Monthly Archives: February 2009

I’ve spent a chunk of the day today setting the ‘oldgreypoet.com’ domain pointers to direct visitors here.  ’Propagation’ is in progress and I expect the job to be done by end of business on Monday.  Things may be a little erratic until then.

I’m dropping the old, very expensive webspace.  It’s been an age since I used it properly.  In consequence the old Barbellion pages will disappear, along with my poetry and prose pages, and the mess of photo archives.

Feels good to be free of all that old stuff, though I do of course have paper and disk copies locally.  I’ll be starting a new poetry section here as new poems emerge.  Photos and such will have to wait until I find a good way to store and display them, as good as the blog software that now holds the journal.

Frankly, I’m getting to be too old to fuss about with websites and html and such.

Anyway.

Today has been a rest day.  Graham’s been playing with his computer, and has resisted the urge to get down on hands and knees to continue the project.  He’s at a natural break point with it, and deserves a little respite time.  Here in Wales it’s a big Rugby day, with the Welsh side playing England at the Millenium Stadium in Cardiff.  I’m keeping my head down.  It’s fun being the only Englishman in the village but there are times when discretion is the better part of valour.

I am, of course, only kidding.

I had the strangest dream.  There was this top secret lake of high quality black oil under North Africa.  Enormous, it was, perhaps five thousand miles long, and constantly replenished by great silent ‘water’ falls of slick oil.  I was President Obama’s agent for the security of the lake and it was under attack by…

And then I woke up, swiftly to forget the detail.  I do remember that President Obama was a really nice, understanding guy, though.

So, shaved and showered and off to Swansea for a DIY and provisioning shop.  Graham bought a bloke’s workshop vacuum cleaner for himself, to take the load off of the domestic cylinder model that’s superb but can’t handle concrete dust.

The hall floor is coming along nicely, all the cork laid and looking superb.  And the feel underfoot is so cosy, quiet and comfortable, and clean!

Cork tiling -- all finished

The next phase is to refinish the wood trim, and then redecorate.  Then, sea grass on the steps and on to the upper hall.  The timber doors will need refinishing–they’ve been savagely abused about during the twenty-five to thirty years of their lives and they now stand in need of a bit of TLC.

We’re happy with progress.  Graham is working to the highest standard he knows, and taking the job slow but sure.  This place is going to look like a Conran survival from the 1960′s, I suspect.

Not a not else to report.  I had sausage and egg inna bun for my morning snack while Graham was in the big DIY store, and roquefort and a crispy crunchy baguette for lunch.  It’s Friday.  Fish day for us this evening.

I’ve been sat sitting here for two hours now, waiting for inspiration, happy but idle.

It’s as if my resources went off on a day-trip and have been delayed on their return.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Sometimes when I go hunting for a particular song on Youtube I end up wandering about the site, failing at every turn.  And you know what?  I always seem to end up with the old lady on the pedestrian crossing who attacks a BMW with her hand bag.  Not sure what that says about me.  In self-vindication, I can say that I always laugh.  A lot.

Trouble is, it all takes time and now I’m panting for a glass of wine and a bit of telly.

Quickly, then.  I went to the clinic and they were greatly pleased with me.  I’ve lost 2 kilos in weight and my bloods check out reasonably well.  Cholesterol fine. Liver fine. Glucose… marginal.  I’m to go back for another blood test in four weeks time and will be sent off for a glucose tolerance check to the local hospital if I haven’t got my act together by then.  It was probably a blip, so they say.  Blood pressure still steady and normal.  Lungs fine, and my experience with the pre-Christmas ‘flu/cough is absolutely average.  Thought so.  Not that I’m too happy with that as a diagnosis–I reckon on being better than average.  I have agreed to attempt a weight reduction of three stone by diet and exercise and shall be rewarded with a course of Orlistat to take off another three stone.  That’ll make a total of 84 pounds/38 kilos.  That’ll do me, chances are.  There’s a cute little saying going the rounds that amounts to “I’d like to be thin one more time before I die.”  A deal of truth in that, though I reckon I can do it two or three times.

Home, to find Graham playing with cork tiles and with his new blog.  He seems to be doing fine with both of them and the edges of the tiling are marching steadily around the hall.  I never fail to be amused at the way people think small rooms go faster than big ones.  There’s just as many edges in a small room as in a big one, in round terms, and those in a hallway are generally complicated by doorways and odd architraves.  It’s getting done.

His blog is getting done, too.  He started on Facebook, got into ‘notes’, and then came to realize that blogs might be better.  We’ll see.  If he gets into it, and if he agrees, I’ll put a link to it in my sidebar.  He doesn’t read mine, never has.

And now, on a day with blue skies and a lovely sun who put his hat on and came out to play, I really, really want my wine.

Cheers!

Graham is very impressed with the cork-in-progress.  We decided to go for the heavy-weight high quality tiles and they seem to be going down without problems.  I generally go by the cuss-words per hour measure on these things and, so far, I’ve not heard a single one.  Photo tomorrow, hopefully.

Other things, in catch-up form:

• Cough:  Quiescent.  I go to the doctor tomorrow for the first of my six-monthly clinics and I’ll mention it but, short of a one-week course of a low-impact steroid, I think they’re liable to agree with me that it’s best to let Nature take its course.  I shall do my damnedest to build up my resistance in time for next winter;  this has been the worst one in my remembrance so far as my health and well-being is concerned.
• New moon:  Yes, I think you’re right.  And I could have lifted up my head and howled at the darned malevolent orb yesterday evening.
• Snow:  For us here it was a no-show, and we have had nothing in the way of the  storms they speak of.  Not so far, anyway.  Even the tops of the hills are just about free of the stuff now.
• Electric supply:  Seems to be back to steady-state normal today.  I was fearful last night that we’d have to call an engineer.
• Car service:  By far the best and most satisfactory I’ve ever known.  They checked and adjusted everything that can be checked and adjusted, replaced the fluids, and tightened the whole thing up.  They even washed the outside of the car and vacuumed the interior.  I was delighted, and said so.  It’s C.E.M. Day & Co for anyone in South Wales who is in need of a thoroughly good Ford service.  Driving home the little silver Ford felt tight, and humming with good health, just like new.
• Pessimism factor:  At low ebb — I’m beginning to do fine.
• Optimism factor:  Improving all the time.  I’m confident I shall be through this low phase pretty soon now.
• Being alive:  Feels pretty good.