I dragged myself out this morning, far from willingly I must say, as I was feeling the lack of foodstuffs, the diet losing weight but not feeding me well.
Many greeted me, the women offering hugs, the men distain.
Back to normal then.
I was glad to be there, various things had hindered me for a while, and Psalm Sunday is one of the major events in the year. The Anglican lot have many 'feast days' and memorials to various people, many of whom are better forgotten in my view, and Palm Sunday, Easter and Christmas are three that must be remembered.
Unfortunately, today coincided with what they call 'All Together Sunday.' This began when many kids were around, fewer today, and instead of a proper Palm Sunday the man in charge brought along people working among 'youth.'
'Hooray' thought I.
Now the work they do is tremendous, speaking for Jesus in schools, clubs and so on everywhere, and they offer what appears to be a proper Jesus to the young, though why she called the 'children' when they are teens I fail to understand. Luckily, when the speakers spoke, my mind was so tired I failed to concentrate and missed the practicalities, including the news of lack of cash.
While this spoiled things for me, others were encouraged so it was not all bad.
I was glad to be there, to speak to one or two, and listen to others gabbing away.
I failed to join in the 'march' around the church waving my palm branch, as you may expect, but many did parade happily. The CoE member is easily pleased. The tambourine's and shakers on offer also missed me when handed out.
I have accidentally collected too many books to read.
Certainly I took advantage of an 'Amazon' card to obtain three 2nd hand books via 'World of Books' for just over £7, this I find the best way to obtain them, but am I to blame for other books being given or er, found in places? They cannot be left lying around, someone might steal them, so taking them to a safe refuge such as my bookshelf is important.
Looking at these books I am wondering why I was looking through the 'Amazon' shelves again just because there is another £7 or so pounds to be used up. Shall I go for more Ronald Blythe, or another trip around the country? Possibly yet another 'must have ' Great War book that ought to be on my shelf? Suggestions, and I get them, to obtain books teaching spelling, grammar and 'How to Write Properly,' will be ignored as they were while I was at school.
A woman on Twitter the other day mentioned how she attempted to offer books to the local school. They were grateful but only took one. It appears kids will not read books, possibly the mobile phone and online research is good enough to get them through, depending on the subject.
Trying to warm the place up cheaply, I decided to bake what one woman called 'Wartime Shortbread.' Whether it has any other name I know not. 4oz, marge, 8 oz flour, 2 oz castor sugar, she says, though I tended to just dump it in, and 20 minutes later out comes a biscuit.
The last one I made tasted OK, though some fool had put in too much castor sugar. The same fool accidentally put in more this time. I need something late at night to accompany my tea and this is the answer, a cheap biscuit. Even I can do it, but it will never sell.
A similar version using oats worked last time, but it tends to put on weight when you just eat the lot in one go!
There is either an election or a fight for the Tory leadership going on at the moment as Priti Patel is constantly in the local paper being photographed at various needless functions. Whether they wish her to be there is not made clear. She represents the neighbouring constituency and as it was enlarged she has fought off the other MP there. She will run the whole show, and she hopes, the rump of the party.
She may be seen as the most responsible and sensible of the various contestants, which tells us something!
The daffodil does not represent Priti Patel, but I had no 'Snapdragons' available.
After I scribbled that I searched for something interesting to grumble about. There was nothing of note, just too much querying Kate and her dubious photo, lies from MPs, gunmen in Moscow and Tesco's new lunchtime menu, and a new 'England' shirt costing £125 that people object to, nothing important.
When I had dumped it all until tomorrow we find Kate appearing to speak of her next PR stunt. This one however, is serious. Whatever the cancer is, and I have lost three family members to various types, we know she will get the best treatment, unlike those under the Tory thumb.
We also know the press will fill their pages with sentimental slush, the opposite of the vile attacks they were making on her in recent days, as they realise that their making use of her as 'Diana 2' might be coming to an end. Yet they also know the vast pull out sections now being prepared will make lots of cash. They can keep her in the press for ten years or more, whatever happens.
Do any of them actually care? No, of course not!
I have little time for the royal benefit scroungers, however, this is upsetting for those close to her, and will not do dim Willie much good. A sad story, but one the press will run with for all they are worth.
Last night I had the pleasure of a visit from my favourite Great Nephew! He has a dew days of and motored down to Duxford to see the great airfield there, the vast collection of aircraft and the tanks at the far end. Even he found it much larger than he thought. It is a great huge space.
I did not go.
Twenty or so years ago I was there twice, both time with an attractive young woman, and we both found it exhilarating and tiring at the same time. The 'Battle of Britain Ops Room' a room where part of the Battle was directed from, the Fighter Collection, USAF, several aged passenger liners and the large Tank collection at the far end make it a great day out. It cost him around £30 however. These places are not cheap.
When he arrived, eventually, he found following my clear directions difficult, I fail to comprehend this as there are only two main roads in this town, he arrived and we set off down the road for dinner.
The 'Yak & Yeti' is a Ghurkha themed restaurant which turned out to be quite quiet, apart from those collecting their online orders, or taking them to the customer. Cleary the place is popular.
Our hot stuff was very good, the Ghurkha lager also excellent, far better than the stuff the yobs drink, and as he paid, in spite of my desperate pleading to pay, the evening went very well.
It has been many years since I saw him, and most of the others, one day I will make it up there, and not for a another funeral!
After he had left, I sat here attempting to sort the day out in my little head when there was a knock on the door. This means it could only be the downstairs woman. I heard some chatter down there and thought they were discussing who should take the dog out last thing.
It was very different.
I had not realised an ambulance was standing outside the door.
He had begun to have a stroke, the conversation was about calling an ambulance, he not bothered, she worried. The ambulance came, told him he was going with them, and off he went. No arguments with them.
She came up to inform me of this problem. One he has had before, and the lass was understandably worried. She remained here, probably for the best, and this afternoon I can hear him return to the fold. No doubt I will here soon about the result.
We can worry about global warming, WWIII, Freeports, and who will replace Sunak, but for most of us it is the reality of life that matters, strokes, arthritis, leg breaks, schools, and holidays are more relevant. As always, great happenings are occurring all around us, but it is where we are and what is happening to us that is really important.
My preference is to rise around 7 am, here I am again awake at 5.
And awake it is. No drowsiness, no yawning, no weariness appears.
Wide awake.
The street light has come on, soon followed by hints of the rising sun afar off.
At least those hints sneaking through the cloud cover.
Cars begin to pass by, sometimes three at a time, this because they stop at the traffic lights up the road.
Many have failed to stop at the red light, they are often halted outside my door by the unmarked police car and smug officer who at last has something to do.
The 7.5 ton bread van noisily heads up to Sainsburys.
An artic throbs its way in the opposite direction, his load removed and already an employee who wishes he was elsewhere is increasing the price of the goods left to astronomic levels.
I am still awake.
5:15 am
I attempt to put noise into my head, on comes the radio built into the mobile.
All the programmes I have kept are rotten.
I do not want any at 5 in the morning!
Instead I put on the sound of lapping waves.
These will lure sleep back into my mind.
5:45 am still awake.
The lapping waves have been making me feel seasick so have been swapped for bird song.
6:01 am still wide awake.
What sounds like a bad tempered buzzard forces me onto Radio 3 while I seek gentle tinkling piano music.
Screeching opera woman finds mobile lying on floor!
6:20 am. Still awake.
My mind fills with bad thoughts, depressions, failures, and confusion.
7:16 am I awake tired and weary, groggily searching for the door and heading for breakfast.
I will be like this until my lunchtime nap.
Just on 10 am, washed, coffee'd, and weary, I am sitting watching grey hair being blown across the floor. I suggest that it is actually Blonde, but the barber woman will not accept this. She does accept the two pound coins as a tip on top off the £11 cost however.
Suddenly feeling the air colder I head for a cheap trip round Tesco special offers, this was once again disappointing. Hobbling home the air appears even chillier, though some Spring flowers are appearing in the gardens, this is encouraging.
15:16 pm. Much work to do, cleaning, tidying, hoovering...
Luckily, the neighbour downstairs has come home early, this means I canny hoover, I may as leave the rest also, just in case it disturbs him...
A Supper Party - 1903 Julius LeBlanc Stewart (1855-1919)
A bit of a conflict high above us this morning. These two Magpie's have taken to living amongst the trees. This annoys the Crows who live here. Yesterday two Crows buzzed the Magpie pair and saw them off. Today one Crow was chased off by this fellow and his mate, but the Crow is still hanging around in the trees high up somewhere. Possibly he awaits reinforcements? The Crows from times past would not put up with this, and I suspect more conflict soon. I just wish they would come down lower so I could get a closer picture.
Naturally, I was so engrossed by the birds conflict that I forgot to scribble anything else on here.
Few noticed.
However, Saturdays have little to say other than shops, football, sleep and feeding the face. Nothing out of the ordinary occurs at weekends, unless something personal does.
I met my downstairs neighbour walking the dog, at least the dog was pleased to see me, and little else of note occurred.
Nothing in the news, no accidents, no trauma, just lies from crooked politicians, and mostly made up stories about royalty. What a disgrace the UK media is.
My weariness, and the fear of heavy rain which did not arrive, put me off walking to the Kirk.
Instead I read the chosen verses, Jer 31:31-33 & John 12:20-33. This took me to Jesus telling the disciples, at least those close to him, just how troubled his souls was, to the point of death. Yet he chose to follow his fathers will, for that is why he came. What a moment it seemed to me, here Jesus was faced with the choice of avoiding the cross, yet he would go through with it. Then he says 'If you follow me you must take up your cross.' He gave up so much, lost life, faced Hell for me, us, and he chose to go through with it. What I face is so much easier. So why do I fail?
I am not sure being at church today would be any stronger an interpretation than what this meant to me.
What is this rubbish you ask? Well I have spent time today taking photographs of the phone lines coming into the house, and trying to work out where they go. This because the Landlord must apply to the council for permission for me to have an improved 'Full Fibre' ISP installed. Being a Grade II listed building this is the lawful way. However, this may take 6 weeks to come through! I sit here gnashing my teeth, or what is left of them.
The landlord has decided to enquire of the others if they too seek such a service, and may do something about it, next week perhaps. In the meantime she needs to know who has what, how many things have been installed without permission, obviously by a previous tenant, and what can the council planning people say?
So, in the rain, I fulfilled my duty, leaving my aging jacket stinking and requiring cleaning - some day.
To encourage my good feelings my laptop then started playing up. Going slow, offering things I did not want, not working, and not closing down either!
I vented my spleen and finally got it to switch off by pressing the start button, more regular methods not working. I got it back on, cleaned up/upgraded where I could, and now all appears tolerable.
The first really enjoyable music I can remember is Little Richard! My sister, being 11 year older than me, and my brother, being 10 years older, developed the habit of buying 'Rock 'n Roll' records, almost all '78s.' So we had all the good ones, Elvis, Tommy Steel and the like, and on one occasion, before 1958 when we obtain a 'Ferranti TV' we saw 'Wee Willy Harris' at the Edinburgh Empire Theatre. Willy was famous for his carrot coloured 'DA' style hair, quite something in the dull mid 1950s. I mind him on the stage, red hair, emerald green Edwardian 'Teddy Boy' jacket, and guitar. I loved it!
There was, and I think I may still have, a Little Richard EP. A fabulous device that played not one but four tracks! Wow, that was progress. The arrival of the TV set meant we no longer went to an occasional variety show, though these were killed off by tv anyway, so instead of red haired stars we had 'Wagon Train' and 'Popeye' instead. The noise of rock and roll was good however, whether primary school kids get the same feeling from Tasmin Swift I doubt.
The Beatles were the next major step in my musical education.
When you get to that age, between leaving primary school and beginning secondary, that is when music becomes important. Now some always have music, but for most of us at that time music speaks to 'our generation' in a way it will never do again.
I was lucky. My generation had the 'BBC Home Service,' from and for England, and also the 'BBC Light Programme' which played music. Luck regarding music was considerably less than the luck for the many genuinely funny comedy programmes of that time. Music was of a ballad type, Scots music appeared to be Kenneth McKellar and Moira Anderson alone, which was not good for adolescents discovering the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and seemingly masses of Blues music of one sort or another.
I mind standing at our stair door with a neighbour when one of his mates arrived. He asked if we had heard 'She Loves You,' by the Beatles, which of course we had, usually via Radio Luxemburg rather than the unwilling BBC. This record was really the one in my mind that made the Beatles. Two minor hits had come before this, but here they touched a nerve, something new, exciting and speaking to a generation sick of banal musical offerings on TV and Radio. This was the beginning of the musical revolution we hungered for.
One of the leading lights in the revolution was of course Bob Dylan.
The Beatles released something that was lying in the ether, and Bob, and much of the US music scene brought it out, whatever it was. In Vietnam war raged, a war few comprehended, a war that the US appeared to be losing. Worse, even the middle classes were being asked to send their son there, so opposition grew. Poor whites, Blacks and Indians could go, but not the middle class Americans who did not volunteer surely! The US mental outlook, hardened against the 'Commie threat' since 1947 was not appreciated by all the young during the late 60s. This generation had like us, grown up on winning the war against the Nazis, now the young sought a peaceful life, Vietnam, far away and unknown, especially to Americans, made no sense. 'Stop the War,' 'Get out of Vietnam,' 'Make Love not War,' became the cry in the US, UK and elsewhere. Protests abounded, but the war continued. Politicians and the people never do appear to be on the same side.
The music however, was good. US West Coast music abounded, 'Canned Heat' became a favourite of mine, 'Moody Blues,' 'Chicken Shack,' so many good groups available, though who could afford 6/8d for a single or 36/8d (£1 16 shilling and 8 pence) for an LP? So much music, so little money!
Then one day, when I was 20 or so years of age, a long time ago now, I chanced upon my brothers boxed set of classic records. You know the type of thing, 'Readers Digest Favourites' or some such. I played one of these boring old things and discovered 'Peer Gynt 'Morning Mood,'' and I was won over!
This is not the same recording, I do not know who that was, but it gives an idea of what I heard for the first time. From then on classical music was not the fuddy-duddy boring stuff forced upon us so often, instead it became something to enjoy. Like so many who thought classic music was for snobs I found it enjoyable, at least the nice bits, just as many were to do later with 'Classic FM. Now, I am more inclined to Radio 3 than to anything else.
The wind chilled the bones and the sky remained cloudy.
Today is totally different, it rained all day long!
I spent time yesterday clicking buttons to amend my Plusnet account to 'Full Fibre.'
This, as you know, gives a much better service - they say.
The thing is, we are all losing our landlines soon, this to make the entire country 'digital' and open to interference from China when war is declared. So landlines are removed, leaving those, especially old or disabled folks, in trouble, and the rest of us grabbing these 'special prices' to renew now.
These 'special prices' indicate government pushing and benefits accruing to Plusnet and other ISPs, though how I fail to understand.
One important point is informing the landlord. This I almost took for granted but the reply today reminded me this house is listed 'Grade II.' This will not affect the people in the flats round the back, but as I am on the front of the house care must be taken. Tsk!
So, next week work should begin, but as we are now awaiting a response from the council people we may have to postpone this for as while.
At least they have restored my speeds in the meantime as we wait....
I was very gallus today, I ventured across to the Public Gardens, a place I have not seen for a while. Once I was here early every morning, before the kiddies arrive. It may be I have not entered this place since cold November.
Once, this formed part of the garden on the Courtauld family. Then, as was their family way, they donated this half to the townspeople. Later, the house and the rest of the gardens became the High School. Public gardens were a very Victorian pleasure at the time. This explains the excellent layout, the huge Cedar trees, two in number, which dominate the green space, and the wide variety of trees and shrubs that were planted way back then.
What had been the gardeners cottage, built in the usual Courtauld 'Arts & Crafts' style, red brick with blue designs throughout, is now used as a coffee shop, partly to make money for the gardens, partly for old people to meet.
I avoided this.
The sky was blue, the east wind chilly, and few people were around. Even the kiddie play area was empty, though one or two passed by. Some healthy people even played amateurish tennis for some reason. That is, hitting the ball from one side to the other and going outside the large mesh fence to collect the balls gathering over there.
Under the towering Cedar we find this stone with added brass plate attached. The gardener might have been good at his job, however, he failed to indicate that planting such a tree under the Cedar meant it would not get as much light as required, hence the Oak does not reach as high as it may. It still lives mind, and is well taken care off. I wonder what happened to the old clerk?
The auto-focus on my pretend Leica kept annoying me. No matter which setting I chose it would wait until I was ready then blur the picture. I love technology! Almost by accident I found this wee flower in focus beside me. No idea what they are called, there is a sign somewhere but I could not be bothered looking, but I am once again in wonderment at such fragrant 'Lilies of the Valley,' here today and gone tomorrow, yet designed so well, so colourful, and so attractive. In a short time the gardens will be full of such things.
Of course I passed the war memorial. The wee crosses are lined up well. I knew one name, found I think two others, the other one may be a civilian 'killed by enemy action' elsewhere. In spite of everything people still remember correctly.
A very blurred picture of a 'Dunnock.' This, along with a young 'un and a Wren with tail in the air, were feeding ahead of me. These would not wait while I focused so snapshot at distance it was. Being close to midday most birds were elsewhere today, and I will not be there early when they come down for breakfast.
In Victorian fashion the Courtauld's were not afraid to leave signs indicating what they had done for the town. Indeed, this family gave schools, churches, doctors, houses and even a Hospital to the town. There has been many similar donations to the other towns where they established Mills. All this has been much appreciated.
There is zero chance of any Conservative Cabinet Millionaire doing similar today.
Cutting down an old tree and leaving it in an ordered disordered fashion has produced results. This area allows wildlife, some far too small to be seen, to thrive. I did not seek them out.
The Daffs may be out but the stark branches show that we are not yet fully into Spring. This means my Spring Cleaning may be left awhile, again...
No, like you I did not bother listening to Jeremy Hunt offering a lying budget. They are always lies, and tomorrow the clever people will have torn them apart as always and then we will know how little we have gained. And how much Tory donors have gained. So here is a photo of a Seagull learning how to live on a pension.
This is so true!
The world is full of people who take good books and turn back the corner of the page!
Now this is fine if it is just some run-of-the mill detective story, or some girlie slop, but not if it is a book worth something, like say, one of mine!
I have seen people reading good books and turning down the corner as if this was normal. I see them folding the book like it was a magazine, or leaving it open face down ON THE FLOOR!
What is it with these people?
Have they no mothers?
Apparently today is one of these 'World Book Day' that you have never heard of before. There appears to be such an event daily these days, almost anything can have an 'International or World Day' if you put it up on Twitter.
Excuse me, I am off to write another one.
No, I have not actually written a book, but I have several that are at least a page and a half long failing to come to fruition. I may as well begin another...
There was a council bill that arrived last night. I think this had been put into next door by the idiot postman, anyway he has shoved it through and it arrived with me late on. I keep suggesting they send the idiot postmen elsewhere but he keeps coming back. Anyway three white envelopes from different places all begging!
Today I logged into the council 'Portal.'
This is a new idea designed to make things easier!
It did not.
For a start, some fool forgot to write down his details, or if he did they were not written down where he put them. So, having searched high and low and found only dust I attempted to guess the details.
Wrong!
So, this and that,and again this and that, an email or two later and I was no better off.
Eventually an answer, phone us they said!
Raging!
The whole idea was to make things easier online, so they suggest using the phone!!!
I do not wish to phone. This costs money, my phone crackles too much (and is to be fixed soon) and I wish to do things online. However, I struggled with the council website and found the old way of paying in (no, not by brown envelopes) and completed the job. Thus satisfied I rested.
Tech is brilliant when it works, but it does not always work, the details get lost, and, being an idiot, I get it wrong. I canny imagine what will happen if I fly up to Edinburgh!
The first day of the Battle of the Somme is a day that has gone down into UK military history. On that day the attacking force lost around 57,000 casualties, that is dead, wounded and missing. The largest failure of the UK army in history. Of these close to 19,000 were dead.
This book, which was first published in 1971 is rightly considered a classic of its type. In fact, almost all Great War historians, tour guides and interested parties, can look back at this book as the one that led either to their interest in the war, or enabled a better understanding to arise. Funnily enough, this may include me. I first took an interest in the Great War around the ate 70s/early 80's and found this book in the library, soon after Penguin published it. A classic indeed, full of relevant information regarding the situation that led to the war, the disposition of the UK force, the men in charge, and also with a host of eye witness accounts from those who served. The best way to get into the reality of the war.
No doubt since first published much new information has arisen. Many historians, knowledgeable and ranting, such as myself, have had their say, as time passes opinion differ, yet this book remains a classic in the eyes of almost all.
I re-read it recently, once again watching the men march up full of expectation. The fear of going over the top, the shock and confusion of men falling all around. Hard fighting in an enemy trench, the loss of officers and NCOs to lead, wounds and death all around, and the realisation soon after staring that all had failed.
The attack was well planned, but with communication difficult, rigid plans not amendable, failure of at least one third of shell exploding or having a suitable effect, and failure on the one place where cavalry were required and not sent, all led to what was to be a one day success becoming a five month slog.
I enjoyed again this book. The thoughtful opinions are soberly put, well researched and a classic this book remains. This is the place to begin when researching the Great War.
Sad to say Martin Middlebrook, who also wrote many other similar books, passed away around a month ago. A great loss to Great War history.
Today, March 1st, is the first day of meteorological Spring! Naturally, the rain is teeming down.
Spring is my favourite time of year. Daffodils abound, Bluebells sprout upwards ready to blossom, Blue Tits flit through the trees opposite, and a sense that good things lie ahead fills the air. Sometimes, people even smile!
This of course does not mean we will not have rain or even snow once or twice yet, but it is a time of light mornings, days of chilly sunshine, and as today, days of rain and what the weather people refer to as 'showers!' They did not mention the wind shaking the trees and dislodging the pigeons mind.
Ah Spring, a time when us young men's fancy turns to thoughts of love.
Pah!
I will be too busy with Spring cleaning. Last years that has not been finished...
Ahead of us lies the promise of warmer weather, long bright days, sunshine, shirt sleeves and happiness abounding. I will do my utmost to avoid all that! The days lengthening is always good. I can turn off the lights, blow out the candles, and sit near the window to allow light in. No more switching on the oven to heat the place, they say we will have the hottest summer ever! And the same people tell us their is no global warming. Honesty is not something associated with the UK press.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Atkinson Grimshaw - The Thames Below London Bridge
I have nothing to say, but people say that does not normally stop you saying it!
This I fail to comprehend.
Trying to think of something to say when in strangers company can be difficult. I am not good at small talk, I come from Edinburgh, we only talk big. Some friends I have known were brilliant at small talk, they could talk to anybody about anything without causing embarrassment or warfare, this I find difficult.
It is one thing in Tesco to irritate the young lass by small talk there, it does not go deep, and in the museum in times past I could easily I found, deal with people arriving especially kids. However, in more serious situations I flounder. Not that I have been in any serious situation for some time, nor do I wish to be in one. I am happy hiding away unless I wish fresh air.
Women I say, can talk easily. My mum could not go anywhere without finding someone to gossip with. This was not chattering re the great moments of life, just chattering, and she, and I note many other women, could do this easily. Not talking appeared to be a sin! Just imagine what it was like with three women in our house! How the neighbours coped I know not.
Politicians talk is of course another thing. Until recently a politician would never lie, they just did not speak the truth. Any question put to them would get half an answer, the half they wanted to promote. No lie passed their lips, but neither did they accept or speak the truth. Today, since Boris Johnson, lying bare-faced to the questioner has become the norm. Refusing a straight answer, basic lying and avoiding giving an answer is now Tory policy. Even the Speaker of the House has joined in.
Children can lie, they also know when an adult lies. Kids have a straight forward appreciation of 'right and wrong' you cannot fool them. Maybe we should use them in speaking to MPs?
But as for me I have little to say at any time. In fact, I often sit here and don't even talk to myself.
There are many who wish to do this also. Even scammers do not speak to me. One called to day but when I answered the line went dead. It was an 02039 number, used by scammers claiming to be the HMRC and calling about a tax bill. Click No 1 to reply it would say. However, I did not get that far and so have avoided yet more red tape, though this time fake tape, and someone somewhere in Pakistan will be sad about this. Pity, I had something to say to him...
One of my beautiful and highly intelligent nieces posted on facebook a wee while ago something about life always being one thing or another. Well yes, that's what it is. One day you are up, the next down, nothing runs smoothly for long, this she needed to remember, is how it is.
Life here has been slow, but smooth in a way. Yesterday I was fed by the neighbour, she gave me a roast dinner! I gave them a bottle of wine and that pleased him, I'm not sure how much she got...
A couple of nights ago she knocked on my door with a question regarding the young lass in the other flat. This ended with a promise of a dinner, which she brought up to me, after 6 pm. I had been expecting this at 2 or 3 pm but there you go. I had eaten by the time it arrived and forced this down. It was fabulous! I have eaten little today. This is all well and good. I had been seeking a chance to meet them more.
On the other hand, when my friend decided to die last year she left me money in her will. I expected a few hundred but she gave me a huge sum! Stunned as I am I managed to let it happen. Now I wonder what to do with it? Naturally, this means informing the Council regarding the Housing Benefit, which will now stop. I canny mind if I need to tell the pension people, but I'm sure I must. So, here I am now with a bit in the bank awaiting news of the changes ahead. I will survive, bills will be paid, changes will occur. Easy come, easy go it appears. 1st world problems.
However, my weight, at 15 stone, has increased today by 2 pounds. As there was no need to eat today. I also exercised in an attempt to reduce things more. Crossing to the council office, then around the town to Tesco to save me rising early in the morning, obtaining a couple of needy things and nothing else I hobbled home. What with checking paperwork, online info, printing things, letter writing, and so on, I have filled the day well. Tomorrow I may even do something useful!
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