Late yesterday I found an email from the landlord telling me the man was coming to fix the floorboards.
This was a surprise, I had not requested this. It goes back to her survey of a few months back and she has decided to fix things (which were OK in my view anyway) and sort it. She is female.
So I was up early, having moved things last night, to move more things early this morning for the man who came early. He did indeed fix the squeaky floorboards well, much to the downstairs neighbours delight, paint the ceiling, find a leak in the boiler I did not know about, paint some pipes, leave a mess, which I hoovered, then returned the house to normal. He left about 2:30 and I was worn out!
Then a bullying email from the plumber regarding leaving my phone off, she had been trying to call me, she is also female, which I attended to. Now I expect a boiler man in the morning to check to leak, which my man fixed, and find the cause or ensure the thing works properly.
Our man is very good. He works hard, does the job well, he says, and moves on to one of the many other properties that require his attendance. I meanwhile require hospital treatment for the muscles that now squeak more than the floorboards once did. Not being used to work but glad to have done so much, including hoovering places not hoovered for many a day, and already planning other jobs that I must do while I can, those these must wait until the man tomorrow early again.
Simpering lies from Sunak. Covid, Ukraine war, anything but BREXIT and lying incompetent Prime Ministers, Boris, Truss, and himself. Not only is he living in a false world he has created in his head but he rather foolishly thinks we believe it also. A long goodbye from the man electioneering on the podium. Just go back to your money, the money you have avoided tax on, and join the other gangsters in never-never land.
So, now to find out who is standing in this area. We know the Tory vote will still come out, though many will remain indoors. Who will be the Labour candidate? If he has a name he might win well, if he is just another nobody the Home Secretary may keep his place and start a campaign for the leadership of the rump.
I note the July 4th date. That is the week Scottish schools go on holiday. Did they realise this? Was this done to reduce the SNP vote? That will not succeed.
With Xmas approaching, you may have heard about it by now, I have been scouring the second hand book market for items suitable for the lassies up north who can read. This is a suitable talent as it means they can explain the big words to their men.
One beautiful and highly intelligent niece has always had a thing for King Robert the Bruce. As a lass she forced her mother to trail around Dunfermline, where he is buried, and elsewhere looking for a sight of him, or something connected to him. While it is possible she may already have this book dumped in a cupboard somewhere, I thought I would include it in the box I will send.
The late David R. Ross wrote quite a few books about Scotland and her people, this is the only one I have actually read. It combines the history of the man with a tourist guide to places connected to him. Ross has done his best to visit all the connecting castles, battlefields, houses and such like that are believed to have seen the great Robert pass by through touring them on his motorbike.
The known genealogy is traced, his two wives, both dying before him, their suffering under the terrors of Edward I and his brutality, their imprisonment, and following successful births his son.
Edward, like all Englishmen, consider Scotland to be theirs, they are very wrong! Bruce endured much pain and loss, his brothers dying, sometimes barbarically under Edward's thuggery. However no matter how he tried Edward could not control Scotland, William Wallace ought to have made that clear to him! And happily Edward the Brute died near Carlisle once again attempting the impossible, to control Scotland. Three cheers!
This book details the failures as well as successes. The guerrilla warfare, the main battles 'God bless Bannockburn!' and the suffering of those imprisoned. What cannot be known, but only guessed at, is the response of the soldiers on both sides. Some English Knights left writings, some Scots nobles, but the man in the army could not do this. Enthusiastic they certainly were, and very willing to risk all for the cause, but we do not know what they actually thought, this is sad.
Edward II was disposed off by his wife and Knights, Edward III attempted war, and lost, and the ravaging of the north of England put many English nobles off the idea of war. In the end economic loss, an understanding they could not win, caused Edward III to seek peace.
Bruce then established his Kingdom and Scotland was able to flourish without barbaric English interference. At least for a while, the inbuilt English imperialism and arrogance remains with us still!
The 1707 bribery and the intimidation at the referendum see Scotland stuck under the English Jackboot still. This will not last. Another Bruce will arise, and Special Branch will not defeat that one, and Scotland will once again be free!
Anyone wish to argue?
At last I can look forward to breathing fresh air once again. No more bleach on every suitable surface! The landlords woman came today. She was quite happy considering she got locked inside one flat. I wondered if he in flat No 6 was having a strange turn, but it was the broken locks on the door meant she could not get out. When I found her she was with two locksmiths attempting to put right all that flats locks.
She came, she wandered about taking a picture here a picture there, all the time telling me to stop licking her feet. I am off the opinion she ought to have removed her shoes first. The inspection was short, friendly, and we discussed one or two things, but not the things I remembered long after she had departed! Why is it always like this? No complaint was made, not even from other tenants!
The bar of Christmas chocolate donated to her also made her happy, always a success with women is chocolate, and she left me with no threats of drastic action, as yet anyway. Now, I must uncover all the hidden things and put them right before she comes back!
I could not discover what the game was. I canny understand this inspection. Of course during the previous years the boys have been working on the flats so problems have been obvious to them, if any. Now I just await any comeback from this. Back at HQ they will inspect the pictures, lay plans for the cheapest option on any proposed action, but so far all appears well. However, as we get on well, and her man is one of the boys who fix things and he is good, and the mess has been cleaned up, it all may pass over. Also she never mentioned anything out of place, so maybe all will be well.
Unless something is afoot down at HQ.
It is however, difficult to move when you expect a visit and the place is clean. I was scared to touch anything in case I had to scrub it again! Now I can relax, but I actually like it clean, I wonder how long it will last?
Subscribing to this young lass would be good, if that is you find this interesting and entertaining. She is very clever, she told me this herself, and mum and dad are so pleased after spending so much money educating her!
That is how I reacted this morning as I woke to face another hard days work. I have rattled through another long list of things that required doing badly, and as such I went on to do them all badly. The last time the place was this clean I had just moved in.
Funnily enough, if you find this funny, the reading for yesterday, Zephaniah 1, was all about the day of judgement coming unexpectedly. It would fall on Jerusalem and this could be read as the actual last day of earth also. This fitted well with the looming Landlord approaching.
My day was not encouraged by seeking out some old items on the 1/5th Essex regiment. One of the lassies grandfather served with them and I sought out a piece that may be of interest. There were several things, so I edited them, posted them on a 'Word' page, and added a longish piece discussing their deeds in the middle east.
I then clicked the 'X' button, and it all disappeared!
I use a different writing system usually, and that would ask if I wished to save or not, 'Word' did not ask and it went! I thought it may have gone to their store in the sky, but no. So, having edited this for around an hour and a half I then had to do it all again. I was pleased.
The longish item was new to me, I could not remember this from before. It was as I read it, the bad English showing up well, that I realised I wrote it. The mistakes were eradicated, the spelling also amended, and in the end I was pleased somewhat with the material I had plagiarised.
So, off it went and soon I may get a reply offering threats. Women can be so touchy...
Today at 4 pm the boys were to arrive and deal with the oven problem.
As expected, they arrived at 12 noon!
I am well aware of their timekeeping!
However, a quick look at the oven, a few screws undone, a quick unplug from the electric, and soon the old was out and shortly after the process reversed and the new installed.
Not only new, but clean!
Take a good look, it will not be like this forever!
Not only clean but 'fan assisted,' whatever that means. Now my chicken is slowly either cooking or burning, as yet I know not which. Soon I will be able to test the fire alarms once again by rudimentary cooking principles.
A good landlord is better than a mortgage any day.
Boris was lying to the House again today, as expected.
The 'Whips' are demanding all Conservative MP's turn up for the vote on Thursday to prevent Boris being forced to answer to the Conservative led Committee regarding his lying to the house, among other things.
Will any refuse? Will we never be rid of this man? Even Tories want him out, only UKIP and National Front wish him to remain. Whatever happens here on May 5th the local elections will see massive losses for the Tory Party, and Boris may have to face the music then.
Today he flew of to India, warmer than hiding in a fridge. He climbed the stairs carrying a 'red box,' just for a photo op. PMs do not carry their own boxes!
As I looked out the window this afternoon my mind retreated to the pictures on Jenny's site I saw this morning. There the sun shone, the sky was blue and life was jolly. Outside my window a great big dark cloud was looming from the west and soon after it dropped a copious amount of water on all and sundry. I had to pity those who were wandering across the park when it broke, though I did so from behind my window pane. At least that got a bit of a clean from the rain. This was the first real rain we have had during the day for some time, however it has been damp some nights when I am not interested on looking for it. The farmers will not be happy. Hot sun last year, warm winter an little rain. Price increases all round and that on top of Brexit at that, woopee! However I will be feeding well this week, all the buffet stuff from yesterday fills the fridge, most of it will last several days before turning green and lots of cheese with which to give myself cholesterol poisoning. Having had to clean the place for her majesty's arrival I need to keep it clean and hide all the faults for tomorrow when the landlord checks the boiler. This has only been in six months and will not take long but I am working hard at the museum, unless I can get out of it, which means they will be here alone. If the handyman comes, which is usual that is fine but if the boss comes herself, well she is a woman and will see things I don't see - like dust. Tonight, before the football at seven I must move things, hide things and fill the sink with bleach to make it appear clean. I hope she does not read this.
Nothing has happened since I got the new mattress as I have suffered ever since. Working the next day, hard work even though not one visitor entered, running around sorting others mess before I even started. Getting milk to discover it was already there and since then suffering aches in my knees that will not leave. Therefore I have gone no further than Tesco. This is made worse as the sun has shone, in spite of strong winds which must have done Wales no good as they got the rain that goes with it, and I was stuck in here. Worse also was Scotland's ignoble defeat from Israel, my inability to see it as I don't have SKY TV and no football on worth watching until Friday night and tonight. However I did meet the new Landlord on Wednesday. By new I mean the daughter of my deceased Landlord who alongside her husband has taken over the running of the shop. This went reasonably well and indicates good things especially as I dropped a note to her mum after dad died and it appears mum remembered me and liked the note. I will not get evicted for a wee while then? I wish I had invited her in for a cup of cheap tea, the place was tidy and it might not be so for a while again! Tsk!
There was a royal wedding this week, it took up most of the media for a not important royal and cost millions of public money. Her father may be pleased but public money has never meant much to him, he ought to be a Tory MP, he has the makings. But I ask, who are the folks that queue up all night to be there when it happens? I understand women watching strangers weddings, questioning her choice of dress, bridesmaids and husband but why follow minor royals as if this was important? What do people get out of following the royals? Crowds gather wherever they appear, the event I understand, but those who are always there I don't?
The Landlord I have known for around 25 years has passed on recently. He was always good to me and there was rarely problems. The staff who worked for him, under some pressure because of his miserly ("What 4 tea bags for 4 people? Use a teapot!") ways and constant interfering, pushing them to do two jobs at once when they were already doing two others! However I did not suffer and now he has gone the houses have been taken over by his daughter and her husband. What changes she will bring running the organisation we have to wait and see. However in the meantime there are legalities to be gone through, an estate agent must visit to value the house's and flats for probate, and depending on who you speak to there are between 180 and 300 properties, not counting the big 'pile' he himself lived in (but bodged up rather than splash out on). So today it was arranged for her to come with agent for valuation, this meant I stayed in just for the opportunity of meeting her or the assistant lass who does the work in the office. This also meant I had to forego the opportunity to visit Southend, the home of the 'Essex Girl and Essex Boy' where my niece was playing piano at lunchtime. Thus deprived of music and the opportunity to take a picture of the mile long pier while the sun shone I remained indoors. Rising half asleep as always I breakfasted on stale bread forgetting the new loaf was available and spent time ensuring the place looked tidier than it actually is. This meant placing items on rusty sinks, hiding blotches and piling things in neat piles rather than higgledy-piggledy. So I waited. There are six flats, two unoccupied with the workmen (workman as the other has gone down to Mersea, by the estuary to work there while the sun shines!) redecorating and renovating the flats. I was the only person in today as all the others are at work or play. So I waited. I was ready by nine more or less and continued my day, without making any mess, while I listened out for the door. By eleven I was becoming hungry and took the recycling bag out and spoke to John the hard at workman. "He was supposed to be here at 9 am," he said from up a ladder. We groused over this, and the rubbish outside and discussed what to do with it and waited, well he painted. So I returned to waiting. Having found the new loaf from yesterday I made a far to thick sandwich with old turkey meat, and I mean old, and watched 'Match of the Day 2' as I gobbled. I waited on. Eventually a noise was heard, John failing to work out which key opened the door was getting desperate so banged on the front door. He was there with the estate agent but no landlady, no assistant just John! Well, thought I, this was not worth waiting for! So the man did his job while we all chatted about things of great merit and then he left with John struggling to get the hall light to work and to find the key for No 5. I helpfully enquired if he would be able to find the door on the way out but did not catch the response. So I waited in vain. I would have thought the new boss would wish to meet me, don't all women? At least the second in command of the office could have come over. Instead I sat here listening to radio programmes and wondering what I ought to be doing but failing to find an answer I wish to discover....I am still failing there.
Justice is done! Some time ago a man called on a in Belfast baker ordering a cake. This was acceptable until he demanded it was topped with a message supporting gay rights. Daniel McArthur who runs Ashers Bakery rightly refused as being Christian and profoundly disagreeing with gay marriage this was against his beliefs. Gareth Lee, for it was he, sued. Supported by the 'Equality Commission' in Northern Ireland (according to power sharing this is run by Sein Fein) he went to court and the local judge, a woman, found the Ashers had discriminated by refusing to bake something that disagreed with their beliefs and conscience. This goes against the freedom of conscience that must be allowed in the United Kingdom. This surely is part of 'British Values.' Ashers appealed and eventually the Court of Appeal turned down their appeal but questioned the motivation of the Equality Commission in bringing the case. Thus the Ashers went to what is now called the Supreme Court. This was once know as 'The Lords' as the Law Lords judged sch cases but Tony Blair in his desperation to be president amended the name thus. Today the Court gave the verdict that no discrimination because he was gay was involved. ''As to Mr Lee's claim based on sexual discrimination, the bakers did not
refuse to fulfil his order because of his sexual orientation. They
would have refused to make such a cake for any customer, irrespective of
their sexual orientation.'' "Mr Lee had no claim against Ashers on the grounds of religious belief or political opinion." In short the whole thing was a stunt. Belfast, a divided city, a protestant baker approached by a gay man hoping to be refused, there are other bakers in Belfast. Supported by nationalist equality commission he sues with £250,000 being spent by them on this case. Four long years in which discriminating against Christians has been legalised has come to an end. Gays discriminating against Christians is a common thread, a determined attack on any faith that rightly opposes gay marriage or abortion. This court judgement ends that discrimination. Give thanks to God for justice, give thanks as the repercussions will go far and improve many lives.
Another book finished and I am glad to have read 'The Team for Me.' Our friend Mike has put together several books, I am not jealous, and the latest one is a brave account of his fifty years following the Heart of Midlothian. A jolly atmosphere filled book where all aspects of football fan, from the programme to the reception provided by Glasgow policemen finds a place. Many times I knew I had been there, many times I understood how the author's emotions jangled, many times I understood why tears appeared, that comes from following a football team, especially this one! However fans from all clubs will emote as they read. The grounds change, the club names may be different and the league or division may be higher or lower but the situation in which a man's life is lifted to the heights or brought down to the depths depending on the result of a football game does not change. This is a book for the 'real fan' not the one who changes scarves at the start of every season t follow the one seen on TV, this is a book the real fan can understand. As an example of that as I read I could not get out of my head sitting behind the goals at Love Street Paisley with the sleet in my face as we huddled together singing "We shall overcome" while the Heart of Midlothian were losing three nil to a St Mirren side that were getting relegated and we scored the first goal two minutes in! Thank you Danny Ferguson! Bah!
At just after noon the boiler man arrived keen and willing (keen to be elsewhere and willing to find a reason to charge) and soon he had decided a new boiler was required. As it happened the landlord, the daughter of the deceased man I knew, was in the building, not that she wished to see me of course, and he rushed off to discuss the deal. I never saw him again! An hour or so later a call from the plumbers announced the 5th of October would be a 'New Boiler Day' just in time for winter. So this sounds very good indeed to me. A Friday morning which tells me it will be working by noon so they can take the rest of the day off! Fine with me, I shall run away for an hour or two and let them get on with it.
Life, in this misty world today, was full of surprises. For a start I was not sick, I had food, except bread, I did not need to rush out and no crabbit emails arrived. Instead I slowly wandered about Tesco enjoying the need not to rush. Of course I came home to remember what I forgot to buy! I then cogitated on Deuteronomy 7, the book that lies at the heart of our liberal thinking. Not that a Guardian reader will agree. After exercising I counted the aches and went for a haircut. What a surprise, I got in! Instead of being crowded with kids being trimmed for next weeks back to school there was only a spotty teenager, scowl attached, awaiting a 'Number Two,' whatever that is. Naturally I felt cold wandering home with a lot less hair, and my mind was full of wondering where all that silver stuff had come from. I also wondered why I have hair while my dad (who died at 61) has so little. His hair was thin, possibly this was the old army back and sides showing through and his army need to cut hair that was not long. My brother and I had plenty of hair and of course I retain my youthful looks. The only disturbance was a call from the landlord's man while I was unavailable. It sounded urgent. I called back expecting to be turfed out, rent increased, damage reported, complaints made, and found they merely wished to send a man in to test 'energy performance.' Naturally I pointed out there has been no energy performed here for at east fifteen years but it appears she was talking about the building. I still fail to understand as this has not happened before and sounds like they have something up their sleeve. It may lead to improved windows, these are 'listed' so cannot be replaced by plastic ones, and this certainly would increase the 'energy performance.' These windows for the most part are original, 1812 I believe. That is probably the last time they were cleaned. I wonder what the man is up to with such exploits? I have been ignoring the telly, the news happens but I have missed it today, Commonwealth Games are taking place somewhere but I have little interest, and other things are happening but if I ignore them they actually do not change my life in any way. There is a story in there somewhere. One thing I have noticed in the adverts that fill most screens is the way you never see black people together. One add showed a black man suffering while coaching kids football, his wife appears at the end but she is white. Another shows a black man on a train hand his 'tablet' to a child, who is white, yet another shows a sentimental mother dressing her daughter for her wedding - to a white man! Why is it that a black couple are never shown? There have been adverts for products featuring black or Indian families, why are they not shown now? Did UKIP object?
I was impressed by the screaming headlines in the press this morning concerning the tower block fire yesterday. All called for someones head, all yelled about safety, all demanded something ought to be done. Where were they several years ago when the tenants of this block demanded changes? Where was the press opposition when the Labour Party attempted to ensure landlords made their properties safe for tenants? They were nowhere as these were not important stories for the daily press, sex, scandal, political intrigue and immigrants sells papers not dangerous housing, especially among the lower orders. Especially when some 71 Conservative MPs who voted against the Labour bill demanding landlords took action were and still are landlords themselves! The Tory press would not mention this. Out of some 400 or so tenants less than half have been identified, I feel for the foremen who have to clear the building once it is made safe. When these buildings arose in the 1950's they were an answer to a desperate housing problem. It was not long before the dehumanising aspect of the style of building came to the fore, and indeed the misbehaviour of the people living in such blocks. Lack of authoritative control, ignorant tenants and soon these places were wastelands. Only once done up and sold off to paying owners with porters, sorry 'Concierge' at the door could such places work. It is not just the building but the people that ruin such creations. Of course many were badly designed, many have been destroyed and more human housing produced but in the end the people decide whether a housing development works or not. I liked the idea of being high up, great views, wonderful skies, but if the lift breaks you are trapped. We know know, and ought to have known long ago, that fire is a hazard to be avoided. No block of flats ought to go over four stories in my view, this enables most firemen to gain access to you. It was very difficult to watch the pictures of the trapped high above, or listen to the tales of the survivors. This made worse by endless speculation and repetition of survivors stories over and over again to no-ones advantage. Of course the £62 million or so taken from the Fire Service has to play a part, closing fire stations, and I read somewhere that yesterday the government sold all the fire engines and equipment to a private company on the very day this fire erupted. That requires checking but sounds just like this government. I was intrigued to find a link on Twitter to an item in the London Evening Standard blaming cuts to services as one factor responsible for the fire, the Evening Standard the paper now 'edited' by one George Osborne the failed chancellor of the Exchequer who brought in the 'austerity' that gave us the cuts and decimated the Fire Service, the Police, the Ambulance crews, the NHS and everything else! I wonder if George read that item?
When I met one of my women today we discussed, among other important topics, the response to the tragedy. People were collecting items to send, food, clothes, blankets and the other daily requirements that the folks from the tower have lost. I noticed some wished to do so round her, others as far away as Fife were offering items and then I began to think something was not right here. For a start this disaster occurred in London, relatively close to the centre of the city and with seven or eight million people and a good number there willing to help there is no real need for people at a distance offering such aid. A friend of mine is in close contact with the Latymer Church which is close to the tower and had things been desperate I suspect a call would have gone out for items.
So what makes people respond this way? When I was fifteen the Aberfan disaster occurred. This was a mining village in Wales where an unsteady coal bing, the residue of coal waste that towered above the village gave way and fell across the village destroying the primary school and killing around one hundred and fifty young children. Far away in Edinburgh watching this unfold on our rented Black and White TV I was gripped with a desire to go and dig out the kids. An absurd idea as if miners and police could not save the I certainly would not. Years later while working for a charitable organisation I came across a wise item in a magazine where the author asked about those helping at Aberfan, they would come for miles to help he said but would they care about the man next door having a breakdown? It is easy to rush to a disaster, it is hard to cope with daily stress of individual or local group disasters, no less real but not so spectacular. Is rushing to a disaster such as this from far away the right thing to do, is it really 'loving your neighbour?'
Another man who has had a personal disaster is Tim Farron the Lib-Dem leader. His party did not have an great success during the election, it did however grow from I think 8 seats to 12 so it wasn't all bad, but he himself was hounded by the media not on his policies but because he follows Jesus. When interviewed there were few policy questions merely constant queries regarding whether he thought as a Christian homosexuality was a sin. This was the constant refrain and sadly he failed to cope with this. Instead of loudly brazing it out and saying "Yes it is!" he attempted to compromise out of 'consideration' for others opinions. This was wrong! The other day a senior Liberal in the House of Lords resigned because he objected to the biblical position offered by Tim, this has forced Tim Farron into resigning his position as leader. A mistake in my view. This Lord ought to have been castigated for his intolerance, his prejudice and his religious discrimination and thrown out of the party! It is the Liberal Party after all so why has he now allowance for liberty? Underneath all this lies the clear anti-Christian forces that dominate the media, that through the gay lobby harass those who stick to Christian principles (the Muslims are however never attacked as they might fight back) and white, middle class socialists, who have never done a proper days work in their lives, dominate the world. We must obey their commands and accept homosexuality and all the other apparently new found behaviours as normal even if they are not. From primary schools now children are indoctrinated to believe such behaviour is normal, instead of accepting people who behave thus, a very big difference! The gay lobby leads the attack on the church as that is the truth that the power behind them hates, Christians such as Tim Farron ought to be given support to take his stand and not attacked constantly because of this.
We are right to wonder if there would have been a Lord grumbling if Tim won a lot of seats, we are right to wonder if all would be different then? Possibly the Lord was only one man involved in a coup and we will soon know if his friend the new leader, whoever he may be, invites him to be a spokesman for something in the Lords.
I was forced out into the sunshine thrice today. Not only did I have to visit two supermarkets to obtain cheap supplies but the brutes at the bird feeders broke one of the feeders and later I had to walk in the heat wearing dark glasses and bumping into things just to buy another. Naturally the young girls at the counter were impressed with my 'James Bond' approach, I could tell by the way they looked at me, one of them even woke up long enough to almost smile. I could see she was finding it tough having spend many years in school learning about many things and discovering work was in fact boring! Having gained umpteen 'O' and 'A' levels and been interviewed as if she was applying for work as a rocket scientist she finds herself at a check out in a far too warm and stuffy store dealing with the public! Poor lass, I hope something better arrives soon. I always like to cheer such as her up by reminding them they can leave at 65 or 70 and enjoy retirement but they always look so glum when I do. It's a giggle mind!
I was surprised to hear how many various animals were being saved by the animal sanctuary that parades in the town centre twice a year. Beginning with donkeys they now have a variety of equine type creatures plus goats and cats and almost anything that gets dumped on them or saved by them. This was one wee pony happily stuffing himself and making friends with wee girls who found the special feed they ought not to have found, the pony liked them a lot.
Usually there are other animals, chickens, sheep etc, but the only other one that should have appeared, a donkey, was not in the mood and would not come to visit. Anyone who deals with animals knows that they rule the roost, not you! The man accompanying the animals and the table spread with things no use to me but helping to aid their funds was very helpful and chatty. I have the link somewhere and one day will visit them on their home site if possible. Remus
My landlord, now 86 years of age, has begun to forget things. This is worrying for a man who has a sharp mind. He has been diagnosed with early dementia of a mild type but that means little if you forget things constantly. I begin to worry as to what this means for the home as we have no idea who would run the company if he gave up. However today I have been tired and spent much time forgetting things also. It is worrying the things that get forgotten, like switching of lights, oven, shutting doors and forgetting what I am doing while staring into a cupboard. I am not sure whether this is age, dementia or just stupidity, it is hard to tell. My typing is awful also, red lines appear constantly as the words do not spell themselves very well, I blame the laptop. However if the landlord goes what happens to me then? Ah well life is full of interesting developments.
So far two election leaflets for the County Council have dropped through the door, one Tory (who will win) one Labour. I glanced at both wondering whether it was worth bothering to read them as they always say the same things and do what they wish anyway. This area always vote for the Conservative in spite of the facts as the rich middle classes (of whom there are many) outnumber the divided poorer lot. UKIP, the fascist/protest/numbskulllittleenglanderpeople have taken some votes from the Tories and run them close last time, however Brexit has killed them and the Labour Party with its non-leader offer little in response. What a state politics has got itself into. The national UK government is abysmal with no opposition bar the SNP and local governments are abysmal with not enough people willing to come out and vote to remove the chancers while we can. I could read the leaflets but think recycling them will do the world more good.
It was twenty years ago today that I entered this domicile, as I remember at the Easter weekend that year. Twenty years, almost as long as the time I spent in London, longer than most murderers serve these days in this country, longer than many folks marriages last. That Easter weekend I turned up to discover there are many differences from living in a bustling city, as I always had done, and existing in a small market town out in the sticks! One such was the electric meter, this was at that time paid weekly by a card system to stop folks running away and leaving the lights on for the landlord to pay. I had no card. My limited memory tells me I had two £1 cards which didn't get much electric in an all electric house and somehow I discovered the Post Office was the place to go. The long weekend was on us and electric was useful at this time so cheerfully I waited for ever in the queue to be told things had changed and none could be given out till Tuesday next week, I forget the reason why. That somewhat chilly Easter Weekend, it is usually chilly at Easter, I spent an enormous amount of time trying to conserve the limited power I had. For reasons which I forget I discovered and emergency button which allowed me a free £5 of power to be paid later, I grabbed this with both hands, the same hands I wrapped around a candle in a vain effort to keep warm in the dark at night. A long weekend that was, eventually Tuesday arrived and I managed to obtain the new cards for the meter. How lovely to switch the wall heaters on! How lovely to eat hot food without watching the clock! Ah well things settled down and twenty years on the meter is paid monthly, the gas fired central heating while expensive works well, life is settled in some ways and this boring little town which at first I thought had closed down has become home. The day I walked down 'The Avenue' listening to the birds singing and watching the blue sky above I realised it was not such a bad place after all. Getting old and no longer interested in the false flashiness of city life, the bright lights here I admire are the ones that stop the traffic so I can cross, may have had something to do with it but in the end this town had all I wished for. Local doctors, supermarkets, rail & bus, all that was missing was a church and a woman to do the laundry. The last two have still not arrived.
So today I arose feeling considerably better than I have done for weeks, I slept until nine, I arose and coughed my way through to the east wing to contemplate cleaning up some of the mess I have left behind me. It was time to celebrate the twenty years, time to remind the Landlords lassie how long I had been here, time to remind his workmen how many cups of tea they had drunk! Twenty long years, I wondered how I could commemorate this event? What would be suitable, what would ease my pain and give me a day to remember...? The electric was off! What? The kettle would not start. It was one of Tesco's best (£5) and it was bust. Then I noticed the laptop, always the first thing switched on, was not going online. After fussing for a bit I realised the WI-FI was dead, so was the phone, so was everything else bar the lights. After about three hours it struck me the laptop has a battery that is why it came on but this fooled me into thinking that was one plug that worked. I fussed but the deadened mind was thinking slowly, oh so slowly, and I called the Landlord to speak to my friend Lisa. "Hello, this is Lorna." Lisa has followed Chris, the one who ran the place for around 15 years, out the door in an attempt to make some money. Lorna was the new lass and she sounded about 19! I explained the situation and she called John the workman and later he called to say he would be round. No tea in a dead all electric house. No hot food with a dead oven, dead microwave and dead head. Having eaten only rarely in the past week and living on my abundance of fat I was not too keen to do without something warming. Add to my desire to return to bed, eat something hot and stay far from the world came the noise of men repairing the road outside while others hammered away at one of the other flats somewhere round the back. My joy was complete. John arrived claiming to be unwell and looking sickeningly well while he said so. Quickly we traced the various fuses, I had tried earlier, and we soon knew it was the kettle itself that had blown. It probably blew as I switched it one but no spark, noise or explosion occurred at that time, not that I noticed anyway, and having proved the point John left grinning. Still this meant I could heat things and later would obtain a new kettle.
Having managed to rise, decided life could be good and then had it smashed in my face I returned to the real world and switched on the laptop which connected with the real world of the Internet! At last I could get on with the important work of reading email, facebook, Twitter, and the various gutter press editions that lay about. What's this? "You connect via WI-FI. Log on here BT Fon?" There follows a list of things to select What? A bloody virus! The whole morning wasted already and now a virus! There was in the end nothing to do but run a Boot Time Scan which takes hours! This I did and while I pretended to eat, my insides were not fooled, the scan ran and ran. Later, much later, I was able to make use of the laptop thankful the brute had gone. It had not gone! Oh no he was still hanging around and the thing had to be done again. It was not till near five o'clock that I finally satisfied myself he was beaten, I hope I am right!
There were times today I wondered where my guardian angels had disappeared to. I realise this is not an easy option, they could on the other hand have Donald Trump, I understand the difficulties involved but all I wanted was to rise feeling considerably better than I have done for the past ten days, I wished to make and eat a nourishing breakfast, clean the mess of the last week and hopefully return to work tomorrow. Instead the electric goes, my friends go and some sort of JS virus arrives. To my mind this is not what I wished for this morning. Luckily the other day I discovered just how many people are suffering this bug in similar fashion to myself. Thousands are being beaten down by the latest flu,cold, man flu bug. An item in the paper drew many to comment on their long lasting problem, three months in some cases and mine goes back to February yet nothing can be done about it but suffering. Onwards and upwards, 'per adva ad astra' as they say in the RAF, in Edinburgh we say "Haul awa lads, I'm no deid yet."
As I turned in I noticed two postmen I knew, good men and true, one on his bike heading out bearing that constant smile on his face, a smile that makes us wonder what he had been inhaling, and the other who appeared to all purposes now to work in this office. I took my ticket and collected the note detailing my winnings. The money amount was clearly marked at the top and as I glanced at the £24,000 there I noticed to my surprise the other prizes also. Two weeks in some sunny rich man's playground far away, a week elsewhere, and other lesser but quite welcome prizes. It was then I noticed the prize money was in fact £200,000! Much better and as I began to work out where I could get a wee house for that amount I turned towards the desk to claim the winnings when I heard John Humphreys muttering banalities on the 'Today' programme muttering about the time. "Drat! Not even got my head of the pillow and already I have lost £200,000!" So I entered Tuesday in the manner in which I intended to continue, as so it proved. The day was dominated by another ex-US hurricane which were supposed to flood us out, knock down all the trees and high buildings and cause mayhem everywhere. Indeed in places this was the case but it does appear we now err on the side of safety and urge warnings a wee bit too keenly I reckon. The use of common sense by the populace is lessening. I persevered. Slowly I went through the routine, slowly I ate, slowly I ignored the news, slowly it dawned on me that I was watching the clock say ten minutes past ten. "Ah, I can get ready at half past I thought. Suddenly the fog lifted, I was supposed to start at ten and it was ten past already! Dementia has begin folks. I faced the struggle to the museum bravely even though driving rain threatened to wash me away as I limped up the road. It stopped once I arrived and remained quiet until I came home! Busy as we were, fixing those little things that needed fixing, cutting thinsg that needed cutting and sellotaping things that should not have been cut, dealing with lots of visitors, including in fact one real dementia patient and her escort - what a sad sight that was - discovering a school class was quietly wrecking the joint and another event was on today so that much of the day was taken up with others running around daft for that. This left me alone much of the time and luckily nothing demanding occurred. I also took delivery of large old books, for myself, which I bought (cheap) from a colleague which then required lugging home. Lots of heavy reading lies ahead. I made two trips and collected the rest today. How heavy can a book be I wondered? My arms now reach my knees. At least our own book is now in stock and should be on sale today. On top of this my knees ache and carrying heavy bags does not help. Having got two lots home, up the stairs, and onto the floor I then lay beside them gasping for breath and demanding oxygen from whoever heard my groans. No reply came the reply! The fog over the mind all day was so bad that even though I attempted to watch two football matches I could hardly concentrate on the first, it just tired me out, and the second failed so badly I actually had to switch it off and sleep. That reminds, me I must buy some brandy.... Today began without losing vast amounts of money, and the £150 million is still available in the lottery if I buy a ticket. Instead of dreaming of wealth beyond my wildest dreams I hobbled all the way to the Post Office, waited while the man in the steel helmet, visor and armoured outfit delivered the new stamps, and then I posted three expensive packets. Tripping over my own feet on the way back I wondered why those men never smile? Is it part of the training to look tough in case the old women in the shop attack you? So far when meeting such men they give the impression of being soul dead. Rarely do they look the type you would employ let alone trust with valuables. I suspect most are recruited from ex-prisoners. I limped to the museum, collected my remaining heavy books and asked if the girls there could help by massaging my knees for me. They flung me out the door somewhat rudely and left me to collect myself and climb back over the wee wall from the garden bit where I landed and attempt to make my way home. This proved difficult as today's Victorian school arrived like a stampede of Buffalo and ran over me once again. As I climbed the stairs thanks were offered for bits of me still working. Then came the painters. Limited in their work by the rain nothing has been done for a week, one being afraid to climb the ladder in the high wind yesterday in case it blew him off, the big Jessie! I see no reason for this as he has already fallen off one so must be used to it. Today, as the rain ceased they glossed the bottom windows and following his success of leaving my living room window jammed for five years jammed the bedroom one! Much later, we both struggled after he had released the window from his six inches of paint and attempted to get the thing to shut again! He almost fell off his ladder that time, but I changed my mind and didn't push! Sash windows can be difficult, especially when he is around. This pair also involved me with clambering up and down stairs to assist lost motorists find places when their map failed to include the one way systems. I also had to convey tea to the workers. 'Workers' is a word used loosely around these parts. They have not finished and have been called away to other jobs. They might be back by February. My windows are open, downstairs remain jammed!
I had a call on Thursday from the landlord's lassie. She informed me he was arriving about three to look over the property. This was kind of her as it gave me a couple of hours to hoover, clean, wash, scrub, and hide all the faults that I ought to have fixed, mended, repaired and painted long ago, indeed a very long time ago! I must say he is a good landlord and his staff are excellent, I have no complaints there, but this year little has been done that ought to be done as I have been too busy!
Naturally he did not arrive although I had my excuses laid out for him.
He has the eyes of a hawk and would see all the faults I have kindly hidden and he would not see the work I have done in maintenance, because it aint been done! ooer! I assumed he may come therefore on Friday so I took evasive action, wandered down to the bus station and got on the first bus to arrive. This at a time when I would rather have spent the day sleep after my exertions of the day before! However it was good to get the bus pass out and drive past fields of green, with a mist in the distance, or was it a house on fire, not to sure. I wandered about the bits of boring Chelmsford that I had not been bored by before, and this without a camera to picture the one or two old and interesting buildings, mostly Victorian, that survive in the badly rebuilt town. The motor car has led to the pedestrianisation of the centre of town, which is fine, but there are dual carriageways running next too them which is less attractive, especially as old streets and buildings have been demolished for the important vehicle. This may be practical but is not enhancing the city. Some towns have managed to improve themselves even with an increase in vehicles and selfish drivers but far too many have knocked down good buildings for roadways. It is not an attractive place now, practical but boring.
Of course as I returned footsore and weary he had not visited. I might check tomorrow if I need to urgently visit Colchester!
Saturday at the museum began well. The thunder and lightning overhead shook the house during the night and as I prepared my good looks in the morning the rain thundered down also as lightning continued to reverberate all around. As I arrived the Big Boss grumpily let me in and muttered something about alarms. Indeed the lightning had switched off all the alarms, knocked out the town clock (he is responsible for the Town Hall also) and rain flooded their basement. In his hurry to be in several places at once, and having been up half the night with all this, he forgot he had the only key to the light switches. We therefore had a dark museum, not fire alarms, and a kids event to run. This had to be cancelled at the computers and photocopier all failed also.
I wandered about switching on anything that worked but the young lass was afraid to move through the darkened museum to open some of the locked doors, until the torch on her iphone was used to guide her as she ran through! Just as well we got it all going as by eleven we were busy for a while. How nice to meet interesting people and kids who don't wish to go home as they enjoy what they are finding.
Tonight I realised my ansafone was also dead because of the storm. I should have closed down the laptop during it as lightning landing nearby once killed the old modem in my first PC and led to me being ripped of in my ignorance of such things.
.JPG)
