Learming New Things

 Monday 19th October. 6.25 p.m. Oh dear. My MacBook has been playing up! I had intended printing out the latest play I had written (more about that later.) I had bought the required ink cartridge from Argos, along with some paper, although there was a considerable amount still left in the drawer under the printer, but I didn't think it was a good idea to be short of paper, once the printer started. This play runs to a little over 90 pagers, so to run out in the middle of printing might cause problems. Then the MacBook refused point blank to cooperate and wouldn't open and I was left staring at a blank screen. What to do? The only answer was to go into the Apple store in Midsummer Place and ask someone to help resolve this very tiresome issue. I went in, having checked that the roads weren't closed off because of resurfacing, which is why I had the issue the other morning when I attempt4ed to go to Sainsburys.

So, I walked into Midsummer Place and then foundmmyself in the Apple store. You have to book an appointment and then, around ten minutes later an assistant was looking at the lqptop. He took it away and returned around 10 minutes later, having looked qt the battery and told me that the problem was caused by the external hard drive, which was taking power from the MacBook. So, not a problem at all, so I returned home to hopefully print the play, using the Canon printer.

As for the play, I will explain where the idea came from. I have told you about the Wednesday afternoon tea party in the communal lounge at Dexter House, which has become something of a fixture. A chance to have s natter and share thoughts about living in Dexter House. Well, for the past few weeks, a member of staff has been coming in. I think she is an SHO at another sheltered housing unit in Milton Keynes. She put me in mind of a character in a Mike Leigh play, probably the most famous one 'Abigail's Party' which stars Alison Stedman. She not only vaguely looks like a Mike Leigh character, she SOUNDS like one. So, I csame up with the idea of this woman, married to a small business, a back-street motor repair shop, and they live in the middle flat of a block of flats, and it's new Year\s Eve and they've prepared for a party, inviting friends to come and celebrate the newYear, with things ro eqrt, a buffet, lots to eat and then people stqrt tqlking. Well, that's the starting point, and it has just more or less written itself.

Tuesday. 20th October. 6.25 a.m. I had intended to begin this blog post diffrerently, which explains the title.

You may recall in an earlier blog post, how I detest cricket and football. I think I can now work out why this might be. When I was at school we played these games, and would go to the games field up a hill in Manton Lane in Bedford (which is now where Bedford Modern School was relocated in aound the 1970s.) It was a real trudge up that hil, usually in thick mud which clung to your boots. Then, at the top, in the middle of winter particularly, with wind whistling up from the ton below, chilling your bones and it took all your effort to stand up streight, shivering and covered in mud. I suffered really badly from cold, so it made life worse. Then, we would be divided into two teams, if we were about to play football, and in summer, cricket. Becauee I was so bad at playing the game, I inevitably got selected last. This didn't exactly make me excited to play either game. I know I was a lousy footballer, but running around on a muddy, extremly chilly piece of grass, dressed in shorts and short-sleeved shirt (I don't remember if those shirts had shoirt or long sleeves, to be honest.) and not really having the faintest idea how the stupid game was played, didn't exactly help.

I have got it! The bit about not knowing how the game was played! We were expected to go out on the fotballl pitch and launch into aropund 90 minutes of football, and understand all the rules, which end was your end, which was the goal you were aiming to kick the ball into, how to tackle someone who had the ball. Now, I have hit the nail on the head, for cricket and football. Why weere we never coached in how to play the game, to even be given some sort of tqlk about the rules? It seems that this was typical of a lot of topics in the 1960's and possibly earlier. Things were not made any easier because of my inability to kick a ball straight or not hit the cricket ball when one was lobbed at me. I think it might be the fqct that I should have been left-handed and was made (forced, more likely) to write and use my right hand. This, I believe, was normal practice in the 1960' and earlier. I would say it was, to make life easier for the teachers. If you had a child who was different, say, left-haanded, it would be more complicated. They wanted everyone to be identical. Well, I wasn't. 

It was the same in other areas of my life.I'm thinking, when I worked in stage management. We had to do a variety of jobs, operate the sound deck, which included making up show tapes, editing recording tape, then playing sound effects into the show, given cues to foloow, actually running the prompt corner, taking rehearsals, marking out the floor of the rehearsal room with coloured tape, operating the fly floor, the list goes on and on. My worst job was tieing knots, which might not seem important, but it was. I could never tie ropes to fly-fqrs, which were used to hqul up scenery, curtains or lighting. I don't ever remember being shown how to do thqt job. It would have been fqr more sense to show someone new how to do these jobs.

Thinking about all this, particularly knowing how to play sport, such as cricket or football, the fact that I never got any coaching, puts me in mind of putting on a play. You would never expect an actor or a group of actors, to go out on stage without rehearsals. It would never work, for  start. You havee to learn lines, the moves around the stage, entrances and exits, who goes where. The sae with the stage crew, you need to know how the whole play works, have the props sourced, arranged in the correct place, along with the sound and lighting cues. It's surely the same with playing a game of football or cricket, if you don't know how it is played, all the rules and regulations, how are you expected to give your best?

Watching the 2018 Winter Olympics

If you read my blog posts regularly you will have discovered that I'm not a great sports fan. To me football must be about the most boring sport ever invented. I can see nothing particularly interesting in watching a load of men running around on a piece of grass and chasing after a leather ball, with the intention of kicking it into a net. Just does not do it for me, I'm afraid. Rugby might possibly be another matter, as it's fast, dangerous and like some epic medieval battle. Far more of a skill in kicking a ball which isn't round, getting it to go over a bar at quite some height is definitely a skill. Even managing to get it to go in a straight line is an art in itself. Not just football as being boring to me, but cricket is another dumb sport. I think it's because I was put off the whole thing when I was at school, having to participate in something that I wasn't particularly good at. Most likely, totally hopeless. Having a leather ball flung at you for a start, and trying to hit it with a wooden bat, just not going to happen somehow. Standing about on a piece of grass, on a hot summer's day, waiting to bat or field and also having to field, as far from the centre of action as possible, not my idea of fun in the slightest. Footballers paid telephone numbers for doing very little. Who on earth is worth something like £400,000 a week? Crazy.

But this morning we've got the television on and watching the opening ceremony of the 2018 Winter Olympics from Pyeonchang, South Korea. (Goodness, I did manage to spell it!) I have to say, having a larger-screen HD television does make watching this sort of thing far more, how shall I describe it, immersive. How on earth anyone can strap on a pair of skis and fling themselves down a mountainside I can hardly imagine, or lay on what is little more than a sort of tin tray and hurtle as I have no idea how many miles per hour down a sort of icey railway track (not a very good way to describe it I'm afraid.) with no visible sort of protection, I can never comprehend. All these sports people at the Olympics doing something they love, to represent their country, but doing it without being paid a bean. And generally doing it exceptionally well.

The actual opening ceremony includes a rather amazing snow leopard or lion, not a real one of course, but a sort of large puppet. Also some, what look like mythical creatures, a dragon and some sort of bird, being operated by several puppeteers. A bit like how the puppets were operated in the show we saw at the Derngate last May. A phoenix we're told by the commentator. Amazing lighting, lots of dancers and quite spectacular. Almost on a par with the opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics. I think that has to be the sort of standard these ceremonies have to now be compared with.
All participants are wearing what look like white dressing gowns with furry edging and brightly-coloured flower-pot hats with sort of Christmassy decorations on them. Well, I'm sure they're not in the least connected to the festive period, but that's what they look like to me. How on earth they manage to coordinate so many people is quite beyond my comprehension. Having worked in stage management for a few years I have some idea of the huge logistics of dealing with that many people, not just off stage but on, and in such a huge space.

Later. Carol had to go to the Oncology Suite for 11.30 this morning for a blood test before the fifth chemotherapy cycle to begin on Monday morning. The carpark entrance was being repaired (or assume it was.) because when we arrived at the barrier their was a mechanic there with the cover off the machinery and handed us a ticket as we drove in. Fortunately we were able to find a parking space and then walked into the hospital as we usually do through the cardiology department.

Carol's colleague from Milton Keynes Academy, Sandy, who used to work as a technician in the science department, was in the oncology unit with her husband when we arrived so there was someone to talk to before the nurses came to do the blood test and check out Carol's weight and blood pressure. There was a television on in the unit with the Winter Olympics opening ceremony on. Each team was being lead into the arena with a lady dressed in what might have been Christmas characters, but obviously wasn't. A very good display of the various types of jacket and suits worn by all the participating country's teams as they walked through the arena.

It seemed that the oncology unit was somewhat short staffed as there didn't appear to be the full number of nurses on duty as there usually was, meaning that only a couple of nurses were doing several people's jobs. Which is probably why we had to wait for some time before Carol was seen to. It didn't matter too much as we had plenty to keep us occupied, chatting to Sandy and her husband.

By the time everything was complete we were beginning to get hungry. It was a good hour or more later when we left than when we usually have something to eat for our lunch, so we drove to Dobbie's at Bletchley to go to their restaurant. As we drove along Chaffron Way we were followed by a small car with a young man and a girl in it. The driver insisted on driving very close behind. Nothing unusual about this as it's happened many times before. He attempted to get me to drive faster but I wasn't going to drive any faster than is safe or at least within the speed limit. As a result he hooted at me, which made me jump. I continued driving on towards the roundabout and on to Grafton Street. Again the driver honked me. I ignored him and continued on. Eventually the driver turned off into Coffee Hall near the Shell petrol station. Just another ill-mannered individual more concerned with his selfish ways than any respect for other people on the road. We drove on and got on the A5 and continued on to Dobbie's. I had cottage pie and chips and Carol had egg mayonnaise baguette. Good-sized portions and just what we needed. It was surprisingly busy, considering it was a Friday. Having eaten, we went to buy some bird feeders and some food as the bird feeder in the garden was empty and it was well and truly time to fill it up. We also had a browse in the food hall and bought some cakes and fudge and then went back to the car to drive home.