Ironing Wine

This was my day.

Washing on, ironing on, downstairs to answer door, downstairs to answer door again, downstairs to throw out rubbish, not a moment to myself and my knees require peace and rest!  It's a good job I'm not one to complain.

Anyway, while planning my repast a knock on the door, well the next door actually.  My downstairs neighbour invited herself and her man up for a Christmas drink.  "See you in 30 minutes."

So, after a manic cleaning session, hiding the drying washing, pretending all else was normal, and ensuring glasses were washed, they arrived.  A bottle of wine and a card, and an hour or two of conversation which I enjoyed thoroughly.  We accidentally opened another bottle, and had they not got to go we may have accidentally opened another.  Altogether a very good evening chatting with neighbours I rarely see.  I was pleased with it all, I hope they were also.  Of course I gave them a bottle for their Christmas also!     

Unfortunately, while happy, I am losing interest in scribbling for some reason, the words dart about the screen.  Maybe I ought to do this happy stuff more often?  But that might lose my 'miserable old git' prize.  The man next door is well on the way to claiming it already.'  

Saturday Slop

 

Surely this is what women were made for?

I had to iron today, a Saturday at that, as I found shirts for tomorrow were running out.  I managed three before I gave up.  How can anyone expect a man in my condition, (Lazy, idle, slob) to work so hard in such heat?  Not only this but my dinner war burning also thereby increasing the warmth in the room.

I noticed an advert saying 'Shirts Ironed,' and looked closer, £20 each!  That is more than they cost!  What a rip-off.  I winder if I can persuade the 12 year old round the corner to do them all for £20?  She needs the money doesn't she...?

With the 'Leadership Debate' still ongoing it is nice to see those Tories who wish one or another to win actually getting bored with the whole thing.  Every channel has a session with them, I ignore them all, we know what they are saying, and boredom, not excitement is the result.  Sunak will introduce private cities, crime and corruption, Truss will introduce lies, corruption and money for the rich, while standing on opposition, and Labour fall asleep, like the rest of us.  None of these people care or understand the country.  The fact that they don't care is more important.  What matters is their people, they ones paying for them, get what they want, the public can go hang.  The unspoken agreement found after the war that change must come, and change for the better, has long since died.  The 2010 Conservative government saw that off, Boris has brought Victorian days back to us all, and his people want him to return.

I like this.  This is an example of the clever advertising I have seen recently.  Another on Twitter came from Specsavers.   No cameras are allowed in UK courtrooms but 'artists impressions' are.  A picture of one from the two celeb slappers arguing showed a poor representation of one of the woman.  Specsavers used this picture calling for the artist to 'Pop in and visit us.'  Very clever.  We need more like this.

Cruel Monday

Life is cruel!  All morning I spent looking for the postman deivering my books.  

All morning!  It was only when I looked once again at the Royal Mail email I realised it said deliver 'Wednesday!  I could have been out, round Sainsburys and have something worth eating for tea, but no, I did not read the email properly!  This is happening more regularly to me now.

Then this afternoon I was again stuck indoors awaiting another book from Amazon.  I ordered two, one came via one courier, the other will arrive, probably via a different one, sometime soon. 

Having used up the last shirt in the cupboard I have also spent all day, and I mean all day, ironing the rest of the shirts piling up on the back of the couch.  Considering how old some of these are, a little tighter than they once were, a sensible rich person would dump them on a charity shop and buy new ones.  However, I am poor, as my report cards always used to say, and the cheaper option is ironing them and hoping new ones arrive (fat chance) at Christmas.

Now, book arrived and placed in appropriate Xmas pile while awaiting others, shirts, bar the ones I just could not be bothered doing, hanging in the cupboard shocked and neatish, I await the rest of the day. Nothing else has been done.  

Then tonight I must drag myself the hundred yards down the road to the Club for the Spam meeting.  I have to wait and not rush out as I expect one of my women to call regarding her visit to the doctors last Friday.  This could take an hour, wear out my ear and make me wish she could use emails!  Some forty or so people praying for several years have led to the dialysis she ought to have undertaken years ago not being required.  The doctors smile and nod when she explains why. Now, at 80 years of age, she is still continuing to live but they do not understand how she does so well in the circumstances.  Other problems remain, and while she has suffered for 30 years with things the Good Lord will not let her undergo this.  Quite something.

After that call I will need to be at the Club, just for the quietness.  It will not be empty but the people there will be quieter than her voice on a phone.

 

Slack Wednesday

Reading the bleating press as they grumble about Harry and Meghan spending over £2:5 million on renovating the house caused many thoughts to pass though my little head.
For a start the media that whine about Meghan are delighted they have a 'Bad Person' in the Royals soap opera, every soap opera requires one.  Since this American 'actress' with a dubious family background who happily take large amounts of green dollar bills to 'reveal' stories while living in 'White Trash Land' first cottoned on to Harry the media have known there were pages and pages of empty space she would fill.  The media just had to decide if she was good or bad, that came easily enough.
Secondly she has, it would appear, caused friction within the royals, separating Harry from his brother and his wife, upsetting back room staff left right and centre, supporting strange policies and making it easy for the royal chattering classes to chatter classlessly.
Spending money on such a home to keep her and him apart from him and her and the rest fills pages in tabloids easily and the royal sap licks it up.
Of course William and his bint have a £5 million pound in Wales they never use, one in Eats Anglia somewhere also unused as  far as I can see, and their London home in the royal complex.  No tabloid has mentioned this or indicated a problem.  We need not mention the vast amounts being spent on Buck House either.
This crossed my mind on Saturday as I burnt myself in the hot sun while awaiting the bus.  Here ahead of me a not unusual sight around these parts.  One long expensive home, possibly divided into two semi-detached properties, but once either two, or four, or six, possibly even eight properties made use of by the many farm labourers who once toiled all day in the sunshine in the fields around. Now one or possibly two families live there. 
The moneyed classes can make use of old houses and renovate them as they please, those in the public eye have however to ensure they keep their fan base happy while the private classes need not worry.  I am beginning to ask myself, not that I really care, when will Harry take his woman to France, as 'Duke of Windsor' to hide behind French privacy laws and keep her out of trouble?

I had a lot more to say, very important and relevant stuff at that however I also had a pile of shirts to iron, there is a selfie of me above doing the work.  This meant my day was ruined as after that tedious and hot effort I sat in a daze for a while before sinking into a bath, and it's not even Sunday!
No head left to think with after that...ironing is what women were made for!

Women's Work!

It's been a day of women's work!
From the off I was setting the washing machine in motion, then hoovering the floor with a broken Tesco hoover before attempting to clean the layers of putrescence that lay in the bathroom.  Just who uses a place in that state I ask?
When I had finished annoying the neighbours with noise, hopefully they were out but with the hoover and the washing machine I could not tell, I then went off to town to visit the 'Savers' shop which my sister informs me is cheapest for cleaning stuff.

There I discovered that indeed in many ways they were cheaper even if the one thing I really needed as opposed to buying because it saves doing so later was not available.  I did however get a look from the local gay boy that left me considering pouring a bottle of 49 pence thick bleach down his throat.  That look was in no way similar to the one offered by the badly paid not over keen lass at the till.  I considered smiling but I thought that might produce a case of hysterics as in her case it was not something she would be familiar with.  I produced my bag and she deliberately rang up the small items first, doesn't she realise you always put big things in first?  How do these folks get a job?  I know how, they accept jobs that pay low wages for a while and go back on the dole while moving from one low paid job to another.  If they have any talent they chance of showing it is hard to find and as I know only too well decent jobs are few and hard to find around here.  It would not surprise me if this woman has to use one of our two foodbanks.  Remember we are a Tory area and our MP is a junior minister on the make yet we have two such places!  He does not visit them.

My pitiful lunch was followed by my pitiful falling asleep, from overwork I think, which led on to ironing shirts for the week.  It was at this point I phoned the job centre and advertised for a wife.  
Just put a card up for me I said but received a somewhat strangulated reply from the feminist at the other end. When I suggested she came round and did my ironing for me, as that is what women were made for.  She rang off saying something I didn't quite catch.  Still the worst is over, bar the bits forgotten, just don't look at the sink, yet this will have to do as tomorrow is museum day and I am so looking forwards to seeing all the young ladies there and asking if they can spare ten minutes to do a small job for me...  

SKY NEWS

Once again we find ourselves in the dark re what is happening re Brexit.  May has called off the vote she would lose, MPs are annoyed, the country fed up with it all and the future still bleak.  She returns to the EU to beg for amendments she will not be given all this to save her job.  Her party squabbles are more important than the nations health.  No change there with Tories. 
I have spent some time today irritating Brexiteers on the local MPs facebook page by asking for a sensible comment re Brexit, such as 'Give one positive result.'  All I got was insults,nothing regarding an argument to persuade me Brexit will work.  The fact is people vote emotionally and the whole vote is based on a fantasy that people by into even if it will not work.  Facts are ignored while emotions are roused and all we here is 'It was a democratic vote.'  Actually it was far from that as foreign money was involved so it was illegal.  Now we sit and wait while the local MP desperately seeks which possible next PM he should keep in with.

 

Friday Floundering

The problem with putting things off is that they eventually turn up.  So this morning I was trapped by an ironing board as I had run out of shirts.  This done to the accompaniment of 'Last of the Summer Wine' a programme that reminds me of several men of my acquaintance.  The delight of finishing this chore was enhanced by the arrival of two books that popped through the door.  I must remove that Amazon button.  I did however manage to place these so far from me that I was able to continue work and forget all about them.  Buying books is a habit that must end!   

  
Duty done I sauntered off towards the town and made my way to the charity shops, this one in particular is always offering excellent books, and I happened to accidentally walk in the door as it was open.  However the bad habit of mixing fiction with non-fiction that has appeared recently hinders searching as there is only so much of Victoria Hislop that I can take.  A browse elsewhere in the shop left my money in my pocket though I was irked by others there with their habit of walking into me as if I did not exist, I blame the parents.
One thing I did reflect on was the two men I saw in the distance, one I wished to avoid as I did not wish to speak to him as I have not the four hours to waste, thus I moved the other way, the second man did likewise to avoid me!  How strange to feel ever so slightly miffed at being ignored while ignoring another leaving him possibly miffed, if he actually noticed me.  What a strange conflict there.  Both are decent men, both are worth knowing and both would be acceptable at another time, this was not it.  Yet I feel guilty re one and miffed re another.  Stupid boy!

Here is an interesting thought.  They knocked down the old clinic that once stood here and have almost finished building several tightly packed houses costing up to £340,000.  A glance though the local house ads show that the white ones facing us are still available while the red brick to the right appear to have been purchased.  
I wonder if the reason the most expensive homes on the block have not gone might be the fact they back onto the skatepark?  Now skateparks tend to be where young folks gather, playing on bikes and skateboards during the day and gathering around to share drugs, and sometimes music, at night.  Could it be that this might be said to be a problem when attempting to sell houses?  
There has been some trouble here over the years, gang fights at first, drugs, yobs on motor scooters and now almost silence in the evenings for some reason.  This years adolescents have not gathered to scream and shout late at night like previous groups have done, not as yet anyway but they will.  Would you wish a house there?

The promised Indian summer is not arriving, tomorrow means rain from early on.  No doubt cold, wet weather will soon be a constant and it is a week on Monday before my boiler gets fixed!  Bah!

It's not been a Good Day

I'm no happy!
Waking early near six thirty I had finished breakfast by around nine. 
Well there is the emails to read, none whatsoever again, not even spam.  
There is the daily online papers to scrutinise,  occasionally adding comments beneath.  To the 'Daily Mail' I am a Socialist Labour Leftie Communist, to the 'Guardian' a fascist and to me that indicates I am on the right track.  Not that there was much to comment on, just misandrists attacking men for saying things about women when women say worse about men and are feted by such as those who use the term feminist,  (Has anyone see the feminist bible? What are the ten laws of feminism?). There was also an Oxbridge type Labour woman warning about Jeremy Corbyn being a danger.  You could not make this up, a woman who has never worked telling others what Labour should stand for!  
Anyway I was up for work by then, sort off, so I hoovered a day early, considered the dusting and considered doing that later, much later, made space and set up the ironing board.
These jobs are all, as you know, what women were made for.  Quite why they make such a fuss about doing it with no help when they also make such a fuss about not having it done even when it doesn't need it except in their eyes by a man who sees no need to do what doesn't require doing.  I fail to understand their fuss myself.
Sadly I could not convince any woman to do this work, work she was clearly made for and then worked my way through a pile of shirts that had been awaiting ironing for some time.  I didn't recognise some of them it's been so long.  I took fro granted they had been washed but ...you never know, too late now.
So I spent all morning going back and forth while watching an old video about Nero, except when a bit broke off the iron, I wonder what that was for?
After what to me was an interminable time I grabbed the shirts, now hanging sort of ironed on the bookcases and took them to the cupboard.  This was a moment of triumph!  With all the shirts washed and ironed and put away I could forget this for another year, or so.  Happily I fell over things lying about and made for the east wing.
My day was made as I opened the door of the venetian blind slatted cupboard.  Holding a mass of shirts with one hand I jerked open the door gently and the beam pulled away from the rest off the door and all the strats that make up the door fell to the floor.
(censored)
It all remains there.
It might remain there a long time!
To replace the slats will take forever, as one goes in the next falls out. As you get higher the lower fall out again.  The small door above occasionally does this and it takes ages to get the two or three slats back in place.  There appear to be a lot of things to replace.  This could be an ongoing process for some days, if not weeks.
I'm so happy...

Saturday

Today I spent hours attempting to speed up the laptop.  After Malarbyting it, Virus checking it, 'CCleanering' it, defragmenting it and howling abuse at it there is little difference.  It must be more RAM is required but that is too expensive.  Later I will remove stuff.
That has been my day, as the machine had to be used to watch the Scottish Cup Final I had to stop the clean and watch the game.  How lovely to watch a game and want both teams to win!  Unusual as normally there is always a reason to prefer one or despise the other (yes Celtic & Rangers I mean you!)  Even referee Willie Collum, known as 'Gollum' to most, did not do too badly today.  Then as the machine defragmented I watched the second rate English Cup Final, the one in which you always know which team will win.  Today, to celebrate my victory in the 'Prediction League' I once again forecast a 4-0 win, and as always I was right!  No prizes but a smug smile will do.

Now watching the end of the football I took to ironing shirts.  This is the result of females not doing the job they were clearly made for.  Three shirts I managed to iron without burning them - this time - and that will do for a few weeks.  Tsk!  A woman would have done them all in the time it took me to do three.  Which reminds me...

 

The third price rise of Autumn has come home today.  After the water company deciding I drink too much (I certainly don't bath to much as my landlords secretary pointed out today, and I was so nice to her too), and the Gas company watching winter approach and knowing that I have gas central heating raising their price, today the direct debit for electric rose from £25 a month to £41.  A short, and pointless, discussion with one of their reps got me nowhere.  Now clever people switch companies, as our PM told us to, but some of us are on annual contracts that may cost money to leave, thus losing any benefit moving may give.  Tomorrow I will read up on this but if I am suffering like this how are others surviving?  I need that simple, non physical, light, non intellectual, and well paid work yesterday!  Maybe I ought to start up a utility of some sort?

Talking of a waste of money.....
The skatepark opposite is being refurbished once again. The locals did not want this, the kids all come from far away, and the brats leave the place filthy, in spite of ten new bins being erected, and now it is costing thousands to renovate. The idea of the skatepark is good, the placing of it terrible.  The kids today for the most part behave, although a group of undesirable older chaps have appeared recently.  However there is an element of running after the kids rather than demanding more responsibility for them.  There is no comparison to when I was a lad, we just played football five nights a week for the most part, and that near our own door. Rarely did we have situations that can be compared to this, and human nature does not change.  

Ah, women doing what they do best - housework!

I've got some ironing if any of you girls wish to practice....?

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