Monthly Archives: July 2009

They don’t make TV like that anymore

Posted on July 26, 2009 | 14 Comments

Graham and I were talking about DVD box sets yesterday (on the phone).  We seem to have rather a lot of them and he was wondering if there are many more before we run out of prospects.

“Well, there’s always The Waltons,” I quipped.

“My point exactly,” he said. “What kind of lunatic would waste money on that cr*p?”

“Well, there’s me.”

“You don’t count.  You buy CDs of bagpipe music.  And Greek bouzouki.”

“You forgot flamenco guitar and Indian classical music.”

“Well, there you are, then.”

Meantime, I’d been tip-tapping away on Amazon.  ”Oh.  You’re quite safe.  There doesn’t seem to be a Waltons boxed set.”

“Good.”

“Meanie.”

Later in the day I was checking a reference on YouTube and found that there is a Waltons channel, and rather a lot of episodes, in ten minute chunks.  I watched one, just out of curiosity, and found my eyes going all misty on me.  It was like coming home to family.

So, I went on general search, tracked down a source of ‘The Complete Waltons‘, and ordered it.  I shall tell Graham it’s for my birthday.

Later on still, watching the TV news, I came to think that perhaps, in these straitened times, I ought not to waste cash on such trivia.  I could hear my mother:  ”There are children in Africa who’d be grateful for food like that. Eat up your dinner.”  She was right on waste, but a little wobbly on her choice of wise sayings.

Well, yes.  That’s the approach I’ve always taken to waste. But I’m not sure it applies any more.  Cash sitting in the bank provides employment for no-one other than fat bankers.  When I spend it, I’m helping ordinary folks make a living.

So, leaving aside the money I set aside in jugs on the dresser for things like milk bills, I shall continue spending, within sensible limits, when I have the urge.  Bankers get far too much as it is.

Besides.  They don’t make TV like that anymore:

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Busy enjoying the sunshine

Posted on July 25, 2009 | 8 Comments

Looked out of my window this morning, and what did I see?  Sunshine!  Blue sky!  Fluffy white clouds!

“See, Dolly,” I said.  ”You do get what you wish for, sometimes.”

And so we waddled down the stairs into the kitchen, filled with sunshine, and I let her out for her morning deep breath session, followed by a  snack of grass, a feeble go at licking her coat and a deep, deep morning upchuck.

In she stomped, and yowled at me impatiently as if to say:  ”Right, monkey-face, where’s me breakfast?”  I leapt into action immediately, of course.

While she munched I took my fresh-brewed coffee outside for my turn at the fresh air.  A heady combination, that.

When the TV news cycled round its fifteen minute schedule and popped out a weather forecast I came back in to listen carefully.  Seems we’re in for a mostly sunshine-filled weekend and, on Monday, a return to mostly rain.

“We’d better make the most of this, Dolly,” I said.  ”I thought it was too bright to last.”

And it is bright, too.  Not ‘too’ bright of course, and nothing to do with lasting or not.  The atmosphere has been scrubbed clean by days and days of rain and lets all them there actinics through without hindrance. Or let, for that matter.

Which makes me wonder what the ‘let’ in ‘let or hindrance’ might be when it’s at home.

I could look it up, of course, but I’m too busy enjoying the sunshine.

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It can’t go on raining like this

Posted on July 24, 2009 | 7 Comments

Poor Dolly.  Each time she’s opened her eyes and stomped downstairs, asking to be let out, she’s been met at the open door by torrential rain.  There’s been a lot of rain here this past fortnight.

It’s getting to the point where, when there’s a break in the downpour, I go up to wake her and see if she fancies a bit of air.  Sometimes she does.  More often, she opens an eye, yawns widely, and snuggles up tight as tight, determined to ignore the world until it gets its ideas sorted out to her satisfaction.

I’m rather stuck at home with it, too.  There’s no fun tromping around in the rain.  My shoes, while pretty good for most purposes, are no protection at all when the surface water is a couple of centimeters in depth, at least.  And, I’ve no idea how I’ve managed it, but I seem to have lost my big red waterproof anorak, leaving me with a skimpy green thing that’s altogether too tight for me.  Graham will be pleased about the big red anorak–he’s been nagging me for ages to replace it.

It can’t go on raining like this, can it?  Not for too much longer, surely?

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The things you think about

Posted on July 23, 2009 | 11 Comments

I couldn’t say which direction the time-slip takes but it seems to be constant in number–it feels like I’m slipping (backwards or forwards) about three hours a day.  Could be that it’s oscillating between one state and the other, which would be nice.

Not that it feels unpleasant in any way.  It’s rather like living in one of those strange old SF stories where the narrator is caught off to the side of his world and time, acting as an asynchronous observer.  Not quite as old SF as H.G. Wells, more like the products of one of Poul Anderson’s tribe.

Astounding.

Graham was truly pleased to hear that our little silver Ford had passed the MOT test with flying colours.  Not simply because it’s a relatively inexpensive operation, and indicating the unlikelihood of any imminent outlays, but because it means we’ve done everything we can to keep the car in good order, and safe.  Graham doesn’t drive but he has taken my approach to car ownership very much to heart:  ”If you can’t keep your vehicle in good order you ought not to be driving.”

I’ve been giving some thought to that recently. Driving or not driving, that is. Wondering, as you do, just how much longer I’ll be able to drive, and how on earth I shall manage when the time comes to hand in my trusty little buggy.

Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that this is defeatist thinking.  The only way they’re going to get my car off of me is over my cold dead body.  Or however the expression goes.

My car is my independence.  Normal times it operates in the small world I occupy but when I’m feeling good, and have the need, it is there, smug and happy, ready to take me off anywhere, anywhen.

I refuse to slip into the mindset where I’m ready to accept that essential elements of my life may fall away, leaving me cold and drooling, granny-farm material, waiting for my call.

Hey ho.  The things you think about when you’re home alone.

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Meal shifts

Posted on July 22, 2009 | 7 Comments

Several times yesterday the rain stopped and, for a while, the layers of mist and cloud became slightly less monochrome as the sun began to burn through.  And then, as if losing a battle against the gloom, all became grey again and the hills hunkered down under their cloak of Welsh weather.

A general break-through is being spoken of, for the coming weekend, and that may be so.  Rather too far away, seems to me, for comfortable certainty.

When Graham is home, we rather revel in the rain and mist.  It makes us feel safe and cushioned against the harshness of the world.  Not that our world is particularly harsh but the principle is sound.

Today, more gloom, and even more rain.  Dolly got up with me at about 06:00, came down, yowled to be let out, stepped over the threshold and cursed loudly all the way down to the front gate, where she sat, glumpy and immovable, glaring out as if daring anyone or anything to give her an excuse for violence. Then, a gust of wind and a small squall of rain, and she transformed into a poor little pussy cat once more and shot back through the door in a blur of grey hair and outrage.

She shook herself, humphed loudly at my efforts and sympathy, rejected all offers of food and drink, and stomped upstairs to flop on the bed.  She was not pleased with the world today, not at all.  The outrage didn’t last too long though and a little while later when I peeked into the back bedroom she was curled up tight, ignoring us all.

It was the day for the annual road-worthiness test for my little silver Ford so I was off out at 08:10 to be there well in time for our 08:30 appointment.  The guy drove me home to wait in comfort and I was just about to shove my breakfast plate in the washer when they rang to tell me the test was done, all was well, the car had passed with flying colours, and would I like the guy to come and pick me up again.

So, that’s the car’s MOT sorted, and new certificate is attached to the documents and all will be quiet on that subject until the annual road licence is renewed at the end of the month.

I popped over from the garage to the close-by Tesco’s supermarket at Neath Abbey, being in need of bread and fancying something fresh and nice for my lunch.  I picked up a pack of bubble-and-squeak and a couple of slices of ham.  That’ll do me nicely, and may mean I’ll not be wanting dinner this evening.  Or much of a dinner, anyway.

Back, through the floods in Cadoxton, up the hill and along the valley to our safe little house under the pines.  It’s been raining here, too, but the water has all run off in the direction of the sea.  Leastways, I hope it’s finding its way to the sea without bothering anyone in between.  Much as I value our dry location, I’d not want to think that we have it at other folk’s expense.

And so, another day passes.  Dolly has had a very late breakfast, more of an early lunch, really, and I am about to start on my lunch, which is so late as to be more of a high tea.  One day we’ll be back on a sensible routine, Dolly and I, but I rather suspect it’ll not happen until the establishment is complete once more.

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