Worst jobs day

Jason from JCLcomputing made his monthly visit to our business today to back everything up and do numerous other things to solve all our problems with computers at work and home and mobile phones and the Endomondo, so I can track Steve when he is training and during long events. Jason is a lovely bloke but its real pain in the butt time as far as I am concerned. I wanted him to set me up with a new email address because since he changed the office set up set up a couple of months ago so that everything went out as Stephen Belt Antiques, I discovered that some of my personal emails have ended up in peoples junk boxes. 

It’s a nightmare isn’t it when you have to change all the bloomin’ passwords again. Fingers crossed that it all works well this time. 

When Steve left for work this morning, I had to drop him at Mike Hammonds to have work done on our smallest van before the next long journey on a very big job. No car for me today then. I was then dropped home again, both phones and the home laptop, all leads and power packs along with my home mouse all taken to work done. This meant that I had a day free to do the other jobs that tend to slide when the computer is around. 

Today was a big gardening day. I try my level best to restrict gardening to the nearest minimum. Ideally this works out at two weeks, when a lot of gardening gets done and hopefully only twice a year. This session has involved tidying up the Daffodils now they are finished. Buying a heap of bedding plants. Planting out seedlings that I have been bringing on. Then bringing the whole lot together planting out the Pelargonium’s, Petunias, Fuchsias some tiny little jobbies all in pots. Another few hours tomorrow and it should be almost done for the summer. Done that is apart from frequent watering and weeding and giving snails flying lessons.

 

 

 

Some of my passions

The things that make your heart beat faster and your eyes glow when you speak about it, no matter if it's hiking, yoga, gardening, painting, sex, meditation, photography, going for walks, helping others--- do that. Do it as often as you can, because that's what life is about. Creating as many passionate, happy moments as possible. Don't let anyone stop you from doing the things you love, not even yourself.

I found these words above on Facebook this morning posted by a young woman I know, Sam May, who enjoys the same sport as me, as does her sister who I am also in touch with via FB. Sam's post today prompted me to use this poem for today's blog. It was written yesterday and describes my training session that day. I like it because it combines my two passions: Triathlon and writing. My husband likes it  simply because it rhymes! He is not so keen on the ones he calls the Arty-Farty pieces. Poor lamb, he is subjected daily to my scribblings since I like to read them aloud when I think they are finished. Its like putting a stamp on it. I know that I am not a great poet but it works like therapy for me, takes me away from worries and hurtful things that people say without thinking.

Biking Hills 

The Route today was so carefully selected

Old ‘A’ road stands there almost neglected

So little traffic on this once busy road

Cars pass now at lesser speed thus slowed

Council planning office new construction

A village sees much needed noise reduction

Major trunk route changed to a country lane

Peace and quiet for dog walkers once again

Now a favourite place for a bit of repetition

Preparation for distant future competition

Cyclist’s workout hard on their uphill ride

Strength building helps to improve pride

No trucks seen there now for so many years

Safely riders can practice changing gears

Over and over, up and down over a mile

Stamina growing little by little all the while

Then home for well earned breakfast toast

A diary entry with a virtuous training boast

 

 

 

Florence Jenkins massacres Mozart

Movie: Florence Foster Jenkins

I wish I had been able to take all my friends with us last night to see film about Florence Foster Jenkins, who followed her dream to become a world class opera singer. It is a quite marvellous film about the tragic lady, with Meryl Streep, who rise’s marvellously to the occasion once more as generous patron of the arts this strange eccentric heiress was. 

 

I have not laughed that disgracefully for many moons although it is not really a comedy, and I was cross with myself because I thought I should not have been so unkind. I have to say that Mr Ageing Smoothie himself, Hugh Grant, was excellent, best I have ever seen perform, tender, caring and loving ,even if his character did enjoy the financial benefits of being her husband/manager. I take back everything I ever said about dear old Hugh and his position in top men’s eye candy league. David Haig was great as the music teacher who was happy enough to take the rich lady’s money but far too selfish and proud to attend her concerts. I would love to ask him how many takes there were for the hilarious singing lesson scenes that he played so astonishingly straight faced.  Brilliant. How did he do that?….. Oh yes, I remember, he's an actor!

A man sitting a few seats from me was rendered completely helpless for much of the film and he set me off again every time he shrieked with laughter. I remember FFJ's records being played on Family Favourites on Sunday lunchtime radio years ago. A lot of ordinary people might have sung their own first operatic aria along with her less than dulcet tones, who could be worse? It was so very sad.

 

This morning I searched You Tube to see if there were any of her recordings there and having listened to the reminder I found, I think the film was quite kind about the quality of her quite dreadful voice.  This Is her Killing the Queen of the Night from Mozart's Magic Flute.

 

 

 

Our very own Moveable Feast

 

Yesterday was our 37^th anniversary. It is a moveable feast and it was planned that way. We chose a church high day deliberately. Ascension Day seemed perfect to us. 

That year it fell on May 24^th in actual fact.  You can see the confusion because next year in 2017 it will be on May 25^th and in 2018 it is May 10^th, then, jump to 2020 for May 30^th. The only people who got it right each year are all dead now. My Mum, my Dad, and then Stephen’s Mum and his Dad.  

This year we had one congratulations card, that, from our friend Anthony who came out to dinner with us at the Field and Fork in Chichester for a pre theatre meal and then we walked back across to the Minerva Theatre to see the new musical version of Graham Greene’s amusing book, Travels with my Aunt, starring Patricia Hodge and Steven Pacey. We found it most enjoyable and very cleverly done on a superb set that was constantly changed, right in front of your eyes, by the cast themselves. The Minerva is quite small and there is no such thing as a bad seat. Its my favourite theatre by a mile. Steven Pacey has a perfect singing voice for the part of Henry and Patricia Hodge was excellent as the outrageous Aunt Augusta, though her costumes did not, to my mind, match the character correctly; bit frumpy really. That is the only criticism I have though the rest of the cast all did splendid job in support of the stars. 

We had had a bumpy old start to our life together with opposition from just about every corner. There had been acrimonious divorces on both sides. What seemed to get right up everybody’s noses was that were so happy together…. Still are…. Husband and wife…..Best friends…..Business partners….Training mates. We hold hands in the cinema and at home watching TV. 

And they said it wouldn’t last. Yes, they did. They all said exactly that, frequently.  Most people know the tune to these lyrics: Nah, nah, nah, na-na! 

We are as happy, as they say, ‘As pigs in the brown stuff’!

 

 

Nightmare

 

I slept heavily last night

Deeply and troubled

The nightmare seemed to last forever

It was a combination

Of remembering a fright

Coupled with

A loved one’s visitation

Meant the images were doubled

Yes, a combination of things

There was a fall

In my recollection

That had happened

Three years ago

Almost to the day

Well nearly anyway

A painful journey home

From a holiday

The pain in my dream

Was as severe

As it was then

Three years ago

As if three broken bones

Ugly cuts and grazes

Were not enough to take

My dear sister in law

Rang as we drove home

I heard her clearly last night

My brother was very ill

She said, "Very ill"

My brother was with me last night

In the room near the bed

“Hello Baby” he said

At least he said that in my head

Same pet name from childhood

It wasn’t dark, it wasn’t light

The pain in my foot and arm

Almost unbearable I swear

He stood peacefully

No sense of fear or harm

As he stood quietly there

Looking into my eyes

 I woke up and found

That I was still in pain

Climbed out of bed

Without a sound

I limped out to the hall

Still in pain

Still

Then I heard my husband call

Calling back I said

That I had had a dream

That I was broken still

He told me it was in my head

Just a dream my sweet man said

Then fully awake

The pain slipped slowly away

To a level more bearable

I know not which had

Caused the most pain

Reliving my agony or

That my brother was gone again

 

DIY Man

Keeping the nagging of my husband to an absolute minimum is a firm rule of mine. Being the son of a woman who was a Nag-bag of Olympic standards, I realised early in out relationship that I had better practice tactics as far away from his old mum’s methods as possible. That was something that the poor woman never ever got her head around. Nag Steve; and all that happens is that job will be put off and put off and put off…. Until Hell Freezes Over! He is one of those men that doe’s not respond to being pecked at. 

My method is to leave any DIY for Steve to notice. He will do it, once it becomes a pain in the butt to him. I notice though that he always requires me to assist when he does decide to get a home job done. Pass the screw driver, screws, etc. Hold the drill, ladder, steps. Fetch the hammer, and clean up any mess. I say nothing other than, “Let me know when you need coffee darling”. 

I notice though, that Steve does not seem to think that I do need an assistant when I set out to do a household job, or gardening. My jobs are it seems, my jobs. This rule stops at maintaining my bike, thank heaven and all the saints. Steve tends to my bikes tiniest need immediately. He NEVER tells me when to do this or that around the house. That may be so that I can never say, “Why don’t you do it”. Who would complain when he cooks so well and wants me the stay out of the kitchen until he calls for serving up help. He gives me count down times to make sure I am available once needed. 

We have peaceful arrangements. And, it suits me well enough.