Changing Clocks

Thursday. 10.55 a.m. I've been to Asda. I wanted some coloured markers, because I'm editing some of my written work, and it seemed a good way to show what I am going to cut, rather than merely scrubbing it out in black ink, so I can't read it anymore. They seem to have a fairly good stationary department. I haven't been there in a while, and when I went there last time, I was surprised by how it's changed. I think because it is under new ownership. No longer owned by the American company Walmart.

Saturday. 11.20 a.m. Well, it's sunny and bright as I write this, but it was quite nippy when I went out with Alfie around 5 a.m.

That water feature I mentioned in my last blog post (being polite calling it that.) has come into its own, (ie: some sort of use instead of being a weird shaped thing stuck in the centre of the community garden) by being a place for birds to drink and have a splash. I saw a large crow on it earlier when I was standing washing up in my kitchen. 

Sunday. 7.35 a.m. The clocks have changed. 'Spring forward', as someone has said, so you remember to set your clocks an hour forward. It was on Friday that I realized that the clocks changed. My FitBit and computers (iPad and MacBook and I suppose iPhone.) change automatically, thank goodness. I just found altering my digital watch really difficult and the date was not accurate, merely because I couldn't change it.

Yesterday afternoon I watched a film through Amazon Video, 'The Good Liar', which stars Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen. I have to say I'm something of a fan of Ian McKellen and admire his acting. He's very versatile and goes from playing such Shakespearean characters as Richard 111 through to Gandalf in 'The Lord of The Rings' trilogy to 'X Men', from sitcom in 'Vicious', to appearing in 'Coronation Street', Widow Twankey in pantomime and then Harold Pinter and then a character who has a dark and sinister past in this low key thriller. Amazing. I can say I have actually been in the same space as Ian McKellen. In the early 1970s I was an A.S.M. at the Phoenix Theatre in Leicester. As part of the wide mix of plays that were staged, not just what I'd term 'Main House', or part of the normal season, they did late-night productions. Ian McKellen came to direct a production of Tom Stoppard's hilarious one-act play 'The Real Inspector Hound', which had two other great actors in it, Derek Jacobi and Edward Hardwick, who went on to play Watson in the Granada Television series 'Sherlock Holmes.'

It was somewhat foggy when I took Alfie out at around 6.30 this morning, which was something of a surprise.

Quite a few people at church have covid, so, as a result of this, it was decided to have the morning service on Zoom today. I'm not sure I could see how it worked, having around 27 people all peering at one another on a laptop screen. I attempted to have Zoom on my Portal TV which is set up on my Hitachi HD television set, but for some reason, I couldn't get the video to work, so I transferred to my MacBook, and it worked well.

A Touch of Light and Air

Sunday. 7.45 a.m. It's sunny and bright this morning. I don't have anything of importance to relate to here, so I'll end there until something strikes me as requiring responding in some way or other.

Monday. 7.00 a.m. So . . .  Virtually nothing happened! Now, there's a surprise. So (stop saying so.) here I am, on a relatively sunny Monday morning, having been out with Alfie a few minutes before the hour of six. Actually quite chilly. His nibs was asleep in his lovely, warm and snug bed and had to be woken up to go out. I think he's back in his bed asleep as I write this.

Tuesday. 11.15 a.m. Painting has now reached the corridor where my flat is situated. A workman painted the window frame of one of the ground floor flats going towards the SHO's office. It will be an improvement to have the paintwork around here covered in brighter paint than the brown which it all has at present. This will include the stairs leading up to the first-floor flats, including mine. I will have to be careful to not touch it before it dries when I leave and enter my flat, otherwise, I will have to find something to remove the paint. Also, make sure that Alfie doesn't get paint on himself. 

Wednesday. 6.25 a.m. So, I'm up early, taken Alfie out, done the washing up (actually did it last night. I can't stand piles of dirty pots sitting in the sink. I much prefer to do it all and have a tidy kitchen when I go in there in the morning or any time of day.

Boy, it was hot in the flat yesterday evening. My digital thermometer read 75º when I looked at around 6 p.m. yesterday. Does nobody around here ever think it might be a good idea to reduce the temperature? Before you ask, I have turned the thingy on the wall down which is supposed to control the radiators. But not doing a great deal of difference. Apart from anything else, it's a real waste and not environmentally good, but nobody will listen. I had to open the windows and have my fan on in my bedroom. 

I've been to Sainsbury's,  a good deal earlier than I normally go,  which I do weekly, as you will know if you read my blog on a regular basis. They are still moving stuff around and causing havoc. I was in the frozen food area and looking for pizza subs. They have been in the same place for I don't know how long and suddenly, they're not where I expected them to be, and I had to ask a somewhat grumpy member of staff, who didn't really appreciate my ironic sense of humour regarding this matter.

Having got back home, the flat was hotter than ever. I have opened the window and as I write this (10.00 a.m.) the digital thermometer reads 72º. 

2.55 p.m. There has been a lot of digging going on in the community garden. I can see clearly what's going on when I stand at the kitchen sink and see out of the window in front of me. It's been intriguing me for most of the day. Rather like one of those mysteries, murder television series, such as Father Brown or even the inestimable Sherlock Holmes. Seeing someone digging a hole, I do start to come up with my own ideas of what it's for. For burying a body? Or rather mundane, there's a pipe under there which needs repairing. Is it a leak? As the day goes on and I have to do more washing up, I can't help but see the thing unfold. My inquisitiveness gets the best of me. Then, a few minutes ago, I saw what the 'ole was for. A piece of sculpture. I use the term in its loosest sense. It might be a water feature. But as I watch in absolute intense bemusement, I can see no water or any plumbing which might be connected to this . . . thing. I have to admit it's hideous, whatever it is. Was it leftover in one of the garden centre's sales? Did Dobbies or Frosts donate it, or did offer a substantial discount on such an ugly garden feature? It does rather resemble a modern toilet. Now, I'm just being facetious and downright sarcastic, I know, but it really is that awful. I think it best to end this before I get into trouble. But did nobody think it was really appropriate or even have any sort of artistic integrity? Who knows. But it has given me a certain amount of amusement, wondering what on earth it represents. It doesn't represent anything. It can't do, because the look of it is so odd it can't represent anything known to man or beast. Even the sculptures of  Henry Moore, which were modernist in style and somewhat strange to the average observer, did represent SOMETHING. but this thing? Definitely not. Okay, okay, I give in. As they say, 'sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but the highest form of intelligence' so I will refrain from mentioning this 'thing' from now on. Unless something amazing happens and it turns into . . .  I don't know, but it would be fun if it did. That quote from the great Oscar Wilde, so if it was good enough for him, it's definitely good enough for me.

4.30 p.m. The mystery is revealed! The 'thing' in the community garden is a water feature. I had a glance out of the window just now and it has water flowing out of it. But it looks more than ever like a urinal. Sorry, but it does. Just as well I can't hear it trickling, or it would have the effect of making me want to run to the loo and have a wee. The thing is, without doubt, the ugliest thing I have probably ever seen, and that's the truth. 

Thursday. 2.30 a.m. The temperature in the flat at the moment is 60º. I can't believe it got so hot the other day. 

7.20 a.m. It's bright and sunny but actually quite chilly. Considering how hot it was a couple of days ago, there's quite a drop of around 10º, so you can see why I would notice the difference. Apparently, according to the weather forecast on BBC Breakfast, it's due to get colder.

I just had to mention, my bathroom and the non-appointment with Mears (the company who are responsible for the maintenance of Dexter House.) Did I mention that I had emailed a local councillor about the lack of action from Mears regarding my bathroom being upgraded? I don't think I have, but my email was passed to a Campbell Park Parish councillor, who emailed me yesterday asking me to send a photograph of the state of my bathroom and that Mears should set up an appointment to have my bathroom accessed with the intention of discovering what I would like done to the bathroom (i.e.: gold taps, sauna, jacuzzi etc. In your dreams, but it's worth a go I suppose.) So it would appear that my efforts will be paying off if it means they can nudge Mears into doing SOMETHING. so, watch this space for developments.

Foggy, But Sunny

 Friday. 7.45 a.m. I've been up since well before 6 a.m. Well, that's me. The early bird catches the worm, as they say. Not that I'm a bird, of any sort, you understand. It's just a saying. Well, I'm somewhat surprised to find it's foggy out as I take Alfie out. He doesn't hang around. Does a wee on the bit of grass just outside the door in Dexter House. Then he nips back in, bold as brass, and, as I write this, he's tucked up in his bed, fast asleep. 

It's now sunny, so hopefully, the fog will have dispersed. and we'll have a bright, sunshiny day. Well, I do hope so. BBC Breakfast this morning said that next week we'd have sun and it will be a good deal warmer. Good-o!

I've just put in a load of washing. Just on 8 a.m. Oh dear, we're not supposed to put on the washing machine until dead-on 8 o'clock, otherwise, we'll get our wrists slapped. I didn't mention that I had emailed a parish councillor regarding the lack of a washing machine as well as my non-appointment regarding my upgraded (or, as I write, not.) bathroom. I have been told by Barbara, our SHO, that a new washing machine is on its way, and via another email from the parish councillor, I will have to wait between six weeks and SIX MONTHS before my bathroom can be upgraded. I can't think why, but as they say, things grind slow.

An actor I worked with when I was an A.S.M. at Colchester Repertory Theatre in the early 1970s, Jeremy Child, has died, at the age of 77. I was wondering where it was, out of all the companies I worked with. I have a feeling he was in several plays there, probably 'Private Lives', although he would probably have been in several plays there.  I have, unfortunately, no way of researching, as there's nothing online. I did, at one time, have a large box that contained programmes from most of the plays I worked on, by now, sadly, lost. Many were signed by members of the cast of many of these shows, and they might have had some sort of value, although I doubt it.

One of the flats below mine is having a new bathroom fitted today. So, why have I heard nothing regarding mine? No hint that I might have my bathroom surveyed and me being questioned as to how I want it revamped, for example, having a shower or a bath. Definitely, a bath, as there's nothing better than being able to stretch out in your bath, which I can't do at present, as the bath isn't designed for someone over six feet in height (I know, crazy, but true.) Or a shower so I can actually stand under it. The current one must have been designed for a midget (although we're probably not allowed to say 'midget' or 'dwarf' as it's probably not politically correct.)

Spring In The Air

That is metaphorically and actually. Each day that passes, it's getting lighter each morning earlier and earlier and at the same it, it's warmer. Yesterday was particularly sunny and warm.

Wednesday. 3.45 a.m. It's still and quiet on the weather front.

I have contacted Amazon regarding the missing DVD. This, via the online 'chat' function. It is the third attempt at sorting the problem. I am being sent a replacement DVD of the new, Stephen Spielberg directed 'West Side Story.' I have just this minute received an email telling me it has been dispatched and should arrive sometime today. I am still intrigued to know what happened to the first place containing a DVD. According to the Amazon website, it was 'received by the resident.' Not true. The delivery driver wasn't doing his/her job properly if that's the case. We'll wait and see what develops.

9.55 a.m. I was up early and my first outing with Alfie was around 6.20. Why hang around in bed when it's bright outside? Not sunny, but still bright. I don't think Alfie was awake when I went into the lounge to find him curled up in his bed. Never mind. I washed up from the evening before. I can't stand having dirty pots and plates in the sink, so I soon had it all done and put it away. We went out for another trot around the park at around 8.15, and then I thought I might just as well go to Sainsbury's. Go early mid-week and you avoid the crowds you would probably get on a Friday when people have been paid. Then I discovered that some bright spark had decided to rearrange the shelves in the store. I've been shopping in there for goodness knows how long, and you get used to where things are, but to suddenly find it all in different places is somewhat annoying. What is the reason for all this? No doubt they're preparing for something new in the store. I don't think I was the only customer to be somewhat lost as there were one or two others with annoyance written all over their faces. I do think if they are going to do this, they should at least have notices up telling you where the products have been moved too. Surely not much to ask. Never mind. Things will sort themselves out eventually.

1.30 p.m. There is a light rain as I write. Drizzle, I think the word to use is. It was similar to what it was like a few hours ago. Alfie doesn't like getting wet, but still wants to go out, but the moment he feels a raindrop on his back, he'll be back through the door and no doubt be curled up on either my bed or in his little nest beside the television. 

6.00 p.m. The 'West Side Story' DVD arrived at around 4.45 this afternoon! So that issue is now resolved.

There seems to be a rash of new game shows on television at the moment. BBC 1 has Pointless, which seems to be a more or less permanent fixture at 5.15 five days a week and now it's joined at 4.30 by 'Bridge of Lies', which is hosted by Ross Kemp, formerly of EastEnders. Then on BBC2 there's one I hadn't come across before called 'Lightening.' 'Eggheads moved to Channel 5 a couple of months ago and is on at exactly the same time, 6.30, that it was on when it was on BBC2. This might explain why the new kid on the block, 'Lightening' is on at the same time. Then ITV has 'The Chase' on at exactly the same time as Pointless. On ITV they have Tenable, Tipping Point and The Chase, one after the other. It really is taking it too far and totally unimaginative of ITV to just put one after the other. Why no drama in the afternoon schedules? The BBC has done rather well with their drama offerings, with Doctors doing well just after lunch, followed by such things as Father Brown and Shakespeare and Hathaway. Always good to watch that and pick out the cleaver Shakespearian connections, plot devices or character names worked into the plot. But it's a shame that BBC1 stopped showing children's programming in the 4-5 p.m. slot. I know they moved it all onto the BBC children's channels, but to just churn out endless gameshows really shows a total lack of imagination. It's obvious that game shows are cheap to produce, well, certainly when compared with drama. I presume the jackpots on Pointless (and other similar shows.) comes from the Television licence. As for ITV, it's just the slippery slope really, more dumbing down. Some questions on, for example, Tipping Point, are just plain embarrassingly easy, such as 'what colour is grass, or the sky?' Not really going to challenge a child for more than five or six really, or is that how they see their daytime audience? A lot of toddlers? Now, one doesn't expect Open University type programming (No, not like the 1970s lectures which were broadcast at nighttime for students.) Probably produced just up the road, here in Milton Keynes. But come on, at least have more difficult questions.

Eventful Afternoon . . .

Friday. 8.40 a.m. I was up out of bed and out with Alfie by around 5.45 this morning. It's getting lighter and lighter each morning, so what excuse do I have? No use lounging around in bed. I have never been one to waste the day and can always find something to do with my time. It's particularly sunny and bright at the moment, although, as I write this, the sun has gone in, there's no sign of rain or wind, thankfully.

11.30 a.m. I've been to get my hair cut at Central Barbers. I always feel a good deal better once I've had a haircut. Just looks better and takes around 10 years off my age.

It's still quite mild. Fortunately, no rain, but it's still bright but not overly sunny.

Saturday. 3.25 p.m. Oh, dear! I feel really stupid. Well, you can agree if you want to. I don't care one way or the other. I had decided I would make another batch of chocolate cookies. The last ones weren't a great success. I hadn't taken into account the fact that they would spread out during cooking, so the batch came out of the oven a more or less one big cookie, but I did manage to cut them up into individual cookies. I went to Aldi this morning and bought some additional ingredients and set to with weighing out everything. I have to sort the kitchen out before I start as there is very little space and work surfaces are at a premium. I managed to get to the dough stage and put it into two metal trays. Then I had to sort out the oven, as the temperature isn't easy to set. I have an oven thermometer which I put in the oven, but then I found that the markings on the control knob have worn off, so it's even more of a guess when it comes to setting the oven. After the recommended twenty minutes, I checked the oven, but the cookies weren't cooked. They were still raw dough, so I put them in for a second bake. But I think I set the oven too hot and, as a result, after twenty minutes, there was smoke coming out of the oven when I opened the door. As a result, it set off the fire alarms, which went off throughout Dexter House. So, it was my turn to set the alarm off. I took Alfie out and after a few minutes, I heard a fire engine coming from the sound of its siren. I have to say I felt somewhat responsible for wasting their time. I went in through the main entrance with the lead fireman who came into my flat and told me to open the windows, which I did, and the breeze eventually dispersed the smoke and after a couple more minutes, the alarm stopped. That is the final attempt at cookie-making, as I don't want a repetition of this afternoon's events. Then, ten minutes later, a lady knocked on my door from the emergency alarm company to find out if I was alright, which I was, It just goes to show that we have all the facilities available here in case we have either a fall or a fire. Not really my favourite way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Sunday. 6.45 a.m. I ordered a DVD from Amazon on Friday. The new Stephen Spielberg version of 'West Side Story.' It was due to be delivered yesterday, before 10 p.m., or, at least, that was what the website told me, which tells you such things, so you can track a parcel's delivery. I had hoped to watch the film yesterday evening, and I waited in expectation of its arrival. I have had a look on the website once more, and it tells me that it has been handed to the recipient. Well, no it hasn't. I have not received it. So, I have to ask where on earth is it? Someone isn't doing their job properly. So I will have to do some investigations and discover its whereabouts. These delivery drivers don't read the address labels properly and if they don't know where the correct address is, it seems they post them through the nearest letterbox, just to get rid of them. Just laziness on their part.

On the way to church this morning, I drove towards Chaffron Way as I usually do and then left at the junction, coming out of Strudwick Drive and then I got to the roundabout which intersects with Saxon Street and discovered that I couldn't double back on myself as I would normally because it was coned off because of a running race/marathon. I was totally unaware of this and had to drive towards the centre of Milton Keynes and then along Childs Way to get to Shenley. Never mind. It was a bit of an inconvenience, but also quite a pleasant journey in the spring sunshine.

5.25 p.m. Alfie and I have been watching Crufts on Channel 4 this afternoon. I attempted to get a photograph of his nibs actually watching, and it wasn't easy (results, although not brilliant, on Facebook.) I had to entice him onto my knee with treats so that he would be in some sort of position to look in the direction of the screen, but he wasn't playing along. Carol and I went around 14 years ago, and we saw the agility being done by small dogs, especially Yorkshire Terriers, and it was this which lead to us getting Alfie. Carol was involved in an accident in her car, the Hyundai Matrix which she had at the time we first met. She was driving along Watling Street and if I remember right, taking Sam to school. I'm not sure if she'd just dropped him off, but she was approaching the roundabout which intersects with Childs Way and there was a queue of a few cars waiting to get onto the roundabout when the car was hit from behind by another car which didn't slow down in time. The force of the collision forced the Hyundai to collide forcibly with the car in front, to such an extent that the Hyundai got caught on the tow ball on the first car. Carol received a whiplash injury, and it took the emergency services quite a while to detatch our car from the car in front. I had just finished with one of my home care calls and had just come out of Beanhill and onto Saxon Street when my mobile rang and I pulled into a lay-by to take the call (bearing in mind that this was during the busy rush hour and the road was nose-to-tail up to the roundabout at Standing Way.) It was Carol saying she had been in a car accident and that she was at the A and E Department of Milton Keynes Hospital. I immediately drove there (not far from where I was at the time of the phone call.) and got there relatively quickly, although the traffic was heavy. This was bought to mind because we had to have a courtesy car when the Hyundai went to be repaired as a result of the collision and we had the use of a Ford Focus which I got to drive and we drove in it to Crufts and then when we went on holiday to Yorkshire. Just shows how something like that incident can spark a memory.

Even More Things Getting Slightly More Undecidedly Sticky, But Only, Possibly, A Little Bit, But Even More Undecidedly Unpleasant. Possibly, Maybe, or There again, maybe not

The world has gone mad. A Prime Minister has to deny whether he was at a drinks party at 10 Downing Street during lockdown (whether it was illegal under the rules and regulations is neither here nor there.) Meanwhile, the Russian President, Putin, has sent troops to the border with Ukraine and is threatening to invade. There is an American President who doesn't seem entirely with it, looking for all the world as if he's in the early stage of dementia. If you thought Regan was unfit to hold office as President of the most powerful country in the known world,  Joe Biden seems not to be exactly 100% with it, mentally and physically. No wonder Putin thought he could get away with invading Ukraine when the West was looking in the opposite direction. It all seems like the plot of some sort of comedy, but actually, it's not particularly funny when we now learn that Putin is possibly intending to use chemical weapons and even nuclear weapons. Possibly in an attempt to draw the West into a war that will have consequences which it's difficult to comprehend. Jim Hacker, the Prime Minister in the BBC sitcom 'Yes Prime Minister', might have had problems with our current situation and Sir Humphrey Appleby would have delighted in explaining the situation in his long, convoluted diatribes, tying  everyone, including himself, 

Is the pandemic over? It's difficult to say. The crazy rules and regulations have been removed. We don't need to social distance or wear face coverings. There are still people who wear masks, usually when I'm outside. I want to ask why? If you're out in the fresh air and there's no one else around, why bother with a face mask? Nasty things. There's no proof they actually work. Having one on for any length of time makes me ill. Breathing in your own breath isn't good for you. There is now virtually nothing about the virus on television news. The BBC hasn't had a report on anything to do with the pandemic in weeks, or so it seems. They are more concerned about the Ukrainian war. Peddling fear and anxiety. The pandemic seems to have melted into the background. 

Why didn't The West realize earlier what Putin was planning to do? Would our intelligence services have picked up some hint of things going on in Russia? Don't we have some sort of system which monitors the goings-on in Russia and other countries which can be thought of a threat to democracy? Were we too focussed on the pandemic? I think only time will tell and probably when more comes to light as the years pass. 

Then, on top of the pandemic to make us feel frightened, we have climate change. The scientists are making us feel guilty if we eat meat, drive a car, light our log burner and generally produce carbon and let it into the atmosphere. This thing about cattle and other herbivores we may eat producing gasses that are supposed to deplete the ozone layer is rather lazy. They aren't the only animals that create these gasses. How about the herds of animals that roam the African savannah? Antelopes? Elephants? What about HUMANS? Don't we create these gasses? It's all a bit dumb if you ask me? (but please don't.)

Then there's the hypocrisy of these scientists, politicians and others who went to the  COP 26 Climate Change Conference in Glasgow last October and travelled there by plane, car and other forms of transport which give off large amounts of carbon. 

Friday. 8.45 a.m. It's exactly two years since the WHO (World Health Organisation.) announced that we were in a pandemic, due to the coronavirus. Seems like we've lost two years of our lives, hiding away, being ordered about by people who had no real authority (ie; unelected scientists.), making people frightened, destroying businesses, causing disruption to children's eduction, cancelling NHS appointments, people going without their cancer treatment, mental health going through the room, relationships being destroyed. I could go on, but I won't. Was it really worth it? It 'save the NHS from being overwhelmed,'? Probably not.

Busy, Busy, Busy!

3.15 p.m. I have been walking Alfie around Oldbrook Green this afternoon, as usual. I got a flash of inspiration for my writing, which is often what happens as I walk. I think my mind can wander, and I'm sort of inspired by being outside. I think Carol would be pleased that I've moved forward with this writing.

Furthermore, I got on with my writing since I got the sudden spurt of inspiration, and it's probably better to get it down on paper before it evaporates and gets lost, which would be a pity.

Tuesday. 7.00 a.m. I have a perfect idea for my writing. I just need to get on and get on with writing.

On BBC Breakfast this morning, the weather forecast said that the temperature in Milton Keynes is likely to be 14 C this week. It's mild at the moment, so I don't see why it should reach that temperature. It is getting more spring-like as the days pass.

I went to Sainsbury's as I usually do once I get my pension. I had come back with my trolley laden with groceries and put it all in the car when a car drew up with the intention of parking in one of the vacant spaces a few spaces along from where I was. Now, you would think it's quite easy to park in space by merely driving in forward, which would then make it easier to load your shopping into the back of your vehicle, which I had done. But no, this driver spent around five minutes attempting to reverse into the space and making what I can only describe as a pig's breakfast of it. Why make your life difficult when there's an easier way to do something. Several attempts and even more attempts at various angles and the car was parked. But it was amusing, to me at least. Making a mountain out of a molehill. What with pigs' breakfasts? Why do we say such stupid things? Have you ever seen an actual pig having breakfast? What's wrong with them if they . . . don't go right? Or words to that effect. I love to learn about the background of certain idioms. 

It looks to me as if Sainsbury's is going to change the layout of the store. I noticed numerous signs up saying that new products are about to be on the shelves, or words to that effect. The café has been closed for some time now, at least since the pandemic started. It seems to have become a storage area for stock before it gets put on the shelves. A pity it's closed, as it was great to be able to have a coffee or cup of tea and a sandwich when I had done my shopping. I have heard that they are planning to close around 200 of their cafés and turning them into Starbucks coffee shops. I'll be perfectly honest and say that their cafés were never up to much, so I don't think they'll be missed. I just wonder if the Witan Gate branch which I shop at will have a Starbucks within it. It seems an odd position to have it, at the rear of the store. It should really be at the front, where the flowers and plants are at the moment. You have to walk the length of the store to get to the (now closed) café.

Glen Miller, Ukraine Invasion, Carol's Birthday and other matters

Thursday. 6.10 p.m. I've been to my second talk given by a gentleman from Bedford, who is a local history guide, and his talk was about Glen Miller and Bedford. I had a sort of connection with this because around 30 years ago, when I did a lot of temp work, I used to work as a general assistant in several local firm's canteens, one of them being for Charles Wells brewery in Queens Park, Bedford. The canteen was in what remained of the gas works before it was the brewery and known as the Co-Partners Hall and I discovered that it was used by the BBC as a rehearsal space when they were evacuated to Bedford during the Second World War, and in particular, used by Glen Miller's orchestra. I had been working with a television producer as we attempted to get a project off the ground. He had contacts at Anglia Television and I thought he might be interested in some sort of project, based on Glen Miller and Bedford. This was in the days when Anglia was a single company, when it was possible to get an idea up and running by pitching directly to an individual ITV company, In the days when ITV was run as a federated organization and well before what it would become in the early 2000s when it merged into one conglomerate. As it turned out, it never got beyond being just an idea, but a few years later, much to my annoyance, a documentary was produced, I think, by TVAM, the first breakfast television franchise, and produced, and I think fronted by Margaret Thatcher's daughter, Carol Thatcher.

Saturday. 7.15 a.m. I awoke late this morning, so Alfie was taken somewhat by surprise when I took him out. I think he was probably still asleep before I went to take him out. It was bright daylight, but still chilly. Sort of raining, but that thin drizzly sort today and yesterday. 

As I write this, I can hear the wind whistling around the building outside (well, I just hope it's outside.) Please, no more of that awful wind we had a week or two ago. It was just dreadful.

Sunday. 7.00 a.m. It's very quiet this morning. No wind, or if there is, it's very minimal. It's dry, but it's muddy underfoot.

Monday. 7.05 a.m. Today would have been my lovely Carol's 58th birthday. I'm just getting on with my life, but I'm sure she would be pleased by how I have moved on and doing stuff which I didn't think I would be if she was still around. She left a huge legacy when I think of the number of kids who got their GCSEs and A-Levels and those who went on to university. 

I have quite a lot of Carol's clothes left here in my flat, especially jackets, blankets and so on. I had been considering giving them to any charity which would like them and use them. Then we had news of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, so I thought of it all going there for any of the refugees I keep seeing on television news. I asked Ross at church if he had any idea of a charity that could have it all. He sent me a text later, and I have the address and have already packed up some clothing and will take it all later this morning.

8.00 a.m. I now have two bags of stuff to take to the pick-up point for charity to take stuff to Ukraine. I will take it later. I don't see the point of it sitting here doing nothing when it could be used by those in need. It now in the back of my car ready to take.

10.35 a.m. I drove across Milton Keynes to find the unit where they were collecting stuff for Ukraine refugees. I find the right area but had to go round the back of the unit to find where they were sorting and loading into a huge HGV which was parked in the road outside. They don't unfortunately want any more clothing but want medical supplies. I will now have to find another charity to give my things to, so the two bin bags will have to be stored in my flat until they find another home. They can go in the bottom of the airing cupboard in my bathroom, as there's plenty of space in there. A wasted space, actually. Why do modern homes still have airing cupboards? What is the point of them? What is 'airing' supposed to mean in this context? I ask, because, surely, being enclosed in a cupboard isn't exactly AIRING clothes. Having them hanging on a clothesline outside is airing, surely? It's therefore a misnomer. And to my way of thinking a waste of space.

Sunny and bright this morning. No end of bulbs coming out, trees with buds on them, blossom and daffodils appearing along the roadside as I drove across Milton Keynes this morning.

Things Actually Getting Somewhat Slightly Worse (Probably A Little Bit, But Not Sure) Might be, Not Making My Mind Up, In fact, probably can't decide

Oh dear! We have a war raging in Ukraine, but Mr Putin doesn't call it a war, or an invasion. So, what is it? A jolly boy's outing? On  a serious note, it all sounds to much like what happened in Europe in 1938 and then lead to Germany invading Poland in September 1939 which then lead to war being declared and the start of World War Two.

I can remember The Cuban Missile Crisis which was in 1962. It was more or less exactly over the period of my birthday, which is 22nd October and seeing an episode of Panorama, which mentioned how close to nuclear war we came over the matter of nuclear weapons being stationed on the island of Cuba and being more or less terrified that we were all going to be annihilated in a nuclear war. Those were the days when you were never told what the significance of such things were, and if you were a child (I would have been around 12-13.) it wasn't something you would discuss with a child. Are we in a similar situation, regarding the situation in Ukraine, in particular as Putin has said he has put out a nuclear alert. Is he just bluffing (one likes to think so.), a distraction from what is going on with his troops in Ukraine? Only time will tell. Well, anyway, in my childish mind in 1962, it would have been scary. There was certainly quite a lot going on at the time for me, what with that awful winter of 1962-63, having my appendix out and in 1963, seeing the first episode of a new children's science fiction television series (actually, to be more accurate, it was a fantasy show.) about a time-travelling gentleman and his granddaughter, the show being 'Doctor Who.' Who (sorry, pun warning.) would have imagined that it would still be going strong (well, reasonably, regardless of falling audience ratings.) sixty years later? Aimed specifically at my then age group and so amazingly different from what else was aimed at children at the time. 

Wednesday. 4.15 a.m. I had BBC news on yesterday evening and there was footage of Russian attacks on buildings in Kyiv and, quite frankly, it was nothing but aggression. Why destroy buildings like this? Many Ukrainians are being brutally murdered, regardless of what Putin is saying. It was quite horrifying, and we can see such footage in our living rooms, without any sort of editing, which makes it more horrifying. I had to switch to another channel as it was too much. That might sound pathetic, but I think we need to stand back and take a different approach, not helped by being stuck in a room on my own. Just heart-rending. 

2.15 p.m. The excitement is too much! They are laying new carpet in the lounge here at Dexter House. I think I ought to lay down and rest, it's too much to take! They've been working on it for a couple of days now. Nothing very exciting about the colour. Just boring. The same as the newly-painted walls. A sort of washed-out lavender colour (if the colour lavender isn't washed out enough, to begin with. Now, now, Murdoch, don't hyperventilate! It's just a shock that it's actually happening. It's been in the works for months.

By the way, what's happened to the lady cleaner who does the common areas around here? I mean, the corridors and some of the rooms we are allowed to inhabit? Is she ill? Is she on holiday? She hasn't been seen for at least a week.

I've taken Alfie out, but, because it's raining, not heavily, but making the ground wet nevertheless. He didn't want to go far, so we didn't do our usual tour of Oldbrook Green.

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest . . . I mean, Dexter House. We still have only one operational washing machine. The old one which was taken out is still sitting in its place at the entrance. When will it be replaced? The one that is left isn't working particularly well, and I reckon is on its final legs (or however you want to describe it.) It has bits falling off it, for example, the front panel of the drawer you are supposed to use for detergent. I never use it as I use gel capsules that go directly into the drum before doing any washing. If we have to put up with this breaking down as well, where are we supposed to wash our clothes? I have no idea where the nearest laundrette is, just in case. Perhaps we should get washboard and take our laundry down to the canal or the river and wash it there . . . How slow the powers that be can be knows no bounds. A bit like fiddling whilst Rome burns. 

Things Can Only Get Better!

Monday. 7.30 a.m. It's still and calms on the weather front. It's not particularly warm, but there's no wind blowing, as is it was this time last week. I am going back to IKEA to get a second recycling bin to match the one I purchased yesterday and will be to separate glass for recycling. At least I can get rid of the horrible old cardboard box which served as my recycling bin. Not exactly the best thing for the job and now gone.

Yes, things can only great better, especially now we don't have to endure endless days of lockdown, but now we have to contend with Vladimir Putin's sabre-rattling in Ukraine. Let's just hope and pray that it doesn't escalate into something worse.

12.45 p.m. I've been back to IKEA and bought a second recycling bin, which is for glass. I have seen some LED strip lighting, which I think I'll buy at some point in the future. It can be stuck on surfaces, and I'm sure it would add a certain bit of style to an otherwise rather boring room. Also, some really brilliant hanging lights remind me of the Death Star in Star Wars (Darth Vader's hideout.). They have pull cords that you pull (now, there's a surprise!) and the sections open out. I'm not sure if I got one, it would work in this flat as you really need high ceilings. Whatever the height of the ceilings, I just love them and are so imaginative. 

I'm watching a documentary on Channel Five about the winter of 1962-63 which I remember well. I would have been about 12 in 1963, the year I had my appendix out and spent a lot of time in what was the children's ward of Bedford Hospital. I was supposed to have been operated on around Christmas that year but somehow or other it was bought forward, so I could be home for the festive season, thankfully. The surgeon who did the operation was Peter Lacey, who was a shooting friend of my father, so perhaps that was how the date was changed. Quite handy when you have the surgeon as a family friend. I know he used to come for tea and other meals, and I think one of his sons went to my school. The actual scar in my abdomen is very small (no, I have absolutely no intention of showing it off, thank you very much.) only a couple of inches, and it's very neat, compared with those of other people I've seen with them. It just shows what a good surgeon he was. I don't remember much about it, other than I was in that hospital ward for a few days and then was sent home.

As for the 'Big Freeze', it caused a lot of problems on the farm, and we had to feed the cattle out in the fields which were covered in snow, taking bales of hay out to them and, because my father grew Brussell sprouts on the farm, having to keep pigeons off them in the fields. I feel sorry for the pickers who had to work in really awful conditions to have bags of them ready to take to Smithfield market to be sold, going on a lorry which came each evening from a company called Bennett and Hawes.

At school, the playground was covered with snow which froze and thawed as the winter progressed. We had to clear this snow, as it was difficult to walk across easily. The shovelled snow and ice was heaped at one end of the playground against a wall, which made the wall lean dangerously as the freeze continued.  I cannot imagine today's schoolchildren even being ALLOWED to help with such jobs as shovelling snow. They would moan about being made to work or claim it was against their 'human rights.' Also, there would be something mentioned about our dear old friend 'health and safety.'