Today has been a day of bits and piece. From the mundane chore of doing a weekly wash to the AGM of the The Consortium of Therapeutic Communities. The usual start to the day and then a spell in the shed to write letters before I download my meeting papers and start to read in preparation. It’s the usual stuff, agenda, reports from the chair and the treasurer, and a strategic development plan. By the time the meeting is opened I Am up to speed and in my best Zoom T shirt and headset.
Two hours of following the details, doing the standard business and entering into the discussions and then it is over for another year or so. Free of et meeting I sort out my dried washing and get dressed to go the post box to send my letters. Back home I watch some pretty dull German football before reorganising my office bag, and take a call from a friend who has been wrestling with a recalcitrant toilet seat that will not unscrew. Dinner next and then an evening of The Last Kingdom, more slash and burning Danes and Saxons. Finally, the bin goes out, the car comes in and I sit to write the blog before bed.
Well this has been a day, talk about light and shade. So there I was up and breakfasted by 9 o’clock and checking my emails. A colleague had circulated some materials she had designed for a programme that the team are running currently. As part of the materials there was a blog about the Enabling Environment Standard of Structure. My colleague’s cat Tiny has featured before in her blog but today I laughed out loud at the schedule which had been designed by her host. I leave you to judge if Tiny had found a good structure to get through lockdown.
Tiny the cat’s lockdown schedule.
After dealing with my work emails I surfed the net and bought an exercise bike and some bits and pieces. I am determined to shift this weight and if I have a bike then I can get into a routine and train. Having been a gym rat I need something that gets me moving, I am appalled at the way my legs have stiffened up and how I am siting here with a shape that I was, and still am, critical of in others. Right I have made the move and now I have to find somewhere to put it and of course the answer is “the shed”. Sounds simple doesn’t it but what it actually entailed was emptying the shed that had been living under a tarpaulin waiting to be re roofed and re organising the shed so it could accommodate a couple of cane chairs. Simples! Except that it meant I had to re felt the roof and as life is not simple it also meant I had to replace a part of the summer house back wall due to the shed having leaned against it and damaged it. So I emptied out everything from the shed and then had to elbow it over a few inches to get it off the back of the summer house.
So much stuff in such a small shed.
At last the shed is empty
Having done that I need to replace a plan in the back wall of the summer house, I just happen to have some in the garage. So I manage to get the panel screwed into place and then of course it needed to be painted. There I am up on the rickety shed roof trying to paint the new plank and what happens, a thunderstorm is what happens, so I get soaked and have to seek shelter. It passes and I kick on. Once the summer house is sorted I start on the shed roof. Hours of cleaning and reworking the new roof felt and I get it done and I’m tired. But in the middle of this the internet goes down spectacularly.
Roof patching done.
The systems come up with a hacking warning and the hub begins to flash purple. So I start to do the BT thing and try to restart the hub, no joy. My partner then calls me to the front door and there was our telephone line draped across the front garden. Across the road the jolly BT folk are up a pole and all the lines from it are down. So that explains the loss off WiFi. Nothing to be done except get back to my shed fixing.
The cause of my lost WiFi
The tell tale sign that all is not well in BT land
I finally get to the putting everything back in the shed and finding room for the chairs so that the bike (remember the bike?) can go in the summer house. I’m finally done and it’s time to eat, and as I go back to the house my partner gives me the good news that the WiFi is back. Yippee Amazon is my shop again, that was a close shave.
Job done and I’m knackered
So I have had dinner and writing the blog before I have a bath to get rid of the aches that I can feel coming on and then it will be back to slaying Danes and Saxons post Alfred the Great.
Up and at it this morning after of course the weekend negations over bacon sandwiches for breakfast. I checked that the new hanging basket on the shed was still in place. It was and looking good. By which I mean it was still alive and not dropping flowers yet.
I noted that the garden continues to give me new delights such as the small red roses on the tree my eldest daughter gave me one father’s day, and the white peony’s that have bloomed quickly and buckle under the intermittent down pours we are having at the moment.
The twinned trunk oak tree continues to grow from its acorn base and the purple mallow continues to bloom.
But before I can set to on the water butt arrangement that has been over flowing, I think judging by the moss at its base, I go to the garage with my partner to fill the car with petrol and to check the pressures. We had to queue to get a pump which in itself was a trial as some arsehole young male who thought he could just pull had to be faced off. No sense of a queue the ignorant git. My partner filled the car and went to pay while I moved it to the air pump. There was bugger all social distancing going on in the service station shop and my partner emerged disgruntled. We duly did the tyres, 36 front 33 back, guess where the engine is? Then it was back home and time for me to go to the garden and for my partner to take cash to her mother who had run out of cash and had no access to a machine.
The water butt has planters built into it which looks good but were creating an overflow. I took the think apart and cleaned it and then removed the plug of sealant the fitter had put in the end of the drainpipe to force it to use the diversion hose. The arrangement had never worked very well so I decided to have the drain pipe run straight in to the top of the tower butt. Having sorted this I removed the gutter hedgehog and cleaned the guttering and the hedgehog. By hosing the gutters and the roof I was able to check the whole arrangement worked as it should and that the down pipes were al clear. Deep joy it all worked and that included the butt overflow pipe. All that was left was to clear up the area and wait for rain. It conveniently down poured about twenty minutes later when we were all sat on the patio having fruit and oatcakes for lunch. The butt was dripping water but it was from the built-in flower boxes, so they had to come out. They have become water logged and need new liners and a layer of stones to make them viable again. Apart from that everything is tickety boo.
The Tower
The new drain
New drain and hedgehog
Time for a bath and a chance to read a few pages of my latest book, an early birthday present from a friend. It is called Under the Stars by Matt Gaw, and is as far as I have got so far understand it to be a description of how the author rediscovers the night. The pages I read in my bath were lovely and full of delicate adjectives that created a vivid picture of the described experiences. It is a book that I am tempted to devour already but will take my time.
Sunday is Zoom call our youngest daughter time which is what I walked into after my bath. She is furloughed but her boyfriend is going back to work tomorrow. We chatted about how we were and about what is going on in the world. I wonder how many other families are doing the same right now and wondering how it is all going to turn out. So, it comes to dinner time and my partner cooks as I settle down to write the blog. I expect that we shall eat and return to our current Netflix box set binge “The Last Kingdom”. Its basically a Thor versus God slash and burn series based on Alfred the Greats attempt to hold the kingdom of Wessex and build a united England. It passes the time and allows to think about other things like the chick weed that is covering the pond and where I am going to put the exercise bike I intend to buy. The bike is necessary as I can no longer stand myself at this weight and this unfit, I’m better than this and need to get myself sorted. Yoga and ballet are fine but I have been used to going to the gym and burning off at least a 1000 calories three times a week, walking doesn’t do it for me either. I weighed myself today in my ritualistic once a week way, 100.6 kilos. I’ve been around 100 kilos for months now since the chemo and it got to come down for my health’s sake. Best bet for he bike is in the shed with me at eh expense of a couple of old chairs, I think.
Today was all garden, walking and The Last Kingdom, but a late start to the day meant I forgot to take my drugs this morning. I discover this as I go to take my night drugs. I think sometimes I unconsciously forget the drugs in an attempt to pretend I do not have cancer. It is a delusion for I can never walk away from the fact that I have cancer, much in the same way that if I was black I could not walk away from that either. I suppose that holds good for anyone who is different enough to be a target of others disapproval, distaste or pity. The difference is that I do not have a visual identifier, in fact I look well, so I am told. I am tired and going to bed.
At last its Christmas, or at least the time to get round to eating the Christmas cake.
2019 Christmas cake is begun at last.
This is a family debate every year that takes place about how long we are going to preserve the Christmas cake we could not face eating at Christmas due to the plethora of sweet stuff and mountain of dead flesh we have chewed our way through in a very short space of time. I lose count of the number of festive chocolate oranges I get to eat along with a variety of crystallised fruits of strange and bizarre origin. Any about May to June time we wonder whether to eat the Christmas cake or keep it till next Christmas. With this year’s COVID restrictions and the usual culinary fripperies not being available we decide to start on the cake. The cake is always good, as it is more or less solid fruit with more than a hint of brandy but the apricot jam supported icing is a different matter. From the first tentative nibble at the icing I know that I should leave it, but I never do, my sweet tooth takes over and I invariably eat the lot. I shall now crave plain food and fruit for about a week and blame my increase in weight at the Sunday weigh in on the icing. But I am pleased that we have begun the cake as there is no more dilemma as to whether to keep it for another six months or not. This year it is definitely, not!
I’ve had one of those buggering about days really. One of those days when just as I was about to launch into something in earnest I have been diverted. By the time I had checked my e-mails and sorted out what bits of work I needed to do I was ready to go to the shed. As I am about to set off the phone rings and I spend a happy time chatting to a friend, after which the post arrives. All for me and in it a demand to pay import duty on the infamous weights bench that I never owned, never paid for and did not want. I send a firm but fair e-mail to them directing them to the real owners of the goods and cross my fingers that this will be the end of it. It won’t be, I wait for the metaphorical arm wrestle tat is going to go on.
In the post was a long letter from a friend, which I sat down with a coffee and read over twice. It is such a pleasure to get a letter like this and spurs me on to continue to write both letters and blog. I have no doubt that I shall read it again soon and begin to think about a reply soon. Another colleague calls and we chat about our work situation and before I know it, it is lunchtime. The household sits down together and we chat as we eat. Nothing deep or philosophical but we drift into such areas as what colour is a PhD hood on an academic robe from De Montfort University and what colour do Buddhist nuns wear. Of course, we race on Google to find the answers, which are orange and pink. In the surfing I discovered it is possible to buy Buddhist meditation robes in a deep red. I was very tempted but resisted. After lunch Amazon deliver the new external hard drive for my eldest daughters’ laptop so there is the task of setting it up. Turned out to be trickier than expected but eventually I get it going and have to leave it to get on with it. It was during this time that we took the decision to eat Christmas cake. By the time the laptop has backed up my partner has packed up work for the day and she and my eldest daughter go for a walk leaving me to write the blog while I watch the corona virus update show. Today we are expecting Sainsburys to deliver so it will be a case of having dinner, waiting the delivery while watching TV, reading or sitting on the couch wishing I had not eaten all that Christmas cake icing.
Five minutes to go to my first meeting of the day and I am still in bed. No point trying to rush as my body won’t put up with that this early. So I sedately make coffee switch on my machine and make my meeting with seconds to spare. Although there is no work to review that does not stop us comparing notes and feedback for a couple of hours. Once I am meeting free I make breakfast and realise how much we need a Sainsburys delivery. I do some work and before I know it’s time to hold my regular open forum for enabling environments. During this time various high viz clad people wander up the drive and leave packages in the porch including jigsaws and bamboo canes. Once the forum is over I make coffee and settle down to write up the forum notes. Time flies and I am soon watching the COVID daily propaganda programme. The death toll continues to grow, but more slowly and now we are all supposed to get excited about “Track and Trace”. Early days yet but it may get better. I update the Sainsburys order to include essentials like chocolate and stamps and settle down to a tuna past tea. Tonight my partner has her online singing lesson so I shall read, watch TV , write the blog and chat to a friend on the phone. Thursday is really my Friday so I will hope to relax and return to my painting, poems and reading. To sum up today has been a couch potato day of work, although I did manage to bake a loaf in there somewhere.
Occasionally I come across something that makes me think “wow wish I’d done that”. Recently I was part of a forum where a person from the BAME community raised issues about rights in therapeutic communities in prisons, I subject close to my heart. I subsequently saw this posted on LinkedIn and wished I had thought of this question to ask my colleagues.
Well I finally drag my arse out of bed to cook egg sandwiches and coffee to wash my drugs down. Ritual over I checked e-mails and messages, before I get myself off to the shed. I spent ages trying to track down a reference to a piece of work that I have been using in presentations. It’s come to the time that I need the original paper and of course I find that the authors have moved on from the company that they worked for at the time. Finding myself at a dead end I wrote a quick poem and went back to the house to take part in an Open Forum for therapeutic community staff and people interested in them. What evolved in the discussion was people’s responses to the recent death of the black guy in America. It is an unfortunate but painful truth that therapeutic communities in the prison system are not immune from racism. Once we were through the forum I returned to the shed to continue work noting some of the new flowers that have come into bloom.
A letter from Scotland arrived to distract me, which was lovely. Before I knew it I was being asked if I want to feed the ducks in the local park, an opportunity not to be missed. So an unexpected outing with my partner and eldest daughter to hurl old bread at the, ducks, moorhens and coots that could be arsed to swim across the pond. It was fun and I admit I needed the change of environment as I have been feeling flat for a couple of days.
We retuned home to find the album from our civil partnership ceremony had been delivered. Dinner, the great British sewing bee and an inspired internet search of the internet for sewing paraphernalia. Now it’s time to sleep and prepare for my early morning meeting.
A day of broken things, broken sleep, broken hard drive and broken Fitbit. So I spent a lot of time googleing “how to…” videos and all to no avail. So apart from a sketch for a new picture, a short walk to post letters and the joys of refilling my drugs organiser for the week today has been less than joyous. This may not sound good but it does means that I am getting fed up with myself, which means I shall do something different in order to reclaim the sense of meaning. I will see what tomorrow brings.
Its late or at least my body tells me it is late and in need of sleep, so tonight I strain to remember what the day has consisted of. I have showered early to wash the lateness of the previous night from me expecting to go into a meeting at 10am but sun stroke of the host pushed that into the afternoon. Yes I said sunstroke, no, I don’t know either, but it happened in Eastbourne of all places. As a result I spent the morning in the shed writing letters in the comfort of my new office chair. Lunch was delicious bacon rolls and then it was onto a long ZOOM meeting. I will not bore you with the details but by the time it was over I barely had time to make a couple of calls before tea time. That is how my day flew by to this point of post TV and kitchen clearance exhaustion. Of course I have taken my drugs, intermittently WhatsApp’d and done odd chores but it is all a blur. I was going to write to write a brief article arguing that that the LGBT? community should be the LGBT?CC community, the CC being the chemically castrated on the basis that the CC’d have only love and affection to offer in a relationship and under the banner of “love is love” that should admit them to the community, however I realise that this is ill thought out as yet and needs more consideration. There are some obviously tricky bits to the argument such as where do CC’d sex offenders fit in? Told you it was tricky. I doubt I will ever complete the argument, it is probably more an indication of my fatigue than anything else. So good night.
Another day in paradise, well almost except it’s raining, the German football is dire, and its and effort to do anything. Apart from eating good food and not feeling the urge to do anything today has been unremarkable, which for me is a bonus. I just take my drugs and get on with it. There was one highlight and that was when Amazon delivered my new shed chair. I go so fed up with my arse ending up with the slat marks of the folding chair that I had been using that I decided to get myself a decent office chair. As my partner is likely to be using the office for evermore in the “new normal” I thought I needed to make my shed work environment as comfortable as possible. So tomorrow I shall move it into the shed and settle down to work and complete one of my projects.
MY NEW SHED OFFICE CHAIR
The other highlight was an e-letter from an old colleague and friend. It was a lovely letter as it detailed what the person is up to now and how COVID is affecting their household. I was very tempted to sit down at my laptop and to respond. I always think that if I lettered this way I would produce long and detailed letters like the ones I admire in some of the collection of letters that I have, but, and it is a big but, I am addicted to the process of sitting down and writing letters by hand. For me I seem to ramble into more interesting places on paper than I do on screen. I think there is something about the process of siting at a desk with paper and pen and making marks of ink that are never the same and are often not ordered in time. I lose time when I write by hand but not when I write on screen.
Tonight, I shall bath, watch the TV series based on Alfred the Great and get myself ready for tomorrows Enabling Environment team meeting, and of course write the blog.
