The.warmest.day.of.the.year.

So.far.of.course,this.is.not.a.prediction.

This.is.a.slow.way.to.write.and.yes,I’m.aware.it.looks.as.if.I’m.drunk.
and.trying.to.hide.it.

Since.Amazon.hasn′t.told.me.they′ve.sent.my.new.keyboard,
it.looks.as.if.I′ve.a.few.days.to.wait.yet.

I’m.glad.I.stumped.up.the.extra.for.an.Apple.keyboard.though,
I′ve.just.used.my.son′s.best.one.and.it.is.still.noisier.than.mine.

On.the.other.hand,it.works.

Pictures.tomorrow.perhaps

The keyboard seems to be kaput. I can use half of it, so that’s all right if the only vowels I need are a and e. The biggest nuisance is that the space bar doesn’t work, so letters sound breathlessly rushed, unless I type one word per line. Or put a full stop between each word, which makes me sound like a robot.

Time to buy a new (waterproof) keyboard, I suppose.

The bishop came tonight. He prefers tea to coffee, is a splendid chap and all went well. I had no idea how many would turn up to the service and provided 70 communion wafers and counted the congregation anxiously in case I would have to scuttle up with reinforcements. 52 present, so, for once, no need to make a fool of myself.

I’m using my son’s spare computer at present. Yes, that’s the sort of son I have, and I’m grateful for it.

Sorry, this is dreadfully dull and once I’m back in business on a keyboard that doesn’t click, I’ll probably delete it and write something frightfully witty and entertaining instead. In the meantime, I’m trying to take a photo of the amazing golden pheasant, but he is a modest bird and turns his back on me when I approach, nonchalently clutching my camera and assuring him that all I want is to give him a handful of corn.

keyboard˙got˙wet,not˙working

Damn

maybe˙tomorrow

I had a letter from Norfolk County council this morning, notifying me that the cost of Meals on Wheels was going up, as from today. Unreasonably short notice, which they had tried to cover up by dating the letter 30th March. Unfortunately for them, their franking machine has a clear date of 7th April, last Friday.

Now, instead of putting a false date down, if they had simply said they were sorry for the short notice, I wouldn’t mind it. They don’t even need to give a reason or an excuse.

One thing I’ve learned over the years is that people are tolerant and forgiving on the whole (except newspaper journalists, who, professionally, are self-righteous and vindictive. Though I’m sure that in their private lives they are entirely charming and kind)) and if you tell them when there is a problem or you have made a mistake, they don’t mind at all and usually offer to help put it right.

This has the added advantage of giving you the reputation of honesty, so when you do need to cover up, you are more likely to get away with it.

I organise the meals on wheels delivery in the village by the way, I don’t receive it.

A quiet day. Church, the pub and some internet shopping. A new printer, as after 8 years and some ill-use (I dropped a pin in a couple of years ago and it wasn’t good for it) I decided it was time to indulge my affection for a new gadget.

Of course, when it arrives, I will curse it for a couple of weeks and wonder why I was foolish enough to rid myself of a machine which, while elderly in electrical years, was still working. In a month, I will love it.

I used to be a technophile, but then technology outpaced me so badly that I became nervous of anything new. Doesn’t stop me getting it, I just need a son or daughter on hand to hold my hand while I bewail instructions that, while making sense in that I understand each individual word, completely intimidate me because they do not actually mean anything unless you know just a bit more than I do.

So, as I’ve nothing to write about, I’ve put up a picture of some spring flowers. The tub is resting on a trolley as it’s too heavy to take off it. It will have to remain there until I empty it entirely, which won’t be for some years.

I take the long view and am patient. Until the credit card starts to twitch and I start online shopping……..

1. Rooftops as seen from St Mark’s. I like roofgardens.

2. Considering how famous Venice is for its glass, it’s surprising how hideous a lot of it is. This is on Murano, the island where the glass is made.

3. Quite a flotilla of gondolas, we were sitting on the steps at Salute at the time

4. Nice chimney. I like chimneys too.

5. A backstreet. And a bridge. And the campanile is on the huh, as we say in Norfolk.

1. The lions reminded me of the sketch with John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett, ‘I look down on him……..’

2. On a windowsill. I like to think that this was kindness and not, “mm, squab pie……”

3. Me in the foreground – that’s the only reason for this one

4. Just don’t open the window, put something on the sill and then absent mindedly knock it off.

5. Multi-coloured houses on Burano, the island where they make lace. And biscuits. And paint their houses brightly.

By special request (I get emails, you know, ones saying ‘please’). More to follow, but if you read this on Monday you’ll see the others first. Not my fault, Blogger would only accept 5 pictures at a time.

An article in today’s Times reports that shyness is now classified as a ‘syndrome’ and some experts believe that half the population suffer from it. Surely, half the population being shy means it’s just as normal as not being shy? Is there anyone who has never felt shy, ever – if so, he or she is surely the oddity.

It’s a carefully balanced article, which questions whether medicalisation of a personality trait is a good idea, whilst acknowledging the considerable difficulties shyness can cause.

I was the shyest child I have ever known. My life was paralysed by my inability to behave normally with other people. I never volunteered information or opinions at school and, although I did have friends, was never able to relax as I felt that there was a secret social code that I’d never learned and at any time I might make a frightful error that would make everyone despise and laugh at me. I never referred to anyone as a friend as they might not see me that way. I avoided calling people by their name but the reason for this is just too embarrassing to write. Parties were a nightmare. I did not use the telephone unless unavoidable – phoning people was just so intrusive.

Now I’m not shy. It took a while but I got over it.

I looked for the reasons for my shyness and realised that a lot of it was, not a lack of self-esteem, but too much of it. I didn’t try so that I would not fail but neither, of course, would I succeed. I realised that it didn’t matter if I made a fool of myself – this was a revelation. Even if I was embarrassed, even if everyone laughed, if I could see that it was indeed ridiculous and laugh too then I would feel closer to them, not more distant. If I concentrated on other people rather than myself, I might be kinder and more thoughtful.

I don’t necessarily suggest telling a shy person that he or she is self-centred, proud and arrogant, and I’m sure that many of them aren’t. But I wonder now if, instead of giving in to me or else trying to jolly or embarrass me out of it, someone might have had better results by pointing out that everyone feels shy, no one likes to get things wrong, but that’s the way it is. Cope with it. Who am I, to think that I matter? No one is really looking at me, after all. It might have worked, could have been surprisingly reassuring.

In the paper there was a shyness test from the Shyness Research Institute at Indiana University (yes, really). Imagining myself 30 years ago, I scored maximum marks of 21 ‘shyness is preventing you from reaching your full potential.’ Now I’d score 9 (minimum score 7 as you have to give yourself a point even if the question does not apply to you at all) and ‘shyness does not seem to be a problem’. Of course, I now classify any feeling of shyness in myself as pride, cowardice or understandable nervousness that I can overcome.

On the other hand, the last paragraph includes a quote from Jerome K. Jerome, who, shy himself, advises against finding a cure “Your attempt to put on any other disposition than your own will infallibly result in your becoming ridiculously gushing and offensively familiar. Be your own natural self, and then you will only be thought surly and stupid.”

Ridiculously gushing? – oh dear, I recognise myself. Nowadays it’s the surly and stupid part I try to hide.

You will notice that I’ve avoided mentioning offensively familiar.

Not a wonderful picture of the tadpoles a couple of days ago, but it was sunny and there was a lot of reflection; it was the best I could do. And the netting reflected too. That’s necessary because we have a harnser who is fond of tadpoles. For breakfast, that is, herons’ beaks aren’t made for kissing.

A proper child-proof pond net will be constructed soon.

A friend handed me a book to read on holiday. I thanked him, enjoyed reading it and gave it back with renewed thanks. I’ve just discovered it was intended as a gift. Oh I do feel gauche. And ungrateful. I’ll have to explain to him that I am a simple woman who needs clear explanations.

It would have been worse if I’d hung on to the book when it was a favourite he really didn’t want to lose.

At least he can read it himself now. And then the decision will be his, whether to treat it as a loan or my (rather ungenerous) gift to him.

Anyway, peach, if you read this, I know you better than to suggest you might have taken offence, but sorry anyway.