Changing Weather

(Saturday)I received the new sim from Sky this morning. I can't believe how fast it arrived. I was afraid if I attempted to fit it into the new iPhone I would mess things up as I did yesterday with the sim card that come with the phone, so I went next door and Shelly managed to install it into the phone. I have since used the activation code and have also transferred my number from 02, by ringing and obtaining the PAC code from 02 and have gone through the process to transferring the number onto the new iPhone. It's supposed to take two days for the number to go through, so I will probably have to wait until Monday before anyone can phone me on that number on the new phone. It all seemed very simple and straightforward.

It's another really sunny and mild day here in Milton Keynes. On the BBC weather forecast this morning they told us that we're supposed to get violent winds of upwards of 60-70 m.p.h. over the next couple of days, so that should liven things up considerably. They've named the storm Freya. I don't know who gives them the names, and why on earth do they have to have names? Is it so they can be sort of humanised? To have a personality? Do storms have personalities? Whose idea was this in the first place? Just shows how crazy the world has become.

(Sunday) I wouldn't call it sunny and mild this morning. It's not cold, but there's a sort of drizzle falling. Not exactly rain, but some sort of precipitation. My goodness, a long word used at 7.15 on a Sunday morning! We did our usual circuit of Eaglestone Park, even though I would have liked to have left it somewhat later, but Alfie being Alfie, I took him out as usual.

They're still whittling on about Brexit when I turned the television on this morning. So, I immediately turned it off. It's now doing my head in, the indecision of politicians. Not good for the country, making us the laughing-stock of the world. Crazy.

I may go to London on Friday. One of the walk-on agencies I have signed up to online has what they call an 'open casting' session and if you go along they will take your photograph and up-load it onto their website. This company, called Uni-Versal Extras, are quite fussy about the photograph you upload and I uploaded one and it has been accepted. I need a full length photograph, which is quite difficult to take on your own and get right. So, if they do it, it should be so much easier. I think they want these photographs to look professional, so if they do it, at least it will look better than one you do yourself. I have found the email that the details of their address, which took some doing, as it was a few days ago. I have also found where the session is to be and from that I can find the nearest Underground station. If I get a taxi from home to Milton Keynes station that should make life easier and I have an app on my new iPhone which also makes paying easier as it has my debit card details on it so I don't have to find change to pay when I get to my destination. Getting into London is fairly straightforward and if I know which Underground station to get to from Euston, it can't be much trouble to get to the agency address. If I get there early enough I can go into central London and find something to do like visit a museum or art gallery and make a day of it. I haven't been into London for ages, and certainly not since Carol was diagnosed back in August/September 2017 or thereabouts.

I have done plenty of walk-on work over the years, as you will have learnt if you've read earlier posts. But I haven't done any of that sort of work for at least 20 years. I want to get back into that line of work, if only a day or two here and there. It's getting into an agency which is the problem. I signed up with a couple a few years back, going into central London and on another occasion, Birmingham. Quite a lot of effort to get there, but never actually getting used in anything. They 'put your forward' for stuff, but for some reason you never get chosen. In the past I have been contacted by telephone by an agency and they would ask me if I was going to be available on a given day and if I replied that I was, then you'd know you were going to work on that day. None of this crazy being 'put forward.' If you're a walk-on or 'background,' it's not like having a speaking part. You don't have lines, but you need to be able to take direction, to behave in a certain way on set, and be available at short notice. You can be called very early, probably 6 a.m-8 a.m., and to be able to get up in time to get to the location. There's a lot of waiting about and it can be extremely boring but it can be really interesting to see how they make a television drama, be able to watch the camera crew set up lighting and other equipment. This sort of thing takes time and then when you get on the set they will rehearse a scene, perhaps several times and then 'go for a take.' You have to remember your cues, when to begin walking across, for example, and to not knock into the set or equipment, be able to hit your marks and then, if the take isn't perfect, do it all over again.

Sunday Sunshine

We woke this morning to more news of a terrorist attack in London. Only a few weeks ago another similar attack happened at a concert in Manchester. It makes the heart sink. Our immediate response was to text our children to see whether they were alright. None of them were anywhere near London at the time of the incidents. Just needed reassurance that they were fine. It's getting to the point that you don't really want to switch on the television news as the BBC and other television companies seem to insist on blanket coverage of such incidents.

The day began bright and sunny. Then we had the merry sound of hammering next door. I can't imagine what on earth they're doing. Laying a patio or something and there's a large pile of tiles or bricks for the purpose of patio-laying. On Friday we came back from shopping in town and found a large flat-bed H.G.V. parked opposite the house next door with rolls of turf on the back. I'm not sure if it was intended for 'next door' or not. It's not just the hammering and banging we have to contend with, it's the added music which we have to endure. People can't seem to work without pop music blasting. Well, it's not exactly blasting. As Nöel Coward so succinctly put it 'strange how potent cheap music is.' From his brilliant play, "Private Lives," and actually about his own composition 'Some Day I'll Find You" which was supposed to be playing in the distance, so it was a sort of side-swipe at himself in a way. Irony. Never mind. I digress.

As the morning progressed, we had another load of banging and hammering. Not immediately from next door. Carol said that someone was dismantling a shed a few doors further down. Things can't get any worse, we thought to ourselves. Carol suggested packing things up, a few rugs, cushions, food, books and so on, and de-camping to a secluded spot, possibly in a field, away from the hustle and bustle of the town, in the country somewhere. In other words, somewhere as far from all this noise and annoyance. I suggested Campbell Park. Carol, not too keen. Then we decided to go to Nuffield Health. 

It was a great idea to just swim up and down the pool at Nuffield. Not too many people there, fortunately. I have to say it's a far more friendly environment than D.W. Fitness, which we used to be members of. No children are allowed to this branch at Kent's Hill. You get a towel as you enter. There's no loud booming pop music. The jacuzzi and other facilities are always in good order. Unfortunately, at D.W., the two jacuzzis (spa pools) were invariably out of order or at least one was closed off for some reason. The place was beginning to look tatty, even though it was a fairly new building. At Nuffield there's a spa pool, a steam room and a sauna (D.W. didn't have one).  Anyway, the outing to Nuffield was a good idea. At least we got away from the noise for a while. The shed-dismantling was complete but unfortunately the other sounds continue.

I attempted to read my book. I'm currently reading the fourth book in Peter Ackroyd's series "The History of England." It's called "Revolution" and covers what is called the 'Glorious Revolution' and covers such things as the foundation of the Bank Of England, the beginning os coffee houses, invention of the novel as a form of literature and many other things. But I found it quite difficult concentrating with the constant noise from next door.

Learning To Drive, Lorries and First Cars

I was learning to drive at the time I went off to work as a Student A.S.M. at the Everyman Theatre in 1969 (details of which are described fairly fully in an earlier blog post.) During the season break I returned home and did my driving test in Bedford but failed miserably. Not keeping up with the traffic and failing to turn either right or left when I should have done were the reasons for the failure. On returning to Cheltenham I continued with some more driving lessons and then passed successfully. My parents bought me my first car, a Ford Anglia which came in two shades of green and cost the princely sum of £75. Amazing when you think about it, but I suppose in 1969 with amount people earned per week, that was probably quite a lot of money. I think my first proper wage was somewhere in the region of £10 per week. The cost of a gallon of petrol would probably have been in the region of 30p. That little Anglia, christened Henrietta, got me about quite successfully. It had one peculiarity. When it rained and you needed to use the windscreen wipers, they went fast when you drove slowly and slowed down whenever you drove fast. Don't ask me why. Just the way the car operated. So, if it was raining and you were driving up a hill and in a low gear, the wipers sped up. Going down the other side of the hill and you went a good deal faster, they slowed down. 

It took me a good deal of time to pluck up courage to go off and drive on my own, probably because when you learn to drive you always have someone in the driving seat next to you. When you first learn to drive on the public highway, it takes some time to get used to having cars coming towards you, even if they are on he opposite side of the road. When I did eventually get used to driving myself then there was no problem. That little car lasted a few years. I had it when I worked at Colchester Rep, then Midlands Arts Centre and drove me up to Liverpool. I think that was the first time I'd driven on a motorway. At that time you had to drive through Birmingham because Spaghetti Junction hadn't been opened then so to get from the M1 to the M6 you had to negotiate the centre of Birmingham. It seems so simple now when driving north. When I went to work at Greenwich I had to drive into the centre of London, after one of the shows we did, because I had my own car, it was decided that I could use it to return some props to the suppliers around Covent Garden. I'd never driven into the centre of London before and had to go round Marble Arch during rush-hour which was not something I had ever contemplated doing before (and, frankly, don't really want to do now, as it happens.) I think I just more or less shut my eyes and just went for it (metaphorically, not really, you understand.) I do remember once when I worked at the theatre in Watford having to drive a large lorry into central London with a load of furniture on the back, including a piano. Unfortunately this lorry had a fault. You could only turn off the engine by stalling it. I went with another A.S.M. in pouring rain and we got lost in Covent Garden and went the wrong way down a one-way street and ended up having to reverse out, which wasn't something I wouldn't wish to repeat.

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.

Temp Jobs . . . and other work

I worked for another company as a van driver. It was called Sangers and was based on the Elms Farm Industrial Estate in Bedford. This company distributed stuff to doctors surgeries and pharmacies. I delivered to an area from around St Albans to just north of London, Welwyn Garden City, Burkhamstead and surrounding area. Some of the drivers delivered prescription medication to pharmacies and took orders for products and as a result earned commission, but I didn't, but I think I may have gone on to that side of the deliveries but I think I must have left before actually earning commission. I think Sangers is now defunct, as is A.M.S. Infact, a lot of the companies that I worked for have since folded, which doesn't bode well for any company I have worked for since! I think one of the places I delivered to was Cheshunt. The man who helped show me the route was convinced that it was actually called 'Chestnut' and it took me a while to convince him that it was actually 'Cheshunt'! How ignorant can some people be? 

I would be loaded up early in the morning to begin the round, and you had to be careful as you loaded so that each particular delivery could be differentiated from other deliveries on the round so as not to be confused once I got to a particular customer as it was easy to muddle orders and as a result get things delivered to the wrong customer. This happened on several occasions, so I had to either go back that day and retrieve the item or take collect it the next day. As a result this could put my timing out and I could be later and later with my deliveries. Some of the pharmacies where I delivered could get quite annoyed if I didn't deliver when they wanted to, and one in particular, if I remember rightly in St Albans got quite angry with me when I got to his shop during his lunch break. A bit difficult to arrive exactly at the same time due to such things as traffic and weather conditions. The orders were rung through via telephone, to a bank of telephone operators and these orders were then made up in the warehouse and then placed in the relevant shelving for each particular round and then these orders taken out to each van for delivery.

On several occasions the van would be so over-loaded that it took all my best efforts to keep the van doors at the rear of the van closed securely. So much so that, on occasion I was driving along Dunstable High Street and the doors burst open, and several packets of Andrex toilet tissue fell out and I had to stop and pick them up! Goodness knows that other drivers who were nearby must have thought, but looking back it seems like something out of a comedy movie, but at the time it was just plain embarrasing.