Funny Sunny

 Monday. 7.40 a.m. It's sunny but a good deal cooler this morning. My digital thermometer currently reads 22ºc.

I woke up a good deal later than usual. I can't think why, but I do feel refreshed.

Wednesday. 11.10 a.m. I've been to Sainsbury's. I have mentioned this before, but they've been moving stuff around yet again. You get used to where things are, then somebody thinks it's a great idea to move everything around. So, the result is, you get frustrated and spend most of your time going up and down the aisles hunting like crazy.

5.05 p.m. Oldbrook Boulevard is currently being resurfaced. I was aware of a 'Road Closed' sign up at the junction with Chaffron Way the other day, on my way to church on Sunday morning, but I wasn't sure what it was referring to. Then, this morning, on my way to Sainsbury's, there was a sign saying 'road closed' but it was somewhat ambiguous, as it was for the right-hand turn into Oldbrook Boulevard. The left-hand direction had already been resurfaced. The surface is far better now and a vast improvement on the rather poor surface, full of potholes and uneven.

Saturday. 10.30 a.m. I went to Lidl this morning because I didn't have anything for this evening's meal. It's only a short journey along Oldbrook Boulevard, and I can get in and out quickly. I am getting used to their self-service tills and used the Lidl app on my phone, although I almost left it behind, on the machine, except a vigilant member of staff waved it at me before I went out the door. 

There is light rain this morning. It is needed because everything is so dry. The digital thermometer currently reads 25ºc.

Sunday. 7.45 a.m. The digital thermometer currently reads 23ºc, meaning it's much cooler and sleeping is better.

Tuesday. 10.30 a.m. I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday, both metaphorically and physically, at lunchtime. I always have a snack around 11-11.30, usually toast, with cheese, peanut butter, jam or something else, with yoghurt, an apple and crisps. I made the toast in the toaster and chopped up the cheese on my chopping board, on the top of the oven, which has a ceramic hob, so, when switched off, makes an extra surface to work on, which is somewhat limited in my tiny kitchen. I went into the lounge to watch television and ate my snack. For whatever reason, I went back into the kitchen, having finished watching television. I was aware of smoke and a smell which I didn't recognise, and then saw that the chopping board and knife were melting on the ring, which was on. They both have elements of plastic in them; the chopping board is completely made of plastic, and the handle of the knife is plastic. Somehow or other, the ring had come on, probably by my accidentally touching the control knob on the front of the oven. There was a considerable amount of molten plastic on the surface of the ceramic hob. I thought immediately to switch off the oven. It was at this point that the fire alarm went off. The kitchen was by now full of smoke, which would have been what set off the fire alarm. Around five minutes or so a fire engine arrived outside in the street, and several minutes later, three firemen came into my flat. I showed them what had happened, and they opened all the windows. They could see that there was no fire and told me I could evacuate the flat, and so I took Alfie with me. 

I sat in the entrance area of Dexter House. There was no SHO on duty, so there was nobody to support me at this time. One of the other residents offered me a cup of tea, so we went to her flat, which is along the other corridor to my flat. It allowed me to reflect on what had happened. I could not remain in the flat while it was full of possibly toxic fumes. I had Alfie with me, and he must have wondered what on earth was going on. After drinking my tea, I thanked the lady and decided to return to my flat. The fumes had dispersed, and I looked at the damage to the knife, which was melted and totally unusable, as well as the cutting board, which had a large hole melted right through, and was also unusable.

Thursday. 8.20 a.m. Yesterday, late, our SHO at Dexter House phoned me, because she had seen an email regarding the situation in my kitchen. She said, perhaps the best solution to preventing a similar incident from happening with the oven would be to turn it off at the wall socket, which makes sense, and, as a result, I have switched it off at the wall socket.

Another Day, Another Dawn

 Saturday. 10.55 a.m. It's hotter than ever. The digital thermometer currently reads 29ºc.

We have had workmen in Dexter House for the past week. So, as a result, there's a great deal of noise, the usual banging and scraping and the high-pitched noise of machinery. They are taking out windows along the corridor. Apparently, they are replacing the windows with glass that is fireproof, or so I understand. Bringing the place in line with current building regulations, no doubt brought in after the Grenfell Tower fire, which killed many of the occupants.

Sunday. 7.15 a.m. It's a good deal cooler this morning. The digital thermometer currently reads 26ºc.

I woke up later than usual. I'm sleeping much better. I'm on sertraline, so I think that is why.

Monday. 5.45 a.m. Still cooler this morning. My thermometer reads 24ºc.

I've done some research online regarding sertraline. One of the side effects would appear to be related to heat regulation,  which then leads to skin irritation, so that explains things.

Friday. 6.20 a.m. For the past couple of nights, Alfie has slept on the floor. The night before last he was on the floor in the hallway, which is between the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. He has started to make funny little noises, sort of, as if he's moaning and muttering to himself. (I know that sounds unlikely, but it seems like it to me.) This sound kept me awake, so I at last decided that I'd pick him up and put him in his nice, sort, comfortable bed, which I did. Last night, he lay in the bedroom doorway, making it difficult to get in without treading on him. I woke this morning and couldn't find him anywhere, until I found him under the coffee table in the lounge! Why there, I have no idea, but fortunately, he came out without my having to extract him; otherwise, he would have been stuck.

Tuesday was Alfie's 18th birthday. I can't believe he's still going strong, although a bit wobbly on his feet, but not astounding considering his age. We got Alfie as a result of going to Crufts, which would have been the year Carol and I got married. We saw a Yorkie doing agility, which was brilliant, and it was shown on television. Carol said, 'Shall we get one?' and I said 'Yes!' and we found a breeder around March, in Cambridgeshire, and we drove to have a look at a litter of puppies, and that's how we came to get Alfie. As a young puppy, he really was tiny and easily fitted into a hat that Carol was wearing.

8.25 a.m. It's bright and sunny, and the digital thermometer currently reads 28ºc.

Saturday. 7.30 a.m. An overcast morning. When I ventured out with Alfie earlier, there was a thin sort of rain. There is the possibility of torrential rain and thunderstorms later in the day, and the possibility of flash floods.

The digital thermometer currently reads 26ºc.

11.55 a.m. There has been an amber warning because of the rain. What began earlier as thin drizzle has now become a good deal heavier. There is now a warning about the possibility of flash floods

Sunday. 7.35 a.m. A definite change in the weather this morning. It's raining quite heavily. As a result, there is a large puddle along the side of Strudwick Drive, and it has to be, because the roads in Milton Keynes weren't constructed with cambers, meaning water can't flow off as it should. Also, drains have got blocked with debris, meaning that there's more of a buildup of water. If the Romans could build their roads with cambers, why can't modern road builders do the same?

Life At Home- Part 2

 My mother had a drawer in the kitchen for all manner of odds and ends. Offcuts of string, paper bags, brown paper, and elastic bands. You name it, if it could be rescued and saved, it went in this drawer.  Many items you bought often came wrapped in brown paper and tightly tied with string. We had to go to Braggins, the main department store in Bedford, to buy our school uniforms. 'Ovr Boys' was over the front of the shop, on the corner of Harpur Street and Silver Street. Why the name had a V in it I could never discover. Braggins had a fascinating system of tubes and, I presume, compressed air, which was used to send cash and receipts for things bought to the cash office, hidden in the bowels of the store. This was long before computers, bar codes and all the modern conveniences we now take for granted, but as a young boy, this system intrigued me. The shop assistant put whatever it was in a capsule sort of thing, which then fitted in the lower end of the tube. The thing was closed up, a button was pressed, and there was a whoosh noise, and the capsule was gone. I have no idea how they managed to send it to the right place in the store, but it really interested me, and it made shopping for boring school uniforms far more fun.

I digress. Returning to my mother's oddments drawer, I never knew her to actually use any of those oddments. Perhaps she did, but I never saw her go to the drawer for any of those bits and pieces. I think this may have been a sort of throwback to the Second World War, which she lived through, when there was a 'make do and mend' culture. Everything was saved, even the least important things, such as ends of string, brown paper and so on. When I think, I was born barely five years after the end of the war, so I suppose it's not surprising.

People did reuse things and had their clothes repaired.  I remember a lady used to come to the house every week to do mending, darning socks, jumpers, turning up trousers and so on. Her name was Miss Fuller, and she lived in a cottage right next to the garden of Malting Farm. She then started taking my younger brother, Andrew, out in his pram when he was a baby. He was born in 1961. Then, her work doing the ending got less and less, and she spent more and more time looking after baby Andrew. She was always 'Miss Fuller' and I never discovered her first name. It was the same with the two ladies who used to come into the house, to clean and do domestic jobs, Mrs Jakes and Mrs Fremantle. Mrs Freemantle lived in a cottage at the rear of Malting Farm house and was married to Bob, who was a ploughman on the farm. Mrs Jakes lived with her husband in a cottage which was possibly the last cottage, going out of the village, going towards Bedford. 

Malting Farmhouse was large. As I have already mentioned, it was old. Being owned by the Whitbread Estate, they were responsible for the maintenance of the place, and at one point, when we lived there, the roof had to be partially replaced. There was a traditional-pitched roof, but also a flat section, which ran across the front of the house and out into a semicircular area near the garden. This was made of lead, and it was replaced, no doubt at vast expense. 

There were two attic rooms at the top of the house (where attics are usually located), which we used as playrooms. My older brothers had a train set, which I believe came from a cousin, but I can't be sure of that fact. It meant we could play up there and away from everyone else in the house, but as a child, I found it somewhat scary, because there were a couple of doors which appeared to lead to nowhere in particular. A lot of ancient stuff was stored in a small room, such as paintings, ancient sports equipment and elderly suitcases, which probably hadn't been used in decades. The narrow and steep staircase to access the attic rooms could be tricky to ascend.  There were good views of the village from the windows and, if you were so inclined, you could go out onto the flat roof and walk around, but it was rather dangerous, because the parapet was very low and it would be quite easy to fall over the edge.

The house was large, and it was a great place to have games, such as hide and seek. There were no end of strange, secret places to hide, and you could spend hours hunting for someone who had hidden.

We used the dining room as the central room to watch television and generally relax in. In the early 1960s, my father bought a black-and-white television. In those days, television was in black and white and on 405 lines. Later, around 1964-5, BBC2 opened and was broadcast on 625 lines, meaning, if you wanted to watch it, you needed a set capable of viewing in the new 625 format. My dad eventually bought such a set, I think the brand was KB, nothing like a modern set, large, with most of the works underneath the screen, and to watch BBC2, you had to push over a switch, but I don't think we watched it much. In around 1970, the BBC and ITV introduced colour, but my father wouldn't commit to it until a good deal later. The first colour programmes were experimental in some way, and in 1967 the BBC broadcast Wimbledon in colour. I remember seeing it for the first time when I was taken on a school visit to the Robinson Rentals offices in Bedford (later to become Granada Rental) and saw colour television then, but I have to say, I wasn't over impressed by the quality.

Life At Home- Part 1

 I was thinking about when I was younger and living at home with my parents. I must have mentioned before on this blog that I lived on a farm in Cardington. Malting Farm, to be exact. We were tenants of the Whitbread Estate. Malting Farmhouse was a large Georgian house, built in 1764. It is red brick, with windows that have diamond panes. Some of the windows had been bricked up back in the 18th century, or thereabouts, probably because of the window tax, which was introduced during that period. I think the more windows you had, the more tax you had to pay, so people blocked up windows to avoid paying more tax. There was no double glazing or central heating. In the winter, when you got up in the morning, you would invariably find thick ice on the inside of the windows. The upstairs rooms were connected to one another, so you had to go through one room to get to another. My bedroom, which I shared with my younger brother, had three doors, so it wasn't exactly private. A corridor was added, both upstairs and downstairs, at a much later date. To get dressed in the morning to go to school, we had to run along the corridor to the bathroom and turn on the electric wall heater. This was the only source of heating in the winter in that room. Downstairs in the kitchen, there was an Aga, which was fired with a coal-like substance, which came in sort of nut-shaped lozenges. This Aga had to be kept alight, as it not only heated the water (although there was an immersion tank in the bathroom) but was used for cooking. There was a coal/wood-burning stove in the dining room, which was actually used as the main room where we used to watch television and as a family centre. There were other fireplaces in the other rooms, but they were rarely used. 

Thinking about it, we had all we needed in some respects. Being a farm, we had milking cows, providing milk, potatoes, grown to be sold at Covent Garden Market, Brussels sprouts, similarly grown for sale, and in garden of Malting Farm, a whole range of fruit and vegetables, apples, plums, pears, gooseberries, raspberries, strawberries as well as lettuce, onions and in season, celery and rhubarb. My mum did shop for other household items, at a grocer's in Bedford called West's and later, at a store off Cardington Road, called D and A (that may be wrong.) This was well before supermarkets, such as Tesco or Sainsbury's, but she also went into Bedford centre and went to International Stores in the High Street as well as Saxby's, which did pork pies and sausages.

 Dad was friends with a man who was a butcher, Dick Woods. He had greyhounds, similar to Dad. They used to take their greyhounds coursing, and one of  Dad's won a race at White City. Dick Woods owned and ran a butcher's shop in Harrowden Road, and we bought our meat from him. Often it would be delivered by van, and often he would drop in for coffee or around 4 o'clock when we had tea and at times bring sausages which he made himself. It rather makes me think of Jones the butcher in Dad's Army, who was renowned for giving extra bits of meat or sausages to his regular customers, which was actually probably illegal and against the wartime rationing regulations.

Teatime was, as I have said, around 4 o'clock and my mother produced her best cakes, especially her speciality, shortbread. I think it was passed down to her from my father's side of the family. I believe it is a Scottish tradition, which would be right, because my father's family came from Scotland. It was at this time that there were visitors who just happened to call in at the right time, to be invited for a cup of tea, a piece of cake and a chat. Many of those who came to tea would be reps for the various companies that did business with the farm. 

Earlier in the day, around 11 o'clock, would be coffee time. My mother had a coffee percolator, which sat on the fridge. I don't think you can buy these gadgets today. It was probably made by Russell Hobbs. You put ground coffee into a metal sieve-like container within the percolator and filled the thing with water, and as it boiled, the water came up through a pipe and percolated through the coffee grounds, and the hot coffee was contained in a separate compartment. The outer body was made of ceramic, and it had a clear glass lid through which you could see the coffee percolating. I probably took about 15 minutes to brew a cup of coffee.

Happy Days Are Here Again

Monday. 4.05 p.m. It's been a good deal cooler today, although Carol Kirkwood, the weather lady on BBC Breakfast this morning, said that we can expect another heatwave by next week. The digital thermometer currently reads 24ºc, so considerably lower than this time last week.

Tuesday. 7.40 a.m. It's a sunny morning, although it appears to be a good deal cooler of late. The digital thermometer currently reads 22ºc.

12.00 p.m.I use Nivea for Men shaving gel. I have used it for a good many years now. Compared to similar products, it is far better, and you get a good foam from a very small amount. The other day, I went to Sainsbury's to buy a new pack, as the current one was about to run out. On attempting to use the new pack, I could not get it to work. The button on the top of the pack was faulty, and, as a result, no get would come out. I was then forced to shave using Avon shaving gel, which I wasn't entirely pleased with, as it was cheap and not up to the job. I have since been back to Sainsbury's and purchased a new pack, which has worked properly. I have to say, in all the years I have been using this product, I have never had a problem of any sort. I had only managed to pick up a faulty one when I went to the store.

Wednesday. 12.00 p.m. I have been watching a documentary on Netflix, called 'London: Hunting the 7/7 Bombers.' Quite horrifying, and it goes into an enormous amount of detail of how the young men responsible were discovered, although they died at the scene of each incident. The forensics then had to sift through the evidence to find out what material was used in the making of each bomb. This led to a neighbourhood in Yorkshire, and eventually, the names of the three men were discovered.

At the same time as I've been watching that documentary series (and I have yet to watch two more episodes.) I am watching a drama series on Apple TV, called 'Slow Horses.' This is based on a series of s thriller spy novels written by Mick Herron. It is in no way, shape or form like the fantasy world of espionage, which is the basis for James Bond. This is set in a very ordinary world where the characters are misfits and belong to a dysfunctional group of MI5 agents. I have to admit, when I watched the first episode, I had to spend some time discovering what it was actually about, and it's certainly not your average spy series. It is set in present-day London, and we see it from the viewpoint of the dark, sleazy areas of the city, the more or less underground life, if you like. Having just watched an episode of the 7/7 bombings, there are similarities in the camera work, the colour palette used and the editing, the placing of characters in the frame and the use of graphics. 

Thursday. 8.25 p.m. It's been a really hot day. Even at this hour of the evening, my digital thermometer reads 32ºc. 

I have bought a sun hat from Amazon. As is quite usual on Amazon, the choice is overwhelming. I needed one which was a good fit and not to tight on my head, because, from experience, a hat which is too tight causes a headache. I thought it a good idea to get a hat because of the current heatwave, and after my first heart attack in 2006, I was advised by a heart nurse to always wear a hat in hot weather. I ordered the hat and hoped it would be suitable. It was ordered around 7 a.m. on Tuesday, and it arrived around 5 p.m. I was impressed that it was delivered so quickly.

Saturday. 5.50 a.m. I have spent most of the night attempting to sleep. The heat has been intense, and it must be that which has caused the itchy back. I had a shower at around 10 o'clock, but it didn't really have much effect. I have now discovered that I have small raised spots on my back, which would be the cause of the itching.

8.05 a.m. If you follow my blogs regularly, you will know about my little dog, Alfie. He is a Yorkshire terrier and he is now 17 years old. You will know that I take him out regularly throughout the day, starting at around 6.30-7.00 a.m. But this morning I couldn't find him. As it's a small one-bedroom flat, there aren't many places he can hide. I looked in all the usual places, even under my bed, but still I couldn't find him. Eventually, I found him, under my desk, but in such a position it was impossible to get to him. I just left him to sleep. I think he found it cooler to sleep there. I have since managed to scoop him up and take him outside.

Still Going Strong

 Saturday. 10.25 a.m. Another hot and sweaty morning. I found it difficult to sleep last night. I took a Piriton tablet to hopefully relieve the itching, but it didn't seem to make much difference. Around 5.30 a,m. I had a shower, which seemed to have a good effect, but as I write this, I am back to the itching again. No sort of relief. 

I've been cleaning the flat. The floors look a good deal cleaner. Emptied all the bins, not a job I enjoy, but it had to be done.

9.45 p.m. It is as hot as ever. The digital thermometer currently reads 31ºc. I have had another shower, in an attempt to alleviate the itching. I think it did have some effect, but as I write this, the itching has come back with a vengeance.

Sunday. 3.35 p.m. I wasn't scheduled to do refreshments this morning at church. In fact, I am no longer on the rota. I was rung yesterday to see if I could cover, as, whoever was on the rota wasn't available. I said yes and turned up at the OTC at around 9.45. I had to fuel the car, so drove to the Esso station in Child's Way, before driving on to Shenley.

Monday. 10.15 a.m. It's warm again, and it's apparently going to get warmer. Wimbledon begins, although I'm not interested. Carol was and used to complain that she missed so much of it because of being at work. There is the merry hum of a lawnmower outside. Someone cutting the grass in the garden at Dexter House. When Carol and I lived in the house in Eaglestone, the landlord and his wife would visit once a year for an inspection. All he would ask was, 'Have you cut the grass?' Well, surely, if he looked out of the window, he could see whether it was cut or not, but never bothered to ask if any maintenance jobs needed doing, such as the plumbing, electrical things, leaks, drains. It never seemed to occur. When his son took over the management of the house, he could be quite rude, particularly after Carol died. Quite aggressive and only interested in the rent being paid. Again, nothing about maintaining the house or concern for my welfare. Considering we looked after the house and kept it in good order, absolutely no thanks. He was just plain rude.

The garden at that house was really uneven. I think it had been left that way after it was built. That made cutting the grass far more difficult. I used to do it, but it was extremely hard work, and, considering I had two heart attacks, it really took it out of me.

12.25 p.m. My digital thermometer currently reads 28ºc. No sign of it cooling down.

Tuesday. 6.35 a.m. It doesn't seem to be quite as hot today, but this is early, so let's wait and see. The digital thermometer currently reads 29ºc.

3.45 p.m. I have done a considerable amount of rewriting. I haven't got to the end of this sequence, but when it's complete it might need trimming somewhat, then it has to be word-processed.

Wednesday. 9.35 a.m. It's a good deal cooler today. It's a bit overcast. My digital thermometer currently reads 27ºc.

I've just been to Lidl. It's great to get in and out so quickly.