Monthly Archives: January 2008

of course, in my case, it’s more ‘life’s a bitch and then you diet’. Hm

I received a phone call at the shop this morning. “I’d like to order two pounds of parsnips and some sprouts” said a voice. “Hello, Bette,” I replied – the Sage had put her up to it of course.

She told me that she had explained to our unhappy member that I had confirmed that we could not arrange things as she wanted, but that the lady concerned – let us call her Miss B. – would not accept the situation. Would I phone her, please? Yes, as soon as I’d checked the prices of aubergines and avocados and written up the new (lower) price of tomatoes.

Miss B was really quite difficult. She tried very hard to intimidate me, and accused me several times of discrimination. I was vastly polite, didn’t rise to anything she said, was very regretful – this is true, I’d rather help than hinder any time and I honestly don’t like anyone to be disadvantaged. I am a peacemaker at heart and would rather give in than make trouble on almost every occasion – but I didn’t give an inch.

She changed tack several times, in fact, sometimes saying she could walk and climb steps and sometimes not. She also said she was deaf, and so needed to sit at the front. I said that there is a loop system – but she says she doesn’t care to wear a hearing aid. She heard every word I said, but of course she may have equipment to amplify her telephone receiver.

The theatre in question is a very old building, and there have to be some concessions to that in the facilities that they offer, as it’s a listed building. However, there is wheelchair access, with an automatic door, the controls of which are easily reachable from a wheelchair. It is possible to reach the auditorium without changing levels, there is a disabled lavatory and I think that it complies with regulations. There are six seats that can be removed and two, at least, wheelchairs can be placed there. Obviously, one would have to book them in advance.

Now, the theatre trustees also allow one wheelchair to be taken nearer the front. When we had to evacuate the theatre during a lecture because of a false alarm, we realised that, not only did our member cause a safety hazard because she couldn’t vacate her seat, but that she needed a completely clear aisle to get out of the theatre. Furthermore, the place where there was room for a chair, in front of the side rows of seats, partly blocked the view of the stage if filled by a person in a wheelchair; the chair being higher than a theatre seat – this might not be too bad when there were actors moving about, but would be a considerable annoyance if you were looking at slides on a fixed screen. For those two reasons, our committee decided that, whatever the theatre policy was, we would insist that wheelchair users should use the designated area with removed seats. This would not put people at a disadvantage, as the views and acoustics are good throughout this small theatre, and in fact the back seats fill up far quicker than the unpopular front seats, because you don’t get a crick in your neck (and you can make a quick getaway, important when you are paying £1.30 an hour for parking).

I explained this. She accused me of discrimination. I refuted this and explained the safety hazard. She accused me of discrimination. I refuted it and explained that we want to welcome her to the theatre and are very happy to accept her carer free of charge, but that we have to consider the comfort and safety of other members too.

Then she said that, in an emergency, she could leave by the door at the front of the auditorium. I said that it was too steep for a ramp. She said that she could walk down the stairs. I asked her if she could walk up them too – she said yes. I said that, in that case, we would be very happy for her to sit in the seat of her choice. If she was able to leave her wheelchair at the door, whichever door, and walk in, we would give her any additional help she needed and would be very glad that she could come and enjoy the lecture. She wanted to know why, in that case, we were discriminating against her by not allowing her to bring in her wheelchair.

You think I’m going on a bit here? This is nothing. I promise, nothing. I spent nearly three-quarters of an hour discussing it. I said that I’d raise the matter at committee, if she’d write to me outlining her case; I was telling her the decision made at committee following a similar situation. She said that isn’t much good, when the lecture is tomorrow. I said that she could have asked before, rather than interrupting a committee member’s Sunday lunchtime. This was the only time I sounded a note of criticism.

She said she would resign and wanted her subscription back. I refused. She said we’d taken her money under false pretences. We went through the whole discrimination thing again. I said that, in any case, we’d already paid her capitation fee to the head office. “You’ll just have to be out of pocket, then, won’t you?” she said. I said that we would discuss her individual situation in committee, but that we feel that we have made sufficient arrangements for each member to see and hear the lecture and so that there was no justification for returning her subscription.

In the end, she said she’d like the seats to be taken out, but that she may not come to the lecture, depending on the weather. I said that we would welcome her, and quite understand if she was not able to come – furthermore, if she felt able to walk to her seat then she would be welcome to do that, regardless of the removed seats. I added that I hoped to meet her tomorrow and that I hoped that she would decide to remain a member.

I haven’t mentioned that she said she was going to report me to Head Office – I said that she was more than welcome to, but that each Society is autonomous, that I’d already checked the legality of the situation, and that she would be referred back to me.

I felt annoyed and harrassed at the end. She had wanted to bully me by calling me discriminatory and thought I’d be scared. I am quite indignant at this.

Anyway, afterwards I rang to make arrangements, and then went to have a lovely lunch at Mahsrae Teerts Efac. I had mussels, in a wine, cream and tarragon sauce and a very large glass of wine. Then I went to a music lesson at the High School – I was assisting at rather than participating in the lesson. Then I went back to the shop.

Now, Al and family are home and they have had a lovely time. My shopkeeping duties are over for now, and nothing went wrong. And my sister and I have spent the last hour on the phone together, resulting in near-hysterical laughter, largely because that’s better than crying. Not that we felt like crying, it was more a ‘life’s a bitch and then you die’ scenario.

Goodnight, sweeties
xx z

It’s déjà vu all over again, as they say tautologically

You know this society wot I’m chairman of? – a year or so ago, we had a member who resigned in a huff. Thing is, she is disabled and uses a wheelchair. She asked if her carer could accompany her free of charge, which we agreed. She used to get out of her wheelchair and sit in a seat where there was extra legroom. Then the fire alarm went off in the middle of a lecture. The carer started to lift her, a committee member fetched the electric wheelchair – which she didn’t know how to control, so the disabled lady started to get angry with her – and meantime the rest of the row were blocked from leaving the theatre. It was a false alarm, but after that we explained that it was not safe for her to use a seat that she could not get up from, and asked her to remain in her wheelchair. There are two rows of three seats at the back of the theatre that can be removed, and we arranged that this should be done.

The next month, she sat at the back, but in a seat at the end of the central row rather than in the side rows we’d cleared for her. Of course, the other people in the row were stuck again. We explained that this was no help and just made the blockage at the back of the theatre rather than the front. We refrained from saying that one paying person was taking up six seats, because that wasn’t her fault, but we did feel that she wasn’t really co-operating. The theatre is a very old building and, whilst it has full disabled access, it can’t give full accommodation to everyone’s wishes.

After several letters, phone calls and a couple of meetings, she resigned and asked for her money back. We refused, as we’d already paid her capitation fee to the main society and it was her choice not to take up the offer we’d made.

I’ve just had a phone call to say that we’ve another member who wants to do exactly the same thing. Additionally, she wants a ramp to be put at the theatre entrance to the front rows, and seemed unable to understand when it was explained that it wasn’t possible because the steps are too steep. She says she has to sit at the front or she can’t hear. There’s a sound system with an induction loop, however, for people with hearing aids – and the angle from the front row means she can’t see to lipread if the lecturer is behind the lectern, and if not, he or she would be in the dark as only the lectern is lit up – so I think she’s making an excuse there.

Maybe if I had to use a wheelchair it would make me stroppy. I know that disabled access is still limited and that simple, helpful measures are usually not taken. I think that it’s a pity people have to fight for something that should be done without question. But I also think that there are circumstances where one has to make concessions, particularly where other people are affected. I hope she will accept the situation, but if not I’ll do my politely unhelpful thing, because she is not being reasonable.

Z plans two days ahead!!(!)

I’ve spent the last half-hour lying in a hot bath. No one, surely, can claim that a shower is as relaxing and soothing as a bath. I suspect that showers only started to become really popular once people heated their bathrooms and, of course, we are resolutely old-fashioned and do not. Though a concession to decadence caused us to install a heated towel rail.

It’s the early service tomorrow, so I’ll have to get up in time to arrive at church by 7.30 to set things up. Then, if it isn’t raining (I don’t feel quite that stalwart right now), bike in for the paper, home for breakfast and then back to church to practise playing hymns for the 11 o’clock service. I say practise – in one case, learn also. After that, a meeting of the Admin group. I’ve just drafted a brief agenda – it is sketchy enough to include, as Item 6, “whatever I’ve forgotten to put down”. Whatever I have, I hope I will remember, or I’ll have to call another meeting. I have offered to take along a bottle of wine, as reward for our dutiful attendance.

In the afternoon – – – whatever I want.

In the evening, write up accounts from today (I had Important Things to do so didn’t take time on that) and work out the order for Monday.

Monday will be my last day at the shop, and I won’t have to be there all the time, as Tim stays until 4.30. I am planning to go out for lunch, and then go to help out at a music lesson at the high school before going back to work out the next day’s order, close the shop and … go home and relax. And greet my grandbabies.

Z runs late

I was really tired last night, and would have liked to go to bed right after dinner. But I knew that I’d have woken up in the early hours, so I hung on and was in bed by 11 and asleep soon after. Half an hour after that, the Sage woke me…we’ll draw, I suggest, a polite veil over the next interlude, but if you have ever read my rules for marriage, the third was called upon, and I fell into another heavy sleep around midnight.

The alarm racketed at 6.15. I turned it off and went back to sleep. The second alarm told me the News According To Radio 4 at 7.15 and I got up. I was still tired afterwards, and I think it was that fact that led me to eat all day.

7.30, porridge. Now, this is no delicious and indulgent oatmeal dish; it is made with a teacup half-full of porridge oats, the same cup half-filled with milk and topped up with water and a pinch of salt. This is boiled strenuously until it thickens and then eaten. No sugar, milk or additional salt, let alone syrup, cream or even yoghurt.

But by 10, I craved a bacon sandwich. I mentioned it to Tim, who salivated, so I toddled down to the caff – they deliver, bless their lovely hearts. I thought I might not need much lunch, but found myself in the bakery buying a large granary turkey and salad roll and a cup of home-made vegetable soup.

Mind you, I couldn’t manage all the roll. But I still ate more than usual … well, by one bacon roll and possibly the soup. I’ve a feeling that the diet is stuffed for the day, though. There was still enough of yesterday’s chicken and ham dish to last for tonight, though that was, at last, the finish of the Christmas ham.

Ooh, very unpleasant. The fire in the dining room hadn’t been lit and so supper was eaten in the drawing room – yes, darlings, a TV dinner. I’ve shocked you, I know. Ro had on a programme about people who only eat raw food, and within moments one was subjected to the sight of a colonic irrigation. I addressed myself resolutely to my plate and advised the Sage to do the same. But then we heard a couple whose regime involved veggie juice and enemas – as they put it, Juice and Sluice. The bloke said that, when he smells coffee, he thinks of his intestine rather than his tastebuds (well, I can’t remember what he said, but that was the gist). As well as coffee enemas, they use lemon enemas – or, they said, ‘lenemas’.

Quite often, when someone has written a humorous blogpost, a commenter remarks that he or she has spat coffee, or possibly breakfast cereal, over the keyboard. I don’t know if this is literally true very often. But in this case, my mouthful absolutely did get ejected onto my wineglass (the outside) and the newspaper (waiting to be read when I’d finished eating). And not because I was laughing.

Z leaves late

Couldn’t last. It was quarter to seven by the time I left the shop tonight.

The Best Landlord in the World According To Badgerdaddy came in today. We chatted, and he confided that tonight he plans to make his first ever steak and kidney pudding, with proper suet pastry. I promptly invited myself to dinner, and he agreed, if I came with a bottle of wine…we both knew I didn’t mean it, but on the other hand I rather did.

However, when I did get back, dinner was in the oven already, thanks to the Sage. Not just to him, for I had done some forward planning at the weekend (it involved the final bit of the Christmas ham) and all was needed was the addition of mashed potato and half an hour in the oven. But the Sage had accomplished that bit and, furthermore, had filled and switched on the dishwasher. This is not unimpressive and I was appreciative – not that I thanked him, for that would imply it was my job, but I did say ‘jolly good’ or some such hearty expression of approbation.

I haven’t slept much in the past few nights, as I’ve gone to bed late, not slept much and arisen early. So I think I’ll have an early night.

By the way, my Christmastime credit card bill arrived yesterday and I didn’t open it…I did today of course, I was only busy – but it was a lot less than I’d rather anticipated. I waved it in the Sage’s general direction for him to deal with – we have a clear demarcation of responsibilities in this household. I use the credit card, he pays the resulting bill. Of course, his own present was paid for in cash from my own bank account, I am entirely reasonable in this sort of regard.

Z closed early

It was so quiet this afternoon that, at about 4 o’clock, I decided to start packing up. There is a big outside display, which fills most of the shop, so once you’ve brought everything in you fairly well have to close up. I did it slowly, occasionally stopping to serve a customer.

After a while, the Sage turned up to lend a hand. I went to phone in tomorrow’s orders and counted out the change for the tills for tomorrow. I kept a little pile of change in case I had a final customer. I suppose it was inevitable that, between 4.30 and 5, I had about a dozen final customers.

One of them usually arrives at 5.15 and stays for a chat, which is very nice and friendly, but does rather hold me up as I’m trying to bring everything in and count the takings at that time, and have to wait politely. But he came a bit early, and there were other people there too so he didn’t stay long. Another 5 o’clock customer, who comes along after finishing work, turned up too, and they are the two latish regulars whom I’d not want to disappoint, so after that I shut up shop half an hour early with a clear conscience.

It was a churchwardens’ meeting tonight, and I remembered to take along grapes and satsumas as well as jelly babies, wine gums, chocolate Minstrels* and Maltesers to keep the meeting cheerful. I really wanted a jelly baby, but I didn’t have one.

*Minstrels are not at all like M&Ms. For a start, they are much bigger, so more chocolately, and they are not multi-coloured.

Z rose early

I was eating virtuous porridge at 6.30, ready to start work in good time. But first I had to speak to the milkman. He limped, rather more than I usually do. He broke his ankle in November, apparently, but continued working as there was no one to take over his job. Just before Christmas, he turned his foot and damaged some ligaments. Ow.

The Indian chap who runs a little shop near the high school called at 8 o’clock, which I could have done without as I wanted to get on. He asked for five cabbages; when I charged £3.50, he offered 60p apiece. I refused and he asked why. I said that I only worked there and it was up to Al, if he wished, to give a discount. Then he took £1.53-worth of bananas – just as well I said he could have them for £1.50, as that was all he offered me. Fair enough, I dutifully bargain, as expected, when I’m in India, if appropriate.

We were more-or-less set up by 9, when I had to leave. I was, I must say, a little annoyed on my return to find that Eileen had cut the outside leaves off all the cauliflowers when I had said to leave some, as they would keep better for tomorrow. They are locally grown and delivered every other day. Eileen hates to have anything on a shelf that could possibly be displayed, but you can’t sell all your stock every day and it keeps better in a cool dark box. I’d not have minded if I’d said nothing, but I had.

The meeting was fine. We were vastly entertained by D, who had been asked to discuss some concerns regarding the venue of our lectures. The administrator arrives for work at 10 am and is, soon afterwards, found eating her breakfast. When D met her for an 11 o’clock appointment, the lass was eating toast. She explained the conversation – she has a wonderfully tactful, yet forthright turn of phrase. Someone wondered if she had spoken to other members of staff. “I am placing my liaison through her – and her piece of toast” clarified D. I cracked up.

This afternoon, I realised that, at half-past three, I had been too busy to eat lunch. In the next few minutes I started to become slightly incoherent and talk backwards, but was still too busy to eat for a while. This is just as well. I have rigourised my diet as I suspect I have regained a lb or two of those shed before Christmas.

Z takes heed of advice

AFC 30K helpfully suggested I take a nap. So I did. I didn’t get my work done, but it was far more useful than that – though not quite so enjoyable for Tilly (the dog, Dave, the dog). She was curled up on the armchair next to my desk, when I went and sat next to her…she was pleased at first at the attention, but when I removed her collar, the better to put my head down and lean on her, she became visibly patient for a few minutes, before sloping off to the sofa in the other room instead.

So, I had 15 minutes sleep and then stayed curled up for a little longer until the Sage told me (as I’d asked him to) that it was time to go back and take over from Tim.

Earlier in the day, I’d bumped into an old friend – his son was at primary school with Ro. He became very ill with a brain tumour a couple of years ago, and his prognosis was poor. But he responded well to treatment and, a few months ago, received the news that scans show no signs of cancer, and they still don’t. He looks great and very happy. His son and he were pushing shopping, taking it in turns to look after their niece/granddaughter and we chatted cheerfully for a few minutes. He has been given early retirement from a demanding job on grounds of ill health – “I feel so well now, I’m almost guilty” – “Yes, but if you went back to it, you’d be ill again” – “It’d see me off.”

The Sage came in, kindly, to help me pack up the shop. I don’t think he’d quite bargained on the length of time it takes to count the takings, reckon the order for the next day, phone it in and do the paperwork. He couldn’t leave, as he usually does, because he was giving me a lift. I’d said how strong the wind was – just after I’d got back to the shop, at about 4.20, it suddenly poured with rain for a few minutes, and the wind died right away. Isn’t that odd?

Z is irresolute

Your New Year’s Resolutions

1) Get a pet parrot

2) Eat less garlic

3) Travel to Greece

4) Study animal behavior

5) Get in shape with pilates

Thanks to Cinn for this one. I think I’m doomed to fail, however – I want a puppy not a parrot, I think you can’t eat too much garlic, I’m going to Spain, not Greece (although come to that my friends who have a holiday home in Corfu might sweep me up one day – they would have last September if I’d had time). I do continue to study animal behaviour, however, and possibly pilates isn’t out of the question, though I’m still banking on cycling.

Talking of cycling, the wind was so strong today that at one point I had to get off and walk as I was having to stand up on the pedals to make any progress at all. It was equally windy this week last year. I’ve a couple of hours off, as both Eileen and Tim are in the shop today. Just as well, for I have to get ready for my meeting tomorrow morning and my brain is disengaged at present.