<< July 2010
Tuesday, June 29th, 2010
Morris joy
I was going to write more about the weekend, and how it seemed to last for ages (a good thing when you're not far off 50), but I have gained too many good things to write about since; so the mid-life crisis (which I have been having since the age of probably 5) can take a back seat today.
In the day I did a 15kg shop, and a lot of time and effort on the hat throwing thing. My idea is to do it on Yorkshire Day, 1st August. Councillor Hawkesworth rang me today, and there is a fair chance the hats and my show about the history of On Ilkley Moor Ba tat will go ahead.
In the evening I went to Otley at Bev's invitation to see a lot of morris dancing. It is the first time I have seen her in her new team, Wayzgoose. There were 3 other teams, one from Notre Dame Sixth Form College (lovely to see, especially the black lass); Theiving Magpies (black faced with a lovely smiling Geordie called Chris, and a bloke from ZZ Top who beat big sticks together and smoked a rolly for their first dance without touching it or it going out; and Briggate (ladies team who were the best technical dancers I have seen. Wayzgoose hosted the event and did themselves proud.
I was fascinated to watch the different groups, and how they all had some of the same kind of characters in each; though you would have to be a good watcher to see it.
It finished with an ioen dance for anyone. We were told to find a stick and a partner; so I found a short, curly stick behind the wheelie bin, which Bev ripped out of my hand to replace it with a 'proper', but not before Chris had responded to my Does anyone want a spare man?
It was grand. I could not tell my left from right, and us being at the head of two big lines meant when 'we' thought I had to dance up to the top and back everyone else had to follow.
Monday, June 28th, 2010
God catch
I need to record the last few days as they may prove to be an eye of calm, for reason's I may offer later.
Friday I went to the Midland Hotel, Bradford, to get a quote for Pie & Priestley 2010. It would work at a minimum price of £20, with a need to sell at least 20 tickets. I did the first ever of these shows there, and it is a posh venue, but the price is not good, and there was no chance to negotiate (though I am hardly a negotiator).
I then went to Ilkley for more quotes, and to see if I could do a repeat of the Hat Throwing Championship on 1st August, or possibly the day before.
I walked up to White Wells and had to stop and pant less than a dozen times, despite the sun being out, which suggests I am fitter than I was. They are perfectly happy for me to do the event there again, so that is the venue for the hats sorted.
Then went to the Riverside to ask for Priestley. This and White Wells are the only straightforward venues I am trying to deal with.
Part of the gathering storm is my nightmare of plate juggling, with paper plates and soft poles. Almost nothing is easier for having done it before, the friend as broken reed is making things much worse.
After Riverside I met one of the slaggiest cats ever. A long haired puss who rolled over and dribbled on top of a wheelie bin, while I was stroking her,
Saturday
Went to see Baildon Cricket Club play Bankfoot.
First surprise was that there was an entrance fee of £3, though that did include a scorecard cum programme (Bradford & Bingley was free in but the programme was £2).
It is good to watch cricket if your mind is troubled; at least I found this match so. There is enough going on to keep the mind from deep thoughts; but the excitements are of a kind, and spread out enough to avoid feverish feelings (even short-leg putting down the catch that would have made a hat trick made nobody jump up).
Bankfoot were bowled out with the last, or second to last, ball; on 217. After tea they were not getting wickets but keeping the run rate down; then came a set of short but heavy showers. Overs were lost, making Baildon's job more difficult; but an old gent explained that bowling and fielding after rain was often more difficult than batting. I had to miss the last overs, so I missed Baildon winning.
Sunday
Was at Bev's house to see England get well beaten by the Germans. I am glad I saw it with a nice family.
Did some walks and drank the first beer since Friday. Also read out a lot of Wodehouse.
Today
Medically speaking I've been a bit up and down; not helped by a call from my mother saying the Welfare People, ie Social Services, had visited today. I am trying hard not to let the farago get to me, but it is difficult.
Friday, June 25th, 2010
Mountains and vales.
I had a neighbourhood forum meeting yesterday, which did me good; as did the messages of support. At the meeting I raised the issues of Himalayan Balsam, and the fête of Dorset Street. The messages raised my spirits.
While I was skirting depression I am suffering more from disappointment and subsequent lethargy. For the second time this year a concrete offer of help with a show has proved to be as firm as fog, leaving me to do everything; and as I have said a few time recently, I am finding harder to find the energy to produce a show on my own.
One plus point of the moment is that I am reading even more than usual. Especially P G Wodehouse.
Thursday, June 24th, 2010
Falling down the holes
I will be less hung over tomorrow; or rather today by the time I have posted this; by walking home from the Dog and Gun, via the Brown Bull, by way of the illegally (in my opinion) bottom, blocked by steep ramparts, part of Dorset Street. I only fell down a few times, and was hardly hurt at all. I am resolved now (Drunken resolutions are only guaranteed whilst the proclaimer is awake) to go back with the slater's hammer and the massive axe edged hammer (ethanol is denying me the knowledge of the correct name) and cut a gap in the rampart. No notification of closure was ever posted, and I still need to walk that way.
Today (soon to be yesterday, but 23rd June regardless) is St John the Baptist's Eve (as written about on this blog). The night my mother's village in Karelia, Finland, set fire to their fishing boats before their feast day.
I went to watch the sunset and think about the day (rather than watch the Solstice sunset and think of a day following). The local secondary school (with a reputation on a par with North Korea) have a new building which makes watching a sunset difficult, and the clouds were against any view regardless.
In the Brown Bull I got talking to folk I'd talked to before, including the lass who shocked her husband by admitting to me, and the pub, that she had fiddled the meters for the whole estate. In the midst of this a bloke asked me where I was from, and commented on my accent. After a bit I asked him straight Do you want a fight or wot? Which nonplussed him. He asked for support, but the 4 I were stood with all said He's alright!
Just for my own memory I need to remember June talking about dressing up in white to go out, and looking like a panda on account of being breyed, and knowing she'd be breyed again, but the folk as saw her, or the blokes rather, taking strong action because of her publicly displaying her injuries (all of this paragraph is, of course, written as if I am on a Radio 3 talk programme. It was much funnier the way ~I heard it.).
I have just checked me knees, and there is no blood, or rents in my trousers, so I escaped Dorset Street without a visible mark. I did not see any creatures of the night either, but whilst I am up I ain't gonna look fer oles.
Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010
Slipping round the corner
Generally me thinking about my own long term future is a sign of depression, though it may be that thinking about my future makes me depressed.
I have been OK if I have projects to take my mind off what happens after they are finished, but at present nothing I am trying to plan for is raising my enthusiasm. I am not sunk in a slough, but perhaps sitting sit in a chill fog of indifference.
In the last few days I have been doing a lot of catching up with bureaucratic details, and a lot of that has been successful, but in the midst I forgot to view the sunset and sunrise at the Summer Solstice, the first time for over a decade.
Saturday, June 19th, 2010
Cricket with swift villains
I do not think I am drunk, although the numbers would suggest I am wrong. I was sitting in strong sun, and shivering in the cloud cover, and sun always dries things.
The most strenuous thing I did yesterday was put a pie in the oven, and walk 3 paces to the mint in my garden. I also managed 24 hours sleep over 48, but I did need them.
Today I went to watch my first Bradford League cricket game for probably a quarter of a century; and see Mike and Emma to find out what I am to do at their wedding.
I set off to see Bradford & Bingley. I thought I might get an Eldwick bus which goes past the end of the road the ground is on. A Baildon bus came first, but it said Shipley on the front (which is a mile and a steep hill short of Baildon). I asked the driver but he offered no info beyond it was going to Shipley.
Change of drivers at the station. At Shipley the bus went past it's usual turn for the bus station. I went downstairs. Everyone was moaning, the twat at the back (with his young daughter) most of all.
I asked what was going on. The driver was not the best speaker, and the screen did not help; but between me, him, and the old ladies at the front who live in Baildon; could give the announcement that the road to Baildon was closed and the bus would be going straight back to Bradford. It took the old ladies 3 goes to get the fact into the twat's head' and he was still talking moaning bollocks after they did.
Walked through Saltaire, called into Fanny's, but nobody was behind the bar and there was no beer I especially wanted, so carried on.
Walked past Shipley Print, who did my books, over the railway, and into Hirst Wood. I then walked from there towards Bingley along the river, a first.
It's a good walk. The best song thrushes I can remember hearing, and a big beech tree on a bank, blown over recently enough, which had demolished a stone wall and was resting on branches. While I could see almost a full root plate it still had roots in the ground, and it was resting on big branches, and it was in full leaf. I want to go back and photograph it.
The match was against Woodlands. Before the good bits I have to say hand-pulled Tetley bitter was £2.80 a pint, and keg mild was £2.60!. It was very good cricket in a nice ground, and the barmaid was sparky, but even with all that I doubt I will be going back at the price.
I mostly talked to lads from Woodlands, and have some sympathy for them getting hammered. B&B lost 3 wickets on 52 runs, but a fantastic knock of 68 by Chris Thompson, and at least 3 dropped catches gave them 196 for 4. Woodlands were on 44 for 4 after 20 overs when I left, and lost by 60.
There were swifts, swallows and house martins in view, the later flying between the fielders, and I watched one going into its nest on the pavilion on the way out.
During the interval a police car arrive and parked by the river and a WPC got out. I said to the woman near me that I doubted she was going to fish or throw herself in the river. After a short while a youth appeared at the river boundary, at the same time as 4 more coppers started running across the field (They did not run over the wicket).
A bloke messing about with his kids near the boundary joined in the chase, the lad jumped the ground fence and a few tried to follow him, though I guessed correctly that they had a car ready on that street.
I asked 3 of the coppers if they had caught him, and one said they had caught them all.
Wildlife, beer, cricket and chasing villains! A perfect example of an English summer day.
It was really nice to see Mike and Emily afterwards, and to get their cat dribbling. I got their cat purring, and was told I could not wear my DJ, let alone my tails. Folk will be expected to scrub up, but not enough for a man with an untried dinner jacket.
I finished in the Castle talking to Hilary, the only person ever to force a few book out of me.
Thursday, June 17th, 2010
Tyler the sprite
Managed the commute, have signed on, and had beer with Joe as a gentle reintroduction to my place. I now face a shit mountain to shovel to make sure I lose minimum benefits from working the election, but I can do that properly here.
News today means I can take pride in being the cause of massive improvements in my parents' lives, with potentially more to follow; almost none of which would have happened if I had been fit enough to travel on Monday, or had left earlier on Tuesday.
The issue with my parents having their weekly, non-varying, drugs made up by their chemist turns out to be an issue with Lloyds Pharmacy, 9 Tilgate Parade having a monopoly and being too bone idal to do the job they should. The lazy toe-rags have always refused to deliver drugs; well the Care Support worker at the GP's (the other agency mentioned in last blog) has now fixed for Boots to do the job Lloyds refused to do.
I was up soon after five this morning, and came back on Megabus train and coach, which is half way on the tiring scale between the most of all coach and all train.
I will finish the bottle of Cava I bought at Morrison's by the coach drop (a big plus for the service, I can do a massive shop and the taxi home is less than from the train station), and have a 12 hour bed holiday.
Bast part of the trip was on the train from Kings Cross. I sat with a group, with a baby, called Tyler, who was at the stage of making talk like noises, and that was fun.
They were going to Hull, where the dad came from, and me and him were talking about the pubs; especially the Black Boy on the High Street. After a while the friend, who was tired, asked if there were no coloured people in Hull, apart from this boy. It got a good laugh. Thee go down High Stret till yer see a black boy, an yer ask him.
Whilst the mother went to the loo, Tyler got hold of the empty bottle of Sprite dad was drinking, and got a few drops, to his obvious enjoyment. Ma had arrived back and was not happy, on account of the massive sugar and caffeine(?) overdose her contented baby was having. She thought my suggestion of Baby Beer brewed just for babies! might be serious; but had the good grace to admit that her own baby was not actually hyperactive. I did my bit by getting a ticket inspector to find out which toilets had a nappy changing table. It is good to see likeable families, without them the future is bleak indeed.
Tomorrow I have to sort benefits and wage (I finally got one from the election). If manage that before noon I will be in Ilkley to get quotes for my birthday Priestley do (13th Sept.).
Wednesday, June 16th, 2010
Don't hoist up the John B sail!
Intended to do the return part of the commute yesterday (Tuesday) but Monday left me too weak to try.
Today I was packed and ready to go as soon as I had finished dinner. A new, to us, support agency rang just as ma was dishing up; so the plate went in the oven. Just after the call the doorbell rang. It was a nurse coming to assess after I had made my concerns vocal to the nurse who took my dad's blood for test yesterday.
I missed any chance of a cheap enough train today, but was very lucky to be here as she came unannounced. She was here for 90 minutes (about 20 asking questions and the rest filling forms) and did a full assessment of both of them. Because the parents were eating when she arrived I had 10 minutes to explain stuff unhindered by mother, and could explain, and comment, when they were both in the room.
This is, potentially, a massive step forward. The nurse will contact Social Services (who I called as well to reinforce the critical changes) and the GP. She also gave me the form the GP should have done before now to allow nurses to give dad his insulin.
There are matters not resolved, but less urgent than having no way of getting my dad injected if my mother cannot do it.
As for my life. Well, it could get complicated and nasty on account of being away so long, but I cannot imagine anything bad enough to lessen my sense of achievement in what I made happen today. It is perhaps even better that I happened to be here by chance, and gave up some ease to finish the job.
Monday, June 14th, 2010
Work shall set me free
Auntie Klaudia is much better and should be home soon. Leaving aside my families bi-polar way with hope, and the 20 minutes of dialing Finland thanks to telephone numbers written down on scraps of paper with no info, and having to figure out how to dial a mobile at random, it is splendid news, and the lack of news may explain a lot.
I helped mother buy a gas cooker a year or so ago. She had paid for new wiring less than a year before. The delivery and connection men refused to connect because the socket above the cooker was 8 cm too close to the cooker. I had to replace the socket with a blank plate, under time pressure, before they fitted it.
Since then my mother has had been using an extension lead she has jury rigged around 3 sides of the kitchen, with the socket on the window sill next to the sink, to power the ignition. The cooker hood has not worked since the fitting, and there are vast colonies of mould on the colder walls.
Today I replaced the socket, and added a new one at the blank faced cooker power point, to run the ignition.
Took the best part of two hours. I did it slow and steady, double checking, cleaning contacts, and letting the mains powered emergency call people know.
At the end, because of the cooker being in a different place whilst he made tea, and because of the call box beeping every 15 minutes, my father said I don't know what you had to change anything for! He did not know because he never asked, and once I started telling him, without shouting, he collapsed like the French Army. Thus was it ever such.
I then did a heavy shop, mowed the lawn, and cut down a ribes that was growing for the sky.
It was physical enough to be better medicine than the last few days (or maybe the repeat doses did the trick).
Whilst doing all of this I dropped my credit card case, which mother found, and tried to make capital of in terms of control. I did shout; then carried on with what I was doing; then started the odyssey through my mother's random phone numbers.
I think too much, but I usually manage to think that it is worth thinking. Things turned out well by day's end, and it was packed with incident, but maybe I need to find more chances to react well, not think.
Saw Jeremy Paxman's Who do you think you are. Some of his family came from Bradford. Great-grandparents dead of TB, and exhaustion in her case, before his grand-father was 11, and that relative spinning worstead before he was 12. Paxman went to the office where I got the death certificates of those featured in my Anne Firth - Anne Field drama documentary film script (never used) and the local studies library at Bradford.
Sunday, June 13th, 2010
How the camel got his hump
One of my favourite Kipling poems is at the end of the Just so story How the camel got his hump
It starts
THE Camel's hump is an ugly lump
Which well you may see at the Zoo;
But uglier yet is the hump we get
From having too little to do. ...
And suggests:
The cure for this ill is not to sit still,
Or frowst with a book by the fire;
But to take a large hoe and a shovel also,
And dig till you gently perspire; ...
Now have had had a fair amount to do. Today I cooked two meals and cemented a lip on the way to the garage that has been a trip hazard for too long (I used a shaped wire coat hanger to reinforce the cement, but forgot to mix in aggregate. It might still work).
Despite that, and the best weather for a while, I am struggling to do work for myself, or find justification in doing it. I have been living for years on the hope that hard work will give momentum to what I do, especially not having to re-invent the wheel for every show I do; but every one I do is still feeling like I am having to make all four wheels and the wagon every time, and then have to pull it myself.
Saturday, June 12th, 2010
Trooping the cricket
Saturday, earlish doors.
The night has not yet begun. I suspect I will drink more than I have managed thus far.
Watched the Trooping of the colour this morning with the parents. I stopped mother talking all through, and when I talked just a bit dad waved his hand.
Ma talked of horses in war.. Especially her war between Finland and Russia 1939-40 and 1941-44. Both sides used loads of horses.
She told stories from her brother Nicholi (the only one to be killed in that war, and then by the Germans in the last few days of fighting).
From ma's questions it seems Nicholi used a Suomi submachine gun.
He also told that when they were advancing they would pass wounded Russian in agony, and that they would shoot them to save suffering.
More shocking is the tale of passing a Russian soldier with his guts blown out, begging to be shot. He left them for the medics.
I need to do something better with what I hear
After finishing a bottle of vintage cava we had trotters and bought salad.
I called in at Crawley Library to enquire, and offer encouragement to Debbie. I will not be doing a show there for Sussex Day, and I might moan about why another time, but only if I find nowt better to moan about, and I reckon I can find that.
Then Three Bridges Cricket Club to see them get spanked by Horsham; who won by 60 runs, after being bowled out for 158 in 42 overs. Good club with 3 real ales, costing from £2.20 a pint.
Friday, June 11th, 2010
Stretching the wire
Did a lot of odd jobs, the secure refixing of the steel wire that carries the power cable to the garage being the most important. Trouble is when I am busy like this I tend to not think about my other affairs, especially my Bradford businesses.
Thursday, June 10th, 2010
Mahaditon
Mother called the medical authority to complain about dad not having his blood taken for test yesterday.
The nurse came around this morning.
Turns out dad is not due for test until next week, and she never asked for a nurse to come around yesterday give him his insulin injection. The time she claimed to have asked was the last time his blood was tested, when I was in the room making sure 'we' knew the procedure; which is that the request for insulin to be injected has to come via the GP the first time.
It was very fortunate she did come, because I was there to clarify and raise issues about a crock pot of issues. The nurse understood and noted the issues.
The reaction of strangers and providers to my mother is nearly always You're lovely! (two staff at the hospital said it yesterday). My mother is lovely, but that means folk let her off being incomprehensible. Her use of english is poor enough for her to fail the present UK 'Citizen' test, but deeper than that is her total inability to answer any question she does not accept. She decides what the question is, regardless of what the question actually is (like she decides what is happening on tv) then tells a story she wants to tell. For the tv it will have nothing to do with what we are watching; and for questions it is a solo character monologue.
It may sound harsh, and I am using too much of my super ego to complain about the same fault in my mother; but it always has been true; and in many ways her being so 'lovely' makes it harder for her children to cope.
Critically both me and my brother have recognised that the family needs outside help.
I think if everybody, and more especially every official body, reprogrammes with the fact that my mother's answer to any critical question cannot be trusted without other proof, then they may have a fair time as they are.
I know when ma's truth is not the actual truth, but have struggled to find what the real truth is. I tried with what she had done about dad's insulin this morning. I need to risk more anger to make sure I get to the actual truth.
I am using more of my teacher's training with my mother now than every I used it when teaching.
So there is a bit of work to do, but it is not as if I am a shirker.
Wednesday, June 9th, 2010
Ma good
Ma's large intestine is free of cancer, so a dread removed. On the other hand the nurse who was supposed to come and test dad's blood for warfarin yesterday did not come today, and neither did the one that was supposed to come at 17.00 to give him his insulin. This is a major concern.
Tuesday, June 8th, 2010
Shuttlecock
Catch up on official stuff. I called the Benefits Agency. They have made exactly the same mistakes this year as they did the last time I worked for an election. I must make a complaint. My virgin media are shit home connection is still failing at least once a day, every day. O2 seem the best option, with BT second, but opinions welcome.
Another long commute today. The carriage was almost empty. I got a txt from Baildon asking if I was talking at someone yet! I replied that I could not see anyone, so my only view was out of the window, which was like the way I felt about life, grey and passing quickly. Just then, though, a woman from a blocked seat came into the aisle to pick up a dropped paper, smiled, and said something to me.
A few minutes later I was reading a thick leaflet she had about powers of attorney (she had been visiting her aged mother); which was incredibly useful to me; and she then told me tales about her experience as a freelance wardrobe mistress. I remember her name as Linda.
Ma and dad seem ok, ma especially seemed chipper about tomorrow's colonoscopy. Linda, their cleaning lady, rang later however, and told me ma had admitted to being frightened to her, when she had phoned earlier. There are many things they could find tomorrow, and some of them are not good. The worst is the first thing I thought of a month ago.
We will see.
Monday, June 7th, 2010
Winter and summer
My Auntie Klaudia, mother's only surviving sibling, is very ill. I may be visiting Finland soon.
Saturday was intensely hot. Yesterday was dark, cold and wet. Today is drier. I think I am suffering from un-seasonal light disorder, that or general flu like symptoms.
Went to Ilkley on Saturday with Joe to watch a second's game at Ilkley Cricket Club, against Harden. New clubhouse, good beer and very welcoming. It would be an ideal venue, but they have only just opened the clubhouse, and they have not yet provided catering for any event.
Anzir turned up as well, to meet up with us, as he does not have much interest in cricket.
Harden scored over 200, and when me and Joe left, after having a tea, Ilkley were so far behind the required run rate it looked like Harden would get maximum points for a draw and Ilkley minimum (different cricket leagues have different points for different kinds of draws, mostly to encourage teams batting second and chasing an impossible total not to just play safe).
Then to Silsden, where Joe lived for a while, to visit the two boozers that were his neighbours. I got a call with an offer of Baildon, so I left Joe in Keighley, after buying out his share of the Family Day Rover ticket we had bought between us.
On Sunday I did a lot of cooking at my house, and a great deal of combined counselling and creative writing teaching.
Today took a half day sleep holiday.
Friday, June 4th, 2010
virgin media get worse
I self installed a new modem yesterday. Since then I have had at least 7 connection failures. So in the short periods of connection I will be looking for the best deal on broadband so I can leave virgin media are utter, utter, shit.
On other matters my benefits have been stopped, and like last year when I worked as a poll clerk, I found out when I got a letter demanding I pay Council Tax. Nothing at all from the Benefits Agency.
Thursday, June 3rd, 2010
Catching flies up
I would warn of man writing blog whilst carrying alcohol; but if this is your first time that may scare you off the rest which is probably good stuff; if you are regular you should know that, by the fact the spelling will probably be better, up to the point the little I am drinking whilst writing this adds up to enough to make mw tyip lick a twayy,
I also have to say that my Virgin Media are shit connection has been, and is, so bad that I cannot be sure when I will post this.
Yesterday
Lots of pressure points, both home and away. The journey back was the most commuter like yet. I don't think I said anything between thanking my brother for the lift at the station to asking for a fare on the bus in Bradford. That's not correct. The person who served me in the buffet smacked my arm, and I spoke when I had to leave my seat. Still not a lot, and no alcohol in the whole day. Despite all that I did not ever get close to shearing under stress.
Today
Went to the dentist. He now tells me, for the first time (after I asked for an explanation for at least the second time) that my abscess was due to a lack of cleaning. May be true. May be an easy way to get me in every 2 months. I am not happy.
Because I asked though I got to talk to the dental hygiene educator. It was well worth it. I learnt not to rinse after brushing and other, more minor, matters; but the big thing is that she thought my big issues with food trapping and floss shredding were matters for corrective dentistry (not her words). I have started looking at both, and my black tooth (dark monument to NHS dentistry) is the one that is the most trouble. I will be keeping a record.
Had a full three hours of doing nowt with my mouth open. Then thought about how to get the use of my all day First Yorkshire bus ticket (which saved me 80p on the return to Clayton!).
I went to drink in Brighouse, for the first time, I think. I delivered Innscene magazines there many years ago, when my mate Phil had knacked his back and gave me half his wage to get out of the car and actually deliver the mags (I think I got £2 an hour, which was half the minimum wage even then).
The Crown on Lightcliffe Road, Brighouse, was the first, and in some ways the best. Two ales, but loads of talk.
The Red Rooster was like the Corn Dolly. Very good beer, but the regulars were not interested in a stranger talking.
Walk back to Brighouse took me above the canal I have walked so many times, and that was really good to see.
Walked in and out of the Swan, the Bridge, the Black Bull. Settled in the Old Ship and loved it. Best In all the ways the Crown was not. Different kinds of boozers. Local and welcoming, and aiming for real ale'ers and welcoming. The Red Rooster was not unfriendly, but why should they make an effort when they have enough of their own to talk to?
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