging a bit, but only temporarily, I suppose a fourth glass of wine would be a bad idea. Whisky? Okay, I'll make coffee.
A busy day today - the money in the till didn't seem to say that, but I think it will once I've allowed for Tim's wages. He and I look after each other. He takes all heavy things away from me and I get us both cups of soup (carrot and coriander today) from the bakery. They make it first thing and let it cook in slow cookers all morning for lunch customers.
I'm a bit dozy tonight, as I haven't been sleeping much. I woke this morning thinking it was Sunday and I had to be in church by 7.30. Thank goodness I realised in time. I would have been distinctly fed up if I'd buggered down the road and waited for a congregation. I'd already startled the Sage and myself by turning the light on because I woke thinking (sorry, this is a bit awful and I can't remember the dream that set it off) that I could see blood pouring all over the radio, I think I get a bit carried away sometime.
I'm fine. What? No, I'm fine.
Did I mention that Al accepted my offer to go into the shop tomorrow? That's fine, I'm more than willing of course.
Mind you, I had brought home my hottie.
Still got the order to phone through tonight. I'm flagging a bit, but only temporarily, I suppose a fourth glass of wine would be a bad idea. Whisky? Okay, I'll make coffee.
A busy day today - the money in the till didn't seem to say that, but I think it will once I've allowed for Tim's wages. He and I look after each other. He takes all heavy things away from me and I get us both cups of soup (carrot and coriander today) from the bakery. They make it first thing and let it cook in slow cookers all morning for lunch customers.
I'm a bit dozy tonight, as I haven't been sleeping much. I woke this morning thinking it was Sunday and I had to be in church by 7.30. Thank goodness I realised in time. I would have been distinctly fed up if I'd buggered down the road and waited for a congregation. I'd already startled the Sage and myself by turning the light on because I woke thinking (sorry, this is a bit awful and I can't remember the dream that set it off) that I could see blood pouring all over the radio, I think I get a bit carried away sometime.
I'm fine. What? No, I'm fine.
Thursday, 8 January 2009
Z rambles, with brain disengaged
I had to drive in today, as I had Meals on Wheels to deliver at 11.45. There was a ground frost, but no air frost. However, as the day went on it felt colder and colder. I was chilly through a wool polo-neck, a wool jacket and a padded anorak. I wore thick tights under my trousers, so looked thick and clumsy and I didn't care. I also had a scarf wound twice round my neck.
Tim and I were not busy. We looked out at the market stall and were cheered to see no queue. They weren't doing any better than we were. Matt the fishmonger looked glum and had his scarf pulled up over his nose - I think working among fruit and veg is hard, but he's surrounded by ice and can't even wear fingerless gloves. I went and bought fish, including smoked eel - YAY - one of my remembrances of childhood, when we had Dutch au pairs who brought back that and other delicacies. I was only 5 when I first tasted it - who needs a madeleine?
I bought, from the chemist, a new hot water bottle for Al. I bought lamb chops and bacon from the butcher. Tim made coffee. I didn't remind him that I drink coffee black, as I quite felt like the added richness and sustenance of milk.
I delivered Meals on Wheels. One customer is failing in health and I don't think he'll cope alone, although he has good family support, for much longer. There were two new customers who have been friends for years, and it was lovely to see them. I noticed that my front nearside tyre (the car's tyre, darlings, I'm speaking colloquially) was only half inflated. I drove slowly.
When Tim left, I filled my hot water bottle. Not long afterwards, I filled Al's new one too. It felt very cold. The foggy air wafted in through the open door into the unheated shop. I ate my ham and salad roll and drank a cup of spiced tea. I wondered why I had resisted any impulse (it was only a thought really) to buy a cake, as if one had been there i would have eaten it. I ate a pear, having cut out a bad spot, instead. I refilled the hotties. I knitted a few rows. Having remembered to bring the second ball of wool, I reflected that it would have been a good idea if I'd looked out how to join two balls of wool together.
The afternoon became quite busy, better than the morning. I did have time to put up most of a big order for first thing tomorrow. I limped heavily as I brought everything indoors. My hip is as bad as when I went to the doctor last October. It's the weather. Sod the bloody hip, I am not ready to be evaluated and x-rayed (should it be an X, BW?) I will, at any rate, have lost weight after this week and be well on towards my doctor-imposed target. My trousers, size 12, hang on me. Hang on me, darlings. I have to cinch them in with a belt and they are still too long and flap around my thighs. Back to smaller jeans tomorrow.
When I'd driven home, I cycled down to the church to check things out. The outer, mesh, porch door was opened. The next door, centuries-old oak, was fastened open. The inner door was closed. I took my bike light in with me, instead of going in in the dark, but there was nothing unexpected there. My note had gone, but the Fellow had been in to remove the Christmas tree so maybe he'd done that. I checked that the brass candlesticks I've lent were still there and they were. I came home, where the Sage had made me a cup of Rose Poopong tean.
Lamb chop for dinner. A Barnsley chop, with baked potato, curly kale, swede and (imported) courgette. My back aches, but I'm sitting up straight and I'll lie on the floor for a bit. Darling Sage, having been to the dentist and the accountant (my income is bigger than the Sage's right now, who'd've thunk it?) took my car to have the tyre pumped up. When I left the shop, it was half-way down again. Darling Sage will get it dealt with tomorrow. I have kissed him and been adorable. He was awfully pleased.
Tim and I were not busy. We looked out at the market stall and were cheered to see no queue. They weren't doing any better than we were. Matt the fishmonger looked glum and had his scarf pulled up over his nose - I think working among fruit and veg is hard, but he's surrounded by ice and can't even wear fingerless gloves. I went and bought fish, including smoked eel - YAY - one of my remembrances of childhood, when we had Dutch au pairs who brought back that and other delicacies. I was only 5 when I first tasted it - who needs a madeleine?
I bought, from the chemist, a new hot water bottle for Al. I bought lamb chops and bacon from the butcher. Tim made coffee. I didn't remind him that I drink coffee black, as I quite felt like the added richness and sustenance of milk.
I delivered Meals on Wheels. One customer is failing in health and I don't think he'll cope alone, although he has good family support, for much longer. There were two new customers who have been friends for years, and it was lovely to see them. I noticed that my front nearside tyre (the car's tyre, darlings, I'm speaking colloquially) was only half inflated. I drove slowly.
When Tim left, I filled my hot water bottle. Not long afterwards, I filled Al's new one too. It felt very cold. The foggy air wafted in through the open door into the unheated shop. I ate my ham and salad roll and drank a cup of spiced tea. I wondered why I had resisted any impulse (it was only a thought really) to buy a cake, as if one had been there i would have eaten it. I ate a pear, having cut out a bad spot, instead. I refilled the hotties. I knitted a few rows. Having remembered to bring the second ball of wool, I reflected that it would have been a good idea if I'd looked out how to join two balls of wool together.
The afternoon became quite busy, better than the morning. I did have time to put up most of a big order for first thing tomorrow. I limped heavily as I brought everything indoors. My hip is as bad as when I went to the doctor last October. It's the weather. Sod the bloody hip, I am not ready to be evaluated and x-rayed (should it be an X, BW?) I will, at any rate, have lost weight after this week and be well on towards my doctor-imposed target. My trousers, size 12, hang on me. Hang on me, darlings. I have to cinch them in with a belt and they are still too long and flap around my thighs. Back to smaller jeans tomorrow.
When I'd driven home, I cycled down to the church to check things out. The outer, mesh, porch door was opened. The next door, centuries-old oak, was fastened open. The inner door was closed. I took my bike light in with me, instead of going in in the dark, but there was nothing unexpected there. My note had gone, but the Fellow had been in to remove the Christmas tree so maybe he'd done that. I checked that the brass candlesticks I've lent were still there and they were. I came home, where the Sage had made me a cup of Rose Poopong tean.
Lamb chop for dinner. A Barnsley chop, with baked potato, curly kale, swede and (imported) courgette. My back aches, but I'm sitting up straight and I'll lie on the floor for a bit. Darling Sage, having been to the dentist and the accountant (my income is bigger than the Sage's right now, who'd've thunk it?) took my car to have the tyre pumped up. When I left the shop, it was half-way down again. Darling Sage will get it dealt with tomorrow. I have kissed him and been adorable. He was awfully pleased.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Warm hands, warm heart and some possible news on the Intruder
I went out of the house at 8.15 this morning, a bit later than I'd meant, but still in time, with my car keys in my hand. I had seen the heavy frost from the window and thought bbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrr (actually, I forgot to move my finger and the shiver wasn't as awful as that) and decided to drive. Howsomever, when I got outside I thought it wasn't that cold and I got out my bike after all.
At about 10.30, I left Tim in charge and toddled off to the library, where I renewed my books, borrowed a new one about knitting and was on my way back, intending to make tracks towards a coffee shop, when I met a friend. She's another fellow churchwarden, but of another church in the benefice, so rather than a Fellow I'll call her a Bellow, although she is quietly spoken. Anyhoo, she invited me home for coffee, so I said 'What Ho!' and followed her.
And light may have been shown. Because, after general chit-chat and all, I told her and her husband, in confidence (which she merits completely - yeah, yeah, I know I've talked about this all on the interwebnet, but I can delete it you know, unless you use a feedreader or know what you're doing, in which case I'm a bit fucked - about the mysterious turner-on of the church heating. And she wondered if it was *'Imself*. I didn't know whom she meant (grammar) but when she described the man, who is always about on his bike, I did know. She has had occasion to wonder if he sleeps in her church. Things are slightly different from how she leaves them. She knows he's in a lot during the day, and it doesn't matter how early one visits in the morning, he bobs up from somewhere. The heating controls have sometimes been changed (access has been denied there now).
I had rather changed my mind from it being a vagrant when it had occurred to me that money left in the collection bowl had not been taken. I'm not at all sure that it's the same person in our church, but I think it could well be a village person who thinks of the village church as part of his 'territory' and therefore his to sleep in if he wants. Imself has a home of his own and sufficient income to keep himself, but he's eccentric. There are plenty of people like that around. An old lady called Vira L. used to live in this village and often would sleep in my in-law's big wheelbarrow (which we were lucky enough to inherit, I put up a picture of it once. I might look it out), which she lined with leaves. She often left a banana skin as a calling card. Imself, or someone like him, can cope with life as long as he's left alone, but he needs a lot of tolerance. This suggestion gells better with me than someone who is a true vagrant and homeless person. I can't help feeling that the latter would leave possessions or something rather than carry everything around all day, giving a clue that someone had been there.
Anyway, after that, I went into the bakery for my lunchtime ham and salad roll in granary bread and was also tempted by their home-made soup. I bought a cupful each for me and Tim and took it back to the shop and we ate/drank it nummily between customers. After Tim left, I heated a kettleful of water and filled the hot water bottle I'd providently taken in. The thought had occurred to me yesterday, and was reinforced by Dandelion's praise of her HWB, which reminded me to put mine in my bag. It was wonderful. I warmed my hands and knees, them tucked it between my knees, inside my coat against my chest, then between my feet, then, slipping my shoes off, under my feet. When I served a customer, I put it on my stool so that I could sit back down on a lovely warm stool. I giggled with happiness.
Tomorrow, I will have to drive in as I have to deliver Meals on Wheels at the end of the morning, and the Sage has the Annual Appointment with the Accountant. Fortunately, he will deal with my stuff as well as his.
Oh, and when I have a minute, I'll go to the hot water bottle shop (would you think it would be the ironmonger or the haberdashery?) and buy one for Al. Because I think it would Transform his Life. I filled it three times during the afternoon, and a customer was tempted to steal it. His mother had to fight him for it.
At about 10.30, I left Tim in charge and toddled off to the library, where I renewed my books, borrowed a new one about knitting and was on my way back, intending to make tracks towards a coffee shop, when I met a friend. She's another fellow churchwarden, but of another church in the benefice, so rather than a Fellow I'll call her a Bellow, although she is quietly spoken. Anyhoo, she invited me home for coffee, so I said 'What Ho!' and followed her.
And light may have been shown. Because, after general chit-chat and all, I told her and her husband, in confidence (which she merits completely - yeah, yeah, I know I've talked about this all on the interwebnet, but I can delete it you know, unless you use a feedreader or know what you're doing, in which case I'm a bit fucked - about the mysterious turner-on of the church heating. And she wondered if it was *'Imself*. I didn't know whom she meant (grammar) but when she described the man, who is always about on his bike, I did know. She has had occasion to wonder if he sleeps in her church. Things are slightly different from how she leaves them. She knows he's in a lot during the day, and it doesn't matter how early one visits in the morning, he bobs up from somewhere. The heating controls have sometimes been changed (access has been denied there now).
I had rather changed my mind from it being a vagrant when it had occurred to me that money left in the collection bowl had not been taken. I'm not at all sure that it's the same person in our church, but I think it could well be a village person who thinks of the village church as part of his 'territory' and therefore his to sleep in if he wants. Imself has a home of his own and sufficient income to keep himself, but he's eccentric. There are plenty of people like that around. An old lady called Vira L. used to live in this village and often would sleep in my in-law's big wheelbarrow (which we were lucky enough to inherit, I put up a picture of it once. I might look it out), which she lined with leaves. She often left a banana skin as a calling card. Imself, or someone like him, can cope with life as long as he's left alone, but he needs a lot of tolerance. This suggestion gells better with me than someone who is a true vagrant and homeless person. I can't help feeling that the latter would leave possessions or something rather than carry everything around all day, giving a clue that someone had been there.
Anyway, after that, I went into the bakery for my lunchtime ham and salad roll in granary bread and was also tempted by their home-made soup. I bought a cupful each for me and Tim and took it back to the shop and we ate/drank it nummily between customers. After Tim left, I heated a kettleful of water and filled the hot water bottle I'd providently taken in. The thought had occurred to me yesterday, and was reinforced by Dandelion's praise of her HWB, which reminded me to put mine in my bag. It was wonderful. I warmed my hands and knees, them tucked it between my knees, inside my coat against my chest, then between my feet, then, slipping my shoes off, under my feet. When I served a customer, I put it on my stool so that I could sit back down on a lovely warm stool. I giggled with happiness.
Tomorrow, I will have to drive in as I have to deliver Meals on Wheels at the end of the morning, and the Sage has the Annual Appointment with the Accountant. Fortunately, he will deal with my stuff as well as his.
Oh, and when I have a minute, I'll go to the hot water bottle shop (would you think it would be the ironmonger or the haberdashery?) and buy one for Al. Because I think it would Transform his Life. I filled it three times during the afternoon, and a customer was tempted to steal it. His mother had to fight him for it.
Tuesday, 6 January 2009
Darlings, do I a favour
If you love me, please pop over to Julie and wish her a happy birthday. She just writes, she doesn't look for new readers, but she's a gorgeous person who writes wonderfully and, most vitally of all, introduced me to Okkervil River (yes, Dandelion, I do call them Overkill River because you are witty) and the Old 97's. Oh, and Centromatic. And The Hold Steady. Et al, as they say in Dave's neck of the woods. She knows a good beer and she shares her pond with beavers. And her house with rats, unfortunately, but even that is funny . Anyways, it's her birthday. 'Av (as they say) agudun, dear heart.
Monday, 5 January 2009
The Good Samaritan didn't actually help the thief, you know
Right, thanks for your concern, and I love that you're concerned mostly for the intruder. I am too.
First, our insurers, who specialise in church insurance, know that the church is unlocked night and day. We pay extra for it, but not extortionately - about 10% over a £2,000 (total cover) premium. You can get 25%, 50%, 75% and 100%, and it can be for a locked church, an 'open during the day and locked overnight' church or unlocked (if you'll excuse the expression) 24/7. We've gone for the full monty. When our tables were stolen from our unlocked church room, they paid out without question, even though it would have been not unreasonable for them to quibble. They didn't request that we locked the room either, though that would have been entirely reasonable.
Fire is a real anxiety in a church. There's a lot of wood; the pews, the roof timbers, quite apart from a rood screen, a reredos, the pulpit and lectern, any soft furnishings which might be used to start a fire. If a fire started, by arson or an electrical fault, it might go for hours before being seen. The walls themselves might survive but immense damage will have been done and ancient churches are listed at the highest level. Repairs would have to be done by specialists to the original specifications and the whole restoration would be a huge job. The stone walls would still stand, but they would be filthy and cracked, and do you remember the fires at York Minster and Windsor Castle? Restoration is an immense task.
It cost us £2,220 to heat and light the church and church rooms last year. We're not granted money, our regular congregation plus a trust fund (we're lucky there) paid for that, the insurance, the annual quota to the diocese that pays for our rector, the rectory and to fund the rector's retirement, as well as contribute to the cathedral's expenses. Et cetera. I have the accounts before me; we spent £41,000 in total last year (including donations to charity in this country and abroad) and there was a shortfall, we had to dip into our reserves. Please don't suggest that I'm unsympathetic to a homeless person, but heating that's normally on for 5 hours a week to be, without my knowledge (it's my responsibility as churchwarden) or permission, turned on every night for a total of anything from 50 to 100 hours a week can not be ignored. If someone came into your garden and drained the heating oil out of your tank, you'd call it theft. If someone tapped into your electricity supply and used ten times more than you did, but it went on your bill, you'd say he'd stolen it. As I said before, if he has worked out how to get into the extension where the heating controls are kept, he could go into another room which is heated to an acceptable overnight level (we don't want pipes to freeze and it's used several times a week) and we'd not know. If I wondered, I'd choose not to know.
Having said that, if I'd gone down tonight, as I did with the Fellow, and found a homeless person, I don't believe you'd think we'd have turned him away. I'd have explained, offered him the church room for the night, taken him breakfast in the morning and then spent as much time as was needed in helping him. There are shelters for the homeless in Lowestoft and Norwich - I'd take him there, but a local man might not want to go. There is a village charity that could give money. The Fellow and I went along just before 7 pm, and no one was there. I have turned off the boiler in the boiler house and he can't turn it on again. However, as we are both very concerned to think that someone might be cold tonight, I have left a note with my phone number. If he rings, I'll do all I possibly can to help, short of letting him into my home. I don't trust him, he's a thief. The Good Samaritan helped a traveller who had fallen among thieves.
Oh, and Dave (the Fellow) and I had a chat. "Do we need to spread this around?" I said. "Well, who needs to know?" he replied. "If people knew, they would get worried and want to lock the church." "I wouldn't want to turn anyone away."
So please, darlings, don't spread it around, because we are praying for this man (a woman would be better placed to receive help). He'll get help if he is able to stretch out his finger. I sort of don't expect to know how this ends.
First, our insurers, who specialise in church insurance, know that the church is unlocked night and day. We pay extra for it, but not extortionately - about 10% over a £2,000 (total cover) premium. You can get 25%, 50%, 75% and 100%, and it can be for a locked church, an 'open during the day and locked overnight' church or unlocked (if you'll excuse the expression) 24/7. We've gone for the full monty. When our tables were stolen from our unlocked church room, they paid out without question, even though it would have been not unreasonable for them to quibble. They didn't request that we locked the room either, though that would have been entirely reasonable.
Fire is a real anxiety in a church. There's a lot of wood; the pews, the roof timbers, quite apart from a rood screen, a reredos, the pulpit and lectern, any soft furnishings which might be used to start a fire. If a fire started, by arson or an electrical fault, it might go for hours before being seen. The walls themselves might survive but immense damage will have been done and ancient churches are listed at the highest level. Repairs would have to be done by specialists to the original specifications and the whole restoration would be a huge job. The stone walls would still stand, but they would be filthy and cracked, and do you remember the fires at York Minster and Windsor Castle? Restoration is an immense task.
It cost us £2,220 to heat and light the church and church rooms last year. We're not granted money, our regular congregation plus a trust fund (we're lucky there) paid for that, the insurance, the annual quota to the diocese that pays for our rector, the rectory and to fund the rector's retirement, as well as contribute to the cathedral's expenses. Et cetera. I have the accounts before me; we spent £41,000 in total last year (including donations to charity in this country and abroad) and there was a shortfall, we had to dip into our reserves. Please don't suggest that I'm unsympathetic to a homeless person, but heating that's normally on for 5 hours a week to be, without my knowledge (it's my responsibility as churchwarden) or permission, turned on every night for a total of anything from 50 to 100 hours a week can not be ignored. If someone came into your garden and drained the heating oil out of your tank, you'd call it theft. If someone tapped into your electricity supply and used ten times more than you did, but it went on your bill, you'd say he'd stolen it. As I said before, if he has worked out how to get into the extension where the heating controls are kept, he could go into another room which is heated to an acceptable overnight level (we don't want pipes to freeze and it's used several times a week) and we'd not know. If I wondered, I'd choose not to know.
Having said that, if I'd gone down tonight, as I did with the Fellow, and found a homeless person, I don't believe you'd think we'd have turned him away. I'd have explained, offered him the church room for the night, taken him breakfast in the morning and then spent as much time as was needed in helping him. There are shelters for the homeless in Lowestoft and Norwich - I'd take him there, but a local man might not want to go. There is a village charity that could give money. The Fellow and I went along just before 7 pm, and no one was there. I have turned off the boiler in the boiler house and he can't turn it on again. However, as we are both very concerned to think that someone might be cold tonight, I have left a note with my phone number. If he rings, I'll do all I possibly can to help, short of letting him into my home. I don't trust him, he's a thief. The Good Samaritan helped a traveller who had fallen among thieves.
Oh, and Dave (the Fellow) and I had a chat. "Do we need to spread this around?" I said. "Well, who needs to know?" he replied. "If people knew, they would get worried and want to lock the church." "I wouldn't want to turn anyone away."
So please, darlings, don't spread it around, because we are praying for this man (a woman would be better placed to receive help). He'll get help if he is able to stretch out his finger. I sort of don't expect to know how this ends.
Z may have to Accost an Intruder
I think we may have a lodger at the church. It occurred to me, after I'd written yesterday's post, that I might - incredible as it seems - be an awful idiot and, while thinking I'd set Saturday night's heating at 7pm-7pm (that is, not to come on at all) I might have put it to 7pm-7am, without noticing. So I went to check. I'd turned it to 'off' rather than 'timer' yesterday, so I knew it wouldn't have been on even if I'd been really silly.
But it had. I could feel the warmth as soon as I walked in, although it snowed last night and has been very cold all day. I touched the pipes and they were warm. Now, the thing is, the matter of the door being unlocked could have been a red herring. There's someone who goes in the church on a Friday or Saturday evening, no doubt for a quite legitimate purpose, who has access to the keys but who leaves the big doors unlocked. I haven't been able to find out who. But, and keep this under your hats please, there is a way of circumventing the lock and opening the door anyway (there won't be for much longer or I wouldn't write it down at all) and so it's quite possible that the person leaving the door unlocked and the person turning the boiler on are not one and the same. The only reason I can see for having the heating on overnight regularly is to warm the church to sleep in.
Yes, I've told the Fellow (or rather, as he's at work, his wife). And I've told the Sage. And I will go down tonight and check it out, but not on my own. I'm not timorous but I'm not incautious either. Actually, I suspect the Fellow will insist on going - though I've asked his wife that he should not go alone either.
And you know, I feel quite annoyed. I'm sorry if someone needs a place to sleep and has to go in the church and not unsympathetic to their situation. But spending a lot of someone else's money to heat a large building in that way is not on. If the person really needs shelter, there is a warm (storage heated) and carpeted room that he or she could use and I'd probably not even have found out. It is a matter of some importance to us that we give out the message that the church is open day and night and everyone, whether Christian or not, is welcome there. That importance leads us to accept the risk of vandalism or, indeed, the use of the place as a doss-house. But there's a limit, you know, and theft goes beyond it.
But it had. I could feel the warmth as soon as I walked in, although it snowed last night and has been very cold all day. I touched the pipes and they were warm. Now, the thing is, the matter of the door being unlocked could have been a red herring. There's someone who goes in the church on a Friday or Saturday evening, no doubt for a quite legitimate purpose, who has access to the keys but who leaves the big doors unlocked. I haven't been able to find out who. But, and keep this under your hats please, there is a way of circumventing the lock and opening the door anyway (there won't be for much longer or I wouldn't write it down at all) and so it's quite possible that the person leaving the door unlocked and the person turning the boiler on are not one and the same. The only reason I can see for having the heating on overnight regularly is to warm the church to sleep in.
Yes, I've told the Fellow (or rather, as he's at work, his wife). And I've told the Sage. And I will go down tonight and check it out, but not on my own. I'm not timorous but I'm not incautious either. Actually, I suspect the Fellow will insist on going - though I've asked his wife that he should not go alone either.
And you know, I feel quite annoyed. I'm sorry if someone needs a place to sleep and has to go in the church and not unsympathetic to their situation. But spending a lot of someone else's money to heat a large building in that way is not on. If the person really needs shelter, there is a warm (storage heated) and carpeted room that he or she could use and I'd probably not even have found out. It is a matter of some importance to us that we give out the message that the church is open day and night and everyone, whether Christian or not, is welcome there. That importance leads us to accept the risk of vandalism or, indeed, the use of the place as a doss-house. But there's a limit, you know, and theft goes beyond it.
Sunday, 4 January 2009
Z is hot under the choler
I went down to the church in good time today, because I knew there would be a lot of setting up to do. I said, a few weeks ago, that we were using the meeting room built on to the church for services for a couple of months, to save heating the church. We didn't have a service there at all last week as it was in another church (and I didn't go anyway) so when I went down there yesterday with the Sage to move a piece of heavy furniture, I was surprised to find that it was not absolutely freezing. I checked the timers on the heating and each day was set, correctly, for no heating time at all. So I supposed that I was just feeling the difference from outside's temperature and thought no more about it.
Today, the church felt even warmer. I felt the radiator and it was warm. I went to the heavy doors which lead to the extension and they were unlocked. We used to leave them unlocked until, several years ago, all our tables were stolen so since then, although the church itself is never locked, the extension is. As it was when I left it yesterday in the early afternoon.
This isn't the first time it has happened, but I've never been able to find out who unlocks the door and doesn't lock it again. Several people have the key to the place where keys are kept and I've asked around and sent emails but no one has owned up. This time, evidently, someone had unlocked the door, switched on the boiler, which takes several hours to heat the church and, later, switched it off again but not locked the door. It must have been overnight or early in the morning, as I should think it was switched off by 9 am. I can't understand it at all - why do it? It's a person trusted with a key, so not a random wanderer who needed a place to sleep and thought a heated church would be a nice place. In any case, the church room is carpeted and much warmer.
So, I went to start setting up the room for the service and found that the things I'd left out had all been put away. The table which we use for putting out the hymn books etc was folded up, or so I thought. When I put it up, I discovered that it was too long and that it had been swapped for a slightly shorter one. I had to move everything off that and swap them around again. I'd expected it to take a long time, but it was much more work than I'd anticipated. I didn't have time to practise the hymns. Fortunately, I can sight-read pretty well on the clarinet, so it was fine.
I would not wish to be the sort of person who puts up signs and notices telling people what to do. But it makes me feel a bit hmm that it doesn't occur to someone, if they move something, to put it back afterwards. It seems obvious to me that if I didn't do that, someone else would have to.
It was a lot colder by the time I came home than when I went out. Ro has just been to the petrol station to check the air in his tyres and he says the roads are glistening with frost. Fortunately, Al has kindly arranged that Tim will come in early to the shop on Monday and Tuesday so I don't have to, so I'll have an easy start to the week. I'm planning to cycle in every day (except Tuesday, when I have a morning meeting 20 miles away) but I make no promises.
Oh, and I've bought wool. Six balls, enough for Ro and me to make a scarf each (the mark of a Fine Resolution is when your child says "good idea, I'll do that too"). Actually, I have little idea how much wool one needs, but if there's some left over we can always make a hat. Or pool our wool and make a striped scarf for the Sage. Dilly found up her late granny's knitting needles, of which there are an impressive range, so I will cast on this afternoon.
Today, the church felt even warmer. I felt the radiator and it was warm. I went to the heavy doors which lead to the extension and they were unlocked. We used to leave them unlocked until, several years ago, all our tables were stolen so since then, although the church itself is never locked, the extension is. As it was when I left it yesterday in the early afternoon.
This isn't the first time it has happened, but I've never been able to find out who unlocks the door and doesn't lock it again. Several people have the key to the place where keys are kept and I've asked around and sent emails but no one has owned up. This time, evidently, someone had unlocked the door, switched on the boiler, which takes several hours to heat the church and, later, switched it off again but not locked the door. It must have been overnight or early in the morning, as I should think it was switched off by 9 am. I can't understand it at all - why do it? It's a person trusted with a key, so not a random wanderer who needed a place to sleep and thought a heated church would be a nice place. In any case, the church room is carpeted and much warmer.
So, I went to start setting up the room for the service and found that the things I'd left out had all been put away. The table which we use for putting out the hymn books etc was folded up, or so I thought. When I put it up, I discovered that it was too long and that it had been swapped for a slightly shorter one. I had to move everything off that and swap them around again. I'd expected it to take a long time, but it was much more work than I'd anticipated. I didn't have time to practise the hymns. Fortunately, I can sight-read pretty well on the clarinet, so it was fine.
I would not wish to be the sort of person who puts up signs and notices telling people what to do. But it makes me feel a bit hmm that it doesn't occur to someone, if they move something, to put it back afterwards. It seems obvious to me that if I didn't do that, someone else would have to.
It was a lot colder by the time I came home than when I went out. Ro has just been to the petrol station to check the air in his tyres and he says the roads are glistening with frost. Fortunately, Al has kindly arranged that Tim will come in early to the shop on Monday and Tuesday so I don't have to, so I'll have an easy start to the week. I'm planning to cycle in every day (except Tuesday, when I have a morning meeting 20 miles away) but I make no promises.
Oh, and I've bought wool. Six balls, enough for Ro and me to make a scarf each (the mark of a Fine Resolution is when your child says "good idea, I'll do that too"). Actually, I have little idea how much wool one needs, but if there's some left over we can always make a hat. Or pool our wool and make a striped scarf for the Sage. Dilly found up her late granny's knitting needles, of which there are an impressive range, so I will cast on this afternoon.
Saturday, 3 January 2009
Words and Bonds (you have to know Norwich shop history to understand that)
Well, the new dishwasher. You know I said that I felt it would be better to go to John Lewis than a random company on the internet, in case anything went wrong? I sort of didn't imagine it would be at the depot before the dishwasher even arrived here.
But let's go back a bit earlier. As you know, and most unusually for me, I'd done a bit of looking up on the internet. So I'd picked what I was likely to want before I arrived at the shop. In fact, there was little to choose between two machines, but both were on display so I peered inside them. I slightly preferred the interior arrangement of one and it was £10 more than the other and, with slight variations, they were much the same otherwise, so that was the one I picked. An assistant came and asked me if I wanted help - well, she asked Wink in fact as she was nearer - at just the time I was ready to order, so all was fine. I don't know if she had been seconded from another department - the white good department was quite busy - but she didn't seem awfully au fait with the goods, but that didn't matter. However, I had to ask about the included saucepans and then she scurried off to find out and then, after she'd given me all the paperwork, I asked about the 5 year guarantee. She assured me she'd given me the form. "This one says I have to pay £80, but it's included," I explained. She bobbed off to have another look, came back and agreed with me and found me another form. I thought she might have known that, as three of the four makes on display had that offer (JL's own brand didn't). I quietly checked everything else was correct, and it was. We agreed a delivery slot and off Wink and I went for a bowlful (each) of Nourishing Soup.
So, Friday came and the Sage agreed to stay home to await delivery of dishwasher, but in fact I was home by the time it arrived. The Sage received it and asked if our paperwork was needed. No, the driver had everything needed except the Sage's moniker.
Later, the Sage and Ro unpacked the dishwasher and left it in the hall while they went to disconnect the old one. I went to look at it. It was stainless steel when I'd expected white. I looked inside. It was the wrong model. I went and checked the packaging. It was still the wrong model.
"Hold you hard, bor" said I to the Sage and explained the situation.
This morning, I phoned the shop and the nice woman at the other end of the line was most apologetic. She said that they must have loaded on the wrong one at the depot. However, the Monday or Tuesday delivery slots I could have had are now full. A replacement will be delivered on Friday. I said how fortunate it was that we had opted to dispose of the present machine ourselves, so that I'll be able to use it for the next week. She apologised again. I was very nice about it under the circumstances. I did mention that it wasn't all that convenient and arranged that the driver would telephone the Sage with half an hour's notice, so that he doesn't have to hang around all morning.
Just as well that it happened to be a steel finish as otherwise I probably wouldn't have noticed until after it was plumbed in.
The saucepans are splendid, however. Stainless steel with really thick bottoms and a good heavy non-stick frying pan.
But let's go back a bit earlier. As you know, and most unusually for me, I'd done a bit of looking up on the internet. So I'd picked what I was likely to want before I arrived at the shop. In fact, there was little to choose between two machines, but both were on display so I peered inside them. I slightly preferred the interior arrangement of one and it was £10 more than the other and, with slight variations, they were much the same otherwise, so that was the one I picked. An assistant came and asked me if I wanted help - well, she asked Wink in fact as she was nearer - at just the time I was ready to order, so all was fine. I don't know if she had been seconded from another department - the white good department was quite busy - but she didn't seem awfully au fait with the goods, but that didn't matter. However, I had to ask about the included saucepans and then she scurried off to find out and then, after she'd given me all the paperwork, I asked about the 5 year guarantee. She assured me she'd given me the form. "This one says I have to pay £80, but it's included," I explained. She bobbed off to have another look, came back and agreed with me and found me another form. I thought she might have known that, as three of the four makes on display had that offer (JL's own brand didn't). I quietly checked everything else was correct, and it was. We agreed a delivery slot and off Wink and I went for a bowlful (each) of Nourishing Soup.
So, Friday came and the Sage agreed to stay home to await delivery of dishwasher, but in fact I was home by the time it arrived. The Sage received it and asked if our paperwork was needed. No, the driver had everything needed except the Sage's moniker.
Later, the Sage and Ro unpacked the dishwasher and left it in the hall while they went to disconnect the old one. I went to look at it. It was stainless steel when I'd expected white. I looked inside. It was the wrong model. I went and checked the packaging. It was still the wrong model.
"Hold you hard, bor" said I to the Sage and explained the situation.
This morning, I phoned the shop and the nice woman at the other end of the line was most apologetic. She said that they must have loaded on the wrong one at the depot. However, the Monday or Tuesday delivery slots I could have had are now full. A replacement will be delivered on Friday. I said how fortunate it was that we had opted to dispose of the present machine ourselves, so that I'll be able to use it for the next week. She apologised again. I was very nice about it under the circumstances. I did mention that it wasn't all that convenient and arranged that the driver would telephone the Sage with half an hour's notice, so that he doesn't have to hang around all morning.
Just as well that it happened to be a steel finish as otherwise I probably wouldn't have noticed until after it was plumbed in.
The saucepans are splendid, however. Stainless steel with really thick bottoms and a good heavy non-stick frying pan.
Friday, 2 January 2009
Z goes to a Hide
I walked twice in a year, never mind two days. This doesn't happen every year, you know - though if Simon inspires me to take up orienteering, maybe I'll be trotting round the countryside inspiringly from May to November in future.
Thanks for your other suggestions, and I'll consider them all. I haven't yet, so can't comment.
Dilly decided to go and look at birds at Minsmere this morning, and asked if I'd like to go with her and the children. I rarely turn down an invitation as you surely know, so I keenly went along, bearing a walking stick in case my hip gave out.
A walking stick isn't for me, you know. I think I shall get one of those poles such as hikers use. I could look keen rather than pathetic and it would be at least as much use.
Anyway, we saw an extremely chubby deer - we thought it was a sheep until we inspected through binoculars, some shovelers (possibly shelducks, I'm not too good on ducks) and a mallard (I recognise mallards), some birds that were too far away to identify, a blackbird (a bit bemused at the group of people with their binoculars out looking at him, unless there was something else there that we didn't notice), several chaffinches and bluetits. It was not a vintage bird-watching expedition but we all got Healthily Exercised.
On the way home, Pugsley had a thorough tantrum, brought on through tiredness. In the end, we ignored him until he fell asleep.
Weeza and family are home from the in-laws, having had a good time. Phil's brother visited with all three children, the eldest of whom has Asperger's Syndrome, the middle of whom is profoundly autistic and the youngest, who we all hope has no such afflictions. The disability comes from the mother's side of the family, fortunately for children of Weeza and Phil. Anyway, it was not a relaxed day but went pretty well.
Zerlina had her first solid food on Christmas Eve and has been enjoying it, in tiny amounts. A teaspoon a day is about it. However, it served to bung up her system for 8 whole days. In the 9th day, her nappy was almost exploded off her. "From her ears down", said her father, who did the second nappy change. Nothing since - they have stopped the baby rice and are giving her vegetable purées - and Weeza is wondering if this will be the pattern and if she should arrange not to go out every 8 days. Or, even better, to arrange for Granny to babysit on those occasions.
Tomorrow, if I get around to it, I shall buy some wool and cast on. If I remember how. I think a long scarf might be the sum total of my efforts, but as long as I feel that sense of achievement...
Thanks for your other suggestions, and I'll consider them all. I haven't yet, so can't comment.
Dilly decided to go and look at birds at Minsmere this morning, and asked if I'd like to go with her and the children. I rarely turn down an invitation as you surely know, so I keenly went along, bearing a walking stick in case my hip gave out.
A walking stick isn't for me, you know. I think I shall get one of those poles such as hikers use. I could look keen rather than pathetic and it would be at least as much use.
Anyway, we saw an extremely chubby deer - we thought it was a sheep until we inspected through binoculars, some shovelers (possibly shelducks, I'm not too good on ducks) and a mallard (I recognise mallards), some birds that were too far away to identify, a blackbird (a bit bemused at the group of people with their binoculars out looking at him, unless there was something else there that we didn't notice), several chaffinches and bluetits. It was not a vintage bird-watching expedition but we all got Healthily Exercised.
On the way home, Pugsley had a thorough tantrum, brought on through tiredness. In the end, we ignored him until he fell asleep.
Weeza and family are home from the in-laws, having had a good time. Phil's brother visited with all three children, the eldest of whom has Asperger's Syndrome, the middle of whom is profoundly autistic and the youngest, who we all hope has no such afflictions. The disability comes from the mother's side of the family, fortunately for children of Weeza and Phil. Anyway, it was not a relaxed day but went pretty well.
Zerlina had her first solid food on Christmas Eve and has been enjoying it, in tiny amounts. A teaspoon a day is about it. However, it served to bung up her system for 8 whole days. In the 9th day, her nappy was almost exploded off her. "From her ears down", said her father, who did the second nappy change. Nothing since - they have stopped the baby rice and are giving her vegetable purées - and Weeza is wondering if this will be the pattern and if she should arrange not to go out every 8 days. Or, even better, to arrange for Granny to babysit on those occasions.
Tomorrow, if I get around to it, I shall buy some wool and cast on. If I remember how. I think a long scarf might be the sum total of my efforts, but as long as I feel that sense of achievement...
Thursday, 1 January 2009
Z gets mud on her boots.
A most jolly party. We all arrived in time for a home-made cider stirrup cup and then piled on to a couple of trailers, to be hauled by tractors to our starting places. There were 80 or 90 of us altogether I should think; I was on the larger trailer (sitting cosily on a straw bale) with 47 others. Most people got off at the first stop for one of the longer walks, leaving only 15 or so wimps or wusses for the shortest walk (I'm one of them now), which we were told (I didn't measure it myself) was 2.89 miles.
It was a cold day but not freezing - about 3º, apparently (for any fact fans out there) and a bit dim and gloomy but fine. It was a good walk but I was glad that Clare and Ro were there to read the map as I'm not very observant and slightly dim. The last couple of hundred yards was across a ploughed field (I'm not sure if it is an actual footpath or whether permission is given by the farmer, but it was fairly well trodden) and our feet were soon weighted down by clods of clay.
As expected, there were lots of pans of delicious soup. I started with curried parsnip and pear, went on to onion and potato, progressed to red pepper and finished with turkey and vegetable, out of a choice of a dozen or more. We ate bread and cheese and chatted, it was a really comfortable and relaxed atmosphere. The youngest children to do the walk were 8 or 10, but a few younger children joined the party later. There were people of all ages from 3 to over 70, but the majority were in their 50s, like me, with offspring in their 20s, like Ro. Some of the youngsters I've known most of their lives and don't see often now and it's remarkable to see how they are growing to look like their parents. The younger ones and those who took breaks before going to university don't all have jobs, or casual ones, and are finding it hard to get anything better without experience, which they can't get. They don't seem disheartened.
Oh, and what entertained me in a fond sort of way was the way the young men greeted each other with a handshake. It struck me, maternal as I am, how mature and young they are at the same time.
It was a cold day but not freezing - about 3º, apparently (for any fact fans out there) and a bit dim and gloomy but fine. It was a good walk but I was glad that Clare and Ro were there to read the map as I'm not very observant and slightly dim. The last couple of hundred yards was across a ploughed field (I'm not sure if it is an actual footpath or whether permission is given by the farmer, but it was fairly well trodden) and our feet were soon weighted down by clods of clay.
As expected, there were lots of pans of delicious soup. I started with curried parsnip and pear, went on to onion and potato, progressed to red pepper and finished with turkey and vegetable, out of a choice of a dozen or more. We ate bread and cheese and chatted, it was a really comfortable and relaxed atmosphere. The youngest children to do the walk were 8 or 10, but a few younger children joined the party later. There were people of all ages from 3 to over 70, but the majority were in their 50s, like me, with offspring in their 20s, like Ro. Some of the youngsters I've known most of their lives and don't see often now and it's remarkable to see how they are growing to look like their parents. The younger ones and those who took breaks before going to university don't all have jobs, or casual ones, and are finding it hard to get anything better without experience, which they can't get. They don't seem disheartened.
Oh, and what entertained me in a fond sort of way was the way the young men greeted each other with a handshake. It struck me, maternal as I am, how mature and young they are at the same time.
Z makes vague and unstructured, and fairly well useless plans
I'm not looking for anything life-changing here. I am looking for some things to plan that I will enjoy, but that require a degree of effort on my part. I'm not going to put here anything that I'll feel a failure for if I don't do them. In essence, these are frivolous resolutions which, successfully completed, will please me but not really mean anything at all. Well, except for no. 4, because that involves other people, but that will also be done simply for a sense of achievement and for fun.
Here we go...
1. Learn at least one poem. Last June, I recited one, spontaneously and unexpectedly, from a theatre stage in front of 200 people. I had learned that when I was 15.
2. Knit something and wear it. I haven't knitted anything since teaching Ro to knit some 15 years ago.
3. Get to grips (in a listening sense) with a classical composer whose work I don't know much about.
4. Meet at least two fellow bloggers.
5. Do something I've never done before. Hm. That's a bit vague. I'd say, something unexpected or out of character, but I'm a bit easy going there and not quite sure what my character dictates. Any suggestions? I reserve the right to say no. Or maybe. Or jolly good idea but why don't you do it instead, sweetheart, and tell me all about it? Remember, it has to be enjoyable (by my definition) and essentially frivolous, but if I like the idea, I'll put in the effort.
Any suggestions for poems or composers will be earnestly considered. But don't feel obliged.
It's actually twenty past six on Wednesday evening, but I'll post-date this to after midnight, because - well, I might forget later, I might come back and add something though. If you have any ideas, go ahead. I'm quite open to suggestions.
Midnight + ten minutes - It is after midnight now and Ro and I are watching fireworks on the Thames. On television, that is. Goodnight, good morning and have a good year.
Here we go...
1. Learn at least one poem. Last June, I recited one, spontaneously and unexpectedly, from a theatre stage in front of 200 people. I had learned that when I was 15.
2. Knit something and wear it. I haven't knitted anything since teaching Ro to knit some 15 years ago.
3. Get to grips (in a listening sense) with a classical composer whose work I don't know much about.
4. Meet at least two fellow bloggers.
5. Do something I've never done before. Hm. That's a bit vague. I'd say, something unexpected or out of character, but I'm a bit easy going there and not quite sure what my character dictates. Any suggestions? I reserve the right to say no. Or maybe. Or jolly good idea but why don't you do it instead, sweetheart, and tell me all about it? Remember, it has to be enjoyable (by my definition) and essentially frivolous, but if I like the idea, I'll put in the effort.
Any suggestions for poems or composers will be earnestly considered. But don't feel obliged.
It's actually twenty past six on Wednesday evening, but I'll post-date this to after midnight, because - well, I might forget later, I might come back and add something though. If you have any ideas, go ahead. I'm quite open to suggestions.
Midnight + ten minutes - It is after midnight now and Ro and I are watching fireworks on the Thames. On television, that is. Goodnight, good morning and have a good year.
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Z feels warm and affectionate
A short post, because I'm thinking ahead and have done with this year already.
I have used the last of the Christmas joint, with a shepherd's pie (I suppose it should be lamb, but this is a beef shepherd's pie) and a casserole, and there is a panful of lovely beef stock from the bones in the fridge which must be used for something really delicious. I don't know what yet.
I laboured heavily into town - the coming of winter has made me realise I'm actually no fitter for a year's cycling and I was unable to get up the little (but awkward) hill to the post office, but had to get off and walk for the first time in many months. Although I've been home for two hours, I still haven't taken off my scarf and I feel like Rupert Bear, but without the checked trousers. Tilly is stretched out contentedly in front of the fire, which needs more coal put on soon. It will disturb her so I'll leave it for a few more minutes.
I am honing and polishing (that is, vaguely starting to contemplate) New Year Resolutions. I never had them before having a blog, but I do now. They will be small and achievable, but definite extras. I will be inspired by last autumn's learning of countries and their capitals. It gives me pleasure and satisfaction, when an African (for instance) country is mentioned, to place it, with its capital city, on a mental map, with the countries that surround it. I am vastly pleased to have learned the US state capitals, which I had thought was impossible.
I hope you have a wonderful evening, whether you see in the New Year (and remember the Leap Second) or are long asleep and I hope that 2009 will bring you everything you wish for. And thank you.
I have used the last of the Christmas joint, with a shepherd's pie (I suppose it should be lamb, but this is a beef shepherd's pie) and a casserole, and there is a panful of lovely beef stock from the bones in the fridge which must be used for something really delicious. I don't know what yet.
I laboured heavily into town - the coming of winter has made me realise I'm actually no fitter for a year's cycling and I was unable to get up the little (but awkward) hill to the post office, but had to get off and walk for the first time in many months. Although I've been home for two hours, I still haven't taken off my scarf and I feel like Rupert Bear, but without the checked trousers. Tilly is stretched out contentedly in front of the fire, which needs more coal put on soon. It will disturb her so I'll leave it for a few more minutes.
I am honing and polishing (that is, vaguely starting to contemplate) New Year Resolutions. I never had them before having a blog, but I do now. They will be small and achievable, but definite extras. I will be inspired by last autumn's learning of countries and their capitals. It gives me pleasure and satisfaction, when an African (for instance) country is mentioned, to place it, with its capital city, on a mental map, with the countries that surround it. I am vastly pleased to have learned the US state capitals, which I had thought was impossible.
I hope you have a wonderful evening, whether you see in the New Year (and remember the Leap Second) or are long asleep and I hope that 2009 will bring you everything you wish for. And thank you.
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Z stops thinking about one year and anticipates the next
Today is one deadline, tomorrow is another. So I'm doing all the paperwork today. Is that not impressive? Are you not, even now, thinking, 'ooh, that Z, never leaving it all until the last minute. How impressive is that'?
No, it's not truly splendid, is it.
The year always tails off somewhat for me. The couple of days when Christmas feels well over is a bit dull, when there's no excuse not to get on and tidy everything up and start getting back to the usual sort of routine, but I'm still a bit tired and lacking in verve. I always get up late, which means I have to go to bed late, and i waste a lot of time.
Tomorrow night will be spent with Al and Dilly. Her parents are coming over too, but I'm not sure how long they're staying. On Thursday, we'll go to friends for a walk and a party. We will be given a map and told that soup and cheese will await us on our return. There's usually a choice of two or three routes of varying lengths between two or three miles and ten or so. Until last year, I always did the longest walk but I've admitted defeat now and will do the shortest one, which is 2.8 miles this time. Several people make different soups, which are all fabulous. I think they spend the year trying out new recipes.
I must get back to work. I have to email out all the papers while it's still Tuesday.
No, it's not truly splendid, is it.
The year always tails off somewhat for me. The couple of days when Christmas feels well over is a bit dull, when there's no excuse not to get on and tidy everything up and start getting back to the usual sort of routine, but I'm still a bit tired and lacking in verve. I always get up late, which means I have to go to bed late, and i waste a lot of time.
Tomorrow night will be spent with Al and Dilly. Her parents are coming over too, but I'm not sure how long they're staying. On Thursday, we'll go to friends for a walk and a party. We will be given a map and told that soup and cheese will await us on our return. There's usually a choice of two or three routes of varying lengths between two or three miles and ten or so. Until last year, I always did the longest walk but I've admitted defeat now and will do the shortest one, which is 2.8 miles this time. Several people make different soups, which are all fabulous. I think they spend the year trying out new recipes.
I must get back to work. I have to email out all the papers while it's still Tuesday.
Monday, 29 December 2008
Z snuggles up with Tilly on the sofa
It's very quiet around here, as Wink has gone back home to Wiltshire and Weeza and Phil are visiting his parents in the Midlands. I thought you might like to see Zerlina enjoying her Christmas dinner.
I went over to buy the dishwasher and it'll be delivered on Friday afternoon (that was a non sequitur, by the way).
I shall be very busy next week when Al and family are on holiday, so I'll do as little as possible before then. Yes, I know it would be sensible to do lots of housework and cooking in advance. Not quite 'me' though, is it? - sensible, that is. I do have some things to do first, but they can wait until this evening at least.
That's about it. The Sage has just brought me a cup of tea. I shall cuddle my dog and read for an hour or so.
I went over to buy the dishwasher and it'll be delivered on Friday afternoon (that was a non sequitur, by the way).
I shall be very busy next week when Al and family are on holiday, so I'll do as little as possible before then. Yes, I know it would be sensible to do lots of housework and cooking in advance. Not quite 'me' though, is it? - sensible, that is. I do have some things to do first, but they can wait until this evening at least.
That's about it. The Sage has just brought me a cup of tea. I shall cuddle my dog and read for an hour or so.
Sunday, 28 December 2008
Z thanks her Dishwasher
I've been trying to work out how long I've had this dishwasher. I assumed it must have been the third one in 22 1/2 years, but I've found a guarantee going back to the 90s and have worked out that it's only the second.
When we moved here, I bought a Hotpoint. It cost in the region of £250 and I paid for a 5 year guarantee. In that time, it had repairs which would have cost about £280. It lurched on for another year or two before it packed in completely (one time, it broke down, full, on Christmas Day) but it was certainly enough to put me off that brand for life.
That means that the current Bosch dishwasher has lasted me, with very little problem at all, for about 16 years. It's only in the last few days that I've had to rinse cups etc before putting them in, normally it is fine, though recently not quite as good as it was. I remember buying it on the recommendation of friends who had been bemused to see how little I could put in the old one without washing quality going way down. I use it pretty well every day, sometimes twice.
So this one owes me nothing at all, and I'd be perfectly happy to buy one again, but Blue Witch, who does her research SO THAT I DON'T HAVE TO (thanks ever so, BW, xxx) says that Bosch and Siemens are owned by the same company but the latter is now better made.
I have been looking, so far, at models at the price I'm willing to pay (the JL website is useful for that because it gives a lot of information) and there seems to be little if anything to choose between them for energy and water consumption, noise and the various features.
If you've come here doing your own research, don't rely on me, I know nothin' about nothin' (it works better in a Norfolk accent). Go to one of the websites that does this sort of thing properly. Except, that I've been looking myself and what they don't mention, because they're reviewing current models, is longevity and that matters quite a lot to me.
When we moved here, I bought a Hotpoint. It cost in the region of £250 and I paid for a 5 year guarantee. In that time, it had repairs which would have cost about £280. It lurched on for another year or two before it packed in completely (one time, it broke down, full, on Christmas Day) but it was certainly enough to put me off that brand for life.
That means that the current Bosch dishwasher has lasted me, with very little problem at all, for about 16 years. It's only in the last few days that I've had to rinse cups etc before putting them in, normally it is fine, though recently not quite as good as it was. I remember buying it on the recommendation of friends who had been bemused to see how little I could put in the old one without washing quality going way down. I use it pretty well every day, sometimes twice.
So this one owes me nothing at all, and I'd be perfectly happy to buy one again, but Blue Witch, who does her research SO THAT I DON'T HAVE TO (thanks ever so, BW, xxx) says that Bosch and Siemens are owned by the same company but the latter is now better made.
I have been looking, so far, at models at the price I'm willing to pay (the JL website is useful for that because it gives a lot of information) and there seems to be little if anything to choose between them for energy and water consumption, noise and the various features.
If you've come here doing your own research, don't rely on me, I know nothin' about nothin' (it works better in a Norfolk accent). Go to one of the websites that does this sort of thing properly. Except, that I've been looking myself and what they don't mention, because they're reviewing current models, is longevity and that matters quite a lot to me.
Z is Going Shopping
Today is the obligatory quiet day when all the clearing up gets done. I said, more than a year ago, that I needed to buy a new dishwasher and intended to do so before Christmas. I didn't and it has kept going valiantly. Now, however - that is, over the last week - it is washing markedly less well, and everything has to be rinsed before going in. It's done very well but the time has come and the Sage and I will troop into Norwich tomorrow and inspect new dishwashers.
I'm doing a bit of online research beforehand. Some people enjoy this. I don't. I find it extremely boring. Like buying a car, there are certain features I want and some I don't, but otherwise I don't much care. I am inclined towards Siemens (which I think Blue Witch recommended) or Bosch (which I have). My present one has done well mechanically, but the interior fittings have not done so well and I'd want to be sure that they're durable now. However, they seem to have good reports for reliability. Looking at the descriptions, there seems to be little to differentiate between them, whatever the price. I assume that the cheaper ones are noisier and are not built to last so well.
Then there's the matter of whether to buy from a shop or online? I want to see the interior fittings before I choose, so I need to visit a shop, and it's morally unsound to use a shop and then not buy there. But there is a financial point at which one can feel ripped off, which can send one towards the internet. But then, what if there's something the matter with it? One knows one can trust John Lewis to put it right quickly.
Any recommendations gratefully received. I'm happy to balance service given against money spent; I don't want to be responsible for more shops going to the wall. But if I'm to deal with them, they have to be worth saving. Likewise the manufacturers.
Which reminds me, if the government has been trying to force us to buy smaller and more economical cars, why are they now contemplating financially baling out Jaguars and Range Rovers?
I'm doing a bit of online research beforehand. Some people enjoy this. I don't. I find it extremely boring. Like buying a car, there are certain features I want and some I don't, but otherwise I don't much care. I am inclined towards Siemens (which I think Blue Witch recommended) or Bosch (which I have). My present one has done well mechanically, but the interior fittings have not done so well and I'd want to be sure that they're durable now. However, they seem to have good reports for reliability. Looking at the descriptions, there seems to be little to differentiate between them, whatever the price. I assume that the cheaper ones are noisier and are not built to last so well.
Then there's the matter of whether to buy from a shop or online? I want to see the interior fittings before I choose, so I need to visit a shop, and it's morally unsound to use a shop and then not buy there. But there is a financial point at which one can feel ripped off, which can send one towards the internet. But then, what if there's something the matter with it? One knows one can trust John Lewis to put it right quickly.
Any recommendations gratefully received. I'm happy to balance service given against money spent; I don't want to be responsible for more shops going to the wall. But if I'm to deal with them, they have to be worth saving. Likewise the manufacturers.
Which reminds me, if the government has been trying to force us to buy smaller and more economical cars, why are they now contemplating financially baling out Jaguars and Range Rovers?
Saturday, 27 December 2008
Oh yes, they are
Still on the Lord of the Rings, we played LOTR Trivial Pursuit this evening. Ro's had it for several years - he and his housemates got it when they were at university and he was the one who ended up with it. One really has to be quite au fait with the films, and most of us aren't. Most amusing.
There were 12 of us for lunch as Susie joined us. Haven't seen her since Weeza and Phil's wedding, so it was excellent. Our families have known each other forever - my father was best man at her grandfather's wedding. She was telling us that recently she and the girl she shares a house with came out of their house to find a dead man on the doorstep - literally. She said that they nearly slammed the door shut and pretended it hadn't happened. Then, he was right against her car door so she had to climb in through the passenger side. I said "But didn't you call an ambulance or anything?" I'd come in on the conversation part way through. It transpired that the paramedics were already there. It was a gruesome tale, and really, it's just the sort of thing that would happen to Susie and practically no one else. She said that it wasn't in the paper and she didn't know what had happened, whether it was a heart attack, overdose, mugging - they hadn't heard anything.
Zerlina was trying some baby rice and enjoying the experience. She sat happily in her high chair, while the other two were at the other end of the table, in dining chairs with arms, on two cushions. I hadn't got more vegetables in than I'd planned for when I thought there would be 4 adults and a baby rather than 9 adults, 2 toddlers and a baby, except for doing a whole lot more roast potatoes and so there were not loads of leftovers. I was glad of the little table-top cooker I usually only use during the summer when the Aga's off, as it was such a huge piece of beef that it took up the whole height of the oven and there was no room for the spuds. I'd have had to juggle between top and bottom ovens (top is hot, bottom is warm), but as it was, the joint rested while I cooked the Yorkshire pudding and all was fine.
Tomorrow, one of Al's customers is throwing her big annual Christmas/birthday/teddy bear's party. She and the bear will be 92 years old. Usually it's on a Saturday and Al can't go, but this time he's able to, so I've said I'll stay home and look after the children. Although we'd all be welcome, and the Sage, Dilly and Ro will go, it'll be simpler for the children to stay at home and they haven't had much time to play with their presents yet. Later, they are going to the pantomime in Norwich.
There were 12 of us for lunch as Susie joined us. Haven't seen her since Weeza and Phil's wedding, so it was excellent. Our families have known each other forever - my father was best man at her grandfather's wedding. She was telling us that recently she and the girl she shares a house with came out of their house to find a dead man on the doorstep - literally. She said that they nearly slammed the door shut and pretended it hadn't happened. Then, he was right against her car door so she had to climb in through the passenger side. I said "But didn't you call an ambulance or anything?" I'd come in on the conversation part way through. It transpired that the paramedics were already there. It was a gruesome tale, and really, it's just the sort of thing that would happen to Susie and practically no one else. She said that it wasn't in the paper and she didn't know what had happened, whether it was a heart attack, overdose, mugging - they hadn't heard anything.
Zerlina was trying some baby rice and enjoying the experience. She sat happily in her high chair, while the other two were at the other end of the table, in dining chairs with arms, on two cushions. I hadn't got more vegetables in than I'd planned for when I thought there would be 4 adults and a baby rather than 9 adults, 2 toddlers and a baby, except for doing a whole lot more roast potatoes and so there were not loads of leftovers. I was glad of the little table-top cooker I usually only use during the summer when the Aga's off, as it was such a huge piece of beef that it took up the whole height of the oven and there was no room for the spuds. I'd have had to juggle between top and bottom ovens (top is hot, bottom is warm), but as it was, the joint rested while I cooked the Yorkshire pudding and all was fine.
Tomorrow, one of Al's customers is throwing her big annual Christmas/birthday/teddy bear's party. She and the bear will be 92 years old. Usually it's on a Saturday and Al can't go, but this time he's able to, so I've said I'll stay home and look after the children. Although we'd all be welcome, and the Sage, Dilly and Ro will go, it'll be simpler for the children to stay at home and they haven't had much time to play with their presents yet. Later, they are going to the pantomime in Norwich.
Friday, 26 December 2008
Z is Sixteen, but not at all Sweet
I didn't get anything done this morning, and then Wink arrived so I didn't even start on the paperwork. Pfft. It'll be done. But I'm sorry if you've emailed me and I haven't replied yet. I haven't replied to anyone, but not because I don't appreciate the letters, and thank you.
What I have done is prepare vegetables for tomorrow's lunch. I'd meant to lay the table, but the last light bulb blew, and the ones in that room are the screw-in sort which we never remember to buy more of. So the Sage will be despatched into town tomorrow to get some. Our dining room is on the north end of the house and the windows face west, so it's a bit subdued-lightingish in there. We had dinner in the kitchen tonight. As we did last week when the lovely Dave came for lunch, as the dining room fire decided not to draw properly and it was too damn cold. He had to gaze upon my untidy shelves and piles of cookbooks, but was far too polite to notice.
Ah yes, Wink said something earlier and I said "I'll blog that!" and then I forgot, but luckily Ro didn't - and filled with the Christmas (and whisky) spirit, he kindly reminded me when I asked.
We were talking about films and books and stuff, and she reminded me of her affection for Harry Potter films. I confessed that I've never stayed awake through the Christmas showing of one and that they are not my cup of tea. She said that she likes the Lord of the Rings films too. I agreed there, but I've always liked the books. She said she hadn't got further than the first 20 pages. We debated this generally for a bit, and she said that she's not very grown-up. Reminding her of my taste in humour (such as Harry Hill's TV Burp, far too unsophisticated for her) and music, I puzzled our relative childishnesses.
"The difference is," she said, "my mind is about 12, while yours has stuck at the age of 16."
What I have done is prepare vegetables for tomorrow's lunch. I'd meant to lay the table, but the last light bulb blew, and the ones in that room are the screw-in sort which we never remember to buy more of. So the Sage will be despatched into town tomorrow to get some. Our dining room is on the north end of the house and the windows face west, so it's a bit subdued-lightingish in there. We had dinner in the kitchen tonight. As we did last week when the lovely Dave came for lunch, as the dining room fire decided not to draw properly and it was too damn cold. He had to gaze upon my untidy shelves and piles of cookbooks, but was far too polite to notice.
Ah yes, Wink said something earlier and I said "I'll blog that!" and then I forgot, but luckily Ro didn't - and filled with the Christmas (and whisky) spirit, he kindly reminded me when I asked.
We were talking about films and books and stuff, and she reminded me of her affection for Harry Potter films. I confessed that I've never stayed awake through the Christmas showing of one and that they are not my cup of tea. She said that she likes the Lord of the Rings films too. I agreed there, but I've always liked the books. She said she hadn't got further than the first 20 pages. We debated this generally for a bit, and she said that she's not very grown-up. Reminding her of my taste in humour (such as Harry Hill's TV Burp, far too unsophisticated for her) and music, I puzzled our relative childishnesses.
"The difference is," she said, "my mind is about 12, while yours has stuck at the age of 16."
Thursday, 25 December 2008
Z only drank three glasses of wine all day
I got up a bit late this morning, feeling very relaxed as there was no cooking to be done. Actually, there was in the end as I decided to make a Proper Pudding (not the Christmas one as we'll have it on Saturday)., but the rest was just assembling. I strolled downstairs sometime around 9 o'clock, and then remembered the church service at 10, for which I planned to do the setting up. I worked extremely fast for a bit, bossing the poor Sage around ruthlessly - it's not often that I properly get my arse in gear, but I can be very efficient - and I left him still wrapping the last of the presents which I hadn't done last night. Or rather, this morning. I've found as I get old and frivolous that I need time to wind down in the evening and I can't go straight to bed when I get home late any more, so it was 2 o'clock when I finally shambled bathwards.
All was under control by the time Zerlina and family arrived - Phil was well enough to come and improved during the day, though still somewhat snuffly. Zerlina had a great time, sitting in her high chair at lunch time, playing with her new toys and enjoying her baby bouncer for the first time. Weeza was thrilled to read Miff Heehog to her, as well as put her in the baby bouncer. There is a hook in the beam in the drawing room ceiling and has been for 34 years, when she was a baby herself and had a similar bouncer, which she loved.
Squiffany and Pugsley and their parents came in for an hour or so, before going off for lunch with Dilly's parents, so there was a big present-opening session. They are staying in Norwich overnight with Al's in-laws, so they'll have time to look at them all and play with them. Then they're going over to Weeza's house and they'll all spend the day together. Wink has spent Christmas with the Bod and his mum and she'll arrive some time tomorrow.
I've got a lot of emails to reply to tomorrow, and some paperwork to start on - it's got to be done by Tuesday but I want a free weekend. If I have the sense to get on with it promptly, two good sessions will see it through. More likely, I'll faff around a bit at a time for days.
All was under control by the time Zerlina and family arrived - Phil was well enough to come and improved during the day, though still somewhat snuffly. Zerlina had a great time, sitting in her high chair at lunch time, playing with her new toys and enjoying her baby bouncer for the first time. Weeza was thrilled to read Miff Heehog to her, as well as put her in the baby bouncer. There is a hook in the beam in the drawing room ceiling and has been for 34 years, when she was a baby herself and had a similar bouncer, which she loved.
Squiffany and Pugsley and their parents came in for an hour or so, before going off for lunch with Dilly's parents, so there was a big present-opening session. They are staying in Norwich overnight with Al's in-laws, so they'll have time to look at them all and play with them. Then they're going over to Weeza's house and they'll all spend the day together. Wink has spent Christmas with the Bod and his mum and she'll arrive some time tomorrow.
I've got a lot of emails to reply to tomorrow, and some paperwork to start on - it's got to be done by Tuesday but I want a free weekend. If I have the sense to get on with it promptly, two good sessions will see it through. More likely, I'll faff around a bit at a time for days.
Z has more holes than she did have
3 Communion services and a carol service in 6 hours. Gosh. I can't go to bed yet, I need to recover a bit first.
Have fun, everyone, and a lovely Christmas.
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
Z is Even Calmer, now that she's Postponed Christmas
I've just been talking to Weeza on the phone. Phil has come down with a bad cold that may be 'flu. He went in to work for the morning and should be home soon - he felt able to make the 4+ mile bike ride, which he probably wouldn't be up to if it is 'flu, so let's hope for the best.
He's going to spend the rest of the day in bed and see how it goes. If he's not feeling up to much, he won't come over with Weeza and Zerlina tomorrow - also, he doesn't want to pass on nasty germs to us.
So, I pondered briefly. It was just going to be the six of us, the Sage, me, Ro, Weeza, Phil and Zerlina. However, on Friday, Wink is due to arrive and on Saturday Al, Dilly, Squiffany and Pugsley are coming for lunch.
"How would it be if we postponed Christmas dinner until Saturday?" I suggested. "Hopefully, Phil will be better by then and we could all be together. I've got all sorts of things, which I was planning to do for a relaxed Saturday meal, like pâté, smoked salmon, cheeses, salads and things, and we could have them for lunch tomorrow instead."
Weeza thought it was a fine idea. They will have to leave by 2.15 as they're going to a party, and a friend of hers may be coming over, but she can come here (we've known her forever and she won't feel out of place with us all) and our 12lb rib of beef will stretch for us all. I think it'll be 9 adults and 3 children, one a baby, if Susie comes, and the table seats 12 and I have polished all the cutlery already. It'll be just as easy to feed 12 as 6. It isn't like having turkey again, they won't have had beef so it will still be special. We can be really relaxed all day here tomorrow, and chilling, opening presents, relaxing and having fun can be the focus of the day rather than the big meal. On Saturday, I'll aim to serve up at about 12.30 so we don't rush the meal.
Oh, and I don't think I've mentioned that Al has decided to shut the shop for 4 whole days. This has never happened before, and he wishes Christmas could be on Thursday every year. He doesn't think he'd be selling much on Saturday and he's warned all his customers so they won't come in and be frustrated.
The tree is up. I'll get out the decorations and leave it for Ro to decorate.
He's going to spend the rest of the day in bed and see how it goes. If he's not feeling up to much, he won't come over with Weeza and Zerlina tomorrow - also, he doesn't want to pass on nasty germs to us.
So, I pondered briefly. It was just going to be the six of us, the Sage, me, Ro, Weeza, Phil and Zerlina. However, on Friday, Wink is due to arrive and on Saturday Al, Dilly, Squiffany and Pugsley are coming for lunch.
"How would it be if we postponed Christmas dinner until Saturday?" I suggested. "Hopefully, Phil will be better by then and we could all be together. I've got all sorts of things, which I was planning to do for a relaxed Saturday meal, like pâté, smoked salmon, cheeses, salads and things, and we could have them for lunch tomorrow instead."
Weeza thought it was a fine idea. They will have to leave by 2.15 as they're going to a party, and a friend of hers may be coming over, but she can come here (we've known her forever and she won't feel out of place with us all) and our 12lb rib of beef will stretch for us all. I think it'll be 9 adults and 3 children, one a baby, if Susie comes, and the table seats 12 and I have polished all the cutlery already. It'll be just as easy to feed 12 as 6. It isn't like having turkey again, they won't have had beef so it will still be special. We can be really relaxed all day here tomorrow, and chilling, opening presents, relaxing and having fun can be the focus of the day rather than the big meal. On Saturday, I'll aim to serve up at about 12.30 so we don't rush the meal.
Oh, and I don't think I've mentioned that Al has decided to shut the shop for 4 whole days. This has never happened before, and he wishes Christmas could be on Thursday every year. He doesn't think he'd be selling much on Saturday and he's warned all his customers so they won't come in and be frustrated.
The tree is up. I'll get out the decorations and leave it for Ro to decorate.
Z is Surprisingly Calm
I've had two breakfasts four hours apart, worked in between times and had a good nap. Next, I'll call round to elderly friends and (if they're in) be given sherry and a mince pie. After that, if the Sage is home, we'll put up the Christmas tree and if not I'll wrap the presents. Phil's has arrived; some books for Zerlina haven't but there's still time for a last delivery, if that's what the Post Office does nowadays and if not, a 4-month-old won't mind if she hasn't got quite enough to read. Her mother can always read her Miff Heehog in any case.
I hope you have a lovely Christmas and thank you all for being there.
Z xx
I hope you have a lovely Christmas and thank you all for being there.
Z xx
In a nutshell
"The deep, deep longing that people have for hope." Bishop Desmond Tutu on the Today programme on Radio 4 this morning.
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
Z is Cheery
I was just getting up at 5 o'clock this morning when I heard Al's van start. I dressed and breakfasted and joined him in the shop half an hour later. We stacked shelves and got things ready until 8, when the second delivery van turned up and we started all over again. I had to leave to be ready to babysit in time for Dilly's 9 o'clock hair appointment. This afternoon, I went into town again and Al was making up a fruit basket, so I took over serving to help out. I went back at 5 to help him pack up. There are people in the town who have assumed I spent the whole day working there, but it's only Al who can cope with that. He's back there now, making up orders for the morning, with the salad, grapes and other more perishable items to be added from tomorrow's new stock. Tim is helping tonight, which is good.
I trotted along and bought the last of the presents, but the Sage and I have both admitted that we haven't found what we wanted for each other, so we'll have to hit the shops sometime together and mutually spoil ourselves. We're not bothered. I am waiting for one more postal delivery - it's not overdue, I ordered it at the last minute - and Phil's presents will be a bit meagre if it doesn't turn up. I hope Dilly likes what I've bought her, as I quite badly wanted to keep it for myself. I did buy a pair of trousers though. I said to the shop owner that I will probably have to take them up a bit and she suggested I wash them before wearing them in case they shrink a little. I agreed, but frankly do I look the sort of woman who washes clean clothes? I'll just wear them a bit long until they need washing and then see. I'll probably wear them tomorrow for my organ-fest. Did I tell you about that? Probably. I'm playing simultaneous organ and clarinet for our own carol service at 6, then whipping down the road for a service at 10 and then another in the next village at 11.30. I am going to schedule a nap in the afternoon, I may be a fool but I'm not an idiot.
Anyhoo, all seems to be sorted. I haven't wrapped anything yet, but that's more fun done at the last minute. We haven't got the tree up yet come to that, but plenty of time for that tomorrow. We keep the tree up throughout Christmas until Twelfth Night, so there will be a whole fortnight to get the pleasure or possibly have had enough of it. Actually, it might come down a couple of days early on Sunday 4th, as I'll be too busy after that as Al and his family will be on holiday.
I've made a final three wreaths - one was ordered and I might as well do a couple more. I expect Al will sell them and if not I'll find a home for them.
I got all high and happy this afternoon. It entertained the customers mightily.
I trotted along and bought the last of the presents, but the Sage and I have both admitted that we haven't found what we wanted for each other, so we'll have to hit the shops sometime together and mutually spoil ourselves. We're not bothered. I am waiting for one more postal delivery - it's not overdue, I ordered it at the last minute - and Phil's presents will be a bit meagre if it doesn't turn up. I hope Dilly likes what I've bought her, as I quite badly wanted to keep it for myself. I did buy a pair of trousers though. I said to the shop owner that I will probably have to take them up a bit and she suggested I wash them before wearing them in case they shrink a little. I agreed, but frankly do I look the sort of woman who washes clean clothes? I'll just wear them a bit long until they need washing and then see. I'll probably wear them tomorrow for my organ-fest. Did I tell you about that? Probably. I'm playing simultaneous organ and clarinet for our own carol service at 6, then whipping down the road for a service at 10 and then another in the next village at 11.30. I am going to schedule a nap in the afternoon, I may be a fool but I'm not an idiot.
Anyhoo, all seems to be sorted. I haven't wrapped anything yet, but that's more fun done at the last minute. We haven't got the tree up yet come to that, but plenty of time for that tomorrow. We keep the tree up throughout Christmas until Twelfth Night, so there will be a whole fortnight to get the pleasure or possibly have had enough of it. Actually, it might come down a couple of days early on Sunday 4th, as I'll be too busy after that as Al and his family will be on holiday.
I've made a final three wreaths - one was ordered and I might as well do a couple more. I expect Al will sell them and if not I'll find a home for them.
I got all high and happy this afternoon. It entertained the customers mightily.
Monday, 22 December 2008
Z displays rather more self-assurance than is warranted
Oh darlings, two posts in a day, and you can hardly believe your luck. Or can you?
i realise that I've relaxed into Christmas, which is all well and good but I've done it a couple of days early. You see, I've always had it as a rule that the deadline is the end of the day before Christmas Eve. CE counts as Christmas and besides, it leaves space for sorting out problems. A secondary deadline, if you see what I mean.
Of course, this rule applied long before Al had his shop, when CE (excuse the familiarity; I know I could copy'n'paste Christmas Eve but the repetition would pall on us all) became his busiest day of the year, but business is excluded. So is church-related stuff. Gradually, CE has become a very busy day for me too, but still a relaxed one, as all should be under control and it's too late to do much about it anyway.
Today, I got up far too early, as you know, and actually had got a lot done by mid-morning. I went into town after lunch and first of all (flouting a whole raft of traffic rules - oh, the joys of being on a bike and going the wrong way round the roundabout and the wrong way down a one-way street) visited Al for veggies. He was serving a customer. When said customer left, he wondered if I had a few minutes? He had a lot of orders to write in his book. Well, this was no problem as I wanted to talk to him about the demands of customers' orders anyway. We talked. I served. He listed. It all took an hour or so. It was a good job I'd brought a light for my bike.
Finally I left, and didn't do the shopping I'd intended except to go to the hardware shop and buy a new tea infuser to tide me over until I find the one I've mislaid. *Sigh* It'll turn up. Then I freewheeled down the hill and had to stop at the junction and then go uphill again to the Little Green Shop. I didn't half wobble. I don't usually take that hill from halfway up with a couple of stone of veggies in my panniers. Still, I made it and went and stocked up on Highly Desirable chocolate, some of which might even be reserved for myself, hem hem.
You can tell how relaxed I am. I had dinner in the bag already; or at any rate in a handsome blue-enamelled Le Creuset casserole dish. But I haven't wrapped anything and a couple of family members haven't actually got much in the way of presents yet. I'm confident it'll all work out.
Oh, and my charming lunch companion from Thursday brought wine. As it was a special occasion - the Eating of the Lost Venison - the bottle has been broached. It's very good. I've drunk two glassfuls already.
i realise that I've relaxed into Christmas, which is all well and good but I've done it a couple of days early. You see, I've always had it as a rule that the deadline is the end of the day before Christmas Eve. CE counts as Christmas and besides, it leaves space for sorting out problems. A secondary deadline, if you see what I mean.
Of course, this rule applied long before Al had his shop, when CE (excuse the familiarity; I know I could copy'n'paste Christmas Eve but the repetition would pall on us all) became his busiest day of the year, but business is excluded. So is church-related stuff. Gradually, CE has become a very busy day for me too, but still a relaxed one, as all should be under control and it's too late to do much about it anyway.
Today, I got up far too early, as you know, and actually had got a lot done by mid-morning. I went into town after lunch and first of all (flouting a whole raft of traffic rules - oh, the joys of being on a bike and going the wrong way round the roundabout and the wrong way down a one-way street) visited Al for veggies. He was serving a customer. When said customer left, he wondered if I had a few minutes? He had a lot of orders to write in his book. Well, this was no problem as I wanted to talk to him about the demands of customers' orders anyway. We talked. I served. He listed. It all took an hour or so. It was a good job I'd brought a light for my bike.
Finally I left, and didn't do the shopping I'd intended except to go to the hardware shop and buy a new tea infuser to tide me over until I find the one I've mislaid. *Sigh* It'll turn up. Then I freewheeled down the hill and had to stop at the junction and then go uphill again to the Little Green Shop. I didn't half wobble. I don't usually take that hill from halfway up with a couple of stone of veggies in my panniers. Still, I made it and went and stocked up on Highly Desirable chocolate, some of which might even be reserved for myself, hem hem.
You can tell how relaxed I am. I had dinner in the bag already; or at any rate in a handsome blue-enamelled Le Creuset casserole dish. But I haven't wrapped anything and a couple of family members haven't actually got much in the way of presents yet. I'm confident it'll all work out.
Oh, and my charming lunch companion from Thursday brought wine. As it was a special occasion - the Eating of the Lost Venison - the bottle has been broached. It's very good. I've drunk two glassfuls already.
Z finds the Venison
The five o'clock bulletin - I just opened the fridge to put in the soup from last night, which had still been warm so had been left in the cold larder. There was the missing venison. Right there in plain view.
I'd checked the fridge three times for it, moving everything to make sure it wasn't lurking. I've opened the fridge innumerable times since to get things out or put them in. That venison was not there. Now it is. Well, it isn't any more. I've taken it out and if it's still fit to be eaten, I'll make a casserole and if it isn't, I'll throw it away.
It wasn't there. I looked properly. Then it was. I have no explanation.
---------------------------------------------------------
It is now 5.50am. The venison was fine. No apparent deterioration took place during its period of dematerialisation. I made a casserole with the vegetables I had - I'd used some of the ones I'd planned to add during the past couple of days. So it has in it onions, shallots, carrots and a tin of tomatoes, as well as red wine. Now it reposes, cooking gently, in the bottom oven where it will stay for the next couple of hours or more.
I'm eating porridge now. I had a most restful afternoon and evening. I made soup, from onions, celeriac and a stray turnip and decided to watch a film whilst making wreaths. In the mood for amusement, I picked The Hudsucker Proxy, which screwball comedy bears re-watching every so often. I started wreathing and finished as the film ended, having used up all my materials and made five wreaths.
After dinner, I turned the lights off and lit some candles. No, I lit a candle first, then turned the lights off, then lit the other candles. It was very relaxing. I listened to music, chatted to the Sage, read blogs - I've caught up with feed-reader saved posts - and read the paper; this last a bit slowly as I could only see a bit of the page at a time. In between whiles, the Sage was making phone calls. I think he must have flagged on the card writing, and was ringing friends instead. As good if not better, to speak to people whom we rarely see.
I was in bed by 11.30, asleep an hour later and awake two hours after that. At 5 o'clock, I gave up on attempting to sleep and got dressed. After breakfast, I'll polish the cutlery. It can do with it, and I'd be pushed to have another opportunity.
It is 3 minutes past 6. This will be a long day. At least we're past the shortest, so more of it will be light than yesterday was.
I'd checked the fridge three times for it, moving everything to make sure it wasn't lurking. I've opened the fridge innumerable times since to get things out or put them in. That venison was not there. Now it is. Well, it isn't any more. I've taken it out and if it's still fit to be eaten, I'll make a casserole and if it isn't, I'll throw it away.
It wasn't there. I looked properly. Then it was. I have no explanation.
---------------------------------------------------------
It is now 5.50am. The venison was fine. No apparent deterioration took place during its period of dematerialisation. I made a casserole with the vegetables I had - I'd used some of the ones I'd planned to add during the past couple of days. So it has in it onions, shallots, carrots and a tin of tomatoes, as well as red wine. Now it reposes, cooking gently, in the bottom oven where it will stay for the next couple of hours or more.
I'm eating porridge now. I had a most restful afternoon and evening. I made soup, from onions, celeriac and a stray turnip and decided to watch a film whilst making wreaths. In the mood for amusement, I picked The Hudsucker Proxy, which screwball comedy bears re-watching every so often. I started wreathing and finished as the film ended, having used up all my materials and made five wreaths.
After dinner, I turned the lights off and lit some candles. No, I lit a candle first, then turned the lights off, then lit the other candles. It was very relaxing. I listened to music, chatted to the Sage, read blogs - I've caught up with feed-reader saved posts - and read the paper; this last a bit slowly as I could only see a bit of the page at a time. In between whiles, the Sage was making phone calls. I think he must have flagged on the card writing, and was ringing friends instead. As good if not better, to speak to people whom we rarely see.
I was in bed by 11.30, asleep an hour later and awake two hours after that. At 5 o'clock, I gave up on attempting to sleep and got dressed. After breakfast, I'll polish the cutlery. It can do with it, and I'd be pushed to have another opportunity.
It is 3 minutes past 6. This will be a long day. At least we're past the shortest, so more of it will be light than yesterday was.
Sunday, 21 December 2008
Z gives peace a chance
I realised, when I arrived home, how tense and overwrought I felt. I poured a glass of wine, scrambled some eggs, which I ate with virtuously unbuttered toast, and am looking forward to a nice glass of buttermilk. The diet continues but is tempered with sensible nutritious enjoyment of food. Fourteen months ago, I'd have hit the chocolate biscuits. Not that I've a thing against chocolate, but nowadays it would be a single square of extremely good dark chocolate which would satisfy without increasing the craving. I don't have chocolate or biscuits in the house at present anyway, so it doesn't arise.
Particularly since several other bloggers have referred to it too, I've been particularly looking forward to today's Winter Solstice. I've always found December difficult and I know many others do too. It's an incredibly busy month when we're at our physically lowest ebb, with dark days and the bugs and viruses of winter kicking in. It only slowly improves - after all, January is as dark as December - but it's looking forward to the light so it feels better. And if we're lucky enough to have snow, the reflection of light doubles its effect. I don't become depressed in the winter, but I do have very little energy.
I love the idea of Candle Night and I'll be following it this evening. It's come at exactly the right time for me, when an evening of candle-lit tranquillity will, I hope, prepare me for a busy week. Thank you, Blue Witch, for drawing it to my attention.
I'll spend the afternoon making holly wreaths, and I hope that there won't be too many of them to do after that. The Sage has been writing Christmas cards. I agree that they matter in one sense, but not in another. It's like money - it's not important, or shouldn't be, unless you don't have any at all. I hope that those people who don't get a card from us, or receive it late, will have had so many that we won't be missed.
There's been a degree of negativity around me (not in the family, and not among my blogging friends) that I've been finding it hard to rise above*, of late. As I see myself as a peacemaker and calmer-down of agitation, I try to absorb the stress of others, in an endeavour to help them cope**. Trouble shared is a trouble halved and all that. Whilst I'm not near the stage of being unable to do that, I'm finding it harder than usual to absorb and dissipate negative feelings, especially if I can't actually do anything to help in a practical sense.
So, today, I'll take an emotional break. I'll tranquilly make the holly wreaths in front of an unnecessary fire (for it's a mild day) and hug my Sage and my dog (not together, Chester loved group hugs but Tilly is less outgoing) and then enjoy a candle-lit evening.
*Ooh, dodgy grammar alert!
**This does not necessarily apply in my immediate family, where I reserve the right to be a drama queen and the centre of needy attention.
Particularly since several other bloggers have referred to it too, I've been particularly looking forward to today's Winter Solstice. I've always found December difficult and I know many others do too. It's an incredibly busy month when we're at our physically lowest ebb, with dark days and the bugs and viruses of winter kicking in. It only slowly improves - after all, January is as dark as December - but it's looking forward to the light so it feels better. And if we're lucky enough to have snow, the reflection of light doubles its effect. I don't become depressed in the winter, but I do have very little energy.
I love the idea of Candle Night and I'll be following it this evening. It's come at exactly the right time for me, when an evening of candle-lit tranquillity will, I hope, prepare me for a busy week. Thank you, Blue Witch, for drawing it to my attention.
I'll spend the afternoon making holly wreaths, and I hope that there won't be too many of them to do after that. The Sage has been writing Christmas cards. I agree that they matter in one sense, but not in another. It's like money - it's not important, or shouldn't be, unless you don't have any at all. I hope that those people who don't get a card from us, or receive it late, will have had so many that we won't be missed.
There's been a degree of negativity around me (not in the family, and not among my blogging friends) that I've been finding it hard to rise above*, of late. As I see myself as a peacemaker and calmer-down of agitation, I try to absorb the stress of others, in an endeavour to help them cope**. Trouble shared is a trouble halved and all that. Whilst I'm not near the stage of being unable to do that, I'm finding it harder than usual to absorb and dissipate negative feelings, especially if I can't actually do anything to help in a practical sense.
So, today, I'll take an emotional break. I'll tranquilly make the holly wreaths in front of an unnecessary fire (for it's a mild day) and hug my Sage and my dog (not together, Chester loved group hugs but Tilly is less outgoing) and then enjoy a candle-lit evening.
*Ooh, dodgy grammar alert!
**This does not necessarily apply in my immediate family, where I reserve the right to be a drama queen and the centre of needy attention.
Saturday, 20 December 2008
Z, at sixes and sevens, contemplates going one over the eight
It was all going well. I'd taken Ro to the station, which was only open until 3.15 - the ticket office, that is. He wanted to renew his railcard as well so couldn't get the ticket on the train. I went home via the town, as I wanted to buy ricecakes and plain yoghurt. I eat a lot of those.
I arrived home, gave Tilly her dinner and went to get the venison out of the fridge to make a casserole. It wasn't there. I pondered. I'd bought it the other day at the same time as some sausages. We'd eaten the sausages, so I'd brought them home. I went and checked the car. I looked in the cupboards. I peered in the freezer. I went back to the fridge and then looked in all my shopping bags. It was nowhere to be seen.
I'm still rather anxious. That venison isn't getting any fresher and I'm concerned that we'll eventually track it down by the smell.
I went to the freezer and got out a couple of sirloin steaks and put them to defrost. I went to empty the dishwasher. Something had fallen partly over the drain filter and nothing was very clean. I emptied the dishwasher, scrubbed the filter and decided to clean the whole thing. I'd got a tablet of cleaner, so read the instructions - put it in the cutlery container and put on a mimimum 40 degree wash with nothing else in the machine. I did that. I put all the china in the sink and poured hot water on. I cleaned all the tannin marks off the mugs. There was something awry with the water softener a few weeks ago, so we turned the controls to bypass it, but the dishwasher is gradually becoming less efficient with the harder water, even though we use softener. I decided to give the water softener unit another chance and went to fetch the salt blocks. I knelt at the cupboard beneath the sink and opened the salt blocks, which were stuck together and needed throwing round the kitchen a bit. Eventually, they divided and I inserted them and turned the three taps to make water go through the unit. Unfortunately, in so doing, I knocked over a bottle of hand-washing liquid (for clothes) which splashed on my jeans. I sponged my knee, leaving a 9"x6" wet patch with an artificially flowery smell. I couldn't be bothered to change. Now that it's dry, I only notice the smell when I bend over and sniff.
Later, I went to restack the dishwasher as the programme had finished. I discovered that I should have unwrapped the cleansing tablet, which was therefore still intact. Still, at least it's all had a good rinse.
I can't remember what else went awry, but there were a few things. Still, I'm not dismayed. Well, I am, but not by that.
I had a letter a couple of days ago from someone resigning from a committee. I wrote back, saying how sorry I was and hoping she might reconsider. I had her emailed reply today (I'd said I'd phone her to talk it over after the weekend unless she emailed to say she'd rather I didn't), which went into more details about why she is quitting.
There has been a lack of tact and a lack of kindness; the heavy-handedness by more than one party; the snappiness was not unprovoked but was unnecessary. I'm pretty keen on politeness, myself. I can be forthright, but when I am I try to be kind with it, especially if I don't know the person or their sensitivities very well. You may have noticed that I attempt to smooth over disagreements, even in my comment box. I think there's little lasting joy in scoring points and it's better to respond to what someone should have said (and surely, in their heart, meant) rather than to words that could hurt or offend at first reaction. I've learnt this lesson, of course, by making mistakes.
This is not the matter I referred to earlier.
I'm going to read all evening and have an early night. Well, before midnight. At least, i'll go up for a bath before midnight, or soon after.
The Sage dealt splendidly with his steak, by the way. He's still a bit sore, but making no fuss.
I arrived home, gave Tilly her dinner and went to get the venison out of the fridge to make a casserole. It wasn't there. I pondered. I'd bought it the other day at the same time as some sausages. We'd eaten the sausages, so I'd brought them home. I went and checked the car. I looked in the cupboards. I peered in the freezer. I went back to the fridge and then looked in all my shopping bags. It was nowhere to be seen.
I'm still rather anxious. That venison isn't getting any fresher and I'm concerned that we'll eventually track it down by the smell.
I went to the freezer and got out a couple of sirloin steaks and put them to defrost. I went to empty the dishwasher. Something had fallen partly over the drain filter and nothing was very clean. I emptied the dishwasher, scrubbed the filter and decided to clean the whole thing. I'd got a tablet of cleaner, so read the instructions - put it in the cutlery container and put on a mimimum 40 degree wash with nothing else in the machine. I did that. I put all the china in the sink and poured hot water on. I cleaned all the tannin marks off the mugs. There was something awry with the water softener a few weeks ago, so we turned the controls to bypass it, but the dishwasher is gradually becoming less efficient with the harder water, even though we use softener. I decided to give the water softener unit another chance and went to fetch the salt blocks. I knelt at the cupboard beneath the sink and opened the salt blocks, which were stuck together and needed throwing round the kitchen a bit. Eventually, they divided and I inserted them and turned the three taps to make water go through the unit. Unfortunately, in so doing, I knocked over a bottle of hand-washing liquid (for clothes) which splashed on my jeans. I sponged my knee, leaving a 9"x6" wet patch with an artificially flowery smell. I couldn't be bothered to change. Now that it's dry, I only notice the smell when I bend over and sniff.
Later, I went to restack the dishwasher as the programme had finished. I discovered that I should have unwrapped the cleansing tablet, which was therefore still intact. Still, at least it's all had a good rinse.
I can't remember what else went awry, but there were a few things. Still, I'm not dismayed. Well, I am, but not by that.
I had a letter a couple of days ago from someone resigning from a committee. I wrote back, saying how sorry I was and hoping she might reconsider. I had her emailed reply today (I'd said I'd phone her to talk it over after the weekend unless she emailed to say she'd rather I didn't), which went into more details about why she is quitting.
There has been a lack of tact and a lack of kindness; the heavy-handedness by more than one party; the snappiness was not unprovoked but was unnecessary. I'm pretty keen on politeness, myself. I can be forthright, but when I am I try to be kind with it, especially if I don't know the person or their sensitivities very well. You may have noticed that I attempt to smooth over disagreements, even in my comment box. I think there's little lasting joy in scoring points and it's better to respond to what someone should have said (and surely, in their heart, meant) rather than to words that could hurt or offend at first reaction. I've learnt this lesson, of course, by making mistakes.
This is not the matter I referred to earlier.
I'm going to read all evening and have an early night. Well, before midnight. At least, i'll go up for a bath before midnight, or soon after.
The Sage dealt splendidly with his steak, by the way. He's still a bit sore, but making no fuss.
Z is chauffeuse
I spent the morning in the church, where several of us were doing the decorations and I was getting things ready for the service tomorrow as well. There were some people I haven't seen for a while, so I stopped for a chat with each of them - this sounds as if I've got an inflated sense of self-importance and I can only apologise, acknowledge it, but explain that it's not all self-imposed - and praised and thanked them for what they were doing. It's not me as me, it's me in the role I have accepted.
One lovely friend stayed until the end and we were able to chat too about some local matters that we're somewhat concerned about, and it's good to have someone you can speak freely to, when you are both on the same wavelength and both know it'll go no further. There are things sometimes that I'd love to talk about here but can't as they involve other people and it wouldn't be right.
In a few minutes, I'm taking Ro to the station as he's spending a couple of days in London with friends. It feels quiet already. Weeza is also going to London tomorrow; in fact they all are but Phil will spend one night and then go in to work on Monday from there, whilst Weeza and Zerlina are staying on for another night.
Time to go.
One lovely friend stayed until the end and we were able to chat too about some local matters that we're somewhat concerned about, and it's good to have someone you can speak freely to, when you are both on the same wavelength and both know it'll go no further. There are things sometimes that I'd love to talk about here but can't as they involve other people and it wouldn't be right.
In a few minutes, I'm taking Ro to the station as he's spending a couple of days in London with friends. It feels quiet already. Weeza is also going to London tomorrow; in fact they all are but Phil will spend one night and then go in to work on Monday from there, whilst Weeza and Zerlina are staying on for another night.
Time to go.
Friday, 19 December 2008
Z welcomes a Guest (part 2)
I had no doubt that I'd enjoy the day. It was to be only the third time I'd met our guest, but on the first occasion the waitress dropped the heavy hint of putting chairs on tables before we left the restaurant, and the second time of meeting, I outstayed the duration of a 'cup of tea' visit by some time.
It did all turn out to be a bit of a rush though. When I sent the invitation, I had a completely free day, but the whole week filled up - in fact, I received an invitation myself for lunch on Thursday.
Then the Sage had an appointment with the dentist on Wednesday too. I had to drive him, it was only kind.
So I decided on a simple menu which nevertheless included a proper pudding.
It was a pity I hadn't had time to cut back the brambles that sneak their way through the gates at the end of the drive, nor clear away the grass growing through the drain in the tarmac.
My guest, as expected, was charm personified. Every time I've met a fellow blogger, I've found that we slip into an easy conversation. If we like each other enough to want to meet, we've already got the advantage of not needing to go through polite preliminary conversational skirmishes, as we've probably let enough be known about our personal lives - possibly more than we've told some close friends - to move into a comfortable conversation.
There's still some of the pudding left. I suspect Ro will polish it off later, however.
A slightly early seasonal picture. Jesus doesn't look at all like a potato. Though he's being shy. You must click on the picture for him to appear.
It did all turn out to be a bit of a rush though. When I sent the invitation, I had a completely free day, but the whole week filled up - in fact, I received an invitation myself for lunch on Thursday.
Then the Sage had an appointment with the dentist on Wednesday too. I had to drive him, it was only kind.
So I decided on a simple menu which nevertheless included a proper pudding.
It was a pity I hadn't had time to cut back the brambles that sneak their way through the gates at the end of the drive, nor clear away the grass growing through the drain in the tarmac.
My guest, as expected, was charm personified. Every time I've met a fellow blogger, I've found that we slip into an easy conversation. If we like each other enough to want to meet, we've already got the advantage of not needing to go through polite preliminary conversational skirmishes, as we've probably let enough be known about our personal lives - possibly more than we've told some close friends - to move into a comfortable conversation.
There's still some of the pudding left. I suspect Ro will polish it off later, however.
A slightly early seasonal picture. Jesus doesn't look at all like a potato. Though he's being shy. You must click on the picture for him to appear.
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Z welcomes a Guest (part 1)
The house is very quiet suddenly. And, though the casual visitor might be surprised to learn it, unnaturally tidy (my tidiness stops at the point where most people's starts).
Actually, someone I know says she's looking for a cleaning job at the moment. I like her and might consider taking her up on it.
I digress.
The interviews went very well this morning, in that there were very good and capable candidates and we had real difficulty choosing. They overran somewhat, but I shot out of the door at five to twelve, only to find that someone had parked badly and I couldn't get past, which meant I had to back down a narrow road with cars parked on one side. Again, one car was slightly away from the kerb and I had to go on the shrubbery and push the shrubs away from the wing mirror as I went past. I don't think I got too badly scratched.
I arrived home, to find a lugubrious note from the Sage, out rounding up cows. He arrived back as I did, job well done, and apologised that he hadn't been able to persuade the dining room fire to draw. It being chilly in there, we decided to have lunch in the kitchen.
I opened the tin of baked beans, sliced the bread ready for toasting and all was ready for our guest.
Actually, someone I know says she's looking for a cleaning job at the moment. I like her and might consider taking her up on it.
I digress.
The interviews went very well this morning, in that there were very good and capable candidates and we had real difficulty choosing. They overran somewhat, but I shot out of the door at five to twelve, only to find that someone had parked badly and I couldn't get past, which meant I had to back down a narrow road with cars parked on one side. Again, one car was slightly away from the kerb and I had to go on the shrubbery and push the shrubs away from the wing mirror as I went past. I don't think I got too badly scratched.
I arrived home, to find a lugubrious note from the Sage, out rounding up cows. He arrived back as I did, job well done, and apologised that he hadn't been able to persuade the dining room fire to draw. It being chilly in there, we decided to have lunch in the kitchen.
I opened the tin of baked beans, sliced the bread ready for toasting and all was ready for our guest.
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
All I want for Christmas...
No, I haven't sung it to the Sage. I'm being very kind and sweet. But it's running through my head.
He was ages in the dentist. I offered to drive him in, in case he didn't feel too good when he came out, and yesterday he poo-pooed the idea, but changed his mind this morning. He told me 45 minutes, I thought that was pushing it but was back within the hour, with a boot full of Tesco booze (I know, I know, not such a woman of principle as I like to think) and still had to wait more than half an hour for him. I stayed in the car, because it's very much a bedsit area of Norwich and I was a bit worried that the car should not be broken in to, but as time went by, I got more and more anxious that he was having a rotten time.
He managed a plateful of scrambled eggs for lunch, very bravely. I've assured him that he needs plenty of protein to keep up his strength.
Would you care to sing along with me? Silently, of course
He was ages in the dentist. I offered to drive him in, in case he didn't feel too good when he came out, and yesterday he poo-pooed the idea, but changed his mind this morning. He told me 45 minutes, I thought that was pushing it but was back within the hour, with a boot full of Tesco booze (I know, I know, not such a woman of principle as I like to think) and still had to wait more than half an hour for him. I stayed in the car, because it's very much a bedsit area of Norwich and I was a bit worried that the car should not be broken in to, but as time went by, I got more and more anxious that he was having a rotten time.
He managed a plateful of scrambled eggs for lunch, very bravely. I've assured him that he needs plenty of protein to keep up his strength.
Would you care to sing along with me? Silently, of course
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Z worries a bit
I've got a lot on at the moment. I'm helping the chairman of governors at the school - effectively taking over for practical purposes. I'm winding down the year, while planning for January. This is fine, in itself, as I am quite good at thinking ahead. I'm rubbish at actually doing ahead, but I hang on to the thought that looking for the pitfalls is as good as actually avoiding them. But it's meant, among other things, that I'm now the link governor for four areas - Special Needs, Music, Languages and Vocational learning. It's quite a lot, if you do them all properly. The worrying thing is that if I do, I get really interested and involved, which takes more time.
Dilly's brother-in-law's mother is very ill at present. Do send healing thoughts her way. I've never met her, actually. I can't remember if I've ever given Dilly's family names, so I'll simply call them Paula and Matt, because that's who they are. They've not been very lucky at Christmas. Their cat went missing last year, and never turned up, and Matt's dad died at Christmas a few years ago. Mum has had an operation, during which cancer was discovered, and now she has an infection. It's touch and go.
The Sage is being very brave, but he got an infection too, resulting in a gum abscess and he's having a couple of teeth out tomorrow.
Tender food for a few days, methinks.
I've decided on a menu for Thursday. I won't tell you now, in case I change my mind. Actually, the food is no problem. If you all turned up for a meal, I'd feed you all a proper home-cooked dinner within the hour - 40 minutes if someone else laid the table. But I sort of need to get the hoover out. Pine needles everywhere from all those blessed holly wreaths.
Al and I made 6 last night, and 8 the night before. Both sessions lasted an hour and the difference was that last night's holly was very prickly, because that's what he'd been asked for. He sells them for £5 and, other than the wire base and the wire to hold the greenery, the materials cost nothing (we make wreaths in exchange for holly and fir). But we don't count our time. Do we (as Nelson would have put it) we'd be reckoning on £3-£4 per wreath just for time at minimum wage.
Tonight was Prizegiving. Fortunately, the chairman was able to come for that, so I didn't have to give a speech. It was lovely that two retired headteachers (one of whom came over from Wales) and several retired teachers joined us for the occasion.
I'm slightly drunk. I got home at quarter past nine and went to poach a couple of eggs, as I hadn't eaten and was very hungry. As I was eating, I checked emails and found one from Dilly. I rang her. "I heard you singing", she said "while I was at the computer and you were putting stuff in the washing machine." I can't remember singing. I know I put stuff in the washing machine, and in the tumble drier, but I don't remember singing.
I remember drinking. I still am, actually, but I've had enough now. I'm going to make coffee and listen to more music. I've got Benny Goodman on at present. It's not really my style of music, swing and that sort of thing, but I love the way he plays. If I could play my clarinet well, I'd model myself on Benny Goodman. You know, apparently effortless but bloody marvellous. I don't want the seams or the effort to show.
Oh gosh. I've just thought of my ideal epitaph. "She didn't let the seams show". Sadly, it's more likely to be "She didn't do that much harm."
Dilly's brother-in-law's mother is very ill at present. Do send healing thoughts her way. I've never met her, actually. I can't remember if I've ever given Dilly's family names, so I'll simply call them Paula and Matt, because that's who they are. They've not been very lucky at Christmas. Their cat went missing last year, and never turned up, and Matt's dad died at Christmas a few years ago. Mum has had an operation, during which cancer was discovered, and now she has an infection. It's touch and go.
The Sage is being very brave, but he got an infection too, resulting in a gum abscess and he's having a couple of teeth out tomorrow.
Tender food for a few days, methinks.
I've decided on a menu for Thursday. I won't tell you now, in case I change my mind. Actually, the food is no problem. If you all turned up for a meal, I'd feed you all a proper home-cooked dinner within the hour - 40 minutes if someone else laid the table. But I sort of need to get the hoover out. Pine needles everywhere from all those blessed holly wreaths.
Al and I made 6 last night, and 8 the night before. Both sessions lasted an hour and the difference was that last night's holly was very prickly, because that's what he'd been asked for. He sells them for £5 and, other than the wire base and the wire to hold the greenery, the materials cost nothing (we make wreaths in exchange for holly and fir). But we don't count our time. Do we (as Nelson would have put it) we'd be reckoning on £3-£4 per wreath just for time at minimum wage.
Tonight was Prizegiving. Fortunately, the chairman was able to come for that, so I didn't have to give a speech. It was lovely that two retired headteachers (one of whom came over from Wales) and several retired teachers joined us for the occasion.
I'm slightly drunk. I got home at quarter past nine and went to poach a couple of eggs, as I hadn't eaten and was very hungry. As I was eating, I checked emails and found one from Dilly. I rang her. "I heard you singing", she said "while I was at the computer and you were putting stuff in the washing machine." I can't remember singing. I know I put stuff in the washing machine, and in the tumble drier, but I don't remember singing.
I remember drinking. I still am, actually, but I've had enough now. I'm going to make coffee and listen to more music. I've got Benny Goodman on at present. It's not really my style of music, swing and that sort of thing, but I love the way he plays. If I could play my clarinet well, I'd model myself on Benny Goodman. You know, apparently effortless but bloody marvellous. I don't want the seams or the effort to show.
Oh gosh. I've just thought of my ideal epitaph. "She didn't let the seams show". Sadly, it's more likely to be "She didn't do that much harm."
Monday, 15 December 2008
Z is fortunate
I called on a friend this afternoon and I'm feeling very fortunate, at this moment, not to be in her situation.
I don't want to say too much as it's not fair to talk about someone behind their back - all I can say is that her mother-in-law had a nasty accident a few weeks back and, after a period in hospital, she's staying with her son and his wife (who is my friend: the son, while charming, is not someone I know very well) and needs someone on hand all the time. This is my friend (whom I think I'll call MF from now on). She's had to give up her two part-time jobs and her voluntary work and is devoting herself entirely to her dear ma-in-law. However dear, you can imagine how draining this is.
To add to this, her husband is working on a really important project that means a lot to his company and he needs both her support and complete peace and tranquillity when he's at home.
He has a sister, but she seems a bit casual about the whole thing. I don't think anyone in her family has a clue how exhausting and draining the whole thing is for MF. She is normally very sociable and energetic and she's stuck at home all the time with the company of one elderly lady, and she's not sure, at present, what the future holds.
I was at the shop, making up a fruit basket as a small present for the invalid, when my mobile rang. It was B, asking me to help with interviews on Thursday morning. "I've got someone coming for lunch, I'd have to be home by noon at the latest". "Oh, that's all right," said B airily,"the last interview is scheduled for 11 o'clock and if you make up your minds quite quickly you'll be fine."
Slight change of menu plan might be needed, and I'll spend Wednesday slaving over the hot stove instead of Thursday morning. It'll be fine. Interviews are fun (except those for headteachers, which are gruelling) and a fine friend is coming for lunch, so I have much to look forward to.
I don't want to say too much as it's not fair to talk about someone behind their back - all I can say is that her mother-in-law had a nasty accident a few weeks back and, after a period in hospital, she's staying with her son and his wife (who is my friend: the son, while charming, is not someone I know very well) and needs someone on hand all the time. This is my friend (whom I think I'll call MF from now on). She's had to give up her two part-time jobs and her voluntary work and is devoting herself entirely to her dear ma-in-law. However dear, you can imagine how draining this is.
To add to this, her husband is working on a really important project that means a lot to his company and he needs both her support and complete peace and tranquillity when he's at home.
He has a sister, but she seems a bit casual about the whole thing. I don't think anyone in her family has a clue how exhausting and draining the whole thing is for MF. She is normally very sociable and energetic and she's stuck at home all the time with the company of one elderly lady, and she's not sure, at present, what the future holds.
I was at the shop, making up a fruit basket as a small present for the invalid, when my mobile rang. It was B, asking me to help with interviews on Thursday morning. "I've got someone coming for lunch, I'd have to be home by noon at the latest". "Oh, that's all right," said B airily,"the last interview is scheduled for 11 o'clock and if you make up your minds quite quickly you'll be fine."
Slight change of menu plan might be needed, and I'll spend Wednesday slaving over the hot stove instead of Thursday morning. It'll be fine. Interviews are fun (except those for headteachers, which are gruelling) and a fine friend is coming for lunch, so I have much to look forward to.
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Z plans to make a porcino of herself
I'd set the alarm for 6.45, but I woke just before 3 o'clock. A wakeful hour later, I gave up and switched a little torch on and read for another hour. After that I dozed on and off until 6.30, when I woke, realised I was going to go to sleep properly at last and was deep in a dream when the alarm went.
The weather was quite mild but drizzly. I put on a coat and hat and cycled down to the church. As I was setting up all the stuff, I realised I'd left the flowers at home. The minister had arrived so I left him in charge while I went home, and then arranged flowers in two vases to go on the windowsill.
After the service, I cycled damply into town for the Sunday paper. I went home, put my hat and gloves to dry on the Aga and made porridge and tea for breakfast, adding a second bowl with yoghurt in because why just have one dull thing to eat when you can have two and feel really healthy?
Half an hour later, I packed my clarinet into a pannier and fetched my coat. I put on my hat and chortled loudly with pleasure at its warmth. As I cycled down the drive, I planned with silent glee to put the hat on a radiator at the church to relive that pleasure in a couple of hours time.
And now I'm home again. I've put some dried mushrooms to soak and am wondering what to do with them. Risotto or soup? I have a small problem in that the Sage doesn't care for mushrooms, so whatever I do, I'll have to do something else for him. And it'll have to be at least as much trouble as the mushroom dish, so that he doesn't feel disappointed. It would be awful if Ro and I were happily chomping on something lovely while he's eating less interesting food.
The weather was quite mild but drizzly. I put on a coat and hat and cycled down to the church. As I was setting up all the stuff, I realised I'd left the flowers at home. The minister had arrived so I left him in charge while I went home, and then arranged flowers in two vases to go on the windowsill.
After the service, I cycled damply into town for the Sunday paper. I went home, put my hat and gloves to dry on the Aga and made porridge and tea for breakfast, adding a second bowl with yoghurt in because why just have one dull thing to eat when you can have two and feel really healthy?
Half an hour later, I packed my clarinet into a pannier and fetched my coat. I put on my hat and chortled loudly with pleasure at its warmth. As I cycled down the drive, I planned with silent glee to put the hat on a radiator at the church to relive that pleasure in a couple of hours time.
And now I'm home again. I've put some dried mushrooms to soak and am wondering what to do with them. Risotto or soup? I have a small problem in that the Sage doesn't care for mushrooms, so whatever I do, I'll have to do something else for him. And it'll have to be at least as much trouble as the mushroom dish, so that he doesn't feel disappointed. It would be awful if Ro and I were happily chomping on something lovely while he's eating less interesting food.
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Z gets ready
I've been cradling a hot cup of tea in my hands, but I can't warm up. I spent an hour down at the church rearranging things. We've got a very useful extension built behind the church with a meeting room, hallway, cloakroom and large kitchen/meeting room, half of which has been in use as an office for the last three years. It will be cleared just before or after Christmas, however, as a new office has just been built by the Rectory.
For the last few years, we've occasionally held a service in the church room if the weather has been particularly cold, but at the last PCC meeting it was decided to move there altogether during December and January unless there was some reason to expect a congregation of more than 30 or so. So today, I've been setting it up. Of course, it can't all be left in place during the week as the room is used for other purposes too, but the larger pieces of furniture can just be pushed back against the wall.
I don't know how acceptable it'll be for people, I hope they'll like it and not feel it's not 'right' not being in the church. There's a lovely stone arched window and we've set up an altar in front of that, and I'll put the large candlesticks and the cross on the windowsill, with smaller brass candlesticks that I've lent on the altar. We can have coffee in there afterwards or in the hall and, once the office furniture is out, we can use that area of the kitchen.
It's the early 8 o'clock Prayer Book (that is, the traditional 1662 service) Communion tomorrow and the dozen people who come to that will be the ones to test it. If they like it, we're winning.
I rather hope the weather is as cold tomorrow as it has been the past few days. A cold, nearly freezing rain and a sharp wind today. Leaded church windows let in a lot of draughts and the church room will be a lot more comfortable than the main building. Mind you, we're not saving on heating. The village school uses the church a lot at this time of the year as they hold their Christingle service and school play there, so I spent some time setting the time clock for the heating to come on to warm the place. It has to go on 5 or 6 hours in advance of the time it's being used to make it warm enough.
Now I need to do a sign to put on the door to let people know where to go.
Ooh! Weeza, Phil and Zerlina have just arrived!
For the last few years, we've occasionally held a service in the church room if the weather has been particularly cold, but at the last PCC meeting it was decided to move there altogether during December and January unless there was some reason to expect a congregation of more than 30 or so. So today, I've been setting it up. Of course, it can't all be left in place during the week as the room is used for other purposes too, but the larger pieces of furniture can just be pushed back against the wall.
I don't know how acceptable it'll be for people, I hope they'll like it and not feel it's not 'right' not being in the church. There's a lovely stone arched window and we've set up an altar in front of that, and I'll put the large candlesticks and the cross on the windowsill, with smaller brass candlesticks that I've lent on the altar. We can have coffee in there afterwards or in the hall and, once the office furniture is out, we can use that area of the kitchen.
It's the early 8 o'clock Prayer Book (that is, the traditional 1662 service) Communion tomorrow and the dozen people who come to that will be the ones to test it. If they like it, we're winning.
I rather hope the weather is as cold tomorrow as it has been the past few days. A cold, nearly freezing rain and a sharp wind today. Leaded church windows let in a lot of draughts and the church room will be a lot more comfortable than the main building. Mind you, we're not saving on heating. The village school uses the church a lot at this time of the year as they hold their Christingle service and school play there, so I spent some time setting the time clock for the heating to come on to warm the place. It has to go on 5 or 6 hours in advance of the time it's being used to make it warm enough.
Now I need to do a sign to put on the door to let people know where to go.
Ooh! Weeza, Phil and Zerlina have just arrived!
Friday, 12 December 2008
Don't let me forget to take the casserole out of the oven before I go to bed. Please.
I started reading blogs and then Bloglines updated and suddenly the number of unread posts went from 200-and-something to 1200, which was a bit startling. Whole lots of blogs suddenly had 200 very old posts quoted. I got rid of all those, but I've still got 251 real ones to read, so please excuse me if I don't comment much for a few days.
I have started Christmas shopping, which I know is a bit early for me, but I'm feeling terribly well organised. I have also posted one card, which is really impressive. I wonder when the last posting date is. We usually just miss it.
I put a beef casserole in the oven some 3 hours ago. I wonder if I'll remember to take it out before I go to bed. I hope so. It has half a can of Guinness in it, which obliged me to drink the other half.
This room is chaotic. It was all right a couple of days ago, I wonder what's happened? Weeza and family arrived when I was clearing up last Saturday and I kept on having to do it around them as everything was piled in the middle of the room. They're coming over again tomorrow, so I hope I get going a bit earlier then than I did this morning. I meant to leave at 10.30 but it was nearly 10.50 by the time I was ready, having had people call at the door and on the phone (different people did each).
I cycled in to the school, but I've become woefully unfit or maybe just weak. The cold and damp make me ache badly which doesn't help and I wussed out of cycling up the little, but steeper than it looks, hill towards the post office. I went around the back way (longer but less steep slope) instead and was out of breath by the top. I didn't even try the school hill, but walked it. It was still very frosty at 11 o'clock.
However, the music lesson was entertaining. The pupils' work was being recorded this morning and it took ages. Fortunately, two groups had elected to record their arrangements directly on to the computer, but the three others had a load of small problems and the final one was finished barely a minute before the bell went. However, the one that took longest was because the four boys involved so badly wanted to get it just right. I said to them that I'd been really impressed with the level of communication and support they'd given each other (I phrased it less stiltedly than that, of course. What do you take me for?). It was a real collaborative effort - two of them are pretty musical but the others, who don't know a lot about playing, were included and one, who'd been a bit disengaged at the start of the lesson, was as involved as the others by the end, and praised the singer's voice which was encouraging of him, because it's hard to sing while a small group of people are watching you. Well, in my case, it's impossible, but then no one would be stupid enough, if they'd heard me sing once, to ask me again. I considered, at this point, inserting a short clip of me singing to Zerlina but I rejected the idea. Really, I'm sparing you.
I have started Christmas shopping, which I know is a bit early for me, but I'm feeling terribly well organised. I have also posted one card, which is really impressive. I wonder when the last posting date is. We usually just miss it.
I put a beef casserole in the oven some 3 hours ago. I wonder if I'll remember to take it out before I go to bed. I hope so. It has half a can of Guinness in it, which obliged me to drink the other half.
This room is chaotic. It was all right a couple of days ago, I wonder what's happened? Weeza and family arrived when I was clearing up last Saturday and I kept on having to do it around them as everything was piled in the middle of the room. They're coming over again tomorrow, so I hope I get going a bit earlier then than I did this morning. I meant to leave at 10.30 but it was nearly 10.50 by the time I was ready, having had people call at the door and on the phone (different people did each).
I cycled in to the school, but I've become woefully unfit or maybe just weak. The cold and damp make me ache badly which doesn't help and I wussed out of cycling up the little, but steeper than it looks, hill towards the post office. I went around the back way (longer but less steep slope) instead and was out of breath by the top. I didn't even try the school hill, but walked it. It was still very frosty at 11 o'clock.
However, the music lesson was entertaining. The pupils' work was being recorded this morning and it took ages. Fortunately, two groups had elected to record their arrangements directly on to the computer, but the three others had a load of small problems and the final one was finished barely a minute before the bell went. However, the one that took longest was because the four boys involved so badly wanted to get it just right. I said to them that I'd been really impressed with the level of communication and support they'd given each other (I phrased it less stiltedly than that, of course. What do you take me for?). It was a real collaborative effort - two of them are pretty musical but the others, who don't know a lot about playing, were included and one, who'd been a bit disengaged at the start of the lesson, was as involved as the others by the end, and praised the singer's voice which was encouraging of him, because it's hard to sing while a small group of people are watching you. Well, in my case, it's impossible, but then no one would be stupid enough, if they'd heard me sing once, to ask me again. I considered, at this point, inserting a short clip of me singing to Zerlina but I rejected the idea. Really, I'm sparing you.
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Chums
I gave friends a lift to Norwich for lunch. I mentioned it a while ago, when I did the same thing - they live about 9 miles away, and about the same distance from Norwich as I do, so the extra distance involved is just from me to them.
They are sisters, now in their late 70/early 80s. A couple of years back, one of them was due a hip replacement and was all set to go and awaiting an appointment, when the government decided that the hospital, which had made great efforts to reduce its waiting lists, was becoming too efficient to be economic and so decreed that non-urgent cases should be held back, thus creating waiting lists again. In the extra three or four months, J complained of great pain in her hip.
When she was finally called in and was being operated on, it was discovered that she'd developed an infection in the bone. She had the bone that needed to be replaced removed and was placed in traction, while the infection was being treated. This was at a time when MRSA was in the news and in that hospital, so it was an anxious period. J and her sister set up home together 16 years ago in the centre of the small town and decided to give up their cars, so it was very difficult for L to get over to see J daily, but with buses and help from friends, she managed. J did not catch a superbug, her infection healed and she had a new hip joint fitted and she spent a long time recuperating. She still uses one or two elbow crutches, but they are both cheerful and uncomplaining, and L looks after her, to the extent it's needed, most lovingly.
To get to the lunch takes two buses and I can't imagine how long. I've known them a long time - 16 years, in fact, since they moved house, but never very well. But now I've started to give them lifts, I've become awfully fond of them. They have invited another friend, who otherwise would be alone over Christmas, to spend a week with them and they are always thinking of others.
So, I told them how much I admired them. Well, we don't say it often enough, do we? Maybe we should.
It was they who made and decorated the anniversary cake I showed you here.
They are sisters, now in their late 70/early 80s. A couple of years back, one of them was due a hip replacement and was all set to go and awaiting an appointment, when the government decided that the hospital, which had made great efforts to reduce its waiting lists, was becoming too efficient to be economic and so decreed that non-urgent cases should be held back, thus creating waiting lists again. In the extra three or four months, J complained of great pain in her hip.
When she was finally called in and was being operated on, it was discovered that she'd developed an infection in the bone. She had the bone that needed to be replaced removed and was placed in traction, while the infection was being treated. This was at a time when MRSA was in the news and in that hospital, so it was an anxious period. J and her sister set up home together 16 years ago in the centre of the small town and decided to give up their cars, so it was very difficult for L to get over to see J daily, but with buses and help from friends, she managed. J did not catch a superbug, her infection healed and she had a new hip joint fitted and she spent a long time recuperating. She still uses one or two elbow crutches, but they are both cheerful and uncomplaining, and L looks after her, to the extent it's needed, most lovingly.
To get to the lunch takes two buses and I can't imagine how long. I've known them a long time - 16 years, in fact, since they moved house, but never very well. But now I've started to give them lifts, I've become awfully fond of them. They have invited another friend, who otherwise would be alone over Christmas, to spend a week with them and they are always thinking of others.
So, I told them how much I admired them. Well, we don't say it often enough, do we? Maybe we should.
It was they who made and decorated the anniversary cake I showed you here.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
Meeting
It was all very jolly. We all converged upon John Lewis in Norwich at noon. The Sage and I left home after Dilly and the children, but their car was behind ours in the car park queue. The Sage got out to go and meet his sister, Juniper, and I went to park. I thought I'd try the lower ground level first, as sometimes there's a space which people don't spot as one has to go there specially. A woman was just stowing her purchases in her car, so I waited. And as I waited, along came Ro, on his lunch break. I parked and we went upstairs, and on the first floor (this is the second floor as far as you're concerned, dear TransAtlanticeans) we met Dilly, Squiffany and Pugsley. Up the escalator and there were the Sage and Juniper and, as we pushed together three tables to sit together, along came Weeza and Zerlina. Juniper hadn't expected quite such a gathering of the clan and sat down on the Stilton which was her Christmas present.
We had a lovely time. Juniper cuddled Zerlina and was rewarded with smiles and Squiffany chatted to her in a friendly manner. She has two grandchildren herself, aged 11 and 6 and she always rents a cottage near her daughter, where her son and his partner stay too over the holiday.
Our niece's husband died suddenly in November last year, and then she and her brother were both ill at Christmas (in a D&V way) so they had an entirely miserable time. On the anniversary of Jonathan's death, she and the children wrote messages on helium balloons, took them to the cemetery and sent them aloft for Daddy, which cheered up the children a great deal. One of the daughter's schoolfriends lost her father this year suddenly, at the age of only 41, so young E feels for him, but is comforted somewhat, though no less sympathetic, by knowing that she no longer stands out as the only one to be pitied.
We had a lovely time. Juniper cuddled Zerlina and was rewarded with smiles and Squiffany chatted to her in a friendly manner. She has two grandchildren herself, aged 11 and 6 and she always rents a cottage near her daughter, where her son and his partner stay too over the holiday.
Our niece's husband died suddenly in November last year, and then she and her brother were both ill at Christmas (in a D&V way) so they had an entirely miserable time. On the anniversary of Jonathan's death, she and the children wrote messages on helium balloons, took them to the cemetery and sent them aloft for Daddy, which cheered up the children a great deal. One of the daughter's schoolfriends lost her father this year suddenly, at the age of only 41, so young E feels for him, but is comforted somewhat, though no less sympathetic, by knowing that she no longer stands out as the only one to be pitied.
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