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.

Drama Workshop At Camphill (And A Few Minor Matters!)

Monday. 7.55 a.m. It's a somewhat blustery morning as I write this blog post. Alfie and I ventured forth, as we usually do early morning, to find plastic bags being blown along the path as we walked towards Oldbrook Green. Only a day ago I remember almost slipping over on the paving slabs on the path in more or less the same place where the plastic bag was being wafted about in the breeze. 

A blustery day makes me think of Winnie The Pooh. Disney made an animated film of the A.A. Milne story, Winnie The Pooh and The Blustery Day. I think it was shown in cinemas with a full-length Disney film, but I have no idea what it was.

10.45 a.m. I have had a letter from Milton Keynes Council regarding my rent, which is going up. I couldn't make head nor tail about how much I was actually going to pay, and then I was told that my account was actually in credit by a considerable amount. I had been paying too much. This is good news, but you would think, someone would let you know, probably giving a statement or similar which broke down how much I had paid.

I've taken Alfe out again, and we walked around Oldbrook Green. We bumped into Woody, one of Alfie's friends, a large rather ugly dog, with a flat face, which resembled the dog which appears in the 'Tom and Jerry cartoons. Big, stupid and with a loud bark. Sort of, his bark was worse than his bite. Anyway, Woody comes up to me and gives me a look and thinks he's going to get a treat from me, but I rarely have dog treats in my pockets, so he was somewhat disappointed when I didn't produce one. We walked on around the Green, but it threatened to rain, so we needed to get back quickly. It is really windy and there's a definite chill in the air, almost enough to freeze your face. I think it's very likely we'll get another load of snow.

Tuesday. 6.35 a.m. I was awake in the night. I'm not entirely sure what time it was, but probably around 1.30. There was a sudden rainstorm. I could hear it rattling on the windows, and then I could see raindrops running down the glass outside. As I write this, it's relatively calm and dry, but I expect there to be puddles along the road and possible flash floods around Milton Keynes.

4.30 p.m. I have just got home from a day at Camphill. It's been a really packed day. Terrie has been away for several weeks as her father is ill and has been in hospital. But she was back in charge today. As usual,, we had the regular check-in, which seems to take longer and longer each time. Last week they had videoed an improvised silent film (I wasn't at Camphill last week.) which was shown projected onto the large cinema screen, which is electronically bought in from above the stage level.

Mitchell, who is a third member of the leadership team in the theatre workshop, and who is a musician who created music for 'Twelfth Night', is currently on holiday in Bulgaria with his girlfriend. The holiday was delayed because of the travel restrictions which came in due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The holiday is at a skiing resort, but Mitchell damaged a leg so can't partake in any skiing, so is spending time relaxing in the hotel where they are staying. He had sent Terrie pictures which obviously showed that he was bored, having to sit around in the hotel, so she decided to send him photographs of the drama group on 'holiday', but constructed out of photographs found on the internet and then projected onto the cinema screen and with members of the drama team standing in front of the screen. It may sound crazy, and everyone had fun deciding where they would like to go on holiday. Then Terrie took photographs of the team standing in front of these photographs and in a variety of poses. 

After tea break, Terrie gets us all doing an exercise based on character archetypes, the sort of characters you would find in a silent film, and in turn, as seen in traditional melodramas in theatre, such as 'The Villain', 'The Hero', and 'The Damsel In Distress.' 

After lunch, we had to mime the archetypes, all without speaking. Actually quite difficult.

The final session of the day, this time, after the afternoon tea break, we were broken into groups of about five or six and had to improvise a short sketch, based on what we learnt. I lead one of the groups and the improvisation was about a couple living in a house and not being able to afford to pay their rent and the landlord, the 'Evil Villain' came in and demanded they pay their rent, which had presumably been increased., The 'The Hero' came in, who was going to pay their rent for them. It ended with 'The Hero' coming back and having a fight with 'The Villain' and winning with the two 'Damsels In Distress' (the tenants, smashing 'The Villain' over the head with a saucepan (mimed!) and throwing 'The Villain' out! All through this, I directed the piece.

Milder Weather

Tuesday. 7.55 a.m. It's foggy at the moment. It was something of a surprise when we went out at around 7.10. I hope it clears as the day progresses. It's not too thick, and visibility is about 20-30 feet or so.

6.05 p.m. The fog lifted gradually, as the day progressed, and the rest of the day was bright and sunny and really pleasant. The drive to Camphill was stress-free, with no queuing onto any of the roundabouts.  I think this was because it was half-term, with parents not driving their children to school.

The day at Camphill, in the theatre workshop, was spent reviewing the feedback from the two performances of '12 Nite.' (That was how it was spelt on the programmes and in the media. It was done to show that it wasn't actually as William Shakespeare wrote it, but an adaptation to be performed by a group who have a range of disabilities and for their capabilities.) Ticket sales were amazing and as a result, some £1,200 was made from the total sales. There has been a great number of positive reactions on social media, such as Facebook and Twitter.

During the lunch break, there was an incident, when one of the young men in the theatre workshop had a 'moment.' He got somewhat annoyed and swore at one of the girls, who got really upset, which was totally understandable. There was nothing violent, he didn't hit anyone, but it caused a situation which had to be resolved. As a result, Terrie, the workshop leader, had to get to the bottom of the incident and went off to deal with the young man. Generally, the group are very supportive of each other and there are never any raised voices, they all get on remarkably well together. Terrie had to interview all those people who witnessed the incident, including me, and write a report. 

During the time Terrie was out of the theatre, the rest of the team played a series of drama exercises and games. One, 'Grandmother's Basket' was played, with the team sitting in a circle and one person being given an empty basket and putting in an imaginary item, such as a boo, a dragon, a gold watch or whatever, and then the basket is passed to the next person who has to say the last item added and puts their own item in and the basket passes on round the circle with each person saying the last items and then their own, until it gets to the end of the circle, in this case, myself, who had to remember all the items, which was quite a feat of memory and add my own! I did manage. So glad to be part of all this! 

Then Paul, who is Terrie's assistant, suggested playing a game which might be useful in the development of a silent film which the group might make. The group was split into two and was given a theme for a sort of 'silent' or 'mime' piece. Then each group had to decide how to present the 'them' to the other group, who had to guess what the 'theme' was. My group had to first show a doctor's surgery, so we had the doctor mime, with patients arriving and him checking the patient. The other group theme was a school, with a teacher being the head of the class and some pupils arriving late, but in both exercises, no one could speak. It was a great success and even more than ever showed how well the teams work together. One of the definite positives of Camphill and showing the success of the community.

The afternoon was then spent watching a video on YouTube of a silent film, starring Buster Keaton, which was shown to give the team inspiration for making their own silent film. 

The day ended at 3.30 instead of 4 o'clock because Terrie and other members of staff had a meeting with the lady who is in charge of things at Camphill, to discuss the various things involved with the production of 'Twelfth Night.'

Wednesday. 7.50 a.m. A bright and relatively mild morning, but I did notice that there was a light frost on the grass when I took Alfie out at around 7.10 a.m.

9.00 a.m. The sun is shining, and I'm about to go to Aldi to do a bit of shopping.

11.00 a.m. I'm back from my trip to Aldi. In and out relatively quickly. I made a mess up with a one-pound coin in the trolley. I put one of the two I had with me in the wrong trolley and then found I couldn't release it, unfortunately. It might seem a triviality, but I never have a pocketful of pound coins, probably because I pay for most things with my debit card and usually not with cash. You need a coin for car parking or for these supermarket trolleys, Sainsbury's doesn't have trolleys which unlock with a pound coin, but Aldi does.

Things Can Only Get Better?

Tuesday. 4.30 p.m. Tuesdays are my Camphill days, as you will know if you follow my blog posts regularly. I volunteered to work as a support in the theatre workshop. I've been going there every Tuesday since around April 2019, although I didn't go during the various lockdowns caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. The regular group have been working on a production of 'Twelfth Night', and there are two performances this Friday and Saturday. Today, far more residents were involved, bringing the total in the group to around thirty. Their job is to be the orchestra, provide some music and various sound effects, and be sailors and party-goers in a couple of scenes. Today, the group ran through the play and was supposed to have learned their lines. Some managed really well, although a couple really needed to spend a bit more time learning their lines and also the cues where they were supposed to enter and exit.

Wednesday. 8.35 a.m.  Goodness grief! I was sitting in my lounge, reading. Actually about Milton Keynes, in a book called 'When The Lights Went Out: What Really Happened In Britain In The Seventies,'  written by Andy Beckett. It was a gang of three Mears employees, who come to check the fire alarms. I was told they were coming today when I had a telephone call last week. I was hoping that they might be able to fit the extractor fan in the kitchen, but, pigs might fly, as they say. No hope of that happening any day soon. Now I suppose I'll have to sit in here all day for them to actually do some work. But I thought I had new fire alarms fitted, some time ago. 

It turns out that the old fire alarms were faulty! New ones have been fitted, even one in my bedroom. So, someone sold Milton Keynes Council fire alarms which are not fit for purpose. The Mears electricians have also fitted a device to my alarm system, which I call if I have a fall or some other incident, which automatically calls the system if there is a fire and they call me to find out if I'm alright. I think all this is after the devastating fire that killed 72 people in the Grenfell Tower fire in 2017.

Thursday. 2.00 p.m. I took out Alfie at around 1.30. I saw a van draw up and a host of bright orange hi-vis-clad workmen get out and it was clear that they were going to be litter picking. The amount of litter which is left around Oldbrook Green and on and around the path alongside Strudwick Drive has got worse recently. I think people have just become lazy and the same applies to dog walkers who don't pick up after their dogs. It's not the dogs' fault and the owners should be entirely responsible for their dogs. The green dog bins which are scattered around Oldbrook Green used to have bags which dog owners could use to pick up after their dogs, but it seems they are no longer provided by Milton Keynes Council. No doubt in an attempt to cut costs, but, as a result, it has meant owners have become lazy and don't provide their own bags, hence, no doubt, the increase in dog fowling. There are clear signs around the green that there is a fine if you are caught not complying, but what is the point of this if there is nobody around to police this?

Returning Winter

Monday. 7.00 a.m. Breakfast, on BBC television, when I turn on the television just now, telling us that it's going to get wintry. After several weeks of relatively mild weather, it will be something of a shock

3.05 p.m. A lot of clanging and other extraneous noises were coming from the garden below my kitchen window as I stood at the sink and did some washing up this afternoon. I saw a workman outside, walking across the grass below, dressed in a yellow day-glow jacket. Then scaffolding poles appear over the edge of the roof below the window, and it was clear he was putting up scaffolding. I've been told the roof along the corridor, which is where my flat is situated within Dexter House, has a serious leak. It has taken some time for the Council to get this situation under control and actually get something done regarding the leak, as it is causing further problems because it has been left. There is another workman somewhere about and between them, these two workmen have a radio on which I can hear as well as what sounds like drilling, presumably something to do with putting together the various sections of scaffolding. Probably not drilling, but screwing together the sections. I just hope I don't have to have people looking into my kitchen window, which is likely to happen when they get around to the actual repairs of the roof.

Tuesday. 6.45 a.m. BBC Breakfast is celebrating its 40th anniversary this morning. They have the original blue clock in the bottom right corner of the screen rather than the digital one which is usually in that position. Looking at the footage from that time, it really looks amateur and not the slick professional look we have come to expect.

Wednesday. 8.05 a.m. It was a bit of a shock when I went out to my car yesterday morning at 8.20. I was about to drive off to Camphill, but I found the car's windows frozen, not just on the exterior. There was ice inside, and I had to go back into my flat to fetch the spray de-icer and scraper. It took around fifteen minutes to clear the windows sufficiently so that I could see out and then drive to Camphill.

On arrival at Camphill, I was greeted by some of the theatre gang, who were pleased to see me and when we went into the check-in which is done at the beginning of each session. Terrie, the leader of the workshop, had some great news. Sales of tickets for 'Twelfth Night' are going exceptionally well and some £400-worth of tickets for the two performances. Also, BBC Look East, the local news programme which is on BBC1 at 6.30 p.m. throughout the week, came a few days ago and did interviews with some of the performers and the report will be shown on Look East sometime in the next two weeks.

All the actors have now been given folders with the adapted scripts of 'Twelfth Night', and the rest of the day was taken up with rehearsals of the play.

12.55 p.m. A lot more clanging and banging from the workmen repairing the roof. I wish they would use rubber hammers. The scaffolding has grown considerably overnight.

I have bought a ticket for the matinée performance of 'Twelfth Night", on Saturday, 4th February. This is done via the Q code on the poster.

It's All Action? . . .More like Inaction!

Monday.  2.25 p.m.  Action, did I hear you say? This is Dexter House we're talking about. I have mentioned the matter of the scooter stores, which were built outside against one outside wall of this building. They were constructed because the fire officer did an inspection of Dexter house some while ago, (probably before I moved in more than three years ago), and said that the electric mobility scooters which some tenants use, can't be stored in any of the common areas, mostly in the corridors. They have to be parked there at present, so they can be charged overnight. A great deal of money has been spent building these sheds, which have concrete floors, electric power points, lighting etc, but cannot be accessed from the main building because of ramps and special doors which can be opened automatically so that scooters can get in and out of the building, but nobody at Milton Keynes Council will take any responsibility for paying for the work to be done to install these doors. Total incompetence on the part of the Council to get this work completed. It rather defeats the point of having the sheds built. Meanwhile, it's a trip hazard to have doormats on the outside of flats!!!! Meanwhile, if there's a fire in this building, some of the exit routes are blocked by mobility scooters!!!

I took my car to Bleak Hall Motors for its service, which was booked for 10.00 a.m. I try to get to appointments early so, if there is a chance of them starting earlier, then it's always worthwhile.

The mechanics soon had it in the workshop and I just sat in the waiting room as there was no point going home. I could have walked, but then I would have had to walk back. I read one of my books, which I had taken, and my reading glasses (or, at least, one pair that were usable and not broken.) 

After about an hour and a half, I was told that the brake fluid needed topping up, so I agreed to have it done. The whole procedure was finished by 12.20 or thereabouts, so I paid and left. I wanted to post some Christmas cards, which at that point I hadn't purchased, but I thought I'd get the stamps first and so drove into Coffee Hall, which is opposite Bleak Hall. The post office in the One-Stop shop in Garraways has a post office inside, so that seemed the obvious, and closest place to get stamps. Unfortunately, on arrival, I discovered it was closed for lunch. From there I drove to Waitrose at Oakgrove and got the Christmas cards and a book of postage stamps and as I was driving back home along Chaffron Way I realized that I had left the Sainsbury's bag which I had taken with me to Bleak Hall Motors was still in their waiting area and so I drove all the way back, retrieved the bag containing my book and glasses and then drove home to have lunch which consisted of a sandwich which I had purchased in Waitrose.

Tuesday. 6.25 a.m. It's been raining during the night. I could hear it when I woke up at around 2 o'clock. 

4.40 p.m. The drive to Camphill this morning was virtually free from the aggressive drivers and the long queue getting across the various roundabouts on the way. I imagine this is due to schools being on holiday and parents not driving their little darlings to school.

It has been really sunny and mild today. Considering how cold it was barely a week ago, with snow on the ground and surfaces in some places slippery and covered in ice. It's almost like spring. 

After the usual check-in, we did a game which had a Christmas theme to it. We stood in two lines across the hall, facing each other, and as you were in pairs, facing each other, you had to pretend it was Christmas morning and were giving your opposite number a present, which you had to mime giving to them, and then they opened it and then they gave you a present. A great deal of fun and a good way to use your imagination.

Terrie, the leader of the drama workshop, got the cast of 'Twelfth Night' to do a run-through of the first act of the play. A bit rough around the edges, but everyone remembered most of their stuff, and it was done because it will be several weeks before there will be further rehearsals.

The rest of the day was fun (well, in general, the drama workshop at Camphill is fun in some way or  another .) 

After the tea break, Terrie announced that we were to play the game 'Taskmaster', which was originally on one of the UkTv channels but is now on Channel Four. The idea is that a panel of five contestants are given various tasks and each is scored and the contestant with the most points is the winner. Mitchell, who is a new member of the leadership team within the drama workshop, went off and filled a bag with all manner of items and then the contestants, who sat on the stage, had to guess what was in the bag by feeling it. 

Several more tasks were given to the contestants and after lunch, one more go with a different set of contestants. Then there was Camphill's 'Great British Bake-Off.' I was chosen to be Mary Berry and Mitchell was Paul Hollywood (who are judges in the television show, if you didn't already know.) We made a bit issue of tasting the two cakes which some of the Camphill residents had made, which being definitely over-the-top. The two teams of bakers had to mime making their cakes (similar to how it's done on the television show.) and then we had to mark the cakes. In the end, we decided (at least I decided.) That there wasn't a lot between the two bakes and said that it was an equal win for both.

The final hour of the day was divided between having a dance around in the hall to Christmas music and the final half-hour was taken up with Terrie telling one of her stories which were very interesting and entertaining, by 4 o'clock when the drama workshop ends, it was all 'Happy Christmas!' to all until the group meets up again on 11th January 2023.

All The Right Notes . . . But Not Necessarily In The Right Order!

Monday. 9.30 a.m. It's bright and sunny and unseasonably mild. I can't believe we'll be in December in a couple of days.

Not a lot to report at present. 

Tuesday. 5.15 p.m. Monday may have been somewhat dull (well, life at Dexter House is somewhat mundane, to say the least.) but today has been exceptional.

It didn't start out particularly well. As I've mentioned earlier, the drive to Camphill can be somewhat nerve-wracking. Normally, at a later time of day, it would take no more than ten minutes, but with heavy traffic, it can take twice as long. This morning, as usual, I drove along Strudwick Drive and onto Chaffron Way, but this beast of an H.G.V. came right up behind me. It was not a pleasant experience to have this thing looming over me, very nearly touching the back bumper of my Renault and I was more than pleased that it didn't continue following me as it turn off to the left along Saxon Street at the Eaglestone Roundabout `(also known as 'Four Bridges.')

The traffic heading for the centre of Milton Keynes is heavy along Chaffron Way, Portway and Childs Way. Crossing the various roundabouts along Brickhill Street on the way to Camphill can be quite daunting because you have to judge when there is going to be a gap and then drive forward. It's not great for me, particularly as I was run into twice when I was a home carer and used to drive around Milton Keynes between the various calls I had early in the day. Then there are aggressive drivers, who think it's fine to come right up behind you as you drive (called, I believe, 'tailgating.') Then some drivers don't seem to think you need to stop and wait for traffic to pass on roundabouts and just carry on regardless, which is probably why I got to run into. 

Well, thinking about the drive to Camphill, it wasn't as stressful as it can be, but I'm thinking, 'I thought that Milton Keynes was supposed to not have traffic problems, gridlock and similar when it was being planned in the 1960s.' It certainly doesn't live up to that promise. Some of the roundabouts really need to have temporary traffic lights at critical times of day, which would surely cut the hold-ups with cars bumper to bumper.

At Camphill there are early signs of Christmas as some of the houses have lights strung up on their exterior and on the front of the house which is directly opposite the Chrysalis Theatre, which has the cafe on its ground floor, there are lights strung across the walkways and balconies and a very large central wreath of holly and other seasonal vegetation which is ringed with lights which will only look their best when it gets dark.

The theatre workshop group met in the crypt in the theatre, because the theatre upstairs was being used by another group which came in from outside Camphill, called Phoenix Rising. The crypt is quite a cramped space, which made it difficult to do some of the exercises which we have been doing over the past few weeks, and which I am only just managing to follow.  The art space, a room along the corridor from the crypt, was used so the group could do work on designing their costumes for Twelfth Night, but then I was required to take a couple within the group out for a walk because one of them, who is diabetic, had high blood sugar and some for of exercise, such as walking, will help reduce his blood sugar. So we went out and did a circuit of Camphill and along the Grand Union Canal and past the tree cathedral which I pass on Brickhill Street and then back into Camphill.

Terrie, the leader of the group, was taking each member of the cast of Twelfth Night, into the wardrobe department and going through costumes for each actor in the play. It was interesting seeing what costumes the gang either chose or were given to wear. As this show is supposed to be vaguely inspired by steampunk it was difficult to see the connection, or am I missing the point?

After lunch,  I went with the same set of guys for yet another walk, but this time it was the reverse of the morning's group. I must remember to take a G.T.N. spray, because I began to get a slight angina attack, probably set off by the fact that we were walking much too fast, but it soon settled down. When we got back to the crypt, the rest of the afternoon was spent learning a sea shanty which Mitchell, who is a new member of the leadership group, had written, and it was great to get a chance to sing with the group. Then Terrie started work with the gang in Act 2 of Twelfth Night. The gang is given a sort of outline of each scene and then they start to improvise the scenes and the dialogue. Terrie has got a written text, based loosely on the Shakespeare text. The whole day was absolutely brilliant and I must say, going to Camphill does help my mental health and the group are so friendly and supportive, not just of one another but each other. As a result of all the walking done during the day, I managed to clock up just over 12,000 steps.

Christmas Is Coming!

Sunday.10.15 a.m. I am making an effort to reach my 10,000 steps today and, hopefully, exceed that target. As I write this, the FitBit shows I have done 4132 steps. I have been out with Alfie around 7 a.m. and we have also been out at around 9.15 and did two circuits of Oldbrook Green.

4.55p.m. I have exceeded 11,000 steps (the actual reading from my FitBit is 11,647.) I took Alfie out and we did another two circuits of Oldbrook Green and went around Oldbrook, some way along Strudwick Drive and some other roads. I'm now knackered.

Monday. 10.35 a.m. Here's a thing. I've been to Sainsbury's. I bought some brandy butter. Well, you can't NOT have brandy butter at Christmas, with your mince pies or Christmas pud. On the label, it says 'contains alcohol.' Now, THERE'S a surprise! It's got brandy in it, so it's bound to have alcohol in it. Or is it? I suppose it could have brandy FLAVOUR in it, perhaps essence or something. But what do you expect from it? Tea? Coffee? It really makes you wonder who has the idea of putting obvious labels on things, such as cups of coffee that state, 'hot. May cause burns.' Or a glass bottle, 'will break if dropped.' Doh!

2.45 p.m. The weather has changed considerably. As I write this it's raining and was tipping it down when I went out with Alfie just after lunch.

Tuesday. 7.40 a.m. Fairly mild this morning. Not a lot more to report as I write this

It didn't seem quite as busy on the road, driving to Camphill yesterday morning. There wasn't the great long queue of cars at the roundabout just before the Camphill entrance, thank goodness. Another super day with the theatre workshop guys. The morning was spent with some of the guys being interviewed on video, talking about a show they had done earlier in the year, particularly how much they had achieved, what they had learnt and how it had grown their confidence. I'm not sure where this video will be shown, most likely on YouTube and other online sites and used to show the way drama helps people with learning disabilities and particularly to help with funding and making sure it carries on. A few drama exercises to get limbered up and to help with speech and after lunch Terrie, the leader of the group began working with the group on rehearsing the first few scenes of 'Twelfth Night.' The group are allowed to put their own stamp on things and add their own ideas. It looks very good at the moment. I'm really looking forward to seeing how this show develops.

Wednesday. 7.50 a.m. The weather is changing. I wasn't expecting rain when Alfie and I went out. He soon took me back indoors and is now merrily curled up on the sofa.

9.35 a.m. It's windy. In fact, looking out of the kitchen window, I can see the branches of the trees moving quite vigorously. The sun is now shining, but I don't expect it means it's very warm out.

Thursday. 7.45 a.m. Mild and calm this morning on the weather front. 

12.50 p.m. I've been to the Oaktree Centre this morning to help set up the playgroup. I left Dexter House a good deal later than usual, and as a result I managed to avoid the gridlock which I have to experience in earlier weeks. Then, on the way home at around 11.45 I had to go on a somewhat circuitous diversion because Chaffron Way was closed off at Watling Street. It was really annoying and there was no sign that this was going to happen further back towards Shenley.

5.05 p.m. As you may know (or, for that matter, maybe not) I have an iPad. I bought it during lockdown and it has been used quite a bit and I have uploaded quite a few apps, Facebook, Twitter as well as having The Telegraph app and a subscription which means I don't have to buy a print copy. I had intended using the iPad with an Apple Pencil, so I could use an app called Procreate. I downloaded it and had a look at it, but it turned out the iPad didn't work with the Apple Pencil. I just assumed that all iPads would work with such a device. Both were bought through the online store, Very, so I could pay by instalments. You never get told the basics for such things. I wasn't aware, until a few days ago, that there were so many different iPads in the range. They range from a mini version up to around a 12.5 inch version. Mine is 10.2 and, after some research to discover which version it is, that mine is a seventh generation model and doesn't work with Apple Pencil. I am therefore planning to buy a new iPad which will work with the Apple Pencil. I went into the Apple Store in Midsummer Place and spoke with a staff member, showing her the Apple Pencil I have, which has the special tip missing. It turns out it's a second generation pencil and only works with later iPad models. I had hoped to buy new tips, but they didn't have any in stock. At home I went on Amazon and have ordered some (a good deal cheaper than the Apple store.) and they should arrive sometime tomorrow. I will now order a new iPad and hopefully, the Apple pencil will work with it. (I will be more careful that I order a model with is compatible.)

Camphill Theatre Workshop

Tuesday.6.00 p.m. It's been a very wet day. I've been to Camphill (back in the routine, more or less as it was before lockdown.) The journey to Camphill takes about twice as long during 'Rush Hour', because of the amount of traffic on the road.

As with each session in the drama workshop at Camphill, things begin with check-in, which is when every participant tells the group how they feel and what they have been doing up until that point. There are around 25 people in the group, give or take perhaps three, some are on holiday or at least, elsewhere, and somebody may come to get a taster of the group (rather like I did when I started with the group in around April 2019. I can't believe it's getting on for three years ago.) The check-in took longer than usual, probably just an hour. Some people have quite a lot to talk about. Then, a 'warm-up session is led by Terrie, the new leader of the group. I'm quite used to seeing actors going through something similar before they start a performance when I worked in stage management. It's rather like an athlete warming up before some form of activity, such as running a race. Then, a game called 'Grandmother's Basket', which entails everyone sitting in a circle. The first person has a basket and has to say the name of an object which they have in the basket and mime it (I don't think everyone did this, but never mind.) Then the basket is passed to the next person in the circle, who adds another of their own, as outrageous or imaginative as possible and also adds the previous person's item, and the basket continues around, with each person having to add another item and say the other items that have been added. It gets more and more difficult as the baskets further round. So, you can imagine, with around 25 people, the last person has to remember all the items that came before them. I think the group were quite brilliant at remembering all the items!

Terrie is developing a new show with the group (this had begun well before I returned to the theatre workshop.) which is a pantomime version of the William Shakespeare play 'Twelfth Night.' The group have been each been given their characters and has been working on the way they behave and move. At this stage, there is no written script. Some of the actual speeches will be incorporated into the piece, for example, the famous opening speech 'If music be the food of love, play on!' but Terrie is writing the dialogue so that it fits the capabilities of each actor in the piece.

After the tea break, there was an intriguing game set up on the stage and hidden behind the curtains. When they were opened, we saw the stage scattered with all manner of items, hats, pieces of costume, pots, saucepans, and goodness knows what else. The game we were instructed in was to walk around the stage and pick up an item and, in the manner of clowns, to use the item in a way which was not what it was intended for. You couldn't speak, having to communicate using mime.

After lunch Terrie launched into rehearsing some of the scenes from 'Twelfth Night, breaking down what story elements in each scene and then getting the guys to act out what they had been shown and extracting as much comedy out of the material as possible. 

I have to say since I've been involved with the theatre workshop at Camphill, I have noticed how the group has increased their confidence. In fact, a great deal of confidence is required to stand up on a stage and perform, remember lines and put your heart and soul into what you're doing, and for people who have some form of learning disability, together with communication issues, speech, hearing or whatever, it must be very difficult. That is the benefit of working in some form of theatre, which is what the workshop is all about. 

Another Week (So, What's New?)

Monday 9.40 a.m. It continues to be relatively fine but chilly. It's that time of year when you never know whether to wear a coat or leave it at home. I suppose it's the transition from summer into autumn. Not just a coat, but also an umbrella. Unfortunately, I'm hopeless with umbrellas. I either leave them somewhere or other, get the thing caught in something, like an overhanging branch of a tree, stuck in a sliding door or there's a gust of wind, and it gets blown inside out. How many umbrellas have I seen on my walks around Oldbrook Green, the wrecks of such instruments which have become torn from their user's grasp by a sudden blast?

Driving towards Camphill was crazy. Crossing the roundabout along Chaffron Way which intersects with Marlborough Street can be somewhat hairy, to say the least. It can be somewhat tricky as you can't see vehicles coming around one side and then all the way along Chaffron Way towards the roundabout at Brickhill Street it's a fairly straight run, but in the opposite lane the traffic is stationary, more or less nose-to-tail. There are two more roundabouts, one at Childs Way and the last, Portway, which is the busiest of the lot before I can reach the car park at Camphill.

As with more or less everything which happens in the theatre workshop, the day began with a 'check-in', which is when everyone involved put the chairs into a circle and each person talks about their day, what they have been doing and how they are feeling.

Some drama games were played, some of which I got involved in. One, called EastEnders, is a game based on the infamous BBC soap. I'm not altogether sure of the rules, but everyone stands in a circle, and you start off shouting 'Oi!' at the next person in the circle, and this gets passed around until someone says another phrase (I can't remember this phrase.) Then someone says 'get out of my pub!' or 'You're not my mother!' (all based on incidents in the soap.) It's quite noisy, as you can imagine, but it gets everyone working. The basic idea is to get people who generally have a problem with communicating and, can have a problem with speech, to boost their confidence and increase the power of their voices. It's certainly a good way to get the group to communicate. I'm not so sure if it's something I'm overconfident with, but mostly, for me, it's learning the rules! It's just great to be back at Camphill on a Tuesday and out of the flat for most of the day.

Terri, who is the new drama leader, has started the guys off on rehearsing and devising a panto version of Shakespeare's play 'Twelfth Night.' The guys have their characters and are working on developing their characters. Terri goes through the text of the play and then adapts the Shakespeare lines into something the gang can speak. Some of the scenes are very funny and I can't wait to see how it all develops.

Tuesday. 7.10 a.m. I could hear the wind in the middle of the night. It sounded very powerful and possibly enough to cause quite a bit of damage, with trees being torn down and branches falling. As I write this, it's a good deal calmer, but, when I took Alfie out we had to contend with rain which we weren't expecting.

I was cold when I woke earlier in the night, so I had to put on the much thicker duvet which is kept in the wardrobe. I will need to put in the duvet cover and change my bedding as a result of all this. Not actually one job I enjoy.

1.15 p.m. I have changed the bedding for the thicker, winter, duvet, which was a real effort. Why is this job so difficult? It's easy if you know the trick of putting corners to corners, the corners of the duvet to the corners of the cover. The buttons which do up are a pain, but it's worthwhile and done for a while.

Wednesday. 6.45 a.m. It appears to be a good deal calmer this morning. I can't hear the roaring wind like I did the other night when I woke up. I did one circuit of Oldbrook Green at around 7 o'clock as it was a good deal lighter by then. I don't think Alfie appreciated the walk and came back indoors and went to sleep on my bed.

Thursday. 7.20 a.m. Another totally untypical November morning. It's incredibly mild, with very little wind and no sign of rain.

Friday. 6.25 p.m. Not a lot has happened today. Well, that's life at Dexter House for you. If you want to vegetate, then you can just sit in your flat and bore yourself stupid with daytime television. (There can't possibly be many more programmes about selling antiques or houses that an intelligent person can take, surely? I think 'Homes Under The Hammer' really needs scrapping.) There is a Wednesday afternoon tea-and-biscuits get-together (for want of a name for it.) But it's really not my idea of fun. Attempted to get some sort of conversation going at the first one, but it was a bit like banging my head against a brick wall.

I have joined the Buckingham branch of the Historical Association, which I heard about when I went to the archaeological conference two weeks ago. I am booked for several Zoom lectures as a result of this membership and one Zoom call in December on Capability Brown in Bedfordshire.

The Rain It Raineth Every Day

Monday. 3.20 p.m. The weather has changed considerably. This is quite normal for British weather. One day, dry and sunny, the next, pouring with rain. Which it's doing at the moment. If you could hear, which is obvious because you can't, it is raining quite hard. It rained earlier this afternoon and we had quite a heavy downpour around fifteen minutes later, it was dry and sunny, almost as if it hadn't been raining. As the proverb states quite clearly 'nay cast a clout 'til May be out.' Now, whether that refers to the month of May or may the shrub, I don't know. Shakespeare mentions May in the Sonnet 18, 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?/Thou art more lovely and more temperate./Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,/And summer's lease hath all too short a date.' As I've discussed in an earlier blog post, Shakespeare uses many weather metaphors in his plays. King Lear and his Fool wander the blasted heath in a howling gale. Feste mentions rain  in Twelfth Night (the title of this post is from one of his songs). The Three Witches in Macbeth talk about ' . . .   foul is fair, hover through the fog and filthy air.' I could go on.

I am attempting to find some sort of doggy care for Alfie so that I can visit Worcester to see my grandchildren. As you should have read in an earlier post, I didn't go to Worcester as arranged on Friday. I don't want him to go into a kennel. The thought of him being put in a cage upsets me, and it would really upset him. I would prefer him to go to someone who would care for him in their home. I have discovered people who do this through a search online. Having read their requirements and the cost (approximately £25-£30 a day.) they also require owners to have their dogs vaccinated or the vaccines they already have topped up. Further enquiries I have made reveal that this costs around £75, covering kennel cough. It's because you have to protect your dog and other dogs that may be cared for. Just another expense. 

Tuesday. 6.10 a.m. Another mild morning, but not as warm as it has been lately.

2.05 p.m.The excitement is palpable! The bunting is up. A pile of cakes has appeared in the community kitchen. Tea and cakes are ready for the Platinum Jubilee tea party. What more can I say? Nothing. It all gets underway in one hour! Just fancy!

I'm not sure, but I think I might have just heard a thunderclap. Or something very similar to the sound of thunder. The weather is somewhat wet at the moment, so it might very well be thunder. 

4.50 p.m. We've just had the Platinum Jubilee tea party, Plenty of tea, sandwiches and cakes. HM Queen turned up (okay, it was one of the carers who comes into Dexter House, wearing a Queen mask. Funny. Yes. But slightly sinister. The sort of mask often used by bank robbers.  Also, there was a quiz, 19 questions about Her Majesty, and I won, the prize being a box of Thornton's chocolates. So, the second quiz I've won in two weeks. (Okay, the first one I was in a team.) But even so, not bad to have won, and all my reading of the history of the 20th century came in handy. 

12.35 p.m. I've been to Sainsbury's this morning. I have to say that I find it more than a little annoying that they had to move around many items which have been in the same position on the shelves for more or less all the time I have been shopping there, and now some bright spark seems fit to rearrange more or less everything and make it hard to find some things. What is the point of all this? It's just to annoy your local customers and drive them to probably shop elsewhere. There IS no point. Or, if you're going to do it, at least have some sort of sign up to tell you where a particular item has been moved to.

5.00. I've been into the shopping centre to get my hair cut at Central Barbers. I parked where I usually park and no sooner had I parked than the heavens opened and there was a heavy downpour. I, fortunately, had one of my Regatta jackets in the car, which I put on before walking into the shopping centre, but around two minutes later the rain had stopped, and the sun came out.  I had booked online yesterday so at least I knew I had an appointment, and it was paid. I was really surprised how busy it was in the centre. I imagine it's because it's half-term this week in Milton Keynes and the fact the Queen's Platinum Jubilee festivities are this week. A definite sort of atmosphere in the air. Thank goodness, because the country needs some sort of light-heartedness after two years of crazy lockdowns. 

The Rain It Raineth Every Day!

I start off with a Shakesperean quote! And why not? I think The Bard got it right. It's from one of Feste's songs from one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, 'Twelfth Night.' The quote is now a bit out of date because as I write this. . . . it's bright and sunny!

(Saturday) Well, typical British weather! Today it's foggy when I took Alfie out around 7.15 this morning. No sign of it dispersing. And to cap it all, on BBC Breakfast they're saying there's snow coming in over the next couple of days and an Amber Warning.  Being referred to as 'The Beast From The East.' Seems the trend nowadays, to give storms a name of some sort. So, we're likely to be skating all over the place and snowed under-literally! Just shows how quickly our weather can change from day to day.

10.20a.m. As I write this, the sun is out! Not very strong, but it's dispersing the fog. 

Alfie happy to go out and walk around Oldbrook Green. Stopping every couple of yards to have a good sniff, which to him is happiness. One contented little dog.

The trees and bushes around Oldbrook Green and along the edge of Evans Gate, the road which runs alongside the Green and going up towards Sainsbury's in Witan Gate, has been trimmed by council workmen. They have been using a chipping machine to dispose of the branches of the trees and the chipping are distributed over the ground. Also, the other day they were using a powered cutter on a pole to cut off over-hanging branches on some of the trees alongside the path Alfie and I walk along. It all looks neat and tidy.

(Sunday) Well, after all the expectation of snow, no sign of the white stuff when we went out at 7.30a.m. Apparently Kent is under snow, so there's a chance we'll soon be under six feet of the stuff. But there's a chill wind blowing, so that may bring it in later. Watch this space! The 'Beat From The East' is also called Storm Darcey. I'm not sure whether it's male or female. Is it named after the character from Pride and Prejudice or even Darcey Bussell, the former ballet dancer and Strictly Come Dancing judge? 

(Monday) A fall of snow in the night, but only what I'd term a smattering. We went out as usual, around 7.15, as it's getting lighter earlier and earlier, thank goodness, and there was some snow, but not what you'd call a heavy snow or even much of a covering. But, for all that, it's chilly!

12.25p.m. It's still snowing, but it's a rather thin and pathetic sort of snow. Not the big and bold sort with huge fluffy flakes. Just doesn't cut the mustard and hardly worth getting excited about.

There's a large puddle in the middle of the grass on the opposite side of Oldbrook Green to Oldbrook Green. It seems to appear every winter and was frozen the other day and there have been ducks on it and the other day a large retriever dog was splashing about in it. Typical of this sort of dog, no doubt a Spaniel of some sort. My brother used to have a Springer Spaniel and she loved water. Not sure that the owner was bothered with his dog having a paddle, but I don't think he would have been too pleased with a soaking wet dog and having to get it dried when he got home and the mess the dog would have caused, soaking furniture etc etc. Also, there is a puddle in the middle of the path, near the bench where we've sat on several occasions. The grass on either side is soaking as is most of the grass and it's like walking on wet carpet. There are wheel marks where someone has driven a fairly large vehicle over the grass. No doubt a Council worker, but it has really churned things up and as far as I am concerned, it was irresponsible to damage the grass and mess up the environment. They could surely driven the vehicle around the Green without churning up the ground.

(Tuesday) Out with Alfie at 7.15 this morning. I got ready to go out, all togged out as usual, walked through to the lounge. No sign of Alfie anywhere. Under other circumstances he would have been barking and jumping on the sofa ready to be taken out, but I find him sleeping in his bed! Then he sees me and starts his barking and excitement. So we go out and find that most of the snow has gone, although it's still chilly. I think we're bound to get more snow. Just seen Carol Kirkwood on BBC Breakfast, giving the weather forecast and saying it's likely to get worse.

Yet Another Week of Lockdown

(Thursday) I've been to Waitrose this morning. There's things I can't get elsewhere, such as soap and I like their bath foam. Good value, considering it's  a Waitrose Essentials product. There was the obligatory queue system to get in, similar to that at Sainsbury's. I was in and out quickly and I used a manned checkout as I'm not sure about the self-service machines. It was a clear run down Chaffron Way and it was odd that there was virtually no traffic, as Marlborough Street, where it crosses Chaffron Way, is usually chocker-block at around 8.30a.m, which is around the time I'm driving to Camphill on a Tuesday morning. None of the nose-to-tail along the road, people obviously going to work. At the moment they will do doubt be on lockdown.

(Friday) Seems amazing to think it's 1st May. How did we get here so quickly? It doesn't seem that long ago that we were celebrating Christmas.

I'm having a bit of a Shakespeare festival currently. I know it was The Bard's birthday last week (how old would he have been? I think around 456 or something like that.) and I watched the National Theatre's production of Twelfth Night with Tamsin Greig as Malvolia, The Globe's version of Romeo and Juliet and, on BBC iPlayer, 'Hamlet.' As for other productions, available, free, on YouTube, I saw the National Theatre's 'Frankenstein' with Benedict Cumberbatch as 'The Monster.' It was a good production (I say 'was' because it's no longer in the National's repertoire. I'm not entirely sure how long ago it was on. I believe Twelfth Night was around five years ago.) but the only problem I have with watching via YouTube is that it doesn't work too well. I suppose I shouldn't look the proverbial gift-horse in the mouth, but generally speaking you don't get the full 'live' theatre experience seeing these plays on television. Well, you can't expect too, but it's great that they are recording these performance because once a live show finishes, there's usually no record of it for future viewing or for future generations to enjoy or for those who wouldn't normally go to the theatre.

(Saturday) It doesn't feel like the weekend. It doesn't feel like any particular day of the week. It's probably due to the lockdown, when each day seems to melt into one another. There's no focus to the week, such as going to Camphill on a Tuesday or church on Sunday.

I have been watching 'The A Word' and today watched two more episodes of the first season. I know there's a new, third, season due to start in a week or two so I want to have watched the second run before getting to the new season. Having worked almost exclusively with people with autism, I can identify with the problems of the family it's about. The little lad who plays Joe is amazing. I can't think how they get such a brilliant performance out of a child of around 5 or 6. They must have a great deal of patience.

(Sunday) I was out with Alfie before 6 o'clock this morning. He kept looking at me, which is usually his way of telling me he needs to go out. It was quite mild, thankfully. I usually do washing up from the night before, so I did that and the kitchen is again sparkling clean.

I have now seen the final episode of the first run of 'The A Word,' and I will start on season 2, probably this afternoon. I don't watch episodes back-to-back, but iPlayer almost insists that you with the next episode as soon as the previous episode is finished.

Having the windows open has it's disadvantages. Some delightful person drive up in their car and parked right below my window and had thumping pop music playing on their radio (it might have been a CD or from a mobile, but never mind.) This sort of thing is annoying. Please don't do this at such an hour of the morning. But Noel Coward was right when he said 'strange how potent cheap music is,' which is a line from his comedy 'Private Lives.' Just awful thumping news. People never play something calm, a bit of Beethoven or other classical music, and why play it so loud that it interferes with out people's lives, and in my case, concentration?

Having had a scan of what's on iPlayer, there is no excuse to say 'there's nothing much to watch.' Just overwhelming by the stuff you can watch.

Alfie insisted on another outing, as he was staring in his usual way so I felt obliged to take him out as soon as I'd finished watching 'The A Word.' I have to say, having worked with people with autism, it seems a very accurate portrait of someone with the disability. I'd be interested to know whether the writer had first hand experience of life with an autistic.

Reading and Viewing- Part 2

Then there's Doctor Who. There's always Doctor Who. I have written about this venerable BBC Television show in an earlier blog post, or at least, the current run. I'm not really sure about it. I have no problems with The Doctor being a woman. Why not? At first I was not sure, because the part has always been played by a man. But if the character is alien, and can regenerate every few years, there's really no problem as regarding gender. The problem I have is with the half-hearted stories and scripts.  But what I do object is having so much political correct nonsense shoe-horned into the stories. Whether it be racial politics or environmental issues, why does it have to become a sort of lecture? It was always intended to have a certain amount of educational value from the very beginning, to teach children about various historical events, if it's about the Romans or other eras of history, but in the early days it was secondary to the stories in the different time periods the Tardis delivered it's passengers.

Why so many assistants? Three is superfluous and their backstories are so vague. Just don't see the point of so many. There were multiple assistants in Peter Davison's era. It seemed unnecessary then and it's the same now. The Tardis just seems over-crowded somehow and it's just unnecessary.

I have watched the final, fourth, season of 'The Man In The High Castle,'  on Amazon Prime Video. The first 3 seasons were good and I got hooked. But the fourth doesn't have the same appeal somehow. It petered out towards the end and it wrapped up far to quickly, almost as if the makers knew that it was coming to an end with no continuation so they had to tie things up in the last couple of episodes. But we still didn't get a proper explanation as to how the films were infiltrating the real truth and the time-shifting/multiple world element wasn't explained properly, but it was still worth watching.

'The Last Tango In Halifax\ has returned this week on BBC1 and this time given a Sunday evening slot in the schedules. This is the 5th season of the Sally Wainwright created series. Rock-solid characterisation and pitch-perfect acting from the ensemble cast, lead by Derek Jacobi and Sheila Reid, who re-connect via social media after 50 years apart and then marry. I just love this series. It's real, sad and funny all at the same time. I think it's what they call 'Bitter/Sweet.' By which I mean that it has elements of happiness, comedy, elation but the next it has feelings of sadness, regret, all tied up in one happy bundle. It's what good drama should be, not just plain, laugh-out-loud funny, but poignant and sad underneath the humour. Shakespeare does it in some of his comedy, particularly 'Twelfth Night,' which has all these elements. I means you recognise these elements and it makes it work perfectly. 'Last Tango' may not have particularly strong storylines, but it has a definite, 'can't-wait-until-the-next-episode' appeal, but you can't help loving the characters, along with all their foibles and flaws, which we can definitely recognise. I can really recommend it. 

Remembering Carol- Part 1

Today, 7th March 2019, would have been Carol's 55th birthday. I miss her so much, we had a fantastic marriage. We had  only recently had our 11th anniversary in the May, barely weeks before she was diagnosed with colorectal cancer. I'm not going to dwell on that. I want to celebrate her life, how she had such a sense of fun and spontaneity. 

We met through a Christian website called Fusion 101 in 2006. At the time I was working as a live-in carer for a young man with cerebral palsy. I stayed in his flat 24 hours a day and worked two weeks on and then one week off. I had started chatting to Carol via the internet and we discovered fairly early on that we had a lot in common, such as theatre, art, literature and just life in general and above all, that we were both Christians, which was very important to both of us. I then stopped chatting when I went off to work with the young man in Milton Keynes, bearing in mind that this was before smart phones and other devices that you could connect to the internet, so we weren't able to continue chatting. I had a computer connected to the internet at home in my flat, but this was well before wifi which is so easy to connect to than having your computer connected physically to an internet connection using a cable. Carol was working as a humanities teacher at Stantonbury school in Milton Keynes. She was having trouble teaching 'Twelfth Night,' but had absolutely no experience of teaching Shakespeare, even though she was expected to teach this as part of the humanities curriculum. Because I had such a huge interest in Shakespeare and had studied 'Twelfth Night' from G.C.E. Literature level right up to degree level, I was able to help her with lesson planning and understanding the text of this play. So we had that in common.

So there I was in mid-May in 2006, working with that young man in his bungalow in Milton Keynes. This particular week I was coming to the end of my stint and would have gone home on the Monday of that week and to be replaced by another support worker. But on the Saturday that week I began to get a pain in my chest. The previous week I had a bout of bronchitis and had almost got over it. I couldn't return home, because I realised that it would be difficult for the agency which I worked through would't have been able to find a substitute to take over from me. So, when I had this odd pain in my chest, I was assuming it was like heartburn or something related to the bronchitis. It didn't go away, so I walked to the local Tesco's to buy some mint tea, because I had used this in the past to relieve heartburn. But it didn't relieve the discomfort.

When I got back to my flat in Bedford I made an appointment with my doctor and mentioned the odd pain in my chest. I was given an examination but the doctor didn't say what it was. I think I had to have a blood test, but honestly don't remember. All I remember was that I was given a prescription for something called a G.T.N. spray and was told that, if the pain continued and didn't go away, I should read the instructions to use the spray, a few squirts under my tongue and rest for 5 minutes until the pain went away. I don't think the word 'angina' was mentioned, or if it was, I have no recollection and I certainly didn't connect it immediately with having a heart attack. You would have thought, as a carer I might have done, or from memories of my mother who had regular angina attacks, but that was in the late 1980s, well before the sort of mediation we have today. The fact is, that night the pain in my chest got worse and worse, but being me, and doing what most men do, or are supposed to do, I imagined it would go away. Ignoring it was the only option. I didn't want to ring 999 as I should have done, the thought was, I didn't want to bother anyone. I could cope with this thing on my own. But I couldn't. By around 6a.m. I just had to ring 999 and call and ambulance. It's just as well I did. The paramedics arrived, by which time I was hyperventilating and it took them some time to calm me down. I was taken downstairs to the awaiting ambulance which was parked on the grass outside the block of flats where I lived.

I'm going on a bit here. I hadn't meant to. But it explains how Carol and I met. Anyway, I was rushed off to hospital, where I was given the message that I'd had a heart attack and stayed there for a week. Meanwhile Carol must have wondered what had happened to me. Perhaps I had lost interest. She had no idea where I was or what was going on.

I eventually arrived home, not in exactly top condition health-wise. I wasn't particularly strong and could hardly walk. I was given a load of medication to take which I was told I'd have to take for the rest of my life and  that  I wouldn't be able to drive for at least a month, which was difficult, because I'm quite an independent person and can't stand not being able to get out and about. Carol and I continued to chat via the internet, for a few weeks. The one day she said 'I'm going to phone you.' So she did, and it was the fist time I heard her voice. She said 'come to Milton Keynes and we can meet.' So, it just happened that I was okay to drive, more than a month since I had the heart attack. She said 'meet me at Furzton Lake.' I didn't have the faintest idea exactly where that was. Today you'd use Google Maps, or if you had one, a SatNav, but it was well before this sort of technology was available. It just shows how much we rely on it nowadays to find our way about.

I went to the wrong carpark. I went to Caldecotte Lakes, the place with the pub with the windmill on the top. I'm not sure if it's original or a sort of reconstruction, but does it matter? Then Carol telephoned me on her mobile. 'Where are you?' she asked, and I told her. It wasn't Furzton Lakes, as I soon discovered. She turned up in her car, along with her dog, Poppy. What was she expecting? Tall dark and handsome? Driving a B.M.W. or some open-top spots car? No. Instead a clapped out Renault 5 and a similarly-clapped-out bloke who could barely walk properly since his heart attack. I certainly wasn't at my best, so it wouldn't have surprised me if she'd taken one look and driven away, but she didn't.

We went for a walk, although I wasn't exactly steady on my feet. We took the dog with us and she jumped in the lake, which added to the fun of things and got us talking. She (the dog, that is.) come out of the lake and shook herself, most of it all over me, so that was a good start to things. We went into the pub to have a drink and continued to talk.

I can't complete this in one blog post, so I'll have to continue in a second post. There's so much I want to write about, which can't be done in just one post.

'The rain, it raineth every day'

What a change in the weather! From almost spring-like to howling winds and pouring rain. Typically British I suppose. It's what makes this country the way it is, green, rolling hills and dales. Lushness. Verdant. There is a warning from the Met Office that we're in for severe storms. They've named the storm Doris. So, it's a Doris Day. Nothing to do with the sweet and sugary American actress and songstress of the 1950's and 60's. Snow in Scotland and whirling winds across the rest of England and Wales. Batten down the hatches and settle in for the worst of it.

I've entitled this post using a quote from William Shakespeare. That's from one of Feste's songs from "Twelfth Night" which is one of my favourite plays. There are many more references to weather throughout the Canon. Look at 'King Lear.' 'Blow winds and crack your cheeks.'  At the beginning of 'Macbeth' we meet the Three Weird Sisters. The mood and tone of the play is suggested by their mention of the weather in the opening lines 'When shall we three meet again/ In thunder, lightning or in rain?' In Lear the weather suggests Lear's state of mind. When he's on the heath with the Clown, he's wandering about in a state of madness and the raging wind suggests his state of mind. We are obsessed by weather in this country, probably because the weather is so central to our lives. My father was a farmer and was always going on about the weather, because it was so important to how the farm was run. No good trying to get in the grain harvest if it was pouring with rain. There was one of those old fashioned barometer in the passageway at the rear of the house where we lived. He would go out and tap it and then you'd hear him mumble something on the lines of 'ruddy weather!' or 'Better weather.' Or whatever. I never understood what that was about as a child, but he could be extremely moody and I think now that this was down to the weather. I think I'm similar in some ways. I'm better when it's sunny and bright but become somewhat more moody when it's rainy and wet. Well, if it means you can't get out and about when it's grey, wet and gloomy, it's bound to effect your mood. Also, I think I'm effected by seasonal variations, particularly when the clocks change in October (usually around the time of my birthday) when the clocks go back an hour. It's generally darker and colder which has something to do with it.

As I write this the sun has come out. It's bright and streaming in through the window. I've had to draw the curtains to stop it shining in my eyes. It's shining through the trees along the Redway behind the house and as the branches move it's making the light flicker somewhat annoyingly. Which is why I drew the curtains. It was pouring with rain as I took Carol to work at Milton Keynes Academy earlier but, as I say, it's bright sunshine now. I think the wind has dropped. It just shows how quickly the weather changes.

The Rain it raineth every day

The weather has been absolutely awful for the past couple of days. Rain, wind and now the possibility of snow. Actually it has been quite a mild winter up until now. So mild, intact, that I've actually seen new growth, almost like the first signs of spring. I'm not sure whether this is correct, but not what you would expect to see in late January. No doubt if we do get snow and a really hard frost it will kill off any of this greenery.

The title for this post seemed so appropriate, considering the amount of rain we've been having recently. The line comes from one of my favourite plays by Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, and is one of Feste's songs. The first verse from which the quote comes from is as follows:

When that I was a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

I suppose it's not so surprising that he uses weather so much as a metaphor in his plays because in this country our weather plays such a central part in our day-to-day lives and makes the British what they are. You only have to look at the British landscape to see how the weather has made the scenery what it is.

There are plenty of other references to the weather in his plays. In King Lear, Lear wanders aimlessly on the heath with his companion, The Fool, and the following is another quote which has weather in it:

In Act 2 Scene 7 we have the following:

The storm continues to rage. KENT enters in disguise.

The GENTLEMAN enters from a different direction.

KENT: Who's there, besides foul weather?

GENTLEMAN: One minded like the weather,

Most uniquely.

KENT: I know you, where's the king?

FIRST GENTLEMAN: Contending with the fretful elements;

Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea

Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,

That things might change or cease; tears his white hair,

Which the impious blasts, with eyeless rage,

Catch in their fury and make nothing of;

Strives in his little world of man to out storm

The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. . . . . 

Then Lear has this speech:

Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You cataracts and hurricanes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ungrateful man!

Then, further on in the scene The Clown has one of his songs which seem very similar to Feste's in Twelfth Night. I never know what function he has. Is he like a chorus, commenting on the action within the play? A lot of his songs have a sort of melancholy about them. As for Lear's Clown, he does have a purpose as he helps Lear and sort of counters his masters madness. It interesting that both plays deal with sanity. Infact, thinking about it, Hamlet is probably the most obvious of Shakespeare's plays to deal with madness. Although, is he really mad or is it feigned? As for madness in Twelfth Night, Malvolio's madness is brought about by Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek and Maria's treatment of him in the Sir Topaz episode.

The song of Lear's Clown I refer to is this:

He that has a little tiny wit,
With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
For the rain it raineth every day.

It is interesting that Shakespeare uses the weather as a sort of metaphor for Lear's madness. The descriptions of the weather in the play is very much how I would describe the current weather in Britain. Whether it could be used as a metaphor for the current world situation, whether financial, political, moral or whatever is open to question.

It's interesting to note that in television plays, cinema films, novels and other works of literature or creativity how authors and directors use weather as a sort of metaphor, for example rain clouds rushing past, usually in fast-motion (something of a cliche I know.) to represent something doom-laden is about to happen, such as the build-up to some tragedy, the start of a battle or a war, or a character is going to do something horrible such as a murder. Then, sunshine, brightly-lit scenes of countryside, represents happiness, pleasant happening etc. Never was this more obviously used in books by the Brontes, Wuthering Heights is a good example. Or mystery, suggested by fog, mist rising, bats flitting by a full moon with scudding clouds. All a bit corny and obvious, but we know more or less what is going to happen. If you have a miserable character standing by a window and it's raining and the rain is running down the window panes they can be seen to probably represent tears. Again, dreadfully corny. I could do a whole post of cliches. I think I might just do that.

Oxford Outing- Part 1

On Saturday we decided to have a day out and went to Oxford.  The last time we went  was almost exactly one year ago to the day, and as I have a free bus pass (one has now got to the age where one gets such things.) it seemed a good idea to leave the car behind, oblivating the necessity to not  only j driving there but also find parking space, even though there is a 'park-and-ride' scheme in operation in Oxford (we have used this on several occasions.) We got the bus from just outside the Academy in Saxon Street and arrived at Milton Keynes railway station and then had to wait before the Oxford bus came in. It arrived within about ten minutes and then we were off, going through Buckingham on the way, which we drive through on our way to Stowe Landscape Garden, one of our favourite National Trust properties. One advantage of being in a bus is that you sit up a good deal higher than you would if you were in a car, so you can see a good deal more of the countryside and in particular you see over hedges that grow alongside the roads you drive along. We went through Bicester (I went there to do induction for one of the care agencies I used to work for. A bit of a waste of time and effort if you ask me because I didn't get much work out of them as it turned out, but that's another story which I may or may not discuss in a future post.) We went past Bicester Village, the outlet shopping centre as well as Bicester Avenue, which we visited earlier in the year, which is fairly new.
We arrived in Oxford at around 10.00 and had need for the use of the toilets. Sorry to bring this up, but it seems to be a necessity of both of us. We knew that there were toilets in the bus station (where the bus came in at Oxford) but we soon discovered that there was some building work going on there and the toilets were out of operation. They had managed to put notices up telling you where the alternative toilets were and when we got there was a queue of people. On our way home on the bus we realised that there were toilets on the bus itself so that was one problem solved on the way home.
We have visited Oxford on several earlier occasions, a few times to Oxford Playhouse to see productions of Shakespeare plays produced by the all-male company, Propellor, in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and "Twelfth Night." We saw their version of "The Taming of The Shrew" a couple of years ago when Carol was teaching at Stantonbury Campus and we managed to get tickets through the school and went on a coach trip to see that show at the famous Old Vic theatre in London, which was a real treat. The last show of theirs we saw was "Henry V" a couple of years ago when they came to the Milton Keynes Theatre. So we know Oxford fairly well. This time we wanted to visit the Oxford Natural History Museum but weren't sure exactly where it was, so we spent quite some time wandering somewhat aimlessly around the streets in an attempt to locate it. We eventually managed to find it on a map but it was quite a walk out from the city centre and then discovered that it was CLOSED due to the roof being repaired which was something of a disappointment but there was an event going on outside the museum, I believe something to do with the friends of the museum or something, where there were stalls selling food and exhibits and managed to get pizza and something to drink because by now we were hungry and thirsty and it was quite a warm day and all that walking had taken it's toll.