I think that perhaps I don't really have the hang of this blogging thing. I hear that it is traditional to update more frequently than once every other month. Actually, openings like this are getting a little tired, aren't they? Alas, I do not predict that they will become a smaller proportion of my blog entry openings, assuming that we take what has happened in the past to be a good predictor of what will happen in the future. Perhaps I should just stop lamenting my lack of updates, and just pretend that any entry I post is, in fact, arriving at an eminently suitable time. So I shall start again.
Things have been getting better, slowly but surely. I am now doing one day per week of work experience at a not very local organ builder firm. This appears to be going well. I have learned that organ pipes are very dirty things (and am about to learn about the power of search engines to lead inappropriate traffic to my site, no doubt), and need to be cleaned very thoroughly via a variety of different methods, including poking with a paintbrush (or bottle brush) to dislodge the dirt, vacuuming the dirt away, blowing the rest of the dirt away (blowing is not the first step, because that would be very messy!), washing with a strong solution of specialist pipe cleaner (aka industrial strength floor cleaner) and wiping dry. Sometimes I even get to use a q-tip in the mouth! Of the pipe, that is, as opposed to my mouth. Not always a good idea to put q-tips in one's mouth in such a manky place; it would probably be very good for the immune system, but it might cause some damage on the way.
I am also settled in a new house. I have a room to myself, of course, and also a share of the rest of the non-bedroom rooms within the house. I am living with two other people and a dog. None of them dribbles, that I can see. I wasn't really worried about the housemates, but dogs can sometimes be slobbery little things. This one is well-behaved and friendly, but not excessively so.
My room is great. It's not very big (I have had to get rid of a lot of my things!), but the bed is comfy, there is room for my chest of drawers and single bed settee, it comes with decent bookcases already (and my colourful wool collection looks great displayed in one of these), and it is well-decorated. Like a student, I have my alcohol collection on my window-sill.* Alas, I now have an alcohol problem: it can sometimes be difficult to close the blind behind the bottles.
There is another disadvantage within my room - I am very kindly storing a bookcase for someone, and the only place for it to go is in front of my radiator. This means that I am not turning on my radiator, and my room is the cold one. Meh. It is going a week on Thursday, so not long to put up with it now!
Serena and Heather have both moved Down South. This means that I am somewhat lacking in local friends. I am dealing with this by talking for far too long on the phone to people who is not Serena, nor Heather, which is great but will probably start to annoy my housemates very soon. Time for a new mobile phone, methinks.
It is very strange having two of my closest friends so far away. When I am in my previous neighbourhood, I expect to be able to go inside a couple of the houses there and I can not. Sunday afternoons between church and more church are not the same without Heather with whom to drink coffee and giggle about silly things. Nobody ever makes me cups of tea nowadays, with the exception of my parents.
Speaking of whom, they have scaffolding up the front of the house at the moment. Anne has grand plans to get herself killed off before her thirteenth birthday by climbing up the aforementioned structure. I am to provide my harness (she has her own) and rope, and shall insist that she wears my helmet. Apparently Father is not impressed with the idea - he thinks that the little fatso** will wobble it and bring it down. Not sure if Anne is perceived to be the victim here, or if it's the scaffolding, the house, or the car parked on the lawn. I think that perhaps the scaffolding will withstand the efforts of a twelve-year-old girl to scale it, especially if she doesn't throw herself about much. It will need to be checked out thoroughly, of course, but I am hopeful. It's a shame to deny little children the chance to climb large structures.***
The next day, assuming Anne survives her trial, will involve me taking her birthday shopping. This is an excellent plan, as it means that I don't have to think of what to get her for her birthday. Also, it should be fun. We will have to have an early start, though, she needs to be returned and fed by 1pm, before being packed off for more birthday fun. At least that's what the parents seem to think it will be: Anne doesn't seem entirely convinced. Well, it's not her birthday until next Tuesday, so she can jolly well just grin and bear it.
In other news, Robert has communicated with Louise, and bought birthday presents for her on behalf of us all. It's her birthday tomorrow. This is the second unprovoked communication I have heard of between the two of them recently - it's almost as though they like each other. Weird. Mother thinks that perhaps they are growing up. I wonder if one of them has been taken over by aliens. Couldn't say which one *coughRobertcough*, but it's a theory.
Organ stuff is really starting to build up now. I am playing at the Motherchurch before the service this Sunday evening, I have a whole service to play for myself on 31st October, I have quite a bit to do in the first Advent service at the end of November, I shall be doing most of a Christmas carol concert on 6th December (ooh - that will be an excessively busy weekend), and I am playing for the wedding of some friends in early January. Plus some other stuff. On the plus side, I do appear to be improving - I played the introit at the Motherchurch a couple of weeks ago, and apparently got all of the notes right. It was pretty much in time, and sounded as though an actual organist was playing. Result!
I do need to step up the amount of practice I am doing, though. It's very hard at the moment, as I appear to be even more busy than I was in June, before I cut down on my commitments. I am excessively relieved that I did cut down on my commitments - I dread to think what life would be like had I not done so.
So yes, life is more or less pootling along nicely now. Well, as far as I am going to discuss it here it is, anyway! Certainly things are more calm and under control. The car has new windscreen wipers, and everything! Not new tyres, but we have to take thing one step at a time so as not to become overwhelmed.
*OK, so this is not really true. The majority of my alcohol collection is in my parents' house, in their top kitchen. I have no idea how quickly those bottles are going down, but as the important ones reside with me that shouldn't be too much of a problem.
**Extreme sarcasm. She's quite skinny.
*** :-p
Showing posts with label Heather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heather. Show all posts
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Sunday, 7 December 2008
The carol service
Today was the day of the Christmas carol service. As you may be aware, I was feeling a little apprehensive about it, on account of being unable to play several last verses reliably without a congregation attached, let alone with one. Some of my other pieces were also decidedly dodgy. I was rather worried that I would play a wrong note at some point which would set a domino effect in motion and mean that I was unable to find any more right notes for the remainder of the verse.*
With this in mind, I was quite relaxed when I went to church this morning, except for the tension caused by my being late because I was tired and did not get out of bed on time. Again.** This morning's service seemed to go well - the vicar was a visiting one and she was lovely. She also sang very loudly, which gave the congregation a boost - it's not an overly enthusiastic congregation, singing-wise. My playing was fairly bad in terms of percentage of correct notes (the voluntary on the way out was so bad I gave up trying and made sure that I at least approximated one note out of every six in the last few bars - this did not make me feel hopeful about my playing in the evening), but the vicar said that it sounded good despite the woeful lack of tuning displayed by the organ (which is getting so much worse - the notes in the middle are out of tune now, too, not just the ones at the top of the keyboard). When I become an organ builder, that organ will see some changes. Except that I won't be in the area. But I digress.
After the service I had a quick practice session, and established that the pedal board on my organ is in bad shape, which did not come as a surprise. I have obviously been practising in great luxury on the chapel organ, which does not have wobbly pedals; I have been quite spoiled. The adversity is good for me, though - teach me to thrive in difficult circumstances. Eventually. I only played for about forty minutes to an hour, which went past surprisingly quickly (that is apparently what panic will do to me), as I needed to get lunch and my wrist was hurting.
I then went to Marks & Spencer and got a tasty risotto for lunch, which Heather and I heated up in her two microwaves (I know - such luxury!). It was very satisfactory, and much cheaper than eating out. Having checked my bank balance, I was in the mood for cheap.
After lunch I went to the chapel for the final rehearsal. I actually arrived 30 minutes early, which was very pleasing; I knew that the time of the rehearsal had a 3 in it, and sincerely hoped that it was 3.30 (it was) , but couldn't swear that it wasn't quarter to three. I arrived at 3, and got to hang around aimlessly for a bit.
We also rigged up a special system to hold the pages of my book open. I have no idea how familiar you are with the anatomy of a music stand on an organ, so I shall try to describe it to you. In most cases, the stand itself has a ledge on which one puts one's music, and there are four twirly bits of metal that stick up at the front (or lie down flat when not required) to stop the music books from closing, and also to reduce the probability of them sliding off the front of the music stand. The left middle twirly prong on this organ had been snapped off a while ago; as there was still a bit left in place, a new prong could not be inserted. The system we rigged up was very sophisticated - we tied bits of string round, and the music book could be slid underneath it - the string went from top to bottom, and sat on the outside edges of the left and right sides of the music book, so that they did not obscure any music. Genius! (Mis-spelled that on my first attempt...) When I am an organ builder I would very much like to incorporate a similar design feature (possibly optional) into my organs, as it works so much better than the twiddly knobs - it holds the whole height of the music where is it supposed to be, rather than just the bottom, and doesn't obscure any notes or footing marks. I think that those pieces of string will be staying there for a long time!
The rehearsal went quite well. O come, all ye faithful's last verse was rather a large amount of fun, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I think that I ought to point out that I really love playing the organ sometimes - the feeling that I get when I am playing something loud and beautiful well is in my top three situations which make me feel good (one of the others is riding a horse in a field in summer when everything is going well...). I feel that I have complained about the organ and my lack of playing prowess rather too much, which may have led people to wonder why I bother.
The service itself did not start well; I did not play the first note at all, but started on the second note. This confused me, but I got the impression that nobody else noticed. Perhaps they are not very observant. There were a few other mistakes int he first carol, but nothing major.
After that I lose track of where it went wrong. There were at least two other introductions that I messed up (which is embarrassing as they are the easy bit - for the first introduction there was only one line, which was all played with my right hand), but people still didn't seem to notice. The last verse I was the most worried about went a bit wrong, but I picked it up and got to the end in style (very much enjoyed the second half of that last verse), and O come, all ye faithful's last verse had its moments (although not as good as in the rehearsal). All in all, my playing was mostly very good, with a liberal sprinkling of dodgy notes. I am glad that my teacher, Dave the Organist, was not there; he would have had many words to say about the quality of my playing, and they would certainly not all have been good. Now he can have the second-hand report, in which many of the dodgy notes never appeared.
Everyone I spoke to seemed to think that it went very well, so I think that I can conclude that I did not embarrass myself, and that none of the mistakes I made actually mattered. You know, it has just occurred to me that I achieved something**** - I successfully prepared a whole load of pieces in under five weeks (mostly in under three weeks), with pedals in many cases, and played them with lots of people to distract me. One piece had pedals throughout. I did lots of organist things, such as changing stops and opening and closing the swell box. Yay! I think that it will have done me a lot of good.
The parents and Anne came to listen - quite a long journey for a service lasting an hour, but I suppose that they don't get the opportunity to listen to me playing the organ very often. Nana wanted to come too, apparently, but Mother didn't think that she would be up to it - she walked to the village and back yesterday. There is not a problem, but back is uphill. I was impressed that she managed that, but slightly less so when I heard that Mother had gone with her - I had got the impression that she had gone to the village, then spontaneously navigated back to the house. Nonetheless that amount of walking is very good and very promising, depending on what one wants to be promised. I shall have to borrow Dave's organ and play for Nana some time over Christmas. Perhaps after a service so it isn't so deathly cold.
So that was it. Next year I shall be much better. And possibly located in a different area of the country altogether. Now I must put my newly improved skills to use and learn some of that music I bought in Oxford last weekend. It is supposed to be relatively simple, so I have high hopes.
*With the exception of the last chord - I have been confident with the last chord for a long time, and can reliably play it to an acceptable standard with acceptable timing, even when I fail to get any other notes right. It's just a talent that I have.
**Is the fact that I do not learn and modify my behaviour evidence that I am a bit thick, or just further evidence to support the theory that I am bone idle and need a kick up the backside?*** It's times like this which make me glad that I do not like my mattress much - imagine the trouble I would have if my bed were particularly comfortable!
***I realise that I did not cover every possibility here - there is not really enough information to allow you to come up with a working hypothesis. As such, there is no need for you to answer this question. Especially as I am not convinced that I want to know the answer. Ooh - another theory - I need more sleep! Then perhaps I would stop writing utter gibberish.
****I think it just occurred to me because I was so fixated on how it was probably all going to go wrong - I didn't even consider it going right as a possibility.
With this in mind, I was quite relaxed when I went to church this morning, except for the tension caused by my being late because I was tired and did not get out of bed on time. Again.** This morning's service seemed to go well - the vicar was a visiting one and she was lovely. She also sang very loudly, which gave the congregation a boost - it's not an overly enthusiastic congregation, singing-wise. My playing was fairly bad in terms of percentage of correct notes (the voluntary on the way out was so bad I gave up trying and made sure that I at least approximated one note out of every six in the last few bars - this did not make me feel hopeful about my playing in the evening), but the vicar said that it sounded good despite the woeful lack of tuning displayed by the organ (which is getting so much worse - the notes in the middle are out of tune now, too, not just the ones at the top of the keyboard). When I become an organ builder, that organ will see some changes. Except that I won't be in the area. But I digress.
After the service I had a quick practice session, and established that the pedal board on my organ is in bad shape, which did not come as a surprise. I have obviously been practising in great luxury on the chapel organ, which does not have wobbly pedals; I have been quite spoiled. The adversity is good for me, though - teach me to thrive in difficult circumstances. Eventually. I only played for about forty minutes to an hour, which went past surprisingly quickly (that is apparently what panic will do to me), as I needed to get lunch and my wrist was hurting.
I then went to Marks & Spencer and got a tasty risotto for lunch, which Heather and I heated up in her two microwaves (I know - such luxury!). It was very satisfactory, and much cheaper than eating out. Having checked my bank balance, I was in the mood for cheap.
After lunch I went to the chapel for the final rehearsal. I actually arrived 30 minutes early, which was very pleasing; I knew that the time of the rehearsal had a 3 in it, and sincerely hoped that it was 3.30 (it was) , but couldn't swear that it wasn't quarter to three. I arrived at 3, and got to hang around aimlessly for a bit.
We also rigged up a special system to hold the pages of my book open. I have no idea how familiar you are with the anatomy of a music stand on an organ, so I shall try to describe it to you. In most cases, the stand itself has a ledge on which one puts one's music, and there are four twirly bits of metal that stick up at the front (or lie down flat when not required) to stop the music books from closing, and also to reduce the probability of them sliding off the front of the music stand. The left middle twirly prong on this organ had been snapped off a while ago; as there was still a bit left in place, a new prong could not be inserted. The system we rigged up was very sophisticated - we tied bits of string round, and the music book could be slid underneath it - the string went from top to bottom, and sat on the outside edges of the left and right sides of the music book, so that they did not obscure any music. Genius! (Mis-spelled that on my first attempt...) When I am an organ builder I would very much like to incorporate a similar design feature (possibly optional) into my organs, as it works so much better than the twiddly knobs - it holds the whole height of the music where is it supposed to be, rather than just the bottom, and doesn't obscure any notes or footing marks. I think that those pieces of string will be staying there for a long time!
The rehearsal went quite well. O come, all ye faithful's last verse was rather a large amount of fun, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I think that I ought to point out that I really love playing the organ sometimes - the feeling that I get when I am playing something loud and beautiful well is in my top three situations which make me feel good (one of the others is riding a horse in a field in summer when everything is going well...). I feel that I have complained about the organ and my lack of playing prowess rather too much, which may have led people to wonder why I bother.
The service itself did not start well; I did not play the first note at all, but started on the second note. This confused me, but I got the impression that nobody else noticed. Perhaps they are not very observant. There were a few other mistakes int he first carol, but nothing major.
After that I lose track of where it went wrong. There were at least two other introductions that I messed up (which is embarrassing as they are the easy bit - for the first introduction there was only one line, which was all played with my right hand), but people still didn't seem to notice. The last verse I was the most worried about went a bit wrong, but I picked it up and got to the end in style (very much enjoyed the second half of that last verse), and O come, all ye faithful's last verse had its moments (although not as good as in the rehearsal). All in all, my playing was mostly very good, with a liberal sprinkling of dodgy notes. I am glad that my teacher, Dave the Organist, was not there; he would have had many words to say about the quality of my playing, and they would certainly not all have been good. Now he can have the second-hand report, in which many of the dodgy notes never appeared.
Everyone I spoke to seemed to think that it went very well, so I think that I can conclude that I did not embarrass myself, and that none of the mistakes I made actually mattered. You know, it has just occurred to me that I achieved something**** - I successfully prepared a whole load of pieces in under five weeks (mostly in under three weeks), with pedals in many cases, and played them with lots of people to distract me. One piece had pedals throughout. I did lots of organist things, such as changing stops and opening and closing the swell box. Yay! I think that it will have done me a lot of good.
The parents and Anne came to listen - quite a long journey for a service lasting an hour, but I suppose that they don't get the opportunity to listen to me playing the organ very often. Nana wanted to come too, apparently, but Mother didn't think that she would be up to it - she walked to the village and back yesterday. There is not a problem, but back is uphill. I was impressed that she managed that, but slightly less so when I heard that Mother had gone with her - I had got the impression that she had gone to the village, then spontaneously navigated back to the house. Nonetheless that amount of walking is very good and very promising, depending on what one wants to be promised. I shall have to borrow Dave's organ and play for Nana some time over Christmas. Perhaps after a service so it isn't so deathly cold.
So that was it. Next year I shall be much better. And possibly located in a different area of the country altogether. Now I must put my newly improved skills to use and learn some of that music I bought in Oxford last weekend. It is supposed to be relatively simple, so I have high hopes.
*With the exception of the last chord - I have been confident with the last chord for a long time, and can reliably play it to an acceptable standard with acceptable timing, even when I fail to get any other notes right. It's just a talent that I have.
**Is the fact that I do not learn and modify my behaviour evidence that I am a bit thick, or just further evidence to support the theory that I am bone idle and need a kick up the backside?*** It's times like this which make me glad that I do not like my mattress much - imagine the trouble I would have if my bed were particularly comfortable!
***I realise that I did not cover every possibility here - there is not really enough information to allow you to come up with a working hypothesis. As such, there is no need for you to answer this question. Especially as I am not convinced that I want to know the answer. Ooh - another theory - I need more sleep! Then perhaps I would stop writing utter gibberish.
****I think it just occurred to me because I was so fixated on how it was probably all going to go wrong - I didn't even consider it going right as a possibility.
Friday, 17 October 2008
I love it when a plan comes together
So. This letter. Well, it would appear that it has inched its way closer to completion today, after a massive session with my friend Roxy, who is good at That Sort Of Thing. At least, I assume it was a massive session - it went there on Monday and returned today bearing signs of having been mauled. I took the suggestions on board, tidied it up and printed it out.
I was just about to send it off when I stopped to think: it's Friday today. If I put it in the post now, it will be just the same as if I put it in the post on Monday. In the meantime, everyone will let me know what I have missed out, but I won't be able to do anything about it.
With this in mind, I shall take it to Serena to have a last poke at it tomorrow, and it can go off first thing Monday morning, only a week after I promised I would send it. That makes me look reasonably reliable, doesn't it?
I am feeling a lot happier with life in general. Heather assured me that if I took some B vitamins my life would improve, and that does indeed seem to be the case. Does this suggest that there may be some merit in eating a well-balanced diet?
The thing that worried me most about feeling better was the potential for me to lose momentum to escape from this rut in which I have become well and truly stuck. With this letter about to be sent off, I think that I will have enough momentum to cause some change or other to happen.
If my Cunning Plan of Escapefulness does not work out, I know that I must quickly write up my new, shorter research proposal and look for research assistant funding. I have a person with a record for publishing behind me, so my odds aren't zero.
If that falls through, I can try again for Departmental funding for my PhD next time round.
If that falls though, I can throw it all in and go to be a nun in France.* I like France.
Will keep you updated on Plan 1 - The One With The Letter. If it fails, I can certainly let on what I'm not going to do, and if it succeeds I should say nothing at all for fear of having my sacred anonymity well and truly blown (yes, I am going to be a spy. Bugger. I said too much).
*I may not yet have thought through all of the implications of this. I reserve the right to change this plan without prior notice.
I was just about to send it off when I stopped to think: it's Friday today. If I put it in the post now, it will be just the same as if I put it in the post on Monday. In the meantime, everyone will let me know what I have missed out, but I won't be able to do anything about it.
With this in mind, I shall take it to Serena to have a last poke at it tomorrow, and it can go off first thing Monday morning, only a week after I promised I would send it. That makes me look reasonably reliable, doesn't it?
I am feeling a lot happier with life in general. Heather assured me that if I took some B vitamins my life would improve, and that does indeed seem to be the case. Does this suggest that there may be some merit in eating a well-balanced diet?
The thing that worried me most about feeling better was the potential for me to lose momentum to escape from this rut in which I have become well and truly stuck. With this letter about to be sent off, I think that I will have enough momentum to cause some change or other to happen.
If my Cunning Plan of Escapefulness does not work out, I know that I must quickly write up my new, shorter research proposal and look for research assistant funding. I have a person with a record for publishing behind me, so my odds aren't zero.
If that falls through, I can try again for Departmental funding for my PhD next time round.
If that falls though, I can throw it all in and go to be a nun in France.* I like France.
Will keep you updated on Plan 1 - The One With The Letter. If it fails, I can certainly let on what I'm not going to do, and if it succeeds I should say nothing at all for fear of having my sacred anonymity well and truly blown (yes, I am going to be a spy. Bugger. I said too much).
*I may not yet have thought through all of the implications of this. I reserve the right to change this plan without prior notice.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
It is written!
The letter, that is. Heather and I spent the afternoon on it, and I think that it may be ready to send out tomorrow with very little alteration!
That's all I have to say on that subject; it appears that giving one's post a title in haste is not necessarily the way forward. Sorry about that.
I went to visit the parents on Friday. As per usual, they fed me incredibly well. HWSNBN discovered a taste for whisky and ginger he didn't expect to have, and also for falling asleep upright, falling asleep on the sofa and falling asleep fully clothed on the bed. It would appear that he is not the most seasoned of whisky drinkers.
Nana may have turned into a cat; she is currently sleeping for about 20 hours per day (she did not drink any whisky to cause such an effect), only waking up to do what is necessary, including eating. She is not eating a massive amount, but sleeping in a warm room isn't exactly demanding of energy, and she does have a little in the way of fat reserves (although not on her legs. They are impressive. Sparrows would be jealous of their slenderness). Hopefully the sleeping is a sign of recovery rather than winding down. If it is a sign of winding down and she is feeling OK, well, there are worse ways to go.
Grandad's doctor of last weekend was probably wrong with his gloomy prognosis (i.e. only a couple of weeks left; cancer spread to the brain). They are now talking about maybe putting him on dialysis within about a year. He isn't a happy little teddy bear, though. I think that he may be thinking in terms of perhaps seeing some of his grandchildren for the last time (either that, or he is jealous of them, with their leaving of the hospital, and all that). I think he is being overly gloomy, and am unhappy having genetics likely to cause* that sort of thinking within me. See - it's all about me, me, me. Sorry - I digress. That was supposed to indicate that I am not blaming him for being depressed, but I don't think it came out that way. Ouch. Clumsy sentence. Clumsy paragraph.
Anyway, people often complain about mommyblogging; I appear to have started grandchildblogging. I think that, without great insight and wit, this may be much less interesting than mommyblogging (in which a reasonable amount of insight and wit tends to be required). Perhaps I should change my medium and talk about other things.
Yes, that is what I shall do. The grandparents can be considered to be in a fairly similar or better situation until I inform you otherwise. Now I know that you will all be on the edges of your seats, having been gripped by this saga. I am sorry if you are disappointed. I shall just have to write about other interesting things instead.
Now I have to do other interesting things. Like learn how to write.
*Facilitate? Increase the likelihood?
That's all I have to say on that subject; it appears that giving one's post a title in haste is not necessarily the way forward. Sorry about that.
I went to visit the parents on Friday. As per usual, they fed me incredibly well. HWSNBN discovered a taste for whisky and ginger he didn't expect to have, and also for falling asleep upright, falling asleep on the sofa and falling asleep fully clothed on the bed. It would appear that he is not the most seasoned of whisky drinkers.
Nana may have turned into a cat; she is currently sleeping for about 20 hours per day (she did not drink any whisky to cause such an effect), only waking up to do what is necessary, including eating. She is not eating a massive amount, but sleeping in a warm room isn't exactly demanding of energy, and she does have a little in the way of fat reserves (although not on her legs. They are impressive. Sparrows would be jealous of their slenderness). Hopefully the sleeping is a sign of recovery rather than winding down. If it is a sign of winding down and she is feeling OK, well, there are worse ways to go.
Grandad's doctor of last weekend was probably wrong with his gloomy prognosis (i.e. only a couple of weeks left; cancer spread to the brain). They are now talking about maybe putting him on dialysis within about a year. He isn't a happy little teddy bear, though. I think that he may be thinking in terms of perhaps seeing some of his grandchildren for the last time (either that, or he is jealous of them, with their leaving of the hospital, and all that). I think he is being overly gloomy, and am unhappy having genetics likely to cause* that sort of thinking within me. See - it's all about me, me, me. Sorry - I digress. That was supposed to indicate that I am not blaming him for being depressed, but I don't think it came out that way. Ouch. Clumsy sentence. Clumsy paragraph.
Anyway, people often complain about mommyblogging; I appear to have started grandchildblogging. I think that, without great insight and wit, this may be much less interesting than mommyblogging (in which a reasonable amount of insight and wit tends to be required). Perhaps I should change my medium and talk about other things.
Yes, that is what I shall do. The grandparents can be considered to be in a fairly similar or better situation until I inform you otherwise. Now I know that you will all be on the edges of your seats, having been gripped by this saga. I am sorry if you are disappointed. I shall just have to write about other interesting things instead.
Now I have to do other interesting things. Like learn how to write.
*Facilitate? Increase the likelihood?
Sunday, 5 October 2008
Life just got more interesting...
I had a lovely evening yesterday. It was Serena's birthday outing, and so we went out.
I also had a lovely day. HWSNBN was a bit cold, so he put the central heating on.* He then oiled the bathroom window so that it would shut. He also brought me a cup of tea in bed. I stayed in bed for a while and finished off a book I was reading. I'm not really sure what I was supposed to have got out of it - either something about how you shouldn't wait around for happiness/redemption, but should go out and grasp life, or that even when life is crap and it's partly your fault you can still act with grace and die alone. And the nuns will think you're great.
I then had a shower and luxuriated in the warmth downstairs for a few hours, before finally starting to make the rest of Serena's birthday presents. Unfortunately, I was a little too relaxed, and managed to leave the house about 10 minutes after I was due to arrive at Serena's house, which meant that I was 45 minutes late. Nonetheless, we made it to the Chinese restaurant in plenty of time (they had a table which wouldn't be available for long, which suited us perfectly).
After dinner, we popped into a bar for a quick drink, then went to the theatre to see Jeremy Hardy. He was very good, and seemed nice and moderate. Very Radio 4. He also catered for us younger members of the audience with a quick game of peek-a-boo. I admit that I was indeed a bit frightened at first, but that I did find it more funny when I realised he hadn't actually disappeared.
Afterwards we returned to Serena's house for a cup of tea, and I stayed there overnight. Her sleeping bag is my new best friend - I have never encountered such a fluffy, friendly sleeping bag before.
Today, after church, Heather and I went out for a drive, some lunch and a quick walk. The weather was great - sunny and warm (in contrast to church - it was incredibly cold. The nuns are on holiday and nobody could get into the office to turn the heating on. Brrrr). Lunch was tasty - dessert was meringue with brandy cherries and cream. Unfortunately, I drank far, far too much tea and rather embarrassed myself with my tiny bladder capacity. I think that it may have been somewhat similar to taking a 2-year-old in the middle of potty training for a walk. I may not be invited again.
Afterwards, I returned home to be met with the news that Grandad's cancer (?!?) is getting worse and that he has about two weeks to live. I was supposed to hear this news from my mother, but she left home about an hour before I called to take my baby sister Anne to the hospital because she has a really bad headache. I am hoping that it is a "The doctor is not open so we will go to the hospital" rather than an "Oh shit" visit; I daresay I shall find out when they return and Mummy calls me.
I did get to speak to Robert, my brother, though. He is hungover, having been to Liverpool yesterday night. Apparently he enjoyed himself. He says that Nana, who has been rather ill with what seems to be the cough which stopped me from breathing properly, is asleep on their settee, has been eating, and is giving the appearance of being compos mentis, which is excellent news. Nana is much more friendly and amenable than Grandad, which means that if the natural laws are obeyed she should live much less long than Grandad. When I was told to call Mother, I thought that it would be bad news about her.
I am feeling slightly like a bad person - I know that I should have been a better granddaughter to Grandad. I also know that he should have been a better Grandad (see how I deflect the blame from myself ever so neatly?). Alas, I am not a boy, I went to a crap university (twice) and I got a 2:2, so I'm not worth remembering really. I shall not justify myself here - it always comes out so defensive (funnily enough).
I am quite frightened of having to visit him. I am afraid of people vomiting, and am worried that he will do so. Or somebody else on his ward might do so. That would be frightening. I need to grow up, really. Being frightened of spiders or needles would be so much more socially acceptable. It wouldn't have helped much with my multiple spider attack in the shower yesterday, though. Massive great hairy things! I thought it was the same one back again the second time, but HWSNBN assures me that there were two. When I thought about it, the second one was slightly smaller and may have had hairier legs. Naturally, as they were so big, they were easy to handle. I shall say no more.
I am worried about Anne, too. I don't like my baby sister going to the hospital (not that it has happened before - it's usually me with a broken bit of anatomy), and hospital-worthy headaches make me uneasy. It's probably just a migraine - she's at about the right age. That means that she will probably just be condemned to multiple episodes of excruciating pain for a few years, and banned from taking the pill forever. Well, there are worse things. There are better things, too.
As I appear to have mentioned everyone else I ever met, I should also say that Louise has been dropped off at university. She is in what promises to be an excellent room this year. I must visit some time...
So there we go. An only slightly ranty account of what I have been up to. There was more, but I think that this is enough. The more was less important, and possibly also less interesting, although I was interested.
UPDATE: Anne has returned from the hospital - apparently it was a migraine. She is now feeling better. Also, it is reputed that 60% of men get prostate cancer, and they reckon that Grandad is one of them...
*This is a bad sign in terms of habitability - he doesn't usually get cold. When he decides to put the heating on, I know that I was better off in bed than out of it. Did that make sense?
I also had a lovely day. HWSNBN was a bit cold, so he put the central heating on.* He then oiled the bathroom window so that it would shut. He also brought me a cup of tea in bed. I stayed in bed for a while and finished off a book I was reading. I'm not really sure what I was supposed to have got out of it - either something about how you shouldn't wait around for happiness/redemption, but should go out and grasp life, or that even when life is crap and it's partly your fault you can still act with grace and die alone. And the nuns will think you're great.
I then had a shower and luxuriated in the warmth downstairs for a few hours, before finally starting to make the rest of Serena's birthday presents. Unfortunately, I was a little too relaxed, and managed to leave the house about 10 minutes after I was due to arrive at Serena's house, which meant that I was 45 minutes late. Nonetheless, we made it to the Chinese restaurant in plenty of time (they had a table which wouldn't be available for long, which suited us perfectly).
After dinner, we popped into a bar for a quick drink, then went to the theatre to see Jeremy Hardy. He was very good, and seemed nice and moderate. Very Radio 4. He also catered for us younger members of the audience with a quick game of peek-a-boo. I admit that I was indeed a bit frightened at first, but that I did find it more funny when I realised he hadn't actually disappeared.
Afterwards we returned to Serena's house for a cup of tea, and I stayed there overnight. Her sleeping bag is my new best friend - I have never encountered such a fluffy, friendly sleeping bag before.
Today, after church, Heather and I went out for a drive, some lunch and a quick walk. The weather was great - sunny and warm (in contrast to church - it was incredibly cold. The nuns are on holiday and nobody could get into the office to turn the heating on. Brrrr). Lunch was tasty - dessert was meringue with brandy cherries and cream. Unfortunately, I drank far, far too much tea and rather embarrassed myself with my tiny bladder capacity. I think that it may have been somewhat similar to taking a 2-year-old in the middle of potty training for a walk. I may not be invited again.
Afterwards, I returned home to be met with the news that Grandad's cancer (?!?) is getting worse and that he has about two weeks to live. I was supposed to hear this news from my mother, but she left home about an hour before I called to take my baby sister Anne to the hospital because she has a really bad headache. I am hoping that it is a "The doctor is not open so we will go to the hospital" rather than an "Oh shit" visit; I daresay I shall find out when they return and Mummy calls me.
I did get to speak to Robert, my brother, though. He is hungover, having been to Liverpool yesterday night. Apparently he enjoyed himself. He says that Nana, who has been rather ill with what seems to be the cough which stopped me from breathing properly, is asleep on their settee, has been eating, and is giving the appearance of being compos mentis, which is excellent news. Nana is much more friendly and amenable than Grandad, which means that if the natural laws are obeyed she should live much less long than Grandad. When I was told to call Mother, I thought that it would be bad news about her.
I am feeling slightly like a bad person - I know that I should have been a better granddaughter to Grandad. I also know that he should have been a better Grandad (see how I deflect the blame from myself ever so neatly?). Alas, I am not a boy, I went to a crap university (twice) and I got a 2:2, so I'm not worth remembering really. I shall not justify myself here - it always comes out so defensive (funnily enough).
I am quite frightened of having to visit him. I am afraid of people vomiting, and am worried that he will do so. Or somebody else on his ward might do so. That would be frightening. I need to grow up, really. Being frightened of spiders or needles would be so much more socially acceptable. It wouldn't have helped much with my multiple spider attack in the shower yesterday, though. Massive great hairy things! I thought it was the same one back again the second time, but HWSNBN assures me that there were two. When I thought about it, the second one was slightly smaller and may have had hairier legs. Naturally, as they were so big, they were easy to handle. I shall say no more.
I am worried about Anne, too. I don't like my baby sister going to the hospital (not that it has happened before - it's usually me with a broken bit of anatomy), and hospital-worthy headaches make me uneasy. It's probably just a migraine - she's at about the right age. That means that she will probably just be condemned to multiple episodes of excruciating pain for a few years, and banned from taking the pill forever. Well, there are worse things. There are better things, too.
As I appear to have mentioned everyone else I ever met, I should also say that Louise has been dropped off at university. She is in what promises to be an excellent room this year. I must visit some time...
So there we go. An only slightly ranty account of what I have been up to. There was more, but I think that this is enough. The more was less important, and possibly also less interesting, although I was interested.
UPDATE: Anne has returned from the hospital - apparently it was a migraine. She is now feeling better. Also, it is reputed that 60% of men get prostate cancer, and they reckon that Grandad is one of them...
*This is a bad sign in terms of habitability - he doesn't usually get cold. When he decides to put the heating on, I know that I was better off in bed than out of it. Did that make sense?
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Stuck
I'm cooking dinner for HWSNBN and his mother this evening. Unfortunately, due to an excess of crapness on my part, the roast pork will not be ready until 8pm at the earliest. HWSNBN's mum does not like to eat after about 6.30. Once again, I have messed up and I feel bad.
I also managed to be too late for the vegetable shop - I thought it closed at 6, but it turns out it closes at 5 on a Sunday. As a result, I can only offer one carrot and half a swede in the orange vegetables section. I have no apples to make sauce. I have frozen peas, and purple beans from the vegetable patch, and purple potatoes (peeled - you can't really tell they were purple now), so I can fake a roast dinner - it's just that the timing is so very wrong.
I've just opened the oven and the pork looks amazing. It's just had its 30 minutes at 230C, and I had to let the heat out to take it to 160C, where it will stay for 90 minutes. It's quite a large bit of pork. I bought it because it was on offer, and put it straight into the freezer. Alas, I roasted a joint which had been in there for a few months recently, and it was not good. I don't know what happened to it (maybe the freezer turned itself off...), but it led me to the conclusion that I must defrost and roast all of the meat over a certain age in there (that age is anything I put in before yesterday). So now I am working on that. I do hope food poisoning is not the result. None of this meat will be served at all rare!
The reason I waited until so late to start cooking is that I am not having a happy day. Church did not go well - I am too easily irritated at the moment. Just as I was about to start playing this morning, the guitar started.* In a way, this is great - it means that I do less work but still get the same amount of money. I find that hard to argue with! However, I would have appreciated the chance to run through the hymns beforehand. It would also have been good to have been forewarned that the organ sounds like it is dying before the introduction to the first hymn. Poor darling - it is not at all a well little organ, and it needs tuning again.
The next badness came during the second hymn. The person who was singing most loudly was not singing the same rhythm as I was trying to play. I suspect that she was right,** but that didn't really help me. As I was distracted, I played lots of wrong notes. I am such a crap organist.
To make matters worse, she who plays the guitar is really good. I would feel a lot better about this if I wasn't being shown to be the lesser musician. I would not be shown to be the lesser musician if I did enough practice - if I worked at this, I would be good. Therefore it is all my fault in the end. Grr.
Finally, I got lots of notes wrong in the voluntary. I think that I had given up by then.
After church I went shopping and bought, among other things, some wine making kit. We are hoping to make elderberry and blackberry wine from those we find growing around the edge of The Field. I am looking forward to that.
As I was returning to the car, Heather called me. She sort of invited me round to hers for a cup of tea.*** When I arrived, she fed me and gave me wine instead. We both moaned about our respective lack of movement - her with a project she cannot move forward with until next year, me with projects which have not worked out - now I have to come up with new plans. After feeding me, she gave me tea and I felt better. Not completely better, but I think I shall have to make a lot of changes before I feel completely better.
She also helped me a little with a letter I am writing at the moment. Should this letter achieve its desired aim, my life will be thrown into utter turmoil for a bit. Should this happen, I shall record the results in this blog. It will be very exciting, but is rather daunting.
Sorry about skirting round this. There are some things one shouldn't share with the Internet, but the unbloggable crapness which is consuming my being at the moment says that it deserves a passing mention.
Update: Dinner tasted fine - I am reasonably confident nobody has been poisoned...
*OK, so it wasn't that the guitar started; it was that somebody started playing it. Somebody was supposed to be playing it. I feel incredibly petty.
**Well, officially I suspect that she was right. Between you and me, I was not convinced, even though, deep down, I trust her knowledge of the song more than mine. Deep breaths....... And, relax.
***She suggested we should meet in town for a coffee - I invited myself round to hers.
I also managed to be too late for the vegetable shop - I thought it closed at 6, but it turns out it closes at 5 on a Sunday. As a result, I can only offer one carrot and half a swede in the orange vegetables section. I have no apples to make sauce. I have frozen peas, and purple beans from the vegetable patch, and purple potatoes (peeled - you can't really tell they were purple now), so I can fake a roast dinner - it's just that the timing is so very wrong.
I've just opened the oven and the pork looks amazing. It's just had its 30 minutes at 230C, and I had to let the heat out to take it to 160C, where it will stay for 90 minutes. It's quite a large bit of pork. I bought it because it was on offer, and put it straight into the freezer. Alas, I roasted a joint which had been in there for a few months recently, and it was not good. I don't know what happened to it (maybe the freezer turned itself off...), but it led me to the conclusion that I must defrost and roast all of the meat over a certain age in there (that age is anything I put in before yesterday). So now I am working on that. I do hope food poisoning is not the result. None of this meat will be served at all rare!
The reason I waited until so late to start cooking is that I am not having a happy day. Church did not go well - I am too easily irritated at the moment. Just as I was about to start playing this morning, the guitar started.* In a way, this is great - it means that I do less work but still get the same amount of money. I find that hard to argue with! However, I would have appreciated the chance to run through the hymns beforehand. It would also have been good to have been forewarned that the organ sounds like it is dying before the introduction to the first hymn. Poor darling - it is not at all a well little organ, and it needs tuning again.
The next badness came during the second hymn. The person who was singing most loudly was not singing the same rhythm as I was trying to play. I suspect that she was right,** but that didn't really help me. As I was distracted, I played lots of wrong notes. I am such a crap organist.
To make matters worse, she who plays the guitar is really good. I would feel a lot better about this if I wasn't being shown to be the lesser musician. I would not be shown to be the lesser musician if I did enough practice - if I worked at this, I would be good. Therefore it is all my fault in the end. Grr.
Finally, I got lots of notes wrong in the voluntary. I think that I had given up by then.
After church I went shopping and bought, among other things, some wine making kit. We are hoping to make elderberry and blackberry wine from those we find growing around the edge of The Field. I am looking forward to that.
As I was returning to the car, Heather called me. She sort of invited me round to hers for a cup of tea.*** When I arrived, she fed me and gave me wine instead. We both moaned about our respective lack of movement - her with a project she cannot move forward with until next year, me with projects which have not worked out - now I have to come up with new plans. After feeding me, she gave me tea and I felt better. Not completely better, but I think I shall have to make a lot of changes before I feel completely better.
She also helped me a little with a letter I am writing at the moment. Should this letter achieve its desired aim, my life will be thrown into utter turmoil for a bit. Should this happen, I shall record the results in this blog. It will be very exciting, but is rather daunting.
Sorry about skirting round this. There are some things one shouldn't share with the Internet, but the unbloggable crapness which is consuming my being at the moment says that it deserves a passing mention.
Update: Dinner tasted fine - I am reasonably confident nobody has been poisoned...
*OK, so it wasn't that the guitar started; it was that somebody started playing it. Somebody was supposed to be playing it. I feel incredibly petty.
**Well, officially I suspect that she was right. Between you and me, I was not convinced, even though, deep down, I trust her knowledge of the song more than mine. Deep breaths....... And, relax.
***She suggested we should meet in town for a coffee - I invited myself round to hers.
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Home Again
I wrote a big post about the church weekend, but it turned into rather a large moan-fest. Given that I enjoyed myself a lot (albeit mostly when the children were asleep or I had run away from them), and felt that the weekend was a very positive experience, this feels rather ungrateful. I therefore deleted that post. Nobody likes a complainer.*
I shall instead touch on a few selected highlights.
*Which may be why I have no friends.
**Actually, they probably already know each other rather well. I got to know them better, though, and they got to know me better. I therefore conclude that my original sentence is fit for purpose. And undermine this declaration by the over-generous use of asterisks.****
***This is an observation, not a complaint.
****Should I be using fewer asterisks? They are rather annoying, especially when there are four****** of them, and I appear to be using them as a poor substitute for both humour and proper, clear sentence structure. However, having surveyed all of this blog's readers,***** I have decided to worry about this later. Or maybe not at all. Sorry, as yet unanticipated reader; I do hope you didn't come to this blog with high expectations.
*****Me.
******On re-reading this, I realised that there were five asterisks. There are, of course, now six of them.
I shall instead touch on a few selected highlights.
- As I mentioned earlier, I was unable to leave work on time to catch the coach, and had to drive myself there. I was delayed further by a phone call asking me to pick up a few things from the shop, and further still by my own ineptitude with the borrowed TomTom. This meant I arrived a long time after dinner was finished. I ate my dinner in the company of a couple of other grown-ups while the children pouted and threw their way round a gentle stroll in the woods.
- Lots of people brought wine. We had a very enjoyable evening getting to know each other better** while drinking wine and eating biscuits and chocolate brazils. I didn't even have much of a hangover the next morning.
- I had to share a room with a friend of mine, Heather, and at no point did I have to sleep in it with a child present. One child tried to spend the night there, but her teddy bear got scared way before our bedtime and she took him to sleep elsewhere (she's nothing if not compassionate). I swear I had nothing to do with this.
- Heather brought Benedictine. Benedictine is made by monks and is thus holy. It has amazing happy-giving properties, and nobody else seems to like it except my parents and The Guy Who's Not Russian, who will drink anything. This means that I do not have to share it.
- Heather and I escaped for a walk up a hill. From there we had a beautiful view of the countryside. I sat among some logs looking at the pretty weed-flowers. During that time period, only one member of our group was taken to hospital.
- That evening we had a barbecue. I managed to get three barbecues ready for cooking meat shortly after we finished eating it, having given up a long time ago and put the sausages and burgers under the grill. The important point here is that I was not defeated by the recalcitrant barbecues. Pyromania rules OK.
- After the children had gone to bed, we were treated to lots of Martini and lemonade. I was inspired, and re-wrote a research proposal (in note form) so that it became a lot smaller and more manageable than the original proposal. Having done this, I may be able to use it to apply for a research grant. I have not yet read it sober; it could be a pile of crap...
- At lunchtime the next day, there was not enough room for me at the table. Nobody was paying any attention to me,*** and I managed to slip away unnoticed and eat on a picnic bench outside. The weather was lovely, and I finished my lunch before being disturbed by any children waving pointy sticks.
- I got a lovely hug from a lovely little girl after the service in the afternoon. I am reasonably sure I didn't get head lice from the encounter. She asked if I had written the songs we sang. I assured her that I have no talent in that area. It's quite funny to see little children's faith in the power of adults! And oh so very lovely.
- At the end of our stay, when I got into my car to leave (not on the coach with everyone else - yay!), I put the air conditioning on. That was nice.
- When I got home, as time seemed to have passed so slowly (it's amazing how long the days are when you get up in the morning), it felt much later than it was. I therefore had lots more evening left than felt reasonable, but in a good way. I prepared myself a simple meal and extracted some cider from the fridge. Which I then drank.
*Which may be why I have no friends.
**Actually, they probably already know each other rather well. I got to know them better, though, and they got to know me better. I therefore conclude that my original sentence is fit for purpose. And undermine this declaration by the over-generous use of asterisks.****
***This is an observation, not a complaint.
****Should I be using fewer asterisks? They are rather annoying, especially when there are four****** of them, and I appear to be using them as a poor substitute for both humour and proper, clear sentence structure. However, having surveyed all of this blog's readers,***** I have decided to worry about this later. Or maybe not at all. Sorry, as yet unanticipated reader; I do hope you didn't come to this blog with high expectations.
*****Me.
******On re-reading this, I realised that there were five asterisks. There are, of course, now six of them.
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