Wednesday 6th November - Pay Attention in future...

This was really, really annoying.

I'm making another strip for the Tunisian crochet blanket, in a boucle yarn which was chosen for the blue colours that remind me of the water above and below the Niagara Falls.

I laid it out on the table to admire my progress...

and instantly spotted that it has lost a substantial amount of WIDTH.

To rip it out, or not to rip it out? The difference in width is actually nearly an inch.

So, I ripped. Ow! It hurt, really badly. All that work, gone, gone, gone.

About half of the strip returned to a single strand. It would have been a good idea if I had checked what I was doing more often.

At least, with Tunisian Crochet, you only need to pick up ONE stitch.

BUT, tempted as I was to pretend that "it will be all right when I sew the strips together", I knew that it wouldn't work out. So I'm glad I managed to take the path of righteousness, earlier rather than later.

Moral - PAY ATTENTION to what you are doing!

Saturday 11th May - Did I just say that in my "Outside" Voice?

Ooops.

I did.

And me a school teacher too.

Today day started well.

Sunny.

When I woke up, I realised that I had slept through the whole night (I am usually woken by something or someone at around 4:40 am most mornings - our neighbour works shifts).

I carried on dozing for another half hour or so, almost unaware of the clammy embrace of the oxygen tube.

Breakfast and real coffee.

The Saturday morning pupil, a pleasant young man cramming for a Grade 5 theory exam, had done some homework, and got most of it right too.

I had half an hour to catch up with lesson reviews - I had a backlog of lessons to write up (all my class music lessons have to have planning and then reviews written up and sent in to the relevant schools). With some fast work on the computer I knocked it back to just three.

Then time to go and get my mother home from the Care Home where she has been all week while my father had a break.

Well, I work hard at being an optimist, and keeping my glass half full rather than half empty, and looking on the bright side, and staying cheerful and positive, but half full is only half full, when all is said and done, so it doesn't take much of being of the receiving end of a mile of complaints, and yards of criticisms, and metres of recitations of wrongs, and sheaves of instructions to do this, and that, and stand here, and look there, for my glass of well-being to be drained to the last drop. Smile. Take it on the chin. Respond with grace and patience and positivity and helpfulness. It's a stressful and emotional time for everyone. Don't add to it.

I let fly with my own verbal response once I was on my own in the room; I won't repeat what  said - I was using a very limited and repetitive vocabulary. Suffice it to say that the bedroom door, held open by a floor catch, suddenly slammed shut of its own accord!

Kicking hell out of a poor inoffensive lamp-post on my way to the car sort of helped, although I don't recommend it as you can hurt your toes if you are not precise with your aim.

We didn't stay long once everyone was back in their proper place - things to do, errands to run, jobs to finish. It seemed a good idea to let everyone get on with what they wanted to do next. Anyway I was in no mood to socialise, chat, discuss, or even TALK to anyone. Now I needed some time and space  to work at getting a grip of myself, and pull myself together, and find some way of refilling my glass of cheer.

We went into town for lunch and grocery shopping and getting the banking done and other bits and pieces on the list.

I took my "before meals" pill in the car park, swallowing it down without water. It stuck. It tastes dreadful if it starts to dissolve in my mouth - very bitter - very ugh. "Bugger" I said, and then realised I'd said it out loud, and the couple walking past us, much our own age looked totally surprised. I explained that the pill had got stuck, refused their kind offer of water, and succeeded second time round with the help of a boiled sweet.

So yes, ooops. I really did say it out loud. In my "outside" voice. Oddly enough, my glass of optimism began to start the process of refilling itself.  

May 27th - Sunday - grrr

If goose-grass - cleavers - Robin-run-the-hedge - were a crop that I could harvest and consume, I would be giving thanks for its abundance.

If dandelion seeds could be eaten, drunk, smoked, sold, I would be rich.

But they are not.

So I am neither giving thanks for them, nor am I rich. I'm just having a moan before I take the battle to the flowerbeds AGAIN.

I do this every year. You would have thought they'd get the message that they are not welcome by now.

Sunday 22nd April - Rendering unto Caesar

A Biblical kind of title seems appropriate as I have skived off church this morning - one of the rare Sundays when I am not down for any jobs on the rota (I hope! - sorry if I missed something) and so I stayed in bed...

After a more substantial breakfast this morning (cereal AND toast) I felt strong enough to start work on my tax return.... 

I'm not sure how well a toga would suit George Osborne. Perhaps they should issue them to all workers in HMRC; a badge of honour for they work they are doing to fill the country's coffers in our time of economic need. I'll suggest this to He-knows-who-he-is-if-he-is-reading-this. (As a responsible citizen, I'm not actually going to reveal his real name - it would only add to the drain on the exchequer in having to provide him with round-the-clock police protection, and it's not really his fault anyway - he doesn't Make the rules, he is just the Enforcer of the consequences of living in a democratic society where one lot of politicians spend all the country's money and get voted out, and the next lot have to claw it back somehow without upsetting the people who could afford to pay lots of taxes but have worked out how not to).

He-knows-who-he-is-if-he-is-reading-this could have a red border round his toga, to signify his expertise in all things VAT. I haven't asked him about hot and cold custard tarts and pasties because, as I said earlier, it's not his fault, and he is a really, really nice guy and I like him. Then the ones in charge of benefits could have blue stripes, and the ones who deal with tax relief for planting trees and eco-efficiencies and other suchlike could have green stripes. I've just about reached the end of my knowledge of the tax system. Oh, of course, purple for pensions. I was given the opportunity to read the reply from a tax official to a query about some pension thingy, and it was two sides of A4 of such eloquent, technical, dense, interwoven clauses and subclauses and adverbial phrases and tenses and pronouns and any other bits of grammar that could be incorporated into the long, convoluted sentences, that it should have been set a the main the entrance exam for all potential candidates for any vacancies in the Plain English Society.

"Explain what this letter is about, and rewrite it so the average well-educated adult with a first degree in Accountancy, a Masters in Semantics, and a Doctorate in Quantum Physics can understand it and act appropriately upon the information therein".

Where was I? Oh yes. Embarking upon the long, slow process of gathering together all the bits of information that will gradually coalesce into my tax return. I've now got the kind of brain-ache that only another cup of strong, fully-caffeinated coffee will resolve.

Thinking about it, I don't think togas would be such a good idea. I have a feeling that ther are made of pure wool, which would be a great benefit to the Chinese woolen industry (I can't believe for one minute that the government would do something so out-of-character as to place the order with a British farmers, spinners and weavers), so the dry-cleaning charges would probably bankrupt the nation within days.

To do list for week commencing Monday 9th April

Monday 9th April - Second week of the holidays

This week's list and the lack of any progress is depressing that I have deleted it. There is absolutely no chance whatsoever of getting a week's worth of music practise done on Sunday, the charity shop will be closed so I can't get rid of the bags. I haven't done any gardening - no - wait - I repotted the lettuce seedlings! I did attack the laundry  mountain and filled the wardrobe to over flowing, but now I have put two loads through the washing machine, so back to square one.

I don't "do" failure. So I have deleted the list. Hah!

Term starts on Monday and nothing gets done in term time except Work. There will be no rest, no play, until Bank holiday in May.

Tuesday 27th March - Daylight Robbery - Stamps to cost 50p!

image from wikipedia

I have taken up letter-writing in a big way since last Summer. Well, post-card writing would be more truthful. I write at least one every week, and sometimes two or three. I am also making a real effort to send cards to friends and relatives who have birthdays.

Today I picked up a tweet announcing that the price of a stamp is to go up to 50p for second class! Hang on a minute; that is ten shillings in "old" money!
To think that we started with the penny post - that's less than half a penny in "new" money.

Let's do another sum; we usually send about 60 Christmas cards through the post every year; at 36p for second class that is around £22, give or take a bit for the couple of foreign addresses. Now that will rise to a whopping £30, in stamps alone.

Well, hey, we can send everyone all singing-and-dancing Jacquie Lawson e-cards for the price for a yearly subscription - or just send everyone an e-mail for free.

I shall be collecting the e-mail addresses of friends and relatives this year in time for Christmas.

Hang on a minute - if we all do that, the Post office will make more of a loss, and will have to put up prices....