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?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Second Job
Yes, that's right, in these darkened times when there are many more jobseekers than jobs available, I'm being a greedy git and deciding to have TWO at once.
Okay, so they're both part time - the existing one at 17.5 hours a week and the new one at somewhere between "a couple" and "a few" hours - and even the combined pay wouldn't be enough to lift anyone without financial support from a partner out of benefits dependency - but nevertheless.
As you've probably guessed, precise details are at a hazy stage with a start date of "once the paperwork's done", but I've filled in my bit of a P46 and been shown around the system I'll be using so I don't think I'm jumping the gun in considering the job to be a definite thing.
It's very flexible and it's mostly working from home, data entry and envelope stuffing and suchlike, which is why I'm able to take it on. There's no way I could do more hours in my main job, since by the time I crawl into my taxi at the end of an afternoon I am utterly shattered, barely capable of talking, and wincing at every pothole and speedbump on the way home. But the idea with the new job is that once I've got home and had a couple of hours to rest and get a bit of dinner inside me, then if I feel up to it I'll be able to sit up and do anything between twenty minutes and two hours of additional work. And if I don't feel up to it, or if I have something else to do, then I won't. I can stop the clock for a break whenever I need to, and I can take that break in the quiet and comfort of my own home which is so much more effective than trying to screen out the noise and busy-ness of a hectic office. I won't have to force myself to keep going until a taxi arrives, either, which will be nice.
Of course, the first person I called to tell was my mother... of course, her immediate reaction was a comparison to Sister Dearest and her Fabulous Career*. Admittedly I know by now that any phone call to my mother has to include several minutes listening to the praises of SD and her FC being sung, but on this one occasion I really could have done without it - I wanted to play the game where we at least pretend to be proud/congratulatory/encouraging of my hard work and minor accomplishments.
Happily, Steve and my friends are more than capable of bolstering my self esteem when it flags and did a sterling job of being pleased for me. Even my current boss congratulated me, once I'd assured him that it was a second job and I wouldn't be leaving his company (his immediate reaction in the seconds before I'd fully explained that bit thoroughly reassured me that I am valued within the workplace).
I've got a desk set up at home now, complete with two desk tidys, a coaster, and my Sunshine Buddy. I have a wireless mouse but I need a mousemat as it's a glass-topped desk. Well, I say need, it's possible to get by just using a bit of paper. But I'd like a proper mousemat. In fact in an ideal world, I'd like to try one of those ones with a padded bit for your wrist but they seem a bit pricey and I'm not sure how much difference they make. If anyone has any input I'll be happy to hear it.
Access to Work are being their usual cagey selves - you can't determine what help you may or may not be able to get through them until you're fully signed up to the job, have a start date, and have completed an application for support - but I've been told that I am "eligible to apply" for support with this job as well, and have two separate support packages running concurrently, although they'll probably be handled by the same person. I'm hoping to get the same deal on transport (I'll be working from home but I will have to go in every so often) where I pay an amount equivalent to a bus fare, and AtW top it up to a taxi fare because I can't use a bus. Equipment-wise, I'll need to have a good think - as a rule, they'll provide anything that is (a) to be used solely by me, AND (b) an item or a specific version of an item needed because of disability-related reasons. So for instance they won't supply biros but they might supply any of these for someone who has trouble with their hands. Ideas?
* Fabulous Career = working for several large national chains of bookies, encouraging gambling addicts to indulge their addictive behaviour. Since she falls in the narrow margin where she can write her own name but is unable/disinclined to get a different job, she has over the course of several years worked her way up to local management. While I realise I'm hardly a high-flyer myself, I can't get quite as excited and impressed by this as my mother seems to.
Okay, so they're both part time - the existing one at 17.5 hours a week and the new one at somewhere between "a couple" and "a few" hours - and even the combined pay wouldn't be enough to lift anyone without financial support from a partner out of benefits dependency - but nevertheless.
As you've probably guessed, precise details are at a hazy stage with a start date of "once the paperwork's done", but I've filled in my bit of a P46 and been shown around the system I'll be using so I don't think I'm jumping the gun in considering the job to be a definite thing.
It's very flexible and it's mostly working from home, data entry and envelope stuffing and suchlike, which is why I'm able to take it on. There's no way I could do more hours in my main job, since by the time I crawl into my taxi at the end of an afternoon I am utterly shattered, barely capable of talking, and wincing at every pothole and speedbump on the way home. But the idea with the new job is that once I've got home and had a couple of hours to rest and get a bit of dinner inside me, then if I feel up to it I'll be able to sit up and do anything between twenty minutes and two hours of additional work. And if I don't feel up to it, or if I have something else to do, then I won't. I can stop the clock for a break whenever I need to, and I can take that break in the quiet and comfort of my own home which is so much more effective than trying to screen out the noise and busy-ness of a hectic office. I won't have to force myself to keep going until a taxi arrives, either, which will be nice.
Of course, the first person I called to tell was my mother... of course, her immediate reaction was a comparison to Sister Dearest and her Fabulous Career*. Admittedly I know by now that any phone call to my mother has to include several minutes listening to the praises of SD and her FC being sung, but on this one occasion I really could have done without it - I wanted to play the game where we at least pretend to be proud/congratulatory/encouraging of my hard work and minor accomplishments.
Happily, Steve and my friends are more than capable of bolstering my self esteem when it flags and did a sterling job of being pleased for me. Even my current boss congratulated me, once I'd assured him that it was a second job and I wouldn't be leaving his company (his immediate reaction in the seconds before I'd fully explained that bit thoroughly reassured me that I am valued within the workplace).
I've got a desk set up at home now, complete with two desk tidys, a coaster, and my Sunshine Buddy. I have a wireless mouse but I need a mousemat as it's a glass-topped desk. Well, I say need, it's possible to get by just using a bit of paper. But I'd like a proper mousemat. In fact in an ideal world, I'd like to try one of those ones with a padded bit for your wrist but they seem a bit pricey and I'm not sure how much difference they make. If anyone has any input I'll be happy to hear it.
Access to Work are being their usual cagey selves - you can't determine what help you may or may not be able to get through them until you're fully signed up to the job, have a start date, and have completed an application for support - but I've been told that I am "eligible to apply" for support with this job as well, and have two separate support packages running concurrently, although they'll probably be handled by the same person. I'm hoping to get the same deal on transport (I'll be working from home but I will have to go in every so often) where I pay an amount equivalent to a bus fare, and AtW top it up to a taxi fare because I can't use a bus. Equipment-wise, I'll need to have a good think - as a rule, they'll provide anything that is (a) to be used solely by me, AND (b) an item or a specific version of an item needed because of disability-related reasons. So for instance they won't supply biros but they might supply any of these for someone who has trouble with their hands. Ideas?
* Fabulous Career = working for several large national chains of bookies, encouraging gambling addicts to indulge their addictive behaviour. Since she falls in the narrow margin where she can write her own name but is unable/disinclined to get a different job, she has over the course of several years worked her way up to local management. While I realise I'm hardly a high-flyer myself, I can't get quite as excited and impressed by this as my mother seems to.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Not the WI
Today I decided to make chocolate cornflake cakes, having in my kitchen both a box of cornflakes and a packet of chocolate bars that were getting dusty because no one fancied eating them.
Turns out, it IS possible to balls-up chocolate cornflake cakes. Who knew?
Things to remember for next time:
With a nod and a grin to Carie, multi-prize winner at her village show and a marvellous friend despite being my polar opposite in so many ways.
Turns out, it IS possible to balls-up chocolate cornflake cakes. Who knew?
Things to remember for next time:
- Don't use snack bars of Galaxy and expect them to behave the same way as cooking chocolate.
- Don't look at the semi-molten, unappetisingly pale brown mess and decide that it's a good idea to add cocoa.
- Don't look at the consistency of your now dark-brown mess and decide that the best way to make it runnier will be to add a bit of water.
With a nod and a grin to Carie, multi-prize winner at her village show and a marvellous friend despite being my polar opposite in so many ways.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
DLA and AA under threat
Yesterday Benefits and Work released some rather alarming news about the proposed axing of "disability benefits", such as DLA and AA. To bring all readers up to speed:
DLA is Disability Living Allowance. This is money paid to disabled people to help cover the additional living costs they face due to disability. It has a Mobility component and a Care component. These are paid at fixed rates (high or low rate Mobility, and high, middle, or low rate Care).
AA is Attendance Allowance. This is sort of like DLA for people over 65, but it is not split into care and mobility - there's just a single high or low rate.
Neither benefit is means-tested for the simple reason that being disabled is expensive regardless of what other income you have. If you work your backside off and earn £20k, you deserve to be able to live the life of someone earning £20k - not to be struggling along in the lifestyle of someone on £12k because you have to shell out a small fortune for absolutely essential, non-negotiable disability expenses. You shouldn't be rendered ineligible for help with these essential expenses because you've had the gall to do things like get a mortgage to buy a house, or put a bit of money in an ISA for a rainy day, rather than spending all your money as it comes in.
Neither benefit is counted as income for means-tested benefit assessments, because the money is given because of additional disability-related expenses, the sort of things where the individual can't choose to save a bit of money by going without.
No one is immune from disability or old age. These issues might not affect you today, but chances are they will affect you at some point, particularly if you plan to live past 65.
All up to speed? Then I'll continue.
The reason DLA and AA are given as money and don't require receipts and suchlike to prove how the money was spent, is because of the huge diversity of disabilities and living conditions it covers, and because the expenses don't always work out that neatly.
Let's explore an example: grocery shopping. I have to pay more for my grocery shopping than an able-bodied person.
First of all, I have to pay for home delivery. I rarely have the spoons to manage to get all the way around a busy, bright, noisy, complicated supermarket, even with a mobility scooter - much less to then be able to get myself and my shopping home, and then immediately put it all away as well. To someone with a condition that makes moving about painful, who has difficulty lifting and carrying, who becomes tired very quickly, or who is easily confused, that's a triathlon.
Second, I have to pay to be able to access home delivery. That means an internet connection and a usable computer, repairs and replacements as necessary. Of course I use the internet and the computer for all sorts of things, essential and otherwise. How on earth would we calculate how much of it is a disability-related expense?
Third, I cannot save money on shopping around. Home delivery usually has a minimum spend. Every week, leaflets of special offers from the main supermarkets come through my door, but I don't have an option to get £10 of food from ASDA and £10 from Tesco and £15 from Sainsburys. I have to pick one shop. I cannot pick the cheapest shops, such as Aldi or Lidl, because they do not deliver.
Fourth, shopping online I cannot take advantage of the "benefits buffet", the items that have been reduced in price in-store because they're almost out of date, or because the packaging's been a bit squashed. It used to be a core money-saver - on my walk home from work, I'd wander into the supermarket and pick up something half-price for that night's dinner...
I had typed as far as my ninth point before I realised I'd gone a bit off course and deleted most of it. Hopefully I've demonstrated my point: disability-related expenses crop up in unusual ways and aren't always possible to calculate - which is why getting DLA or AA in the form of extra money to be spent at the claimants' discretion is utterly invaluable.
This will Not Be A Good Thing.
Worse, they intend to give the funding and responsibility to Social Services instead. The examples of Social Services that are unable to find their backsides with both hands and a map are myriad, but even if we were to grant them the impossible benefit of the doubt and assume that they ran it fairly and smoothly... this change can only mean less autonomy and more paperwork for elderly and disabled people who are not always in a position to be able to deal with it, as they attempt to document and justify every disability-related expense that the local authority will permit (and struggle with the ones they won't acknowledge).
Please, join the campaign at Benefits and Work.
DLA is Disability Living Allowance. This is money paid to disabled people to help cover the additional living costs they face due to disability. It has a Mobility component and a Care component. These are paid at fixed rates (high or low rate Mobility, and high, middle, or low rate Care).
AA is Attendance Allowance. This is sort of like DLA for people over 65, but it is not split into care and mobility - there's just a single high or low rate.
Neither benefit is means-tested for the simple reason that being disabled is expensive regardless of what other income you have. If you work your backside off and earn £20k, you deserve to be able to live the life of someone earning £20k - not to be struggling along in the lifestyle of someone on £12k because you have to shell out a small fortune for absolutely essential, non-negotiable disability expenses. You shouldn't be rendered ineligible for help with these essential expenses because you've had the gall to do things like get a mortgage to buy a house, or put a bit of money in an ISA for a rainy day, rather than spending all your money as it comes in.
Neither benefit is counted as income for means-tested benefit assessments, because the money is given because of additional disability-related expenses, the sort of things where the individual can't choose to save a bit of money by going without.
No one is immune from disability or old age. These issues might not affect you today, but chances are they will affect you at some point, particularly if you plan to live past 65.
All up to speed? Then I'll continue.
The reason DLA and AA are given as money and don't require receipts and suchlike to prove how the money was spent, is because of the huge diversity of disabilities and living conditions it covers, and because the expenses don't always work out that neatly.
Let's explore an example: grocery shopping. I have to pay more for my grocery shopping than an able-bodied person.
First of all, I have to pay for home delivery. I rarely have the spoons to manage to get all the way around a busy, bright, noisy, complicated supermarket, even with a mobility scooter - much less to then be able to get myself and my shopping home, and then immediately put it all away as well. To someone with a condition that makes moving about painful, who has difficulty lifting and carrying, who becomes tired very quickly, or who is easily confused, that's a triathlon.
Second, I have to pay to be able to access home delivery. That means an internet connection and a usable computer, repairs and replacements as necessary. Of course I use the internet and the computer for all sorts of things, essential and otherwise. How on earth would we calculate how much of it is a disability-related expense?
Third, I cannot save money on shopping around. Home delivery usually has a minimum spend. Every week, leaflets of special offers from the main supermarkets come through my door, but I don't have an option to get £10 of food from ASDA and £10 from Tesco and £15 from Sainsburys. I have to pick one shop. I cannot pick the cheapest shops, such as Aldi or Lidl, because they do not deliver.
Fourth, shopping online I cannot take advantage of the "benefits buffet", the items that have been reduced in price in-store because they're almost out of date, or because the packaging's been a bit squashed. It used to be a core money-saver - on my walk home from work, I'd wander into the supermarket and pick up something half-price for that night's dinner...
I had typed as far as my ninth point before I realised I'd gone a bit off course and deleted most of it. Hopefully I've demonstrated my point: disability-related expenses crop up in unusual ways and aren't always possible to calculate - which is why getting DLA or AA in the form of extra money to be spent at the claimants' discretion is utterly invaluable.
The Shaping the Future of Care Green Paper published by the DWP and the Department of Health on 14th July sets out government plans to get rid of attendance allowance and, depending on public reaction, also leaves the way clear to end the care component of DLA.
This will Not Be A Good Thing.
Worse, they intend to give the funding and responsibility to Social Services instead. The examples of Social Services that are unable to find their backsides with both hands and a map are myriad, but even if we were to grant them the impossible benefit of the doubt and assume that they ran it fairly and smoothly... this change can only mean less autonomy and more paperwork for elderly and disabled people who are not always in a position to be able to deal with it, as they attempt to document and justify every disability-related expense that the local authority will permit (and struggle with the ones they won't acknowledge).
Please, join the campaign at Benefits and Work.
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.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Why it's a really good idea to have a geographical number
After spending a couple of hours last night looking at different sorts of laptops (including Alienware - hardware: wow, prices: eep!), Steve and I had narrowed the choices down to five reasonable options that more-or-less met my criteria and budget. So this morning, after the First Cup Of Tea but before the actual Getting Up process, we fired up his eeePC to have a fresh look at these options and see if I could choose which one I wanted.
Eventually we settled on an Acer Aspire 5738, one of the younger cousins of my current (unwell) Acer Aspire 5500. Despite the reduced price offer on laptopsdirect, it was a bit over my ideal budget, but had all my need/want features and looked like it would have the longest to run before it became obsolete.
However, there appeared to have been a data entry error on the technical specs. In one place, it said it had 3GB of RAM. In another place, it said it had 2GB of RAM comprising 1x1GB and 1x2GB, and while I know my maths won't win any prizes, even I can spot the problem there. And then, it encouraged us to phone them and ask about the "double memory offer" which would bring it up to 4GB...
Still, data entry errors happen, so I figured the best thing to do would be to phone and ask for the correct information - and then, depending on whether or not I liked the answers, buy it or start looking at the second-favourite.
Problem. The number to phone about the memory offer was an 0844, and the main site number was 0871, and at the moment Steve and I only have mobile phones available, and these non-geographical numbers are expensive for us to call and don't get included in our "free" minutes. The Contact Us page gave a company address and named the business not as laptopsdirect, but as BuyitDirect. So we googled them, hoping to turn up a geographical number for the business address (yes, I know, Say No To 0870, but their site confuses me, not least because the google ads look like site links).
Instead, we found a series of accounts of failure and f*ckwittery that made us certain of exactly one thing - we weren't going to be giving them any money any time soon.
I'll cheerfully admit to my own laziness/incompetence/impatience when I'm buying new kit while still in bed on a Saturday morning - if there had been a geographical phone number on the site, I wouldn't have bothered digging for information about the company, and thus wouldn't have found all the negative reviews. I'd have rung them up, cleared up the RAM issue, ordered a laptop, and given them the details to charge my card for rather more than five hundred of the finest British pounds sterling. Their loss.
There is a happy twist, though.
On a whim, rather than going to the second-choice laptop (which was with a different retailer), we put the complete catalogue number of my preferred laptop into google. And lo, we found the same laptop on SimplyAcer, and not only that, but it was significantly cheaper and brought the whole thing neatly back under budget. The company provided a postal address and a geographical phone number as their main contact details without any messing about, and a link to their parent company gives not only geographical phone number and postal address but also a little map and photographs of their shop premises, handily situated just up the road in Birmingham, so if there are any problems we'll be able to physically go there to sort it all out.
Eagerly awaiting a despatch email now, although not really *expecting* one until at least the beginning of the working week... have I mentioned lately that I love my G1?
Eventually we settled on an Acer Aspire 5738, one of the younger cousins of my current (unwell) Acer Aspire 5500. Despite the reduced price offer on laptopsdirect, it was a bit over my ideal budget, but had all my need/want features and looked like it would have the longest to run before it became obsolete.
However, there appeared to have been a data entry error on the technical specs. In one place, it said it had 3GB of RAM. In another place, it said it had 2GB of RAM comprising 1x1GB and 1x2GB, and while I know my maths won't win any prizes, even I can spot the problem there. And then, it encouraged us to phone them and ask about the "double memory offer" which would bring it up to 4GB...
Still, data entry errors happen, so I figured the best thing to do would be to phone and ask for the correct information - and then, depending on whether or not I liked the answers, buy it or start looking at the second-favourite.
Problem. The number to phone about the memory offer was an 0844, and the main site number was 0871, and at the moment Steve and I only have mobile phones available, and these non-geographical numbers are expensive for us to call and don't get included in our "free" minutes. The Contact Us page gave a company address and named the business not as laptopsdirect, but as BuyitDirect. So we googled them, hoping to turn up a geographical number for the business address (yes, I know, Say No To 0870, but their site confuses me, not least because the google ads look like site links).
Instead, we found a series of accounts of failure and f*ckwittery that made us certain of exactly one thing - we weren't going to be giving them any money any time soon.
I'll cheerfully admit to my own laziness/incompetence/impatience when I'm buying new kit while still in bed on a Saturday morning - if there had been a geographical phone number on the site, I wouldn't have bothered digging for information about the company, and thus wouldn't have found all the negative reviews. I'd have rung them up, cleared up the RAM issue, ordered a laptop, and given them the details to charge my card for rather more than five hundred of the finest British pounds sterling. Their loss.
There is a happy twist, though.
On a whim, rather than going to the second-choice laptop (which was with a different retailer), we put the complete catalogue number of my preferred laptop into google. And lo, we found the same laptop on SimplyAcer, and not only that, but it was significantly cheaper and brought the whole thing neatly back under budget. The company provided a postal address and a geographical phone number as their main contact details without any messing about, and a link to their parent company gives not only geographical phone number and postal address but also a little map and photographs of their shop premises, handily situated just up the road in Birmingham, so if there are any problems we'll be able to physically go there to sort it all out.
Eagerly awaiting a despatch email now, although not really *expecting* one until at least the beginning of the working week... have I mentioned lately that I love my G1?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Retirement
This may be the last post I write on this, my trusty laptop that I have had since before I started this blog. As such, I wish to pay it proper tribute.
It wants to be a trusty laptop. I know it does. And it has been a trusty laptop, almost every single day for most of the three-and-a-bit years since I first took it out of the box and cuddled it. It has enabled me to shop, bank, and access services from my own home. It's provided entertainment and information and social contact, and has saved me from feeling completely cut off from the world.
But, time has worn on and three years of heavy use has taken its toll. Files are becoming corrupted, bits are sticking, and the fan is whirring away on overtime even when running nothing heftier than the original OS (Windows XP) and a single firefox window. The last couple of games I looked at buying, I did not meet the system requirements (although one of them I bought anyway, because of a limited-edition offer, and we seemed to more-or-less cope).
For the last few months, it's been 50/50 on whether my poor, overworked laptop will manage to complete the boot process, and over the last few days it has been getting worse still. Disturbing mechanical noises are coming from deep within the machine (although nothing is in there that shouldn't be) and we've reached a point where, in order to persuade it to boot, the operator must use the Etch-A-Sketch method - giving it a good shake and a couple of bangs to try and dislodge/reseat whatever is causing the problem. It pains me to treat my precious laptop so harshly, but we really have reached the point where anything I do to it is unlikely to make it worse. The time when it no longer works At All is unfortunately now within the forseeable future.
So, I'm shopping for a new laptop. I've set a fairly arbitrary budget of £500, as that's what this one cost. My "musts" are a decent size screen, a standard size keyboard, WiFi, and a CD reader. My "wants" are for the CD reader to also write CDs, and read (preferably write) DVDs; the capacity to play Sims 3 if I ever buy it; and the handy little memory-card-slot that enables me to just plug the memory cards from my camera straight in to copy my photos over; plenty of USB ports. I also want it to run Windows, partly because that's what I'm confident using, and partly because I want to be able to play my PC games. Recommendations welcome.
Acquiring new toys is always fun and exciting, but I do feel quite sad at the thought of parting company with this one. I will miss it. I'm not going to bury it in the back garden but the thought did cross my mind. It has been a good companion. Perhaps one day we'll resurrect it as a guest computer or something.
It wants to be a trusty laptop. I know it does. And it has been a trusty laptop, almost every single day for most of the three-and-a-bit years since I first took it out of the box and cuddled it. It has enabled me to shop, bank, and access services from my own home. It's provided entertainment and information and social contact, and has saved me from feeling completely cut off from the world.
But, time has worn on and three years of heavy use has taken its toll. Files are becoming corrupted, bits are sticking, and the fan is whirring away on overtime even when running nothing heftier than the original OS (Windows XP) and a single firefox window. The last couple of games I looked at buying, I did not meet the system requirements (although one of them I bought anyway, because of a limited-edition offer, and we seemed to more-or-less cope).
For the last few months, it's been 50/50 on whether my poor, overworked laptop will manage to complete the boot process, and over the last few days it has been getting worse still. Disturbing mechanical noises are coming from deep within the machine (although nothing is in there that shouldn't be) and we've reached a point where, in order to persuade it to boot, the operator must use the Etch-A-Sketch method - giving it a good shake and a couple of bangs to try and dislodge/reseat whatever is causing the problem. It pains me to treat my precious laptop so harshly, but we really have reached the point where anything I do to it is unlikely to make it worse. The time when it no longer works At All is unfortunately now within the forseeable future.
So, I'm shopping for a new laptop. I've set a fairly arbitrary budget of £500, as that's what this one cost. My "musts" are a decent size screen, a standard size keyboard, WiFi, and a CD reader. My "wants" are for the CD reader to also write CDs, and read (preferably write) DVDs; the capacity to play Sims 3 if I ever buy it; and the handy little memory-card-slot that enables me to just plug the memory cards from my camera straight in to copy my photos over; plenty of USB ports. I also want it to run Windows, partly because that's what I'm confident using, and partly because I want to be able to play my PC games. Recommendations welcome.
Acquiring new toys is always fun and exciting, but I do feel quite sad at the thought of parting company with this one. I will miss it. I'm not going to bury it in the back garden but the thought did cross my mind. It has been a good companion. Perhaps one day we'll resurrect it as a guest computer or something.
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.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
This call is being charged at £2 per minute
Today I woke up and looked through my BBC News twitterfeed to see the headline:
"Patients should be charged £20 to see a GP in a bid to limit demands placed on the health service, a centre-rig.. http://tinyurl.com/nwwohp"
Twitter and the 140 character limit. A slightly panicked click-through to the actual story reassures us that there isn't (currently) an intended government policy to charge people £20 for a ten-minute GP's appointment, it's just an idea that a "think tank" called the Social Market Foundation has come up with.
It's pre-9am on a Sunday, I'm still on my first cup of tea, and even so I can think of several things that are wrong with their proposals. Lord knows what this think-tank think they've been doing, but I don't think it was thinking.
First problem: "The group said it would not breach the values of the NHS as charges already applied to dentistry and prescriptions."
Yes, and I can introduce you to people who don't go to the dentist, don't have the necessary dental work done, don't fill their prescriptions, or try things like taking "daily" medications every-other-day, in the name of economy. Generally they end up bouncing on the safety net of emergency care, at an even greater cost to the NHS, once the problem that should have been dealt with in its early stages has been allowed to progress to a much more extreme (and harder/more expensive to deal with) level.
To my mind, charging for essential medical care like this is a breach of the values of the NHS. And just because there's one breach, doesn't mean it's permissible to add a few more.
Second problem: "[David Furness, the author of the report] said "It would get people thinking twice about whether the visit was essential."
Isn't it rather rare to just have one GP's appointment? Most people I know seem to have at least two. There's the first one, where they get told "Have some paracetamol/a bit of a rest/drink more water/make sure you keep it clean/etc, and come back next week if it hasn't cleared up/if it gets worse/if you develop a rash/etc." This is the one where before calling, you say to yourself "is this really bad enough that I need to see a doctor?" and probably the one Mr Furness is thinking about.
But then there's the second one a week later which goes "ah, you're still oozing/wheezing/vomiting, looks like you might be ill after all, let's get you some tests/medications." In an ideal world you'll get prescribed a short course of treatment which resolves the issue and trundle off into the sunset, £40 lighter but perfectly healthy.
Nice idea. However, if you don't get better, there's the third, fourth and fifth appointments, which go "we've got the results of your tests back, and now we need to give you medication/refer you for hospital treatment/send you for more tests/monitor you for a fortnight." Before making these appointments, Mr Furness wants you to think twice about whether it's really essential to carry on trying to establish what's wrong and how to treat it. See previous point about bouncing on the safety net of emergency care and allowing simple, treatable conditions to progress into complex ones.
Third problem: The 250-odd page report crashes my browser after ten minutes, but I did get a chance to double-check on exemptions. Mr Furness feels that instead of "arbitrary" exemptions such as pregnancy or retirement, exemptions from the fees should be based purely on "wealth". He defines "wealthy people" as everyone apart from "children and those receiving tax credits". I could not find any mention of provision for people on other forms of welfare or those on low incomes who are not entitled to or do not claim tax credits. I'm not sure how "children" is any less arbitrary than "pensioners" as a wealth-based category.
The time of my life when I had the most GP's appointments was at the beginning of my illness, when we were trying to figure out what was wrong with me. This makes sense and is not unusual.
This was also, obviously, the time when:
I was therefore not exempt, but also not in a position to hand over £20 per GP's appointment, at the time when I needed it most. My situation was not unusual at all. Also, I was ill. It's not the time to be dumping additional financial hardship onto people. This scheme may be designed to discourage the "worried well" from using up resources, but the people it will impact most are the people who are actually sick and in need of healthcare.
But Mr Furness's final, beautiful demonstration of idiocy had to be: "[he] said the think-tank was opposed to fees being levied on any form of emergency care."
The emergency care service has been creaking at the seams for years for various reasons, including the decreased "Out Of Hours" GP cover. Presented with a choice between phoning a free ambulance to come and visit you at home, or going out to attend a £20 GP appointment, what are most people going to do? I suspect that any savings Mr Furness's ideas might make GP-side would be dwarfed by the increased costs of emergency care.
Mind you, then he could get paid to write a report about how it would be a good idea to charge for that, as well.
"Patients should be charged £20 to see a GP in a bid to limit demands placed on the health service, a centre-rig.. http://tinyurl.com/nwwohp"
Twitter and the 140 character limit. A slightly panicked click-through to the actual story reassures us that there isn't (currently) an intended government policy to charge people £20 for a ten-minute GP's appointment, it's just an idea that a "think tank" called the Social Market Foundation has come up with.
It's pre-9am on a Sunday, I'm still on my first cup of tea, and even so I can think of several things that are wrong with their proposals. Lord knows what this think-tank think they've been doing, but I don't think it was thinking.
First problem: "The group said it would not breach the values of the NHS as charges already applied to dentistry and prescriptions."
Yes, and I can introduce you to people who don't go to the dentist, don't have the necessary dental work done, don't fill their prescriptions, or try things like taking "daily" medications every-other-day, in the name of economy. Generally they end up bouncing on the safety net of emergency care, at an even greater cost to the NHS, once the problem that should have been dealt with in its early stages has been allowed to progress to a much more extreme (and harder/more expensive to deal with) level.
To my mind, charging for essential medical care like this is a breach of the values of the NHS. And just because there's one breach, doesn't mean it's permissible to add a few more.
Second problem: "[David Furness, the author of the report] said "It would get people thinking twice about whether the visit was essential."
Isn't it rather rare to just have one GP's appointment? Most people I know seem to have at least two. There's the first one, where they get told "Have some paracetamol/a bit of a rest/drink more water/make sure you keep it clean/etc, and come back next week if it hasn't cleared up/if it gets worse/if you develop a rash/etc." This is the one where before calling, you say to yourself "is this really bad enough that I need to see a doctor?" and probably the one Mr Furness is thinking about.
But then there's the second one a week later which goes "ah, you're still oozing/wheezing/vomiting, looks like you might be ill after all, let's get you some tests/medications." In an ideal world you'll get prescribed a short course of treatment which resolves the issue and trundle off into the sunset, £40 lighter but perfectly healthy.
Nice idea. However, if you don't get better, there's the third, fourth and fifth appointments, which go "we've got the results of your tests back, and now we need to give you medication/refer you for hospital treatment/send you for more tests/monitor you for a fortnight." Before making these appointments, Mr Furness wants you to think twice about whether it's really essential to carry on trying to establish what's wrong and how to treat it. See previous point about bouncing on the safety net of emergency care and allowing simple, treatable conditions to progress into complex ones.
Third problem: The 250-odd page report crashes my browser after ten minutes, but I did get a chance to double-check on exemptions. Mr Furness feels that instead of "arbitrary" exemptions such as pregnancy or retirement, exemptions from the fees should be based purely on "wealth". He defines "wealthy people" as everyone apart from "children and those receiving tax credits". I could not find any mention of provision for people on other forms of welfare or those on low incomes who are not entitled to or do not claim tax credits. I'm not sure how "children" is any less arbitrary than "pensioners" as a wealth-based category.
The time of my life when I had the most GP's appointments was at the beginning of my illness, when we were trying to figure out what was wrong with me. This makes sense and is not unusual.
This was also, obviously, the time when:
- My job contract had ended and as I was signed off sick, I was not eligible for an extension or able to apply for other jobs. I therefore had no earned income. This makes sense and is not unusual.
- As I was not working, I could not claim or receive tax credits. This makes sense and is not unusual.
- I had not yet been approved to receive any benefits or practical assistance. I therefore had no income at all. This is also not unusual.
I was therefore not exempt, but also not in a position to hand over £20 per GP's appointment, at the time when I needed it most. My situation was not unusual at all. Also, I was ill. It's not the time to be dumping additional financial hardship onto people. This scheme may be designed to discourage the "worried well" from using up resources, but the people it will impact most are the people who are actually sick and in need of healthcare.
But Mr Furness's final, beautiful demonstration of idiocy had to be: "[he] said the think-tank was opposed to fees being levied on any form of emergency care."
The emergency care service has been creaking at the seams for years for various reasons, including the decreased "Out Of Hours" GP cover. Presented with a choice between phoning a free ambulance to come and visit you at home, or going out to attend a £20 GP appointment, what are most people going to do? I suspect that any savings Mr Furness's ideas might make GP-side would be dwarfed by the increased costs of emergency care.
Mind you, then he could get paid to write a report about how it would be a good idea to charge for that, as well.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Book Review
At the beginning of June, Tom Reynolds of Random Acts of Reality fame released his second book, More Blood, More Sweat and Another Cup of Tea (also known as BST2 for ease of tagging).
I eagerly ripped open the Amazon package, started reading, almost joined gentleman blogger extraordinaire Scaryduck in a typo-spotting spree, and announced my intention of doing a quick review just as soon as I got to the end...
... and suddenly lost more or less all of my ability with words. Seriously. In the last two months Steve's finished working, he's been off on holiday (biking/camping in Scotland), I've been off on holiday (back to Lowestoft to see friends and family), I've finished several knitting projects, I've enjoyed weekly excursions with my PA, been to a couple of parties and generally been living a pleasant and stimulating life, yet all I've managed to blog are a couple of half-baked rambles about my disability-enhanced shopping skillz0rs and a G1 app that I wish existed. I've also had difficulty reading, which is why it's taken me until now to finish BST2.
I'd be ashamed to admit that and probably would have brushed my intent to review under the carpet as "no longer relevant" if it wasn't for the fact that Tom is probably wondering why it has taken me so long to notice that he's been lovely enough to namecheck me in the acknowledgements as one of the regular commenters on his blog, and I'm therefore even more ashamed that I have not in fact been commenting at all since then.
Still. The book is now finished, and a review was promised, and so a review there shall be, half-baked ramble or otherwise.
The first thing about this book is that it's available for free online as well as for cash from Amazon and regular high-street bookshops. I quite like having a tangible copy, myself.
The second thing about this book is that it isn't really a "read it all in one go" kind of book - it's a series of self-contained blogpost-length entries with very little by way of continuity or story arcs. This makes it rubbish as a novel, but fantastic as a book for looking at for ten minutes at a time, while you wait for the bath to run or the oven to preheat. It would also be a good book for the bathroom (insert obligatory joke about soft pages) or to take on holiday, because it doesn't take an hour to "just finish the chapter" or "just see what happened to this person" while someone else is tapping their foot and waiting for you.
It is quite similar in many ways to the first book, as you would expect for an autobiographical account of the same job with the same company by the same person during the same decade. There is a slightly different feel to it though. The first book Tom was quite "angry young man", whereas in this one he seems more cynical, but also more stoical.
That said, if you haven't read the first book or the blog, then odds are you will start to get angry about some of the nonsense that Tom and his colleagues have to deal with day in, day out. I'm sure most of us could put forward a few stories about out-of-touch management, irrelevant targets, and clueless customers, but for most of us, there aren't lives hanging in the balance.
It's not all doom and despair, though. Tom's dry sense of humour provokes more than a few quiet chuckles, and there are plenty of positive encounters, often when least expected. So although you get caught up in the writing and grind your teeth about the morons with the inflated sense of entitlement, you also feel gratified when people's humanity shines through and absolutely jubilant when a life is saved.
Edited 12:08 12/07/09 to update link
I eagerly ripped open the Amazon package, started reading, almost joined gentleman blogger extraordinaire Scaryduck in a typo-spotting spree, and announced my intention of doing a quick review just as soon as I got to the end...
... and suddenly lost more or less all of my ability with words. Seriously. In the last two months Steve's finished working, he's been off on holiday (biking/camping in Scotland), I've been off on holiday (back to Lowestoft to see friends and family), I've finished several knitting projects, I've enjoyed weekly excursions with my PA, been to a couple of parties and generally been living a pleasant and stimulating life, yet all I've managed to blog are a couple of half-baked rambles about my disability-enhanced shopping skillz0rs and a G1 app that I wish existed. I've also had difficulty reading, which is why it's taken me until now to finish BST2.
I'd be ashamed to admit that and probably would have brushed my intent to review under the carpet as "no longer relevant" if it wasn't for the fact that Tom is probably wondering why it has taken me so long to notice that he's been lovely enough to namecheck me in the acknowledgements as one of the regular commenters on his blog, and I'm therefore even more ashamed that I have not in fact been commenting at all since then.
Still. The book is now finished, and a review was promised, and so a review there shall be, half-baked ramble or otherwise.
The first thing about this book is that it's available for free online as well as for cash from Amazon and regular high-street bookshops. I quite like having a tangible copy, myself.
The second thing about this book is that it isn't really a "read it all in one go" kind of book - it's a series of self-contained blogpost-length entries with very little by way of continuity or story arcs. This makes it rubbish as a novel, but fantastic as a book for looking at for ten minutes at a time, while you wait for the bath to run or the oven to preheat. It would also be a good book for the bathroom (insert obligatory joke about soft pages) or to take on holiday, because it doesn't take an hour to "just finish the chapter" or "just see what happened to this person" while someone else is tapping their foot and waiting for you.
It is quite similar in many ways to the first book, as you would expect for an autobiographical account of the same job with the same company by the same person during the same decade. There is a slightly different feel to it though. The first book Tom was quite "angry young man", whereas in this one he seems more cynical, but also more stoical.
That said, if you haven't read the first book or the blog, then odds are you will start to get angry about some of the nonsense that Tom and his colleagues have to deal with day in, day out. I'm sure most of us could put forward a few stories about out-of-touch management, irrelevant targets, and clueless customers, but for most of us, there aren't lives hanging in the balance.
It's not all doom and despair, though. Tom's dry sense of humour provokes more than a few quiet chuckles, and there are plenty of positive encounters, often when least expected. So although you get caught up in the writing and grind your teeth about the morons with the inflated sense of entitlement, you also feel gratified when people's humanity shines through and absolutely jubilant when a life is saved.
Edited 12:08 12/07/09 to update link
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Google does everything
except a very simple thing I want it to do.
I've spent weeks, on and off, trying to find something to quickly and easily calculate mileage when I'm out with my PA, so that I know how much petrol money to pay her, and I can't do it.
We mostly go to the same dozen or so locations, but not in the same order and not all in the same day. For instance, on week 1, we might go from my house to the doctor's and then to the bank and then to the swimming pool and then to the shop and then to my house. On week 2 we might go from my house to the bank and then to the library and then to the park and then to my house. On week 3 we might go from my house to the shop and then to the doctor and then to the park... you get the idea.
Currently I calculate mileage by typing all the locations into the Google Maps "get directions" thingy, and then confirming which one I mean for most of them, and then making sure all the dots are where they should be, and adding them up. It only takes ten minutes, and it works well because it plots a route that accounts for one-way systems and suchlike, but it's getting tedious because it's always the same places that I'm having to type in again and again and again, and I have to do it on-the-go or as soon as I get home because by that point I'm really tired and I can't depend on being able to remember exactly where we went post-nap.
I played with the google "My Maps" thing and put a handful of my regular locations into a "local places".
What I want to be able to do is open that up and then drag-and-drop the locations I went to on a given day from my "local places" map into the "get directions" boxes, click OK, and get a list that looks like this:
My House to Doctor: 0.6m
Doctor to Shops: 0.2m
Shops to Park: 2.6m
Park to My House: 3.0m
Total: 6.4m
... which I can just copy and paste into the mileage sheet ready to send off to the salary service each month.
I don't understand how there can be a google app to make my G1 look like a Star Trek tricorder, but not one to calculate mileage. Geeks have expenses claims too, right?
I've spent weeks, on and off, trying to find something to quickly and easily calculate mileage when I'm out with my PA, so that I know how much petrol money to pay her, and I can't do it.
We mostly go to the same dozen or so locations, but not in the same order and not all in the same day. For instance, on week 1, we might go from my house to the doctor's and then to the bank and then to the swimming pool and then to the shop and then to my house. On week 2 we might go from my house to the bank and then to the library and then to the park and then to my house. On week 3 we might go from my house to the shop and then to the doctor and then to the park... you get the idea.
Currently I calculate mileage by typing all the locations into the Google Maps "get directions" thingy, and then confirming which one I mean for most of them, and then making sure all the dots are where they should be, and adding them up. It only takes ten minutes, and it works well because it plots a route that accounts for one-way systems and suchlike, but it's getting tedious because it's always the same places that I'm having to type in again and again and again, and I have to do it on-the-go or as soon as I get home because by that point I'm really tired and I can't depend on being able to remember exactly where we went post-nap.
I played with the google "My Maps" thing and put a handful of my regular locations into a "local places".
What I want to be able to do is open that up and then drag-and-drop the locations I went to on a given day from my "local places" map into the "get directions" boxes, click OK, and get a list that looks like this:
My House to Doctor: 0.6m
Doctor to Shops: 0.2m
Shops to Park: 2.6m
Park to My House: 3.0m
Total: 6.4m
... which I can just copy and paste into the mileage sheet ready to send off to the salary service each month.
I don't understand how there can be a google app to make my G1 look like a Star Trek tricorder, but not one to calculate mileage. Geeks have expenses claims too, right?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Developing Specialist Skills
Speak to someone who acquired a disability and has had it for a few years, and there's a good chance they'll be keen to make sure you know it's not all bad. In fact, those of us who are a bit more... excitable... about the whole disability/equality issues "thing" (I include myself in this group) have perhaps a bit too much propensity to shove a firework of Positive Empowered Attitude up the backside of anyone suspected of misplaced sympathy or tragic admiration.
Part of this is sometimes to assert that you have learned things or gone places or met people that you wouldn't have done had it not been for your cripdom. But all too often these are either speculative (who's to say you wouldn't have met your wonderful partner if you'd remained walkie-talkie? who's to say you wouldn't have met someone else just as wonderful?), hard to quantify (how do you measure insight?), or irrelevant to a nondisabled audience (wheelchair breakdancing is impressive, but doesn't really connect for someone who's never used a wheelchair themselves).
But finally, today, I realised I had a definite, quantifiable skill, born of my disability and yet noticed and envied by a nondisabled person - my PA, who gazed at me with a baffled yet admiring look and asked "how do you DO that?"
I can shop. I can shop fast and yet I rarely have anything that I regret buying once I've got it home. I can spot a "possible" item from across the store, and once I'm closer I can very quickly assess whether it meets my requirements and whether I think it is worth the price on the tag. If yes, then I'll buy it (except in the case of clothes, which I still insist on trying on first - but only for fit, I'm always confident about whether or not it will suit me). If no, I'll put it down and forget about it.
It's probably a combination of all sorts of things, for example not wanting to waste my precious three hours by faffing about, not wanting to spend more spoons than I have to on any given activity, and having had the same tastes and 'style' for years. If wandering around the shops and trying on clothes was still a pain-free activity, I'd probably be doing a lot more of it. Disability has stopped me dithering.
Admittedly it is not a skill that will save the world - most things don't. But it's a knack I'm pleased to have developed.
Part of this is sometimes to assert that you have learned things or gone places or met people that you wouldn't have done had it not been for your cripdom. But all too often these are either speculative (who's to say you wouldn't have met your wonderful partner if you'd remained walkie-talkie? who's to say you wouldn't have met someone else just as wonderful?), hard to quantify (how do you measure insight?), or irrelevant to a nondisabled audience (wheelchair breakdancing is impressive, but doesn't really connect for someone who's never used a wheelchair themselves).
But finally, today, I realised I had a definite, quantifiable skill, born of my disability and yet noticed and envied by a nondisabled person - my PA, who gazed at me with a baffled yet admiring look and asked "how do you DO that?"
I can shop. I can shop fast and yet I rarely have anything that I regret buying once I've got it home. I can spot a "possible" item from across the store, and once I'm closer I can very quickly assess whether it meets my requirements and whether I think it is worth the price on the tag. If yes, then I'll buy it (except in the case of clothes, which I still insist on trying on first - but only for fit, I'm always confident about whether or not it will suit me). If no, I'll put it down and forget about it.
It's probably a combination of all sorts of things, for example not wanting to waste my precious three hours by faffing about, not wanting to spend more spoons than I have to on any given activity, and having had the same tastes and 'style' for years. If wandering around the shops and trying on clothes was still a pain-free activity, I'd probably be doing a lot more of it. Disability has stopped me dithering.
Admittedly it is not a skill that will save the world - most things don't. But it's a knack I'm pleased to have developed.
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.
Friday, May 15, 2009
eBay Ettiquette
For some reason I decided I was going to look at clothes on eBay last weekend. I don't especially need any new clothes, but I felt it wouldn't hurt to put on a few bids well within my "affordable" range. I searched specifically for brands where I already know what size will fit me, but that I can't normally afford to buy new.
On Monday, I won Top#1, a strappy party top which set me back £10 (plus £2 for p&P). I received the standard automated emails from eBay, paid with PayPal, and today, Friday, it dropped through my letterbox, safe and sound in a durable envelope.
So far so good. Except...
On Tuesday night, I won Top#2, which is an asymmetric 'everyday' kind of top and cost me £1.49 (plus £2.16 for p&p including recorded delivery). In addition to the standard automated emails, the seller sent a message to let me know she had posted the item and telling me the Tracking Number. Yesterday, Thursday, the package arrived. I opened the sensible waterproof envelope and pulled out the contents - but instead of cotton in my hands, there was paper. Neatly folded soft grey tissue paper, secured in three places with three tiny little shiny stickers. I actually wondered if maybe it wasn't an eBay purchase but a present! I undid the stickers and unwrapped it to find my new top, carefully pressed and folded and with a faint but pleasant smell.
Obviously I got straight on the computer to give the seller of Top#2 maximum positive feedback and also to send a thank you email.
But now I feel uneasy about feedback for Top#1. I mean, there was nothing wrong with that transaction, I don't have any complaints about it at all, I'd happily shop with them again. But then there's the Detailed Seller Ratings (DSRs).
As well as going 'above and beyond' in terms of presentation, the seller of Top#2 was clearly better than the seller of Top#1 in three of the DSR categories - communication (they told me when they had posted the top), dispatch time (the top arrived less than 48 hours after the auction closed), and postage and packaging charges (charged almost exactly the same, but for a superior signed-for postal service, and nicer packaging).
So, having joyfully given the really-made-one-hell-of-an-effort seller of Top#2 a perfect DSR of 5-5-5-5 on Thursday, can I really, on Friday, give the entirely-acceptable-but-nothing-special seller of Top#1 an identical perfect score?
But if I don't, am I being unfair to the seller of Top#1? According to eBay's Help pages, sellers who subscribe to Shops:
"... will be required to maintain the following minimum 12-month average DSR scores in each of the four areas:
Note: Failure to maintain these requirements will affect your Shops subscription, and you could be downgraded to a lower Shop tier with a different fee structure."
It's not like the seller of Top#1 has "failed" to provide an acceptable standard of service, and they shouldn't get downgraded just because I want to differentiate between 'good' and 'great' service.
Any eBay sellers want to give me their input?
On Monday, I won Top#1, a strappy party top which set me back £10 (plus £2 for p&P). I received the standard automated emails from eBay, paid with PayPal, and today, Friday, it dropped through my letterbox, safe and sound in a durable envelope.
So far so good. Except...
On Tuesday night, I won Top#2, which is an asymmetric 'everyday' kind of top and cost me £1.49 (plus £2.16 for p&p including recorded delivery). In addition to the standard automated emails, the seller sent a message to let me know she had posted the item and telling me the Tracking Number. Yesterday, Thursday, the package arrived. I opened the sensible waterproof envelope and pulled out the contents - but instead of cotton in my hands, there was paper. Neatly folded soft grey tissue paper, secured in three places with three tiny little shiny stickers. I actually wondered if maybe it wasn't an eBay purchase but a present! I undid the stickers and unwrapped it to find my new top, carefully pressed and folded and with a faint but pleasant smell.
Obviously I got straight on the computer to give the seller of Top#2 maximum positive feedback and also to send a thank you email.
But now I feel uneasy about feedback for Top#1. I mean, there was nothing wrong with that transaction, I don't have any complaints about it at all, I'd happily shop with them again. But then there's the Detailed Seller Ratings (DSRs).
As well as going 'above and beyond' in terms of presentation, the seller of Top#2 was clearly better than the seller of Top#1 in three of the DSR categories - communication (they told me when they had posted the top), dispatch time (the top arrived less than 48 hours after the auction closed), and postage and packaging charges (charged almost exactly the same, but for a superior signed-for postal service, and nicer packaging).
So, having joyfully given the really-made-one-hell-of-an-effort seller of Top#2 a perfect DSR of 5-5-5-5 on Thursday, can I really, on Friday, give the entirely-acceptable-but-nothing-special seller of Top#1 an identical perfect score?
But if I don't, am I being unfair to the seller of Top#1? According to eBay's Help pages, sellers who subscribe to Shops:
"... will be required to maintain the following minimum 12-month average DSR scores in each of the four areas:
- For a Featured Shop, maintain a DSR score of 4.4 or above
- For an Anchor Shop, maintain a DSR score of 4.6 or above
Note: Failure to maintain these requirements will affect your Shops subscription, and you could be downgraded to a lower Shop tier with a different fee structure."
It's not like the seller of Top#1 has "failed" to provide an acceptable standard of service, and they shouldn't get downgraded just because I want to differentiate between 'good' and 'great' service.
Any eBay sellers want to give me their input?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Isn't this nice?
Things are ticking over really well at the moment.
The main Thing I want to tell the world about is something I've wanted to say for a couple of months now but haven't dared in case it turned out to be temporary. But it's looking more and more permanent, so here we go: I am no longer actively seeking different employment.
The reason for this is that my role at work has been sort of shuffled. In a good way. The company I work for are doing really quite well at the moment, so we have a lot of orders being placed, lots of stock coming in and packages going out. The 'role creep' kind of started with an increase in the number of packages that had to be sent Signed For or Special Delivery, so instead of spending five minutes a day sitting in the office carefully writing addresses into books and putting barcode stickers onto packages, it was more like half an hour or so. Then we got an arrangement with ParcelForce for the increased numbers of high-value overseas packages, and of course such packages often require more detailed customs declarations than a single CD does, as well as the information having to be correctly entered into the online system. From there it was a short step to assigning me other "office based" tasks - the increased volume of orders and stock throughput means there's a lot more admin to be done and much of it doesn't require a knowledge of classical music, just a reasonable ability with computers and some basic admin skills, which I've already got.
Which brought me to a stage where, of my average four and a half hour working day, I spend about one hour doing ParcelForce and Signed For packages, two hours doing other admin tasks in the office, one hour helping pick and pack CDs in the Despatch room, and half an hour sorting out the documentation for the mail sacks to be collected by Royal Mail at the end of each day. I have a variety of tasks, some more challenging than others, all of which I am capable of performing, and some of which I quite enjoy (for a given value of workplace enjoyment). I am working for a company who took me on as a disabled person (but not because I was a disabled person) and have been 100% supportive of my needs for the eighteen months I've been there. I get to use my brain and yet I also get to wear jeans and trainers to work.
I was applying for other jobs because nice as the company was I didn't want to spend the rest of my life mindlessly putting CDs in boxes. Now it appears I've won the best of both worlds.
And then, cherry on the cake...
One of my regular tasks is to deal with "deletions". This is when a customer orders a CD that we don't have in stock, so we ask a record label supplier to send us a copy, and then they tell us that the title has been deleted from their catalogue and they don't have any copies left. My job is then to remove the deleted title from our system, remove the deleted title from the customer's order, refund the customer's credit card, and email the customer to apologise and explain what has happened. It's a disappointing email. Which is why I find it surprising that a healthy proportion of customers actually bother to email back. Not in a ranty way either, just along the lines of "okay, thanks for letting me know," which for some reason makes me feel really happy - I think it's simply the idea that people have been bothered to be so polite.
The main Thing I want to tell the world about is something I've wanted to say for a couple of months now but haven't dared in case it turned out to be temporary. But it's looking more and more permanent, so here we go: I am no longer actively seeking different employment.
The reason for this is that my role at work has been sort of shuffled. In a good way. The company I work for are doing really quite well at the moment, so we have a lot of orders being placed, lots of stock coming in and packages going out. The 'role creep' kind of started with an increase in the number of packages that had to be sent Signed For or Special Delivery, so instead of spending five minutes a day sitting in the office carefully writing addresses into books and putting barcode stickers onto packages, it was more like half an hour or so. Then we got an arrangement with ParcelForce for the increased numbers of high-value overseas packages, and of course such packages often require more detailed customs declarations than a single CD does, as well as the information having to be correctly entered into the online system. From there it was a short step to assigning me other "office based" tasks - the increased volume of orders and stock throughput means there's a lot more admin to be done and much of it doesn't require a knowledge of classical music, just a reasonable ability with computers and some basic admin skills, which I've already got.
Which brought me to a stage where, of my average four and a half hour working day, I spend about one hour doing ParcelForce and Signed For packages, two hours doing other admin tasks in the office, one hour helping pick and pack CDs in the Despatch room, and half an hour sorting out the documentation for the mail sacks to be collected by Royal Mail at the end of each day. I have a variety of tasks, some more challenging than others, all of which I am capable of performing, and some of which I quite enjoy (for a given value of workplace enjoyment). I am working for a company who took me on as a disabled person (but not because I was a disabled person) and have been 100% supportive of my needs for the eighteen months I've been there. I get to use my brain and yet I also get to wear jeans and trainers to work.
I was applying for other jobs because nice as the company was I didn't want to spend the rest of my life mindlessly putting CDs in boxes. Now it appears I've won the best of both worlds.
And then, cherry on the cake...
One of my regular tasks is to deal with "deletions". This is when a customer orders a CD that we don't have in stock, so we ask a record label supplier to send us a copy, and then they tell us that the title has been deleted from their catalogue and they don't have any copies left. My job is then to remove the deleted title from our system, remove the deleted title from the customer's order, refund the customer's credit card, and email the customer to apologise and explain what has happened. It's a disappointing email. Which is why I find it surprising that a healthy proportion of customers actually bother to email back. Not in a ranty way either, just along the lines of "okay, thanks for letting me know," which for some reason makes me feel really happy - I think it's simply the idea that people have been bothered to be so polite.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
BADD 2009 Roundup
Phew. As Blogging Against Disablism Day gets bigger, it gets harder to keep on top of it. There have been some 200 entries this year, all of which can be found here. I've read about 120 of them since yesterday morning and now I can take no more. I will make the effort to read the others over the next week or so, but the intensive effort has to stop now.
For those of you who, for some strange reason, don't want to turn your eyeballs inside out and spend your entire Bank Holiday Weekend reading 200 posts about disablism, I decided to do like I did last year and post a rather more easily-digestible handful of my favourite BADD posts.
Remember, I haven't read all the posts yet and this is my top five percent of the posts that I have read, so if yours isn't in there, please don't take it as any kind of slight... oh, and it doesn't include posts from the half-dozen or so BADD bloggers who I consider "friends" because I felt that might be somewhat biased.
Laura at Gin & Comment: "Mainstream" schooling and disablism. A peripatetic English teacher in Japan writes about the different ways schoolchildren respond to disability when different approaches to integrated schooling are applied.
Lauredhel at Hoyden About Town: Can I have a seat? Discusses practical access issues in and around shops and services, and the issues involved in trying to explain access needs that go beyond having a ramp somewhere.
Dora Raymaker at Autism - Change.org: Just Because I'm Quiet Doesn't Mean I Don't Understand. Required reading for those who assume that just because a person can't communicate verbally (or at all) and/or "looks disabled", it therefore means they can't understand what you are saying about them.
RachelCreative: When My Disability Is Invisible raises the problem of assumptions in the other direction - people assuming that you can do what they are demanding of you and that your requests for help or adjustments are merely contrariness that can be safely ignored. This post is accompanied by some of Rachel's own wonderful disability artwork.
Sanabitur Anima Mea: Mild and Severe disability. About dependence, interdependence, and 'degrees' of disability. As the writer says: "I don’t believe there’s anyone out there who has the special magical amount of severity which is enough to get your needs taken seriously but not so much you get considered worthless."
Astrid at Astrid's Journal: BADD Behavior: Disablism in Psychiatry. Raising the point that some behaviours considered undesirable by mental health professionals may not be a symptom of the patient's condition, but might be a sane and understandable response to the (wilful or incidental) dehumanising treatment imposed on patients by those professionals for their own convenience.
Tony at Cynical Chatter From The Underworld: Fear and Loathing in the UK. Cynical indeed, a dark post about the negative portrayal and poor treatment of disabled people in our society, and the lack of meaningful protections against the consequences of this.
Enjoy. I'm going to go remind myself what natural light is all about.
For those of you who, for some strange reason, don't want to turn your eyeballs inside out and spend your entire Bank Holiday Weekend reading 200 posts about disablism, I decided to do like I did last year and post a rather more easily-digestible handful of my favourite BADD posts.
Remember, I haven't read all the posts yet and this is my top five percent of the posts that I have read, so if yours isn't in there, please don't take it as any kind of slight... oh, and it doesn't include posts from the half-dozen or so BADD bloggers who I consider "friends" because I felt that might be somewhat biased.
Laura at Gin & Comment: "Mainstream" schooling and disablism. A peripatetic English teacher in Japan writes about the different ways schoolchildren respond to disability when different approaches to integrated schooling are applied.
Lauredhel at Hoyden About Town: Can I have a seat? Discusses practical access issues in and around shops and services, and the issues involved in trying to explain access needs that go beyond having a ramp somewhere.
Dora Raymaker at Autism - Change.org: Just Because I'm Quiet Doesn't Mean I Don't Understand. Required reading for those who assume that just because a person can't communicate verbally (or at all) and/or "looks disabled", it therefore means they can't understand what you are saying about them.
RachelCreative: When My Disability Is Invisible raises the problem of assumptions in the other direction - people assuming that you can do what they are demanding of you and that your requests for help or adjustments are merely contrariness that can be safely ignored. This post is accompanied by some of Rachel's own wonderful disability artwork.
Sanabitur Anima Mea: Mild and Severe disability. About dependence, interdependence, and 'degrees' of disability. As the writer says: "I don’t believe there’s anyone out there who has the special magical amount of severity which is enough to get your needs taken seriously but not so much you get considered worthless."
Astrid at Astrid's Journal: BADD Behavior: Disablism in Psychiatry. Raising the point that some behaviours considered undesirable by mental health professionals may not be a symptom of the patient's condition, but might be a sane and understandable response to the (wilful or incidental) dehumanising treatment imposed on patients by those professionals for their own convenience.
Tony at Cynical Chatter From The Underworld: Fear and Loathing in the UK. Cynical indeed, a dark post about the negative portrayal and poor treatment of disabled people in our society, and the lack of meaningful protections against the consequences of this.
Enjoy. I'm going to go remind myself what natural light is all about.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Well-meaning Insults
For Blogging Against Disablism Day 2009.
On April 13th, I posted to alert my readers to the annual Blogging Against Disablism Day event. I was umm-ing and aah-ing over what particular topic I should write about - and then, like a gift from the gods, came this comment:
hi mary--
have been reading your blog for a bit, & this is sort of a response to your wanting to have a kid with steve.
it makes me sad to read your struggles, but i would beg you to leave that idea (or even adoption or fostering behind.)
how on earth could you take care of a child when you spend most of your time seriously broken? you seem like a lovely person & to put a child in that position would be cruel no matter how much you craved being a mommy.
please be careful, stay on birth control & accept that your fate is to not be able to go down a maternal road.
best to you. sandy
My first thought was to write a blogpost (or fifty) explaining exactly how Steve and I intend to deal with some of the challenges posed by parenthood, the potential solutions we've discussed about logistics, equipment, safety, human support and so on. But why? This isn't a parenting blog, and until such time as Steve and I decide to take active steps to make a family, there's no good reason for it to become one. Justifying my life choices to internet strangers seems like a poor way to spend my time and energy.
That's when I started to become angry. Of all the topics covered on my blog, from knitting to job interviews, from Social Services to fun days out, how is it that a stranger feels the need to "respond" solely to the idea of Steve and I having a family together - an issue last mentioned several months previously and in the context of a 99 things blog meme?
Simple answer: Disablism.
This wasn't a personal attack on me, or even a well-meant but blundering remark on my life as an individual. It had very little to do with Mary, Batsgirl, aged 27 and living with a boyfriend and a robot vacuum cleaner.
Sandy wasn't thinking about my personal capabilities, or my personal circumstances, or my personal motivations - how could she? I'm hardly the world's most regular blogger and only a fraction of my life is displayed on here. She was writing about a stereotype of a disabled person, or as she put it, someone "seriously broken". When that stereotype was challenged by my offhand mention of a one-day ambition to have a family, she was so shocked by it that she felt the need to "beg" me not to do it.
Sandy was assuming that, as a couple which includes a disabled person, Steve and I would be unable to raise a child.
Sandy was assuming that Steve and I would be unable to consider our own circumstances and resources and make a sensible decision for ourselves, and that it was therefore perfectly okay for her to tell us what we should and should not do with our lives.
Sandy asked "how on earth could you take care of a child?" as a rhetorical question - she wasn't interested in waiting for (let alone listening to) any response before moving straight on to dictating my "fate" because she had already made up her mind that a disabled person such as myself cannot take care of a child.
Sandy cannot open her mind enough to consider that a child who has a disabled parent could be happy, comfortable, loved and well looked after. She considers disabled parents to be "cruel" for inflicting their horrible crippled selves on an innocent kiddie. I suspect she's thinking of the telethon image of a melancholy 'young carer' gazing soulfully out of the window and begging for their childhood back. This article by Lucy Scholl offers a different perspective, as does this one by Laurence Clark.
Sandy was writing about her own prejudices, her own unsubstantiated views, and her own baseless assumptions. Sandy was writing about her fears, her closed-mindedness, and her negative mental picture of disabled people - and then superimposing all that onto me to pre-emptively accuse me of child abuse.
That's disablism.
What's encouraging, though, is that the tide is turning. After responding to Sandy's horrendous comment, I tweeted about how gobsmacked I was, and within minutes support was arriving in the form of blog comments, tweets, emails and suchlike, much of it from friends who aren't politically- or disability-minded. More and more 'ordinary people' are becoming more and more accepting of the idea that a disabled person is every bit as much a person as one who is not yet disabled. As a civilisation we have a lot of that journey still ahead of us, but I take heart from the knowledge that significant steps have been and will continue to be made.
On April 13th, I posted to alert my readers to the annual Blogging Against Disablism Day event. I was umm-ing and aah-ing over what particular topic I should write about - and then, like a gift from the gods, came this comment:
hi mary--
have been reading your blog for a bit, & this is sort of a response to your wanting to have a kid with steve.
it makes me sad to read your struggles, but i would beg you to leave that idea (or even adoption or fostering behind.)
how on earth could you take care of a child when you spend most of your time seriously broken? you seem like a lovely person & to put a child in that position would be cruel no matter how much you craved being a mommy.
please be careful, stay on birth control & accept that your fate is to not be able to go down a maternal road.
best to you. sandy
My first thought was to write a blogpost (or fifty) explaining exactly how Steve and I intend to deal with some of the challenges posed by parenthood, the potential solutions we've discussed about logistics, equipment, safety, human support and so on. But why? This isn't a parenting blog, and until such time as Steve and I decide to take active steps to make a family, there's no good reason for it to become one. Justifying my life choices to internet strangers seems like a poor way to spend my time and energy.
That's when I started to become angry. Of all the topics covered on my blog, from knitting to job interviews, from Social Services to fun days out, how is it that a stranger feels the need to "respond" solely to the idea of Steve and I having a family together - an issue last mentioned several months previously and in the context of a 99 things blog meme?
Simple answer: Disablism.
This wasn't a personal attack on me, or even a well-meant but blundering remark on my life as an individual. It had very little to do with Mary, Batsgirl, aged 27 and living with a boyfriend and a robot vacuum cleaner.
Sandy wasn't thinking about my personal capabilities, or my personal circumstances, or my personal motivations - how could she? I'm hardly the world's most regular blogger and only a fraction of my life is displayed on here. She was writing about a stereotype of a disabled person, or as she put it, someone "seriously broken". When that stereotype was challenged by my offhand mention of a one-day ambition to have a family, she was so shocked by it that she felt the need to "beg" me not to do it.
Sandy was assuming that, as a couple which includes a disabled person, Steve and I would be unable to raise a child.
Sandy was assuming that Steve and I would be unable to consider our own circumstances and resources and make a sensible decision for ourselves, and that it was therefore perfectly okay for her to tell us what we should and should not do with our lives.
Sandy asked "how on earth could you take care of a child?" as a rhetorical question - she wasn't interested in waiting for (let alone listening to) any response before moving straight on to dictating my "fate" because she had already made up her mind that a disabled person such as myself cannot take care of a child.
Sandy cannot open her mind enough to consider that a child who has a disabled parent could be happy, comfortable, loved and well looked after. She considers disabled parents to be "cruel" for inflicting their horrible crippled selves on an innocent kiddie. I suspect she's thinking of the telethon image of a melancholy 'young carer' gazing soulfully out of the window and begging for their childhood back. This article by Lucy Scholl offers a different perspective, as does this one by Laurence Clark.
Sandy was writing about her own prejudices, her own unsubstantiated views, and her own baseless assumptions. Sandy was writing about her fears, her closed-mindedness, and her negative mental picture of disabled people - and then superimposing all that onto me to pre-emptively accuse me of child abuse.
That's disablism.
What's encouraging, though, is that the tide is turning. After responding to Sandy's horrendous comment, I tweeted about how gobsmacked I was, and within minutes support was arriving in the form of blog comments, tweets, emails and suchlike, much of it from friends who aren't politically- or disability-minded. More and more 'ordinary people' are becoming more and more accepting of the idea that a disabled person is every bit as much a person as one who is not yet disabled. As a civilisation we have a lot of that journey still ahead of us, but I take heart from the knowledge that significant steps have been and will continue to be made.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Is this the right target?
"Business leaders have called for a minimum wage freeze as part of measures to help private industry drive the economy out of recession."
Business Leader: Someone who is not attempting to live on minimum wage.
Minimum Wage: In the UK, for people over 22 years of age, £5.73 per hour. In real terms* a minimum-wage full-time worker has about £20 more per week in their pocket than someone on state benefits, which are defined as the minimum amount the government says a person needs to live on.
The cost of living is rising and basic essentials like accommodation, food, water and fuel are becoming more and more expensive. The problem is... let's say that in the next year the cost of these necessities rises by £500 overall. A Business Leader might have to cut back on luxuries - perhaps one less meal out per month, or one less holiday per year, to cover that. They'll still have a pretty good quality of life. A Minimum Wage Worker, on the other hand, doesn't have that many luxuries to cut. They're already on the poverty line.
I don't know what the way out of the recession is, but I feel certain that it shouldn't be the people who are working their backsides off for a tiny wage who get kicked in the shorts in the name of saving the economy.
* For a full-time worker, minimum wage is £212 per week. This is about £60 a week more than a single person's state benefits of approximately £150pw (comprised of Housing Benefit (~£70pw), Council Tax Benefit (~£20pw) and Jobseeker's Allowance (£60.50pw)) but must also cover things like prescriptions and dental work (free for people on income-related benefit) as well as additional work-related expenses such as suitable work clothing, transport to and from work, and of course tax.
Business Leader: Someone who is not attempting to live on minimum wage.
Minimum Wage: In the UK, for people over 22 years of age, £5.73 per hour. In real terms* a minimum-wage full-time worker has about £20 more per week in their pocket than someone on state benefits, which are defined as the minimum amount the government says a person needs to live on.
The cost of living is rising and basic essentials like accommodation, food, water and fuel are becoming more and more expensive. The problem is... let's say that in the next year the cost of these necessities rises by £500 overall. A Business Leader might have to cut back on luxuries - perhaps one less meal out per month, or one less holiday per year, to cover that. They'll still have a pretty good quality of life. A Minimum Wage Worker, on the other hand, doesn't have that many luxuries to cut. They're already on the poverty line.
I don't know what the way out of the recession is, but I feel certain that it shouldn't be the people who are working their backsides off for a tiny wage who get kicked in the shorts in the name of saving the economy.
* For a full-time worker, minimum wage is £212 per week. This is about £60 a week more than a single person's state benefits of approximately £150pw (comprised of Housing Benefit (~£70pw), Council Tax Benefit (~£20pw) and Jobseeker's Allowance (£60.50pw)) but must also cover things like prescriptions and dental work (free for people on income-related benefit) as well as additional work-related expenses such as suitable work clothing, transport to and from work, and of course tax.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Blogging Against Disablism Day will be on 1st May, 2009
Once again, the excellent Goldfish is hosting Blogging Against Disablism Day on May 1st 2009.
This will be the fourth year running for BADD (see archives of 2006, 2007, and 2008) and the second year I am participating. Well, I say second. My 2008 post is here. Technically I was around for 2007 but I wasn't in a fit state to write anything, and that could happen again, we'll see (currently I am drafting posts and then deciding they're rubbish, it'll be a minor miracle if I even publish this BADD reminder). Of course if anybody wanted to suggest a particular topic or news story for me to pull to bits, get me started, that might help. But better yet would be writing your own post and joining in - you don't have to be disabled and it's fun to be a part of the whole shebang.
This will be the fourth year running for BADD (see archives of 2006, 2007, and 2008) and the second year I am participating. Well, I say second. My 2008 post is here. Technically I was around for 2007 but I wasn't in a fit state to write anything, and that could happen again, we'll see (currently I am drafting posts and then deciding they're rubbish, it'll be a minor miracle if I even publish this BADD reminder). Of course if anybody wanted to suggest a particular topic or news story for me to pull to bits, get me started, that might help. But better yet would be writing your own post and joining in - you don't have to be disabled and it's fun to be a part of the whole shebang.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
More PA Stuff
Wednesday was my second session with my PA. We went to the Pump Rooms in Leamington which is a sort of combination of art gallery, museum, library, tourist information desk, cafe, and function rooms. It was interesting, but in a slightly weird way.
We were wandering around looking at all the exhibits about the history of Leamington Spa, and of course a lot of that is information about, you know, the actual Spa part of it. Some of the more experimental equipment looked downright scary, but a lot of the descriptions made the spa experience seem like a lovely way to spend a day. The Victorian visitors to the spa would drink lots of water (although apparently it didn't taste very nice), and then you'd have a soak in this and a massage with that and a steam treatment over here and then you'd go through to a cooler room and relax on a sort of sun-lounger while someone brought you a drink and a snack. The place was purpose-built and therefore extraordinarily accessible, since a big chunk of the target market would by definition be elderly or infirm and therefore being wheeled about the place. However it is also beautiful, since another important aspect of its function was to be a pleasant and relaxing environment rather than a clinical one. Afterwards, you went across the road to Jephson Gardens to enjoy the gentle recreation and surroundings.
God, it sounded like bliss, the absolute art of relaxation. Which was the weird bit. To be a disabled and kind of stressed-out (don't ask) person, sitting in an accessible hydrotherapy and relaxation facility, which is no longer in use but gets given money to produce displays and information about how fabulous it once was...
I still haven't got the hang of having a PA yet, though. The problem isn't her - she's lovely and doing really well. I just can't seem to get my head around having an employee.
For example. On Wednesday, when we got back from our outing, I was feeling pretty rough, and I wanted a cup of tea. So while my PA brought in the wheelchair, I shuffled through to the kitchen and started trying to make a cuppa. I was visibly and obviously having trouble, and my PA asked if I'd like her to do it. Full marks to her for asking rather than muscling in. But I messed up - I autoresponded with "no, no, I can manage" just like I would if a friend was there.
But my PA is not there as a friend. She's there as an employee. Helping me with the normal stuff (like tea-making) that is difficult or painful for me to attempt to do is not an additional favour that I would be unreasonably demanding of a friend who has already put themselves out for me by taking me out. It is the entire reason she is there and is what she is getting paid for. It is unfair of me as an employer to expect her to stand around like a lemon watching me struggle when she is aware that her job description is to help me so that I don't have to struggle.
I really have to try and get to grips with the whole idea. Intellectually I get it, but in a more immediate sense, it's just... I get through my life by insisting that I am capable of being independent, that I can Do Things, although they might be more difficult or take longer. In my day-to-day life I do any number of things that are stupid or reckless or painful simply because they need doing and no one else is likely to do them - like hanging up laundry or heating up food or washing up dishes - and then I fall over or spill stuff or scald myself or break something - and then I basically yell at myself to stop being such a useless pansy and get the hell on with things. But it gets worse, because then on the occasions when I am offered help, I push it away! For instance, I'm so sick of people assuming that Steve does everything for me and waits on me hand and foot, that I overcompensate in trying to make sure he doesn't do anything of the sort. It's even worse with people I don't know well. Admitting I can't do stuff and asking for help is like doing a DLA form. I hate it. It makes me feel vulnerable. It's also really irrational and I need to find a way of sorting it out.
We were wandering around looking at all the exhibits about the history of Leamington Spa, and of course a lot of that is information about, you know, the actual Spa part of it. Some of the more experimental equipment looked downright scary, but a lot of the descriptions made the spa experience seem like a lovely way to spend a day. The Victorian visitors to the spa would drink lots of water (although apparently it didn't taste very nice), and then you'd have a soak in this and a massage with that and a steam treatment over here and then you'd go through to a cooler room and relax on a sort of sun-lounger while someone brought you a drink and a snack. The place was purpose-built and therefore extraordinarily accessible, since a big chunk of the target market would by definition be elderly or infirm and therefore being wheeled about the place. However it is also beautiful, since another important aspect of its function was to be a pleasant and relaxing environment rather than a clinical one. Afterwards, you went across the road to Jephson Gardens to enjoy the gentle recreation and surroundings.
God, it sounded like bliss, the absolute art of relaxation. Which was the weird bit. To be a disabled and kind of stressed-out (don't ask) person, sitting in an accessible hydrotherapy and relaxation facility, which is no longer in use but gets given money to produce displays and information about how fabulous it once was...
I still haven't got the hang of having a PA yet, though. The problem isn't her - she's lovely and doing really well. I just can't seem to get my head around having an employee.
For example. On Wednesday, when we got back from our outing, I was feeling pretty rough, and I wanted a cup of tea. So while my PA brought in the wheelchair, I shuffled through to the kitchen and started trying to make a cuppa. I was visibly and obviously having trouble, and my PA asked if I'd like her to do it. Full marks to her for asking rather than muscling in. But I messed up - I autoresponded with "no, no, I can manage" just like I would if a friend was there.
But my PA is not there as a friend. She's there as an employee. Helping me with the normal stuff (like tea-making) that is difficult or painful for me to attempt to do is not an additional favour that I would be unreasonably demanding of a friend who has already put themselves out for me by taking me out. It is the entire reason she is there and is what she is getting paid for. It is unfair of me as an employer to expect her to stand around like a lemon watching me struggle when she is aware that her job description is to help me so that I don't have to struggle.
I really have to try and get to grips with the whole idea. Intellectually I get it, but in a more immediate sense, it's just... I get through my life by insisting that I am capable of being independent, that I can Do Things, although they might be more difficult or take longer. In my day-to-day life I do any number of things that are stupid or reckless or painful simply because they need doing and no one else is likely to do them - like hanging up laundry or heating up food or washing up dishes - and then I fall over or spill stuff or scald myself or break something - and then I basically yell at myself to stop being such a useless pansy and get the hell on with things. But it gets worse, because then on the occasions when I am offered help, I push it away! For instance, I'm so sick of people assuming that Steve does everything for me and waits on me hand and foot, that I overcompensate in trying to make sure he doesn't do anything of the sort. It's even worse with people I don't know well. Admitting I can't do stuff and asking for help is like doing a DLA form. I hate it. It makes me feel vulnerable. It's also really irrational and I need to find a way of sorting it out.
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