I did finish the work last night, which meant that I didn't have it to do this morning. Tilly wouldn't touch her breakfast, so I was glad that I'd made an appointment for her at the vet. She's got a slightly raised temperature so is on antibiotics, and has had a blood sample taken for tests. Recently, she's been eating only soft food, as she can't digest biscuit or chews, so her teeth aren't in too good shape and that may be the source of the infection. Anyway, I bought chicken and cooked it with rice, carrots and onions and she thought that was lovely, so she's eaten a lot today which is reassuring. I'll buy some lamb for her tomorrow (I was joking about the fillet steak, Dave). She usually enjoys her dog food, and seemed hungry, but wouldn't touch it - I've had to coax her for a few days. She has lost some weight since I changed her diet and can't afford to get much thinner.
I did get to the lecture, which was excellent - the Sage came too and enjoyed it very much. And then I had my hair cut, which I always find soothing, so I had mellowed considerably by the time I arrived home. This evening I've read nice replies to the email with information that I sent out last night, so I've answered all those, and although I've still got a lot to do, I've caught up with the urgent stuff. Still not heard from Ofsted. Still not fussing.
Tomorrow morning, weather permitting, we'll be bricklaying again. Weeza and Zerlina are coming over too for the day, so that will be fun.
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
Corruption
I've had a frustrating evening, but I've sorted it out at last, and learned a few lessons. I've been receiving documents for the last few weeks and had to put them all together, using a PDF rewriter. Of course, that was a pc one, so I'd loaded it on the Sage's laptop. I shifted the files across and put them together but, late in the day, discovered that some of them had been corrupted in the process. So I had to retype a lot of information. And, when you're used to using one type of computer, using another is very annoying. They are similar enough that you think they are going to be the same, and the air turns a bit blue when you find they aren't.
Anyway, I now know for sure that I don't want a pc, not ever. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with them or either type of computer is better or worse - I've been pretty bored with the whole thing of Mac/PC rivalry for a long time - just that I've used one for over 20 years and I don't want to have to relearn things. Learning something entirely new is a different matter - I hope I'll never give up on that.
Anyway, the weather looked a bit dodge today so we called off the bricklaying. It didn't rain all that much, but there was a steady drizzle for a while, so it was just as well. We haven't had the Ofsted call at school yet but it's still more likely than not. I can't fuss about that either.
Now I've finally got that lot of documents off, I can start on the agenda for the governors' meeting. I'll not finish tonight though, I'm tired and unreliable. I'll get the obvious bits done and work on the rest tomorrow morning. Though I've got Nadfas tomorrow morning, and taking Tilly to the vet for a check-up before that.
Business before pleasure, I fear. I may not make it to the lecture.
The catalogue for our sale is online - I've got a link to it under 'the day job' on the sidebar.
Anyway, I now know for sure that I don't want a pc, not ever. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with them or either type of computer is better or worse - I've been pretty bored with the whole thing of Mac/PC rivalry for a long time - just that I've used one for over 20 years and I don't want to have to relearn things. Learning something entirely new is a different matter - I hope I'll never give up on that.
Anyway, the weather looked a bit dodge today so we called off the bricklaying. It didn't rain all that much, but there was a steady drizzle for a while, so it was just as well. We haven't had the Ofsted call at school yet but it's still more likely than not. I can't fuss about that either.
Now I've finally got that lot of documents off, I can start on the agenda for the governors' meeting. I'll not finish tonight though, I'm tired and unreliable. I'll get the obvious bits done and work on the rest tomorrow morning. Though I've got Nadfas tomorrow morning, and taking Tilly to the vet for a check-up before that.
Business before pleasure, I fear. I may not make it to the lecture.
The catalogue for our sale is online - I've got a link to it under 'the day job' on the sidebar.
Monday, 4 October 2010
Z is ready for inspection. Reluctantly.
An open evening at the school, for parents and children interested in the school - most of them are in our catchment area, but an appreciable number from out of town. It seemed to go down very well, in spite of our 70s and showing it buildings. What was lovely was the prefects and year 9 students who were cheerfully giving up their evening to show people round the school - the year 9s have only been a month in the school, it was really good of them. Some of them live in Lowestoft so had a long journey back at the end - the Head was going to drive them in the school minibus.
I wish I wasn't fettered by the need for confidentiality, there were a couple of funny incidents. Nothing actually confidential as such, just not fair to the people concerned to throw it out for all to see.
More than half expecting a phone call tomorrow which, until a week ago, we didn't expect until February. I could do without it this week. We're ready for an inspection of course, we're always ready. Several schools that were inspected at the same time as us last time have been done or received notice within the last week, so that's a fair indication.
I didn't get home until half past seven, so I was awfully pleased to smell cooking as I came in the door. The Sage was cooking pork chops and baked potatoes, so I did some swiss chard that I'd picked yesterday - the chopped stalks first and then the leaves, which are like red spinach, on top at the end to wilt.
It's occurred to me how odd it will be next spring (what? of course I plan ahead) when I don't need to grow whole lots of vegetable plants. Just what we need for ourselves. Unless Tim wants me to, there will be no point. What it should mean is that I grow everything carefully, giving it lots of space, so I should get better plants. That's the theory, anyway. Hm. I've been meaning to harvest the squashes, but haven't got around to it yet. Must do it, they'll rot with all this rain.
I wish I wasn't fettered by the need for confidentiality, there were a couple of funny incidents. Nothing actually confidential as such, just not fair to the people concerned to throw it out for all to see.
More than half expecting a phone call tomorrow which, until a week ago, we didn't expect until February. I could do without it this week. We're ready for an inspection of course, we're always ready. Several schools that were inspected at the same time as us last time have been done or received notice within the last week, so that's a fair indication.
I didn't get home until half past seven, so I was awfully pleased to smell cooking as I came in the door. The Sage was cooking pork chops and baked potatoes, so I did some swiss chard that I'd picked yesterday - the chopped stalks first and then the leaves, which are like red spinach, on top at the end to wilt.
It's occurred to me how odd it will be next spring (what? of course I plan ahead) when I don't need to grow whole lots of vegetable plants. Just what we need for ourselves. Unless Tim wants me to, there will be no point. What it should mean is that I grow everything carefully, giving it lots of space, so I should get better plants. That's the theory, anyway. Hm. I've been meaning to harvest the squashes, but haven't got around to it yet. Must do it, they'll rot with all this rain.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
For what it's worth
Ro and Dora came over this afternoon and stayed for dinner, which was a pleasure as we haven't seen them for a few weeks - Dora's car was out of action and they've been pretty busy at weekends. Ro stroked my Wire DVDs lovingly and with an air of longing. I finally got around to watching the first episode tonight (I've been busy too) - I've a feeling this is how I'm going to spend an hour of most evenings for the next couple of months. Splendid to see it again.
I was going to tell you about the swan. It belonged to a man who had a collection of Lowestoft china - he was a retired antiques dealer. His daughter loved the china and he told her he had left it to her in his will. Of course, he'd left his possessions fairly distributed between his family members. However, towards the end of his life he needed nursing care and, to raise money, his family decided to sell off some items - the sons, having no interest in the china but knowing it was valuable, decided to sell some of it. His daughter knew it was left to her, but could hardly say so; her brothers were unaware of that.
Years later, the cygnet that had belonged to the old man came up for auction again. His son-on-law bought it back for his wife, so it could be returned where it belonged. He died too, only a year later, so she particularly treasured it for the rest of her life - what it was worth to her had little to do with money. She died in her turn a few years ago, and now her sons have decided to sell it - they like it, but are nervous of it being damaged, and so it's been kept packed away.
As for its value - well, what's anything worth? Is the work of a footballer worth more than the prime minister or the postman? If you buy anything that's purely ornamental, you acknowledge that it has a value. And it's worth what someone is willing to pay for it - which may take into account how much it cost to make. But the swan is a modest little item from a provincial factory - it's not on a par with Chelsea or Meissen.
The most valuable item in this room, as far as I'm concerned, is the little box, a 1/8 scale model of an antique oak coffer that my husband made for me. It took him many hours and was done with love and considerable care and skill. Its monetary value is negligible, but that doesn't matter, as it'll never be for sale, not in my lifetime. It didn't cost a lot to make unless you include his time. Which he gave.
I was going to tell you about the swan. It belonged to a man who had a collection of Lowestoft china - he was a retired antiques dealer. His daughter loved the china and he told her he had left it to her in his will. Of course, he'd left his possessions fairly distributed between his family members. However, towards the end of his life he needed nursing care and, to raise money, his family decided to sell off some items - the sons, having no interest in the china but knowing it was valuable, decided to sell some of it. His daughter knew it was left to her, but could hardly say so; her brothers were unaware of that.
Years later, the cygnet that had belonged to the old man came up for auction again. His son-on-law bought it back for his wife, so it could be returned where it belonged. He died too, only a year later, so she particularly treasured it for the rest of her life - what it was worth to her had little to do with money. She died in her turn a few years ago, and now her sons have decided to sell it - they like it, but are nervous of it being damaged, and so it's been kept packed away.
As for its value - well, what's anything worth? Is the work of a footballer worth more than the prime minister or the postman? If you buy anything that's purely ornamental, you acknowledge that it has a value. And it's worth what someone is willing to pay for it - which may take into account how much it cost to make. But the swan is a modest little item from a provincial factory - it's not on a par with Chelsea or Meissen.
The most valuable item in this room, as far as I'm concerned, is the little box, a 1/8 scale model of an antique oak coffer that my husband made for me. It took him many hours and was done with love and considerable care and skill. Its monetary value is negligible, but that doesn't matter, as it'll never be for sale, not in my lifetime. It didn't cost a lot to make unless you include his time. Which he gave.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Bringing on the wall, Day 46 - a level building field
The weather is so changeable at present - it was very windy and rained last night, but this morning was clear, dry and still. Squiffany and I had breakfast and she wanted to watch television, and CITV was having a Horrid Henry morning, which could not possibly be bettered, so I left her there and went out to meet Dave. She came out later to see us, and asked about the mortar. I explained that it was used to stick the bricks together, like icing in a cake. Dave said he'd been going to say glue. When the Sage brought another pailful of mortar, he tipped it out of the bucket to fall "like a cowpat", he said. Dave and I agreed we'd have described it as cake mix.
We had a good morning and it was warm in the sun. The warmth of autumn, not summer, though. Dave worked on the end pillar and I worked on the two courses needed to make the wall level all along, except for the middle pillar.
Poor photos, I'm afraid, but to take a more direct shot from the drive meant looking straight at the sun. You can see that we've put the ornamental blocks in place. If we get any more work done this autumn, we'll start on them. Our priority is to complete the pillar if possible, but Dave and I worked out various contingency plans - in fact, a gate could be hung from the pillar as it is, if necessary. There's no realistic possibility of the job being completed this year.
When we'd finished, the Sage went to fetch something to show Dave. And here it is for you to see as well.
A little china cygnet, made about 230 years ago and still in perfect condition. I love it. It was last sold 24 years ago, and its (damaged) pair was sold too as a separate lot. Those are the only two that I know of, though there are a few plain white swans about too.
I can't resist giving you a close-up shot. It is a lovely simple piece of china, finely moulded and beautifully painted.
Friday, 1 October 2010
Z gets out the clippers
I'm steeling myself to cut Tilly's toenails. She has black claws, so it's difficult to tell where to cut. I could take her to the vet each time, of course, but she'd hate it and she might as well be more relaxed on her own sofa.
It's a busy few days at present, with a lot of visitors. More or less business callers in the main, although most of our clients are friends too, after all these years. The cake and flapjacks have all been eaten - Pugsley finished the last of it at dinner time. Squiffany chose strawberries instead. He didn't spend the night but decided that he wanted to be home with his mummy - he was quite happy about it and so was his sister, until after lights out, when I found her crying for her brother. I comforted and cuddled her and left her reading for a while longer, and when I returned she was asleep with the book still in her hands. She's in the room next to ours, so we'll hear her if she wakes in the night. I might leave a light on in the bathroom in fact - if she does get up, it will be confusing.
I've only just finished work for the evening and am finally relaxing with some music. I mostly play the same few albums at present, four or five of them. When I'm busy, I don't seem to want variety. It's Tom Waits' Alice tonight.
It has, as forecast, rained this afternoon and evening. Dave assures me that the forecast is fine for tomorrow; let's hope it's correct. The Sage and I put a new lead on the cement mixer and checked that it's working. We've got more callers in the afternoon and then the Harvest Supper in the evening. I've got easy jobs this year - baking the potatoes, providing a cheeseboard and a fruit salad. I've been let off helping to lay tables and setting up the room because of the bricklaying plans.
I didn't say yesterday, it was Dora's birthday. Ro went round to her house during the day (her landlady lent him a key) to bake her a cake and arrange flowers.
It's a busy few days at present, with a lot of visitors. More or less business callers in the main, although most of our clients are friends too, after all these years. The cake and flapjacks have all been eaten - Pugsley finished the last of it at dinner time. Squiffany chose strawberries instead. He didn't spend the night but decided that he wanted to be home with his mummy - he was quite happy about it and so was his sister, until after lights out, when I found her crying for her brother. I comforted and cuddled her and left her reading for a while longer, and when I returned she was asleep with the book still in her hands. She's in the room next to ours, so we'll hear her if she wakes in the night. I might leave a light on in the bathroom in fact - if she does get up, it will be confusing.
I've only just finished work for the evening and am finally relaxing with some music. I mostly play the same few albums at present, four or five of them. When I'm busy, I don't seem to want variety. It's Tom Waits' Alice tonight.
It has, as forecast, rained this afternoon and evening. Dave assures me that the forecast is fine for tomorrow; let's hope it's correct. The Sage and I put a new lead on the cement mixer and checked that it's working. We've got more callers in the afternoon and then the Harvest Supper in the evening. I've got easy jobs this year - baking the potatoes, providing a cheeseboard and a fruit salad. I've been let off helping to lay tables and setting up the room because of the bricklaying plans.
I didn't say yesterday, it was Dora's birthday. Ro went round to her house during the day (her landlady lent him a key) to bake her a cake and arrange flowers.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Bringing on the wall ... stonewalled
Dave sent an alert comment this morning, pointing out that the weather was fine and suggesting a half-day of bricklaying. We had some friends visiting this morning, so it was settled that he'd come at 1 o'clock.
The friends, whom we visited a few months ago in North Kent for lunch, came over and benefitted from the flapjacks (English flapjacks) that I'd made, with coffee. We had a very jolly morning, until I had a phone call from the caff at half past twelve, saying that Meals on Wheels had yet to be delivered. I hastened into town, puzzled that the reminder hadn't come up on my phone - by the time I arrived, I'd realised that the problem was a fifth Thursday. I give everyone on the rota the same day of the same week per month, but there are three extra Tuesdays and Thursdays a year, and the latter are down to me - and I hadn't marked it down.
You know, if you apologise and say it's all your own fault, people are so kind and ready to wave it aside. Far better than making excuses, which are quite irritating.
Anyway, I arrived back just before Dave arrived and made tea for him while the Sage got ready to mix the mortar. We went to get more sand and cement - and found the wheelbarrow tyre was flat. I went and fetched the pump - it was fiddly to attach, so the Sage had to be called. It's been several rainy weeks since the last lot of cement was delivered and there is damp at one end of the bags, but there was some usable stuff. Dave and I were chatting when the Sage called, asking me to reset the switch on the circuit breaker. The cement mixer still didn't work. I checked the freezer, plugged into the same extension, and that had just gone off - evidently the fuse had blown.
I'll not take you through the full sequence of events, but it turned out, after much effort, that the lead from the cement mixer is in very poor condition. It's old and has always been kept outside. After an hour of faffing about, it was agreed that there was no point in carrying on today. We were all entirely good-natured about it - sometimes there's just nothing to fight against. Fortunately, I'd made a cake as well as the flapjacks, so we went and had tea, having filled Dave's car with bricks. Just for the fun of it, you know.
The Sage intends to get a new lead tomorrow and we'll try again on Saturday.
Later this afternoon, I took Squiffany and Pugsley to the park. On the way home, we mostly picked and ate blackberries. I counselled against picking the low ones. "Why?" asked Squiffany, interestedly. I explained that dogs might have piddled on them, which was a satisfactory reply.
I have invited them in for tea tomorrow, and Squiffany hopes to stay the night. Pugsley is a little more doubtful about that, but we'll see when the time comes.
The friends, whom we visited a few months ago in North Kent for lunch, came over and benefitted from the flapjacks (English flapjacks) that I'd made, with coffee. We had a very jolly morning, until I had a phone call from the caff at half past twelve, saying that Meals on Wheels had yet to be delivered. I hastened into town, puzzled that the reminder hadn't come up on my phone - by the time I arrived, I'd realised that the problem was a fifth Thursday. I give everyone on the rota the same day of the same week per month, but there are three extra Tuesdays and Thursdays a year, and the latter are down to me - and I hadn't marked it down.
You know, if you apologise and say it's all your own fault, people are so kind and ready to wave it aside. Far better than making excuses, which are quite irritating.
Anyway, I arrived back just before Dave arrived and made tea for him while the Sage got ready to mix the mortar. We went to get more sand and cement - and found the wheelbarrow tyre was flat. I went and fetched the pump - it was fiddly to attach, so the Sage had to be called. It's been several rainy weeks since the last lot of cement was delivered and there is damp at one end of the bags, but there was some usable stuff. Dave and I were chatting when the Sage called, asking me to reset the switch on the circuit breaker. The cement mixer still didn't work. I checked the freezer, plugged into the same extension, and that had just gone off - evidently the fuse had blown.
I'll not take you through the full sequence of events, but it turned out, after much effort, that the lead from the cement mixer is in very poor condition. It's old and has always been kept outside. After an hour of faffing about, it was agreed that there was no point in carrying on today. We were all entirely good-natured about it - sometimes there's just nothing to fight against. Fortunately, I'd made a cake as well as the flapjacks, so we went and had tea, having filled Dave's car with bricks. Just for the fun of it, you know.
The Sage intends to get a new lead tomorrow and we'll try again on Saturday.
Later this afternoon, I took Squiffany and Pugsley to the park. On the way home, we mostly picked and ate blackberries. I counselled against picking the low ones. "Why?" asked Squiffany, interestedly. I explained that dogs might have piddled on them, which was a satisfactory reply.
I have invited them in for tea tomorrow, and Squiffany hopes to stay the night. Pugsley is a little more doubtful about that, but we'll see when the time comes.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Pugsley Goes Fourth
Pugsley was really excited and happy about his birthday. He was at nursery school until after lunch, so we went through in the afternoon with his presents. He came rushing towards me, arms outstretched ... for the parcels - but he did thank me enthusiastically, and he found something very pleased to say about all of them. While his parents were getting the party food ready, he and I made a Lego helicopter. He's extremely good at Lego - needs a little help with the instructions, but the box did say age 5-8; I bought it anyway as I know he's able to manage it. We walked to school to fetch Squiffany and then hurried home for the party.
About 18 children, aged from 2 - 5, plus several mums, about 25 of us all told. Lucky they have a big sitting room. All were very good and joined in and had fun. I have spent the evening at their house too, as Al had a governors' meeting and Dilly was tutoring.
I wanted to copy an article from the newspaper yesterday but found that two colours of ink had run out, and I hadn't any of one left. So I got online to order more ink cartridges. I was very gratified when the order turned up today in the post. I'd had the paper copied in school, by the way - it was for one of the staff and one of the governors, so it was quite legit (though I did offer to pay).
My bank debit card is due to run out at the end of the month, and it occurred to me last week that I should have had a new one in plenty of time, so I went into the bank on Monday. The teller cancelled the replacement that had been posted last month (it hasn't been used, my account is okay) and said I should allow seven working days for the new one to arrive. It actually arrived this morning. Can't get better than that.
After having put off using the PDF rewriter programme as I didn't feel quite up to the stress of possibly not being able to do it, I found it quite easy after all. I had to borrow the Sage's laptop because the programme isn't for Macs - if I did that more often, I'd have to find a reasonably high table for it. Bending to see the screen (it's a large one, but smaller than mine by some way) gave me backache. Still, good for me to get practice with using it as I have to think my way through the process every time. Like Weeza, who grumbles every time she has occasion to use my computer as, to her, it's awkward.
Anyway, what with one thing and another, I'm starting to relax. I actually could be quite up together with things by the end of the week. Pity about the weather - we're almost giving up hope of getting any more wall built before it gets too cold for us fun-lovers to want to bother, but never mind. It seems that our end-of-wall celebration will have to wait until next year in any case. The good thing is that we should be able to hold it in the summer rather than the autumn. You're all still invited, whenever it happens. And always welcome to drop in in the meantime, of course.
About 18 children, aged from 2 - 5, plus several mums, about 25 of us all told. Lucky they have a big sitting room. All were very good and joined in and had fun. I have spent the evening at their house too, as Al had a governors' meeting and Dilly was tutoring.
I wanted to copy an article from the newspaper yesterday but found that two colours of ink had run out, and I hadn't any of one left. So I got online to order more ink cartridges. I was very gratified when the order turned up today in the post. I'd had the paper copied in school, by the way - it was for one of the staff and one of the governors, so it was quite legit (though I did offer to pay).
My bank debit card is due to run out at the end of the month, and it occurred to me last week that I should have had a new one in plenty of time, so I went into the bank on Monday. The teller cancelled the replacement that had been posted last month (it hasn't been used, my account is okay) and said I should allow seven working days for the new one to arrive. It actually arrived this morning. Can't get better than that.
After having put off using the PDF rewriter programme as I didn't feel quite up to the stress of possibly not being able to do it, I found it quite easy after all. I had to borrow the Sage's laptop because the programme isn't for Macs - if I did that more often, I'd have to find a reasonably high table for it. Bending to see the screen (it's a large one, but smaller than mine by some way) gave me backache. Still, good for me to get practice with using it as I have to think my way through the process every time. Like Weeza, who grumbles every time she has occasion to use my computer as, to her, it's awkward.
Anyway, what with one thing and another, I'm starting to relax. I actually could be quite up together with things by the end of the week. Pity about the weather - we're almost giving up hope of getting any more wall built before it gets too cold for us fun-lovers to want to bother, but never mind. It seems that our end-of-wall celebration will have to wait until next year in any case. The good thing is that we should be able to hold it in the summer rather than the autumn. You're all still invited, whenever it happens. And always welcome to drop in in the meantime, of course.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Z's sins are scarlet but her blogs are 'read'
Not actually read, I'm afraid. I've given in, marked 'all read' and will try to keep up from now on. I'm sorry, I just couldn't catch up.
I said a couple of weeks ago that I was going to delete any blogs where I didn't feel a personal involvement, including those whose writers never commented on mine or acknowledged me - of course, I revisited any blog before I deleted it, and hardly any have gone. I only read blogs whose writers I like or whose writing I like, so I can't be selective and decide whether you're 'worthy' of being written by the criterion of you getting around to commenting here. That would be a bit arrogant of me.
Right, that's that out of the way. But transferring to G-Reader from Bloglines meant some duplications and I've not been able to sort it out, so I'm starting again.
I spent most of the day at the school, in music lessons. I am fond of 13-year-olds. And, at this stage of the school year, they're all polite and respectful and they thank you for any help! I'm not cut out to be a teacher, but I like helping voluntarily. I'm jolly lucky, in fact because the voluntary work that I'm mysteriously compelled to do is, mostly, a pleasure. There are a couple of things I'd like to ditch and another I rather wish I hadn't taken on, but no matter.
And now I realise that a couple of emails haven't yet been sent. I must go, darlings, because I must write them this evening.
I said a couple of weeks ago that I was going to delete any blogs where I didn't feel a personal involvement, including those whose writers never commented on mine or acknowledged me - of course, I revisited any blog before I deleted it, and hardly any have gone. I only read blogs whose writers I like or whose writing I like, so I can't be selective and decide whether you're 'worthy' of being written by the criterion of you getting around to commenting here. That would be a bit arrogant of me.
Right, that's that out of the way. But transferring to G-Reader from Bloglines meant some duplications and I've not been able to sort it out, so I'm starting again.
I spent most of the day at the school, in music lessons. I am fond of 13-year-olds. And, at this stage of the school year, they're all polite and respectful and they thank you for any help! I'm not cut out to be a teacher, but I like helping voluntarily. I'm jolly lucky, in fact because the voluntary work that I'm mysteriously compelled to do is, mostly, a pleasure. There are a couple of things I'd like to ditch and another I rather wish I hadn't taken on, but no matter.
And now I realise that a couple of emails haven't yet been sent. I must go, darlings, because I must write them this evening.
Monday, 27 September 2010
Z's house - 1 - first in an occasional series
Today, I'm mostly focussing upon friends who have troubles of one sort and another - Christopher, Dandelion (who has too much on her mind to be reading this) and *the other one with problems*, you are in my most loving thoughts. That there are three being thought of doesn't lessen the strength of goodwill to each of you.
I also thought I'd show you one of the tidy corners of the kitchen. And, that I consider this tidy - albeit cluttered - maybe shows how there's no hope at all of ever clearing up.
This is where I keep tea and coffee, right by the kettle. You might be able to see that there's a jamjar containing infusers, so that I can make one mug of tea at a time, using the tea of choice from one of the canisters. Some of them contain teabags, most leaves. The pink tin contains coffee beans, and the small plastic lidded box on the grinder is where I put the ground coffee - you can't really grind enough for one cup, unless you have a machine to do it in. The small cafetière was unwashed from last night. The little tray is for receiving the teabag or contents of infuser. At present, I have ten different teas on the go, eight to choose from and two more for those who prefer a more traditional cup. That's not counting tisanes, of course.
The table-top cooker is for when the Aga is turned off - not that it was, this last summer. So I put things on it. I hang up pots and pans so that they're right there when I want them - life's too short to fish things out of a cupboard.
And that explains why I don't think it's untidy. They're all there for a reason and they are all in frequent use. Purposeful clutter isn't necessarily untidy.
And this is a cupboard in the bathroom, built by the Sage to hide a truly hideous fireplace and wallpapered by me. I wallpaper with care and do it well. The bathroom walls, floor and ceiling all slant marvellously and it took ages to get everything right. It is all exactly perpendicular and all the patterns match and there are no bubbles. It needs redoing actually, it's getting grubby. I still like it though, probably because it isn't in the least bathroomy.
The little wooden knobs were made by the Sage, there are four of them. When he'd made the cupboards, he nipped down to the churchyard with a saw, pruned a yew and turned the knobs on his lathe. The whole thing was done in half an hour.
The doors do fit - one was slightly open. I thought that closing it before taking the picture would be cheating a bit, so I left it.
I also thought I'd show you one of the tidy corners of the kitchen. And, that I consider this tidy - albeit cluttered - maybe shows how there's no hope at all of ever clearing up.
The table-top cooker is for when the Aga is turned off - not that it was, this last summer. So I put things on it. I hang up pots and pans so that they're right there when I want them - life's too short to fish things out of a cupboard.
And that explains why I don't think it's untidy. They're all there for a reason and they are all in frequent use. Purposeful clutter isn't necessarily untidy.
The little wooden knobs were made by the Sage, there are four of them. When he'd made the cupboards, he nipped down to the churchyard with a saw, pruned a yew and turned the knobs on his lathe. The whole thing was done in half an hour.
The doors do fit - one was slightly open. I thought that closing it before taking the picture would be cheating a bit, so I left it.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Domeztic Zqualor
So, how do you furnish your rooms? I do it with books, the Sage with pictures. I would like to be less cluttered than we are, but I lost the battle a long time ago. If there's a space, the Sage fills it. I'm not saying I like to be tidy, I'm a bit uncomfortable if it's too tidy. The Sage doesn't notice anyway.
I think, in most marriages, one party does the tidying up? Or grumbles if it's not to their liking, anyway. Unfortunately, that's neither of us - well, I do the tidying up in the end, but only because the Sage never would. This is quite all right, it's his house and his choice. I wouldn't care for him to fuss around telling me to put things away and I don't do it to him; I'm not his mother-figure. I do occasionally tell him that the level of squalor distresses me, and he wrings his hands and promises reform, but I know he doesn't mean it for a minute. When he leaves something lying around, it's usually not for a month that I politely mention it and he immediately puts it away, assuring me that he was going to do it that very day, in any case.
Anyway, rooms - I don't see the point of chairs that are stylish at the expense of comfort. My mother would choose style over comfort, but I wouldn't. But I'm not that practical. I like a bedroom that looks like a sitting room that happens to have a bed in it, so there are Victorian chaise longues and settees in there and no dressing table. And the bathroom, cloakroom and kitchen are all wallpapered. Nothing clinical at all, no gleaming tiles. Bare floorboards in the bathroom, that haven't been sealed and are, once in a while, scrubbed.
Mostly, comfort and togetherness. When my children were young, their computer was in the drawing room. A cluttered corner and sound effects from games was preferable to them being franked up in the hold of a far-away bedroom. I played the games too, until they got too graphic and too difficult for me. Just as I read children's books; we were part of the same family, until they reached the age of teenage (mostly) distance.
Now, my own computer is in here, in the drawing room, and a messy corner that is too. I don't care, it's where I work. And where I am now. I could be in the study - and before wifi, I would have been, but that's hardly family-friendly (though actually, the Sage would probably be in there with me).
The only essential in every room is books. I can't do without, even when I'm not reading them. Like Rog, the internet has taken over to an alarming extent, though I still become engrossed if it's a good enough book. I'm afraid that few newly-published 'literary' books are worth bothering with. I've read too much well-reviewed, even prizewinning, dross and I'm not up for that much disappointment any more. The most recent book I have bought for myself is about old vegetable and fruit varieties, which is really interesting. 'Forgotten Fruits', it's called.
The other thing I really like is the washing machine in a room of its own, with a drain in the floor. Once you've had one flood in the kitchen, you don't want another.
I like clocks, but I don't like the ticking, so they're never wound up. And I like a big table so that lots of us can all eat comfortably together. And I like nice silver, but I'm not bothered about the glasses. They always go cloudy from the dishwasher in the end, or else I break them, so I buy cheap glasses. And I don't bother about matching mugs. They are quite random, but at least I'll give myself the chipped one. The matching cups and saucers are late Victorian, quite without value but delicate.
I think, in most marriages, one party does the tidying up? Or grumbles if it's not to their liking, anyway. Unfortunately, that's neither of us - well, I do the tidying up in the end, but only because the Sage never would. This is quite all right, it's his house and his choice. I wouldn't care for him to fuss around telling me to put things away and I don't do it to him; I'm not his mother-figure. I do occasionally tell him that the level of squalor distresses me, and he wrings his hands and promises reform, but I know he doesn't mean it for a minute. When he leaves something lying around, it's usually not for a month that I politely mention it and he immediately puts it away, assuring me that he was going to do it that very day, in any case.
Anyway, rooms - I don't see the point of chairs that are stylish at the expense of comfort. My mother would choose style over comfort, but I wouldn't. But I'm not that practical. I like a bedroom that looks like a sitting room that happens to have a bed in it, so there are Victorian chaise longues and settees in there and no dressing table. And the bathroom, cloakroom and kitchen are all wallpapered. Nothing clinical at all, no gleaming tiles. Bare floorboards in the bathroom, that haven't been sealed and are, once in a while, scrubbed.
Mostly, comfort and togetherness. When my children were young, their computer was in the drawing room. A cluttered corner and sound effects from games was preferable to them being franked up in the hold of a far-away bedroom. I played the games too, until they got too graphic and too difficult for me. Just as I read children's books; we were part of the same family, until they reached the age of teenage (mostly) distance.
Now, my own computer is in here, in the drawing room, and a messy corner that is too. I don't care, it's where I work. And where I am now. I could be in the study - and before wifi, I would have been, but that's hardly family-friendly (though actually, the Sage would probably be in there with me).
The only essential in every room is books. I can't do without, even when I'm not reading them. Like Rog, the internet has taken over to an alarming extent, though I still become engrossed if it's a good enough book. I'm afraid that few newly-published 'literary' books are worth bothering with. I've read too much well-reviewed, even prizewinning, dross and I'm not up for that much disappointment any more. The most recent book I have bought for myself is about old vegetable and fruit varieties, which is really interesting. 'Forgotten Fruits', it's called.
The other thing I really like is the washing machine in a room of its own, with a drain in the floor. Once you've had one flood in the kitchen, you don't want another.
I like clocks, but I don't like the ticking, so they're never wound up. And I like a big table so that lots of us can all eat comfortably together. And I like nice silver, but I'm not bothered about the glasses. They always go cloudy from the dishwasher in the end, or else I break them, so I buy cheap glasses. And I don't bother about matching mugs. They are quite random, but at least I'll give myself the chipped one. The matching cups and saucers are late Victorian, quite without value but delicate.
Saturday, 25 September 2010
Zaturday night
I was quite flattered to be asked if I'd mind sending a copy of my notes, as they would be so useful. I gave the governor who had asked the copy I'd brought. I'd written the whole speech in full, four A4 sheets, although I didn't read them out. I followed the structure though. It seemed to go down well and the LA people beamed, because I (genuinely) gave the positive message about schools working in partnership that they were wanting to promote.
I suppose the time has come when I must finally work out a way of recognising which is David and which is Ed.
The nights are a lot cooler now and I'm sleeping correspondingly better. I thought I would. Still reading through the early hours, but less. 'Diary of a Nobody' at present - one can download out-of-copyright books free so, since I don't want to be too excited at that time in the morning (not by a book, at any rate) I choose books I've already read.
I suppose the time has come when I must finally work out a way of recognising which is David and which is Ed.
The nights are a lot cooler now and I'm sleeping correspondingly better. I thought I would. Still reading through the early hours, but less. 'Diary of a Nobody' at present - one can download out-of-copyright books free so, since I don't want to be too excited at that time in the morning (not by a book, at any rate) I choose books I've already read.
Friday, 24 September 2010
That which we call a fish
Talking about names yesterday made me think of a woman I heard on her mobile on the train yesterday. "I'm, Lizzie Herring," she said. "Like the fish," she added cheerily, because I suppose she might as well. It reminded me of how many people I know, or have known, whose surnames are the names of fish. I have a friend called Fish and knew a family called Salmon, I know a chap called Haddock, used to know Mr & Mrs Trout - and now there's Lizzie. I rather like it. Of course, the East coast used to be a wealthy fishing area. One of the surnames in Lowestoft - originally from a village just outside - is Catchpole. So I suppose it's not unlikely that those fishermen should have become known by the names of their catches. Unless it was the other way round and the fish were named after the people. Hm.
When I got back to Liverpool Street yesterday, it struck me how completely wedded we are to our phones. The difference is that, around here, it's mostly youngsters texting. In the city, everyone is speaking on their mobiles. I went for lunch and sat by the window (a slight mistake when you're having hot and sour prawn noodle soup as it is impossible to eat tidily. I was sorry that I must have rather revolted the assistants in the salad bar opposite) and at no time could I not see at least one person on the phone; this in a quiet side street. I suppose it means one doesn't waste time as one walks somewhere. Not that I'm criticising, I made my own share of calls and it was extremely useful to be away from the home phone yet still be able to email. Few people know my mobile phone number - I always use that phone but friends and colleagues normally ring me at home.
I finished the document this evening - that is, re-read and re-tweaked. Sadly, it can't be delivered in under 15 minutes. I could abbreviate it by leaving out chunks of the narrative, but everything is informative and gives a coherent explanation of the history and current situation of our school partnership. When I arrive tomorrow, I'll have a word with the organiser and check. I have been asked for 15 minutes-worth but they might not expect me to talk quite so solidly for that time. It was interesting to write it and find that, actually, I've been following the events of the past 2 1/2 years quite closely, when I rather thought that a lot of it had gone over my head. I finished with a reasoned endorsement of partnership between schools - I hope that, when ours comes to its natural conclusion in 2 years time, it will be re-formed on new lines, between the high school and its seven feeder primaries.
I take all this worryingly seriously. Maybe it gives meaning to my life, Dave?
When I got back to Liverpool Street yesterday, it struck me how completely wedded we are to our phones. The difference is that, around here, it's mostly youngsters texting. In the city, everyone is speaking on their mobiles. I went for lunch and sat by the window (a slight mistake when you're having hot and sour prawn noodle soup as it is impossible to eat tidily. I was sorry that I must have rather revolted the assistants in the salad bar opposite) and at no time could I not see at least one person on the phone; this in a quiet side street. I suppose it means one doesn't waste time as one walks somewhere. Not that I'm criticising, I made my own share of calls and it was extremely useful to be away from the home phone yet still be able to email. Few people know my mobile phone number - I always use that phone but friends and colleagues normally ring me at home.
I finished the document this evening - that is, re-read and re-tweaked. Sadly, it can't be delivered in under 15 minutes. I could abbreviate it by leaving out chunks of the narrative, but everything is informative and gives a coherent explanation of the history and current situation of our school partnership. When I arrive tomorrow, I'll have a word with the organiser and check. I have been asked for 15 minutes-worth but they might not expect me to talk quite so solidly for that time. It was interesting to write it and find that, actually, I've been following the events of the past 2 1/2 years quite closely, when I rather thought that a lot of it had gone over my head. I finished with a reasoned endorsement of partnership between schools - I hope that, when ours comes to its natural conclusion in 2 years time, it will be re-formed on new lines, between the high school and its seven feeder primaries.
I take all this worryingly seriously. Maybe it gives meaning to my life, Dave?
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Whoops
I forgot you, darlings. I'm so sorry. I've spent the last couple of hours on that presentation I'm doing on Saturday and then I came to bed. Let's be glad of the iPhone, hey, for without it there would be no post at all.
A successful London visit, in that the boilers are serviced and checked and the certification delivered to the agent. By the time that was done, I wasn't in the mood for art so I had a leisurely, albeit light, lunch instead. I went back to Liverpool street and, as I went past the Swiss bank, three men came out with a purposeful lunchward air. So I followed them. I reckoned they'd know a good place and so it proved. So I had prawn and noodle hot and sour soup and green tea, which was light and tasty and just what I needed, though I'd thought to have salad. Afterwards, it was the shortest of strolls back to the station.
I received an email from a chap whose wife's name is Halcyon. I'm awfully impressed. Isn't that an excellent name? Wouldn't it be splendid if her maiden name had been Day? Surely, it must have been, though I shall never know. I can hardly ask.
Anyway, off to sleep now. Must get in that first vital hour before tossing and turning the rest of the night.
A successful London visit, in that the boilers are serviced and checked and the certification delivered to the agent. By the time that was done, I wasn't in the mood for art so I had a leisurely, albeit light, lunch instead. I went back to Liverpool street and, as I went past the Swiss bank, three men came out with a purposeful lunchward air. So I followed them. I reckoned they'd know a good place and so it proved. So I had prawn and noodle hot and sour soup and green tea, which was light and tasty and just what I needed, though I'd thought to have salad. Afterwards, it was the shortest of strolls back to the station.
I received an email from a chap whose wife's name is Halcyon. I'm awfully impressed. Isn't that an excellent name? Wouldn't it be splendid if her maiden name had been Day? Surely, it must have been, though I shall never know. I can hardly ask.
Anyway, off to sleep now. Must get in that first vital hour before tossing and turning the rest of the night.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Z is reZolute
I wrote a whole long post, which was a bit of a rant, and then deleted it. Some matters are best not shared on the open web, even if the intention is to delete after a couple of days.
I received a most apologetic phone call this morning from the lady I complained about yesterday, and all is well there. I draw a line and now we're friends.
I'm feeling a bit less friendly towards Bod, but I've worked out a way forward. I resent letting his arrangements go ahead, as he'll think I was merely making a fuss, but it's better to be gracious than resentful.
I am mentally writing my talk for Saturday. I have put a few words down, and I think that enthusiasm will carry me through. I will write more, probably the whole thing in full, and then condense into bullet points which I hope not to look at when the time comes.
I haven't looked again at Nuance, the PDF rewriter. This is stupid. I must. I'm avoiding, and this is, to repeat, stupid. I haven't yet had all the forms back, which is a poor excuse.
I was awake half the night worrying. This is also stupid, but I couldn't help it.
One can choose. I will choose to be calm and relaxed, though possibly I won't be able to put choices into practice until noon on Saturday.
I feel better now. If you have been, thanks for listening.
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Life is simpler in Blogland
And tonight someone asked me for my address to send a cheque. The address that, with my name, is on the booking form that I emailed out 5 weeks ago and again yesterday. Honestly, darlings, one needs a bit of patience. Though I don't get too fussed, usually.
I received a compliment this afternoon actually, from someone to whom I described the approximate form of the presentation I'm giving on Saturday (still haven't got it done). She asked me what my job had been, evidently thinking that I used to do this sort of thing. I confessed that I've never had a proper job and I'm not trained for anything. Well, I say confessed, but it's nothing I'm bothered about. As long as I'm not paid, I have nothing to prove. I do my best and if it's not enough, I don't mind being told. Anyway, she was surprised, which surprises me somewhat, as I very much admire her abilities - she can do what I can't, effortlessly. I just bluff well.
Things seem to be going a bit awry this evening, after a good day. I've had a really quite snotty email - dictated to her husband, apparently - saying that she doesn't see why she should have the burden of sending me a lecture report form. Okay, fine, I don't mind - why does she feel the need to be rude to me about it? I have the feeling that she thinks I'm paid for this job (and, as I'm an underling, she's entitled to be high-handed). In my mild-mannered reply, I've mentioned that I'm a volunteer too.
Also, I've had an email from Bod, Wink's fellow. They would like me to go on holiday with them in November, and Bod has been enthusiastically making arrangements. A couple of days ago, I reminded him that we've got an auction on the last Friday in October and I've got work to do after that, so if he wanted to leave that weekend, I needed to see if I could fit in. He seems to have said that he's booked a flight from Gatwick, leaving before noon on Sunday 31st. I can't possibly do that. Sunday train services are dreadful from here to London and one is always bussed part of the way. Then I'd have to get across London and over to Gatwick, by about 9.30. Did I mention on a Sunday? I very clearly said a couple of days ago, let me know the arrangements and if I couldn't fit in, I'd say so. If he's booked, I won't be pleased.
Anyway, I had been feeling all cheery and relaxed. I'm not, quite so much, now.
I received a compliment this afternoon actually, from someone to whom I described the approximate form of the presentation I'm giving on Saturday (still haven't got it done). She asked me what my job had been, evidently thinking that I used to do this sort of thing. I confessed that I've never had a proper job and I'm not trained for anything. Well, I say confessed, but it's nothing I'm bothered about. As long as I'm not paid, I have nothing to prove. I do my best and if it's not enough, I don't mind being told. Anyway, she was surprised, which surprises me somewhat, as I very much admire her abilities - she can do what I can't, effortlessly. I just bluff well.
Things seem to be going a bit awry this evening, after a good day. I've had a really quite snotty email - dictated to her husband, apparently - saying that she doesn't see why she should have the burden of sending me a lecture report form. Okay, fine, I don't mind - why does she feel the need to be rude to me about it? I have the feeling that she thinks I'm paid for this job (and, as I'm an underling, she's entitled to be high-handed). In my mild-mannered reply, I've mentioned that I'm a volunteer too.
Also, I've had an email from Bod, Wink's fellow. They would like me to go on holiday with them in November, and Bod has been enthusiastically making arrangements. A couple of days ago, I reminded him that we've got an auction on the last Friday in October and I've got work to do after that, so if he wanted to leave that weekend, I needed to see if I could fit in. He seems to have said that he's booked a flight from Gatwick, leaving before noon on Sunday 31st. I can't possibly do that. Sunday train services are dreadful from here to London and one is always bussed part of the way. Then I'd have to get across London and over to Gatwick, by about 9.30. Did I mention on a Sunday? I very clearly said a couple of days ago, let me know the arrangements and if I couldn't fit in, I'd say so. If he's booked, I won't be pleased.
Anyway, I had been feeling all cheery and relaxed. I'm not, quite so much, now.
Monday, 20 September 2010
It's not all Z's fault
I'd been blaming myself for not keeping things up to scratch, but now I've checked through thoroughly, I was in almost every particular. Most importantly, I'd kept a record of the cheques sent - and the cheques themselves, of course. So this morning, I sent out an email to everyone who hadn't yet sent in their evaluation forms and/or their cheques - the former by email, the latter by post.
I've had several replies, most of them promises of answers pdq, but one was from someone protesting that he'd sent his cheque. I've checked through, and he has. But he put down West Suffolk instead of Bury St Edmunds on the accompanying form, so I credited it to West Suffolk, who hasn't paid up. And another email was from someone who said that she'd sent me the details - which she has - and that their society treasurer is also Area treasurer, so he would deal with the finance direct. PITY HE DIDN'T TELL ME, THEN. Sorry to shout. It's been a bit like that.
I also had an email from someone who didn't like a form having a yellow background in one section because of the extra ink involved printing it out. He went all environmental on me. I wrote back cheerfully suggesting he read it online and not bother to print it out at all, thus saving the paper and the ink (the reason it's in yellow is to show people where they may type, as most of it can't be altered). But you know, he was barely polite - frankly, I was treated as a lowly-paid employee rather than an unpaid volunteer like him ... but it's those who are paid less who deserve the kindest treatment - I don't mind being taken to task when I've screwed up, but I'm still doing it for free, you know. I'm sorry, here I'm going to quote my great-grandmother, whom I never met. She used to say to my (very young) mother "my dear, never be rude to those who cannot answer back." There is no excuse for being lofty with someone whom you perceive as being in a menial position. None. That's flat.
The Head told me this evening that a North Norfolk titled bloke (no gentleman, I fear) was extremely rude to a young teacher who was giving up her weekend to take some of our children on a Duke of Edinburgh Award trip. Whilst not wanting to make it Googleable, I'm going to name names because, apparently, he behaved like an upper-class shit. She had arranged to camp on some of his many thousands of acres and, because a completely separate booking had left a mess, he chose to blame the schoolchildren who had been there too, but in a different area. He was very intimidating and rude to her and accused her of not having booked at all - he'd evidently forgotten having spoken to her himself a few months ago when he took the booking. For money, which was paid. Lord W@lp0le may be a Baron, but he is no gentleman. I think he'd not have spoken to me that way, because he'd have recognised someone on what he'd consider his level. I can't bear the "class" thing and don't do it. But I can do it, if it's necessary. I'd have been what my children call "fruity".
Anyway, the Head has written a totally tongue-in-cheek letter of apology, which will make the Baron embarrassed if he has any shred of decency. I don't know the fellow, so he may not.
I've had several replies, most of them promises of answers pdq, but one was from someone protesting that he'd sent his cheque. I've checked through, and he has. But he put down West Suffolk instead of Bury St Edmunds on the accompanying form, so I credited it to West Suffolk, who hasn't paid up. And another email was from someone who said that she'd sent me the details - which she has - and that their society treasurer is also Area treasurer, so he would deal with the finance direct. PITY HE DIDN'T TELL ME, THEN. Sorry to shout. It's been a bit like that.
I also had an email from someone who didn't like a form having a yellow background in one section because of the extra ink involved printing it out. He went all environmental on me. I wrote back cheerfully suggesting he read it online and not bother to print it out at all, thus saving the paper and the ink (the reason it's in yellow is to show people where they may type, as most of it can't be altered). But you know, he was barely polite - frankly, I was treated as a lowly-paid employee rather than an unpaid volunteer like him ... but it's those who are paid less who deserve the kindest treatment - I don't mind being taken to task when I've screwed up, but I'm still doing it for free, you know. I'm sorry, here I'm going to quote my great-grandmother, whom I never met. She used to say to my (very young) mother "my dear, never be rude to those who cannot answer back." There is no excuse for being lofty with someone whom you perceive as being in a menial position. None. That's flat.
The Head told me this evening that a North Norfolk titled bloke (no gentleman, I fear) was extremely rude to a young teacher who was giving up her weekend to take some of our children on a Duke of Edinburgh Award trip. Whilst not wanting to make it Googleable, I'm going to name names because, apparently, he behaved like an upper-class shit. She had arranged to camp on some of his many thousands of acres and, because a completely separate booking had left a mess, he chose to blame the schoolchildren who had been there too, but in a different area. He was very intimidating and rude to her and accused her of not having booked at all - he'd evidently forgotten having spoken to her himself a few months ago when he took the booking. For money, which was paid. Lord W@lp0le may be a Baron, but he is no gentleman. I think he'd not have spoken to me that way, because he'd have recognised someone on what he'd consider his level. I can't bear the "class" thing and don't do it. But I can do it, if it's necessary. I'd have been what my children call "fruity".
Anyway, the Head has written a totally tongue-in-cheek letter of apology, which will make the Baron embarrassed if he has any shred of decency. I don't know the fellow, so he may not.
Sunday, 19 September 2010
Like a dog
I was just on my way to bed when I realised that something was lacking in my day. So here I am.
I have got quite a lot done this evening actually - not the things I intended to do, but anything achieved makes one feel better. And, having gone through the matters I referred to yesterday, there was actually very little that I hadn't filled in, it just needed checking. Next time, I'll print out a paper copy first and make notes on that of what changes have been made as I go along. I've been using different colours on the document, but actually I'm old enough to be reassured by paper and pencil, and it can be less fiddly than using several documents on the screen at the same time.
The main job is still to come, but I hope to concentrate on that tomorrow. Several people have still failed to send me the information I need, so I'll start by sending out emails, and try to work out how to use the programme (it's a PDF rewriter called Nuance) in the meantime. I can't remember if I said, so sorry if I'm repeating myself, but I'm going to have to use the Sage's laptop so have the added trickiness of using a pc instead of my Mac, so I have to think about how to do all the things that usually come naturally to me. This isn't a pc/Mac argument, it's just what one's used to is easier, especially when learning something extra.
It's a funny thing, how perspective changes over a day or two. Nothing has really got any more sorted, but I feel more in control again. It's specious really - if I can't work out this programme I'll be in trouble - but I'm sort of assuming I can. I can only be anxious for a while and then I just get over it. I think that's true in general, our brains naturally try to adjust to circumstances and normalise whatever's happening. It's only when you get beyond your ability to cope that you fail to do that - whether circumstances beyond your control take over or whether you are ill, depressed or overstressed.
I read a book on dog behaviour - that is, managing your dog's behaviour, and it said that a dog adjusts to new circumstances within four (I think) days. So, if there's a major change, you might as well do it all at once, because otherwise, if you do it in stages, the dog will have to keep learning and being surprised. I doubt we're much different from dogs, in that respect.
I have got quite a lot done this evening actually - not the things I intended to do, but anything achieved makes one feel better. And, having gone through the matters I referred to yesterday, there was actually very little that I hadn't filled in, it just needed checking. Next time, I'll print out a paper copy first and make notes on that of what changes have been made as I go along. I've been using different colours on the document, but actually I'm old enough to be reassured by paper and pencil, and it can be less fiddly than using several documents on the screen at the same time.
The main job is still to come, but I hope to concentrate on that tomorrow. Several people have still failed to send me the information I need, so I'll start by sending out emails, and try to work out how to use the programme (it's a PDF rewriter called Nuance) in the meantime. I can't remember if I said, so sorry if I'm repeating myself, but I'm going to have to use the Sage's laptop so have the added trickiness of using a pc instead of my Mac, so I have to think about how to do all the things that usually come naturally to me. This isn't a pc/Mac argument, it's just what one's used to is easier, especially when learning something extra.
It's a funny thing, how perspective changes over a day or two. Nothing has really got any more sorted, but I feel more in control again. It's specious really - if I can't work out this programme I'll be in trouble - but I'm sort of assuming I can. I can only be anxious for a while and then I just get over it. I think that's true in general, our brains naturally try to adjust to circumstances and normalise whatever's happening. It's only when you get beyond your ability to cope that you fail to do that - whether circumstances beyond your control take over or whether you are ill, depressed or overstressed.
I read a book on dog behaviour - that is, managing your dog's behaviour, and it said that a dog adjusts to new circumstances within four (I think) days. So, if there's a major change, you might as well do it all at once, because otherwise, if you do it in stages, the dog will have to keep learning and being surprised. I doubt we're much different from dogs, in that respect.
Saturday, 18 September 2010
Z's learning curve is - um -curvy
Yes. I've got a bit of a workload and it's rather my own fault. People have been sending me information and I've been downloading it but not acting on it instantly, and now I don't know what I've done and what I haven't, so I'm having to go through all the emails and checking them off - it's a bit of a nightmare. I've got 23 different societies sending me information to correlate, some of them have a change of chairman and some are reasonably computer literate and some aren't. One said that she couldn't save a form after she'd filled it in and there should be instructions - I've just done one myself, for someone who couldn't manage, and it was easy, so I don't actually know how to write instructions without sounding really patronising - anyway, quite a few people haven't sent in the info - or their cheques yet - so I was going to send out a reminding email when I realised I haven't altered the names to the new chairmen yet. And, do you know, I can't be bothered tonight. It can wait until tomorrow. I was given lovely DVDs for my birthday (all of Black Books and all of The Wire - saw them when they were on television of course, but now I can enjoy them again) and I haven't had time for any of them yet.
So, for next time, I shall make every change as it comes in. And make notes of what changes I've made. As it is, I've got to spend tomorrow evening working at it too.
But not the day, because Weeza rang up this afternoon to say that Zerlina is asking to come over and see Granny and Grandpa. Huzzah! Very happy, as you might imagine. So I invited them to lunch. Al and family are here and there tomorrow, so won't have time to come to lunch, but I expect we'll see them at some time.
Al had a ceremonial lie-in this morning, as he hasn't got a shop to go to any more. That is, he has, but not to run. He was in later painting. The new floor looks great and Tim has also been working hard, painting the shelves and units. He's rearranging everything - Al did too, when he took over, you've got to stamp your mark on the place. I said to Al, he and Dilly have got enough to get by for a while, don't look for another job until you're ready. Unless, we agreed, an offer he can't resist drops into his lap.
I didn't feel too sharp yesterday and had a really bad headache. My temperature control was all over the place too, I kept feeling too hot and then cold. I slept quite a lot in the afternoon and went to bed early. I put it down to very poor sleep for ages and then a really busy day, but I didn't feel 100% today either (I meant to cycle into town but was a bit anxious of getting wobbly so didn't) and Dilly and Zerlina were both under the weather, so maybe something's going around. I'm over it now, I'm pretty sure. All the same, I'm inclined to another early night. I'd love to feel I'd had enough sleep.
So, for next time, I shall make every change as it comes in. And make notes of what changes I've made. As it is, I've got to spend tomorrow evening working at it too.
But not the day, because Weeza rang up this afternoon to say that Zerlina is asking to come over and see Granny and Grandpa. Huzzah! Very happy, as you might imagine. So I invited them to lunch. Al and family are here and there tomorrow, so won't have time to come to lunch, but I expect we'll see them at some time.
Al had a ceremonial lie-in this morning, as he hasn't got a shop to go to any more. That is, he has, but not to run. He was in later painting. The new floor looks great and Tim has also been working hard, painting the shelves and units. He's rearranging everything - Al did too, when he took over, you've got to stamp your mark on the place. I said to Al, he and Dilly have got enough to get by for a while, don't look for another job until you're ready. Unless, we agreed, an offer he can't resist drops into his lap.
I didn't feel too sharp yesterday and had a really bad headache. My temperature control was all over the place too, I kept feeling too hot and then cold. I slept quite a lot in the afternoon and went to bed early. I put it down to very poor sleep for ages and then a really busy day, but I didn't feel 100% today either (I meant to cycle into town but was a bit anxious of getting wobbly so didn't) and Dilly and Zerlina were both under the weather, so maybe something's going around. I'm over it now, I'm pretty sure. All the same, I'm inclined to another early night. I'd love to feel I'd had enough sleep.
Friday, 17 September 2010
Acute accent, as Rog would put it
A friend called in this morning. She and her husband live most of the time in New Zealand - their daughter and her then boyfriend took a trip round the world and ended up there, where they now live, married, with their three daughters. Sandra and Graham loved it so much that they spent more and more time there; a couple of years ago their respective mothers died and now they live there and visit here, rather than the other way round. The Sage and Graham are great friends and still have long conversations on the phone. Graham always used to help on sale nights, showing the china (holding each lot up as it's auctioned) and giving it out to the buyers once they've paid. Alex does this now.
Anyway, Sandra will be leaving again in another ten days - the Sage has promised to drop a catalogue in to her in a week's time when they are back from the printer but I won't see her for a couple of years, probably. She's become very integrated into New Zealand life, even having gained the accent.
It's funny, isn't it, how some people adapt their accent to where they are living and others never do. I wonder if there's a connection with how good you are at picking up other languages? Or maybe it's if you are, in the rather old-fashioned phrase, a people person. Sandra spends a lot of time with her granddaughters and they were born in NZ. It's natural that she should adapt her speaking to theirs, in the circumstances (that she's living in their country, I mean).
Anyway, Sandra will be leaving again in another ten days - the Sage has promised to drop a catalogue in to her in a week's time when they are back from the printer but I won't see her for a couple of years, probably. She's become very integrated into New Zealand life, even having gained the accent.
It's funny, isn't it, how some people adapt their accent to where they are living and others never do. I wonder if there's a connection with how good you are at picking up other languages? Or maybe it's if you are, in the rather old-fashioned phrase, a people person. Sandra spends a lot of time with her granddaughters and they were born in NZ. It's natural that she should adapt her speaking to theirs, in the circumstances (that she's living in their country, I mean).
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