Monthly Archives: March 2011

Ziki (but no leaks)

I checked out where Roses lived on my phone, and was able to park at the end of the road.  I recognised the house by the rebuilt (by Dave) wall, and was able to greet Boy by name when he opened the door, because I’ve seen it on Facebook.  There’s no room for secrecy, where Z is concerned.  Although, to be fair, Roses had told me her address and invited me for lunch.

And lunch, plus coffee, lasted for over three hours.  If you’ve met her, you’ll know that she’s fabulous company, and if you haven’t, don’t lose any opportunity.  I had so much fun, and thank you very much, Roses darling xxx

If I had any sense at all, I would be doing some work now, because it would save me having to explain not having yet done it by tomorrow lunchtime.  Hm.  The jury is genuinely out, at present.  It doesn’t help that I need to borrow the Sage’s laptop to do it, because there’s a programme I have to use that I haven’t got on my computer.  I suppose that I could do everything else, and get it all ready to go, and finalise it in the morning.  I could.  I might, indeed, although this is the third day that I haven’t glanced at the newspapers.

It’s slightly worrying, that I never seem to do one thing – that is, it’s not unusual to be listening to the radio or music, using the computer, using the phone to check emails or Facebook or play a game (if a website takes a while to load with our slow Broadband, I do something else while I’m waiting), whilst I’ve got a newspaper or book open.  But thinking about it, I’ve never *just* watched television, but read at the same time, and indignantly denied that I’m not fully engaged with both.

Gosh.  The Sage bought a pie at the bakery.  I omitted to mention that I had pudding at lunchtime, but accepted a small piece – he was going to give me a quarter, but I took half of that.  I’ve just observed him polishing off the last piece.  He never puts on a pound either.  Infuriating.

Exhibition

I enjoyed the exhibition, although I thought it was a bit thin for £12, especially considering that many of the pieces are on loan from the British Museum, where they are freely on view.  Last exhibition I paid that for, there were dozens of fabulous Picassos on view, worth a lot more (and gathered from further afield, and much more fragile) than most of these.  However, I thought it had been well put together.  I particularly liked the “Theft by Finding” room, where ancient sculptures were put against similar modern ones for comparison.  The wooden Narcissus, a flower given a human form, I found fascinating.  The duck weight, I can’t remember from where but it dated from 2,000-1500 BC, was probably my favourite piece of all.  I loved its simplicity and that the maker had bothered to make a functional object into a sculpture; also that he had obviously had to do it within the constraints of its weight.

In the room with ceramic objects, I glanced at one cabinet and didn’t like it much, and the other and liked it very much – and yet, they weren’t that different to look at.  I just don’t get English ‘between the wars’ pottery, Bernard Leach and the like.  The other cabinet, which held Chinese ceramics, I was drawn to.  Hard to explain, even to myself.  Also in that room was Barbara Hepworth’s Three Forms, which I love.  The next room was given over to two large statues, one by Hepworth and one by Henry Moore, and I can never get too much of either of them.  Then there was a room with a hanging installation of sheets of coloured perspex, which I liked, and then one with a large construction of bolted-together metal, painted red, which I didn’t.  I mean, not much to dislike, just meh.  I liked the long pavement of chalk rocks, and the hanging street-like thingy with stuck-on half bricks and bottle, but not the 120 bricks.  I rather liked Damien Hirst’s fly-blown barbecue, but would have liked it better had it been disgustingly crawling with maggots…what?  No, go on, you have to have been there.  I liked the photograph of the artist, wearing a pleated skirt and doing a handstand on a beach – “a discrepancy between the felt position and the seen position” – which reminded me of the shell sculpture by Maggie Hambling on the beach at Aldeburgh, although (not having looked it up) I don’t suppose they look the same in the least.

All in all, I don’t find that it’s necessarily the age or the form of a piece of sculpture that matters to me.  Knowing nothing, I just react.  I am dreadfully inartistic, but if I could do anything I would like to sculpt.  I’m too ham-fisted to try, and too ignorant to know what I’d want to do and be frustrated by a lack of skill.

I didn’t buy anything in the shop, although I was tempted by small mugs decorated with delightful Tracy Emin sketches of birds and cats.  I think.

Not much of an art critic, hey.  Heh.  Unless you’ve seen it, you won’t have much clue what I’m talking about, either.  Sorry, darlings.

Tomorrow, I venture to Norwich to visit Roses.  Am I not a lucky Z?

Z buys books

Home again, darlings, I’m sure you’d have missed me frightfully if you’d known I’d been away.  I went to London for the afternoon and evening.  Just got back.  I went to a sculpture exhibition at the Royal Academy and then to my friend Lynn’s book launch.  It was so good to see her, we haven’t met since Weeza’s wedding, which will be six years ago in August.  She only lives in Tunbridge Wells, there’s no good reason not to see each other more often but we never get around to it.

Her poems are extremely impressive.  I expected a lot, but they surpassed expectations.  The subject matter surprised me, being Mary.  Yes, that Mary, and from her perspective – I was going to put in a couple of quotations, but I’d end up with whole poems, I don’t want to diminish them with a soundbite.  She also had a small anthology of lighter poems, which I also bought … several copies of both.  I made her sign copies of each for all my children!

Her family asked me to stay on and have supper with them, but I couldn’t, because I was booked on the 9 o’clock train home.  I shared a table with three cheerful blonde women, two of whom had been shopping and the third who works in London.  She said, she’s about to renew her season ticket and it’ll cost over £5,000.  £5,400, I think she said.  Ouch.  They all got out at Ipswich.  The one with the season ticket is training to run the London Marathon.  The other two had various shopping bags and had evidently had a successful day…

All I bought were books.  Lynn’s, and before that, since I’d had twenty minutes spare I’d wandered into Waterstone’s, where the habit of a lifetime overtook me and I bought three novels.  Since I’d taken two books to read on the train, I hardly needed to, but I was unable to prevent myself.

Practically Z

Incoherence dipped to a new low last night – actually, that’s not right, is it – I mean, coherence dipped or incoherence soared.  I was sober but tired, a poor combination.

We received our census form yesterday.  I have no objection to filling it in, it’s rather less intrusive than many of the questions that many businesses ask.  For the first time in our marriage, we will just fill it in for the two of us.  I remember the last time, taking some time to work out how many rooms there are in the house and I’ll have to do it again – it’s a bit odd because a bathroom isn’t counted but a utility room is.  Our bathroom is fairly large, having been converted from a bedroom (in 1960, when the Sage’s sister got married), but we’ve a very small utility room that I wouldn’t really have counted at all, which is smaller and less of a room-like space than the hall, the cloakroom or the landing, none of which is counted and all of which are converted from rooms.  Still.  Maybe this is an unusual house.

On Dave’s blog, he was talking about his ideal house and its location and, in the comments, daydreaming as a comfort or therapy was mentioned.  That would be the opposite of therapy for me – a ‘safe place’ in my mind would not feel safe or comforting if it were unattainable.  For that reason, I can think more easily about what I wouldn’t like in a house rather than what I would – which is rather the same attitude, now I think about it, that I took when talking about an ideal holiday and an ideal dog.  I started with what I don’t want.

Friends of ours look after dogs for their owners when they are on holiday – in their home, it’s a fairly informal arrangement, not a boarding kennel.  They have two dogs themselves, one a charming little spaniel, very small, that I love, and the other a black, setter-shaped one, which is a delightful dog but which is untrainable, especially around chickens which it kills, and I wouldn’t have at any price.  Our friends have run into a problem.  This week’s dog, which is a small terrier of the Jack Russell type, managed to get out of their back yard by squeezing through a space they didn’t think any dog could get through.  They can’t now find it, and the owner is due back tomorrow.  Apparently, she never lets it off the lead when it’s out, as it can’t be trusted not to run off.  I’d see no point in having a dog that I couldn’t take for a run off the lead.  It would be no pleasure for me or the dog.  Trust, and freedom within understood parameters, is fundamental.

Z’s daily blather

School dinner again today, a chilli vegetable stew with rice.  Particularly good.  School meals are one of the things we decided the County service wasn’t up to scratch over, a few years ago, so took it in-house.  Our greater efficiency meant that we were able to serve better ingredients and larger quantities for the same price, and so we break even, which is what we aim to do. In the summer term, when there are fewer pupils because of exams, retired people from sheltered housing complex estates are invited in for lunch, which everyone seems to enjoy.

The sale catalogues are printed, so the Sage is spending much of his time stuffing envelopes.  He writes a note to a lot of the people on the mailing list, so he does most of the work.  Our spring auction is earlier than usual, the second Friday in April rather than the last, chosen because of Easter and the next Bank Holiday weekend – the announcement of the royal wedding day came later but reinforced our decision.

Interestingly, I found cycling much easier this morning – it must be because of the warmer weather.  There are a couple of clumps of violets that the chickens haven’t pecked, and the buds are showing colour, if white can be so called, on the blackthorn.  I love the sight of its white blossom against the leafless branches,

I just heard on the news that the police are planning a large demonstration against job and wage cuts.  I don’t get into politics here, so no comment – but the thought quis custodiet ipsos custodes? was irresistible.

Apple Pigs and Apple Pads

Isn’t it great when you form a link with someone?  You make a slightly obscure reference, and someone  recognises it and greets it with enthusiasm – that has happened with Belgian Waffle and me.  She referred to a favourite book from her young childhood, and I was able to reply, not only that my children had the book, but that it was right next to me, because I now read the same book to my grandchildren.  And so I promised her that I’d post some photos of it, because it’s out of print and her copy has long ago disappeared.

I’m afraid that the second photo down is out of focus, and none of them is great, but things happened and I didn’t get around to taking the pictures in daylight, and finally took them with a phone against my ear on the drawing room carpet.  The book on the carpet, not the phone or the ear.  It is a delightful book and I hope it might be reissued one day, perhaps by a company such as Lulu, which prints to order. Weeza’s favourite book as a toddler, Smith the Lonely Hedgehog, by Althea Braithewaite, was printed in that way and I bought Zerlina a copy plus a spare in case it ever was lost.
I have got as far as registering with Apple my interest in a new iPad.  They aren’t taking orders yet.  I agreed with Weeza when she said that it won’t change my life (sorry to sound overdramatic) in the way my phone has, because there isn’t that much more of a change to make, in truth.  But I am looking forward to it immensely.  I also am looking forward to the absurdly grand gesture – the really good bargain to be had, at present, is to buy the original iPad at a reduced rate.  But, although I rarely indulge myself very much (you observe the careful qualification), when I do, I have little interest in being cautious.  I shall also buy myself a new printer, so that I can print from the iPad wirelessly, just because I can.  
Just because I can.  Hah.

Z has eaten rather too much

We had a most entertaining day.  Everyone was here in the afternoon and board games were brought through from next door and I provided cards, so that there were various things going on.  The dishwasher has been on twice today and there’s still a stack of crockery waiting to make another load.

Tomorrow, I’m going to Norwich for lunch – a group of us are going to the City College, where the catering students choose a menu, cook and serve the food as part of their training.  It’s very reasonable, £6.20 for a two-course meal – I haven’t been there for some years, but it always used to be good.

Weeza asked Dilly if they have chosen a name yet for their baby – they haven’t, it seems, and asked for suggestions.  Mine were Huckleberry (I’d relinquish the dog’s name for the baby if necessary), Zephyr or Pericles.  At least, if they don’t take me up on any of these, I can give the baby whatever blog name I like.

Paddling

I went to help John set up his new iPad today, which took a while.  He hadn’t got iTunes and, although he had an Apple account, he didn’t realise it and didn’t know the password.  By the time all was sorted out, I had to come home so I left him with a manual on his computer and a suggestion that he practise, and that once he knows just what he wants, I’ll be around again if he needs help.  I rather hope he will, admittedly, I haven’t had nearly enough fun yet.

At least it’s good experience for when I buy my iPad.  I have saved up and am ready to go, as soon as the crush has died down for the first iPad2 buyers.

Ro and Dora are coming over for a late lunch and Weeza, Phil and Zerlina for an early tea.  The two meals won’t quite meet in the middle.  I need to go shopping in the morning for extras.  Weeza and I had a fine conversation this evening and I chortled a lot.  A woman and her daughter, a woman and her mother, can share and laugh about all sorts of things, including quite personal matters.  When Weeza was in her late teens, she was telling me stuff and I was a bit “errr” and she said “Mum, I’m treating you as a friend, not as a mother,” and it realigned my thoughts somewhat.

You know I went to the zoo the week before last? – it was with John’s son and family – well, since then he (the son) has had acute appendicitis and an operation.  Apparently, the appendix burst as it was being removed – John said he thought I would want to know all the details – of course, I knew you would too…ew… anyway, it was all right and he’s home again, though not much chance of a rest with three young children.

Sandy thought, from my measured and careful comments, that I’d gone off the idea of the school applying for independence as an academy.  No indeed, I haven’t.  It’s just that I have to remember that my maverick tendencies aren’t for everyone, so I have to be sure that my preference is backed up by facts.  As I’m the most cautious maverick that anyone could hope to find, that is not at all unlikely.  But I’ll have an open mind to the end – even past the governors’ decision, because nothing is final until the last paper is signed.

Springing up again

Thank you for your comments on yesterday’s post, and particular thanks to Chris for sending the Spring – it’s been a beautiful day today – and to Rog for his sound sense.  I usually listen to podcasts when I’ve missed something, I’ve not got into the way of subscribing, but it’s the obvious thing to do now that there’s nothing to listen to at the time I want to turn on the radio.  I have acted on the suggestion and now have a nice little array of programmes on the phone ready to entertain me.  In fact, I’ve heard some of them already today.

My car’s battery was flat again yesterday and the Sage gave me a lift.  Today, it has a new battery.  And we’ve reattached the bicycle brake – a cable had come apart.  I’ve phoned and paid for my car insurance, and told the man on the end of the phone (who answered at once, there wasn’t even time for the announcement to say that my call would be taken shortly) that I was pleased with the reasonable quote and hadn’t looked any further.  The excess has gone up, but I’ve never actually had a claim and, although it can happen at any time of course, I’d probably rather have a lower premium rather than a lower excess that I may never use.  Um, and I’ve made an appointment at the bank to put the vast (modest) sums of money that have accrued in my current account somewhere.  I’ve defrosted a fridge.  I’ve filled in a form that’s been glaring malevolently at me for the last few days and I signed a letter to go out to school parents on Monday.  I didn’t write it on this occasion, though.  So I’ve got the day-to-day admin out of the way before the weekend.  Jolly good.

The other thing that I just remembered was that there were new levels due out this evening on iAssociate and I’ve just downloaded them.  So that will entertain me for the rest of the evening.

Z is not herself

I don’t miss listening to The Archers in the least, and I really, really don’t want to start again.  The memory of the lives of all those people whom I don’t care about, some of whom are quite annoying, makes me wonder why I retained the listening habit for so long – except, that it’s something to do while I’m getting dinner ready.  And listening to voices on the radio while I cook is something I like.  Music isn’t the same, and a spoken book isn’t the same.  And I liked Front Row, which followed it, and now I don’t think to switch that on.  Digital reception is poor in this house, and I have to keep the digital radio on a windowsill to use it at all, and I’m not going to keep unplugging it and taking it back and forth.  It’s not worth buying a second when I hardly ever use it, because of the bad reception and because I still often can’t find a spoken programme I want to listen to other than Radio 4.

This evening, I had a break while waiting for the food to finish cooking, and saw that The Culture Show was halfway through on BBC2 and came in and switched it on.  First there was a photographer, who mostly seemed to be detaching his emotions for his job as a photographic journalist who saw and recorded terrible things.  Then there was a bloke with a thing about whales.  The importance of whales in art, history and literature was rather wildly overstated (Genesis, where a whale isn’t actually mentioned, Moby Dick and some scrimshaw haven’t really made them the iconic subject over the centuries he and his interviewer tried to paint them) and then pictures of whaling ships came on.  I never quite got what the interviewee had done to be interviewed about, but by this point I didn’t care. The television was switched off and won’t be turned on again tonight.  Agreed, I’m a bad tempered old bat, but I don’t think some entertainment at 7.30 is an unreasonable hope.  Of course, the rest of the programme might have been splendid, but it wasn’t entertaining.

I mislaid the tv remote control a few weeks ago, so I have to turn it on and off by the buttons at the back.  It’s rather good really, it means that you only bother to turn it on for something you really want to watch (apart from this evening, and I soon was reminded of my mistake).  Next month I will buy a tv licence, and in the summer I shall send it back again for a refund – unless the free licence concession for over 75s has been revoked without my noticing.  If it weren’t for that, I seriously doubt whether I’d bother having a television at all.  I don’t suppose the quality has suddenly got markedly worse, I think it’s me.  I’ve seen enough and I’ve read enough.  By broadening my musical taste considerably, I’m still engaged with listening to it, and I also like listening to voices (not ones inside my head, darlings, do bear with me) but I that’s about it.  And now I’ve gone off alcohol, it seems to be the last straw.  I’m no longer the person I used to be.