Monday, March 18, 2024

To turn a pike

 

Did someone say we're expecting an announcement from Buckingham Palace?

* * * * *

Walking back from exercise class I noticed a poster advertising a talk about local turnpike roads. "That sounds interesting," I muttered to myself before clamping my hand to my mouth.
"For goodness sake, first I get a bad back then I find turnpike roads interesting! Did I get old overnight?"

Then I pulled myself together. "It means you're still interested in things and want to learn. That's good. Means your brain is keeping young. Even if your body isn't."

So, for anyone interested here's what I found out (through google not by going to the talk) about turnpikes.

In the 17th century parliament set up a number of Trusts to build, maintain, and operate toll roads across the country. Originally a turnpike was a framework of pikes that could be turned to allow horses through, but on the toll roads they were simply gates that stopped transport. After the toll was paid the gate was opened. 

The remains of the turnpike at Southend in Mumbles
From British Listed Buildings


An eventful morning

The stroll and ice cream improved my back enormously so I was able to get to exercise class this morning. I was working on the theory that stretching would be good for me, but I determined to take it easy.

That didn't last long obviously. I was soon skipping about as usual but I did go carefully doing the back leg lunge-type things.

Then on my way back to the car I saw a woman pick something off the floor. It was a baby sparrow. It seemed lopsided and was struggling to fly - except straight down. I offered to take it to the vet's on my way home.

We put it very gently into Husband's hat that happened to be in the car and I talked reassuringly to it on the way. So magical were my words that when I got it out in the car park at the vet's it flew away. While I was pleased to see it wasn't badly injured I am left with the concern that it's far away from its mummy now and wonder what its chances of survival are. Silly little bird.

Sunday, March 17, 2024

St Patrick was Welsh

I can't believe I haven't written about this before but it seems not. Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, was born in Wales. (Allegedly but definitely true.)

And to prove it here's a sign:

Banwen is a small village in the Dulais Valley to the north-east of Swansea. Born in the 4th century AD as a teenager he was captured and sold into slavery by Irish marauders. When he finally escaped he returned to Wales and trained as a priest in Llantwit Major, before returning to Ireland as a missionary.

He died in AD 461 on 17th March.

Back in Banwen they have erected a monument to him.



I am not happy

I don't get bad backs. I am fit and healthy. I object to getting a bad back.

Sitting doesn't help so I dragged Husband out for a short walk. It's the first time we've walked anywhere together without a dog for, well, years. It felt odd. Even odder was the number of people we saw out without dogs. "People walk without dogs?" I said.
"Covid," Husband said. "In lockdown people began walking more."

Elder Son has suggested going to Verdi's later. Ice cream is a well-known remedy for bad backs. I will be happy again at least for a while.


That ice cream is from Italy last year. We would have been preparing for another visit had it not been for Husband's ailments. But soon we hope.

Now I'm going to watch a little television with an ice pack. Not as cosy as a hot-water bottle but maybe more useful.


I've had a bad back

And I'm feeling sorry for myself!

It came on yesterday morning and was bad - by my standards - during the day. I was on ibuprofen and a hot water bottle. It's a bit better today so I'm hoping it will pass. For a few months I've had a very occasional tingling in my hip so I assume it's associated with that. A trapped nerve according to Dr Husband.

The pain in my back at least took my mind off the pain of Wales losing to Italy and winning the wooden spoon in the Six Nations Championship. 

* * * * *

Another highly-praised - "brilliant," "best book I've ever read," - novel failed to grab my attention. I did try but gave up and took it back to the library yesterday. And in the library on their Q-buster stand (new books you can only borrow for a week) I spotted The List of Suspicious Things.

Now this is another title that has been all over Twitter. I guess the publishers spent a lot of money on promoting it. Or it really is as amazing as they say. I will let you know when I've read it. 

* * * * *

And to celebrate St. Patrick's Day here are The Dubliners and The Pogues.


Friday, March 15, 2024

Observant? Moi?

I've had this bible ten years. 


Today I noticed it has a cross on the front.

* * * * *

I made Nigel Slater's pork with cashews, lime and mint for dinner tonight.

It didn't look like the picture . . .
but it tasted okay. But not enough to warrant the coughing and struggling for breath resulting from frying the chilli. It was extreme.



Thursday, March 14, 2024

Final post for today (probably)

Greater love hath no blood-phobic woman than she mops up her husband's bleeding ear.

And I only had to lie down once.

Pointless

Just saw something on Boud's blog about a misinterpreted sign and it reminded me of the light that occasionally comes on in the car.

Now what does that say to you?

The fact that it comes on occasionally makes me think I must be doing something wrong, probably to do with not staying in my own lane. But I take care to do that and check I am doing it when the light comes on - which I seem to be.

While I'm in the car I think, "I must look that up," but as soon as I get home I forget about it, so thank you, Boud, for reminding me today.

I went through all the Mini sites; not one refers to an icon like it. They do say, however, that green lights mean something is working as it should. So that's something but not enough.

Husband came into the room at that point and seeing my frustration dug out the manual. 

It seems that it means a road line has been detected. That's all. I assume it changes to red if you go over it. No, that can't be right because you often have to cross lines to do all sorts of things and it's never gone red. Or beeped frantically, and, trust me, Minitoo gets into a panic very easily.

So it's just a pointless icon. 

And talking about pointless: advertising promotions that don't offer an easy link to Amazon are pretty pointless too. See? I really am bad at this stuff.

And again, talking about pointless, Richard Osman used to be co-host on the show. Today an old piece he wrote has resurfaced. It's a love letter to Wales. And very lovely and true it is too.

The realisation that a I is better than I am

Spent some time this morning creating promotion artwork, which sounds grander than it is. On reflection I'm not particularly pleased with the result. Maybe I should get AI to do it instead!

I don't know where authors find the time to keep up with the ongoing promoting. Apart from anything else I worry about boring people. (I mean I worry that I might bore people rather than worrying generally about people who are boring.)

And here's the AI version.
Looks much more fun!


How to breathe and/or get distracted

So I went to Amazon to get to the self-publishing page and I noticed a book by an author I enjoy, Mike Gayle. I read more about it then searched the library database and ordered it.

I was also reminded about the Falco series (I heard bits of an episode on the radio and it sounded fun) and discovered the kindle edition of the first book in the series was only 99p. So I had to buy it.

So much for not getting any more books until I've cracked the back of my To Be Read pile.

But now I'm definitely getting back to self-publishing and WILL NOT ALLOW myself to be distracted any further.

* * * * *

Husband had his ear chopped yesterday afternoon, hopefully getting rid of all remaining cancer cells. He currently looks rather like a cartoon character with his head bandaged and is quite grumpy. (To be fair he is in a lot of pain, and is irritable with me because I said he couldn't loosen the bandage because they did it that tightly for a reason.)

I dropped him at the hospital and went to look for a parking space. It's a big hospital and finding a space is very very difficult. I toured the grounds and found car parks I hadn't known existed - but all full. It's a case of watching for people leaving the hospital and following them in the hope you get to their parking space before someone else does. And with a one-way system in place that's not always easy.

Eventually I was in the right place at the right time, was able to park and go in, by which time Husband was already in with the doctor so I took up residence in the waiting room, where I was reminded of the importance of breathing through your nose.

It's in the 52 Ways to Walk book, and, apparently breathing in through your nose is much better for you and not just because it filters the air before it gets into your lungs. Breathing through your nose increases the production of Nitric Oxide, an antibacterial, antiviral, anticoagulant gas, which widens blood vessels leading to lower blood pressure and all sorts of other things that I don't recall right now. I just know it's good. 

And humming increases the production even more. So be like a bee and hum!

I'm a mouth breather I think, especially when I exert myself so I need to practise - and now I have a vague feeling I have written something along these lines before. Hang on . . . yes, on 8th March 2021 I wrote:

P.S. I have just looked at an article about improving breathing techniques. I am definitely a mouth breather and, apparently nasal breathing is better for you in all sorts of ways. So the article suggests, practise nasal breathing when at the computer, watching television, or reading - being still basically. After that try nasal breathing when exercising over short distances at a time. But sixty-eight years of mouth breathing may be hard to change.

P.P.S. I am practising as I type this.

The P.P.S. still stands only now it's seventy-one years.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Cake and peace, man

There's a young boy in whose life I have been involved in one way or another since he was born. I asked him what he wanted for his birthday. He said, "A cake and a hug."

It's a game controller in case you're wondering why I made a moustachioed man face!

* * * * *

And another utility box, this time from a student area.



When melting chocolate goes wrong

 

I put it in the microwave to melt and popped out to the washing line. When I re-entered the kitchen it was to smoke and a strange smell. 

It was very impressive, like lots of little volcanoes, as it turned to ashes.

* * * * *

For Lent I've been trying to put  'Jesus said' quote up on the Zac's Facebook page every day. I haven't always managed it, just because of life, but when I have I've discovered that, though Jesus said a lot of brilliant things, he rarely said anything about whatever happens to be on my mind that particular day.

So yesterday I was going to write about hope - following the raising and crushing of it in the rugby on Sunday - but he didn't say anything specifically about hope, not in an easy quotable way. Ditto today. I was thinking about motherless children and, again, not a lot about mothers and what there is just makes it complicated. 

When his mother and brothers were outside a house Jesus was teaching in they sent a message in saying they were there. Jesus responded saying, "Who are my mother and brothers?"

A bit harsh! So I had to come up with a positive take on it. There are plenty of quotes about orphans in the Old Testament and the letters but I didn't want to use those. Tomorrow I will find a quote first and then think of something intelligent to say about it. (Or something not stupid. With the 'who is my mother?' quote I was all ready to do an angry mam post. "Who'd he think he is? I went through merry hell having him and this is the thanks I get." And so on. But not all people appreciate my sense of humour.)

Monday, March 11, 2024

The warping of inches

How is it that something that measures 5x8 in one program doesn't measure 5x8 in another? Why, when a program gives you a template to which you stick rigidly, is the final product misaligned?

Yes, I'm back in the self-publishing business. I ordered a proof copy of my book and didn't like the way the cover fitted so have spent the morning fiddling so that it looks perfect . . . until it's put into the publishing bit. Where it's out of place again.

I've done the best I can. I am stopping.

All this self-publishing nonsense fades into nothingness though compared to the good news that Husband went for a scan this morning to check if the cancer in his ear had spread and it's all clear! Yay, yay, and a yeah yay!

Hope is a terrible thing

Do you know, I do more tidying in the hour before the cleaner comes than I do in the rest of the week?

Anyway, International Women's Day, Mother's Day, all passed in a bit of a blur. Had two grandsons for a sleepover on Saturday night. All well-behaved and good fun. I don't think I even completed two rounds of the board on Junior Monopoly before being bankrupted. I'll never be an entrepreneur.

Mother's Day breakfast consisted of a hazelnut and chocolate croissant and a share of an ordinary croissant. Lunch was delicious chocolate biscuits (present from Elder Son and family, see below), and dinner was curry and cake at Elder Son's house. I know how to live. 

All good apart from the afternoon's rugby interlude. I expected France to beat Wales so that would have been okay, but two-thirds of the way through and Wales were winning, thus raising my hopes. Sadly soon to be quashed.

So four games played and four games lost in this championship. Unless Wales beat Italy in the final game next week we'll get the wooden spoon. But, as everyone says, we're rebuilding, it's a young team, and they've definitely shown promise for the future.

It looks like another busy week ahead. I vaguely recall sometime over the weekend determining to be more . . . something. Focused, dynamic, on the ball. We shall see.

In other news Oppenheimer has won loads of Oscars, and several major news agencies have 'killed' a photo of Princess Catherine and her children, alleging it has been photoshopped. Like many people with an ambivalence towards the Royal Family I've been drawn into the wormhole of conspiracy. It's amazing the ideas people come up with.

Flowers from Elder Son and family

The tin containing the biscuits - so beautiful I will have to keep it but very thin so not sure what for!




Saturday, March 09, 2024

As old as the hills or at least the valleys

With our weekly food order put away this morning and the risk of being knocked unconscious by a precariously-balanced bag of flour on the top shelf growing ever greater I decided it was time to sort out the pantry.

Now I am convinced it is not that long ago that I last did it. Dates on packets tell me otherwise.

I thought the packet of mustard seeds* with a best before date of 2013 was going to take the Oldest Thing In Pantry (Barring Liz) award but no.

Saffron from 2010 wins by a wide margin.

Especially frustrating as saffron is so expensive.

I have resolved** to not buy things on impulse, to check whether I already have stuff before buying it (do I really three jars of ground ginger or cinnamon?), and to not buy stuff that I know I'm only going to need a tiny bit of but will keep the rest, just in case, for ever. Or until I come to clear out the pantry again.

I love my pantry, and having a large food store space is wonderful but it's too easy to forget about items hidden away in the corner.

* I think I may have inherited the mustard seeds from Younger Son when he moved to Italy.

** How long do you think I will stick to my resolve?