New Prime Minister

Monday. 6.45 a.m. I awoke in the night to the distant sound of thunder. At first I wasn't entirely sure whether it was thunder, but then it broke and there was a torrential rainfall storm. It seemed to go on for a while, but then it came to an end. When I went out with Alfie around 6 a.m. there was virtually no sign of any rain. The ground looked dry, although the air was heavy with moisture.

Tuesday. 6.35 a.m. It's a good deal cooler this morning. I am waking later and later each day.

So, Liz Truss had been selected as Britain's new Prime Minister, replacing Boris Johnson. She will be going to Balmoral to see The Queen and officially transfer power between the two leaders. As I write this, I have BBC Breakfast on television, and they are reporting from Downing Street as Boris Johnson will come out and give his final speech as Prime Minister. 

9.30 a.m. Boris Johnson's speech was short and sweet, and as usual, there was a certain amount of levity in it. I know he made many mistakes and told a few lies (well, to be honest, more than a few, but don't all politicians bend the truth?) All his MPs stood on the pavement to listen to him, and then he and his wife, Carrie, drove off in a Range Rover. I can't think where, but if he and Liz Truss have to go to Balmoral, which is somewhere to the north. in the depths of Scotland and close to Aberdeen, they would need to leave soon as I imagine it would take seven or eight hours by car and probably less if they went by train. Possibly a private plane? Well, the Queen is head of state and she can choose where they meet, for Boris to resign and Liz Trust to get the keys to Number 10. Usually, this takes place at Buckingham Palace, but her majesty didn't intend to return to London, to break her holiday. Well, she isn't in the best of health and, considering her great age, late 90s, who can blame her?

Cincinnatus was mentioned in Boris's speech. I had to do a Google search, to discover he was a Roman statesman. It passed me by so quickly, but unless you have a grounding in the classics (which Boris obviously does, but I don't.) it would take the likes of Mary Beard to explain more about this Roman figure.

1.30 p.m. I took Alfie to The Groom Room within Pets At Home in Bletchley for his 11.30 appointment. He is now home and looks a good deal neater than he was when he went in. His nails are trimmed, his teeth brushed, his face is tidy, and you can see his eyes properly.

I had to fill in 90 minutes whilst Alfie was being groomed. I had a salad roll, Danish pastry and tea in Greggs, which is a few doors along from Pets At Home. Then, a browse in T.K. Maax. There's always lots to see there, but I didn't buy anything, but I was tempted. I looked in Sports Direct and have seen a couple of pairs of trainers which I am determined to buy, which have leather uppers and look quite smart compared with other styles of trainers and at a reasonable price.

Liz Truss came back from Balmoral where she had met the Queen to be officially installed as Prime Minister. It made me think, surely she would have had to travel all the way to the north of Scotland. How would she get there? It couldn't possibly be by car or train, because she was expected back in Downing Street to give a speech to the nation. It transpired that she had gone by private jet. The plane came back and landed at RAF Northolt and then she had a drive into central London as part of a convoy of what would have been security people. Then the weather changed, it began to rain, and I was somewhat amused to see the podium which was put out in front of Number 10 by staff and, as the rain fell, the microphones on it were covered with a black bin bag. The rain became heavier and the podium was moved indoors and it wasn't clear where Liz Truss's speech would be given. Indoors? In the room where all those press conferences were given by Boris Johnson during the pandemic? Then the rain came to an end and the podium came back out! 

We saw the convoy of vehicles driving through the streets as it approached Downing Street and it eventually arrived outside Number 10 Liz Trust got out of the Range Rover she had travelled in and immediately went to the podium to give her address. To me, it seemed amazing that she arrived in Downing Street and was delivering that address within minutes of arriving.

Congratulations, Ma'am!

Thursday. 8.00 a.m. So, we are about to start a four-day Platinum Jubilee weekend, I can never remember anything anywhere near similar to this. I easily remember the Silver Jubilee in 1977. Children at the local primary school were given special commemorative mugs, but how many of these survived? In 2002 we had the Golden Jubilee, but I don't remember much of that. Then, in 2012 there was the Diamond Jubilee, and an amazing concert was held in front of Buckingham Palace. I don't think anything like it had ever been organized before. I believe a similar concert will again be staged this year. 

1.05 p.m. I am currently watching live pictures of a flypast over Buckingham Palace, with H.M. Queen and other members of the Royal Family and amazing numbers of the public crowding the area immediately in front of the Palace and along The Mall, with flags waving and cheering. 

Friday. 6.10 a.m. Up out of bed and walked with Alfie around Oldbrook Green at 5.15. I don't think Alfie was fully awake, and as I write this he is back in his bed. I can't blame him, curled up and comfortable.

9.15 a.m. It's great to now have no less than TWO new washing machines at Dexter House, both in full working order. But the only problem for me is, how to operate them! The old machines had the old-fashioned mechanical controls, where you merely twisted a dial to the setting you want and the correct water temperature and length of cycle, which was easy and, frankly, common sense. But these new machines have a touch screen, much like an iPad or iPhone. I don't have a problem with them, but I'm not entirely happy using the touch screens on these machines. I don't want to wash my clothes at a temperature which ruins my clothes, so I end up shrinking things. I think I have the machine set up correctly this morning and, as I write this, I am waiting for a tumble drier load of clothes to complete drying so I can remove the load and put it all away on hangers. 

Saturday. 6.00 a.m. A pleasant and cool morning here at the heart of the universe here in swinging Milton Keynes. Alfie was fast asleep just before I took him out to walk the entire circuit of Oldbrook Green. 

11.20 a.m. I can't get the photographs which I took at the History Festival at Milton Keynes to upload onto my MacBook. I used to have a cable which you plugged into the Canon digital camera and the other end into the laptop, but I can't find it. It got lost when I moved into Dexter House. I had a card reader which you used with the card out of the camera and plugged into the USB port, but it doesn't work. None of the photographs shows up on the laptop. So I have gone to Curry's this morning to buy a replacement cable and did some top-up shopping in Aldi which is just along the parade of units. I had a good excuse to browse new digital cameras as I am considering upgrading mine. New digital cameras have Bluetooth and Wi-Fi connectivity, so you don't need to have cables to connect to your laptop. Also, some are capable of recording video for vlogging, which is a term I have only just discovered. You can make videos to upload onto the internet, for example, on YouTube. The Sony model I have seen has all these features, and you can attach a Bluetooth-connected handle which transforms into a tripod.

1.20 p.m. It continues to rain. Not heavy, but enough to damp the ground and to be disliked by Alfie. He is currently sleeping in his bed.

I am currently watching a BBC documentary series presented by Lucy Worsley which investigates several historic incidents in British history, such as the Black Death, The Princes In The Tower, The Madness of King George III and The Witch Hunts of the Middle Ages. She uses newly released documents as well as modern technology to dig a good deal deeper to uncover new evidence which over-rides the usual historical narrative to reveal a great deal of interesting material. An excellent and absorbing series.

Howling Wind

I'm sitting here in the lounge writing this with a howling gale rampaging outside. Well, I hope it's outside. As usual, at this unearthly hour (4.10a.m) I have woken up and gone to the loo. I lay awake for a while,  not just the sound of the wind, but a door (I presume it's a door) rattling somewhere. It probably needs shutting properly, but it annoys me intensely. If it's in a downstairs flat, why can't someone just shut it, so that it stops it's relentless banging and rattling? Of course, that's too obvious. I won't go on about it, but it keeps me awake. I decide to make myself a cup of tea. I sometimes do the washing up from the previous evening's meal, but I did it last evening and the kitchen is spotless, the sink cleaned as well as the work surfaces. I make the cup of tea and then go through to the lounge and put on the television. The BBC news channel has a piece on a team of scientists going to either the Artic or Antarctic and doing research on a major glacier and drilling a hole through around a couple of miles of ice (I think it's a couple of miles, but it may be less.) The BBC sent their science correspondent (I forget his name.) to cover the story. They have to use hot water to help drill a hole in the ice and eventually they send a sort of robotic submarine down, fitted with a camera, to take video of the underside of the ice, and to see how much it's melting, something never before seen by human eyes and the ice has taken millennia to develop.

The gale is called Ciara. Is it male or female? I won't get into the gender argument, but whatever it is, it sounds very bad tempered. It's a she. I've done a Google search.

It's some time later (5.56, as I look at my digital watch.) The wind continues to howl, but I can't hear the door downstairs rattling. Perhaps someone had had the sense to close it, but I doubt it. I don't think the wind has dropped. What sort of damage has it caused? I will find out when I take Alfie out at around 7.15.

Watching BBC Breakfast this morning, could someone explain why the BBC insists on sending reporters to places being hit by storms, and then standing in really dangerous places, such as near the sea shore, where there are crashing waves, which are very likely to swamp them, or, in other times, standing up to their knees in flood water, or at the side of a motorway, where there is snow and ice, again, putting their lives at risk? It's not just the reporters who are endangered, but there must be cameramen, sound operators and production staff, unseen by the viewer and off-camera, who make up a unit to bring these live pictures to the viewer. What on earth do these reports add to the situation? Nothing much, and if the BBC wants to cut costs, why not just report within a warm and comfortable studio and have photographs and video to back up the report? It's a similar report if they are doing something about the Royal Family, why do they need to have a reporter outside Buckingham Palace? Again, it doesn't really add a thing to the reporting of a particular story.

I've been out and the wind is still strong. As we walked along Strudwick Drive, I saw a police car draw up near the carpark entrance to The Cricketers public house. A cab was parked nearby. I have no idea why it was here, possibly just checking things out and nothing to do with a criminal act of any sort, but I just wondered what it was about. You rarely see a policeman or even a police car around the estate, so it just makes me wonder.

I went to church this morning, and when I got home I thought that Alfie would want to go out. Well, being cooped up for so long (actually not that long) there would be a definite necessity. He makes such a noise whenever I prepare to take him out, especially when I put his lead on. We got outside and I realised it was raining, although only slightly. We got round the corner from Dexter House and into Strudwick Drive, allowing him the opportunity to have a wee on the grass, but, instead of walking off towards Oldbrook Green, he took me in the opposite direction and back to the flat. He just does not like getting wet and couldn't wait to get back to the warmth of he sofa and, as I write this (at 12.40) he is tucked up on his blanket and fast asleep!

Later. 7.00p.m. The wind has dropped, but not entirely. I took out Alfie for a final walk at around 4.30, but he wasn't keen to stay out too long because even then it was windy, but he was quite keen to get back to the warmth of the flat and as I write this now he's sleep once again on the sofa.

Monday Morning. 6.50 a.m. Well, thankfully the wind has dropped. As I write this, I haven't been out with Alfie, but I'm due to take him out at around 7.10 a.m. Watching BBC Breakfast, which is on as I write this, they're showing the amount of damage caused by the wind and there's a Yellow weather-warning, meaning that there's more bad weather on the way. I expect there's likely to be more destruction when I go outside.

Later. I have now come back from taking Alfie out for his early-morning walk. Definitely a good deal calmer. Apparently there was around 6 weeks of rain falling across the country. The BBC are again having reporters standing next to flooded rivers and streams. They were in Hebden Bridge, somewhere Carol and I probably drove through when we went on holiday in Yorkshire. It's the second time this community has been flooded, even with flood protection put in place.

There was a large moon when we went out. It looked like a huge penny in the sky and then it got engulfed by a cloud and it looked somewhat artificial, a bit like C.G.I. in a film. It seemed to disappear really rapidly.

Working In Care-Part 7

I have to say it was quite pleasant working in residential care when we took the client group out for the day. Not that it wasn't that streightforward, far from it. There was the packing up of the minibus, loading the wheelchairs, making sure we had all the group's medicaton, as well as a picnic, which was usually prepared well in advance by the staff who had worked on the night shift.

The whole client group were involved in choosing where they went for their day out. It was never a decision made entirely by the staff. It would have been easy to just say 'let's take them out to a zoo' and just go. A short list was made and then all the residents could choose the one place they wanted to go to, and the one place with the most votes was the place to go to for a day out.

At around the time of the Queen Mother's death, the residents at Everton decided to visit London, as some wanted to visit the places that were shown on television and used during her funeral, such as Westminster Abbey. A group had only just been on a trip to visit Buckingham Palace and been on the London Eye, the entire trip having been organised carefully, as special permission had to be gained so that the minibus could be parked close to the Palace.
We had taken a group out for the day to Hunstanton, up on the Norfolk coast not far from Sandringham. I don't remember it being particularly eventful, but it was quite hard work pushing wheelchairs up and down the seafront with parts being quite steep, which, considering it was in Norfolk, a county noted for being flat. The Senior Support worker I've mentioned in the earlier post (who will continue to remain nameless.) went somewhat over-board when we went to one shop (I seem to recall we did spend a great deal of time in shops of one sort or another.) This shop is typical of the sort you seem to find at seaside resorts, selling a wide range of items, such as the usual buckets and spades, beachballs, postcards and general souveniers you get at any seaside resort, a great deal of it absolute rubbish and the sort of things that you wouldn't willingly clutter your home up with. Anyway, each of the residents was allowed to spend some of their own money on anything they liked as a souvenier of the day and each of the carers had been given an envelope containing the cash and then we helped our resident choose an item, being careful to get receipts so that the money could be put in their care plans when we returned to the house in Everton. This was all straightforward enough, but the Senior Support went crazy when he saw the cakes, biscuits and sweets that were also on sale in this shop. He obviously knew from an earlier visit to Hunstanton that this shop existed and then proceeded to purchase a quite considerable amount of these biscuits and cakes, which were being sold at very low prices  quite large quantities. He had become a bit like a child in a sweetshop when told that it can buy what it likes with money being no object. We than had to cart all these purchases back to the mini bus to be taken home. It was a bit like buying stuff from a wholesaler. I really think he should have toned down this as it was somewhat over the top and not really the sort of behaviour for someone who had a position to uphold, but it was obviously up to him how he spent his cash.
Returning to the trip to London. I arrived really early at the Everton house and we got all the residents loaded into the vehicle. I sat in the front with the driver (the Senior Support Worker who I mentioned earlier. In fact he seems to feature quite prominently in these blog posts it would appear.) As we were about to leave the house I turned to him and said "Shall I go and get the A to Z ?'" (of London, a street atlas.) which I had bought with me and was left in my car. He turned to me and said, 'No. We won't need it." I then said "We might need it to find our way around the centre of London." To which I got the reply: " We won't need it. If we need to find our way, all you have to do is wind down the bus window and shout to a passing cab-driver. They are all good at giving directions." I was totally dumbfounded and by now we had left Everton and were heading for the motorway and central London. So, I thought, you really expect me to stick my head out of the window and shout across the street to the nearest passing cabbie? Did he not think it was going to be highly dangerous? And what sort of response do you really, honestly, expect to get back from your typical London cabbie? More likely a mouthful of abuse and not directions to the next tourist attraction. Did he not think that they had better things to do with their time?
We got into the centre of London and made for Westminster Abbey. As can be imagined as it's a major tourist attraction, parking was very difficult but we had got a space booked near enough that we could unload the wheelchairs and get the residents out and then wheel them into the Abbey,  down a specially-constructed ramp for wheelchairs, going through the visitor's entrance and in front of a lot of people who had obviously queued for some time to get in. I don't think we paid, because these were people with disabilities and I'm sure none of the carers had to pay. It was not easy manoeuvering the wheelchairs plus residents around the extremely crowded Abbey. The ancient floors are not really suitable for the tyres of a wheelchair and members of the public do not want to move out of the way either and walk very slowly around such buildings so there would be jams of people at various points of the tour round. I would have liked to have had a better tour myself, having an interest in history, particularly Poets' Corner. I don't honestly think any of the residents were that interested but it was quite an interesting tour. We can't have been inside Westminster Abbey much more than an hour and then we had to find toilets which were not very well suited to wheelchair users.
Having left the Abbey and got the residents loaded back in the mini bus, the driver (my dear Senior Support Worker person, who shall remain anonymous.) said "Where next?" It was decided to go to Buckingham Palace (we were eventually going to end up at London Zoo.) so it was decided and it was myself that managed to get us down to The Mall, the avenue that leads from Admiralty Arch and directly towards Buckingham Palace. As we drove along The Mall, this driver person (who shall remain nameless!) suddenly shouted out, "Look! Soldiers!" as a groups of horses, being ridden along the street in full dress uniform, appeared from a side street. He then insisted on stopping at the side of The Mall and me getting out to take photographs with a camera he thrust into my hands. I immediately said 'No, no, we can't stop here! You mustn't stop on The Mall!" I recalled the incident some years ago when Princess Anne (now Princess Royal) had been involved in a near-disasterous incident with a stranger who threatened to kidnap her, and how it was now illegal for any vehicle to stop anywhere near Buckingham Palace. But the gentleman insisted on stopping, and at the precise moment I was about to get out of the vehicle there was a knock on the window and a soldier in full uniform told us, in no uncertain terms to please 'move along!' I was right of course, but it took some convincing to the Senior Support gentleman that we shouldn't have stopped where we had on The Mall. Some people don't want to listen when they are told or are just plain ignorant, but we could have been done for all sorts of things, from terrorism to attempted kidnapping, just because he would have it that it was perfectly alright to stop the vehicle with only yards from the Queen's residence.
We drove on and round near Buckingham Palace to give the residents a glimpse of the Queen's home and from there we went on to London Zoo. It was myself who managed to navigate as our driver had no idea where he was going but still insisting that it would be fine to ask the nearest passing cab-driver. I have a fairly good knowledge of central London, managing to find my way around because I know where most of the West End theatres are. We got to London Zoo without incident and spent the rest of the afternoon looking at the animals (well, let's be perfectly honest, what else do you expect to do in a zoo?) It was a very hot day, so we had to find the shadiest places to go and make sure some of them had sun-screen on and had hats to wear.
We eventually had a rather pleasant picnic and then drove back to Everton and arrived back late.