Z drops in

A friend, John of PubLog - which he has let fallow for some time - thought he might start blogging again, but he hasn't been able to sign in to it.  So I thought I might check out this one.  It recognised me through my Google account, but it's taken me several minutes to work out how to write a new post.

I have never stopped blogging, of course, but I do it elsewhere now.  Same name, Razorblade of Life, but it's  http://razorbladeoflife.co.uk nowadays, as it has been for a few years.

In the time since I left blogger, a lot has changed in my life.  But I'm still here.

Pretty picture

Tim tells me that he can't post a photo using Internet Explorer on his Blogger blog any more, so I wondered if it could be done with Safari.

And it seems that it can -and it's easier than it used to be, in fact.  Just drag'n'drop.

So here's some pretty Lowestoft china for you.  

And Ro corrected it...

As you were, darlings.

Wordpress seems to have made a mistake

Darlings, in case you're looking here for my blog, having found a 'fatal error' message on the .co.uk one, it's Wordpress who've made it.  I've passed the problem on to Ronan (tech support) and hope that he can sort it out over the weekend.

News of the day is that I'm back on the road, having spent the morning and several thousand pounds in Norwich.

86 followers

I've just dropped in to the dashboard because I'd got signed out of Blogger and it's the easiest way of getting back, and I saw that I still have 86 followers here.  Which either shows vast loyalty or else that few of us unsubscribe from anything (that's true of me, for sure).  Hello, if you do call in - I'm still blogging on the other site, though things have changed someone, most specifically, I'm sad to say, because the Sage has died.  I don't want the Razorblade to be a widowhood blog, so mostly write as I always did.  I hope it doesn't look callous: it isn't.  I'm better looking out than in, at least when someone is looking at me.

Z has moved house. Sorry...

...if you've come here from a link I've left on a comment, but I find that if I sign in with name and URL, I don't have the option of subscribing to comments, so I still use my Blogger sign-in.  My blog has moved here.  Same name, same furniture, different address.

The removal van is packed

This morning, I packed Rupert's bag while Russell took him for a walk, and I think it's time to pack and go here too.  I'll leave comments on here for a few more days so that you can tell me if you have any difficulties with logging in over there.  However, all posts and comments have been transferred.  I need a Blogger or similar ID to be able to comment on many sites so this blog will stay here as it is.

If you haven't visited it yet, please drop in, you will be very welcome.

If you would like to leave a comment, you need to register with a name of your choice and an active email address, where you will be sent a password - you then sign in with your username and password and if you tick the box it will remember you.  You will get a profile page but you don't need to do anything on that - however, if you wish comments to appear under a different name than the one you've entered, you can add it and if you want a different password, you can change to one of your choice.  Any difficulties, please leave a comment here while they're still switched on, or email me at the address on my profile - oh, I see my profile has vanished.  Just click on Z and look for 'contact me.'  Please don't sign in with your Wordpress, Blogger or any other password, just with your own name or blogname and your email.  No outside agency has any access to your details or comments.

See you at http://razorbladeoflife.co.uk/.  And if you have been, thanks for listening.

Rupert's last day with Z

This is our final day with Rupert, our friends' little spaniel pup.  Sam and Hannah are due to come and pick him up tomorrow morning.  The visit has been an unqualified success - which we expected, no problems were anticipated - and the only slight disappointment has been that we've not been able to let the dogs out in the garden unaccompanied, just in case any of the bantams have got out.  But they can go off the lead on the marshes, where they have a brilliant time.  They both love the water and play riotously, but with complete good humour.  Ben is very kind to the smaller dog, although sometimes clumsy, but Rupert is quite unbothered at being trodden on and can hold his own in a play-fight.

 Asleep on the bed

Asleep on me

He is also very, very affectionate and cuddly.  Although he woke early this morning and wanted to play, which I could have done without, having been fast asleep at 5.45.

Other news on the home front is that Weeza and Phil's house purchase seems to have had all problems ironed out and the contract is due to be signed tomorrow, with completion early next month.  There's a bit of work they want to do before moving and more in due course, but it's going to be beautiful.

If anyone is having difficulty registering here, do let me know (my email address is on my profile here) and I can do it.  If you want an avatar/photo against your comments, I think it'll work if you add your own blog to your profile.  The advantage of commenting there is that it will be published immediately, with no need for me to approve it.  Also, though Ro has succeeded in uploading all comments, further ones won't be taken over from here.  I shall turn off comments here when I stop updating on this site in any case.

Clarifications

I've had a few queries about comments on the new site, so have checked with Ro, who builds websites for a living (Senior Interface Developer, he is - I suppose it's inevitable that at least one of my children should have a job title I don't really comprehend) and uses Wordpress regularly, which he says is excellent.

The new blog is not a wordpress. com blog but a stand-alone site that uses WP tools.  So a Wordpress ID doesn't work to sign in with, you need to enter in your details to register.

Categorically, wordpress.com does not have access to comments on razorbladeoflife.co.uk and there is no crossover.  If you register, your comments won't appear anywhere else and they won't be available for marketing or spamming.

If you don't want to store cookies on your computer, Ro recommends that you let your browser store your password and then, rather than clicking 'Remember Me,' which does store a cookie, you just have to click 'Login.'

I'll post on both sites for a few more days and then just leave a link here.  Ro has transferred all the posts and pictures and some of the comments, but there are about 28,000 of them and it's straining the system a bit.

If you read blogs on an iPhone, it's a lot nicer on the new site and the commenting is easier too.

Many, many thanks to Ro for setting this up for me, the site itself wasn't so much bother (though I kept going back to him with little points, mostly about the commenting set-up) but the transfer of 3,000 posts was and it took him the whole evening.  He has been extremely kind and patient throughout and I appreciate it all very much.

DV

'Want to do' - ah, there's a thing.  There are things one might yearn to do but know the opportunity might or will never arise (a friend of mine has hankered since childhood for a trip into space, but I think she will never have the chance), things that one intends to do, things one hopes might happen.  I tend not to wish for the impossible and I don't even plan ahead that much, but will take an opportunity if it presents itself.

A friend (a different friend, in fact it's Rupert's owner's mother) took a break from her job as a teacher while her children were small and, once they started school, decided to learn some new skills.  So first she learned Japanese and then photography and took a GCSE in each.  I can see the point of the exam in those cases because it was a measurable mark of success, whereas I refused to take exams when I was learning the clarinet because, if anything, I felt it would hold me back.

So what I want to do at present is -

1 Get the new blog up and running, with vast appreciation of Ro's help.

2 Take the CBT (Compulsory Basic Training) on a motorbike.  What I then do with it will depend on how much I really enjoy it, but it's a challenge I seem to have set myself without quite realising I was going to.

3 Continue with the social life and doing things for pleasure.  I've been doing pretty well at this all year, it's something that usually drifts during the spring and early summer.  I start with good intentions in the autumn (I go by school years still more than calendar ones) but, when busy, it's the things you want to do rather than the things you must do that slip first.  I have got something vital on at school that needs to be prepared for this month and done in the first half of next and I'll tell you about it in due course, but then I have two holidays booked, one with Wink and one with Nadfas and I've arranged to go and visit Badgerdaddy in October too (and hope to call on John G on the way, though I haven't let him know dates yet).  Then Wink will be having an operation and I'll spend quite a lot of time with her.  So, though I might not manage many social things at home, I'll be doing them somewhere.

4 On my 'I'm going to bloody well do this because I'm not a wuss' list is getting over this ludicrous inability to be out of my depth, literally.  Fear of water has to go, it's not going to govern me much longer.

5 At present, though it'll probably last all of another month, my nails are looking okay and I'm putting stuff on to strengthen them.  They are dreadfully weak and when they break, I neglect them in despair and then, when worrying in the dark reaches of the night, I bite them.  That is a shaming admission from someone of my age, but if Roses and Mig can stop smoking, I can stop doing something I should have grown out of half a century ago.

As is sensible with a 'to-do' list, one should always have an item that can be ticked off pretty quickly.  So, though it's not yet quite finished, here's a link to the new blog.  Which will include the whole of this blog very soon, I trust.  I might post on both until I'm sure what I'm doing over there, but then this won't be updated any longer and there will just be the link to that, though the archives will remain here too.

On the new blog, I'm afraid you'll have to register once to leave comments, but just with your chosen name and an email and then you won't have to do it again, there won't be a wv and it will be published immediately.  Hope it all works ok, let me know about any problems.  Ronan says that it's always possible the whole thing may go awry when he uploads more than 3,000 posts from here to there and he may have to start again, though he hopes not.  So do I, it's not as if this is a hobby for him and he's being very kind as it is.

Not likely to change

See previous post.

It's rare that I buy really casual clothes.  I never had a lot of money to spare for myself, having had children very young (the advantage of that is that they can fend for themselves by the time you're in your forties), and what I did have went on books and music.  So it seemed wasteful to spend what I had on anything that wasn't good.  So no dungarees - though being short and having the firm, if completely erroneous belief that I was stubby, I'd have assumed they wouldn't suit me in any case.  And platform shoes - no, didn't like them.  I went without new shoes until they went out of fashion because all shoes for young people had them and I was stubborn.

We had a good many dogs when I was growing up, and no cat dared enter our garden.  Russell won't have one, being a bird lover - I know that not all cats kill birds but he wouldn't take the risk.  I rather like cats and wouldn't mind having one, but I don't know if we'd suit because I'd make a few rules.  The first one would be no creatures brought in to the house, dead or alive, the second would be no cat is allowed on a place where I prepare or keep food.  I have no comprehension of people who, otherwise hygienic, allow a cat on their kitchen table.  If you're not hygienic, fair play.

The hotel I was born in and where I lived for four years was 1930s.  Since then, I lived in Edwardian houses until this one, which is some 450 years old.  I don't mind the idea of a new house, it's just not likely to happen.

It seems that blogging was made for me.  If I didn't have a blog, I still don't think I'd keep a diary, except the appointments one - and I'd not willingly go back to a paper one, at that,  The phone is far more convenient.

Yes, I hope I will travel more.  Russell's passport runs out in December and he's never used it, and only used the previous one once, so travelling will be done alone or with friends/family.  I think it's very good to be self-reliant, though.

My dear stepfather, Wilf, had a son but, although I know his name and that he used to live on the Isle of Wight (and still may do), I know nothing more.  I think he'd be in his mid to late sixties now.  The surname is Edwards, which wouldn't make tracking him down very easy - but then, why would I?  Wilf hadn't seen him for many years and he died more than 25 years ago.  I let it go.

Never had the opportunity, except by displaying a very untypical exhibitionist streak.  If I had my own swimming pool - but that's extremely unlikely too.  Besides, I don't like swimming pools and I'm afraid of being out of my depth.  If there's a fear waiting to be conquered, that's it however.

I was never a runner and, since finding out about my congenital hip problem, that's just as well.  If I'd been very sporty, I'd have needed a new hip in my forties.  I'd hate to be in a marathon, too many people.  When I did run, it was on my own.  Bungee jumping - blimey, no.  It would dislocate my hip now, but I'd never have done it, not for anything.  I'd have jumped out of an aeroplane if required, no objection to that - but not now - hip again, I'm afraid.

I married from home, so never lived alone.  Apart from the obvious awfulness of the reasons for it happening - ie death or divorce - I could well imagine, if things had been different and I hadn't remained married for forty years, that I'd like living alone.

If my children had been younger, they'd have read Harry Potter and so would I.  But I've never had a reason to.  I daresay I will, one of these days, probably when a grandchild lends me their copy.  And maybe one day I'll catch a film on tv and it won't be on Christmas afternoon when I've spent all morning cooking and then eaten too much, so won't go to sleep in the middle of it.

I should write a 'want to do' list next - as Sir Bruin surmises, little of this will be on it.

Tennevers

I seem to remember that the last time I mentioned things I'd never done, they included being on a motorbike, and we all know where that led, and is still leading.  All the same, here are some more nevers.

I have never worn dungarees or shoes with platform soles.  Russell has never worn jeans or a teeshirt.

I have never lived with a cat.

I have never lived in a new house.

I had never kept a daily journal (as opposed to an appointment diary) for more than a few months until I started blogging.  What a transformation!

I have never visited Scandinavia.  Nor the Americas, nor Australasia.  I don't get out much, frankly.

I have a stepbrother whom I have never met, and I don't see how I'm ever likely to.

I have never swum naked, and that's another really unlikely one.

I have never run a marathon, bungee jumped or parachuted and I never will (forbidden on medical grounds).

I have never lived alone.

I have never read a Harry Potter book or seen one of the films all through (when one is on at Christmas, it has always sent me to sleep).  This is no boast but a simple matter of fact.

Roses

Roses came over today for lunch, though we didn't eat it until late, what with one thing and another.  We drank wine, made a bonfire and walked the dogs.  And talked, of course.

Tail end of the bonfire.

Ben and Rupert.  And Roses.

And my contact lens has gone to the back of my eye again.  I was just putting it in this morning when Russell sharply told Rupert to stop (chewing Ben's cuddly bone).  I looked up and it vanished.  I'm a bit fed up.  It took several days, last time, to re-emerge.  It seems to do no harm, it's just uncomfortable and I will have to wear glasses, which is a nuisance.  I hate the barrier that glasses give when I'm talking to someone and I can't read or do anything much except see with my distance glasses on, so have to keep putting them on and off.  

Z feels a bit scatty

Gus is much better, thank you.  Weeza is taking him back to the doctor tomorrow as arranged, but we're all hopeful that the medicine will do the trick.  We'll go over and see them at the weekend, taking Rupert as we're sure the children will love him.

I knew I was due to pay the balance of my October holiday within the next few days, but couldn't remember the due date, the amount I owed nor the name of the travel company.  I'd received confirmation and an invoice of course, and carefully put it in a sensible place.  Lord knows where.  I couldn't find it anywhere.  Luckily, I had sent details of my renewed passport by email so was able to find the name of the company, so I phoned and came clean and the nice woman on the telephone looked me up.

Soon afterwards, the internet connection went down.  I went through all the correct procedures to try and restart the hub, but no joy.  I phoned to check there wasn't a local issue and this exchange wasn't mentioned, then phoned the helpline number and was put in a queue.  10 - 20 minutes, I was told, so got on with things while I was waiting.  After a while, I thought I'd better just check - and the internet was on again.  I dunno.  Some sort of glitch at the exchange, I suppose.  Still, at least I didn't have the embarrassment of finding out when on the phone to the broadband guy.

We're into our second and last week of Rupert's stay.  It's going very well, he settled down pretty quickly.  Hannah left a shirt of hers that she'd been wearing, on my suggestion, to console him when he missed her and he took it to bed with him the first night.  He does carry it around with him, but not every day.  I'd hoped to let the two dogs out in the garden together, but bantams fly over the wall into the garden sometimes and I don't want to risk them being chased.  So they're getting walked on the lead, for the most part.  They get plenty of exercise chasing each other over the house, it's doing them no harm.  I had been letting them have a run on the marshes, but Jonny has let the cows onto the first marsh now and I don't take the risk.  I've no idea how sensible Rupert would be and fear of him running up to them and being swiped off his feet by half a ton of cow is making me cautious.

Time for our late-night trot round the village.  I like going out in the dark, though I take my phone in case I need some light.  The other night, they found a hedgehog and were very interested.  Luckily, I realised and pulled them away before they picked it up - well, Rupert isn't big enough, but Ben is.  And I'd have had to spend the next hour removing fleas, I daresay.

Gus has trouble with his bronichals*

Gus was no better this morning, so I sent Roses an apologetic text, asking to postpone our meeting, which she readily agreed to, I walked the dogs and put the washing machine on and headed off to Norwich again.  Weeza had decided to take the day off work and work tomorrow instead (she works three days a week but there's some flexibility) and I was going to help occupy Zerlina.

We got a bit carried away with the tatts

and later decided to walk to the village shop for ice cream and then go to the playground.  Fortunately, we took umbrellas and coats because we needed them for a while.  I also remembered kitchen paper towels to dry off the swing and slide, and that was needed too.  We were out for a couple of hours and Gus slept most of that time and was still asleep when we arrived back.

Weeza had booked a phone call with the doctor and he asked her to bring Gus in to the surgery in the afternoon.  He was quite concerned that Gus was still ill and decided there was a secondary infection subsequent to the attack of croup.  He reckons it's bronchiolitis and has prescribed both steroids and antibiotics to relieve the symptoms, and has made an appointment for Friday.  Poor little Gus, he tries so hard to remain cheerful throughout it all.  And Zerlina has been a little darling, really helpful and loving.

Their lovely childminder Lynda only has a couple of other children tomorrow, so is willing to take Gus and give him a quiet day, but if Weeza doesn't feel he's up to it,  I'll go over again.  She did pop in to work for a while this afternoon to do some vital air ticket bookings for her boss, so can take a short day tomorrow.

Russell has been very good-natured about holding the fort back here and doing all the dog walking, apart from first and last of the day.  I was more disappointed than surprised when I got home at 6.45 tonight, to find he hadn't bothered to unpack and restack the dishwasher in the course of the day, but it didn't take long, once I'd fed the dogs, prepared dinner and laid the table.  H'm.

*This is correct in East Angularian

When it was fashionable not to relax

It was Nick who pointed me in the direction of this article and I found myself invoking the rodents of disbelief as I read it, rather as he did.  Yes, journalists are censorious and Bronwen is a journalist, but surely no one feels the need to take the sort of expectation she describes seriously.  I think she's taking as much as a stance as these fictional 'perfect' mothers and I found the article pretty trite and not especially well-written.  But I don't have to churn out a weekly column for a living and I can quite see that a chance remark sparks off a train of thought and, perhaps, that one is drawn into a more vehement expression of opinion than the matter actually warrants.  So I shrugged and moved on.

Except, that it reminded me of the early 1980s, when there seemed to be great pressure to be busy all the time.  It was a common occurrence, that a woman would declare that she was constantly on the go and that she felt guilty if she ever took a break and sat down with a book or did anything for herself.  In saying how wrong she was to take this attitude - 'my problem is, of course, that I'm a perfectionist.  I'm just too conscientious' - the more vehement she was, the more she was actually boasting about it.  And others would agree with her and they'd all declare how stressed and busy they were all the time.

My answer was not an affectation because it was true, but I have to admit that it was deliberate - I intended to wrong-foot - when I reacted with great sympathy.  I needed loads of time to myself and would happily leave the washing up if I wanted to read a book, I declared.  "It all gets done in the end.  I don't feel guilty because I'm not doing anything wrong."

I wasn't being entirely naughty, I did mean it.  There was a prevalent feeling that a woman had to do everything and many young women felt guilty at the prospect of employing someone to help in the house, even if they worked full time and had young children to look after too.  And some of them couldn't afford not to be constantly on the go, and I don't mean them, they just got on with the work and didn't talk about it.  It was the ones who boasted about a level of stress and busyness that I knew either wasn't true or wasn't necessary that irritated me.  

Z might have had a nap at some time, too

I looked after young Gus today.  As I said  a couple of days ago, he's had a bad attack of croup - it's an infection going round, apparently, though he's not infectious any more.  But his mother had something on at work that she neither felt able to miss nor to cancel and I was free, so I headed over there this morning.

And it was the easiest babysitting I could have had.  He stood for some time watching television (yes, I have no hesitation in using the soothing powers of children's tv once in a while) and then I realised he was leaning heavily on a table and nearly asleep.  So I scooped him up and sat him by me on the sofa and after a while I suspected he had gone to sleep.  His breathing was very wheezy and I couldn't recognise the moment when he did actually sleep, I had to use the camera on my phone reversed to see his face.  And he slept for an hour and a half from the time I realised he had dropped off, so it was longer than that.

He woke at 1 o'clock, so I gave him a drink and went to find him some lunch.  Not having expected him to be home, there wasn't a lot in the fridge, but I gave him some grapes and cucumber to keep him going and then grated him cheese while I cooked some pasta.  Pasta and pesto, the great standby of the modern mother.  He ate a lot of everything, he was very hungry.

And he cheered up by the minute.  So, since he'd cleared his plate, I offered him a chocolate mousse that I found in the fridge.

And that made him really happy.

Rupert also sits very nicely at the dining table, by the way.











Weeza rather enjoyed her meeting.  We emailed each other every so often during the day and she said, at lunchtime, "I'm just back from my trog around the estate - 2.5hrs we were poking about hedgerows!!  Excellent stuff though - I love hearing old boys talk about 'back in the day.'"  Very like her parents, is our Weeza.

Rambling Z

Long-term readers will know that I sometimes start telling you all about my family's or my own past.  I've pretty well run out of things to say now though, and I've been telling one of my friends about another family I've known since way back.  I've got quite a few anecdotes - you know me, not brief funny stories but fairly long ones that ramble on and on with multiple digressions until, at the point where the reader reaches total despair, I return to the original point and complete the tale.  Sadly, I can't possibly post any of it here (not because it's rude but because it's not appropriate, they're not my relations), but it does make me realise how much I enjoy this sort of reminiscing.  Odd really, because I've never done it within my family, I've written more here about my childhood than I've ever told my children.  Still, if ever they're interested, they can read it here.  My friend probably wishes she'd never asked, mind you.

I have, with uncharacteristic boldness (if you'll believe that, you'll believe anything) given Elle a link to this site.  It'll be news to her that I call her Elle, for a start.

Z prepares for the winter

Today, I've been buying cashmere.  Well, it's the time of year, innit?  When it's cheap.  Two good quality (I've bought from them before) cashmere jumpers for £55 including postage is fine by me.

Weeza phoned this evening and we realise we haven't seen each other for several weeks, so we're planning to meet up on Friday.  Their house-buying is still ok, they've had a few concerns about the vendor but it seems that it's on track and they hope to sign the contract this week.  Fingers crossed.  There's a fair bit to do with the house, which was formerly a Methodist chapel and the conversion was never quite completed, but it's got great potential.

Poor little Gus has croup and was quite ill this afternoon.  In fact, he was wheezing so badly that when Weeza (sorry, I should call her El on this occasion) phoned the NHS helpline, they offered to send an ambulance and, when it arrived, he was given oxygen - not because he was in danger but to ease the symptoms.  At the hospital, he was given steroids and is asleep in bed now, although still quite wheezy.    If he's not better by Monday, I'll go over and look after him for a while in the morning as El has a meeting that she'd rather not cancel because people are coming from some way away for it, and she will take the afternoon off.

I've been exchanging emails with Elle - ah, there's why it's not too sensible calling my daughter El.  Our student friend who stayed over here for several months, if you remember - her parents and sister came over in February and she returned home with them.  We've talked on Skype but really not kept in close contact, considering what close friends we became.  Anyway, in apology, because I'm really rubbish at replying to emails, I've offered to tell her the name of my blog.  Yes, I know.  I never mentioned it when she was staying here, but now I've blabbed.

Some rain this evening, but not the thunderstorms that other places have had.  Not very dramatic on the whole, East Angular.  

H'm

I took Ben to the vet yesterday for a routine vaccination.  By the time I came out, with worming and de-fleaing stuff (no reason to think he has either worms or fleas, just precautionary) and a new harness, I'd spent the better part of £100.  H'm.  He likes the harness much better than the Halti though and it seems okay, though if he really pulled I think it wouldn't be quite as effective.  He doesn't normally, he's pretty good except if he sees something and suddenly takes off, such as a dog friend of his.  It's a bit of a nuisance to put on, but at least he doesn't run away when I pick it up, as he does with the Halti.

While I was in the waiting room, I weighed him.  He weighs 42 kilos.  That's nearly 93 pounds, 6 stone 9 lbs.  H'm again.  That's quite a lot of dog.  More than four times the weight of Rupert, less than two stone lighter than I am.  And he's not keen to get into the car, I have to lift him, half at a time.

I didn't finish the crossword today because friends called round and we stayed in the garden for a long time chatting, but did anyone else find today's Times crossword particularly easy?  I filled in half of it in  ten minutes flat - and since I sometimes stare helplessly for at least that long before solving the first clue,  it was unusual.  I'm not as good at cryptic crosswords as I used to be, sadly.  I don't know if it's my brainpower that's diminished or if I don't get enough practice.  Both, maybe.  H' - oh, I'm repeating myself.