With that in mind, I felt this would be an appropriate starter photo.
Showing posts with label no good reason. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no good reason. Show all posts
Monday, January 09, 2017
01/52 2017
Sigh. I finished a full year of once-a-week photos for a 52 Project blog of Jamie, said that I intended to do it again for 2017, then completely forgot to do the first week.
With that in mind, I felt this would be an appropriate starter photo.
With that in mind, I felt this would be an appropriate starter photo.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
If you were a parent you'd understand
One of the things that really irritated me as a childfree adult was being told that I could not possibly understand something - love, tiredness, forward planning, laundry, whatever - because I did not have a child.
As a parent, I'd like to reassure all childfree readers that there are only two things I "understand" now that I didn't before. These are:
1. The impulse to talk about poo. I've resisted the urge to post online about the contents of Jamie's nappies. His business is his business. On the other hand, as with all babies there are days when a particularly remarkable nappy really is the most interesting thing to have happened that day or when dealing with it without needing to nuke the site from orbit is truly an achievement, and at those times it is an effort to hold on to social proprieties.
2. The challenge of the nice cup of tea and a biscuit, an interesting combination of relaxation and stress. If you can pull it off, there's few things more restorative than a hot cuppa and a biscuit while the baby sleeps. But the tension is high, as one wrong move could wake the baby, resulting in a shortened nap, a screaming child, no biscuit and a cup of tea which, by the time the screams are quelled, has gone almost undrinkably cold. It's like the most incredibly mundane yet incredibly frustrating computer game ever.
As a parent, I'd like to reassure all childfree readers that there are only two things I "understand" now that I didn't before. These are:
1. The impulse to talk about poo. I've resisted the urge to post online about the contents of Jamie's nappies. His business is his business. On the other hand, as with all babies there are days when a particularly remarkable nappy really is the most interesting thing to have happened that day or when dealing with it without needing to nuke the site from orbit is truly an achievement, and at those times it is an effort to hold on to social proprieties.
2. The challenge of the nice cup of tea and a biscuit, an interesting combination of relaxation and stress. If you can pull it off, there's few things more restorative than a hot cuppa and a biscuit while the baby sleeps. But the tension is high, as one wrong move could wake the baby, resulting in a shortened nap, a screaming child, no biscuit and a cup of tea which, by the time the screams are quelled, has gone almost undrinkably cold. It's like the most incredibly mundane yet incredibly frustrating computer game ever.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Monday, September 21, 2015
An Update
In my last few posts, I talked about three major obstacles to the baby preparations.
One was the difficulties of getting assessed for a suitable wheelchair. After my last post, a number of people gave me details of companies and charities who had been useful to them. Sadly when I followed up these leads, some weren't able to help, and others were unhelpful by choice, showing me the chairs they wanted to sell rather than the chairs that would meet my needs, and calling it an assessment.
Thankfully, this turned out to be the easiest situation to resolve. The experiences with the "assessors" convinced me that I might as well ditch my fear that going into a mobility showroom would leave me prey to unscrupulous salespeople. I called a local showroom, explained my needs, and arranged an appointment. When I arrived, the salesman had several chairs lined up that did meet my specifications. After a bit more discussion and measuring, I was having a test ride, which included seeing if my favourite one would fit in the car. It did. The salesman then encouraged us to take our time, go home, have a think, and phone him on Monday if we wanted to buy it... and a brand-new one was delivered by him to our house at the end of that week.
I'm gradually getting used to it and I think it's going to meet my needs well.
There was Social Services, where "my" social worker had gone off sick less than three months into my pregnancy. The refusal of Warwickshire Social Services to transfer my case to a different social worker "because she'll be back soon" meant that I had no support at all until my pregnancy was past the half-way point, at which stage it was conceded that the Duty Social Worker team could help out with my case if they had time. I saw a Duty Social Worker at 26 weeks pregnant, but at the time of my last post, I wasn't confident that it had gone well.
At 32 weeks and with my assessment still waiting to be seen by the decision makers, my Health Visitor decided to see if she could intervene in any way. She was told that "my" original social worker was due back in the office any day and would definitely call her back as a matter of urgency. Except of course that this was every bit as much a lie as it had been every time I'd been fobbed off with it during the Spring.
Then at 33 weeks pregnant, for reasons it's probably best not to speculate on, I was officially reassigned to the proper caseload of the social worker who had been the Duty Social Worker who had seen me almost two months earlier. A few days later, I was given a date for my caesarean section which will be at about 39 weeks. I'm not sure if this deadline helped - at 35 weeks pregnant, with four weeks of pregnancy remaining, I think my assessment for additional support during pregnancy was very nearly ready to be submitted to the panel...
On the bright side, the Health Visitor and the no-longer-duty Social Worker are liaising directly now, and I think the midwife might be as well.
Which means I'm free to worry about the stairlift. At the time of my last post, after the delays caused by the absent social worker situation, we had sped through the assessment process thanks to a helpful and super-efficient OT and were awaiting a quote, which arrived, as it was supposed to, just before 28 weeks of pregnancy.
We signed, wrote a cheque for a deposit of over £2,000, and got it back to them next-day. According to the contract, this meant installation would happen within 6-8 weeks - so at the very latest, before 36 weeks of pregnancy (or "well before the end of September" for those of you who prefer a traditional calendar). It was cutting it fine, but it would be okay.
We were quite surprised to then be offered an installation date in the middle of October, or 39 weeks of pregnancy.
There were two problems with that.
One was that it was 3 weeks over the maximum 8 weeks promised in the contract, which really is not good enough when you are forking over five thousand pounds for essential equipment. I signed that contract on the understanding that my stairlift would be installed within the timeframe specified in the contract.
The other was that the date they were suggesting was the actual date for which my caesarean is booked.
After a lot of phone calls (which is always me phoning them, because their inability to stick to their own suggested timescales extends to calling back when they say they will), they have managed to rearrange for installation to happen in the first week of October. This is still breaching the contract - but I don't have the choice to make a big deal about that, because I need a stairlift in place before the baby gets here, and it is too late to get one from a different provider.
I am in my final month of pregnancy. I am supposed to be thinking nice, nurturing thoughts, and doing gentle exercises, and nesting. If I was at work and experiencing this kind of stress, I would be advised to start my maternity leave now. But there's no maternity leave from this situation.
One was the difficulties of getting assessed for a suitable wheelchair. After my last post, a number of people gave me details of companies and charities who had been useful to them. Sadly when I followed up these leads, some weren't able to help, and others were unhelpful by choice, showing me the chairs they wanted to sell rather than the chairs that would meet my needs, and calling it an assessment.
Thankfully, this turned out to be the easiest situation to resolve. The experiences with the "assessors" convinced me that I might as well ditch my fear that going into a mobility showroom would leave me prey to unscrupulous salespeople. I called a local showroom, explained my needs, and arranged an appointment. When I arrived, the salesman had several chairs lined up that did meet my specifications. After a bit more discussion and measuring, I was having a test ride, which included seeing if my favourite one would fit in the car. It did. The salesman then encouraged us to take our time, go home, have a think, and phone him on Monday if we wanted to buy it... and a brand-new one was delivered by him to our house at the end of that week.
I'm gradually getting used to it and I think it's going to meet my needs well.
There was Social Services, where "my" social worker had gone off sick less than three months into my pregnancy. The refusal of Warwickshire Social Services to transfer my case to a different social worker "because she'll be back soon" meant that I had no support at all until my pregnancy was past the half-way point, at which stage it was conceded that the Duty Social Worker team could help out with my case if they had time. I saw a Duty Social Worker at 26 weeks pregnant, but at the time of my last post, I wasn't confident that it had gone well.
At 32 weeks and with my assessment still waiting to be seen by the decision makers, my Health Visitor decided to see if she could intervene in any way. She was told that "my" original social worker was due back in the office any day and would definitely call her back as a matter of urgency. Except of course that this was every bit as much a lie as it had been every time I'd been fobbed off with it during the Spring.
Then at 33 weeks pregnant, for reasons it's probably best not to speculate on, I was officially reassigned to the proper caseload of the social worker who had been the Duty Social Worker who had seen me almost two months earlier. A few days later, I was given a date for my caesarean section which will be at about 39 weeks. I'm not sure if this deadline helped - at 35 weeks pregnant, with four weeks of pregnancy remaining, I think my assessment for additional support during pregnancy was very nearly ready to be submitted to the panel...
On the bright side, the Health Visitor and the no-longer-duty Social Worker are liaising directly now, and I think the midwife might be as well.
Which means I'm free to worry about the stairlift. At the time of my last post, after the delays caused by the absent social worker situation, we had sped through the assessment process thanks to a helpful and super-efficient OT and were awaiting a quote, which arrived, as it was supposed to, just before 28 weeks of pregnancy.
We signed, wrote a cheque for a deposit of over £2,000, and got it back to them next-day. According to the contract, this meant installation would happen within 6-8 weeks - so at the very latest, before 36 weeks of pregnancy (or "well before the end of September" for those of you who prefer a traditional calendar). It was cutting it fine, but it would be okay.
We were quite surprised to then be offered an installation date in the middle of October, or 39 weeks of pregnancy.
There were two problems with that.
One was that it was 3 weeks over the maximum 8 weeks promised in the contract, which really is not good enough when you are forking over five thousand pounds for essential equipment. I signed that contract on the understanding that my stairlift would be installed within the timeframe specified in the contract.
The other was that the date they were suggesting was the actual date for which my caesarean is booked.
After a lot of phone calls (which is always me phoning them, because their inability to stick to their own suggested timescales extends to calling back when they say they will), they have managed to rearrange for installation to happen in the first week of October. This is still breaching the contract - but I don't have the choice to make a big deal about that, because I need a stairlift in place before the baby gets here, and it is too late to get one from a different provider.
I am in my final month of pregnancy. I am supposed to be thinking nice, nurturing thoughts, and doing gentle exercises, and nesting. If I was at work and experiencing this kind of stress, I would be advised to start my maternity leave now. But there's no maternity leave from this situation.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Cake (picture-heavy)
For reasons too complicated to explain, I found myself committed to baking a cake for a friend in another country who isn't going to be here to eat it any time soon. The only relevant part of the backstory is that I was meant to make a cake some months ago and made a bloody great mess on the floor instead. It's almost like I got DLA for a reason.
Nevertheless.
Part One was done in advance. I found a recipe, of the sort that tells the cook to get an adult to help them with the oven, and went and bought the stuff I'd need.
I think eggs and butter were the only things I had in the house anyway, and I didn't have enough of either, so I purchased the whole recipe. Using mostly supermarket-own-brand ingredients this came to about £15. Admittedly I have a lot of stuff left over - flour, sugar, icing sugar, vanilla essence - but I'm really unlikely to use any of it. Even if we just add up the things that were entirely used up it comes to over £8. It would definitely have been cheaper, in monetary terms, to just buy a cake.
Nevertheless, again. This is not about eating cake. This is about making a cake.
Greasing the cake tin wasn’t too traumatic. Measuring ingredients was a bit okay if a little messy at points. Creaming the butter and sugar brought me back to that whole "DLA for a reason" thing. But that's okay, because the difference between making a cake and cooking a meal is that I can take as long as I like to make a cake, and it doesn't matter if it's the only thing I do today (I will now stop banging on about DLA. I'm just always worried, when I post about my biannual adventures in cookery, that someone's going to try and use it to report me).
Adding the eggs to the butter and sugar was… well it started okay and then I thought it looked a bit lumpy, but no matter how much I stirred the lumps wouldn’t go away, so I figured, it’s butter, it’ll have to melt when it cooks if nothing else, and pressed on, adding a tidge of vanilla essence, a tidge of milk, and the sifted cocoa and self-raising flour.
The resulting dough was tasty… uh, did I say tasty? I meant it looked tasty. Yes. Looked. Having no great cake-making expertise I did wonder whether it was meant to be dough. If it was meant to be batter then I’d done something really badly wrong at the measuring stage. But I was too messy to Google it, or to take pictures and ask Twitter. So I kept going.
Wrangling the wodge of dough from the mixing bowl was awkward, and then it kind of sat in a big sticky messy lump in the middle of the cake tin. It didn't really look like any kind of proto-cake so I sort of splatted it out a bit. Not squished it flat or anything, but made it a bit more circular and more evenly shaped. I probably should have taken a picture before it went into the oven, but it was already in the oven when I realised that, and even I know you're not allowed to keep opening it.
The time it took to bake was longer than the time I needed to find instructional videos on how to check a cake is done and how to get it out of the tin. I have a springform cake tin with a removable base, so getting the cake onto the cooling rack was remarkably easy. A couple of people have already expressed jealousy about my cake tin. Seriously, it cost less than the cake ingredients. If you enjoy baking, and are frustrated by normal tins, then just get one.
And lo! Cake! Properly baked, not dry, not burnt, not soggy!
There was, however, one small problem.
At just an inch and a half in height, the stage of the recipe that called for cutting the entire cake in half horizontally was going to be more of a challenge than this novice could handle. Happily, I'd been looking for a way to avoid that particular challenge anyway, so it didn't take me too long to decide that actually, I'd just cut the cake in half the easy way, and stack the halves into a semicircular cake.
I mixed up the filling and while that was chilling in the fridge, I had my lunch:
It was very tasty.
Finally, it was time to assemble the cake.
From this side it pretty much looks like chocolate mousse with cake somewhere in the middle...
... but from the other side it looks much more cakelike.
If I was doing it again, I would probably try and get a smaller cake tin. I also think that while the whole raspberries look good on the top, for inside the cake, making it a sandwich of chocolate filling on one side and raspberry jam on the other would work better than thick chocolate filling with whole raspberries added.
I have a great sense of accomplishment for having successfully made a cake. All things considered, though, I probably won't be doing it again. The cost of ingredients, the pain, the time, the cleanup, are just all too much for what's basically a pretty mediocre cake. In future I will continue to outsource all of my cake requirements to the lovely experts at Sweet As.
Nevertheless.
Part One was done in advance. I found a recipe, of the sort that tells the cook to get an adult to help them with the oven, and went and bought the stuff I'd need.
I think eggs and butter were the only things I had in the house anyway, and I didn't have enough of either, so I purchased the whole recipe. Using mostly supermarket-own-brand ingredients this came to about £15. Admittedly I have a lot of stuff left over - flour, sugar, icing sugar, vanilla essence - but I'm really unlikely to use any of it. Even if we just add up the things that were entirely used up it comes to over £8. It would definitely have been cheaper, in monetary terms, to just buy a cake.
Nevertheless, again. This is not about eating cake. This is about making a cake.
Greasing the cake tin wasn’t too traumatic. Measuring ingredients was a bit okay if a little messy at points. Creaming the butter and sugar brought me back to that whole "DLA for a reason" thing. But that's okay, because the difference between making a cake and cooking a meal is that I can take as long as I like to make a cake, and it doesn't matter if it's the only thing I do today (I will now stop banging on about DLA. I'm just always worried, when I post about my biannual adventures in cookery, that someone's going to try and use it to report me).
Adding the eggs to the butter and sugar was… well it started okay and then I thought it looked a bit lumpy, but no matter how much I stirred the lumps wouldn’t go away, so I figured, it’s butter, it’ll have to melt when it cooks if nothing else, and pressed on, adding a tidge of vanilla essence, a tidge of milk, and the sifted cocoa and self-raising flour.
The resulting dough was tasty… uh, did I say tasty? I meant it looked tasty. Yes. Looked. Having no great cake-making expertise I did wonder whether it was meant to be dough. If it was meant to be batter then I’d done something really badly wrong at the measuring stage. But I was too messy to Google it, or to take pictures and ask Twitter. So I kept going.
Wrangling the wodge of dough from the mixing bowl was awkward, and then it kind of sat in a big sticky messy lump in the middle of the cake tin. It didn't really look like any kind of proto-cake so I sort of splatted it out a bit. Not squished it flat or anything, but made it a bit more circular and more evenly shaped. I probably should have taken a picture before it went into the oven, but it was already in the oven when I realised that, and even I know you're not allowed to keep opening it.
The time it took to bake was longer than the time I needed to find instructional videos on how to check a cake is done and how to get it out of the tin. I have a springform cake tin with a removable base, so getting the cake onto the cooling rack was remarkably easy. A couple of people have already expressed jealousy about my cake tin. Seriously, it cost less than the cake ingredients. If you enjoy baking, and are frustrated by normal tins, then just get one.
And lo! Cake! Properly baked, not dry, not burnt, not soggy!
There was, however, one small problem.
At just an inch and a half in height, the stage of the recipe that called for cutting the entire cake in half horizontally was going to be more of a challenge than this novice could handle. Happily, I'd been looking for a way to avoid that particular challenge anyway, so it didn't take me too long to decide that actually, I'd just cut the cake in half the easy way, and stack the halves into a semicircular cake.
I mixed up the filling and while that was chilling in the fridge, I had my lunch:
It was very tasty.
Finally, it was time to assemble the cake.
From this side it pretty much looks like chocolate mousse with cake somewhere in the middle...
... but from the other side it looks much more cakelike.
If I was doing it again, I would probably try and get a smaller cake tin. I also think that while the whole raspberries look good on the top, for inside the cake, making it a sandwich of chocolate filling on one side and raspberry jam on the other would work better than thick chocolate filling with whole raspberries added.
I have a great sense of accomplishment for having successfully made a cake. All things considered, though, I probably won't be doing it again. The cost of ingredients, the pain, the time, the cleanup, are just all too much for what's basically a pretty mediocre cake. In future I will continue to outsource all of my cake requirements to the lovely experts at Sweet As.
Monday, May 14, 2012
This is a technical document
Well, of course, it isn't, but I could put words like Cisco and network and voice over internet protocol all over it, and then it would look a bit like a technical document. It wouldn't make any sense, but I can't imagine who'd notice.
You see, ladies and gentlemen, there have been complaints. A particular reader is being a Bad Example To The Younger Generation by reading my blog at work, and apparently I must post more often. It's okay, English is unlikely to be the first language of anyone peeking over his shoulder. Yes, hello you. :)
There now follows a diagram. This proves the technical nature of this document which is entirely work related.
Look, I'm sorry. I mean to write more. I also mean to not just write about disability. I want to write more about my life and what I'm doing, but things divide into two groups:
Today, I did some grocery shopping online. The best bit of doing online shopping when your brain doesn't work the way it's supposed to, is that when the shopping arrives, you've forgotten what you ordered. It's as if some kind of benevolent pixie sent you £70 of delicious food, and there isn't a single item you don't like!
I also had my laundry done. Yes, that's right - don't tell any of the women in my family, but I use a laundry service for my towels and bedlinen. I am a slattern who does not do her own housework. Or possibly a person who prefers not to injure herself wrestling large, wet, heavy pieces of cloth. Either way, in the morning the nice man picks up a sports bag of smelly linen from my house and in the evening he brings it back, fresh, clean, dry, and neatly folded.
I'm struggling with the paperwork for my assistants at the moment - making sure they get paid, and the monitoring that Social Services conduct to be sure I am using the money properly. I set up my systems really well, and my more lucid self has written out clear instructions for how to do each stage so that when I am not very well, I can still get things done. The problem at the moment is I quite literally don't know what day it is. I have "today" and "yesterday". All other days are confused together in a big tangle. So the timesheets and invoices got in a muddle and weren't submitted at the proper times... I think I've unpicked it, though.
Steve and I have been married for nearly a year and we are wondering what we should do for our anniversary. He's been able to book a little bit of time off work and we're looking at options. We have all these ideas - we'd love to go back to the Eden Project, or alternatively there are a few places in London we'd like to visit, for instance the Science Museum - but Steve is so tired out from work, I think he could sleep for a fortnight. We could just stay home and try to put together our wedding photo album. Right now we have thousands of photographs backed up to multiple storage devices, but unless you count shoving a USB stick into a digital photo frame, no album. There are also several guests who we have no pictures of, which is a bit sad.
The book I'm reading at the moment is Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. I have read it many times - I first picked it up in high school. It's a bit of escapism, I suppose. I have the DVD as well, but I think the DVD won't make much sense to people who haven't read the book because it misses out an awful lot of backstory and historical detail. Some of the "historical" detail is inaccurate but then it is a fiction novel.
I don't know. What else? What do you want to know?
Following technical complaint about the diagram above: (written by evilstevie)
This diagram clearly only holds true for a relatively small number of passwords - above a certain point you are either some kind of memory-whizz or use a password-manager program to ensure the right password goes in the right box. This has to be the case as most applications of passwords also have something in place to prevent brute-force guessing of passwords, either a counter or timer (or in some cool applications, both) to make it difficult or impossible for you to try more than a few passwords. At a certain point on the graph you simply get a flat-line as you can't enter any more wrong passwords and you stop making new ones or come up with a new way of dealing with passwords. Also, I'd like to add that Batsgirl's clearly been around me too much when she considers VOIP usable in everyday conversation or blogging...
You see, ladies and gentlemen, there have been complaints. A particular reader is being a Bad Example To The Younger Generation by reading my blog at work, and apparently I must post more often. It's okay, English is unlikely to be the first language of anyone peeking over his shoulder. Yes, hello you. :)
There now follows a diagram. This proves the technical nature of this document which is entirely work related.
Look, I'm sorry. I mean to write more. I also mean to not just write about disability. I want to write more about my life and what I'm doing, but things divide into two groups:
- Things which are too boring and inconsequential to write about.
- Things which are quite interesting and I want to write about, but after doing the things, I'm too tired to write about the things until later.
Today, I did some grocery shopping online. The best bit of doing online shopping when your brain doesn't work the way it's supposed to, is that when the shopping arrives, you've forgotten what you ordered. It's as if some kind of benevolent pixie sent you £70 of delicious food, and there isn't a single item you don't like!
I also had my laundry done. Yes, that's right - don't tell any of the women in my family, but I use a laundry service for my towels and bedlinen. I am a slattern who does not do her own housework. Or possibly a person who prefers not to injure herself wrestling large, wet, heavy pieces of cloth. Either way, in the morning the nice man picks up a sports bag of smelly linen from my house and in the evening he brings it back, fresh, clean, dry, and neatly folded.
I'm struggling with the paperwork for my assistants at the moment - making sure they get paid, and the monitoring that Social Services conduct to be sure I am using the money properly. I set up my systems really well, and my more lucid self has written out clear instructions for how to do each stage so that when I am not very well, I can still get things done. The problem at the moment is I quite literally don't know what day it is. I have "today" and "yesterday". All other days are confused together in a big tangle. So the timesheets and invoices got in a muddle and weren't submitted at the proper times... I think I've unpicked it, though.
Steve and I have been married for nearly a year and we are wondering what we should do for our anniversary. He's been able to book a little bit of time off work and we're looking at options. We have all these ideas - we'd love to go back to the Eden Project, or alternatively there are a few places in London we'd like to visit, for instance the Science Museum - but Steve is so tired out from work, I think he could sleep for a fortnight. We could just stay home and try to put together our wedding photo album. Right now we have thousands of photographs backed up to multiple storage devices, but unless you count shoving a USB stick into a digital photo frame, no album. There are also several guests who we have no pictures of, which is a bit sad.
The book I'm reading at the moment is Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. I have read it many times - I first picked it up in high school. It's a bit of escapism, I suppose. I have the DVD as well, but I think the DVD won't make much sense to people who haven't read the book because it misses out an awful lot of backstory and historical detail. Some of the "historical" detail is inaccurate but then it is a fiction novel.
I don't know. What else? What do you want to know?
Following technical complaint about the diagram above: (written by evilstevie)
This diagram clearly only holds true for a relatively small number of passwords - above a certain point you are either some kind of memory-whizz or use a password-manager program to ensure the right password goes in the right box. This has to be the case as most applications of passwords also have something in place to prevent brute-force guessing of passwords, either a counter or timer (or in some cool applications, both) to make it difficult or impossible for you to try more than a few passwords. At a certain point on the graph you simply get a flat-line as you can't enter any more wrong passwords and you stop making new ones or come up with a new way of dealing with passwords. Also, I'd like to add that Batsgirl's clearly been around me too much when she considers VOIP usable in everyday conversation or blogging...
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Inaccessible Accessibility
I am, and have been for some years, a holder of a Blue Badge. The Blue Badge is a wonderful thing for access. My badge is up for renewal in a couple of months, and Warwickshire County Council have very helpfully (credit where it's due) sent me a renewal form and some guidelines.
They need proof of:
So far no problem.
BUT!
They don't want the responsibility of handling original documents. They want me to send certified copies.
Okay, that's fairly sensible too. I prefer to keep my original documents in my own posession and I appreciate the effort to reduce the risk of losing them.
According to most of the UK, a certified copy is a photocopy of a document that has been verified as being true by a person who holds a certain position of responsibility. A doctor, a policeman, an MP, a civil servant, you get the idea. The Jobcentre made a certified copy of my marriage certificate when I went in to change my name. Or, that proud institution the Post Office will make certified copies of up to three documents for the fairly reasonable sum of £7.15 as part of their passport and identity services.
These certified copies are good enough for most institutions and can be used for opening bank accounts or getting mortgages, but apparently they're not good enough for Warwickshire County Council's Blue Badge scheme. Warwickshire County Council insist that the certified copies must be made by someone who not only fits the usual criteria, but also knows me personally and is not a relative.
(Amusingly, however, I can self-certify my own photograph for the badge as a "true likeness" without it having to be corroborated by anyone.)
I couldn't quite believe it and phoned them to check. The conversation went a little bit like this:
(Me): I'm a blue badge holder. I don't drive. I'm written up as "socially isolated" on my care plan. I don't know that many non-relatives. Can I bring in my original documents to your offices and wait while you copy them?
Only if you know someone here who can confirm that you are who you say you are.
Oh. No, I don't. Well, can I send normal certified copies from the Post Office?
Do they know you personally at the Post Office?
No, but they do proper legally acceptable Certified Copies...
They have to actually know you and be able to confirm that you are who you say you are. We've had to introduce these measures to combat fraud.
But you seem to have made it difficult for precisely the people who the scheme is aimed at! The reason I don't know people is because it's difficult for me to get out and about!
I can't discuss policy. There must be someone. Your best bet is someone who owns a local business. Do they know you at the local shop?
No, they don't know me at the local shop, because I'm a blue badge holder and as such I don't walk to the shop.
Or your bank?
I bank online. I shop online. I work online. I do most things online, because it's really difficult for me to get out and about and that is why I have a blue badge!
If you're working, how about your boss?
I am self-employed. I don't have a boss and I doubt you'd let me self-certify.
Anyone you know through work who runs their business?
Clients? Some of them would be eligible, but most of them have never met me, because I work online, what with the whole being eligible for a blue badge because it's difficult for me to get around issue. They only know me on email and phone calls.
But they know that you're you - they can do it!
May I ask you a question? Imagine you have a business. Imagine you try to project a professional image to your clients of being capable and self-sufficient. Would you feel comfortable placing yourself in a position of need? Giving one of them your disability benefits confirmation letter to thoroughly examine?
er... I see the problem but it looks like that's what you're going to have to do.
Warwickshire County Council, ladies and gentlemen. Recommending that I go whimpering to my clients. Advising me that I am obliged to do this in order to obtain an access tool. Refusing to accept the perfectly accessible and inexpensive identity-checking service offered by the Post Office. Creating additional barriers. Well done, boys and girls.
There is a happy ending. Another disabled person is helping me out. That doesn't make Warwickshire County Council's attitude acceptable.
Now, to take a deep breath and try to rewrite this post in a less ranty form, in the hope that explaining their error to Warwickshire County Council might lead them to change things in future.
They need proof of:
- My name, in other words my marriage certificate.
- My address, in other words my council tax bill.
- and my eligibility, in other words my letter confirming my award of Disability Living Allowance including the High Rate Mobility component.
So far no problem.
BUT!
They don't want the responsibility of handling original documents. They want me to send certified copies.
Okay, that's fairly sensible too. I prefer to keep my original documents in my own posession and I appreciate the effort to reduce the risk of losing them.
According to most of the UK, a certified copy is a photocopy of a document that has been verified as being true by a person who holds a certain position of responsibility. A doctor, a policeman, an MP, a civil servant, you get the idea. The Jobcentre made a certified copy of my marriage certificate when I went in to change my name. Or, that proud institution the Post Office will make certified copies of up to three documents for the fairly reasonable sum of £7.15 as part of their passport and identity services.
These certified copies are good enough for most institutions and can be used for opening bank accounts or getting mortgages, but apparently they're not good enough for Warwickshire County Council's Blue Badge scheme. Warwickshire County Council insist that the certified copies must be made by someone who not only fits the usual criteria, but also knows me personally and is not a relative.
(Amusingly, however, I can self-certify my own photograph for the badge as a "true likeness" without it having to be corroborated by anyone.)
I couldn't quite believe it and phoned them to check. The conversation went a little bit like this:
(Me): I'm a blue badge holder. I don't drive. I'm written up as "socially isolated" on my care plan. I don't know that many non-relatives. Can I bring in my original documents to your offices and wait while you copy them?
Only if you know someone here who can confirm that you are who you say you are.
Oh. No, I don't. Well, can I send normal certified copies from the Post Office?
Do they know you personally at the Post Office?
No, but they do proper legally acceptable Certified Copies...
They have to actually know you and be able to confirm that you are who you say you are. We've had to introduce these measures to combat fraud.
But you seem to have made it difficult for precisely the people who the scheme is aimed at! The reason I don't know people is because it's difficult for me to get out and about!
I can't discuss policy. There must be someone. Your best bet is someone who owns a local business. Do they know you at the local shop?
No, they don't know me at the local shop, because I'm a blue badge holder and as such I don't walk to the shop.
Or your bank?
I bank online. I shop online. I work online. I do most things online, because it's really difficult for me to get out and about and that is why I have a blue badge!
If you're working, how about your boss?
I am self-employed. I don't have a boss and I doubt you'd let me self-certify.
Anyone you know through work who runs their business?
Clients? Some of them would be eligible, but most of them have never met me, because I work online, what with the whole being eligible for a blue badge because it's difficult for me to get around issue. They only know me on email and phone calls.
But they know that you're you - they can do it!
May I ask you a question? Imagine you have a business. Imagine you try to project a professional image to your clients of being capable and self-sufficient. Would you feel comfortable placing yourself in a position of need? Giving one of them your disability benefits confirmation letter to thoroughly examine?
er... I see the problem but it looks like that's what you're going to have to do.
Warwickshire County Council, ladies and gentlemen. Recommending that I go whimpering to my clients. Advising me that I am obliged to do this in order to obtain an access tool. Refusing to accept the perfectly accessible and inexpensive identity-checking service offered by the Post Office. Creating additional barriers. Well done, boys and girls.
There is a happy ending. Another disabled person is helping me out. That doesn't make Warwickshire County Council's attitude acceptable.
Now, to take a deep breath and try to rewrite this post in a less ranty form, in the hope that explaining their error to Warwickshire County Council might lead them to change things in future.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Healthy Eating With Mary
Hello everybody. I feel that I really should be doing some sort of New Year post, and maybe I'll get to that later, but today, we're going to talk about Healthy Eating, which is very important after the excesses of the holiday period.
This... is a Banana.
A banana is a wonderful fruit, with lots of lovely vitamins, and counts as one of your five-a-day.
However, while the banana is delicious when eaten fresh and unaugmented, the essence of cooking is to improve upon the raw materials by combining them while retaining the goodness of the basic ingredients.
For this reason, I have added a few chocolate buttons.
You will notice that the chocolate buttons in the picture are from Montezumas. By using these chocolate buttons I am supporting ethically-trading British artisans, so really this is a contribution to both the planet and the economy - quite apart from the well-known virtues of quality cocoa including its antioxidant properties and its ability to trigger a release of your body's natural endorphins.
However, we again face the problem of core ingredients on their own being boring so I have decided to add a secondary chocolate element to complement the buttons - Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream.
My next addition provides much-needed calcium as well as offsetting the cocoa level of the dish. Yes, it's squirty cream.
My personal belief is that the satisfaction gained from a good squirt is a restorative to the soul, making this a dish with psychological benefits in addition to the nutritional aspects already discussed.
Finally, a drizzle of chocolate sauce adds aesthetic appeal and pulls the whole dish together.
I feel much healthier now.
(This blog post completed before the inevitable sugar crash. Apologies for typos.)
This... is a Banana.
A banana is a wonderful fruit, with lots of lovely vitamins, and counts as one of your five-a-day.
However, while the banana is delicious when eaten fresh and unaugmented, the essence of cooking is to improve upon the raw materials by combining them while retaining the goodness of the basic ingredients.
For this reason, I have added a few chocolate buttons.
You will notice that the chocolate buttons in the picture are from Montezumas. By using these chocolate buttons I am supporting ethically-trading British artisans, so really this is a contribution to both the planet and the economy - quite apart from the well-known virtues of quality cocoa including its antioxidant properties and its ability to trigger a release of your body's natural endorphins.
However, we again face the problem of core ingredients on their own being boring so I have decided to add a secondary chocolate element to complement the buttons - Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream.
My next addition provides much-needed calcium as well as offsetting the cocoa level of the dish. Yes, it's squirty cream.
My personal belief is that the satisfaction gained from a good squirt is a restorative to the soul, making this a dish with psychological benefits in addition to the nutritional aspects already discussed.
Finally, a drizzle of chocolate sauce adds aesthetic appeal and pulls the whole dish together.
I feel much healthier now.
(This blog post completed before the inevitable sugar crash. Apologies for typos.)
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Oh but it's easy!
Anyone who's ever so much as hovered on the fringes of wedding planning will have seen one of these articles. Shocking rise in the cost of the average wedding, picture of tasteless pink bride standing next to cake the size of a respectable starter home, reassurance that it doesn't have to be that way, followed by awesome photographs of a stunning wedding and reception that, according to the bride (I'm afraid it is usually the bride) involved, cost less than £500 and a marvellous day was had by all.
Great! you think, and start reading through for hints and tips. And then you start to realise that what she actually means is that the wedding expenses that were significant enough to be counted only cost her and her husband £500, and she either hasn't realised the cash value of other people's contributions, or she's choosing not to count them in a bid to gain moral high ground on the basis of frugality.
You realise that the wedding was conducted by Uncle John the vicar, who was able to waive all fees from venue hire to bell ringers, and jolly the Church Ladies into making that week's floral decorations in the preferred wedding colours.
You find that the dress (normal shop price: about £800) was made by the bride's ex-housemate who just happens to be a wedding dress designer/seamstress, that the fabulous cake (normal shop price: about £400) was donated by Auntie Linda who just happens to be a baker and decorator of wedding cakes, and that the food (normal shop price about £20 per head) is being provided free of charge by the groom's parents who just happen to own a catering business. A cousin who's on a hairdressing course, an uncle with a posh or classic car, and a friend-of-a-friend who's just setting up in the DJ business are optional.
You are told that "it's easy" to make your own invitations and place cards and so on for a modest outlay of about £50. Assuming, of course, that you have already invested several hundred pounds in a decent trimmer and a selection of corner punches, a proper craft knife and cutting board, a decent printer, endless accessories like glue dots, pritt stick, and backing card - and assuming that you possess a certain degree of design aptitude.
Next you discover that the amazing photos were taken by a professional. The fact that a decent professional photographer will often charge a three or even four-figure sum for shooting a wedding isn't mentioned - the photographer was either another person the couple just happened to know who owed them a massive favour, or he was hired by the families as a gift.
Yes, it turns out that the way to have a wonderful wedding on a budget is to be surrounded by generous, interested family and friends who are already (a) professionals in wedding-related industries, (b) incredibly creative, and/or (c) prepared to spend their own money so that you don't have to. Easy! Erm...
We're spending money on professionals to take care of certain aspects of our wedding. This is not a moral issue.
We're definitely looking forward to getting married, and to having the party with our nearest and dearest, but I think we'll also be glad to escape from the insane and contradictory world of wedding planning.
Great! you think, and start reading through for hints and tips. And then you start to realise that what she actually means is that the wedding expenses that were significant enough to be counted only cost her and her husband £500, and she either hasn't realised the cash value of other people's contributions, or she's choosing not to count them in a bid to gain moral high ground on the basis of frugality.
You realise that the wedding was conducted by Uncle John the vicar, who was able to waive all fees from venue hire to bell ringers, and jolly the Church Ladies into making that week's floral decorations in the preferred wedding colours.
You find that the dress (normal shop price: about £800) was made by the bride's ex-housemate who just happens to be a wedding dress designer/seamstress, that the fabulous cake (normal shop price: about £400) was donated by Auntie Linda who just happens to be a baker and decorator of wedding cakes, and that the food (normal shop price about £20 per head) is being provided free of charge by the groom's parents who just happen to own a catering business. A cousin who's on a hairdressing course, an uncle with a posh or classic car, and a friend-of-a-friend who's just setting up in the DJ business are optional.
You are told that "it's easy" to make your own invitations and place cards and so on for a modest outlay of about £50. Assuming, of course, that you have already invested several hundred pounds in a decent trimmer and a selection of corner punches, a proper craft knife and cutting board, a decent printer, endless accessories like glue dots, pritt stick, and backing card - and assuming that you possess a certain degree of design aptitude.
Next you discover that the amazing photos were taken by a professional. The fact that a decent professional photographer will often charge a three or even four-figure sum for shooting a wedding isn't mentioned - the photographer was either another person the couple just happened to know who owed them a massive favour, or he was hired by the families as a gift.
Yes, it turns out that the way to have a wonderful wedding on a budget is to be surrounded by generous, interested family and friends who are already (a) professionals in wedding-related industries, (b) incredibly creative, and/or (c) prepared to spend their own money so that you don't have to. Easy! Erm...
We're spending money on professionals to take care of certain aspects of our wedding. This is not a moral issue.
We're definitely looking forward to getting married, and to having the party with our nearest and dearest, but I think we'll also be glad to escape from the insane and contradictory world of wedding planning.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Brave vs Stupid
IF you have a painful injury or condition which manifests itself by way of inflammation...
... and IF you see a doctor and the doctor refers you to physiotherapy and advises you to take ibuprofen (a well-used anti-inflammatory medication) while waiting for the physiotherapy appointment.
Take the freaking ibuprofen already.
It is not brave to struggle along without medication.
You will not get a Brave Little Soldier prize for enduring unnecessary pain.
Pain =/= moral superiority.
If you are worried that taking ibuprofen will "mask the pain" and that this will mean you do more than you should and cause yourself more damage... stop when you think it's sensible, rather than waiting until you are experiencing "oh gosh I'm damaging myself further" levels of pain.
It's a bit like how in order to wake up and function at 7am, you go to bed at 11pm, even though you could stay up longer. You don't insist on waiting until you physically cannot keep your eyes open any more or on going without sleep altogether because you think sleep will "mask" your tiredness.
Yes, pain is the body's alarm system to tell you something's not right.
You've acted on that warning by seeing the doctor and getting the physio referral. Enduring further pain is like leaving a burglar alarm blaring even after the thieves have left the scene and the police are on their way - upsetting and pointless.
It is not clever to refuse to even try your doctor's suggestion.
If you really feel you must not and will not take the medication the doctor tells you to, it is ridiculous to neglect to tell your doctor that you are ignoring his/her advice.
Yes, the over-the-counter box says that if symptoms persist you should consult your doctor for proper medical advice.
You already consulted your doctor and were advised to take ibuprofen - that IS proper medical advice.
Yes, long-term use of NSAIDs including ibuprofen can lead to stomach problems.
No, a few weeks until your physiotherapy appointment does not count as "long term".
And finally, if you must be this much of an idiot, don't expect me to be impressed when you tell me!
I'm pretty certain that the person this refers to doesn't read this blog. But I really needed to get it off my chest, and it wasn't possible at the time.
... and IF you see a doctor and the doctor refers you to physiotherapy and advises you to take ibuprofen (a well-used anti-inflammatory medication) while waiting for the physiotherapy appointment.
Take the freaking ibuprofen already.
It is not brave to struggle along without medication.
You will not get a Brave Little Soldier prize for enduring unnecessary pain.
Pain =/= moral superiority.
If you are worried that taking ibuprofen will "mask the pain" and that this will mean you do more than you should and cause yourself more damage... stop when you think it's sensible, rather than waiting until you are experiencing "oh gosh I'm damaging myself further" levels of pain.
It's a bit like how in order to wake up and function at 7am, you go to bed at 11pm, even though you could stay up longer. You don't insist on waiting until you physically cannot keep your eyes open any more or on going without sleep altogether because you think sleep will "mask" your tiredness.
Yes, pain is the body's alarm system to tell you something's not right.
You've acted on that warning by seeing the doctor and getting the physio referral. Enduring further pain is like leaving a burglar alarm blaring even after the thieves have left the scene and the police are on their way - upsetting and pointless.
It is not clever to refuse to even try your doctor's suggestion.
If you really feel you must not and will not take the medication the doctor tells you to, it is ridiculous to neglect to tell your doctor that you are ignoring his/her advice.
Yes, the over-the-counter box says that if symptoms persist you should consult your doctor for proper medical advice.
You already consulted your doctor and were advised to take ibuprofen - that IS proper medical advice.
Yes, long-term use of NSAIDs including ibuprofen can lead to stomach problems.
No, a few weeks until your physiotherapy appointment does not count as "long term".
And finally, if you must be this much of an idiot, don't expect me to be impressed when you tell me!
I'm pretty certain that the person this refers to doesn't read this blog. But I really needed to get it off my chest, and it wasn't possible at the time.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Time is ticking
The wedding is less than three months away. I am oscillating between
(a) Everything is absolutely fine and well in hand. The venue and registrar are both completely booked and paid for so a wedding will definitely happen. Our families have had Save-The-Dates and some have booked hotel rooms so guests will be there even though the proper invitations haven't gone out yet. We have the rings, my dress, and his suit. The DIY projects are on schedule for completion within the next month. The vendors are all booked, deposits are placed, timescales are sensible, and this whole thing should come off without any difficulties at all.
and
(b) PANIC! TOO LITTLE TIME!! TOO MUCH STILL TO DO!!! EVER-DECREASING TIME UNTIL W-DAY!!!! HOW THE SHUDDERING F&%K ARE WE GOING TO GET EVERYTHING SORTED OUT BY THEN?!?!?!?!?!
(a) Everything is absolutely fine and well in hand. The venue and registrar are both completely booked and paid for so a wedding will definitely happen. Our families have had Save-The-Dates and some have booked hotel rooms so guests will be there even though the proper invitations haven't gone out yet. We have the rings, my dress, and his suit. The DIY projects are on schedule for completion within the next month. The vendors are all booked, deposits are placed, timescales are sensible, and this whole thing should come off without any difficulties at all.
and
(b) PANIC! TOO LITTLE TIME!! TOO MUCH STILL TO DO!!! EVER-DECREASING TIME UNTIL W-DAY!!!! HOW THE SHUDDERING F&%K ARE WE GOING TO GET EVERYTHING SORTED OUT BY THEN?!?!?!?!?!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Ugh!
Over the last few months I've been hanging around on a couple of bridal/weddingy forums.
For very good reasons, it's not the Done Thing to out and out criticise other people's wedding choices.
It's acceptable to offer constructive input when asked, and to show respectful interest in the different customs and traditions being observed. That's a good thing. When someone is trying to decide between bows and floral swags to decorate the ends of the pews in their church, it's a good time to offer any experience of those products, but it's not the time to spark a fundamentalist religious debate about whether they should be getting married in a church at all. Tolerance is important in a community and it's great that different people, in different countries, having very different weddings, can all support each other.
This, however, is not a community. This Is My Blog, just like it says at the top of the page, which means it's not inappropriate for me to voice my opinions, and this has been bubbling up inside me for months now. In the interests of civility, I must stress that I recognise that different people have different tastes and if you want any of this stuff at your wedding, you go ahead, it's your wedding. If you are planning a wedding, or you just had one, you may prefer not to read any further. This is your fair warning: you may be offended.
But at last, I must say that I find the following things hideously tacky.
Ohhhhhh, that feels better.
For very good reasons, it's not the Done Thing to out and out criticise other people's wedding choices.
It's acceptable to offer constructive input when asked, and to show respectful interest in the different customs and traditions being observed. That's a good thing. When someone is trying to decide between bows and floral swags to decorate the ends of the pews in their church, it's a good time to offer any experience of those products, but it's not the time to spark a fundamentalist religious debate about whether they should be getting married in a church at all. Tolerance is important in a community and it's great that different people, in different countries, having very different weddings, can all support each other.
This, however, is not a community. This Is My Blog, just like it says at the top of the page, which means it's not inappropriate for me to voice my opinions, and this has been bubbling up inside me for months now. In the interests of civility, I must stress that I recognise that different people have different tastes and if you want any of this stuff at your wedding, you go ahead, it's your wedding. If you are planning a wedding, or you just had one, you may prefer not to read any further. This is your fair warning: you may be offended.
But at last, I must say that I find the following things hideously tacky.
- White hoodies with diamante transfers saying “Bride” or “Maid of Honor”. (American spelling intentional.) Yes, while getting ready for your wedding it's a good idea to wear something warm and comfortable that can absorb any spills. It's good to wear something that is fully front-fastening so it can be removed without disturbing your hair and makeup. But white with diamante? My dear, you will get enough attention today once you're in the dress. Be content.
- Flip-flops with soles that print “Just” and “Married” as you walk along wet sand. My PA spotted these in a craft store and proposed them as the winner of that store's Wedding Tat collection. And believe me, they had some tat.
- Hen parties with “naughty” games and gifts. Well done, it's a (whatever) shaped like a penis. It's not comical, it's not erotic, and the faint air of desperation is unsettling. Lingerie and sex toys can be great, but I can't imagine there's anyone who's actually turned on by pink plastic fluffy handcuffs, or anything with a picture of a cat and “Sex Kitten!” emblazoned across the front.
- Music on the wedding website. Internet access has reached a point where even your parents have it, so a wedding website is no longer necessarily a celebration of self-obsession viewable only by other geeks who aren't invited to the wedding anyway. But automatically playing music is a step in the wrong direction, as are hearts falling across the screen, or anything that won't properly load onto the smartphone of a guest who's got lost on the way to the venue.
- Vistaprint overdose. On the one hand, Vistaprint do a very good line in affordable, fuss-free printing that can be invaluable for things like invitations and RSVP cards. On the other hand, just because they can put your picture on more or less anything, doesn't necessarily mean it's a good idea. The overdosing idea also applies to people who went to a venue dresser for a few flowers/balloons/table decorations, and ended up ordering a twenty-foot-tall inflatable Bride and Groom in the belief that these would somehow look appropriate outside their elegant, classy venue.
- Pretending to be something you're not. This covers people getting married in churches who don't believe in God, people getting married in libraries who don't read, people who order glass carriages and aren't princesses (Kate Middleton got that bit spot-on), and people who order fancy formal meals that they're not sure how to eat. You make some pretty hefty promises on your wedding day - make them as yourselves.
Ohhhhhh, that feels better.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Wedding Of The Year
Please don't hate me for bringing up the Prince William/Kate Middleton/engagement thing. Yes, I know, it's already hideously overexposed. Yes, I know, you're sick of hearing about it. I'm sorry.
If it helps, this post isn't about them as such. If I wasn't in the middle of wedding planning myself, then the entirety of my response to the news of their engagement would consist of "oh, that's nice for them," and wouldn't warrant a tweet let alone a blog post.
However I have been nurturing a Bridal Brain since February, so my initial response was "oh, that's nice for them... hang on! Spring or Summer 2011?!? AIEEAAAAGH!!!" Ever since the drive home from Wales back in February, Steve and I have been planning for Spring/Summer 2011 (we've settled on a date in May) and now I am having irrational fears of our wedding being upstaged, sidelined, downplayed, faded out and all sorts of other directional diminishment.
A couple of times I very nearly tweeted "if they steal our date, I'll bloody well kill them," but recent events mean that even though I would only mean this in the figurative sense, and even though it should be apparent that someone with my physical attributes poses very little threat to a healthy Forces-trained male even without a constant bodyguard presence, it would still be a bloody stupid thing to say. So instead I went with "If they pick our wedding date, I'll... I'll... I'll be quite annoyed #IAmNotBraveEnoughToBeSpartacus" and felt like an enormous coward.
I mean, it's bad enough to end up sharing your wedding day with a major sporting event (Wimbledon, World Cup, Test Match Cricket, whatever) that your guests are going to be sneakily trying to keep track of. To clash with the hype of a major royal wedding... it doesn't bear thinking about!
The biggest problem is that, for obvious reasons, I have to spend a lot of time resting, and if I can't sleep, I tend to daydream, and my daydreams aren't always kind to me. This opened my brain to the horrific possibility that if they get married in, say, March, and they have, for the sake of argument, a pirate theme to entertain the kids who are attending, then when people come to our wedding in May and see all the pirate party bags and whatnot, then even though we bought that stuff in summer 2010, it'll look like we're trying to emulate them. Same goes for music, readings, colour schemes, dress style... it's unlikely they're going to have anything like what we've chosen, as they'll be restrained by a lot of protocol, but what if? What if our carefully planned and very personal wedding just looks like a poor imitation of the most highly publicised marriage so far this century?
I know this is irrational! I know that even if they want pirates, they won't be allowed pirates! I know none of our guests will be making comparisons! But Bridal Brain is not conducive to sane, rational thought!
.
..
...
I'll understand if anyone wants to just come back in June.
If it helps, this post isn't about them as such. If I wasn't in the middle of wedding planning myself, then the entirety of my response to the news of their engagement would consist of "oh, that's nice for them," and wouldn't warrant a tweet let alone a blog post.
However I have been nurturing a Bridal Brain since February, so my initial response was "oh, that's nice for them... hang on! Spring or Summer 2011?!? AIEEAAAAGH!!!" Ever since the drive home from Wales back in February, Steve and I have been planning for Spring/Summer 2011 (we've settled on a date in May) and now I am having irrational fears of our wedding being upstaged, sidelined, downplayed, faded out and all sorts of other directional diminishment.
A couple of times I very nearly tweeted "if they steal our date, I'll bloody well kill them," but recent events mean that even though I would only mean this in the figurative sense, and even though it should be apparent that someone with my physical attributes poses very little threat to a healthy Forces-trained male even without a constant bodyguard presence, it would still be a bloody stupid thing to say. So instead I went with "If they pick our wedding date, I'll... I'll... I'll be quite annoyed #IAmNotBraveEnoughToBeSpartacus" and felt like an enormous coward.
I mean, it's bad enough to end up sharing your wedding day with a major sporting event (Wimbledon, World Cup, Test Match Cricket, whatever) that your guests are going to be sneakily trying to keep track of. To clash with the hype of a major royal wedding... it doesn't bear thinking about!
The biggest problem is that, for obvious reasons, I have to spend a lot of time resting, and if I can't sleep, I tend to daydream, and my daydreams aren't always kind to me. This opened my brain to the horrific possibility that if they get married in, say, March, and they have, for the sake of argument, a pirate theme to entertain the kids who are attending, then when people come to our wedding in May and see all the pirate party bags and whatnot, then even though we bought that stuff in summer 2010, it'll look like we're trying to emulate them. Same goes for music, readings, colour schemes, dress style... it's unlikely they're going to have anything like what we've chosen, as they'll be restrained by a lot of protocol, but what if? What if our carefully planned and very personal wedding just looks like a poor imitation of the most highly publicised marriage so far this century?
I know this is irrational! I know that even if they want pirates, they won't be allowed pirates! I know none of our guests will be making comparisons! But Bridal Brain is not conducive to sane, rational thought!
.
..
...
I'll understand if anyone wants to just come back in June.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Pointless Invention
Today I saw what is possibly the most pointless piece of "time-saving" technology ever.
Sainsburys are trialling Prescription Vending Machines. You log in with your fingerprint and/or ID number, put your prescription into the machine, and get your drugs out.
On the face of it, wonderful. I get pretty much the same incredibly common drugs every four weeks and it would save me about twenty minutes a month if I could insert my prescription into a slot with one hand and pick up my tablets with the other.
Then I saw this BBC piece on how it actually works (that link goes to a video piece, I haven't yet found a written article). I'll do a step-by-step description, with what happens when I use the human pharmacy in italic text and the way the machine works in bold.
I go to the pharmacy counter, write the date and sign the prescription form, and hand it to a pharmacy worker (not the pharmacist) who tells me how long it is likely to take. If it's five minutes, I hang around and wait, if it's half an hour they give me a collection ticket and I'll find something else to do and come back later.
I go to the pharmacy vending machine, write the date and sign the prescription form. I mess about for a little while logging into the system (assuming I'm at a height where I can see the screen, and have a level of vision which allows me to see and use a touch-screen interface). Then I put my prescription into a special envelope (assuming there's nothing wrong with my hands)and post it into the little slot. The machine prints off a collection ticket telling me how long I will have to wait.
So far, the machine is taking longer. But what happens next is even better - and it ensures that the wait will never be as short as five minutes. Let's assume my waiting time is 30 minutes and I've wandered off...
The pharmacy assistant places my prescription at the back of a prescriptions box. The pharmacist himself is taking prescriptions from the front and dealing with them one by one. Eventually he gets to mine. He enters my prescriptions into the computer, to make sure none of them clash (this extra layer of checking by a fresh person and a separate computer is why GPs don't tend to give out drugs directly), measures out the drugs, puts them into a paper bag, seals it with a label with my name and NHS number printed on it, and places it onto a shelf which I believe is organised alphabetically for last name.
The pharmacist at the back of the machine - yes, the machine is dependent on a human being at the back of it - retrieves my special envelope, opens it, and takes out my prescription. He enters my prescriptions into the computer (is this sounding familiar yet?), measures out the drugs, puts them into a plastic baggie with my name and NHS number printed on it, and places this into the machine, which may or may not be organised alphabetically, who knows?
Yes, in true mechanical Turk style, there's still an actual qualified pharmacist doing all the actual work. The machine is just a glorified drop-box. So far the processing system is no more automated than it's been for the last ten years or so. They've just added an extra layer of ID-checking that's going to make it difficult for shorter people, people using wheelchairs, people who have trouble with their hands, people who can't see or use touch-screens, and people who are too ill to come out to collect prescriptions and have to send a friend or assistant. I bet the thing talks as well, just to exclude those with impaired hearing/auditory processing too - they might as well try and get the full house.
Anyway, half an hour or more passes and I come back to the pharmacy...
I confirm my name to the pharmacy assistant. They retrieve my bag of drugs from the shelf of prepared prescriptions, ask me to confirm my address and date of birth, and hand it over. They will advise me of any clashes (for instance that antibiotics reduce the effectiveness of the contraceptive pill) and then off I go.
I log in to the system again, assuming as before that I am able to do such a thing. The machine retrieves my bag of drugs from the high-tech shelf inside, and pushes it into the collection chamber with a little note telling me of any clashes. I open the collection chamber, retrieve my tablets, and off I go.
So it takes longer and is no more reliable than the current system, even assuming that there are no mechanical or software issues with the machines - self-checkout, anyone? Nevertheless their claim that it will enable people to skip the queues is probably correct, as the sick or disabled people unable to use the machine will still be queuing at the normal pharmacy. It's not even as if they'll save that much on staffing costs, as the machine still requires a pharmacist to do the bulk of the work and presumably an operator to empty, fill and maintain the thing.
I love technology but I really cannot see the point of this one.
Sainsburys are trialling Prescription Vending Machines. You log in with your fingerprint and/or ID number, put your prescription into the machine, and get your drugs out.
On the face of it, wonderful. I get pretty much the same incredibly common drugs every four weeks and it would save me about twenty minutes a month if I could insert my prescription into a slot with one hand and pick up my tablets with the other.
Then I saw this BBC piece on how it actually works (that link goes to a video piece, I haven't yet found a written article). I'll do a step-by-step description, with what happens when I use the human pharmacy in italic text and the way the machine works in bold.
I go to the pharmacy counter, write the date and sign the prescription form, and hand it to a pharmacy worker (not the pharmacist) who tells me how long it is likely to take. If it's five minutes, I hang around and wait, if it's half an hour they give me a collection ticket and I'll find something else to do and come back later.
I go to the pharmacy vending machine, write the date and sign the prescription form. I mess about for a little while logging into the system (assuming I'm at a height where I can see the screen, and have a level of vision which allows me to see and use a touch-screen interface). Then I put my prescription into a special envelope (assuming there's nothing wrong with my hands)and post it into the little slot. The machine prints off a collection ticket telling me how long I will have to wait.
So far, the machine is taking longer. But what happens next is even better - and it ensures that the wait will never be as short as five minutes. Let's assume my waiting time is 30 minutes and I've wandered off...
The pharmacy assistant places my prescription at the back of a prescriptions box. The pharmacist himself is taking prescriptions from the front and dealing with them one by one. Eventually he gets to mine. He enters my prescriptions into the computer, to make sure none of them clash (this extra layer of checking by a fresh person and a separate computer is why GPs don't tend to give out drugs directly), measures out the drugs, puts them into a paper bag, seals it with a label with my name and NHS number printed on it, and places it onto a shelf which I believe is organised alphabetically for last name.
The pharmacist at the back of the machine - yes, the machine is dependent on a human being at the back of it - retrieves my special envelope, opens it, and takes out my prescription. He enters my prescriptions into the computer (is this sounding familiar yet?), measures out the drugs, puts them into a plastic baggie with my name and NHS number printed on it, and places this into the machine, which may or may not be organised alphabetically, who knows?
Yes, in true mechanical Turk style, there's still an actual qualified pharmacist doing all the actual work. The machine is just a glorified drop-box. So far the processing system is no more automated than it's been for the last ten years or so. They've just added an extra layer of ID-checking that's going to make it difficult for shorter people, people using wheelchairs, people who have trouble with their hands, people who can't see or use touch-screens, and people who are too ill to come out to collect prescriptions and have to send a friend or assistant. I bet the thing talks as well, just to exclude those with impaired hearing/auditory processing too - they might as well try and get the full house.
Anyway, half an hour or more passes and I come back to the pharmacy...
I confirm my name to the pharmacy assistant. They retrieve my bag of drugs from the shelf of prepared prescriptions, ask me to confirm my address and date of birth, and hand it over. They will advise me of any clashes (for instance that antibiotics reduce the effectiveness of the contraceptive pill) and then off I go.
I log in to the system again, assuming as before that I am able to do such a thing. The machine retrieves my bag of drugs from the high-tech shelf inside, and pushes it into the collection chamber with a little note telling me of any clashes. I open the collection chamber, retrieve my tablets, and off I go.
So it takes longer and is no more reliable than the current system, even assuming that there are no mechanical or software issues with the machines - self-checkout, anyone? Nevertheless their claim that it will enable people to skip the queues is probably correct, as the sick or disabled people unable to use the machine will still be queuing at the normal pharmacy. It's not even as if they'll save that much on staffing costs, as the machine still requires a pharmacist to do the bulk of the work and presumably an operator to empty, fill and maintain the thing.
I love technology but I really cannot see the point of this one.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Getting on with 2010
Life has been (mostly) nicely full since my last post.
The biggest nice thing was that Steve and I went on a little weekend jaunt to thetop left north-west corner of Wales. There wasn't a special reason beyond "getting out" and in many ways I think that made it even more enjoyable. We were supposed to have another friend with us, but unfortunately he had to drop out at the last minute... in retrospect that's probably a good thing because I don't think Steve's car was built to hold more than two adults for long journeys.
So we spent Saturday trundling as far as Bangor, where we stopped overnight at a Travelodge, and then on Sunday we picked up a load of leaflets from the foyer to see if there were any particularly appealing attractions. Which there were, but for some unfathomable reason most of them aren't open until Easter. Tsk. So we decided to take our trek to thetop left north west corner to extremes, and headed over the bridges to Anglesey, and thence to Holy Island.
On the way we stopped in at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch and got a couple of postcards, because we couldn't not. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day, so we then continued on to the bird sanctuary at South Stack. There was wheelie access right up to the clifftop (and probably right off the clifftop if you weren't careful) and it was lovely to be able to sit there watching the sun, sea, waves, lighthouse, birds, boats, and also looking out for our own noses falling off with frostbite because it was COLD! Still, that's only to be expected for January.
Steve tucked me back into the car to defrost while he ran about taking more photos. I got out my phone to amuse myself and was a little disturbed to find a text message from my mobile phone provider welcoming me to Ireland and advising me of the Euro Roaming Charges. I don't know whether to be peeved at the lack of local signal, or be impressed that my phone was getting a signal from over 60 miles away.
The rest of my enjoyment of the beautiful scenery was from inside the car, but it most definitely was beautiful. We found time to stop at Trefriw Woollen Mills which was nice in a "yay! found yarny!" way, but again, most of the features apart from the shop were closed up for the winter.
Poor Steve obviously had sole responsibility for the driving which meant that he was as shattered as I was by the time we got home. A substantial part of last week was spent with me taking it as easy as possible during the day, to make sure that when he crawled in after work in the evening I wouldn't have to ask him to do as much.
Then on Friday, just as we were picking up again, we both came down with the latest illness sweeping around his office! It was a really nasty one with fevers and yuck - one of those ones where you decide you can't cook, order a takeaway, and then it arrives and you just look at it, knowing that you should eat, but unable to bring yourself to actually do it. Happily it was just a two-or-three-days one and we're both feeling a lot better now.
The business stuff is all but ready to go now, thanks to the help of the Prince's Trust. There's still a few chains to be completed, silly things like: I want to pay for my insurance, domain name, etc, from the business account; I'd rather not start charging things to that account until I'm certain that the capital I paid in has cleared; I won't know if it's cleared until I've had a look in the online banking; I can't look at the online banking until I have all my login details. But the bits and bobs are in place. Mainly I just have to man (woman?) the heck up and take the plunge of registering.
The biggest nice thing was that Steve and I went on a little weekend jaunt to the
So we spent Saturday trundling as far as Bangor, where we stopped overnight at a Travelodge, and then on Sunday we picked up a load of leaflets from the foyer to see if there were any particularly appealing attractions. Which there were, but for some unfathomable reason most of them aren't open until Easter. Tsk. So we decided to take our trek to the
On the way we stopped in at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch and got a couple of postcards, because we couldn't not. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day, so we then continued on to the bird sanctuary at South Stack. There was wheelie access right up to the clifftop (and probably right off the clifftop if you weren't careful) and it was lovely to be able to sit there watching the sun, sea, waves, lighthouse, birds, boats, and also looking out for our own noses falling off with frostbite because it was COLD! Still, that's only to be expected for January.
Steve tucked me back into the car to defrost while he ran about taking more photos. I got out my phone to amuse myself and was a little disturbed to find a text message from my mobile phone provider welcoming me to Ireland and advising me of the Euro Roaming Charges. I don't know whether to be peeved at the lack of local signal, or be impressed that my phone was getting a signal from over 60 miles away.
The rest of my enjoyment of the beautiful scenery was from inside the car, but it most definitely was beautiful. We found time to stop at Trefriw Woollen Mills which was nice in a "yay! found yarny!" way, but again, most of the features apart from the shop were closed up for the winter.
Poor Steve obviously had sole responsibility for the driving which meant that he was as shattered as I was by the time we got home. A substantial part of last week was spent with me taking it as easy as possible during the day, to make sure that when he crawled in after work in the evening I wouldn't have to ask him to do as much.
Then on Friday, just as we were picking up again, we both came down with the latest illness sweeping around his office! It was a really nasty one with fevers and yuck - one of those ones where you decide you can't cook, order a takeaway, and then it arrives and you just look at it, knowing that you should eat, but unable to bring yourself to actually do it. Happily it was just a two-or-three-days one and we're both feeling a lot better now.
The business stuff is all but ready to go now, thanks to the help of the Prince's Trust. There's still a few chains to be completed, silly things like: I want to pay for my insurance, domain name, etc, from the business account; I'd rather not start charging things to that account until I'm certain that the capital I paid in has cleared; I won't know if it's cleared until I've had a look in the online banking; I can't look at the online banking until I have all my login details. But the bits and bobs are in place. Mainly I just have to man (woman?) the heck up and take the plunge of registering.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Procrastination... and breathe
Ok, I am admitting right now to all of you that I am procrastinating on the self-employment front.
I will do it and I am making progress. I'm most of the way through my online business course; I have a Marketing Plan and about three-quarters of a Business Plan; I've written a lot of the text for my website. But I'm having to really push myself over every step.
It's not the work involved. The work is not a problem. The trouble is that I have my self-image, my little mental picture of me... and then I have a little mental picture of A Self-Employed Businesswoman... and there's no way I can manage to superimpose the two. I'm not a shoulder-pads kind of girl, you know? That's part of why I'm setting up as an assistant... I keep wondering who exactly I am trying to kid by calling myself a business.
Anyway, there was a major panic this afternoon when my new Business Advisor asked me about my planned start date and told me that the "HMRC definition is once you have set up your website or have got anything with your name on it – i.e. business card, letterhead, leaflet, etc you are in the eyes of HMRC starting to trade," and I went AWOOOGA! because I've been getting ready piece by piece and have, for instance, set up a business banking account and a PO Box weeks ago, but I don't yet have several other important things like insurance or a tax reference number.
Thankfully I decided that if something is causing me that amount of upset, I should seek a second opinion, and HMRC's self-employment helpline allows me to go straight to source. Turns out it runs from when you have the ability to provide your goods or service and are "open for business". So in my case, since I would currently be telling a potential customer "sorry, I'm not quite ready yet," I have not started to trade, no matter how much of the setup I've got in place.
Phew.
However, it has given me a bit of a kick up the bum about the whole thing. As a result of which, I am eagerly awaiting some insurance quotes and doing my best to remember that all I have to do as a first stage is meet the legal minimum requirements - nobody expects me to become SuperBusinessWoman overnight and the shoulder pads are truly optional.
I will do it and I am making progress. I'm most of the way through my online business course; I have a Marketing Plan and about three-quarters of a Business Plan; I've written a lot of the text for my website. But I'm having to really push myself over every step.
It's not the work involved. The work is not a problem. The trouble is that I have my self-image, my little mental picture of me... and then I have a little mental picture of A Self-Employed Businesswoman... and there's no way I can manage to superimpose the two. I'm not a shoulder-pads kind of girl, you know? That's part of why I'm setting up as an assistant... I keep wondering who exactly I am trying to kid by calling myself a business.
Anyway, there was a major panic this afternoon when my new Business Advisor asked me about my planned start date and told me that the "HMRC definition is once you have set up your website or have got anything with your name on it – i.e. business card, letterhead, leaflet, etc you are in the eyes of HMRC starting to trade," and I went AWOOOGA! because I've been getting ready piece by piece and have, for instance, set up a business banking account and a PO Box weeks ago, but I don't yet have several other important things like insurance or a tax reference number.
Thankfully I decided that if something is causing me that amount of upset, I should seek a second opinion, and HMRC's self-employment helpline allows me to go straight to source. Turns out it runs from when you have the ability to provide your goods or service and are "open for business". So in my case, since I would currently be telling a potential customer "sorry, I'm not quite ready yet," I have not started to trade, no matter how much of the setup I've got in place.
Phew.
However, it has given me a bit of a kick up the bum about the whole thing. As a result of which, I am eagerly awaiting some insurance quotes and doing my best to remember that all I have to do as a first stage is meet the legal minimum requirements - nobody expects me to become SuperBusinessWoman overnight and the shoulder pads are truly optional.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Fantastic Mr Fox
Last night, Steve and I went with some friends to see Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs. Synopsis in a can: amateur scientist invents machine that makes food from water, greed, lack of forethought, it all goes horribly wrong, amateur scientist and friends discover hidden depths to save world. It was predictable, with all the family-values schmaltz and barely disguised moralising that you have to expect from a kids' movie. But nevertheless it was fun, with lots of gags, silliness, and bits that fly over the heads of the kiddies in the audience while making the adults choke on their popcorn. All the nerds and geeks will feel their toes curl as they empathise with Flint (even while they shout at the screen about the dodgy science and how water doesn't have a "genetic code" - remember guys, it's a kids movie), and there are no prizes for identifying the charcter voiced by Mr T.
But the thing that is still bugging my brain today is one of the trailers, for a film version of Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr Fox. There are many things you can say about Roald Dahl, but "his writing is really compatible with predictable Hollywood formula" is not one of them. He was a dark genius, and the glory of his writing is that it is often highly disturbing and that the "winner" is not necessarily "the good guy".
What I recall of the storyline of Fantastic Mr Fox is: a family of foxes who steal their food from nearby farmers find themselves in trouble, when the farmers decide they've had enough and start to take some extreme pest control measures. But with skill and daring, Mr Fox manages to not only evade the farmers, but finds a way to steal even more food than he was stealing before, enabling all the vermin in the surrounding area to "eat like kings" for the rest of their lives. With the notable exception of the Rat who lives in the cider cellar, who Mr Fox and Badger, big bullies that they are, threaten to eat if he attempts to stop them stealing the booze for their party.
Mr Fox is not and does not claim to be anything other than a thief. That the farmers are upset by the constant thefts from the businesses that are their livelihood is quite understandable. However the reader is encouraged to be firmly on the side of the criminals, and against the farmers who are protecting their property. Where's the moral? Who knows? It's quite likely there isn't one. Dahl never claimed to be guiding or educating children - in fact he quite liked the idea that he might be just a little bit corruptive, a little bit wicked.
However I can't see a celebration of breaking rules for purely personal gain cutting the mustard with a Hollywood focus group. There must have been changes, and big changes at that.
Which makes me wonder. Do I go and see it, because I am a Dahl fan and it is a film version of one of his books? Or do I avoid it like the plague, because I am a Dahl fan and I don't want to see his work smashed to pieces with a saccharine hammer?
But the thing that is still bugging my brain today is one of the trailers, for a film version of Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr Fox. There are many things you can say about Roald Dahl, but "his writing is really compatible with predictable Hollywood formula" is not one of them. He was a dark genius, and the glory of his writing is that it is often highly disturbing and that the "winner" is not necessarily "the good guy".
What I recall of the storyline of Fantastic Mr Fox is: a family of foxes who steal their food from nearby farmers find themselves in trouble, when the farmers decide they've had enough and start to take some extreme pest control measures. But with skill and daring, Mr Fox manages to not only evade the farmers, but finds a way to steal even more food than he was stealing before, enabling all the vermin in the surrounding area to "eat like kings" for the rest of their lives. With the notable exception of the Rat who lives in the cider cellar, who Mr Fox and Badger, big bullies that they are, threaten to eat if he attempts to stop them stealing the booze for their party.
Mr Fox is not and does not claim to be anything other than a thief. That the farmers are upset by the constant thefts from the businesses that are their livelihood is quite understandable. However the reader is encouraged to be firmly on the side of the criminals, and against the farmers who are protecting their property. Where's the moral? Who knows? It's quite likely there isn't one. Dahl never claimed to be guiding or educating children - in fact he quite liked the idea that he might be just a little bit corruptive, a little bit wicked.
However I can't see a celebration of breaking rules for purely personal gain cutting the mustard with a Hollywood focus group. There must have been changes, and big changes at that.
Which makes me wonder. Do I go and see it, because I am a Dahl fan and it is a film version of one of his books? Or do I avoid it like the plague, because I am a Dahl fan and I don't want to see his work smashed to pieces with a saccharine hammer?
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Wednesday
Wednesday is my day off, but today, it really doesn't feel like one.
What I'm about to say is going to sound really daft...
Today I have 3 hours of social activity with my PA and you know what? I almost wish I didn't.
Anybody from Social Services reading this, I said almost, and I'm only referring to today...
You see, I have nothing to do.
Steve and I seem to have some sort of bug or whatever and we're both feeling more run-down than usual. I had to go home early from work on Monday and went straight to bed and stayed there. With an effort, I managed work and knitting on Tuesday, but now I'm really shattered and all I want to do is just crawl back into bed and stay put. This removes all of the more physical activities I might engage in during my three hours of PA time like swimming or bowling.
The weather is miserable, so that removes the outdoorsy activities I enjoy like going for a wander-about in this or that park, maybe having a bit of a picnic somewhere pretty, very enjoyable things even when energy is low that just aren't fun when it's persisting it down.
I tried museums and art galleries but I guess I'm just not that sort of person. I do my best to find it interesting and make dutiful comments about how fascinating it is to find out about (insert museum speciality here) but seriously, I'm either falling asleep, or I'm getting a headache from trying to stoke up an interest and absorb tons of information about something that simply doesn't interest me. It's a bit different when I'm with Steve, because he can get excited about the engineering involved, or at the very least, find stuff to photograph in beautiful or unusual ways, and I can watch him.
I have enough library books to last several weeks, and there's nothing at all that I need to shop for.
As Steve isn't currently working, there aren't any out-and-about jobs that I should be taking care of, because he's tackling that sort of thing as it crops up. Which is great, and I am a million flavours of NOT complaining, but at least when I know I have to post a letter or buy a birthday card or something, it gives me the start of the roll of sticky tape.
Also as Steve isn't currently working, and as I've just splurged a month's worth of my own wages on this shiny new laptop (which I have been slowly getting used to since last night), it's not a good time to head to a shopping mall and spend money on things that I really don't need just for the sake of filling up some time.
But I have these three hours and although there's some flexibility, over the course of a month, my PA is supposed to do and get paid for a minimum of the regular approved number of hours.
So I'm sitting here, really not wanting to DO anything, yet trying to think of some sort of activity to occupy myself and my PA. I feel like I'm obliged to come up with some form of entertainment despite only wanting to sleep. I feel like it's a job.
All I've come up with so far is trying to find a nice cafe and sitting there drinking tea and eating cake and knitting or reading or something. But then I feel like I'm wasting the hours I've been allotted.
What I'm about to say is going to sound really daft...
Today I have 3 hours of social activity with my PA and you know what? I almost wish I didn't.
Anybody from Social Services reading this, I said almost, and I'm only referring to today...
You see, I have nothing to do.
Steve and I seem to have some sort of bug or whatever and we're both feeling more run-down than usual. I had to go home early from work on Monday and went straight to bed and stayed there. With an effort, I managed work and knitting on Tuesday, but now I'm really shattered and all I want to do is just crawl back into bed and stay put. This removes all of the more physical activities I might engage in during my three hours of PA time like swimming or bowling.
The weather is miserable, so that removes the outdoorsy activities I enjoy like going for a wander-about in this or that park, maybe having a bit of a picnic somewhere pretty, very enjoyable things even when energy is low that just aren't fun when it's persisting it down.
I tried museums and art galleries but I guess I'm just not that sort of person. I do my best to find it interesting and make dutiful comments about how fascinating it is to find out about (insert museum speciality here) but seriously, I'm either falling asleep, or I'm getting a headache from trying to stoke up an interest and absorb tons of information about something that simply doesn't interest me. It's a bit different when I'm with Steve, because he can get excited about the engineering involved, or at the very least, find stuff to photograph in beautiful or unusual ways, and I can watch him.
I have enough library books to last several weeks, and there's nothing at all that I need to shop for.
As Steve isn't currently working, there aren't any out-and-about jobs that I should be taking care of, because he's tackling that sort of thing as it crops up. Which is great, and I am a million flavours of NOT complaining, but at least when I know I have to post a letter or buy a birthday card or something, it gives me the start of the roll of sticky tape.
Also as Steve isn't currently working, and as I've just splurged a month's worth of my own wages on this shiny new laptop (which I have been slowly getting used to since last night), it's not a good time to head to a shopping mall and spend money on things that I really don't need just for the sake of filling up some time.
But I have these three hours and although there's some flexibility, over the course of a month, my PA is supposed to do and get paid for a minimum of the regular approved number of hours.
So I'm sitting here, really not wanting to DO anything, yet trying to think of some sort of activity to occupy myself and my PA. I feel like I'm obliged to come up with some form of entertainment despite only wanting to sleep. I feel like it's a job.
All I've come up with so far is trying to find a nice cafe and sitting there drinking tea and eating cake and knitting or reading or something. But then I feel like I'm wasting the hours I've been allotted.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Breakfast
I am many, many things, but a culinary wizard is not one of them. Part of that can be placed squarely at the door of chronic illness - the way that "chop one onion" is for me not a quick aside in the flow of a recipe, but a hazardous undertaking that will require a sit down, a rest, and possibly a couple of sticky plasters - but even before I got ill, I would have a good swear at cookery books and online recipes. What is a "ricer"? Why do you assume I have fresh garlic in the house? If I'm "cooking until golden brown", what time should I put the vegetables on? Couldn't you have mentioned that the oven needs pre-heating before the "now put it all in the oven" stage?
So instead, I've focused on perfecting simple dishes. I am pleased to announce my latest accomplishment: Hot Buttered Toast And A Cup Of Tea.
You will need:
for the toast
two slices of Bread
Butter
a Butterknife
a Small Plate
for the tea
Water
a Teabag
Milk and Sugar if you want them
a Cup
a Teaspoon
In addition you will require a fridge (or other means of keeping perishable dairy items chilled), a toaster (or other means of toasting bread) and a kettle (or other means of making water boiling hot). And an appropriate power source for these pieces of equipment, although possibly this is getting a little extreme for the planning...
Step One: Make the tea. While I acknowledge and respect the many regional variations on this theme, I tend to go for swilling a bit of hot water around the cup, chucking the water out, then dropping a teabag and two teaspoons of sugar into the cup before almost-filling it with hot water. Give it a stir, let it brew for a minute, then remove the teabag and add a splash of milk. One last stir, and it's done.
Top Tip: throw the water away down the sink, and throw the teabag away into the bin. The other way around doesn't work so well.
Step two: Prepare the butter. Now this is what's usually the problem. Leave butter out of the fridge, it doesn't keep properly, keep it in the fridge, it's rock solid. So what you do is:
and then the trick at the crux of the whole procedure:
Leave it there for a couple of minutes while toasting your bread. This will be sufficient to warm the butter (so that it's spreadable but not melting) and also to warm the plate (so that your hot toast doesn't become cold toast after being on the plate for ten seconds).
When the toast is done, remove the plate from the top of the cup. Use the butterknife to transfer one warm pat of butter to each slice of toast, and spread. Cut the toast into your preferred shape.
Eat. Drink. Be happy. Leave the marinades to the experts.
So instead, I've focused on perfecting simple dishes. I am pleased to announce my latest accomplishment: Hot Buttered Toast And A Cup Of Tea.
You will need:
for the toast
two slices of Bread
Butter
a Butterknife
a Small Plate
for the tea
Water
a Teabag
Milk and Sugar if you want them
a Cup
a Teaspoon
In addition you will require a fridge (or other means of keeping perishable dairy items chilled), a toaster (or other means of toasting bread) and a kettle (or other means of making water boiling hot). And an appropriate power source for these pieces of equipment, although possibly this is getting a little extreme for the planning...
Step One: Make the tea. While I acknowledge and respect the many regional variations on this theme, I tend to go for swilling a bit of hot water around the cup, chucking the water out, then dropping a teabag and two teaspoons of sugar into the cup before almost-filling it with hot water. Give it a stir, let it brew for a minute, then remove the teabag and add a splash of milk. One last stir, and it's done.
Top Tip: throw the water away down the sink, and throw the teabag away into the bin. The other way around doesn't work so well.
Step two: Prepare the butter. Now this is what's usually the problem. Leave butter out of the fridge, it doesn't keep properly, keep it in the fridge, it's rock solid. So what you do is:
- Remove the butter from the fridge. Put the milk back in, while you're at it. Neatness is a virtue.
- Using the butterknife, cut two slices of butter from the block, each about 2mm or 3mm thick.
- Place the slices of butter on the sideplate.
and then the trick at the crux of the whole procedure:
- Balance the plate on top of the hot cup of tea.
Leave it there for a couple of minutes while toasting your bread. This will be sufficient to warm the butter (so that it's spreadable but not melting) and also to warm the plate (so that your hot toast doesn't become cold toast after being on the plate for ten seconds).
When the toast is done, remove the plate from the top of the cup. Use the butterknife to transfer one warm pat of butter to each slice of toast, and spread. Cut the toast into your preferred shape.
Eat. Drink. Be happy. Leave the marinades to the experts.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Biscuits
When I started work, okay, I was on minimum wage, but I had something that Steve and his high-flying techie friends didn't have. An office kitchen with a "help yourself" policy. While none of the people with 'proper' jobs were really about to take an 80% pay cut and relinquish their daytime internet access just for free tea, coffee, and biscuits, it did make me feel a little bit better. I had a Perk. I didn't have to drink hot coloured water from a plastic cup and pretend it was tea, and I never had to thump a vending machine which had eaten my last twenty pence piece but not dispensed my goodies. No tokens, no cards, no forms, no systems, no unspoken implication that given half a chance the employees would undermine the entire company with our gluttony... just a decent cuppa and a biscuit whenever I felt I wanted one. It must not be underrated.
Then the unthinkable happened. A couple of people went on diets, and the person who had been the most influential in keeping the biscuit cupboard stocked left for another job. I would go to the cupboard and find no biscuits - or worse, I would find half a packet of Custard Creams, which I detest. For the last few months, I've been taking my own snack in my handbag, which isn't a problem, but I did miss my mid-afternoon Perk of biscuitty goodness.
But yesterday! I don't know what compelled me to look in the cupboard, but I did, and lo, there was half a packet of Custard Creams, and... a pristine, unopened packed of chocolate digestives. Dark chocolate digestives. My favourite.
Could be it's the drugs talking - I am having a bit of a time of it and taking more than I otherwise would this week - but that packet of biscuits filled my heart with joy. I suddenly felt a lot more positive about all sorts of things.
Then the unthinkable happened. A couple of people went on diets, and the person who had been the most influential in keeping the biscuit cupboard stocked left for another job. I would go to the cupboard and find no biscuits - or worse, I would find half a packet of Custard Creams, which I detest. For the last few months, I've been taking my own snack in my handbag, which isn't a problem, but I did miss my mid-afternoon Perk of biscuitty goodness.
But yesterday! I don't know what compelled me to look in the cupboard, but I did, and lo, there was half a packet of Custard Creams, and... a pristine, unopened packed of chocolate digestives. Dark chocolate digestives. My favourite.
Could be it's the drugs talking - I am having a bit of a time of it and taking more than I otherwise would this week - but that packet of biscuits filled my heart with joy. I suddenly felt a lot more positive about all sorts of things.
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