Archive for the ‘diary’ Category

start of a new week

Monday, March 18th, 2024

The start of a new week. Exciting eh? Made it! 🙂Busy weekend. Now sleeves rolled up and at it early. Actually my sleeves aren’t rolled up. That was metaphoric, meteoric, stratospheric, atmospheric. Ignore the last few. Just threw them in it as they sounded right. Sick. Rolled off the tongue as opposed to up the sleeve. I’m wearing a new Fatface sweater and haven’t started rolling those sleeves up.

I made a contribution at our Monday morning meeting today. Don’t do this v often. In fact I don’t often attend it and if I do it is only to show my face.

As I write the Red Arrows are practising overhead. I have a note in my calendar to go and watch their preseason display at RAF Coningsby this lunchtime but won’t have time now as some idiot went and put a meeting in for two pee em. Oh it was me. Doh!

It is a bright sunny day out. Quite warm in the sunshine but a little cool in the shade. The heating is not on in the shed, what with the vernal equinox being this Wednesday and we all know what that means. Good phrase, vernal equinox if somewhat archaic.

Traditionally this is when I start wearing shorts. Not sure I’m quite there yet in 2024. As I recall it took me a few more weeks to ease into a summery outlook last year. Classically Easter, which this year is at the end of March, is a cold weather holiday for folk in the UK. A time of thick sweaters and woolly hats where shorts are probably not worn. Most people’s memories of Easter holidays are of long traffic jams on the road to their destination and shivering in the cold wind at a seaside resort somewhere.

It’s been some time since we regularly went anywhere for Easter, partly on the basis of the aforementioned traffic and weather. However this year we are headed to Mona’s Isle. Setting off a couple of days early though so not anticipating any issues. Coming up quite fast on the rails really. Weather is unlikely to be particularly good but we are used to that. 

The big question is whether the new IoM ferry terminal in Liverpool will be open for business. Not that it will make a blind bit of difference to us as we will probs just be sat in the car in a queue waiting to get aboard. We have reservations in the posh lounge onboard the ferry. If we go from Heysham we normally book a cabin as it is a longer journey and the Irish Sea is often rough. When we go for TT Week we are flying over. Not a hope of getting on the boat.

Milkman came at oh four thirty seven. Usual guy.

Une quiet nuit in with ma gurl. Watching a bit of history on iPlayer. Amazing to think that only ten thousand years ago this island was directly connected to the continent. Wouldn’t have had to book a ferry or Eurostar. In fact they wouldn’t have bothered digging the chunnel. “Chunnel qu’est ce que?”

Ten thousand years is nowt in the great scheme of things innit. It’s an unimaginable amount of time in politics. Let’s not go there. In my church we don’t talk about politics.

We could talk about farming. It would be quite nice to have a cow in the field at the back of our house. Problem is we would have to milk the bloody thing. Good to have fresh milk every day. More than we could drink so the surplus could be sold to the dairy. In mam’s parents, my grandparents cottage, Tollybraddan, in Mohil, County Leitrim, they had a cow out the back. Mam would drive the cart to town to deliver the milk. Amazing really. A different world.

It would be feasible for us to keep hens. However they attract rodents and we also get the occasional fox in the back garden. Nice to have fresh eggs though.

uplifting sunshine

Saturday, March 16th, 2024

Bright uplifting sunshine brings joy to our lives this morning. It is calm out. There is a sense that the garden is soaking up the warmth and channelling it into new life on earth.

An air of calm also pervades the kitchen, the only sound being the ticking clock on the wall behind me. A water filled jug stands quietly alone on the butchers’ block.

THG has now come in from inspecting her domain and we discuss a shopping list. More milk, ham and some nice crusty rolls. My records show I last went to the shop on the twenty seventh of February, the date “Tref’s shopping list” was last updated. 

I keep a shopping list. It is an ongoing record of what I’ve bought over the year. Nothing gets deleted and I start a new one every January. Most of the items are often repeated as you can imagine. Bread and ham etc. Sandpaper (if we don’t have any) stands out as being out of the ordinary. We did have some so none was bought. I don’t do most of the shopping.

How much extra milk is needed depends on whether I’ve drunk any with breakfast or lunch since the last delivery. We will need a couple more pints this morning.

Today is Super Saturday. The finale of the Six Nations rugby. Wales are doing very badly and might well collect the wooden spoon. Ireland are doing very well and should hopefully win the tourney. This would have been cemented in during the last match against England had they not given away possession at the last gasp. 

It makes for an interesting set of matches. Every game counts. I’m going to see if I can find my Irish rugby tshirt. The one I bought from the Irish shop in Nantes city centre last October.

Fwiw I intend to stay clear of the M25 this weekend as part of it is closed. Neither will I be shopping at Sainsburys due to their computer glitch. This is not a tough ask. I very rarely use the M25, mostly because it is one hundred and twenty nine miles from our house. Sainsburys on Tritton Road is only four miles away but it might as well be on the M25 from a convenience perspective.

I last used Sainsburys, in fact perhaps the only time I have ever used them, was a few years ago when I needed to burn a load of Nectar points. From GNER or whatever the train company serving Lincoln was called at the time. I think. Didn’t feel like good value for money but it meant part of the Christmas shop was free that year. 

The doors to the shed are slightly ajar. This is a good sign. Birds chat contentedly, daffodils dither and clothes on the line unhurriedly sway. Good drying weather.

TV is on in the shed. FA Cup action, or inaction as may be the case in the hitherto goalless clash between Wolves and Coventry. Muted, the TV and probably the fans. An advert flashed up for some tickets for something. Dunno what but it reminded my that I had a lottery ticket on my desk that I had not checked.

Excitedly, I looked up the winning numbers for last week’s draw. When I buy a lottery ticket which might be as often as once every six months I always take great care when checking the numbers. Don’t want to risk chucking a winning ticket in the bin do eye. On this occasion, as on most other times I’ve bought a ticket, not a single number came up. Not one bleedin number! Doesn’t stop me California dreaming. In another six months or so I’ll blow yet another pound, no I think it might be two pounds nowadays. The next ticket could be the big one 🙂

the earliest yet.

Friday, March 15th, 2024

Two fifty four ey em. That’s the earliest yet. A superhuman effort I would say. Makes me wonder what time he has to leave the dairy. We have always known that milk “people” are early risers. They have to be if folk are to have milk on their Cornflakes for breakfast. However, to make it to our house before three o’clock in the morning would mean leaving the dairy in Newark at two thirty at the latest and that assumes that we are the first stop. Unlikely.

There is more. Before he sets off he probably has to load up the milk float, I assume they still call them milk floats, making sure he has all the extras covered – bread, OJ, stuff like that and chucking in a few additional pints of the good stuff in case of extra orders requested in notes on the doorstep, presumably. Long sentence, that. Is there no end to the capabilities of this man?

Seems clear to me that to be a milkman you have to be a special sort of person. Anyway the point is he must start work not long after midnight. In the interest of scientific research I googled it.

The first result came from the ‘digital spy forum” in which a snippet from 2009 said “I used to be a Milkman about 10 years ago and would start work about 2AM, It would take about a hour to load and get the float sorted out,” There was more but I didn’t click to go further.

Then second in the search results, McQueens Dairies, say “We aim to deliver milk between 11 pm and 7 am”. So some milkies must start at the same time as some of you are rocking out of your local pub. Wowsers. 7am is cutting it a bit fine for the cornflakes mind you but who am I to say?

It is a long time since I left a pub at closing time. THG tells me our dairy is called East Anglia Dairy, Newark.

Back in Lincoln today and having a hair cut at ten ey em. It desperately needs cutting. Not had it done since before trefbash. Three months ago! I know I know. Not long now.

Haven’t backed up my laptop for 233 days, it says.

we are not on a girls trip

Thursday, March 14th, 2024

“By the way we are not on a girls trip. This is actually work.” Well it doesn’t bloody sound like it. My bose phones are on even before the train has left the station. Headphones are probably the single most important travel accessory.

Missed the Eurostar I was meant to catch due to an aforementioned schoolboy error.  Fortunately there were three whole seats left on the fourteen fifty two! Two of them were together so I have a row of two seats to myself which as you know is very handy when it comes to food time.

The headphones are only partially successful. I can still hear her. Her companions have just all laughed in unison. Corporates. Exacerbated by the fact that two of them are sat across the aisle from the others. She, in a window seat, is projecting her voice so that they can join in the conversation. It gets worse. One of them has a loud American accent!  Bring on the beer.

Feels like the weekend. Thursdays usually do feel like that although I do have one regular conference call on Friday afternoons. Two pee em. At least the Eurostar is generally painless, once you are checked in.

Whilst listening to ma toons and writing this I am also watching “The Flying Scotsman from the Footplate” with subtitles on BBC iPlayer. Magnificent. Magnifico. Magnifique. Great.

What a contrast it is between the Eurostar and the ‘Scotsman.

Pescetarian. The American. She will eat meat at a push but considers full veggie too difficult when trying to keep the family happy at mealtimes. There ya go. I don’t mind a baked potato meself on occasion, and beans on toast. Oh and a chip butty. However I suspect a takeaway beef curry with fried rice will be on the menu tonight. Go down well after a long and tiring trip. It’s not on my list of all time great nosh particularly as it can vary quite a bit from one Chinese restaurant to another but makes it to page two. Same as an Indian curry I suppose.

It is dark therefore we must have stopped in Lille. Would be a bit of a shame if someone got on and sat next to me. I’d have to shift my stuff 🙂.

The problem now is that they have been drinking and the laughter is getting louder and more frequent. I’m not really complaining. It one of those funny facts of the life itinerant and they are perfectly entitled to bring some joy into their otherwise drab and humdrum lives 🙂

Lille is rapidly disappearing to the rear. Countryside opens up before us. Small villages race by, church spires stand sentry, proud guardians of an ancient way of life. Do they have television I wonder? Certainly not internet access, sureleyment.

The two girls on the other side of the aisle have drifted off and are engrossed in their devices. Sucked in. I can almost hear the whooshing sound. Slurrrrp. Sluuurrrrrrrrppppp. One of them is reading her kindle.

I have a paperback with me in my bag if I get bored with ritin stuff. It’s a history of the Isle of Man from a sea power perspective from around the sixth century AD for the next eight hundred years ago. Can’t remember the exact title or the dates but it is interesting obvs. The clash between different Celtic cultures – Brython versus Gael. Gael prevailed in the end I imagine based on where the Manx language fits into the scheme of things but I haven’t got that far yet. Also the Vikings aren’t on the scene at the mo.

The kindle reader has nodded off. That’s what a glass of champagne does for you. The others are powering on through. Total pros. I imagine she, the main “speaker” will get home tonight, flop on the sofa and say nothing. Vocal chords totally exhausted. She might be able to hold her hand out and utter the word DRINK!.

We are now in the chunnel. Must be unless there is a total eclipse going on. Not impossible but I think I’d have heard about it in advance. This knowledge is very powerful. Can you imagine why?

The chunnel is 50.45km long or 50,45km as they say in the continental Europe. I’ll never get used to that comma. Virgule. It’s on the screen above the aisle. Screens. Happy to pass that info on. You never know when it will come up in a pub quiz, or on University Challenge.

This train gets in to St Pancras at 15:57. My train leaves at 16:06. It’s going to be touch and go. Life will be a lot easier if I can catch it but it’s not a cert. Not a racing cert. I ain’t gonna race anyway. You have to shuffle down the moving staircase and around past customs then across to Kings X. We shall see. You will find out in due course.

Right I’m going to carry on watching the Flying Scotsman. Och aye.

more train of thought – Anvers

Wednesday, March 13th, 2024

more train of thought

Comfortably on eleven oh four Eurostar to Brussels, coach 16 Seat 57. Table to meself at the front of the train. Place to be. Buried in ma tunes. Poxy connectivity as usual. Having a table to yourself means being able to shift the food tray out of the way in between courses. 

The woman sat over the aisle in a single seat is having to put the tray on her lap whilst typing away on a powerpoint. I’m writing my diary. A day in the worralife!

Just emerged from the chunnel. The weather is the same here as in London. Dullness prevails. Looks like it has been raining a lot. Makes life in the trenches very unpleasant. Don’t suppose trench living is pleasant whatever the weather. I only mention trenches because the train traverses world war one territory.

This train continues on to Amsterdam via Rotterdam after dropping me off in Brussels. Shame it doesn’t stop in Antwerp which is where I am off to. Goes through Antwerp. 293kmh. The train. Quite fast eh? The countryside is verily whizzing by, forsooth.

I seem to be jumping back and forth across history here. I mean c’mon. Nobody says forsooth or verily these days. Did they ever other than in Shakespeare plays?

Pretty full on day in London yesterday. These conferences are knackering. No respite. I rarely bother with any of the content.

Now on the delayed (15 mins) 14:19 to Anvers Centraal. 2 changes of platform, presumably because of the delay. You have to be alert when catching trains in Belgium. 

Trundling along at a very sedate pace. No wonder it is running late. I suppose the bloke carrying the flag out front is a bit tired. We’ve just pulled in to Brussels North and are now running seventeen minutes late.

Looking at a quiet night tonight. Beans on toast ideally but I guess they probs don’t have that delicacy on menus in Antwerp. Missing a trick. I don’t want moules frites or steak frites Bob.

I wonder what Belgians eat instead of beans on toast. They must have their own comfort foods. Chip butties? Quite like a chip butty. Buttered white bread.

All quiet in the exec lounge of the Antwerp Hilton. Quaffing a g&t before heading down to the bar which should be a bit livelier. Not made my mind up whether I want dinner. Nowt special.

In one sense it’s a waste just hanging around the hotel here in Antwerp. I’ll be back again in May though for a longer stay. See how it goze.

thought for the day

Monday, March 11th, 2024

It wasn’t ‘thought for the day’ that got me put of bed this morning. It was winners speeches from the Oscars. Worraloadofdrivel. Honestly. We’re It not for THG I don’t think I’d have the radio on in the morning other than for the two minute sports bulletin.

Off to London today. Meeting Rohan for dinner in cafe pacifico tonight although no idea what time now as his flight is delayed. Plane diverted to Sri Lanka due to a medical emergency apaz. Two nights in town then a flying visit, by Eurostar, to Antwerp for a Thursday morning meeting. 

I like Antwerp. I stay in Hilton Old Town which is slap bang in the middle of town next to the cathedral. If anyone is in the area and fancies a lemonade let me know but I don’t think I know any folks around there. 

Yesterday we waved goodbye to THG’s old car. It has been donated to Hannah who will find it very useful and who is the only one of our offspring with somewhere to put it. We are still a one car family. We only need one. 

It isn’t as if we live in the middle of nowhere. There is a bus to town every twenty minutes just down the road from the house. The 5A if I remember right. Not that I have any real desire to go to town and it is walkable. Shops! Wossthatallabout. It is going to be a few years before I qualify for a bus pass anyway and by that time I might enjoy a bus  trip to town, for the bingo. Meet the boys for half a bitter shandy!

On a whim I just looked up the bus timetable to Skegness. Every hour. Four quid from the Ancaster Avenue bus stop. Takes nearly two hours though. That’s four hours on a bus there and back. Half the day already accounted for. You really would have to have nothing better to do with your time.

I do quite like the idea of days out in Skegness, sat in a wind shelter on the front, as you do 🙂 Cup of tea in a caff on the front. Fish and chips. Small pensioner’s portion obvs. I’d expect them to have a deal every Wednesday. Perhaps not. Who knows 🙂

Maybe winters spent on a Caribbean island might work better, or somewhere around the Med. Wales even 🙂

Back to the present and reality the milkman came at twenty past five this morning. Latest he’s been. Usual bloke. Did he want a bit of a lie in? Was it a tiring weekend? We will probably never find out.

Am at one of those periods of time where I am going somewhere but not for an hour and a half. In the meantime it is difficult to motivate meself to do anything.

Thirty minutes to go. Half an hour before I set off, leave the house, depart on my next adventure. It isn’t particularly an adventure. It is what my imagination wants it to be. I’m sat in the snug with my coat on and cold hands. This is because the heating is not on in the house whereas the shed was toasty. However the shed is locked up and I have no need to return.

Back in seat E5 and the train is rolling out of the station. Choo choo. Pardon me boy. Table of four to myself. Tis the way it should be. My New York Deli sandwich is on the table in front of me awaiting a cup of tea and some sparking water to wash it down. It must be said that this member of staff is not nearly as cheery as the usual ones. Something on her mind maybs. The hidden stories that people bottled up.

I’m sitting here wearing my suede cowboy jacket. The one with all the badges on it. It is warm and most suitable for a jaunt to London. The conference I am off to tomorrow has stipulated a dress code of “business casual” so I figured the jacket would fit the bill. Business casual huh. I will also be wearing my Harris Tweed jacket mind you. Warm. Haven’t decided which tee shirt yet.

There is a private airstrip between Lincoln and Newark and today as we trundled by there was someone moving about. I can’t imagine it is used that often and certainly not at this time of year when the ground is very waterlogged. Checking to see nobody’s nicked the plane I imagine.

Lots of water in the fields around Newark. This was probably bog before the Romans drained the area. Never ask what the Romans did for us. The Trent is running very high.

At Newark a woman boarded the train. She is talking to herself and tried to engage me in conversation. Uhoh. The Bose phones are now on and I’m randomly listening to a bit of Jacques Brell whilst staring at my screen. Ah well. I’m alright 🙂It is observed that she detrains at Stevenage.

raining cats and dogs

Sunday, March 10th, 2024

It’s raining cats and dogs/men/choose your own idiom. This being the case means it is quite relaxing. I’m sure that those of you currently on a sun lounger around a pool will say that you too are relaxed. However, a) I don’t have a pool and if I did it wouldn’t be warm enough and b) I do have rain.

If I was sat on a sun lounger it would have to be in the shade as I don’t do sitting in the sun. The sun does have its uses, growing peas for example, but sitting out in it is not for me. No sir.

Meanwhile THG is getting the veg ready for today’s Sunday lunch which is being taken at lunch time as opposed to tea time in which case it would be called Sunday dinner. Again I realise this is somewhat contradictory but it really depends where you come from.  

For example members of the Yanomami tribe from the Amazonian rainforest would now be totally bewildered probs. They don’t have the concept of lunch, tea or dinner. In the rainforest you eat whenever you can, usually after killing a porcupine or a monkey, if they can catch one. Interestingly the Yanomamis have their own saying for when it rains. This translates roughly as “it is wet”. 

Today’s rain, heavy as it is, is not the horizontal driving rain often to be found on exposed moors and hillsides where it can often be quite windy. North Wales, for example, or Scotland. I daresay there I could mention other windy and exposed places but I won’t as it would get boring v quickly and mean I might spill over to another page. Don’t want to waste paper innit. 

In case you were wondering, there really is a Yanomami tribe. I googled it. There are also the pygmy and the Huli tribes and potentially others as yet undiscovered but I won’t be naming them, obvs. By all means let me know if i’ve missed any 🙂.

The average rainfall in Lincoln in March is 49.64mm or 1.95 inches if you were born before 1971. I should really invest in a weather station to record this sort of information. It would fit nicely with milkman arrival times. I did use to record the greenhouse temperature but the website i was using, trefsgreenhouse fell into disrepair. The Raspberry Pi and the sensors are still in place so one day I might get it going again. Also the live video stream.

The live stream of tomatoes growing was a particular hit. At any given time there might be as many as one viewer (ok that might have been me but I didn’t record visitor numbers). It was one of my works of slow art. I’ve posted the hugely speeded up timelapse vid of the whole growing season here so that you don’t have to search for it.

Tharrldofornow.

I don’t record visitor number for philosopherontap either. Neither do I do any SEO related tweaks.

Zen and the art of the milk round

Saturday, March 9th, 2024

Zen and the art of the milk round

It came to me at about five thirty ey em this morning. I was lying awake in bed pondering whether to get up. The birds had started singing and clearly morning was well into its stride. However I was trying to decide whether nodding off again might be a prospect.

In the interim seconds or minutes before I did indeed drop off my thoughts turned to the art of delivering milk. I played with how this might be described, at least in a title:

Zen and the art of milk floats, Zen and the philosophy of milk floats, the philosophy of the milk round etc etc etc I decided that Zen and the art of the milk round would suffice as a working title. These things tend to stick

I don’t know anything about the milkman. His job entails very antisocial hours as far as regular social norms go. Presumably he is used to this. You do from time to time hear about people in such jobs who do it because it frees them up during the rest of the day to write their play or book or similar. Might this be the case here?

He turns up three times a week at ours, usually with two pints of milk but doubled up if the next delivery is due on a bank holiday. I was going to say he turns up like clockwork but his delivery times do vary significantly, any time between three and five ey em. Why is this? No pattern has emerged as yet. Is there back story here?

The job may be seen as very philosophical. A milkman can very much get in a zone when on his round. The same houses, the same order, apart, as I said from the bank holiday example, the same route. Other than the fact that people do vary their orders, family comes to visit etc, there is no need to think.

In one sense it is almost like being a long distance runner. You set off and get in the groove. Your mind is focussed on one thing, or indeed nothing, in order to get you around those twenty six miles without constantly wondering how much further is there to go or thinking what a waste of three hours fifteen minutes this is. Insert your own time.

Each house visited is different but at the same time similar in that it only takes a few second to drop off the milk before jumping back on the float and moving on to the next.

There are other factors of note. A milk round is a historic entity, at least in recent modern history. It brings with it the stability of familiarity. A comfort level in knowing there will be milk on the table at breakfast to feed the kids their porridge, or chocolate covered sugar bombs.

Part of me would like to know more about the man himself but this would probably destroy the enigma, the mystique around the function he performs. I don’t like to think of him as being part of a well oiled machine but there is an element of that. The customer facing element of a system that begins with cows grazing in lush green fields on a hillside in deepest Britain.

I wonder how long on average a milkman stays in the job? Is it something they can only do for a few years and then burn out or is it normally a job for life, a vocation. I’m not sure the work prepares you for anything other than delivering milk although employment opportunities could, I suppose, be available in the modern post covid logistics market.

Then you have to ask yourself what does a milkman do when he retires. How does he cope with the fact that he no longer needs to get up at two ey em to feed the horse before setting off on his round. Not that they use horses to pull milk carts these days. At least I never hear the clippety clop of hooves and the milkman arrives and departs. Also the dairy is fifteen miles away in Newark a horse would not be practical.

I daresay there is more to think about when it comes to the art of the milk round which will no doubt reveal itself in due course. 

Ciao amigos.

camera update

Friday, March 8th, 2024

Last night’s camera update was successful, so I’m told. Just in time for the milkman to arrive at 03:07. The complex world in which we live. The milkman was totally oblivious to this. If we stopped updating things, software, our modern world would eventually grind to a halt. 

It isn’t particularly a big deal if I don’t record the time the milkman arrives each day. Someone reading this in a couple of hundred years might be a little curious as to what a milkman actually is, or was. Maybe they came across it in a history book  and decided to dig deeper. Dunno 🙂 No matter. Most of my friends reading this are also equally curious why I might be doing it, probs. Hey…

My mac mini updates itself as do most things with software these days. I might occasionally have to say yes son, go for it but it is typically pain free. Relies on me having a symmetrical gigabit connection to the big wide world but that I have. I realise some of you have faster connectivity but I am ok with a gig, for now.

I like that I backed up my 5GB or so hosting space in a couple of minutes. Took even less time to move it to my NAS box.

Overhead I can hear the Red Arrows practising. I think it is them. Not seen anything. Just heard. Could be RAF Waddington. 

It still feels cold outside.

feels cold out, 
warm contemplation inside,
spring to mind, 
sunward face, 
heat sink
remember that? 
long time 

dead leaves distract 
as they scurry
crisply past my window

The washing line is being a nuisance this afternoon. The clothes keep blowing about making me think someone is coming down the garden path and thus I look up from what I am doing. V distracting.

the great question of life

Wednesday, March 6th, 2024

I was aware of being awake at around five twenty five this morning. Shortly after this I opened one eye and noted the time had moved on ten minutes, then a further twenty. 

You lie there in bed pondering the great question of life, ie whether to get up or not. The issue is that your current sitch is v cosy and the act of rising brings uncertainty. Will it be cold downstairs. Certainly colder than the bed.

Sometimes I drift off again but on this occasion I didnt appear to do so. I don’t like lying there gratuitously wasting time just being awake. Eventually I said sod it and got up. 

So I’m downstairs with the birds. They had already decided it was time to wake up and are nattering away to each other. Already dawn, although I wasn’t sure whether the lightening of the sky through the back window was just light pollution here in the middle of town.

Down in the snug it also happens to be cosy. I’m tucked under a nice quilt made by THG some time ago that now adorns the back of one of the sofas. On the footstool in front of me lie a few balls of wool. Warm colours, blue, light green and grey. We have a nice place to live. Thanks to THG.

Being a Wednesday it is already half way through the working week, depending on which day you consider to be the start, obvs. In Israel they are already considering going in to the office because tomorrow is the last day of the week. Timeshift.

This week has so far gone quite quickly. It’s been pretty productive. Productivity isn’t always measured by work output although that depends on what you call work. Stuff that I get paid to do has been productive but also important stuff that we fill the rest of our lives with is also looking good. You have to look positively on life anyway but sometimes it is easier to do this. 

I’ve not thought much about what lies ahead with the day. Plenty of time for that. Sometimes it is nice to just drift for a bit. Time surf. Go where life takes you, even if it is just for an hour or two.

It is very much time I got my hair cut. I can grab hold of it at the back which means it is too long. Been thinking of trying the barber in the Carlton Centre. Will see if I have time this afternoon. Valuable stuff, time.

It is also time I made the tea. Gosh that went quickly dinnit. The milkman came at three seventeen this morning. That’s almost as early as it gets although he did a three oh two one Wednesday in January.

Ciao.

Interestingly I haven’t been anywhere since I sold the car. The one exception is when THG and I went to Wickes to buy some wood glue. She drove me and stayed in the car whilst I nipped in. Oh, also Coops and I went to pick up one of our camper vans from storage last night. He drove.

This is partly because I’ve been busy at home and partly because I haven’t really needed to go anywhere. THG does most of the shopping, largely because I always spend too much on stuff we don’t really need. Also I’m not insured on her current wheels. Picking up some new ones for her this pm which alters that.

I take it everyone is looking forward to this year’s Academy Awards. It’s this coming Sunday so not long to wait now. Truth be told I’m not sure I know anyone who is interested, except perhaps for my cousin Ken. it is quite unlikely I would even recognise those participating and being given an award.

Spring seems very much in the air. Still quite nippy mind you. My question is when do we officially recognise that spring has arrived? Is there a particular plant that blossoms? I don’t want dates. I want real life nature telling us that change is afoot. What’s the answer? I am looking forward to the day when the shed doors are flung open to the garden and I become at one with nature, as they say. This will be spring.

The itch, scratched

Tuesday, March 5th, 2024

The itch. I scratched it. Then I scratched somewhere else, and after that the top of my head. No apparent reason. Why does somewhere randomly itch?

Cold water on your face. Invigorating. Wakes you up nicely. Refreshing.

As ‘thought for the day’ began the radio switched itself off. Serendipitous. All knowing.

Outside the rain falls steadily, drumming a gentle beat on the conservatory roof. The trees, still devoid of foliage, stand motionless and have nothing to say. They stand there patiently as if resigned to a day’s inactivity ahead.

The kitchen is calm. Avocado toast with a side of streaky bacon adorns the table. A few chopped walnuts, lime and a drizzle of good balsamic vinegar. I need to replenish the supplies of good balsamic. Belazu just about cuts it.

A fair bit achieved yesterday and I expect Tuesday to continue in the same productive vein. I struck whilst the iron was hot, dammit. Whilst the sun shone. THG is pleased with her candlesticks which is good. A happy wife means a happy Tref 🙂

Interesting, the concept of finding a productive vein. It’s like striking a seam of coal, or better still gold. Let’s clear that lot out shall we? Oh yes. Gold would defo be preferable to coal for obvious reasons. Diamonds even better although let’s not get carried away.

Back on Zog there are signs of life. Movement on the upstairs landing. The day is starting in the house of Tref. I must away…

Time to get up said Zebedee

Monday, March 4th, 2024

The radio stopped at around a quarter to eight. It was on a timer. Time to get up said Zebedee. Well he didn’t say that but would have done so had he been around, natch. Many of you will have no idea who Zebedee is but you’ll have to look it up. I’m not going to help. He was magic.

Early to the shed and I thought I’d drop in on the weekly Monday morning sales meeting. Even made a small contribution as I had visited a customer whilst out in South Africa. 

It is misty out. The sun is trying to poke its nose through the gloom. The met office has promised me personally that it will be a sunny morning. I trust the good people who work there. Times have changed since the unforecast great storm of 1987 or whenever it was. Around about that time.

The news this morning is that I need to do a php upgrade on philosopherontap. Snorrabiggie really, obvs. Just popped up in an email from the host. Philosopherontap is on a shared server. Doubt it gets many visitors. There are a few other sites on there – mostly the kids own stuff but I don’t think they play much with it. Just backing it up now. Can go on my NAS box as Google drive is starting to fill up. 

5.8GB compressed so not too bad I guess.It’s a two minute download job over my 1Gbps fttp. That’s probs a lot of pics in older philosopherontap posts. I tend not to bother uploading images these days. 

Moving from 2TB to 5TB takes the monthly cost from £7.99 to £19.99. Not huge in the great scheme of things. Just one of the costs of modern day life. One of these days I’ll take a look at all the domain related costs I see coming in and perhaps rationalise them. I see cash going out in dribs and drabs but never really look at what it is.

As previously stated today is a Monday. I wonder what will be achieved this week? Seems reasonable to want to achieve something. Not work related. That stuff sorts itself out. I do have a job to do for THG to which I should turn my attention. This relates to the affixing of bases to her candlestick projects. We bought the wood and I need to cut it to size, sand down and glue. I will get that done this morning. It’s a get the circular saw out job which needs to be done outside but the sun is now out, the birds are singing away. I might as well get on with it.

Today we pick up Anne’s new car. The milkman came at four nineteen this morning and left two pints. Usual guy.

A bit of fixture collision coming up next weekend. Wales v Ireland and Liverpool v Man City. I’ll be able to watch some of one of the games on catchup.

Also it was observed that the Red Arrows had six planes out when they were practising. Last Friday it was only five. I wonder when they will have the full team out?

the time is right

Sunday, March 3rd, 2024

No milkman today. Sunday. We do need some though so someone will have to pop out this morning to buy a pint or two. Might not be me. THG reminded me that I was only insured on her car by virtue of the fully comp insurance on my own. This morning the place where I normally park my car is empty. The car, as you know, has gone.

I feel no regret about selling the Defender. Somehow it feels liberating, almost like being a student again. As a student I went everywhere by public transport, or walked. No responsibilities. No thoughts to the future. It’s almost as if the direction of travel is back to that era.

It was great to have driven the Defender for the four years or so that I had it. People would ask me cynically why I needed 4×4 gas guzzler and I would reply “because it can drive through rivers, up mountains and across deserts and glaciers”. “When would I ever use it for that” they would reply. They didn’t understand. I could do it if I needed to.

There was only really once where I did need the off road capabilities of the car. Last autumn before catching the ferry home from France I filled in some time visiting the Normandy beaches. On one occasion I set the sat nav for one of the beaches, Gold maybe, or Omaha, and found myself driving down a farm track into a field full of sunflowers. I should have been suspicious but every farm track seemed to have a name which gave it some sense of being a real road so I figured Waze must know what it was doing.

It didn’t. I could see the beach a few hundred metres away on the screen but between me and it was nothing. My choice was reversing half a mile along a narrow, high sided Normandy farm track or going into the field and turning around. Fortunately there was around five metres around the edge of the field with no crops which was just enough for me to do a three point turn. For the Land Rover this presented no problem. 

It was good while it lasted and I have now moved on. The next step is to sell the campervans. We decided that after eight years of being in the vintage campervan rental business it had run its course. The vans are going to be sold and the business closed. 

Running a VW campervan business has been a very cool thing to do. There have been highs and lows, but mostly highs. It felt great when people would bring back a campervan and rave about the experience. Some would not want to hand the keys back and some customers return year after year. 

The lows have been the occasional breakdown but that is all about how you handle it. We would give people a full refund and fortunately our hirers were fairly phlegmatic about those situations. After all these are fifty year old vans and things could go wrong.

Overall the experience was very positive but we now feel comfortable about getting our freedom back during the summer months. The time is right.

Selling my car and deciding to sell the vans has provided a remarkable sense of release, of moving on. I’m quite excited about what the future might bring. I have some ideas about things to do and I still have project Netxis project which although it has its ups and downs as businesses do it is mostly good fun. I think I have the balance right.

In the meantime it is nearly six thirty in the morning, dawn has arrived, the birds are singing and it is time to make THG a cup of tea.

Yay it’s the weekend

Saturday, March 2nd, 2024

Yay it’s the weekend. Yay. THG has made the tea and I caught some ‘Farming Today’ on the wireless. What’s not to like. I like listening to farming today. We were all farmers, if you go back far enough so it is in our blood.

I like the idea of having a cow. Someone else would have to look after it but the fresh milk, butter and cheese it would produce would be v nice. Not sure it works like that. Even @chris Conder who has loads of cows gets her cheese and butter from a shop. Fresh milk though.

What are people up to today? After breaking the fast I plan on making a steak pie for tomorrow’s lunch. Slow cook the day before makes for a tasty pie. I make a good pie. Shop bought pastry though. THG is off to the park run.

When I were a farmer, a few hundred years ago, I’d be out mending a fence this morning. Then I’d have to fix the wheel on the cart. Nuisance that it broke. These things happen. At some stage I’d check up on the pigs. Already did the milking. Well, THG probably did that. Or the girl. Never ends. Always a job to do innit.

Handy having pigs. A plentiful supply of bacon which I like. At the moment I get it from Fosters butchers on Monks Road. My grandmother kept a pig in the sty at the bottom of the garden and the deeds of our house in Greetwell Gate said we were allowed to keep a pig. There was a sty in the back yard. It’s not there anymore. I knocked it down. Used the space more effectively. It wasn’t a big back garden.

This afternoon I have a few lads coming around to the shed. We will drink beer and talk bollocks, pardon the French. It’s what blokes do in a shed on a Saturday afternoon. One of the raisons d’etre of a shed. 

I realise that sometimes sheds are also used to store gardening equipment and I do have a pair of secateurs there that I occasionally use to trim the ivy off the fence panels around the side. A token bit of kit but this particular shed is more than just a garden store. We have another shed for that.

My shed is whatever your imagination wants it to be. At times, not that often,  it is an exercise studio. It is a global communications hub, a meeting room, an office, a recording studio and a place where I can entertain important guests and clients in a convivial environment. It might even one day be a workshop although the potting shed is a more suitable place to keep the as yet unbought lathe. I suspect I will never own a lathe. It is too far down the list of things to do with my time.

In the meantime I have breakfast to fix and a pie to make. I’m thinking maybe even rosti potato this morning. See how it goze. Ciao amigos.

A time to sit and reflect. Breakfast has been taken, as they might say in the posh country houses of yore, or even of today. I’d say I’ve had breakfast and am now sitting down with a cuppa easing into the day. All is well.

Our reasonably spacious drive is devoid of cars, THG having gone off to do her Saturday morning thing. I have time to plan.

How do you plan time? It’s quite an interesting thought. People have already put much effort into it. It’s why we have clocks. Then folk realised that our earthly time bears no relation to time anywhere else. Imagine a load of interplanetary pilots getting together on the planet Zog. Spaceships are parked up, they’ve had a few drinks and are now all coordinating the next meeting, this time on the outermost ring of the planet Xerxa in the UrsulaAndress galaxy.

What time shall we meet? It is now ten past three. No it isn’t it’s five past twenty seven! See what I mean. Every planet has different times. Someone will have suggested a solution but I don’t know what it is. I’m blowed if I’m going to adopt the Plutonian time standard. Our own earthly one is good enough, apart from the odd inconsistency such as year lengths and leap years. Hey…

In my case my time horizon reaches no further than the Paris Olympics. I have a few jaunts to plan before then – the Isle of Man and my annual trip to Antwerp. I like Antwerp although finding the right train from Brussels Midi can be a bit of a faff. Get on the wrong one and it takes a lot longer.

Thinking of driving this year. Overnight ferry from Hull to Rotterdam and then a mere hour and ten minutes in the car. I’ll probs book that over the next week or so. The ferry costs roughly the same as the train, ish.

Now banging out some tunes in the shed. Pie filling is in the oven on gas mark 2 or thereabouts. Il still very much pleuts. I don’t mind. It’s what Tilley hats are for. You might not notice but I’ve tidied up the shed a bit. Took a load of recycling to the brown bin out front. More to go but Rome wasn’t built in a day. On this basis I have another couple of centuries to get it done, assuming I am not thrown to the lions or a similarly fierce gladiator out to prove himself.

One thing I am on  notice of regarding time is getting THG’s candlesticks sorted. We bought some wood for the bases and they need affixing. Might need some more gorilla glue as I finished the last lot. Twill be done. I’ll pop out tomorrow morning. Manāna. The wood for the bases also needs cutting and the edges rounded. All in hand. Leave it with me.

Made a start on the candlesticks. Drilled holes for the candles but the bases still need cutting. Then went and chopped some kindling at the bottom of the garden but it started to rain so took shelter in the shed, natch. In between I did get the chichen curry on the go (it’s a scouse chicken).

THG has found some snooker on the box. She can sniff it out from afar. Even if the telly is not tuned in to the right channel she can hear the click of the balls on a different station. Uncanny. Radar O’Reilly has nothing on her.

This is a seniors tourney from Dublin on channel five. Not sure I’ve ever seen channel 5 on the tv before. I tell a lie. All Creatures Great and Small. Not sure about watching the telly in the middle of the afternoon. I guess it isn’t weekday daytime TV. When I were a lad, me dad and I always watched Grandstand on Saturday afternoon.

He came at ten past four

Friday, March 1st, 2024

He came at ten past four this morning. I looked at the clock when I heard the porch door open. After depositing his goods he moved on. Usual bloke. I’m not normally awake when he comes. The process of looking at the clock involves opening one eye briefly then, presumably, going back to sleep. Thassit.

Today is St David’s Day. Dydd Gwyl Dewi. Dewi Sant. As a Davies I am named after him. Our family hails from West Wales, Carmarthenshire mostly. In some parts twenty five percent of census records showed Davies as a surname. This stems from the fact that many children were named after St David and in the days before surnames were used then sons might be called Dewi ap Dewi or David son of David. David’s became Davies. There ya go.

This does make life more difficult when tracing family trees. Church records did not have surnames. Also many church records have missing periods of coverage.This is where I have faltered in my own family tree research, not really touched for ten years but due for a renewal of energy. I need to spend some time on the ground in West Wales. Soon.

Il fait orrible out there. Absolutely pelting it down. Might just as well be in Wales. Picked my car up from the menders, again, and thence to Waitrose to acquire a bean salad for lunch. Had a cawfee in the caff there.

It’s quite interesting to watch people when you are sat on your own in a caff reading the Waitrose magazine. That last bit is v sad innit. I only really picked the mag up because it is useful for lighting fires. We haven’t had a paper delivered for thirty years – using it to light the fire was one of the side benefits, especially with the Sunday Times which was an inch thick.

There was a granny and grandson combo sitting at the high table in the window. I assume she was a granny – soz if I got that wrong. The kid kept asking questions. Then a couple of women were sat in a booth discussing work stuff. Lots of paper on the table. One of them was very definitely in charge. The curious me wanted to know what they were talking about but I wasn’t so interested to make any effort to find out.  In the next booth a bloke sat there on a conference call using his laptop. Huh.

All the booths were occupied so I sat at a middle table sipping my coffee and staring at the rain. Tis a valid enough use of time. Finishing the drink I zipped up my coat, bent my head into the weather and walked to the car.

Let it be known I am now carless. I do have the use of wheels as I can borrow THG’s but I’ve decided I don’t need one meself. We as a family only need one car between us and hopefully it will encourage me to walk/cycle places, primarily to Waitrose. We live in town so I can walk to the shops/pub. The only place typically I go on business is London and I use the train so I don’t need a car for that and could always hire one from time to time if I was going somewhere other than the smoke. Trains get you most places you want to go.

I am expecting that this is the end of an era. I’ve been thinking how I can make my own small contribution to the global warming crisis and decided that not owning a car is the way ahead. I can’t see that an electric car is the way. We will at some stage also install solar panels.

I owned my first car in around 1984 or 85. It was a mini. UGC418M. Since then I’ve been through a variety of company cars and then a Jeep, a Jag and the Land Rover Defender. That’s okay.

The Defender was starting to get pricey to run, not least because the dealer charges £150 an hour labour. I am experimenting with how much we can really live on. I have expensive tastes.

Feels strangely liberating, not having a car. I was never really a car person.