Happy Bunny!

 Friday. 8.35 a.m. I mentioned that I was having problems getting Blogger to work, so I could write more posts. The problem is now solved. I used to use Safari to work on my posts, but I realised that Google owns Blogger, so I used their browser, Chrome, and it works perfectly. It makes sense, as you would want all your products to work together.

Saturday. 9.20 a.m. It's the 1st of November. The sun is shining, but I'm not sure how warm it is out. I will go out later. I have a regular prayer triplet on WhatsApp at 10. 

The digital thermometer currently reads 23ºc.

2.45 p.m. For some reason, probably technical, Mike was not able to join the prayer triplet at 10 o'clock this morning, but my friend Richard was able to make it, and we had a long chat. Technology is great when it works, but it's not so good when it goes wrong and causes a certain amount of frustration and stress.

Tuesday. 1.50 p.m. It's quite mild and sunny at the moment. How long it's likely to last is anyone's guess.

The digital thermometer currently reads 24ºc.

I am currently transferring my writing into word processing, as I mentioned earlier in recent blog posts. I am editing as I go and adding new stuff. It's going well, and the fact that I leave it for a few days helps me to come up with new ideas. I'm cutting out a significant portion of what I originally wrote and rearranging the order in some cases.

Saturday. 11.15 a.m. It's unseasonably mild at the moment. The digital thermometer currently reads 23ºc.

We had our monthly men's breakfast this morning at the Oaktree Centre. As usual, plenty of eggs, bacon and all the trimmings and then a discussion around the table.

The trees are rapidly turning colour, a wide range of browns and yellows. The leaves are falling fast.

Down and Out!

 Tuesday. 7.10 a.m. My internet went down last night. At first, I thought it was a poor connection to the router, so I checked the thing, even did the turn-off and turn-on thing, but no result. I even thought that I might not have had enough in my bank account and a payment had been missed, but it wasn't that. I managed to open Google on my phone and discovered that the entire Vodafone network was down. Not just broadband, but also their mobile network. This at least was a relief, but it didn't help the fact that the broadband was out of operation. Fortunately, this morning I found that the broadband was back up and running.

Thursday. 1.45 p.m. For some weird reason, some days this blog is impossible to write on. I don't know why, but it means I can't write or do anything, which is the reason it has been patchy. I will write as much as I can, but it can be frustrating when I can't continue.

I won't be replacing Alfie with another dog. As much as I would like another one, it's not really a good idea. I loved him too bits, and he was absolutely no problem, but if I wanted to go away, for example, to Worcester, to visit my daughter, Chloe and the grandchildren, it was difficult to get someone to look after him. I did a search online and found that Yorkshire Terrier puppies cost anything from £1,500 to well over £2,500. I think, if I were going to get another dog, I'd get a dachshund. I'd get a short-haired one, which would be much easier to keep tidy.

Monday. 10.05 p.m. It's more than ever autumnal. The trees are turning brown. Throughout Milton Keynes, the trees are a mass of different colours, orange, red and in between.

The digital thermometer reads 23ºc as I write this post.

I have completed a long sequence of writing, transferred it to word processing.

Tuesday. 6.20 a.m. Yesterday evening, we had to endure about an hour of fireworks being let off, over on Oldbrook Green. Several notices are saying that fireworks should not be set off, but it obviously doesn't make a lot of difference to the individuals doing this. So, tell me, what is the point of having these notices if nobody in authority from Milton Keynes Council (or perhaps Campbell Park Parish Council) does something to stop it? There must be some bit of local legislation that demands fireworks to be stopped. Apart from anything, it upsets dogs and other animals in and around this area.

2.10 p.m. I've been out with my camera and walked around Oldbrook Green (or is it Park?) This was the first time I've been around there since Alfie died, and it was odd without him. There are the remains of fireworks on the green and signs put up around telling people that it is an offence to let of fireworks, under law, and you can be fined. Not that that would make any difference to those persons involved with last night's little session.

The Whirligig of Time

 Saturday. 6.50 a.m. Goodness, gracious! Today is the 1st of July. Nothing more to be said on this matter.

6.15 a.m. I've been to meet my friend Nick in the main shopping centre. I drove in at around 11.25, and we were scheduled to meet outside Costa,  opposite Marks and Spencer, at midday. Nick turned up, but, when I saw him, or thought I saw him, walking towards me, at first I didn't recognize him. We went into Costa and I ordered a strawberry and cream frappé, a ham and cheese toastie (my regular) and a rather nice slice of carrot cake. Once we'd eaten and drunk, we went into Marks and Spencer and browsed in the men's department. Actually, a real surprise this, quite a lot of items I liked and might even end up buying. They are throwing of their old-fashioned image, at last, appealing to those (me included) who prefer clothing to be a bit more adventurous and colourful. Who on earth would imagine M and S selling pink jackets? Or bright orange trousers?? The sort of thing that Michael Portillo might wear in one of his train journey television documentaries. Then, we wandered along the shopping mall, into Boots for a couple of items I needed. Virtually no humans at check-outs, it's nearly all self-service. Companies who insist on this sort of treatment of their once loyal customers will see them shopping elsewhere. We browsed in W.H. Smiths and several other stores, and then we walked to my car and that was where we parted company.

I had problems with the RingGo app. It causes more problems than it solves. I got it to go into the payment section and put in the security code of my card, but then the spinning ball thing wouldn't stop, so I wasn't sure whether the payment had been taken. I think it may have something to do with the internet connection, but I have deleted the app and reinstalled it, but even now I'm not sure if it works properly. It's more frustrating than anything. If it worked well, it would be better, but it's not. It does save having to take change with you when you park, but when it either doesn't open or connect, it's useless.

Sunday. 8.00 a.m. I've been out and done another video experiment using the gimbal. It seemed to work better, or, at least I'm getting to grips with using it and managing to get the horizon steady, but for some reason, I can't get the microphone which connects to the iPhone to work. You never know when it's connected. There's no light that comes on to indicate it's connected. I think it's just a case of trial and error.

I have looked at the instruction manual for the microphone, and it does have a light that should come on when it's connected, so it's my fault it didn't do what it should. Never mind. It's all a learning process, as they say.

The current temperature, as recorded on the digital thermometer, is 23ºC. A much more workable temperature

5.00 a.m. The current temperature in this flat is 24ºC.

Monday. 4.55 a.m. I've just got back in from taking Alfie out. It's another milder morning, but pleasant. A lady was out with her two dogs on Oldbrook Green. She had a larger dog, I think perhaps a sheltie or border collie, I couldn't tell, and a little spaniel, having fun with a stick, the little one running around behind her and having great fun. Alfie wasn't going to walk all the way around the Green, locking his legs and determined to go home to have a sleep. Who can blame him?

The title of this post is another from 'Twelfth Night.' It came to me, as these things seem to do, and I had an idea it came from 'King Lear', but when I did a Google search, it came up with 'Twelfth Night.' It refers to a spinning top, a toy which Tudor children would have played with. It comes in Feste's speech to Malvolio, at the end of the play, and refers to the circularity of the year and, indeed, time. After this, Malvolo storms off, saying, 'I'll be revenged on you'. 

Current temperature in the flat is 21ºC, so it has fallen around ten degrees in the past few days.

Christmas Cheer?

 Saturday. 8.25 a.m. It's cold and frosty. I was out with my little mate, Alfie, just after  7.30. A frost on the grass and a large moon hovering in the chill sky. It was really large the other morning. I'm not sure of the name it gets at this time of year. I'll have to do a Google search. 

Done the Google search. It's called a Cold Moon. Boring really. It's because the weather gets colder. Not very original, then. 

So, we get more football coverage, due to England meeting France in the quarter-finals at the World Cup in Qatar at 7.00 this evening. No, I'm not interested, so won't be watching. There's far too much coverage, and it looks as if the whole country is totally obsessed with football. I know why, it's about money. Too much riding on it all, with adverting and sponsorship tied up with the sport. Going into Sainsbury's the other morning, it was shocking to see how many products are tied into it. They want you to make sure you have plenty of food to eat during the various games, particularly pizza, crisps, lager, and soft drinks such as Coca-Cola and Pepsi. It's not just in supermarkets, either. Turn on any of the commercial television stations, and the advertising connected to the World Cup is more or less at saturation point. If you want to avoid any form of advertising by watching catch-up, you can't avoid it as these forms of television viewing aren't free from commercial overkill. I suppose you can't blame the companies, because they're paid for by advertising, not just during programmes, but they have sponsorship wrapping around each programme, beginning and end and during the commercial breaks. 

10.40 a.m. I've been attempting to move my writing project forward. I think it's more of a serial instead of a novel, and it should be released in episodes, which is more or less how he began life. I wanted to create something, rather in the mould of a television soap, with multiple characters and storylines which interact with one another, but more likely weave in and out of a central storyline, which is how it's developing. 

I have taken Alfie out and have just got back indoors. It's cold enough for gloves and my Oddballs woolly hat (Oddballs being a company that sells clothing items, underwear, pyjamas, gloves and so on, and the profits go towards initially,  research for a cure for prostate cancer, but have also helped fund other cancer research for both men and women.) I wanted to walk around Oldbrook Green, although Alfie had other ideas and was determined to get home in the warm, but I had other ideas and insisted on our circular walk continuing. I had the idea to be thinking about how my writing project could move forward and come up with some sort of storyline which would introduce a new character who would be able to create some tension. So, I am using the method which Charles Dickens used, as he would walk for miles around London and this would be when he came up with storylines and characters. I can see that would be a good method and might suggest why so many of his novels are set in London. 

Sunday. 7.15 a.m. Did I say Christmas cheer in the title of this post? I can't say I'm particularly in any sort of mood for Christmas, particularly as today is the fourth anniversary of the passing of my lovely wife, Carol. She is sorely missed, and she was too young to die at 54. We had such a good life together and were always doing things together, laughing and visiting various places, going to National Trust properties, museums, theatres and many more places. Cancer is so cruel. More research needs to be done to find a cure for the various forms it takes. Far too many people have either died of cancer or not been diagnosed by the NHS due to the pandemic when the various cancer facilities were shut down. Totally crazy and not acceptable.

We're Having A Heatwave!

Tuesday. 10.30 a.m.Okay, okay. The post title comes from that of a song, written by Irving Berlin and sung by the amazing Ethel Merman and various other singers, first appearing in the film 'Alexander's Ragtime Band', which was released in 1938.

I have been experiencing real pain in my left knee. I don't tend to make a fuss about such things, but it has been going on for around a month or six weeks or so. I was reluctant to go to my doctor's, basically because it's not easy, generally, to get an appointment, then there was the possibility of having to wear a mask and all that nonsense about 'social distancing', (a stupid term. It's an oxymoron, for goodness’s sake. If you don't know what that is, look it up on Google.) I wondered if it was related to something which happened when I was a D.S.M. at Ipswich Theatre in the 1970s. We did a Christmas show, not a pantomime, based on the John Ryan children's television show called 'Sir Prancelot.' I was part of a team who worked on the fly floor, hauling up bits of scenery and making sure the flying went smoothly. Unfortunately, as it was Christmastime, we were messing around, as often happens, but probably not the best place to mess around. In the process, I banged my knee on one of the cleats which were used to tie off the flying hemps `(or ropes.) It hurt at the time, as you'd expect if you have had such an injury. I didn't think any more about it, and had a few twinges, but nothing more. Then, around 48 years later, this discomfort came back. I could have just ignored it, but as you get older, it's probably best to deal with things such as an injury. I can hardly bend the knee, kneeling is out and bending down to do up laces is quite uncomfortable. 

Yesterday I decided that enough was enough, and with several issues sorted out, for example, the renovation work on my kitchen and the car with its MoT (which, by the way, it passed, fortunately.) I could go ahead and attempt to make an appointment at my doctor's surgery. Ringing around 8.20 a.m., I just got the infamous menu, asking which area you wanted, so I pressed '1' for appointments, but the system just came back to where I began. It was obvious that there was something wrong with the technology. I could not get through to speak to a receptionist. But around 20 minutes later I got through and this time I was able to get an appointment with a practice nurse. It was at 9 a.m. this morning.

I left in good time to get to the surgery in Bradwell Common. Unfortunately, there are at least three sets of traffic lights you have to go through in order to reach the surgery. There is generally very light traffic at that time of the morning, and even less than there would be when schools are open. These confounded lights seem to take an eternity to change. I can see absolutely no reason for them to take so long and they really need resetting.

On arriving at the car park at the surgery, there was no problem finding a space, and then I walked inside, and as I had taken a face mask with me, found there was no need for it. All the chairs were back as they should be, with no social distancing. I signed in, using the computerized system, and then sat down to wait for my appointment to come up on the digital screen. 

There was a message which came up on the screen, telling patients that, if they were in the wrong waiting area, they might miss their appointment. This is because the surgery has a waiting area downstairs, near reception, and another, upstairs. As it was by now about five minutes past the time of my appointment, which was actually 9 o'clock, I went back to the computerized screen and did a check. It didn't appear that I had actually managed to register that I had arrived, so I checked with one of the receptionists and it wasn't clear whether it had actually registered. So I went back to the waiting area.

Around 9.30 I got my call to go into the practice nurse's room. It turns out the problem with my left knee is caused by the soft tissue in the knee joint, called bursa, which are fluid-filled sacs situated near your knee joint. They reduce friction and cushion pressure points between your bones and tendons, muscles and skin near your joints. Any of the bursa in your knee can become inflamed, but knee bursitis most commonly occurs over the kneecap on the inner side of your knee below the joint.

The nurse told me it was unlikely to be in any way connected to the incident when my need came into contact with the cleat on the fly floor in Ipswich. Unlikely, as that was around fifty years ago.

I was told that Voltorol gel would help relieve the discomfort and reduce the inflammation. Also, putting an ice pack on it for ten minutes would also help. The nurse said that a bag of frozen peas would do just as well as an ice pack, but I would rather not use frozen peas, so I intend buying a reusable ice pack.

From the doctor's surgery, I went into the Boots branch, which is immediately next door. They didn't have an ice pack, but I did manage to buy a tube of Voltorol.

On the way home, I was thinking about where I could get an ice pack. I could have gone into the central shopping centre and tried the main branch of Boots, but it would have meant parking and paying, and I didn't have my mobile, so I couldn't pay using the parking app, and, anyway, there was no guarantee that they would even have such a thing as an ice pack. Then it occurred to me, why not try Amazon? So, on arriving home, I looked on the Amazon website and, lo and behold! A vast selection to choose from, and I found a reusable one and ordered it. It should arrive tomorrow. I started using the Voltarol, so I'll have to wait and see if it reduces the pain of bursitis.

6.30 p.m. I'm currently watching the weather on BBC 6 O'clock News, and the weather forecast says there will be extreme heat from this Thursday to Sunday, and the Met Office has issued an Amber Warning.

Wednesday. 5.45 a.m. Awake early and Alfie was barking madly in the lounge. It is relatively mild and as I write this, my digital thermometer reads 75ºF. 

1.45 p.m. We were told that we could expect a team of workmen to come and test the water in each of the flats in Dexter House. If we weren't going to be available to let them in, then we could rearrange times for this. I'm not sure what it was for. Testing for temperature or something. Around 1.30 I got a knock on my front door and two men stood on the doorstep. They were for something with the totally original title of WET. It made me laugh, why would you have such an original name for your business, which deals with water, and call it WET? Initials for 'Water Engineering Testing' maybe? 'We Envision Testing', or 'Water Engineering Testers'? I can't imagine. But how ridiculous. I showed them the bathroom, they took a fleeting glance, and were gone. I really thought they would have complicated instruments, to test the water, the flow, the temperature, take samples for analysis. But no . . . Just a glance and they were gone. 

June Is Bustin' Out All Over!

Okay, okay! Another blog post title quiz question. . . Where is this title from? Another musical . . . written by Rogers and Hammerstein. . . It's from their musical 'Carousel.' I actually thought it was from 'Oklahoma!', but after a Goole search, I found out my guess was wrong.

Saturday.7.10 a.m.  Yet another bright and sunny morning. It does seem that June is definitely 'Bustin'' out all over Oldbrook and further afield. Trees in full leaf. Flowers popping up all over the place. Birdies building their nests and fledglings taking their first flight. Goodness knows what else, but things are definitely bustin' out all over!

10.25 a.m. I decided I needed a hand mixer for use with my baking. Something simple, a hand mixer, which would make whisking up cake mix, batter, and other items far quicker and easier. I had a look on the internet, Amazon as a start-off, but so many brands that I haven't heard of, some cheaper than others and some definitely more than I was willing to pay. Then I thought of Argos and the fact I had quite a few Nectar points which I've collected through shopping in Sainsbury's and which I get with having a home contents insurance policy with Sainsbury's Bank. I had a look and then read the reviews of some of those hand mixers, the cheapest not having very good or at least, mixed (sorry about the pun! Just couldn't help it I'm afraid.) one saying it was liable to over-heat, so no good. I expected to pay a bit more, so I found a Kenwood model, a good brand, and supposedly reliable, so I decided on that one and at £22.99 seemingly good value. Multi-speed and you can store it with the whisks disconnected and stand on its flat base. So, it seemed ideal for my kitchen which has limited storage space.

I wanted to pay online and use the Nectar points and buy it through 'Click and Collect,' which I have done with some other items I have bought recently, such as my electric kettle, toaster, and more recently my food processor. It took several attempts to get the website to function and I had to pay 49p with my Debit card as the price of the food mixer was that much more than the number of nectar points would allow. Only possible to use £2.50 worth of points at a time if that makes sense. I eventually got the site to work for me, paid, and then an email to say that I could collect the item after 9 a.m because that was when Argos opened on a Saturday morning.

I needed to go to Lloyd's pharmacy in Sansbury's to collect a ready prescription, Beconase, which my doctor had prescribed when I mentioned the coughing I am experiencing at the moment and discussed during the telephone I had with her on Friday afternoon (I will mention this in the next blog post.) I also needed some shaving gel, because I had reached the end of the current pack and I cannot shave without gel, together with one or two other items. In and out relatively quickly and from there I had intended to drive to Argos, a short trip down Avebury Boulevard, or should have been until I discovered that the road was closed off due to work being done to construct a roundabout and traffic lights on the intersection with Avebury Boulevard and Grafton Street. It took me quite a while to work out a route to Argos, eventually driving further up Child's Way and going 180 degrees round the roundabout on Watling Street and then back towards the city centre and into the turning for Morrisons and through the car parks and park outside Argos. A good 20 minutes wasted in the process and several extra miles are driven somewhat unnecessarily, but I managed to collect the Kenwood hand mixer and return home, having completed the mission. 

later. I had been searching for cardboard bowls. For what purpose? Well, having made those scones I have mentioned in earlier posts, I found what I wanted in Sainsbury's this morning. I am giving them to my neighbours in Dexter House. I am putting the two halves of one scone in each bowl, buttered (actually it's Sainsbury's Olivia spread, but it's about as close to real butter and made of olive oil.) along with a teaspoonful of raspberry jam in an improvised kitchen foil container. I am attempting to be sustainable and environmentally friendly, having my containers fully recyclable wherever possible. My first delivery was to two tenants in the flat below me. I shall continue with further flats as the week progresses.

Now I have the mixer I want to experiment with other recipes. I have done scones before as well as brownies, which I may attempt once again and probably try something slightly more complicated, such as a fruit cake. I've made Victoria sponges, but I will need to buy some new baking tins and I think it's worth buying better quality, made of higher-grade materials because cheap, thin tins rust quickly and don't last as well as better, higher grade tins. It will be worth visiting T.K.Maax or Homesense, which is a subsidiary of T.K.Maax. You can buy some really good quality homeware items in both stores and at great discounts, up to around 60%. Never pay full price on anything if you can get something for a reduced price. 

Easing Lockdown

(Wednesday) So our dear Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, announces in the Commons, that some of the lockdown restrictions have beed eased. The two metre social distancing regulations have been lowered to one metre, but the thought of going to a pub or restaurant is not something I would bother with as it's so complex I'd rather stay at home, thank you.

Blogger, which is owned by Google, and which is what this blog is created on, is to be upgraded, if that's what it's supposed to be called. I have been using it for a good many years and have got on well with it, so why does it suddenly have to be changed so radically? It's the same with Facebook, which has been changed dramatically and is now more difficult to use. I really don't like it and why change things when the work well? You never get any sort of help with how to use any of these sites. It just because they can change things that problems occur. As the saying goes if it ain't broken, don't fix it. You have to learn yourself what the various 'buttons' and gizmos do without any sort of instruction, which is the same with most things you buy, which includes computers. When I bought my iPad recently went of YouTube to learn how to do things.

Out walking with Alfie this morning at about 9.30. We stopped for a rest on the furthest side of Oldbrook Green and sat on the very conveniently placed bench. I was shocked by the amount of litter strewn all over the ground nearby. Somebody had sat and eaten a takeaway meal and there was definite evidence, paper, polystyrene containers, Pepsi bottles and goodness knows what else. As there was a litter bin nearby, within arms reach, it would have taken long to put their debris in this when they had finished, just laziness. I have also seen disposable gloves thrown on the ground, also near a bin. It's not just the fact they were thrown aside, expecting someone else to deal with them, but environmentally harmful, especially if small mammals get stuck in them or try to eat them. I digress- as I seem in the habit of doing, and as I sat with Alfie on my lap, I saw a large lorry moving along Oldbrook Boulevard and turn into Strudwick Avenue and then into the yard behind The Cricketers pub. Obviously about to make a delivery, ready for the pub to reopen since the pandemic restrictions have been lifted. A definite positive sign that things are going to improve.

Later. It's far too hot. Wait a minute. This is crazy. We wait most of the year so we have some warm and pleasant weather, and all we do is complain that it's TOO HOT! The problem I have is I'm more of a temperate person. I don't like getting too hot. As a result of the weather, I decided to pack Alfie into the cage in the back of the car and drive the short distance down Chaffron Way to the Ouzel Country Park. I knew the moment I opened up the car that it was going to be far too much for Alfie and certainly not good for me. I put on sun block, the sort you spray on and donned my sun hat. Alfie was really suffering and so was I. We walked along the gravel path and met a group of ladies pushing someone in a wheelchair and they weren't sure whether they could go through the gates, which I told them it would be fine, so long as they shut them behind them. Some have cattle grids to stop livestock going through. There were sheep in the meadow we were walking through, several groups sheltering under the trees and Alfie started to bark so I decided to walk in a different direction. The sheep began to stir. I don't think they like dogs. I suppose they think of them as a threat. I didn't want Alfie to cause them stress, so I walked on.

I don't think it was such a good idea to bring Alfie out in such heat, or, if it comes to that, it wasn't good for me either. I was told by one of the cardiology nurses who looked after me when I went to a rehab session after my first heart attack in 2006, that I should keep out of the sun and always wear a hat. At one session, when it was really hot, about as hot as it has been today, I very nearly passed out and had to have first aid, which really frightened me.

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.

Roadworks Ahead!

We're back to the sound of merry pneumatic drills outside and 'Road Closed' signs all around Eaglestone. I knew that there was to be some work done because I had a notification through the door by the company doing the work. They are putting in fibre cable for broadband internet. It's being done all over Milton Keynes, so at last the whole place will have faster speeds for the internet. There are bright orange plastic fences up all along the road and weird symbols sprayed on the road surface, really mysterious, and I'm not entirely sure that they are related to the roadworks. I can't see how they manage to dig such narrow trenches to put the cable in, the machine must be quite clever to make such a narrow trench. All round the estate you can see the work has left signs of tarmac when they've dug the trench and then covered it in and they seem to have left a sort of tiny cover which no doubt has a connection if you wish to connect to this service. I still don't understand how the internet works and how, if most of it uses the existing telephone cables (owned and run  by BT and if you choose another provider, BT has to be contacted so an engineer can set up your connection before you can have access to the internet.) and are the ld fashioned metal cables, how can a fibre system not use any of the existing system of cables? They must join up somewhere or other. All to technical for my liking and I still don't see how you can have television programmes and films coming down a single cable and then people sending emails, using Google, Facebook, Twitter and so on.

I had to go out in the car earlier and the road was partially blocked by the roadworks further along the road, but it was possible to get through, although some bright spark has been thoughtful in parking their car in the way. By the way, why are there so many vehicles parked on the grass along the side of Golden Drive? Do they not realise that the weight of a car will eventually break up the surface and cause real damage? Or do some people never think of these things and just park wherever they like, regardless of the consequences?

Having said all this, the workmen don't start work until 8a.m., and don't make too much noise and they have managed to allow traffic to keep flowing and haven't (as yet) blocked the road up so that I can't get in and out with the car.

Willen, Strange Phone Calls and Stents

Not easy writing this blog post. You will have noticed, if you're an avid follower of my posts on here, that I haven't posted anything for more than a week. We now know that Carol's cancer has spread, to her lungs and bones. I'm sorry, but there's no cure, no chemotherapy will destroy the tumour. It's really difficult to put these words on here. All I can do as a good husband is to be by her side, to help her with the pain whenever possible.  She is getting good care at Willan Hospice. We don't know how much time we've got left. It's appalling for me and the family. I have support from my church, Shenley Christian Fellowship. As you will no doubt be aware I have been attending this church since last year and I can't thank everyone there for visiting Carol, either at home, in Milton Keynes Hospital and now at Willen. 

Carol's mum and dad as well as her sister Jackie visited last week (I think it was last week. Time has gone into a sort of over-drive since all this began.) They came up from Bournemouth on the Monday and then stayed with family in Leicester, coming down alternate days and then returned home on the Friday of that week.

On the Tuesday I took Alfie, our Yorkshire Terrier, in to Willan Hospice to see Carol. I had to take him in the cage in the back of the car. No sooner had he got out of the car, than be began to bark noisily. In fact he barked almost all the time he was at Willen. I took him into Carol's room and he licked Carol's hands and face. I think she was really pleased to see him, but was somewhat concerned with him barking. Understandable, really, because we didn't want to upset any of the other patients. The staff loved him and made a great fuss of him, which Alfie, as expected, loved every minute of being stroked and being the centre of attention.

I had a telephone call yesterday. I rushed to pick up the thing, which is in the hallway. I'm talking here about our landline telephone. It's one of those cordless models. which means the unit sits in a docking cradle to keep the thing charged, so you can pick it up to answer and speak and talk anywhere within the house. On putting the thing to my ear there was no immediate response, no voice at the other end. I said 'hello!,' several times, then a further few seconds of silence. A sort of hollow sound, then a really awful, obviously mechanical or at least, recorded female voice said 'Good bye!!' and that was the end to the call. So, can someone tell me, what was it all about? Who on earth would bother to make a telephone call and then . . . .  just silence, followed by the awful female voice saying 'Good bye!' Someone's idea of a joke. If so, a rather pathetic one. What a waste of time and effort.

I've since been on Google to look for 'silent telephone calls,' and according to Ofcom these calls are not illegal, but if you can find out who sends them you can complain to them to get the company involved fined if they make too many of them.

I took Alfie out for his routine morning walk at about 7.15 this morning. Alfie doesn't understand that we can't go out when it's dark. It gets lighter later and later. I'm a bit annoyed that I make a real effort to pick up Alfie's poo and put it in a bin. I always carry at least one black doggy bag in my pocket for this eventuality, but it's unfair that some people don't pick up after their dogs as I see quite a lot of excrement on my walk around Eaglestone Park with Alfie. On the way back along the patch back to the house I am shocked to see a postman delivering mail. I don't think I've seen a postman much before midday around here ever. Certainly not in the time I've lived in Milton Keynes. There was a time once, long ago, when you could virtually set your watch by the postman delivering. In Bedford you used to get a delivery at 7 a.m, more or less on the dot, and then a second one around 11 a.m. Certainly not now. They seem to deliver when they feel like it. The other day we got our post delivered at around 4.30 p.m. which was a real shock.

When I got back home there was a pile of mail on the doormat. One was a package from Amazon, with a book in it which I ordered about a week ago. I am supposed to get stuff from Amazon delivered within 24 hours as I have Amazon Prime. Not really sure what they've been doing with that package. Usually Amazon uses their own delivery drivers for their parcels, but this was the Royal Mail. Never mind. At least I got my order . . .  eventually. But it seems the Royal Mail is slipping.

In that pile of mail I had a letter from the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford telling me that I would need a second stent fitted. No doubt they know what they're doing because it came from Professor Keith Channon, Honorary Consultant Cardiologist and Professor of Cardiovascular Medicine. I would imagine he has seen the scans done when I had the perfusion test done at Oxford all those weeks ago. I did wonder when I was going to hear. I'm not sure whether I will have to stay in hospital after having the procedure done and how I'm going to get there as well as back as I  don't think I could drive in either direction. Far too stressful.

A Tropical Heatwave

I just have to sing the song 'Heatwave' from some musical or other, or 'Too Darn Hot' from perhaps the best-ever musical, 'Kiss Me Kate.' It's because we're enjoying a heatwave at the moment. I love it warm and sunny, but it's been far too hot. With a heart condition I have to be careful in sunshine. It can be quite dangerous. Likewise, Carol, with her health condition. Having been on chemotherapy for over six months too much sunshine can be just as dangerous for her as it can be for me. I don't want to complain about the warm weather. We don't get much decent weather as it is, and considering what we've had to go through during the past year.

It's been a really hot and sticky few nights. Even with the window open in the bedroom and an electric fan on at full blast, it's been rather difficult to sleep. Then you get extraneous sounds coming into the house, adding to further difficulties sleeping. It gets light early, the dawn chorus. Boy, can those little critters half sing? I don't think they sleep. A real racket. No wonder I wake up early in the summer months.

I've continued with the clearing of the brambles and other overgrown plantlife in our garden, such as it is. I did some more work on it early this morning, as it was over-cast at around 7.30. I was determined to get more done as a lot of the stuff I managed to grub out and cut back had gone in our Wheely bin and the rubbish is collected on a Wednesday morning. I had to bring it through the house as we don't have a side gate which would obviously make life easier. The space where the gate should be had to be blocked up when the fence was repaired and it would cost at least £150 to have a new gate put in. Our lovely landlord wouldn't spend out on having this done, I am sure. But it would make our lives easier if we could just push the bin round to the front of the house for collection by the Council workmen. I'm not sure whether they take this every week. I have a feeling it's only taken every fortnight because when I put it out a couple of weeks ago it was either forgotten or ignored by the Council workmen. I have no idea when it's supposed to be taken. But it was taken and emptied early this morning. Which means I can now fill it up again. With more garden waste.

I've been looking for new shoes. I went on line as I wanted something like a trainer but made of leather. Also, with substantial soles, so I don't feel gravel or whatever through them. On using Google I went on the Sports Direct site and found some Sketchers, a lightweight sort of shoe with a more substantial sole. When we went to Waterperry Gardens the other week, no sooner had we parked the car and were walking towards the entrance, across gravel, I could feel the gravel through the soles of my current pair of Adidas trainers. Not good. They are still in good condition. Since I was at school I have always kept shoes I own and wear clean. I use treatment to keep them waterproof and make sure they are polished or at least wiped clean. I don't suppose today's children have to worry about their shoes being cleaned like I did when I was at school. They should do. Having a sort of sense of personal pride should surely be instilled into the younger generation.

I digress. Never mind. Anyway, as I say, I found what I wanted on the Sports Direct website. I could have bought them through the website, but really wanted to try them on. Which you obviously can't do from a website. I could have bought them and tried them on, not liked them, for whatever reason and then had to send them back, which I didn't fancy doing. So on Monday we drove to the retail park at Bletchley and had a look at their vast selection. I found what I was looking for and then tried them on. A very helpful lady assistant got me the second shoe (a size 10 1/2, which I found to be slightly too large. I take a 10. When she came back with the size 10 pair I tried them on and they were perfect, so I decided to buy them, together with a shoe-care kit comprising special 'rain and stain' protector as well as instant cleaning spray.

We went to Frost's garden centre in Woburn Sands this morning. Carol had another scan this afternoon at the hospital and couldn't eat after 2 p.m. We had lattes and really fantastic scones, jam and cream. These scones are larger and far tastier than the average and are to be recommended. Also had a quick browse before we went home.

We decided to drive to the hospital for Carol's scan appointment. We could have walked, but, as it was so hot, it seemed a better idea to go in the car. On getting in the car, which had been standing on the drive all day in the full force of the sun, we discovered it to be extremely hot, rather like sitting in an oven (not that either of us has done such a thing.) I had an idea it wasn't as hot as the previous day, which was supposed to have been the hottest day this year, according to the weather forecast on BBC Breakfast this morning. Anyway, we drove round to the hospital and then had to park outside the scanning department which fortunately has several dedicated parking spaces for patients. I wasn't over-pleased that we had to park on a sloping piece of tarmac, so trusted that Carol had successfully applied the car's brakes, otherwise the car would have rolled forward and crashed through the scanning unit's glass facade. The unit was running approximately 20 minutes late. No reason given, but at least the staff on reception apologised. No doubt this was due to patients being bought in from the hospital wards to be scanned. Carol was soon taken off to be scanned and I was left to read the magazines in the waiting area. It was hot in the waiting area, but the staff closed the blinds and the place soon cooled down. About 45 minutes later Carol returned, the scan having been done, and she had to sit for 15 further minutes as she had a cannula in her arm. They put some sort of dye into the patient's arm (possibly radioactive? I don't know.) and eventually it was taken out by the nurse and we returned home, having had to make a somewhat difficult reverse out of the parking space outside the unit.

A Load More Corny Television Clichés (Usually In Soap Operas)

Why is it that scriptwriters, as well as directors, use lazy clichés in television drama, particularly soap? Things that annoy me such as when a scene is supposed to be night time and the action is outside and dark, it's always lit so that you can see the characters and the action perfectly clearly. Why is it so light? Where is the light coming from? The moon isn't always full at night, or if it is it's not always clear and cloudless. It's just rather corny. I bet if I go outside at night and there's no street lighting and there's the chance of it being a full moon, I don't somehow think I'm going to be able to see that well and certainly not other people, regardless of how close they are to me. And it's always a sort of false moonlight-blue sort of coloured light. Why? If it streetlights it more likely to be that orange sodium light that are more common these days.

Why is it when a character in a drama, particularly a soap, is searching for something on the internet, using a search engine such as Google (although for some reason, another cliche, they never actually use Google, which anyone else would use, they use a made-up search engine which nobody else in real life would bother to use, basically because they couldn't use a named 'brand' particularly the BBC, which tries it's hardest to disguise a known name, otherwise they'd get done for advertising. Probably ITV could pass it off as 'product placement' and then get paid by the company.) Anyway, returning to this character using a search engine. How is it that when they're searching for something or other, they always manage to find exactly the right website and THEN, once they're on it, they find the bit of information they're looking for, if it's a detective story, the detective finds the vital bit of information which will lead to the murderer or whoever. Too corny by half. Another one, when there's something someone wants to hear about, such a news item, how is it, when they turn on the television or perhaps a radio, it just so happens to be EXACTLY the right bit of news on when the set comes on, at just the right time, with exactly the right person or thing that they wanted to know. The headlines on the front of a newspaper just HAPPENS to be about a particular incident, a murder, a police investigation, which is the main subject of a particular television drama, how is it it is on the front of the paper at that particular moment in time, or if it's inside the paper, when a character is looking for it they find it so easily, without making any effort to search for it? If I was looking for a newspaper article I imagine it would take a good deal of time and effort before I discovered it, having waded through many pages before I found it. Totally unrealistic. I realize that television drama isn't always supposed to be REAL, but at least make it believable. I know it speeds up the action, but why does it have to be so UNREALISTIC?

In a soap, particularly EastEnders, so many of the characters find it difficult to communicate logically. Why are they endlessly searching for another character? Why not just use their mobile phone and RING UP the other character or text? Wouldn't you do that in real life? They do seem to spend an amazing amount of time on this search for so-and-so. Again, crazy and unrealistic. Just another cliche.

In soaps, why do so many of the characters put up with the generally awful surroundings they live in? In EastEnders or Coronation Street, why is it that someone like Ken Barlow, who had a degree, became a teacher, then ran a local newspaper (amazing and very unconvincingly, all on his own. How come? Was he editor as well as reporter etc etc.) He then became a local councillor or something, and ended up as a (wait for it) trolley collector in a supermarket! Crazy and unrealistic. How many wives has he had and why has he spent his life living in a somewhat rundown back-street in a Manchester suburb? Why on earth didn't he move away years ago? Totally ridiculous and crazy sort of thing for a man with his academic ability. In real life, how many people remain in exactly the same street they were born and raised in and then went to university and then come home and spend the rest of their life in? I know a soap isn't supposed to be like a documentary, but at least make it a bit more convincing. I know I wasted a lot of my time watching Corrie for years and years, but I haven't seen it for more than 10 years so I'm somewhat out of date with the characters and plots, but I don't imagine things have moved on much.

In other forms of drama there's got to be some sort of journey for the characters to go on as the story develops. The central character has to change as things develop, he/she should be different at the end of the story, at the climax of the plot, to have learnt a lesson to some or a greater extent. In soap opera the characters never seem to develop, to learn from their mistakes and try to change things. They're not supposed to, because the audience expects things to be safe and cosy. To retain the audience it's no good having the characters change too much. That is what makes soap so popular, the fact that you know exactly what you're going to get each time you tune in. It's a sort of familiar and safe place for your returning audience. Make too many changes, such as writing out characters to frequently or changing the location, you'd find you would loose your audience in droves and a soap is really there in the schedules as a ratings winner. The fact that a soap is set in one location, such as a Manchester suburb street, a square in the East End of London means that it's a good deal cheaper to produce with fewer sets which can be reused endlessly and cuts down the expense of producing the show. Also, with a large cast of characters they can have virtually endless plots created for them, even if they are actually recycling the same sort of plots week after week and year after year.

I can see why soap is so popular, but for me they're just full of stock characters and cliched plots that are, as I've already mentioned, recycled endlessly. I can't stand the fact that most storylines go one ad infinitum. I want plots that come to a definite conclusion some how or other and characters that change. We always get a 'big story' breaking over the Christmas period. Who'd ever get married in a soap? There's always a big bust up or some 'reveal' whenever there's a wedding, or someone who's been out of the show for years suddenly makes an appearance or a long-lost relative makes an appearance or the illegitimate child of someone appears who didn't realise they even existed. Or as I say, at the big Christmas dinner there's an almighty bust-up or another 'reveal.' Just think Angie Watts and Den, when Den gives Angie the divorce papers on Christmas Day, perhaps one of the first big 'events' in the early days of the soap.