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.

Another Day Older

 Saturday. 6.30 p.m. There's really not much to report at the moment, so expect very little on here.

I have taken Alfie out for his second outing mid-morning and it was attempting to rain. You might say, how can be an attempt to rain? What I mean was that it was more like a thing rainfall. It was definitely undecided and it didn't seem to me to risk a sudden downpour when we were on the opposite side of Oldbrook Green, so we almost immediately went home. Alfie is getting really somewhat lazy and he was the one who decided it was time to go home. I just have to say to him 'home' and he takes me home!

Sunday. 6.35 a.m. It's misty and damp this morning as I took Alfie out.

The milk was off AGAIN! This is beginning to become somewhat annoying. The 'best before' or 'use before date is the 28th of July, so it shouldn't have gone off so quickly. I begin to question whether this milk is dated correctly. Perhaps it's older than it should be, hence it going off quicker. It is kept in my fridge, so what is the problem? It means I will have to go out to Tesco and buy more so I can at least have my mug of tea as normal at this time of the day. Not impressed.

Monday. 6.25 a.m. Poor Alfie has had the runs for the past couple of days. We went out as normal yesterday, but last night, around 1.30 a.m., he came into me in bed and wouldn't lay down and go back to sleep. He, unfortunately, made a rather runny mess and it was this that prompted me to take him out. I had to get hurriedly dressed, with Alfie barking noisily, and I had to take the small torch with me as there was very little likelihood of being able to see what we were doing on the grass outside Dexter House alongside Strudwick Drive. 

Last evening I watched a production of the Oscar Wilde Play 'A Woman Of No Importance' on Broadway HD. It's not a play I know, so it was quite revealing and some of the material seemed very relevant to today, particularly the treatment of women. It starred Anne Reid, Eleanor Bron, and Eve Best. I know the more famous 'The Importance of Being Ernest,' and can quote great chunks of it. It's very clever and witty and is full of famous Wildean epigrams. This earlier play doesn't have the same sort of 'zing' and seems a bit forced and contrived (I suppose all his plays are contrived to some extent.) and seems like a dry-run for the later play, having some lines hinting at the famous epigrams in 'Ernest.' But in this production, why is it so dark? The first scene is supposed to be in the open air but is lit so that it might as well be nighttime. Just gloomy. Is that a modern trend in theatre lighting? The same in the next scene, set in a drawing-room. And what was the musical interlude about, during the drop for what was obviously a scene change? Was that the director's idea? Was it in Wilde's original script? I'm not sure it worked.

Mixed Weather and Other Matters

It's been a good deal milder the past couple of days. Which means we haven't had the central heating on, which can only be a good thing. We have crocuses coming up in the garden, the one's Carol's mum gave us and which were planted in the large round ceramic bowl we bought when we went to Norfolk Lavender several years ago when we went to visit my brother Andrew. The Christmas tree, which has been put outside in the garden once the festive season was over and still in it's plant-pot (and in definite need of a replant in a larger one at some point in the not-too distant future.) appears to be growing quite considerably. But yesterday the weather turned a good deal colder, so we had to put the heating back on. Well, considering we're almost into February (well, it will be tomorrow.) we seem to have escaped the worst of the winter weather. I just hope we don't get another dose of snow and ice. As I write this (at 8.55 a.m.) it is raining and there quite a river running down the road in front of the house.

We are slowly filling up our new bookshelf unit. The boxes of books and other things are being emptied from when we dismantled the old shelves. As I write this, the bits of the old shelves are still piled up on the grass at the front of the house, ready for the Council workmen to take them away.  I'm surprised that nobody has attempted to shift them in the night. There are spaces for baskets or boxes which we will eventually buy from IKEA and these will hopefully hide a lot of the items which previously lived on the shelves, the bits and pieces you can't avoid having somewhere or other in the room, such as the cables which connect our cameras to the computer, glasses cases, spare change, pencil sharpeners and a host of other things you can never do without, however hard you try.

Alfie has become even more clever We gave him a large tin of Baker's dog treats for Christmas. He knows exactly where it is (standing on one of the red IKEA coffee tables near the window.) and what it contains. He goes and stares at it, even poking it with his nose. Or his other trick, taking you to the sliding patio doors in the kitchen which lead out into the garden. Goes out for a wee in the garden and comes in and waits, expecting to automatically get a treat for going outside, but now he just takes you to the sliding door and stares out, and seems to think that alone warrants a treat. Crafty little dog. Also, if he sits in front of either of us, when we're watching television (cleverly in our eye-line) and stares at us, he will get something such as a treat from the tin.

I'm continuing to read 'Goodbye Christopher Robin,' by Ann Thwaite. It was a free book one Saturday when you bought the Sunday Telegraph. I think I might have read it, having borrowed it from Bedford Central Library many years ago. It is the basis for a film of the same name. It's about how A.A.Milne came to write the 'Winnie-the-Pooh' books. I'm enjoying it up to a  point, but then Milne isn't a particularly interesting person. Pooh is a far more interesting, which says a lot about his creator. Milne was a relatively successful playwright before the 'Pooh' books were published, but nowadays the plays are relatively unknown. Milne is not as interesting a person, or so it would appear from reading this book, as, for example, Oscar Wilde, or Noël Coward, who wrote plays which are still being produced and never seem to date. Both came out with witticisms and many quotes come from their plays and other writings. I have to say it's a bit of an effort to read and I'll be glad when I have finished it. I'm interested in the creative process, how Milne came up with the idea for the stories and characters, but that is about all. I do like 'Pooh,' but I think the whimsy does get a bit cloying and mawkish. I prefer children's writing to be more acerbic. Writers such as Roald Dahl, who gave a far more realistic sense to their characters, not in the last sentimental and whimsical in the least.

This last section is being written at 7.35 p.m. The pieces of old bookshelf, which were piled up on the grass at the front of the house have now been removed by the Council workmen of the refuse collection department. It makes me laugh when I knew from hearing them collect the stuff, but then when I went online and opened my emails I saw the Council had sent me an email informing of the fact that the wood had been taken. Good of them to let me know.

Car Problems and More Rain

Our car has been playing up, to put it mildly. It started misbehaving when I went to the local shop to buy milk. I went to put the key in the ignition and it wouldn't turn in the lock. Generally, if this happens first time, you jiggle the key (is this an acceptable word? The meaning should be 'to move up and down with short jerky movements.' This, from my Collins English Dictionary, Express Electronic Edition.) I thought I ought to define this word, as there are those in other countries who might not be familiar with some words. I also have to be aware that some words have an entirely different meaning in other cultures. Oscar Wilde made the remark about American and English variations of the language when he said 'two countries divided by one language.' Anyway, I digress. I mean, I fiddled with the key to try to get the ignition to turn. It did not, on this occasion. I tried this several times. I also moved the steering wheel several times, but still the key would not turn, and so turning on the engine of the car thus facilitating the driving of said car. After several more attempts it did eventually start and I was able to drive out to the shop. Unfortunately, on arrival at the carpark, I found there was no room to park (I think I arrived there at the wrong time as the primary school, which is nearby, might have been coming to the end of it's day, and the cars might possibly have been those of the parents of the children at the school.) So, as a result, I returned home.

At around 3.30 I went to the car to drive to collect Carol at the Academy, but I could not get the key to work in the ignition. The steering column eventually locked completely, thus making operation of the car totally impossible. I walked to the Academy to collect Carol.

We tried several times more to try to get the car to start, without success. We have since telephoned someone we know at  the Milton Keynes Christian Centre who is a car mechanic and he will come out to have a look at the problem and hopefully resolve it for us.

The day has begun with dark clouds scudding across the sky. This, foreboding more rain. After yesterdays deluge, I see from last night's local news on BBC1 that there has been quite severe flooding in parts of the country.