LockedDownIshKinda

Well here we are, the beginning of another month, not completely sure which one, possibly Octonovdecber. Anywho as we stock pile our loo roll and pasta, try and figure out whether to drink mouthwash or infuse disinfectant, let’s recap on the to-do list.

• Print off business transaction reports – ✅
• Back-up Mac – ✅
• Upgrade OpSys software – general update successful ✅
• Complete Blue Badge renewal – not done ❌
• Purchase tv signal booster + cable – no problems but still might ❌.
• Update website news – ✅
• Finish two cat blankets – ✅
• Make one mouse toy – I made two ✅
• Make one fish toy – I made two or three ✅

I think I might award myself a 🥈 silver medal, I done quite good, all things and apathy taken into account.

One of my too-early-in-the-am cogitations wondered whether I could set up Siri to voice control and thus have access to the hours and hours of accumulated music that’s on my Mac or use Spotify for even more. Using voice control would mean I could shout across the room and not need to be at the desk – wild idea, right? I researched the various technicals, saved a couple of how to pages, noted possible playlists and felt prepared so that after comp was update I could with a flick, swipe and click clear my throat and produce music ….. but I forgot rule #1, anything using words like easy, simply, isn’t. Sadly as my machine (not the upgraded software) predates 2018 voice activated Siri is not possible. Dang, darn and poop.

Back to 1️⃣ (see what I did there, lol). Many moons ago Mac had something called FrontRow, which enabled users to access movies and music on the Mac via a small remote, maybe there is a way to do this using the iPad. More searching, researching and reading to do. I miss music, it is an important feature that I need to reconnect with, for my mental well-being.

I really should factor in one afternoon a week to be at the desk between visits, I enjoy being there, sorting things, creating things, doing those tasks that need the compy. It is all too easy for the apathy to go the easy route and put it off another day or week or more.

Soo, for this coming month, I’m going to dedicate it to communication. Writing emails/messages to people I maybe haven’t been as diligent with keeping in contact with. There isn’t much of note to state, I’m fine, carers are fine, getting grocery delivery slots booked and that’s it. But it’s good to reach out.

Speaking of which there’s an email I need to write to confirm that after eight weeks of chasing I’ve finally had my blood drawn for the tests the Neuro Rehab Consultant wanted.

 

Tim Minchin

It’s not very often that my ear worm chooses a whole artist but recently while lazing in bed or pootling on the iPad I suddenly get the urge to sing “……fuck I love boobs though…..”, maybe it’s just as well I am not out and about in public!

Tim Minchin describes himself as a musician, but this underplays his artistry, his creative skills and his often dark humour. How he analyses the things that make you think, how he dissects and interprets thoughts, ideas, philosophies and puts them into a song that hooks you in linguistically, musically, emotionally and mentally. But what is it about his creations that seem to appeal to me.

Maybe it is his acrobatic linguistics and agility, in songs like Prejudice or his piano whimsy of Rock & Roll Nerd, maybe it is the poignancy of I’ll Take Lonely Tonight or the deep thought of Not Perfect, perhaps it’s the pure risqué amusement of Inflatable You or the musicians amusement of F Sharp, he performs a couple of beat poems which take you on a journey so adroitly, especially Storm. It could be the absurdity that he sees meets with me.

Now I should add a warning here, he uses language some don’t care for and he has opinions that some would not agree with, especially on the controversial topics like religion, creationism. It is not a mocking attitude, more of an “I’ve read and listened but still don’t understand how people wholeheartedly believe ‘this'”.

I enjoy watching his live performances as his expressions and timings add another layer of language, there are few piano players that almost mesmerise me, Jools Holland is another, Tim seems to throw his hands (and sometimes feet) at the keys and they always hit the right notes, the right way at the right time, he cannot sit still as he plays (unless it’s a serious song). He tends to perform barefoot, a throwback to early experimental days where going barefoot helped him feel confident and quelled the stage nerves.

It took me a while to decide which song to link here, I make no apology if you find yourself merrily, absentmindedly singing “…..fuck I like boobs though….”

 

Beyond My Window

The world beyond my window
Is in a bit of a state
With pandemics, plastics and pollution,
Deforestation and nuclear waste.

The world beyond my window
Is in a state of fear
With anger, riots and violence,
Police suited in riot gear.

The world beyond my window
Is sometimes blue and green,
With life and light and untold
Beauty to be seen.

The world beyond my window
Was somewhere to explore,
Rolling on the high seas,
Rocking around a dance floor.

The world beyond my window
Is removed from me,
Years and decades have flown by
While my mind thinks it 1993.

The world beyond my window
Is somewhere I don't pursue,
It's not because of Covid
More nothing I can do.

The world beyond my window
Continues without me,
My ability has passed
To work, drive and spree.

The world beyond my window
Has become out of reach.
My access is now virtual
And that's a dreadful pastiche

 

Newer History

From time to time I surprise myself when some profound statement emerges from my fingertips and such an occurrence took place last week.

A pal had posted about the annoyance she felt at the hypocrisy she sees online, that groups while complaining about history, use history as validation and evidence for their actions. I saw her point and responded

History is history, we should learn from it, all of it, the good, the bad, the ugly, the triumph and the disaster, the compassionate, the whole, it’s ripples and it’s consequences. After all the shouting, breast beating and hash tagging, what will have changed for the better – very little quite possibly and that’s the saddest footnote for history to teach.

Me on Facebook

There is currently a tv advert for Persil which includes the phrase “hashtags can’t plant trees and tweets won’t clean oceans”, making reference to actions speak louder than words. Has social media turned the majority of users into outspoken criticisers, has it given the multitude a venting platform for vitriol, perhaps that’s a subject for another day.

As we move into black history month (it’s October in the UK) I agree with the thought that more perspective is needed regarding how history is taught and what history is taught. History is a subject that will keep growing, look at the past hundred years or so, what parts should be picked out to teach, the speeches of Martin Luther King Jnr alongside the riots and protests of Black Lives Matter; the horrors of the Holocaust and Russian pogroms and the teachings of Mahatma Ghandi; the nursing prowess of Mary Seagrove and the South African apartheid movement. The advances of industry and science and the violence of protests, riots and oppressive regimes. It’s sheer volume means we cannot cover it all.

The recent yelling and vandalism regarding the historical slave trade has highlighted a gaping hole in subjects covered, the actions taken have been destructive rather than constructive. I’m not sure if this programme is available worldwide but the tv series “The House History Built” is excellent, it traces the history of all who lived in one house across centuries.

Nothing is clear cut, everything exists in the grey area.

 

Black & Blue Ornery

Nothing in particular just everything in general has set the black cloud of short tempered, lacking patience, general ‘meh’ness.

The sudden change in weather last week was a stinging slap in the face. We were all still merrily enjoying the comfortably warm summer sun, wearing our thin short sleeved tops and light weight bottoms, and then bam, gale force winds, lashings of rain, temperatures dropped by half. No graceful ease into Autumn.

I can’t have the window and internal doors open so no furry visitor and yes I will admit it, I miss the furrball. He might cover me in white hairs, generously, rigorously massage my thighs, command my lap for two or three hours which means I cannot crochet or mess around on the iPad, but he entertains with his asking for attention, amuses with his snores and sleeping chunter, becomes a topic of conversation with my carers (his charm is doing a number on them too). If, if, if, if, things would be different.

Time to pull up the big girl pants are knuckle down to get some stuff done, so October goals……

• Print off business transaction reports
• Back-up Mac
• Upgrade OpSys software
• Complete Blue Badge renewal
• Purchase tv signal booster + cable
• Update website news
• Finish two cat blankets
• Make one mouse toy
• Make one fish toy

There are a few other things I could add, like chase District Nurses who still haven’t been to draw my blood since I contacted them 2nd September, or the contact Orthotics to see if they will do a new brace without any appointments but that’s a sleeping thingy I shy at poking.

I shall have to concede by Canute approach to the season change and throw another log on the radiator (that translates to turn the heating on). Brrrr, I have a feeling it’s going to feel like a long winter.

 

Tall Ship Chronicles

A FaceBook member of a sailing group posted that the first eight episodes of this series had been released on Amazon Prime. Hmm, might be interesting to watch life aboard another ship, curiosity had me tapping play.

The premise is Andrew Younghusband (a Canadian actor and broadcaster) joins the 3-masted barque Picton Castle as volunteer crew for the 19-month around the world voyage. Along with his film crew of one, they document life on board, their fellow crew and places visited on this sail training expedition. This series covers leaving Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, heading south to the Panama Canal, and across the South Pacific to Vanuatu.

Bearing in mind it was filmed in late 2000 and across 2001 I was prepared for it to feel a bit dated and the clarity of filming not crisp, but I was not prepared for the lack of informative content and blatant lack of continuity in editing. It had an amateurish feel to what was supposed to be a professional production. You would imagine the first episode or two would tell you about the ship, it’s routine, the watch routine, the victualling and feeding the crew, maybe an introduction to some of the equipment, methods of rope handling and knots and what a job title means (Bosun, lead mate, etc). Sadly all that was missing or skimmed over in a throw away comment.

Considering they left snowy Canada in November within minutes the crew were seen clad in t-shirts and shorts. There was no way to perceive the passage of time, not even a little ‘day ?’ type logo in the corner.

By episode three you begin to recognise characters and can see that after a significant number of weeks, personalities within this isolated, confined bubble are gelling, cliquing and romances are developing. People become comfortable with each other, whilst remaining comparative strangers, many not knowing whether their fellow crew member is married or single, their day job, or much about their past, but willingly share clothing, shampoo, hugs and thoughts.

There were also one or two surprise reactions, sailing is not a democracy and cannot be done by committee, there has to be a leader and that leader is always the Captain. Living on a vessel that is moving constantly, through weather that is ever changing, people’s action or inaction can have a dramatic consequence. As learning crew you will get corrected and criticised for things not done ‘the ship’s way’, laziness or apathy along with sassy sarcasm quickly becomes not tolerated. Some people became resentful of being told how to do something they felt they are doing correctly and begrudged what felt like working in a dictatorship, especially when you’ve paid a lot of money to be there. But that’s the nature of the beast.

It was interesting to see how they all pulled together, how actions became instinctive, the perilous become normalised and whether they all realised it or not, they were learning a lot about sailing, the world and getting along with people. It reminded me of my first voyage how the ship became our complete world.

I think I was looking to come away from the eight episodes entertained by things that happened, having learnt about areas of the globe, reminded of some of the sailing language I had forgotten, and intrigued by the characters. It felt like an opportunity missed with how the programme was edited together – still it was heaps better than things like Big Brother and TOWIE.

There is one thing that has left me hanging and will likely never know the answer to, there was a twelve year old onboard (without his parents too), I wonder what life was like for Sloan when he returned home and started high school, and how is life eighteen years on.

There are another eight episodes to complete the series but with no idea when or if Amazon Prime will drop them, I might have to see if YouTube has them.

 

er, again

The joy of iPlayers, across the past five months, every night I have been watching two episodes of the hospital drama, er. All 331 of them, it became a nightly joy, to see the familiar faces.

Ask anyone who was/is a fan and they’ll remember Clooney as Doug Ross yet he left after season three and Julianna Margulies as Carol Hathaway who left end of season six. Both relatively short lived characters across the fifteen seasons. Noah Wyle appeared in the most as John Carter, closely followed by Laura Innes as Carrie Weaver.

There are countless storylines of the core characters that stay with the viewer after the credits have rolled, when the helicopter crashed on Robert ‘Rocket’ Romano, the incredibly moving illness and death of Mark Green, played by Anthony Edwards, the poem recited by Abbie Lockhart (Maura Tierney) when she married Luca Kovac (Goran Visnjic) I Carry Your Heart With Me by EE Cummings. Some of the more amusing scenes, the patient magnetised to the mri scanner because the students forgot to switch gurney, a Jerry the desk clerk and the new interns getting stoned by gifted brownies. Every corner of life seemed to cross the threshold after suffering some impact, it never shied from the hard hitting issues hiv/aids, dnr and assisted suicide, domestic/sexual abuse, the complexities of religion and families.

It felt so ordinary, by which I mean unstated, not falsely acted, and that’s a testament to the writing, the dedication of the actors and the whole crew, and the attention to detail. It did lose its way a little after Michael Crichton died but thankfully pulled it back for the last two/three series.

After so enjoying revisiting this delight, the first night after watching the final episode, I was at a loss what to watch, so ended up watching various things on YouTube and was left deeply unsatisfied.

 

It’s Beginning…..

I can feel it ….. just beneath the surface ….. bubbling and preparing ….. it starts with a chill in the air, followed by a puffy sinus sensation, progresses with socks on feet and long-sleeved tops, outside the skies are clouded and grey and darkness creeps earlier and earlier forcing the curtains to be closed at tea time. The leaves on the trees start to turn golden and threaten to fall and that cloaking sensation of despondency begins to shroud.

The decent into winter blues feels like it is arriving early, and it likely is considering how this year has behaved, along with my continued confinement and circumstances, but really my normal is lockdown, not having the ability to go anywhere (including the loo) without prearrangement with others.

I feel a detachment and displacement, I’m not connected to anything outside my four walls, it’s a side affect of disability. My anecdotes are getting older, less relevant and more historical.

My prime occupation these past couple of weeks has been a cat bed. With my kitchen window open #NotMyCat has been in daily to claim lap rights. He’s even started ignoring my carers, he gives them an evil glare when they walk in, reluctantly moves along the sofa so I can transfer to the wheeled chair. As soon as I’m back on the sofa the lap is reclaimed.

When we had a rainy day, I had #NotMyCat2 claim snoozing rights, whilst depositing puddles of rain on my t-shirt.

Time to get back to the crochet, get the blankets edged and toys made, I’d like to get the box filled by the end of BFF’s November visit.

Sorry I haven’t been more prolific, I’m running out of ways to say what I did today.

 

Knobble-bobble hat

Like most things it started with a throw away line.

Recently we have been having some glorious sun shine weather, which can be pleasant but can also bring other problems. Behind glass that sun is powerful and unrelenting, we all know that sensation of handling a piping hot steering wheel. My carer has a natty little sporty car and the gear stick (stick shift in some lands) is metal, it doesn’t sit in the shade of the dashboard but bakes from the direct sun through the windscreen. Throughout her shifts, even with the window cracked ever so slightly the metal heats up and up to ouch level.

So Friday I googled and found a crochet pattern for a mini coupe and began twiddling the yarn. When she returned for the tea time visit I surprised her with a half done cover and asked her to see if it fit the knob snuggly enough (it did).

By the time she (as she said, excited with anticipation) returned to throw me into bed, the cover was finished with a frilled edge, drawstring base and a Pom-Pom on top.

Her smile was a lovely satisfying reward.

It’s the little things that make the biggest impact.

 

Intelligence Prevails

LOOK WHAT I HAVE IN MY POSSESSION!!!

Not long after my sustaining morning coffee had been supper my phone began churning for my attention. Over-Intelligent Pharmacy Lady was calling to say my high dose vitamin D had arrived and she was all primed to take my card details.

Taking care over my diction I slowly read out the long number, then the relevant details and we both held our breath as the green button was hit. Et Voila! Payment accepted, package in delivery box due out at 1pm.

Shortly after 1pm a lovely lady knocked on my door and left the package on my desk.

For the inquisitive, each tablet is 500 micrograms, I am to take a capsule twice a week for seven weeks. The average recommended daily dose is 10 micrograms and the recommended daily dose for an MD-er is 25 micrograms.