The Age of Reason

Tennis ball decorations! Not soggy

 As I am retired do I need a reason for watching Pride and Prejudice once again? Of course not. The 1995 BBC adaptation of Jane Austen's masterpiece has been my go-to as a cure for almost everything. The six-hour series is brilliant and as I have watched it so manty times already, I can almost quote every word. This time, there really was no good reason apart from it being the 250th anniversary of Austen's birth. Over the week, her works were torn apart and re-inspected from a 21st century point of view on both TV and radio and she still shines. Personally, I fell in love with the language. It is so quotable. If only nowadays we could argue in the same frame as Lady Catherine De Bourgh and Lizzie Bennett... I take no leave of you, slap, Nor do I wish you any compliments, slap... if only we could get away with these masterful put downs...How different our world would be. I am preparing to watch all her books adapted on BBC - my short cut to getting through them all and have time for a little tennis and other reading. What joy.

At my age I should be proud that I got yet another medal to mark the passing of another swimming challenge. My youngest grandchild wore it around the house with pride and now the medal has disappeared. I have a drawer in my house full of trophies and medals so I shouldn't mourn the loss of one more. The trouble with these little little gongs from my sporting past is I can't throw them away and I can't give them away. It was funny that at seventeen months of age she knew how to wear it. There are a few more left she can play with!!!

I got the t-shirt

Something I am a little less proud of her for is her unravelling a large ball of wool that I am crocheting a jumper with. I wanted this jumper finished in time for Christmas but it won't be. On Saturday, Mattaya picked up the ball and pulled it apart. Then she trailed it across the room, tripped over it, dragged it in the kitchen. It was not a dangerous pursuit, and heaven knows my house is not child-proof, so I left her to it. Even Shadow got entangled. I spent five hours after she left until well after midnight trying to untangle the tangles. It is still a mess and now I have resolved to cut it just so I can get on and finish the front and back. 

Tangled wool. Argh

I would like to think that I have finished all my Christmas shopping. I went to the supermarket and bought enough food to last until the end of January. Crazy!!! Getting it home is good for weight training!! I can't think of any other way to reframe the efforts I put into spending far too long getting around an overcrowded shop and feeling frustrated. I don't like shopping at the best of times and these were not the best of times. At least I am "almost" ready for Christmas and as Sunday is the shortest day, I also look forward to the world waking up to Spring in the not too distant future.... and I will have no need to do food shopping until February, hopefully.

The tennis club celebrates Christmas in style, a morning of tennis with soggy balls, mulled wine and lots of festive cheer. The weather is bound to improve as the days get longer and before too long it will be warm enough to wear a skirt again! 

Until that time in 2026, let's celebrate, be merry, and indulge. 

Reflections

 

The idea for my writing came to me while walking along the towpath at sunrise. The air was still. As I walked towards Wolverton, the mist slowly lifted to reveal the low sun ahead. It was almost perfect. I almost felt at one with the world.  The only spoiler was the constant growl of vehicles on the nearby dual carriageway. Ironically, this road had been in existence for a long time before the canal was dug. The road - The Watling Street - was first built by the Romans and runs from Dover in the South-east to Anglesey to the north of Wales. It cut through hills and was relatively straight way back then - quite a feat of engineering, as was the canal in the 1700s.

I expect the clatter of chariots was every bit as loud as the cars of now. As a child, my father often told me that this road had been built by The Romans and in my young stupidity, I thought the road surface had lasted remarkably well. Even since my childhood, the road has evolved. It has taken new routes, has been widened in places, has traffic lights and roundabouts - these weren't around in Roman times. This only goes to show that things are in constant flux and we don't really notice how much change has happened - even in my life time. 

I have also been thinking how lucky I am as the holder of a British passport. Most places in the world are happy to let holders of this passport in, even if we have to pay a little for a visa. Even if Trump decides that he is going to rummage through my social media before granting me the chance to travel to the USA, I am sure that being British will still hold sway so I could still visit without issues. However, I am not sure that I actually would like to pop across the pond these days. The glitz and glamour of America has faded. There is so much more to delight on my doorstep. 

We all look at the past through rose-tinted specs. Christmas was always bigger, better, cheerier... So do we try to recreate the past or do we re-invent it like we do with our transport systems. Are all the extra goodies in the shops there to recreate previous Christmases or are we persuaded to go one step further and buy even more things and adapt to new Christmas norms? I just think that these days I want to create memories and habits for my grand daughters  - not just commercial ones. Danielle is working hard on that too. She made an angel for the Lantern Festival and even though we didn't get to walk the route with it, it is a beautiful addition to the season! It even spent a short while at my place. Just maybe it will come back and visit me next year. 

Knee Jerk Reactions

 We are speeding towards Christmas and I have started buying in extra food as if I were preparing for a siege. I wouldn't want to be caught on the hop should anyone pop round to visit me. That would be terrible. In addition to all the extras I have bought, I am also writing lists for the BIG shop that will provide for Christmas dinner. This is an inbuilt reaction to the festive season and it comes upon me every year in early December. For me it has nothing to do with the adverts that encourage prolific spending. I don't even think it is a knee jerk reaction to seeing lots of red stuff in shops. I think it goes back to my pagan roots. After all, the Romans had the Saturnalia celebration at this time while the Vikings did their Yule celebrations. I cannot deny that I look forward to Christmas. It is especially special because there is still a big kid inside me. 

Beyond those all important lists and the party season, life goes on. I have got particularly annoyed with politicians having a negative knee jerk reaction to anything another party proposes. David Lammy wants to reform the courts. Not sure I totally agree with what he is trying to do but I do feel the sound bites that come out in response aren't considered and they certainly aren't helpful. Nor are the knee jerk reactions to the budget. It wouldn't have mattered what the budget consisted of, no one would say they liked any of it whatever. If a politician truly wanted to make the country a better place, surely they would think of providing other ideas to solve the problem rather than gunning down something said by an opposition party. Tis the season for reconciliation and giving. This should apply to democracy. 

While I'm on my soap box, I suggest we provide a benchmark for good behaviour between countries. Russia was initially banned from participating in international sports events because of its unwarranted aggression to Ukraine and Europe. This stance has since softened for Russia and now Israel has been granted a place in the Eurovision Song Contest. We flip flop and make the rules up as we go along. It does make me angry. Nobody in any position of power wants to proverbially call out bad behaviour and slap wrists. If there was anyone, Trump would be in the firing line! This is particularly so since he has received the first FIFA Peace Prize - Ultimate Arse-licking!

My book is being reprinted. This time the red stars that divide sections will be  printed black to keep the price down. My original thoughts were to put three red stars to represent the new Syrian flag. Maybe one day the first edition with the red stars will be a collectors item - I'm joking! 

I am actually feeling a little sorry for myself at the moment. I have a bone growth in my left wrist on the radius just like the bone growth on my right heel last year. Apparently bones developing lumps happens as a result of previous injuries. This one is about the size of a chickpea and it now hurts when I cycle. err. With all my previous bumps and hurts, I could have little lumps on lots of bits of my body. It doesn't bear thinking about. This is the stuff of nightmares!

Reaching Out

At the vigil

 My competitive, masculine, sporty side really likes statistics. They stick in my mind, motivate me and provide a barometer of sorts. So it was when I attended the Orange and White Ribbon Vigil last Tuesday at The Rose in Milton Keynes. The engaging speeches made me realise how close we all are to less than acceptable behaviour in what I consider to be a civilised country. The event celebrated and raised awareness of how we can prevent men's violence towards women before it happens. The message is represented by the White Ribbon. The Orange Ribbon represents a brighter future for all people. Leading up to the event, Ruth, from The Orchard designed The Tree of Life. She made an intricate framework decorated with crocheted animals, leaves and flowers that could fit over a pillar at The Rose. Hours of effort went into this piece and I feel rightly proud that it represented Wolverton Community Orchard. Super work, Ruth!

We gathered outside John Lewis in the city centre where a photo exhibition of the city's craftivism made by volunteer groups across Milton Keynes was exhibiting, and walked en masse to The Rose. It was rather nippy and obviously very dark even for late afternoon. Despite this, there was lots of support for the cause. It has left me wondering how we at the orchard can be ambassadors for the cause, advertising that it is a space were we call out bad behaviour. Events like this make me realise what a good place MK is. 

Leicester Square

Carnaby Street

Oxford Street

And so to London. I popped up to town to take in a show with Diane and Jeremy. We walked from St Pancras; taking in the Christmas lights along the way. Oxford Street disappointed - I expected nothing less. Every year they miss the mark. However, there is something magical about London that you can't find in any other city. Telling you that London has two thousand years of history, architecture from the Middle Ages rubbing up against the  post-war Brutalist blend amiably with colonial edifices doesn't really do it justice. In the little squares there are public gardens which are quite unexpected in such a large metropolis. I love London but I wouldn't want to live there. It is far too busy.

Our plan was to eat at a Syrian restaurant in Kingly Court in Carnaby Street - as if I never have Syrian delights! The restaurant - Imad's had wonderful food and my only disappointment was no knafeh! Kingly Court, an up-market hawker, was amazing. You could eat the whole world in this small part of London and the whole world was there to enjoy the experience too. Truly Global and totally amazing. 

Even more amazing is that my book has been read on four continents and it has only been published two months. Almost daily I check where it is in Amazon Kindle rankings. It has been as high as number 2 in Middle East literature and at the time of writing it is still fairly high. I know that there are over 1.7 million books on the site because it started off at the bottom of the rankings. More than the rankings, I really love it when people want to discuss the book with me. I am not after a pat on the back, more that the contents - Naser's story - is something they connect with and want to talk about. 

So with people from all over the world rubbing shoulders in London, and my book being read in places across the world, I see a brighter future - perhaps one represented by an orange ribbon. 

Insurance

 Advertising tells us that insurance buys peace of mind. We pay a company a premium that covers accidents and disasters should they befall us. I pay premiums for my house, my car and my holidays in the hope that I will not have to claim anything. However, My car insurance company, Hastings Direct, has given me nothing but headaches - is this the price for paying for the cheapest on offer? 

When I signed up with them, I had to fit a gadget in my car that records my driving. This made my premium cheaper. I was pretty proud of my high score and let out an occasional boast to friends. In terms of essay writing, I was consistently getting a B+ and this hasn't altered over the time I have been driving. I noticed on the feedback that it recorded I used my phone while driving - this was not not me. It was my passenger. errr. Nonetheless, I wear my score as a badge of pride. 

Here comes the rub. Hastings customer services are less than acceptable. I first had problems when my car became a sitting duck in  the Wolverton Tesco carpark. It was a low speed collision but the car stayed in the repair shop for seven weeks. The other driver's insurance covered the repairs and my car hire. The trouble was, I wasn't driving so I wasn't recording my driving. Hastings threatened to cancel my policy. I explained the issue. No problem. They seemed happy so I carried on until I got another threat. This time the assistant on the end of the line promised to put this on my record. Yay!

I got my car back and thought no more of it. Then... I got SMSs and emails requesting proof of my "no claims discount". In the old days, I'd whip out a sheet of paper from my file. Not any more. I needed to get hold of my previous insurer, Marshmallow and they don't deal with human contact. I finally realised that I had to get the app and key in my old policy number to access my records. Meanwhile, I had repeated threats from Hastings. Just before the deadline, I managed to send proof to Hastings. Not good enough. They sent an email saying they were putting my premiums up by £350. I rang them up again. Apparently, I sent the evidence in reply email which is not acceptable. After a bit of argy bargy all was sorted. What a palava? And, certainly no peace of mind. 

To top it all I got a parking ticket. Driving has hidden costs and lots of stresses. I am sure AI has a lot to answer for with auto generated emails and not enough smart people checking the systems.  The promised simplicity of a future with AI is a long way off. I am convinced old-fashioned cycling is the way ahead. As long as I use my sound alarm and heavy duty lock to ensure I deter old-fashioned thieves, I should be OK. I just need to be wary of idiots who moor their boats to park benches! That is another story. 

As a final insurance, I set off to help clean up the graveyard at my local church last Saturday. You never know when you might need a place as a future residence. Despite the inclement conditions, there was a keen group - even keener to sup tea and coffee in the church to dry out.

Flashbacks

 I didn't imagine I could feel as tense as I did when I saw a big van reversing towards the car I was a passenger in. I was a sitting duck in the Tesco carpark in Wolverton when a car reversed into my car last August and once again I was in another Tesco carpark  - this time in Manchester. The overwhelming feeling is of having no control. You see something moving towards you and there is literally nowhere to go. Panic over. This time there was not one scratch from the encounter. The only scars remain in my mind and they run deeper than I imagined. I had flashbacks. 

Storm Claudia ravaged Britain this week and I had the unfortunate experience of driving down the M1 in the dark in the rain. The large lorries send out a grubby mist that reduces vision to almost nothing and there is no way you can avoid this once you are on the motorway. It is quite scary at times. I popped up to visit Anita in her beautiful new home. It overlooks the hills in Sheffield and despite the awful weather I appreciated the view through a heavy downpour. It wasn't really a good time to get out and about so we only managed a trip to the pub and a game of chess or two. Fun nevertheless.

Medicinal tipples

Recalling my travels makes it feel like my week was packed. Most of it was spent at home where I felt sorry for myself. My first winter cold hit home on Monday good and proper. My week went by in a haze. I my heavy winter cold developed rapidly which knocked me sideways. For most of the time, all I wanted to do was lie on my sofa. I just couldn't get going. On the upside, my long running intermittent earache disappeared overnight just as the cold evolved. I haven't functioned well all week. I went to make a broccoli pasta for my grand daughters - I got spinach out of the freezer so it wasn't what it was meant to be. Silly me. Life doesn't stop even when you have grand children who need to be fed. Again, I had flashbacks to when I was a Mum. Life doesn't stop when you are sick when children are around. 

This week I emptied a bottle of paper cow, had evening hot toddies as well as Lemsips. I treated my myself to anything and everything that could zap the cold. Finally it has loosened up and I am now in the end stage where my nose is a constant dripping tap. Even my evening with large G&Ts and red wine didn't completely kill off the germs. 

So from visiting my cousins in Watford, to a short visit in Sheffield, I went on to a weekend's tennis in Nottingham. Fortunately it was indoors. Amazingly it's Sunday and I'm still standing. I'm almost ready to face the next week with full energy and zest. 

Mrs Armitage on Wheels

 

Maiden voyage

Ever since Danielle got the cycling bug she has been spending money on bike "improvements" just like Mrs Armitage. The latest addition is a child seat on the crossbar. This is a complex little number that needed considerable patience to attach to the bike as the instructions bore no relationship to what needed to be done. When Sammi was little, I had little more than a wooden plank strapped to the crossbar and another for his feet. He held onto the handlebars and I pedalled. Danielle's choice has wrap-around foam-clad bars to hold her in. 

When Danielle was little, I had a seat on the back of my bike for her. That seat was little more than a glorified metal basket which she sat in. The worst of it was that she would fall asleep and slump to one side while I cycled. At least that was an improvement on what my father said he had. Apparently his big brother, my Uncle Maurice, roped him onto the back of his bike to cycle him to the farm. This was in the 1920s. Today, this would be seen as cruelty - I am sure he would be reported for maltreatment in this day and age.  

Teamwork - cleaning and fixing

Danielle's new attachment is a step up from the second-hand trailer which she bought to get Ezra-Mae to the village school. Now that four-year-old Ezra-Mae makes her way two miles up the tow path to school on her own bike, Danielle feels she can shed the trailer for all but the wettest days and plonk Mattaya on the crossbar. Danielle has bought suitable waterproofs too. Like Mrs Armitage on Wheels, there will probably be other additions to the bike!

I am proud of Danielle for embracing this new, energetic lifestyle. She says she feels much better for it too. I can imagine her cycling along and thinking aloud, "What this bike needs is..." I am also proud of my son, Sam. He found out this week that he has won an award for his dissertation. I was impressed when I read it but then I should be as I am his mother. He won an award on his graduation from St. Andrews but I can't remember what that was for - just to say - he must really embrace the academic life. Well done!

On Monday morning, my week turned upside down, I had an sms from the hospital to say I had an appointment to have my heel done. This procedure was not to be as dramatic as the right heel op that I had last February. All I needed was a little steroid injection. So, having read the message, I spent a good deal of time cancelling things in anticipation. All went well and now I can move so much easier - just a few tweaks of pain since the anaesthetic wore off. It is tempting to go full pelt but I have to take it easy because there is a small chance of my tendon rupturing. This procedure only took thirty minutes but organising it must have taken more than that time. I had four different appointment times arranged and cancelled. I made loads of phone calls, needed extra painkillers on prescription - wasted time and money! 

And so to the greater world beyond in a week when we wear poppies and remember those who gave their lives to make our world a better place. It has been reported that Israel has been burning ancient olive trees that are the livelihood of Palestinians. Why? Do they think this will bring about peace - not likely. Meanwhile, the IDF are bombing southern Lebanon - Again, why? It is not so much that Israel commits these atrocities, it is that this aggression and abuse to their neighbours seems acceptable behaviour to the rest of the world. This country, Israel, is making the pariah Taliban look like pussycats. Our world is skewed - we have lost sight of who the good guys are. And so, we have prayed for peace but we expect nothing more than accept that Israel will carry on killing with impunity.