Old, Me, Who's Told You That!

    We went to see friends recently. Paulette fixed their 'smart' television, which was set up all wrong then she corrected the computer. Evidently it wasn't talking to the printer, whatever that means. My wife is very good with these things; no training but very good indeed. I'm quite envious but quite proud on the quiet. I can use a remote for 'on and off', change channels (I often muck that up) and that's my lot. Smart televisions, I think they mean 'smart-arsed'! And it set me thinking how technology has come on, and, probably more important, how fast it moves on. How the hell do they expect us old codgers to cope.

    I remember my old granny when she first had a television all those years ago. Up would come 'Normal Service will be resumed as soon as possible.' Off she would trot to next door to ask them if it was on their television too! One channel, only on for so many hours a day, black and white; as Mary Hopkins used to sing, 'Those were the days, my friend.'

    We used to go scrumping; no problem usually, except the owner might have a dog. No real problem, most of them were daft enough to like the odd bones we 'secreted on our persons'. More scary if an orchard had geese loose. I've had a less than friendly 'peck' on the back of my leg and it doesn't half come keen! But nowadays CCTV's rule the world. Have you never wondered how many times a day you are 'on camera'. Not sure if our anonymous existence wasn't better.

    Keeping up to date with the incredible pace of things today is nigh on impossible for us geriatrics. I understand emails, just, but always do them wrong without 'the wife' being present. Twitter, can't cope with it; and I never did understand hash-tags. Face-Book, not for me, looks far too difficult. Am I giving up too easily. Social life without all the technical paraphernalia, seemingly impossible. Believe it or not, I don't have a mobile phone. How many of you, including 'senior citizens' dare admit they could not envisage ' life without their mobiles'! Am I missing one of the  essentials of modern technology?

    I think most people are afraid of 'losing it'. More important, many imagine they HAVE lost it on occasion. Do you check whether you have locked the door more than once. How many of you 'lose' your mobile phone and have to use another phone to locate their 'lost' mobile? Amusing provided its not you, but a long way from dementia I suspect. I've done daft things all my life. I once went to town on my bike and came home on the bus; plus I regularly used to leave my football boots on the bus into school. Childhood aberrations admitted. But I've got no better with age. On a family 'do' I used the urinal in the toilet. Posh pub, notices ordering you to 'Now wash your hands'. Only when I used the 'blower' to dry hands I was less than impressed. I cursed it as being a letdown in a 'posh' pub until  I realised the error of my ways. Peering closely at the 'dryer' (I had left my glasses in the bar) I read 'Contraceptives, All colours, three for five pounds'.                            

    Am I a dinosaur; is there no hope! Are you all 'with it' individuals who embrace  modern life with all its challenges! What aspects of life do YOU find most challenging. Is it only me that is sent a might bit 'doolally'  by it all!

Boo Hoo.

    We've got over it, that game of football I wrote about last time. (Derby County v QPR). 'We wuz robbed' is what all supporters say when they lose and this time it's true. (And no, we haven't really got over it.) Irrespective of the financial importance of the result to Derby (around £160 million over several years), non football supporters I'm sure would be amazed how important it all is to so many people. Over forty thousand people travelled to Wembley to see Derby County,' their team'. Now that's a lot of people. I have never experienced so much collective gloom in all of my life. And it's this collective feeling, this joint 'togetherness' I'd like to explore.

    As I mentioned last time, we have many emotional experiences in life, some highs, some lows. But seldom involving so many people all at the same time. I know of no other experience (losing this football match) that has affected my whole existence, my whole well being to such a depth. And I'm seventy four years of age, for goodness sake! England in the World Cup in Brazil, I'm interested, but not particularly concerned either way. Nothing has affected me so deeply and for so long as the result of Derby County's demise. Now why is that so, I wonder.

    There are several factors involved here when you think about it.We need an identity, a sense of belonging. Something to show 'who we are'. An old lady I know who lives in North Derbyshire comes originally from Yorkshire. She flies in her small garden a ruddy great Yorkshire flag. Everyone in the village has an opinion regarding her actions but she doesn't care. Her flag signifies' who she is'.

    There's no doubt coming from certain parts of the country, never mind the world affects the way we live, think, behave. Essex, for instance has gained an image in post war Britain that is brash in the extreme. You have only to watch 'The Only Way is Essex' on television to gain an opinion, however accurate of Essex people and Essex life. All hair extensions and fake tans apparently. (TOWIE is a reality show; a caricature of 'real life, perhaps!)  Yorkshire is the BIGGEST county and often it shows, Yorkshire 'expats' so often feeling they have to show they're the 'biggest and the best'. (Not all of course but enough!) Little old Derbyshire seemingly has no 'identity' of note. Many people I've met on my motor home travels couldn't place Derbyshire on a map however hard they tried. The Derbyshire motto, by the way is 'Derbyshire born, Derbyshire bred. Strong in the arm, weak in the head.'!

    There's no doubt this identity thingumajig is important to a lot of people. Manchester United are followed by thousands of people; many attend their matches weekly; many more follow their progress and support 'their' team without ever attending a live match. How many children over the years have adopted Manchester United as 'their' team, seduced by the glamour of the Bobby Charlton's and George Bests.

    There's not always much to recommend living in Derby, or Nottingham for that matter and standing by a machine all day to earn the proverbial 'crust'. (Times are changing but many still lead hum-drum lives, many haven't even got the satisfaction of a job, however mundane.) Small wonder their local football team, often a traditional thing, is followed with passion and blinkered fervour, come rain or shine. To many it is the event of the week. (The cry often at Derby County matches is 'It you hate Forest, stand up'. Surely the word HATE is a misnomer; or is it?) So to many this football malarky is a traditional think. Forty thousand individuals converging on London to support a football team is impressive. Plus thousands more watching Derby on televisions around Derby itself is awesome. I have never experienced such gloom after the match in Derby. I watched with friends and the gloom was indescribable. And a thought occurred to me. Is the 'collective thing' the important thing here. Is it 'catching'; are we all victims of 'mass hysteria on a grand scale?

    I remember a year or two ago a young marching band performing, Mansfield way if I remember right. It was a sunny summer's day. One or two children began to suffer from the heat. And a trickle became a flood. More and more children succumbed to the heat. Afterwards the suggestion was that the children were victims of mass hysteria, auto suggestion if you like. Derby County supporters, myself included are victims too, I wouldn't wonder! Victims of collective doom and gloom on an epic scale.

    We humans are the ultimate animal. We have feelings and emotions. Dogs and cats cannot appreciate a cracking penalty save or a Beckhamesque pass all of forty yards. (Neither are they daft enough to sit in the freezing cold on a Saturday in January watching a soccer match. You don't sit in the garden in January. So why sit outside at a football match. Who's the clever one now!

    A final thought, courtesy of a friend. This lady suggests we all have a 'spiritual side' to our nature. What is happening, she suggests, is the spiritual side of many is channelled, not towards religion, but towards another outlet; in Derby football supporters case, Derby County. Makes sense, what was it the famous Bill Shankly once said, 'Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much more important than that.

    What is your 'drug', greatest passion in life? Do tell! Now I'm going for a lie down. All this thinking is making me quite tired!

An Important Day for so Many.

    I am writing this post on Friday afternoon. Deliberately so before the big event, My mood tomorrow evening could be ecstatic, or perhaps suicidally depressed. Thirty seven thousand people are travelling from Derby to attend. Now that's a lot of people. And the big event? A religious gathering, in a way, yes. Derby County play Queens Park Rangers at Wembley in the Play Off final. The prize, a place in the Premier League of British Football. Said to be worth around £160 million pounds to the winners over five years.

    Now I don't expect everyone to love football. The same as I am not so keen on golf and golfers but I don't 'go on' about it. Not too often, anyway! But what gets 'right up my nose' are those people who rant and rave about football being 'oh so bad for us all'  yet never go themselves. Armchair experts, they drive me quite mad. We true supporters KNOW that too often we're watching overpaid prima donna's; and the clubs are often owned by filthy rich foreigners who know little about footballers but that's the world we live in. We, Derby County supporters have had an exciting season and witnessed some magical football. Nothing can that away from us. It won't be the end of the world tomorrow if we lose, but it might as well be!

    All this excitement in Derby, often dreary old Derby made me think. How many events in our little lives are truly exceptional. Perhaps when we were children life was full of wondrous experiences. Experiences LIVED, real, not viewed second hand via a fifty-five inch screen.

    I have lived over seventy years, so what are the events happenings that I remember most. VE Day,

people happy and relaxed, many swigging from tankards as they walked the village streets. The Coronation, in 1953, trestle tables laid out with food, glorious food. School trips, including one where  we saw, Little Johns grave. Plus a week at Mundesly where we slept on straw filled sacks in ex-army tents. Carefree days, all real, all experienced in childhood.

    Adult experiences seem less carefree, inevitable I suppose. Marriage is not to be taken lightly; the day remembered, the feelings experienced I cannot recall. The birth of children induces anxiety, and ecstatic joy. Death appears mores in the adult world; I remember death from childhood, though infrequently; or is this the mind playing tricks. Undoubtedly adulthood is a more serious business. 

So, when thirty thousand plus descend on London, all thought of adulthood flies out the window, be it train, coach or car.

     I won't be at We

mbley. So I shall miss that incredible heart stopping experience. (Neither of us, sadly, are fit enough to take part in the ultimate footballing experience.) But we know will enjoy the day with friends. For once hurrah for a fifty five inch screen! I view the next twenty six hours with  trepidation, but also hope. I don't expect everyone to understand.

Have You Made Your Mark?

    Having done over four hundred blogs I have spells where new subjects prove difficult. Then, like buses, two come along together.dx

     I came across a photograph recently. It was in a box with others that belonged to Ida, mey aunt who died some time ago. Now most families 'inherit' boxes of belongings from deceased relations, close or otherwise; most common being photographs; car boots are full of them, discarded with little feeling. In Ida's box, photos of people long gone, and of trips made in Ida's time at least to 'not so far away places'. Family photos, nostalgic, unexceptional and unimportant. Friends through the ages, part of Ida's life, from the proverbial 'cradle to the grave'.

    I glanced through the collection, interested, but only up to a point. For, sadly we tend to be more interested in ourselves. Life moves on, taking us with it at an ever increasing pace.

    One photo intrigued me more than the rest. It took me a while to realise why. In every single photo I could recognise a 'connection', however tenuous; close family, distant family, friends ancient and modern; always a connection. But in one photo only, NOTHING. I do not recognise either person. No clue as to where, why or when. No writing on the back of the photo, nothing; a mystery indeed.

    A bride and groom; or is it 'father' and the bride. (My wife maintains people in old photos always look older than they are!) A wedding and a wedding day, surely. Taken in the 1920's? And that's about it. Presumable now deceased. Are there children or grandchildren around now; nearby or far away? Lost forever; to me and mine; never in fact 'found'. I wonder if they found happiness in their lives. Funny things, photos. Proof that we existed. Millions and millions of us. All passing through, so to speak. (Some cultures are not so keen on photos, 'a photo steals the soul' and all that.) The photo in mind is proof that this couple existed. And now they are gone. A simple truth, in the great 'history of the world'; how odd, how sad.  

Do you relate to all this. Is your life organised, complete, totally in order. Or does your life, like mine contain missing links. Will people know of your existence in a hundred years hence. Perhaps more important, do you care!

    Probably because I'm thinking of too many daft things and not looking what I'm doing I fell down! In the kitchen. After I'd been to the pub and no, I wasn't drunk! I'm very unstable still after my operation; plus the wrong footwear; old age and senility, whatever, in the blink of an eye I was on the floor, shaken, not stirred so to speak. I try to be positive in life ; in this case scenario, I realised nothing appeared seriously damaged, apart from my pride. My wife was alarmed, naturally I suppose. 'Cat' surveyed me with interest. He licked my face and fingers then decided to sit, obviously comfortably on my chest. (Fact, this cat NEVER sits merely on the floor, he sits on ANYTHING that is not mere floor. His history is unknown; where has he learnt this habit, I wonder.) 

    It's special, in a way lying on a floor. You can actually see where the draught you feel so often in the lounge comes from; under the kitchen door. You can see under the radiator: bits of toast, plenty of fluff, a dirty knife, fork and a a spoon; disgusting! All very interesting but not a patch on television. Plus I was on my way to the toilet. And at my age, when you've got to go, you've got to go!

   Now I can't get myself to the 'perpendicular' once I'm on the floor. And although I'm not particularly big my wife has no chance of lifting me. Could be awkward. Being incapacitated at times is chronically difficult. I do appreciate, though not enough the difficulties those living on their own

on a daily basis experience. I'm lucky, I live at number 29, Gurney Avenue. My six foot son-in-law Simon and family live at number 24! A quick phone call and within the blink of an eye Simon is gently hauling me to my feet. So here's to the next time. Life goes on; we make our mark in more ways than one. What will you be remembered for?

  

All Things Bright and Beautiful.

    A lady who wished only to be known as Anne made headline news in the British press recently.Whilst not in the best of health, aged eighty nine, Anne announced she was tired of life and shocked many by applying to  the Dignitas clinic for help in the assisted suicide scheme they offer in Switzerland. (Not legal in the United Kingdom.) She suggested the pace of modern living in a fast, computerised world was too much for her. Many were shocked that she did so in spite of the fact that she was not terminally ill. The assumption being that Dignitas would help only the terminally ill. If I have got it right, they in fact require you to be 'of sound mind' and not solely terminally ill before they would consider someone for assisted suicide. Anne followed all the necessary procedures and in fact died, with Dignitas's help on the 27th March.

    A sad story indeed. Death is the only inevitability in life; the great equaliser if you like. A fact I find perversely satisfying. Something even the obscenely rich cannot avoid, though they no doubt would if they could! But back to the dilemma facing many whose end beckons; whose health is not good; whose existence is seemingly pointless and less than pain free. At what point in life could it be right to think in terms of 'enough is enough'.

    I have no wish to upset those who believe life is not ours to take. Plus I realise ones 'religious beliefs' make any discussion about mortality a minefield of a subject! My interest in such matters is far less intense; I'm not a theologian; neither have I Einstein's intellect, or have you already guessed! Rather my angle is, ' What do you enjoy most about living; and what sort of things might make you feel like calling it a day! You could almost have two columns, good and bad, for and against. Presumably when the negative overtakes the positive, that's the time to think about it.

Family, friends, gardens, nature; sunny days in Skegness; in fact sunny days anywhere. Fish and chips and pork scratchings; the innocence of little children and the sheer wisdom of clever old men. The intimacy afforded by forty four years of marriage. Young love once, old love now, but love all the same. There are so, so many things to live for.                        

    I am reminded of a poem by Rupert Brooke that I used periodically in my teaching career all those years ago. (Taken from 'The Great Lover')

These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, fairy dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to
touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such-
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns....
Dear names,
And thousand others throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing:
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mold;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; -
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour...........

    One other thought. I am reminded whilst writing this post of a song recorded by many artists over the years. This particular version is by Jane Birkin. I could have titled this post 'Food for Thought'. How strange is the human mind and mine is no exception!

Doesn't Time Fly When You're Enjoying Yourself.

    It's six years today since I first did a blog. (Put this way it reminds me of a child having it's first 'potty poo!) I'm not sure how or why I started. Six years, a fair old part of anyone's life. Even more so when you're on the 'ancient' side. Yet its something of a blur.

    Six years ago since we had a black President in the USA. Changing times, the beginning, if I remember right, of a bleak period, in Britain and the rest of the world. Talk of slumps, recession. A long, long period of Europe in general 'going under', Spain, Greece, Portugal etc struggling to survive. The longest period of gloom and doom I can ever remember. But did it REALLY affect me and my family I wonder. Well, there's six years of blog posts to gauge the personal side of life in this time.

    Undoubtedly, we revolve around ourselves, our immediate family and home.Few in Finland, India, Angola or Japan, for instance (place I have comments on my blog) will have too much interest in dear old Britain and its problems. But I bet their own lives revolve round family; the joys and headache of bring up children. Beginnings and ends; the young and the old. So the death of Franscoise, beloved mother and grandmother was more important to us than mere recessions. Likewise a birth, in our case Ted, gives joy and hope; a feeling of natural continuity in an ever changing world.

    I often wonder why I blog. (As do, no doubt some of my 'readers'.) Its an ego trip in a way. But more important to me personally, is the discipline of deliberately writing, thinking, doing. (Note how the last two weeks have been the longest 'none post' period in the last six years.) Physically, and mentally at times life is not easy. Oh to be young again! But life goes on and so does Old Grumpy and his blog!

    In six years many bloggers have come and gone. Some have sadly died; I can think of many more who, for reasons of their own no longer blog; inevitable in this turbulent, ever changing world. In my early blogging days there were many who helped and encouraged me. ( In six years I have only had one rude comment. A brilliant indication that the blogging fraternity at large consists of friendly, outgoing individuals)

    So onward, ever onward. Hopefully there will be one or two more posts yet. (No targets, but I am surprised to find I have done over four hundred posts in the last six years!) Now I fancy a go at a YouTube blog. Any experts out there? Plus any printable suggestions what to do with over four hundred posts!

WEDNESDAY, 16 APRIL 2008

In the beginning

Hooray we're away. Watch this space. As the old man used to say, 'softly, softly, catchee monkey.' A saying incidentally that one of my daughters finds incredibly naff. After several attempts this blog is finally off the ground, courtesy of a good friend, Chris who has the most incredible knowledge of how computers work. Thanks Chris, I feel as if I've now fully entered the 21st century. So 'What's it all about, Alfie?'

I suppose firstly, in a way it's an ego trip, hopefully allowed at my age. Secondly having had various health problems, nothing new at my age, I need to keep what's left of the old brain going. Thirdly, I write regularly, make little out of it but need an audience (the old ego trip again). So off we go and let's see what develops. But firstly, after all the excitement I need a lie down!

NOT Just Another Day.

Saturday March 1st, 2014, one day in the life of Grumpy Old Ken!

    Woken around 6am by Cat, Mo or Crackers; take your pick! We, my wife and I stay in bed for much, much longer! We were married over forty years ago, but I'm in love with my wife as if we were married yesterday!

    Breakfast consists of cereals,  a cup of tea and later two boiled eggs; food much later (early evening) consists of macaroni cheese and the odd biscuit or two.

I study the television, mainly for the news. I study too my IPad throughout the day, again including the news! I read The Times for, guess what, the news!

    The day is sunny and bright, very enticing for March. So much so that we drive to Formark Reservoir, a local beauty spot a handful of miles away. We buy chips and cups of tea and sit outside. We are jointed by an elderly male hiker. We converse; it is a pleasant interlude but too cold to endure for more than ten minutes. We return to the car and listen to the Burnley versus Derby County football match on the local radio. (Both my wife and I have season tickets at Derby County.) Unfortunately Derby County lose, inducing an air of depression, though not for too long.

    We return home and light the wood burner. Television dominates the rest of the evening. Saturday night programmes are, in our eyes at least, unexceptional so we 'catch up' on programmes missed over preceding weeks, plus some more football!  This time we 'watch' rather than ''listen'. And thence to bed around 1130pm.

    Many of us tend to live our lives on 'automatic pilot.' It is good to pause and take stock occasionally. So what have I personally learnt from this 'unexceptional day'?

    One, knee surgery on my knee dating back to May last year has not gone well. Thus my life is dominated at present by my 'new' knee. Very painful, very limiting; But there are so many in this
 world in a far worse position than myself. Two, I never fully realised how dependent I am on my good wife. Who made the fire, who fetched the paper, who boiled the eggs!  (I never was very domesticated, but partly, but only partly due to my 'disability I doubt I could 'exist' without the 'saintly' Paulette!)  Three, talking of existing, I doubt I could exist without my iPad and computer. At seventy plus years food for thought. Four, the chips bought at Foremark were probably the worst I have experienced in living memory; no mean feat! Five, of far more importance was the gentleman hiker. He was pleased to sit with us; it soon became apparent as to the reason why. This gentleman was hiking alone, having lost his wife to cancer several years ago. Which led me to a discovery of which I was unaware. 

    Apart from our friend the hiker ((not counting the cafe man) my wife and I spoke to no-one in person for the entire day; not one solitary person other than each other. In a city of two hundred and thirty thousand plus souls, to me at least, a most surprising occurrence. My wife and I are lucky, we have each other; others are not so lucky. Rich or poor, loneliness for many must be the most dreadful daily affliction.    

   
An unspectacular, unexceptional day indeed; day 27147 or thereabouts of my life. Yet it is not 'Just another day.' All the days of your life are special, remember, we have NOT got unlimited days on this earth. Make every day count in whatever ways you think fit.
Now for the most interesting part. The posts of kind readers concerning a day in their lives. In no order they show the variation, of circumstances and lifestyle of 'bloggers that I know"!

ANNE, a retired lady from Somerset.

On Saturday 1 March 2014 husband and I were away from home, staying in Pershore in  Worcestershire at The Angel Hotel.  The reason for our beak away from Somerset  was to see son and his children who live in Pershore and also daughter and her little girl who live in Stratford upon Avon

So, we woke at usual sort of time -7.30 - and I made us each a drink in the room and, after our morning ablutions we went down to a leisurely breakfast at just after 9 am.  The hotel  is well appointed and has a charming dining room.  I ordered a pot of coffee and had bacon, tomato and mushrooms followed by lovely warm, crunchy toast and Seville orange marmalade. 

It was a beautiful day, with blue skies and sunshine.  At around 10.30 am we left the hotel and drove across to Stratford to daughter’s, arriving at approximately 11 am.   Granddaughter was very surprised to see us as Mummy had not mentioned it to her.  We admired the alterations that have very recently been made to the kitchen and dining room, and chatted for an hour or so (with tea and coffee) and then strolled in towards the town itself for lunch (about 20 minutes).  We walked through the lovely gardens bordering the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, which were crowded because the weather was so good. 

We went to a cafe in Sheep Street called FourTeas which has a “forties” theme.  The waitresses were dressed in pretty print dresses with matching scarf turbans and white  pinnies.  The menus were after the fashion of the Ration Books we were used to in the 1940’s and there was all sorts of memorabilia and photos all around the rooms.  A popular cafe, there were quite a few birthday parties taking place each having a cake presented with the staff singing “Happy Birthday”.

Fortunately we didn’t have to wait too long for a table and eventually ordered lunch,  poached eggs on toast for me as we had had breakfast and I knew we would be eating again in the evening.  We left as soon as we had finished as there was quite a queue for tables.  Husband walked home with granddaughter and daughter and I browsed the shops for a while, making a couple of purchases.  I bought some baking cases shaped like tiny flower pots and some greaseproof circles from a kitchen shop.  Had a look at some fashion shops but wasn’t tempted to buy.  We strolled back to daughter’s and had yet another hot drink before husband and I took our leave of them and drove back to Pershore arriving at around 4.30 pm. 

Husband (who has not been too well lately) went for a rest and I walked along the road to my son’s home.  Sadly he is a divorced man but was about to go and collect his son (13) and daughter (10)  who would stay with him overnight and they would spend the next day together.  I went with him to meet the children and he dropped me with my granddaughter at the shops to make a few purchases.  The main reason for this was because it was his birthday on 4 March and we were just buying a few extra things for him and also a birthday card.  We had arranged to meet son and grandson at The Angel at 6.30 for dinner. 

Son and grandson duly arrived, we ordered our meals, I ordered chicken curry and for dessert had sticky toffee pudding and had a lovely chatty relaxed evening.  Once the meal was over I took the children up to our room where they wrote Daddy’s card and we wrapped his gifts in readiness for the next morning when we would “do birthday” with him.  They left us at around 8.30 and we just went to our room and had an early night!

HELEN, an English lady living in Costa Rica.

Saturday March 1st Helen Devries, pensioner, living with my husband and assorted animals in the country in Costa Rica. Rose at five to let out the dogs and heat milk for the lamb. Fed lamb, cleaned up after lamb, took a shower and made breakfast. Read the newspapers on line and caught up with e mails to answer. Handed care of lamb to my husband. Coffee break...coffee made by me. Prepared lunch....and ate it. Went down to flop about in the pool for half an hour, then on return did some filing, drafted a letter for my husband's solicitor, went shopping. On return, made afternoon coffee, cut sugar cane and bananas for the sheep, cattle and horse and fed same. Caught up on blogs. Put chickens and ducks into their pens for the night. Made supper...ate same. Messed about with clearing up the kitchen which looked like a tip, listening to the BBC on the radio. Let the dogs out again. Showered and went to bed at about 10.00pm. 

ANITA, a lady from the heartland of America.

I'll be back to read your previous post that inspired this one. Until then, here's my 3/1/14 day: Woke up at 6 a.m. Went back to sleep. Got up at 8. Took the dog outdoors to pee. Ate cereal. Sent email to a parent of my daughter's friend to find out when I should pick her up from last night's sleepover. Showered. Responded to text message from another daughter who is at a retreat (she is breaking out in red splotches). Drove to pick up my daughter from the sleepover. Stood in the foyer of the parent's home and talked for 15 minutes. Drove back home while chatting with another friend on my cell (she's giving me pet sitting details and instructions because she'll be gone today and tomorrow). Got home and ate a Lean Cuisine frozen meal for lunch. It wasn't enough, so I heated a seafood cake in the oven and ate it. Put a load of laundry in the washer. Paid a bill online. Responded to a business email. Needed a boost, so I fixed and Got waken by my alarm went to the bathroom brushed my hair and teeth poured my frist cup of coffee got dressed went to work had another cup of coffee while I opened the work site. Went to office and sit to do some paperwork. flew off the handle. Spent the next 5 hours checking on workers Ran to get supplies Came back and lined out workers again Had some lunch Went and made sure work was getting done Closed up shop after getting tomorrows supply list Set down to do paperwork that did not finish Made sure work site was properly locked up Wrote a report that I have ignored for a week. Now after a 15 hour day I am going to get something to eat. Take a shower. Go to sleep, so I can repeat tomorrow. on Day 27069; Just Another Day.

KEITH, a retired gentleman from Leicestershire.

 I can tell you now about a day in my life cos every day is the same! Get up. Breakfast. Read Yahoo News. Check emails [none]. Wash the pots. Have a lie down and a nap. Lunch. Have a lie down and a nap. Watch the news. Have a lie down and a nap. Evening meal. Write witty post for my blog. Dinner. Have a lie down and a nap. Go to bed. Y'know, just lately I just can't seem to get to sleep at night. S'pose I ought to cut out writing witty posts; that might help. on Day 27069;

MELINDA, a young lady from America.

Greetings fellow Ken fans!

I'm Melinda, 57, retired former educator, who lives alone in a small town in the heartland of the US.

I just love a Saturday.  I don't know why, but it seems longer (in a good way) than the other days of the week.  And I don't exercise over the weekends, yay!

I awoke to my clock radio and listened to the local news and the weather forecast (very cold and snow).  I arose and stood still for a few seconds to see how my arthritic knees, ankles, and heel were going to treat me today.  

I went down to the living area of my basement to start the wood stove.  I pretty much stay down there during the winter months - so cozy!.  Since I only have enough wood to last a few more days, I thought I would spring clean that area.  I turned on my usual NPR Saturday morning fare to listen to Car Talk and Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me.

After those programs were over and most of the cleaning completed, I headed up to the kitchen to fix a late breakfast.  I ground espresso beans to make my version of a mocha.  While the coffee brewed and filled the air with my favorite rich, robust aroma, I read Friday night's local newspaper.  I took my coffee and toast down to the basement and watched an online episode of the British soap, Eastenders.  I think I was meant to live on Albert Square.

I read for a while.  I try to read 100 pages a day.  Then, as usual, I spent way too much time on the computer.  I checked email (I don't know how I ended up with 5 accounts), and looked through blogs and photo streams through my Feedly account.  Most of the photos are of Britain.  I believe I must be preparing for my next life in which I will be born there.  I yearn to return to Great Britain while I'm still in good health.  I would like to find a tour I think.

Ate some chocolate chip cookies.

I washed a load of clothes.

As I do on the first day of each month, I cleaned the coffee bean grinder and espresso machine.

Ate some chocolate candy.

I wrapped a birthday gift for my daughter-in-law.  I tried to get fancy, so it took much longer than it should have.

For supper, I fixed ham & beans and cornbread, and tidied up the kitchen.

Ate some more chocolate candy.

Watched some television and more computer time.

Took a bath, put on my jammies, brushed my teeth, and returned to the basement for yes, even more TV and computer time!

I tend to stay up really late (1:00 or 2:00 a.m.).  I have found if I go to bed too early, I tend to lie awake in the dark which seems to exacerbate my worries and fears (about dying and not being found for days and whether or not my house is built over a sink hole, as you do).  I watched TV until I could barely keep my eyes open, then read in bed until I kept falling asleep.  I discovered that after I turn out the light, if I start counting backward from 100 I don't think/worry.  Sometimes, I will picture writing the alphabet in different fonts.  Is that weird?

I often think I fritter away my days and that I should be doing something worthwhile.   I volunteer at the hospital a couple of days a month which isn't much.  I read about retirees who learn to paint, author books, create beautiful objects, become active within the community, etc.  One day recently when I was berating myself because I hadn't accomplished anything that day, I thought, "You know what?  I didn't hurt anyone, I didn't break any laws, and I didn't create problems.  I really enjoyed my day doing the activities that gave me pleasure!"  So until I find my retirement role, I've given myself permission to enjoy my little corner of the globe. 

Best wishes for health and happiness fellow read

BRENDA Smith

Married lady, now retired, living in semi-rural Perthshire, Scotland.  One cat.

Got up at 8 am and let the cat out.  Noticed that it had finally stopped raining and that it might be quite a nice day.  Also spotted on the calendar that it was St David's Day, but there isn't a daffodil in sight up here at the moment.  Ate breakfast with my husband - we rarely have the same thing as he likes one cereal and I like another, he likes toast and I prefer almond croissants, he drinks orange juice and I prefer apple, he likes tea and I need coffee first thing, but we've been happily married for 46 years, so we must have something in common! 

Let the cat back in through the kitchen window and fed him.  Let him out through the door five minutes later.  We never know whether he's coming or going. I don't think he does either!

Checked my smart phone and iPad for messages (one on each, so answered them).  Logged in to my laptop and checked bank account and progress of parcel ordered earlier in the week.  On its way, so they say.  So is Christmas!  Decided I hate the term "silver surfer", as some upstart website dared to address me!  I'm not silver, I don't surf and I've been using a computer for over 30 years!!

Showered and dressed in jeans and a warm jumper, as it's still chilly out there in spite of the sunshine.  Flicked a duster around half-heartedly (and only because the sun showed up the dust) while waiting for the washing machine to complete a load of sheets which I'd stripped from the bed.  Re-made the bed with the help of my husband (a rare event, as I usually have to do it myself).  Tumble dried the previous day's washing to dry it off completely and put it all away. Hung out the bedding to dry in the sun - a first for this year!

Walked to the shop for a newspaper and some milk, chatting to a couple of neighbours en route, so journey took longer than expected.  Checked out the details of the local Snowdrop Festival held over this weekend and decided to follow the snowdrop trail after lunch, which was a toasted cheese and ham sandwich.  This was made in our ancient sandwich maker which is no longer manufactured and we worry how we'll manage without it when it finally gives up the ghost.  The modern versions just don't compare!

Husband joined me for the snowdrop trail and we enjoyed a lovely walk through the town and out along a country lane, with snowdrops in abundance everywhere you looked.  Over 10,000 new bulbs were planted earlier in the year and they were all looking wonderful in the spring sunshine.  Both felt guilty that we'd not volunteered to help plant them.  I took lots of photographs of snowdrops, as photography is a hobby of mine.  The walk took us to the art studio of a local painter, where we gratefully drank coffee and munched on delicious home-made almond cake for a small donation.  I bought two of the artist's cards as they are ideal for special friends' birthdays.  On the return journey home, we were able to admire a large mural she had painted for the festival.

Let cat in as we entered the house and fed him again. Brought in bedding which was almost dry and smelled wonderful after being in the fresh air.  Made us both a drink and then husband retired to his study for a snooze, while I downloaded the photos I'd taken on to my laptop and edited them.  Spent an hour or so online, mainly on a photography website, where I view and comment on other people's photos and they do the same on mine.  Answered a phone call from daughter who lives down south and had a lovely chat with her, then cooked the evening meal and ate it with my husband from trays while we watched some TV.  Cat joined us on sofa for a tickle and a snooze (cat, not us). 

Nothing interesting on TV later, so we watched a couple of shows already recorded.  Let cat out for final time (wish we had a cat flap, but it's not possible).  Made a hot drink and both read more of the Saturday newspaper, which has so many supplements, we never get through them all.  Let the cat back in again and we and we all settled down for the night at about 11.30 pm.  I read from my Kindle for a while, then it was lights out and goodnight.

Michael Fitzgibbons, a busy, retired Australian
Saturday 1st March 2014. 

It's hard to actually say when my day begins. I am usually awakened by the needs of one of our dogs. To be accurate its the old one, who is like me and sometimes needs to do a call of nature in the night. So any time from 3am to 5am is when I first wake. Today it was 04:35 and by 4:45 the deed had been done and I was able to go back to bed. We have had a deep frost during the night and the grass was white and the ground crunched underfoot. As usual, I don't try to go to sleep, I just cocoon myself in bed. Then I listen to one or more podcasts. (I did however manage to nod off later)

The Podcasts that I listen to are all pre downloaded from iTunes onto my iPod. The current series I'm listening to is called 'Damn Interesting.' Its hard to say what the content is going to be for each podcast. It could be a short story, it could be an excerpt from a book. It could have an historical flavour or it could be factual. Out of the current batch of Podcasts (free download) I enjoyed my latest night time listening, it was called 'The Conductor.'

The Conductor, has nothing to do with music, this podcast was about the worlds most lucky and at the same time, unlucky person.  I don't know about you, but I find thunder and lightning to be a spectacular natural phenomena. Best when viewed from a distance, the power of nature can be awe inspiring. However, when actually caught in a lightning storm it can be very frighting. Lightning is a massive discharge of static electricity that occurs when there is an imbalance in the electrical charge between the cloud and the earth's surface. Put very simply, it is a giant electric spark in the sky - but a very powerful one. It can stop a person's heart and on occasion has been known to cook their internal organs. 

A popular saying about lightning is associated with chance. How often do you hear the phrase 'as much chance of happening as being struck by lightning.' Yet, on average three people die in the UK each year from lightning strikes. In the UK, up to 60 people every year get struck and survive, but it's estimated that more than three-quarters of them suffer some form of permanent disability.

Apparently men are four times as likely to be struck than is a women. This is believed to be because men are statistically more likely to be outdoors. Golfers are probably at greatest risk, because they are likely to be caught in the open far from shelter. There are three types of lightning strike. A direct strike is when it hits you and goes to earth through you. A side flash is when it hits another object and jumps sideways to hit you. A ground strike is when it hits the ground then travels through it, hitting you on the way. 

So as you can imagine, I was thunderstruck (pun intended) to learn from the podcast about Roy Sullivan who worked as a park ranger in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia. Roy in his lifetime was hit by lightning on no less than seven occasions and survived all of them. He gained a nickname "Human Lightning Conductor" or "Human Lightning Rod." Roy was recognised by the Guinness World Records as the person struck by lightning, more recorded times than any other human being. (Actually he was hit eight times) However, the story seems to be about the man with the same number of lives as a cat. The subsequent events surrounding each strike adds an even more remarkable chapter to his life.  He may have been unlucky each time he was struck, but he was also remarkably lucky afterwards. More surprising is Roy's wife who was also struck once in her own right. Unfortunately Roy later ended his ninth life with a self inflicted gunshot wound. 

I awake from my slumbers again. A cloudless sky and that type of bright sunshine that only comes with a frosty morning, pours in through the portholes. I make two tea's one is 'Chai' for the Memsahib and the other is 'Yorkshire' for me. Then its back to bed and podcasts.

A short nap later, its breakfast time and the Memsahib who is already up and about, prepares my usual treat. A brown bread, bacon, egg (duck) and tomato triple decker with a cup of steaming hot tea. Then I'm cajoled out of my pyjamas and into the shower before dressing to take the dogs for a walk. Today, its along the crispy crunchy canal towpath. The weather this morning is bitter cold but the sun feels quite warm for the first day of March, Care has to be taken underfoot to avoid the remaining crusty but squidgy mud and iced over puddles. Soon, everyone is glad to be back into the wonderful warmth of the boat and peeling off the outer layers of cold clothes. I suppose I should have mentioned the boat earlier.  We are currently spending quite a bit of time aboard our narrowboat which is just over 50 feet in length. Narrowboats vary from around 25 to 70 feet in length. 

So I'm back on board watching the old girl Abbey. She is such an indomitable character. I suppose as dogs go, she has been around for quite a long time. (15) In that time she has obviously observed us at close quarters. She was once aware of every slight inflection in our voices. So for instance, whispering about going to the vet was sure to alert her. But now she is as deaf as a post and seems to be enjoying the quiet solitude. However, she continues to observe what we do and more to the point, she knows exactly when we are scheduled to do it. Because Abbey suffers from anxiety attacks when left alone - we have to organise our outings whilst she is having one of her frequent and silently undisturbed siestas. 

As for Abbey, the day tends to start much closer to 11am than 8am. I have just laid out her breakfast food. She sidled up, gives it as close a visual inspection as her one good eye (cataract) will allow. When she finally decides that we are not trying to poison her. She carefully extracts one tiny piece to conduct further taste tests upon. So, she makes a unilateral decision that today the fare on offer is not up to the expected standard. Now, she has to make a judgement call. Ignore, eat or its to be buried. As usual, she decided to go for the latter option. 

With consummate ease the old girl decides that the carpet can be rearranged to cover the dish of food. A quarter of an hour later and after much pushing and thrusting with her nose. The dish has made two laps round the coal scuttle. But the task is still unachieved. Its at this point she becomes a bit irritated. There are several short pauses while she re-evaluates the situation. A further short bust of nose shuffling round the bowl leaves her even more frustrated.

Abbey

A change of plan is required, so after a senior moment, she decides to lay alongside the dish guarding the contents from our other dog Poppy. Poppy starts much earlier in the day 6:30ish and has long since had her breakfast. She has been known to clear up unattended food. In fact her dish has been washed and dried ready for future use. 


The old girl decides that a short walk might help. So she paces up and down the boat several times. Returning to look at the food bowl once more. Even more pacing up and down is obviously called for. Then on her return to the dish, there is a low whimper of frustration before a further futile round of carpet nuzzling.

Abbey has a drink from her water bowl, another senior moment before contemplating the situation once more. She regroups from a position in front of the nice warm stove and a new strategy is decided upon. She eats half the content of the bowl, thereby reducing the amount of food to be buried. This is followed by a further protracted round of nose shuffling of the carpet around the bowl. However, even with the amount of consumables reduced by half, the burial task remains unachieved.

Its at this point that I am brought into the 'equation for persuasion.' She places herself in my line of sight. With occasional backward glances towards the food bowl. However, I choose to remain ignorant of her commands. Now there is an added, soft low whimper or two. With more frequent glances at the food bowl. I have still not made any eye contact. Its time to up the anti! There is a small whimper which comes with a light and delicate touch of a paw on my shin. Followed by a glance at the dish, however I still choose to ignore the request.

The ultimate weapon is now deployed. This is when a hairy chin, propping up a hairy face is placed gently upon my knee. I can see in the midst of the faded ginger mop of the Fox Terrier breed, two dark eyes. (one is slightly milky from the cataract) Both of which are in close proximity to a small dark nose. Now, whilst some of her faculties have either stopped working or have been blunted. The nose is as good as its ever been. Chocolate can easily be detected and the nose soon points the rest of the dog to where its located. The nose this morning has a thin covering (a menu) along the ridge, consisting of what she has eaten so far. 


There is another small pleading whimper, from the hairy but wonderfully cute monster. I acknowledge with a stroke and she immediately looks at the food bowl, before returning her gaze to me once more. "OK" I say, getting up I place the bowl on the galley top out of reach. I'm not sure why I hold the conversation with her, as she hears almost nothing in her silent world.

With a sidelong glance, (is it thanks?) she heads for her bed. She begins to turn round and round in circles. Then she makes several turns in the opposite direction, before resuming back to circling the other way again. There is an unsatisfied slump of her rear end, before I am placed in her gaze once more, I ignore her. She returns to circling again, first this way and then that. Followed by another unceremonious flop to her haunches. I am once more the object of her gaze and attention. So I give in and move her bed a little closer to the stove. Then I gently lay her on her side after fluffing up her bed. There is a contented sigh, as she lays back once more. Now she wipes her nose and hairy face on the pillow. It goes quiet and there is no movement. An eye drop is quickly placed into each eye. The eyes close, just as the blanket is tucked in at the edges. 


Arranging my day, is such a tiring task. I know my place and so does she.

Now, its mid morning and I have a few chores to do. Starting with me stoking up the stove. Then I fill the coal scuttle with fuel for later use. The solid fuel stove actually keeps the boat toasty warm. Once the boat chores are done, then its a trip back home to repair the garden fence. The gales over the last few weeks seemed to be trying to move the fence next door, one section at a time.  By late afternoon I had cut back about ten different types of climbing plants that had overwhelmed the fence-line. The climber cover was so good, the plants had been holding the fence together. Soon the first two panels were replaced.  But the wind still has a cold bite when the sun is behind the clouds. Then as the weather took a turn for the worse and as the light was beginning to fade, it was time to pack up the tools for the day. I returned back to the boat. 

Feet up and a couple of large cups of percolated coffee later, its time for a bit of work on the blog. First a quick run round my favourite bloggers - including Grumpy Old Ken - and then its on to create a blog posting of my day. I have been blogging now for four years and this is post number 1617 to be published. I have a further 98 posts I'm working on and most are almost ready for publishing.

Most of my blog is written with the tongue firmly planted in cheek. Based around the day to day chit chat when we are out cruising. However, much as we like boating the rivers and canals around the UK. Its nice to moor up the boat for the winter months in a marina.  Even when moored up for long periods, I'm never left short of inspiration, as there is always something on the news that grabs my attention. I also do a bit of writing for NarrowBoat World an on-line newspaper for the inland waterways.  I also enjoy reading old newspapers from a 100 to 200 years ago. I search for old waterways articles and use them to stimulate new posts, often contrasting then and now. Actually its quite an eclectic mix of subject matter that eventually gets published.

Now, its early evening, and its time for our meal. The Memsahib is a wonderful cook who  always makes up a mouthwatering daily menu for the week ahead. Today its baked potato done in the hot coals of the boat stove. With a topping of chilli and cheese. The Memsahib will have a glass of wine and its a small beer for me. 

Now its mid evening and time for another walk around the marina for the dogs. Then we settle down to watch a bit of television. (football) Then a bit more blogging for me and the Memsahib usually does some knitting. This time its a chunky woolly boaters jumper called a 'Gansey.' The dogs winter coats are also hand knitted as are almost all of the other dog coats around the marina.

Its, late in the evening. The Memsahib is always first to bed where she likes to read electronic books on her Kindle. An hour or so later after the dogs have had a last walk, its time for bed. Tonight's podcast is the amazing story of Mary Toft. In September, 1726 Mary began to give birth to rabbits. Yes, that's right 'rabbits'! The local surgeon, Doctor John Howard, responded to the family's summons and hurried to Mary's house where, to his amazement, he helped deliver nine of the animals. They were all born dead. Nevertheless, this didn't lessen the amazing fact that she was giving birth to them.....

I start to feel the heavy eyes and decide to listen to the rest of this podcast later... 

Good night.. 

Mick settled down for the night at about 11.30 pm.  I read from my Kindle for a while, then it was lights out and goodnight.

Thanks, everyone for your help. Something occurs to me. If this is what we did on a certain day, I wonder what the rest of the people in the world did. Population of the world at 8.50pm on the 8th March, 2014 estimated at

                        7,218,209,450  !

                                                                                                                                   Grumpy Old Ken