When boredom meets taste buds

I has the munchies, despite gorging on my favourite dinner………. So can someone go get, one, some, all the following, that be great….. 

1. Cheese on toast
2. Chocolate biscuits
3. Cornish pasty
4. KFC 
5. Hazelnuts 
6. Walnuts (thank you Kim, for planting that need)
7. Proper mug of tasty coffee
8. BFF’s left overs (she always has sumptuous tasty morsels)
9. Spag Bol
10. Red beans and rice
11. Jambalaya 
12. Roast pork, with veg and gravy
13. Thin crust pizza
14. Mulligatawny soup and rustic dunky bread 
15. Aero minty bubbles

*sigh*

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January Jaggardness

I don’t like January, it is dark and grey, cold and dank. I don’t leave my dusty hovel, unless there is an absolute cannot be avoided need.  This year it feels like the morbid month began the day after boxing day and still hasn’t progressed past the first week and will drag interminably to its chilled bitter end.  Most January’s I feel like I’m waiting for the sn**, sn**, nope can’t say it, white rain, to fall, settle, freeze, melt, freeze, melt and bugger off.

Today is a typical day, I’ve not even opened the curtains.  Okay, part of that is being lazy, part is because it’s a Sunday and I didn’t begin my attempt at rising until after 12.30 (I was listening to the radio, mostly, but did doze through desert island discs).  By the time I got up-stood, been to the bathroom, then the kitchen to make lunch etc it was gone 1.30 and it would be dark by 3.30/4, hardly worth the muscle strain and ache.

That’s not to say stuff has not gotten done.  I’ve been working on my crochet, occasionally, I’ve grappled with the GDPR requirements on websites (thank you, piggin interfering EU), I’ve reconciled my finances and even remembered to pay the credit card bill.  I’ve got rather successful at playing cards and solved a few puzzles. 

There has been momentary respite, courtesy of my Great Niece and her rendition of ShotGun, Baby Shark, Twinkle Twinkle, Stick, and other pearls of wisdom.  She’s tall for her age and when she trots in wearing her nursery uniform she looks more like five than 3 years 5 months.

My erratic sleep pattern suffers too. I wake feeling more sleepy and weary than when I went to bed. I sit on the sofa feeling too alert to go to bed. If I manage a complete couple of hours unbroken sleep then it’s a rarity. 

Not sure what my next battle plan will be, it’s rather dependant on others and their availability.  Who knows I might even manage to conjure up a white blog or two (steady on).

Tis but the season, and shall pass…..

 

It’s just a Tuesday

I’m not someone who sees the New Year as a fresh beginning, there are those that do and are successful and enthused about the future, their refreshed goals and positive intentions, I wish them well.  New Year traditionally felt like waiting for the clock to strike midnight so I could go to bed.  When I moved out of home it was often the night I was early to bed, sometimes reading a Christmas gift book, or just trying my best to sleep.  Now with portable technology I’m watching something on an app and only the crescendo of fireworks and cacophony of ships horns beyond my window signals the midnight chime, followed later with numerous sirens as the over indulged injure themselves or cause trouble.

This festive season has been intentionally scaled back and quiet because of an off-line family situation that has cast quite the shadow, preoccupying our minds with uncertainty and a side of unknown fear.  Yet it has been pleasant to not be swamped by the stresses of Christmas cheer and so forth.  

While I was googling for an heading image, I was undecided between two, so here’s the other one.

 

Right, let’s shock the fingers and crochet a line or four, maybe conjure up a to-do list of projects for the next month, grapple with organising my usual (not using the word normal, don’t think anything about my world can be described as that).  Happy Tuesday, yes it is only Tuesday.

 

Turn it ….

The blonde senior moments are setting in ……. 

I have night storage heater is in my lounge and bedroom as the primary source of heating. Across the years and through numerous winters I have learnt the techniques of getting the best from this style of heater.  The other day I waddled across the lounge to adjust the settings ready for a cold blast that was due to go through.  As I went to twist the output knob it stopped solid, hmmm, it’s only on number four, I do hope nowt has siezed the works.  I am not very stable when I am on my feet so concluded that maybe it was just a deterioration in my strength and balance which meant this sometimes stiff knob wouldn’t turn. I left it to cogitate awhile. I began to wonder if maybe this 26-year-old heater had finally decided to go on strike and was I looking at trying to replace the whole unit before Christmas and the bad weather.  Oh blimey, trying to find a reputable electrician and supplier, hmmm. 

When I was at my desk comfortably seated in my super duper chair I unlocked the break and wheeled myself to take a good look at the heater knobs and be in a position to use more strength. First of all I applied my eyeballs, and then tutted to myself. There is a little black dot at the end of the bar indicating where it had been turned to, I had been looking at the wrong end, the reason it wouldn’t turn any further is because it was already at full, number 9, and not where I wanted it to be.

Knob turned, heating set, disaster averted.

 

Dark December Days

Dark December days

Leeching life’s lustre 

Morphing melancholic moods

Damp drizzle descends
Languid leaves loam

Freezing frosts form

Dreck drizzle drops

Sleet slams skin

Mental motivation missing

Damp decay deforms

Winds whip wildly

Endless echoes emanate 

December drags deeper

 

Remembrance

As per my tradition, I always watch the Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance and the Remembrance Service at the Cenotaph.  It is important to remember and reflect the sacrifices, trials and hardships of these two most gruesome of wars.  Whilst I am humbled and thankful to all those men and women who chose and still choose our amazing armed forces as a career path, I always specifically think about the hundreds and thousands of people who were conscripted to join the war effort, those who during war time volunteered to join, ordinary people who didn’t have a tantrum of ‘it’s not fair’, who didn’t have the modern day selfish, I’m owed privilege, but with pride, patriotism and sense of duty went to defend their way of life, and our future.

As I watch ‘the old guard’ march past the Cenotaph, I remember the remembrance service I stood at in November 1994.  I cannot tell you where I was, because I was standing at the bow of STS Lord Nelson as Captain John Fisher led us.  My voyage was in its second week, so likely just off the coast of Portugal.  As we sailed the Atlantic Coast with the sun shining around the white clouds, as we crested the rolling waves, my buddy and I trying not to burst into giggles at the thought of a crashing wave washing the foredeck at the bowsprit.  Trying to keep to the tune and timing of “those in peril on the sea” hymn without any accompaniment.  Quite poignant and moving to be so isolated on the vest ocean, yet knowing such services were taking part all over the globe.

 

Call My Boobs

I’ve had one of those ‘craft’ moments, my brain was absolutely no help, all it had to do was remember one simple thing.  Settle back and picture the scene…..

I have a distant relationship with my mobile, often it is in the draw needing to be charged to get the code to log into some secure online account or whatever. I might top it up once a year or eighteen months, you see if people need me they call my landline, email or message me via t’internet. I think I’ve just heard the whole teenage generation faint nthe surprise.

An on-going situation requires me to keep the thing handy.  I had made my coffee, shuffled back to the sofa and sat ready to tackle a to-do or two ….. where’s my phone …..

• Is it hiding under the tv magazine …. No
• Is it caught up with my crochet …. No
• Did it slide off the side table …. No
• Did it slip between the cushions …. No
• Has it fallen into the wool bag beside the table …. No
• Did I leave it on my desk …. No
• Did I leave it by the bed or on the pillow …………..

As I was resigning to having to get up and go look I felt something move.

It was in my bra, it had been snuggled in there all warm for the past few hours since I’d got dressed in the morning.