POST BEGUN MON 25 MAY 2026 1228HRS BST

 

THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE

 

Sigh. Being married to Asperger's is challenging. Latest (ok, on-going) challenge? Housing.

 

Long story short my darling Aspie and I agreed an end to my deeply held cherished dream of moving to a slightly bigger home so I can stop living in the living room and get a second bedroom and bath (shower room, I am tired of risking a fall climbing in and out of these British ridiculously high and deep bathtubs with shower over). We've instead agreed a major renovation and 2 small extensions to our current home. 

 

Complete re-wire including raising the mains outlets to hip-height (no. more. bending. to plug in the vacuum, no more snaking lamps and components cables behind furniture I can't move...). 

 

Walk-in shower cabinet and a stacking clothes washer-dryer in the bathroom, conversion of one of the cupboards in the study (sigh, formerly the sole bedroom in this bloody little shoebox cottage) to a WC and hand-wash basin he can shave at. Kitchen footprint retained with better appliance placement (raised oven, 2-hob cooktop, narrow side-by-side fridge-freezer), easy-clean laminate worktops and equally easy clean cabinetry as pull-out under-worktop drawers and pull-down uppers. Bifold doors to enclose the rear porch (which will cut energy bills:) and I can use as a mini-home gym.

 

The two extensions? One at the front as a good old fashioned New England style storm porch and the second as a small conservatory off the side of the living room - close to the kitchen and will be used as a dining room.

 

Sigh. Now we wait for plans to be drawn up and then planning permission to be granted. And then finding and trusting a reliable team of renovation stars.

 

The only reason I agreed to this rather than the easier-simpler move to a turn-key property? My adorable Aspie came close to tears whilst informing me another house move would kill him. 

 

Why in the hell didn't he tell me during the run-up to the last house move he'd suffered chest pains and multiple panic attacks until yesterday during playback of the taped F1 sprint and qualies highlights??!! I feel like a monster over both about my stoopid heart thingies mandating to that move and my push to find a slightly bigger house now.  

 

 Once he made that confession (and we got past the 'WHY didn't you say anything?!' bit), we talked, really talked and the end result was the compromise of 'doing-up' this house to avoid a house move whilst giving me the important things (except a bedroom, heigh ho, I'll make do with a large flat-pack wardrobe and daybed to double as a sofa during the day).

 

The things we do for love.  

 

POSTED MON 25 MAY 2026 1313HRS BST 

 

 

FRI 8 MAY 2026 POST BEGUN 1004HRS BST

 

Happy 22nd birthday to my eldest grand, finding it a wee bit shocking and totally joyous I have a 22yo grandson! His cousin, No2 of my three grandsons, will be 21 in July. And the eldest grandson is big brother of youngest grandson who will be four in October. I love being a grandma (three grandsons, two granddaughters)!

 

Meanwhile we here in the UK are running the election coverage in the background as we await news of how the vote turns out in our particular area. So far Reform is scooping up seats from Labour and Conservatives down in England with our Scottish results not expected until later this afternoon (estimated to be announced at 1600hrs/4pm our time today). 

 

I stood in the too-short queue to vote yesterday asking myself 'Why am I bothering, what is the point, my idiotic fellow Scots almost certainly will tick the SNP or Scottish Labour boxes and my Reform votes will be a futile exercise in protest voting. Reached the front of the queue, went in, got my ballots and nonetheless ticked both boxes for Reform. We'll see but I'm not holding my breath.

 

I'm succeeding at my reorganisation project (formerly known as 'decluttering'). The current uncertainty around motor fuel and 'the cost of living' (meaning sky rocketing petrol-utilities-food prices - omfgosh!) means things I have realised I can do without have to be stacked and tarp covered on the back porch in hope that one day we'll be able to hire a car to lug all this to the skip and charity shops. 

 

I finally forced myself to understand the best Christmas planning is to go with one each warm-white prelit green and flocked 2ft PE trees, one colour tree baubles and matching tree toppers, simple mantle garland and Holy Family sculpture with the Advent Wreath as the dinner table centrepiece - it all fits into one bag. The rest is now in four bags out in the shed because dangit hope floats one day we'll be in a slightly bigger home and my 4ft Balsam Hill tree will once again be star of the show. HEY! A girl can dream, can't she?!

 

It took me two weeks to sort through 15 years of accumulated Christmas 'stuff', and I was surprised to discover half of it all elicited 'What the bloody hell was I thinking when I made/bought THAT?!'. Hopefully the charity shops will be thrilled to have that to flog. 

 

The rest of it went into two piles - one being the mini things including single colour sets (green, blue, red, gold) for use in my new 'midmalism' scheme. 'Midmalism' being a step between max and mini malism). The second pile was for decor I can't bear to part with. 

 

Well, you know, one thing leads to another. I somewhat ruthlessly went through ALL the seasonal decor (four seasons plus Halloween and Easter) and pared all that down as well. Paul is of course over the moon, he is a minimalist to the core. I think he'd be fine with one chair, one plate, one...

 

Still doing brain challenge things, I'm currently massively hooked on word search puzzle books. My Essential Tremor and the gerontology medics encouraged me to take up colouring-in books as well. Oh. Dear. I now own several sets of watercolour pens and I've lost count of how many colouring books I have. Whilst awaiting a miracle (a move to a slightly bigger home with two bathrooms) I content myself with 'painting' colouring book images of rooms and gardens. BONUS: I now know my favourite colour is Autumn. 

 

And yes, I'm still at the maths thing. I have found I am great at addition and subtraction but if I don't reinforce the multiplication and division bits every single day, I 'lose' those two vital skills. 

 

My cardiologist is impatiently waiting out my current pericarditis flare to put me in cardiac rehab. He wants me to do the rehab programme for people with my unique heart 'challenges' but won't refer me until this latest stupid flare is sufficiently passed. I love he calls all the heart thingies 'challenges' although I do have to wonder if he means treating my complex set of conditions is more challenging for him than for me. Any road, he found me a no-incline treadmill and a compact rowing machine, both to be ordered once the rehab stint is completed. And while he's not thrilled to hear I have a balance rocker and a set of hand-weights (he still thinks I'm going to push myself during the flare recovery period - hahahahahahaha, hey Doc, this ain't my first rodeo!) he is ok with me having those items as long as I promise not to use them until he gives the go-ahead.

 

Oh nice, an election update just hit, Reform is mopping up the political floor:) Nice. Nice. Nice. 

 

 

POST BEGUN SAT 14 MAR 2026 1216HRS GMT

 

Bloody hell, it's all kicking off here with what is feeling more and more a catastrophic cascade of troubles on numerous fronts, from the Labour 'government' complicit in fostering islamic extremist terror attacks (currently focusing on Jewish Britons but openly admitting they will come for 'the non-believers' once they've killed all the Jews) to war in the Middle East. 

 

Naturally our idiot craven 'prime minister' is at pains to 'reassure' his muslim mates 'We did not participate in the US and Israeli strikes against Iran' thinking the nutters will accept his cowardice and thereby spare us. Meanwhile 'lone wolf' and 'sleeper cell' attacks here and abroad are escalating in frequency and severity of damage. 

 

Paul and I would love for all this to 'just blow over' but all this feels more like an inevitability now. 

 

POSTED SAT 14 MAR 2026 1252 HRS GMT 

 

 

TUESDAY 24 FEB 2026 POST BEGUN 1413HRS GMT

 

Home stretch in sight, decluttering in a big way nearly finished. I'm using a weird combination of the Marie Kondo 'KonMari' and Swedish Death Cleaning methods, plus good old fashioned common sense (vastly underrated, common sense is) and it's working nicely. I am having to do it on the QT to keep Paul from 'helping' (aka hindering), though, and I'm running out of places to store the things awaiting disposal (to charity shops and the skip) out of his sight. Spring is coming, we'll be able to hire a car to cart the clutter away, I just hope I can keep a lid on things until Spring.

 

Why wait until Spring to hire the car? Because we live in NE Scotland and both of us hate driving in winter. Hitting black ice even at low speed is not fun and we live in an area well known for black ice formation. Black ice combined with most of our roads in this area not being high gritting priority. Even before giving up the car in 2020something, we'd learned to spend the Autumn preparing for winter including getting in household goods (and food) and scheduling doctor and dentist appointments before winter sets in so we didn't have to be out and about except quick walks to the nearby shops between rain and snow and ice storms.

 

So we hire a car for a week in Spring and mid-Autumn. The past few years the main focus has been charity shop and skip runs with a few day trips to local attractions sandwiched in. I'm hoping the Spring car hire is the final decluttering push so the Autumn car hire can be all day trips. Hope floats.

 

Btw, I'm still praying for a slightly bigger house. Despite looking at certain things (oh ok, kitchen gadgets) and asking myself why the hell I bought THAT, there are things I shed tears over when I force myself to put something in the 'get rid box' that I really really really do not want to give up but have to because I simply do not have room for whatever it is I'm crying about having to part with.

 

It's difficult to be ruthless even when it's a safety issue - yes, I sobbed my heart out sending the electric carving knife and meat slicer to the charity shop but Essential Tremor made both impossible for me to use safely. I hate to admit nipping my fingers trying to fit the electric carving knife blades back on, and very nearly slicing off a finger on the meat slicing machine had to happen twice before I caved to reality.

 

But. But I am becoming stronger - I only needed three Kleenex to cope with the tears (and runny nose) when I sent a huge amount of my craft supplies to the charity shop boxes. The tremor has advanced to the point beading and paper- are impossible even with work-arounds. Embroidery by hand and machine sewing are still possible so there is that.

 

Still, back to kitchen gadgets, the tremor is now so bad I've had to give up peeling and dicing potatoes for mash and I can see the days of homemade potato salad ending sooner rather than later. I'm ok with having to use frozen mashed potatoes - LOL, the potatoes come as finger sized pellets, you put them in a microwave safe bowl with unsalted butter pats and nuke 'em for ten or so minutes - as long as you have plenty of sour cream, frozen mash isn't all that bad. I'm not ok with buying store made potato salad (too many recalls!), though, so I may have to teach Paul how to properly (read hygienically) peel and dice potatoes if we want genuine Deep South Church Potluck quality potato salad. Paul has Asperger's and doesn't take instruction well so potato salad may be off the menu. sigh

 

POSTED TUESDAY 24 FEB 2026 1503HRS GMT

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday 7 January 2026 post begun 1605hrs (4:05pm) GMT

 

It's THAT day. First thing this morning I removed the front door wreath, pulled the candle bridge from the front window, packed away the holly berries candle holders, the Christmas stockings, the Skandi Father Christmas, and the wooden block count-down calendar. I un-decorated the Christmas Tree - good heavens that was quickly done! The hardest part of the tree un-decorating was carefully removing the light string. 

 

About those lights - the set was sold as 'cluster' but arrived as single spikes. Not what I'd wanted but nice enough so we used them and will use them again. 

 

My decision to use one colour baubles on the tree ended up being rather nice.

 

We liked the way it turned out so well we will do this one colour scheme again Christmas 2026 in red. Or blue. 

 

(if Russia doesn't nuke us before then thanks to Two-Tier Keir signing an agreement with the rest of the ridiculously named 'coalition of the willing' to put British boots on Ukraine soil IF a peace agreement is reached. Oh, and the USCG seizing that Venezuelan tanker off the coast of Iceland - a vessel reflagged as Russian midway through voyage and the subsequent news British military assisted the Americans - the Russians aren't happy about that, either.)

 

All in the whole process took two hours, from un-decorating to closing the boxes and putting them into the storage bags then taking the bags out to the insulated shed. Not bad considering it used to take me days to fully un-Christmas the house. 

 

posted 7 Jan 2026 1635hrs GMT 

 

 

 

Wednesday 31 Dec 2025 post begun 1449hrs GMT (2:49pm)

 

Welp, that's 2025 nearly over, nine hours to go on what has been something of a dismal year for us Brits thanks to the horrors inflicted on us by the totalitarian Labour 'government'. And islamic terrorism. And ever increasing anti-Jewish hate (not all of it owing to spreading islamic hatred and violence against Jews including here in Britain).

 

I pray every night for deliverance from Labour and islam. In vain, it feels, when a cretin like el-Fattah is wide-open-arms welcomed to the UK by our idiot 'leaders'. A few days ago I heard a Labour apologist admit all his Jewish friends and acquaintances have BOBs (bug out bags) in their front hallway in case they need to flee.  

 

Labour is also 'encouraging' (read as 'forcing') councils to turn over new-build and refurbished council housing to 'migrants' (read as illegal migrants who've pitched up to the UK without documents and visas). Meanwhile British homeless are rough sleeping or sofa surfing and British families who have been on council housing lists for years have been bumped to the back of the queue.

 

And Labour has cancelled (again) several local elections, this time effectively disenfranchising close to eight million voters from their democratic right to vote for local governance. 

 

Honestly most of us are not optimistic about 2026 being better - Labour has been hit with scandal after scandal after scandal since taking No.10 in July 2024 yet somehow they cling on. 

 

So, goodbye 2025 and may God save us in 2026 - sooner the better, Lord, please! 

 

 

Post begun 1443hrsGMT MONDAY 1 Dec 2025 

 

Oh damn. Long story short, I bought a WIP (Work In Progress) bag promising to be the 'perfect WIP bag' prefilled with lots of nifty knitting and crochet tools - including several aluminium crochet hooks and several more 'ergonomic crochet hooks'. 

 

Bag arrived. Bag is actually nice and will be a handy little WIP bag. Nifty tools turn out to be cheap rubbish for the most part ('safety scissors' won't cut, locking stitch markers so brittle they break if you dare look at them much less try to use them, plastic tape measure inaccurately marked...) but the aluminium hooks are brilliant. I was going to donate the 'ergonomic crochet hooks' to the local Red Cross charity shop...

 

And then I thought 'I'll  give them a try, who knows, perhaps I no longer hate the clumsy fumbly hooks.' Then I laughed because every time I've tried those hooks in the past my Essential Tremor got in the way. In a great big fat hairy way. 

 

And, well, I don't hate ergonomic crochet hooks any longer, in fact I now love them so much this morning I ordered the sizes not included in the bag set I received Sunday (gotta love EVRi, our regular AND his subs are SO good!).  

 

What happened was, I am working on a lapghan so I switched my beloved HiyaHiya 5.5mm aluminium hook for the ergonomic 5.5mm one thinking yeah, five minutes and I'll switch back... Oh. Five hours later (no really, five hours later) I realised I was still crocheting with that ergonomic hook and had watched a Nicholas Cage movie (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent) AND the Qatar GP (WOOT, Max Verstappen won the Qatar GP last night!),  and my arthritic hands felt great - not a twinge or spasm or any other reminder I've had arthritis since childhood - and BONUS, my Essential Tremor not only didn't get in the way, the ET seemed to like the slight weight increase and 'fatter' hook shaft of the ergonomic style. 

 

Well who knew that was going to happen?! I damn sure didn't. But honestly the ergonomic hooks are serious game changing tools and I'm glad I gave them a go. BONUS - the set I received Sunday includes the tiny stainless steel thread hooks all neatly cushioned and weighted - WOOT, filet crochet here I come again!

 

I'm going to have to retire all my lovely HiyaHiya aluminium hooks (sob) and all my Milward ones and all my Boyd ones (yeah, I think I have over 150 aluminium crochet hooks all together - I have grandchildren so I'm keeping those hooks). I'll polish them regularly remembering to thank them for the years of service despite the arthritic pain using those hooks inflicted. 

 

Christmas came early with that set of ergonomic hooks. Yippee!

 

Speaking of Christmas, we're fluffing the PE green tree - it's not going well so the lights won't go on before tomorrow if then. Sigh. 

 

Posted 1513hrsGMT MONDAY 1 Dec 2025

 

 

 

 

POST BEGUN 0802HRS GMT SATURDAY 22 NOVEMBER 2025

 

62 years. I can still smell the unique classroom 'fragrance' of Elmer's Glue and Catholic Press textbook binding. 

 

We'd just come back in from recess, lunch was at least an hour off so we were getting our math books out. 

 

The door opened, I can still see the young novitiate enter Sr Mary Aloysius second grade classroom and hurry to Sister's desk to lean down to Sister's ear. It has been 62 years but I can still hear Sister's gasp over the soft sobs of the novitiate and I can still hear the shock and panic in Sister's voice as she told us to take out our Rosaries and go to our knees to pray God spared the life of President Kennedy.

 

We were in the second decade of that Rosary when Mother Superior pulled open the classroom door to bark into the room 'All pupils to the church quick and orderly!' 

 

Monseigneur English (62 years on and I still remember his name, his appearance, his voice) finally mounted the lectern to tell us we should now pray for the repose of President Kennedy's soul, for the strength and comfort of his widow and children, and most fervently for the USA. The older kids (the school went from first through 9th grade) whispered and were overheard, the word President Kennedy had died went through the large church like a summer wildfire out on the pine forests near Big Bear.

 

Soon nuns were fetching children, in family groups, from the pews, releasing us to parents or high school aged siblings (my older sister, a high school senior slated to be entering the convent after graduation, collected my eighth grade brother, first grade sister, and second grade me and then waited for our ride back out to the ranch in front of the church). 

 

Nothing was ever the same again after that day when President Kennedy was murdered, nothing. For five days solid, 24 hours a day, the only thing on television and radio was coverage of the horror unfolding. We saw it all including some of it live (Oswald's death, President Kennedy lying in State then the funeral, Walter Cronkite breaking into tears not once but several times over the next week). Our parents, hell every adult in our lives, everyone changed and the truth is in a way none of us children were able to articulate for decades, we changed forever. 

 

For many of us (although not me as sadly my family had endured losses and I'd been to family funerals), the televised funeral was the first time we'd ever seen children our age publicly mourn such a tragic loss. I don't even need to close my eyes to see little John-John saluting JFK's coffin, and I can still see Caroline holding her mother's hand as they came down the steps. She is so close to my age (only a year younger) that I grieved for her losing her father, at the time (and ever since) I couldn't help feeling deeply for a girl my age who'd lost her dad so very young.

 

As always this past 62 years, on 22nd November it is Caroline I think of, especially now her wee brother has been gone (16th July 1999), but even when he was still alive it was Caroline I prayed for on the 22nd of November.  I thought of her every year, I do this year, and I will continue to do so. I was 28yo when my dad passed away and I still feel it every year (21st December 1985) and honestly I know a loss like that (a much loved parent) is simply not something you get over or get past. If you're strong enough you get through it but it leaves a mark that never goes away. 

 

Posted 0842hrs Saturday 22nd November 2025

 

 

 

 

Friday 7 November 2025 POST BEGUN:1030hrs 

 

It's normal - opinions and tastes change over time. It's normal that what I liked in the 80s is miles in the rear-view mirror and I have hugely different taste in 2025. Partly down to evolving opinions and partly down to 'what the bloody hell was I thinking back then, OMFGoodness, those clothes/hair/wallpapers/furniture fabrics were AWFUL!!'.

 

This time of year it's all about seasonal decor, taste-wise. Once upon a time I loved a few straw bales on the front porch adorned with a life size scarecrow, plastic Indian Corn, pumpkins and wheat sprays (weather safe after waking one autumn morning to crows breakfasting on the live display before what they left rotted and went whiffy). I did a Halloween display people slowed the car to observe and the bonfire at the end of the drive on Halloween night while I attended to Trick or Treaters from my lawn chair became an annual neighbourhood event. Indoors I decked every room of the house with something seasonal. Every room even the bathroom.

 

Christmas?  Oh, CHRISTMAS - I loved our carefully chosen blow-moulds -light-up Santa and reindeer, the snowman with his carrot nose that also lit up, the artfully hung Christmas lights. Our indoors looked like the Father Christmas Grotto I loved so much when visiting Mum's favourite department store, and I had a mould-proof wreath I used around the bathroom mirror complete with polyurethaned clothes peg reindeer and a fake velvet bow. The Christmas tree, some years 6+ft and other years table-toppers, gaily decorated with handmade decorations of all sorts. Theme? What theme, our trees were loaded with tiny bird houses and gingham wrapped balls and small gift tags (Edwardian images) and decorations made by Fox and his older sister through their school years. If there was anything like a theme, the theme was anti-theme cosy because I thought those deliberate themes vulgar and pretentious.

 

When I moved permanently to the UK and married Paul I came across with two large suitcases - all the seasonal decor left after Hurricane Ivan went to my son, his ex-wife, and charity when I came over. The only things I brought besides some clothes were sewing and crochet supplies.  

 

But yeppers, it is now time to talk Christmas 2025:) Firstly I should mention when I got here to Scotland the only Christmas decoration Paul had was a single plastic fruit and pine spray (a small single, I add) and a strand of 30yo 'fairy lights'. Oh. Dear.

 

That first year I gathered larch cones (none bigger than one inch long) and glue-slopped some glitter snow across the bristles. Actually looked rather pretty on the 2ft Fraser Fir we bought live at the local ironmonger. 

 

Over the years the seasonal decor inventory grew - all four seasons have at least one floral bouquet for the mantel and at least one front window 'something' to let the passing world know we know the time of year. Plastic pumpkin Jack'O'Lantern guard the door Halloween week through the morning after All Souls (2 Nov), new quality battery operated Christmas lights frame the house. 

 

The tree became an artificial one (ok, more like five or six in varying sizes) which Paul loves because it means less fire hazard, less cost, and less hassle for him fitting lights especially after I discovered pre-lit PE trees plus found the perfect set of clip-on candle lights. Decor for the tree became primarily ornate glitter-glass antique reproductions, still no real theme, per se, but all glass and the little larch cones were retired. 

 

The Nativity scene went from one of those fixed figures in a rustic stable to a vintage Fontanini set painstakingly hunted down across various auction sites over the 15 years I've been in Scotland, to the simple Holy Family sculpture one we've used the past two years. 

 

We have several front door wreaths, all either vine and foliage or simple rings with jingle bells. The house was framed with soft white lights for Christmas 2024, we're thinking this year going with multi-colour. The candle bridge in the front window will be the one I've used for years. Oh wait, maybe the Star one. Or the mini village one...

 

All in, we have everything we need to decorate. In multiples. From farmhouse cosy to ornate glitter-glass baubles in every colour possible. We have several PE Christmas trees ranging in height from 2 to 4ft. I've even fallen for 'snowy' (flocked to the American reader) fake trees - we have snowy in two heights, 2 and 3ft, now and they are proper little stunners (yes, a bit more pricey than the green ones but worth the cost).

 

Speaking of PE, once you've seen a PE tree you will go straight home and bin that ancient PVC one. PE is so realistic you really do have to touch the bough to understand you're enjoying a fake tree.

 

Theme? Yeah, ok, Christmas 2024 I succumbed to 'theme' - we had a peacock tree complete with a Gisela Graham Peacock Fairy tree topper and in all honesty that tree was so pretty Paul would come out to the living room just to see the tree. He wanted to use the green tree so the peacock effect wasn't as nice as using the snowy one but he won the coin toss. dammit

 

Right. 2025. It's been a bit of a tough year nationally and personally. I don't have the will or physical strength to fool with much effort even repeating the peacock tree which this year will be the snowy as we alternate. 

 

Wreath on the door (jingle bells this year I think), mini village candle bridge in the front window and Paul can hang the house lights. The snowy tree is going to wear all 2inch red glass bells with a Gisela Graham Skandi Angel topper. We'll use the Holy Family sculpture on the mantel.

 

Christmas Lunch - steak, mash, button sprouts, and pumpkin pie. Steak pie from the butcher and peas for Boxing Day and a chicken crown with trimmings for New Year.  

 

Please add your voice to our daily (ceaseless) prayer for deliverance from the totalitarian Labour 'government' and islamic mob rule running Britain to perdition on the fast track. May Christmas 2025 see us safe from evil and 2026 bring sense and sensibility back to not only the UK but the entire world.

 

Posted Friday 7 November 2025 at 1155hrs

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday 4 Aug 2025 post begun 0916hrs BST

 

Oh. Hell. I truly hate when I'm right. 

 

I suspected several months ago my hard-won newfound maths skills would deteriorate the moment I stopped the daily revision - and I was correct. 

 

Right, so what happened is: the BBC (for once) transmitted the latest Cormoran Strike tv series and when the run ended I went looking for the books.  

(Yes I fully support J.K. Rowling and her nom de plume 'Robert Galbraith'. Yes, I am 'gender critical' but I do have compassion for those who believe themselves 'in the wrong body' - I absolutely wish them peace and well-being but insist they stay the bloody hell out of biological-female only spaces FFS!)

 

OK, I found the complete book series, all hardcover as used in 'very good' condition, on eBay. I also found the newest book in the series available to pre-order and yes I did pre-order it. Should be released 2nd September and I am quite looking forward to it.

 

I read all seven books, in order, and surprisingly quickly given I've been neglecting fiction reading in favour of non-fiction - who needs Stephen King when the horror stories are real-life in-yer-face splashed across 'ripped from the headlines' telly and free-to-read online news feeds?

 

Oh. Once I'd finished the seventh Strike novel and was trying to wedge that tome into the bookcase, I came across a paperback Dean Koontz novel (The Eyes Of Darkness) I'd bought at the beginning of the so-called 'pandemic' but didn't read at the time. 

 

So, I read it. And the next thing I knew I'd ploughed through another 42 - yes, FORTY-TWO - Dean Koontz paperback novels, bought in groups of three a time on Amazon. Oh, and I've pre-ordered the paperback edition of 'Going Home In The Dark', got a long wait and could have the hardback tomorrow but I'm deep into keeping the Koontz books as paperbacks. Er, two more are due to be delivered today. 

 

So, Paul and I were watching F1 yesterday (Hungary GP, Lando Norris won) and at one point a point spread maths question came up. Oh. Dear. I couldn't answer it quickly. Paul shook his head and asked 'You haven't been working on your maths lately, have you?' and shook his head again.

 

Sigh. I'm going to have to get back to a dedicated 1-2hr per day maths revision schedule. I quite liked the way it felt to be able to deliver a maths answer quickly, honestly it was a very nice little confidence boost. I'm not giving up the reading - Dean Koontz is THE best contemporary fiction writer EVER - but I am starting back the maths work today. 

 

BTW, if you're looking for a 'must-read' Dean Koontz novel recommendation, The City should be top of your list. What can I say? All Dean Koontz books are his best and are exceptionally good reading. The City, well, it is the best of the best - and I've been a Dean Koontz fan since I stumbled across Watchers in the Ozark library back in 1987. 

 

                   *****HAPPY 235th BIRTHDAY USCG*****

 

Now, 7x8=... 

 

Post published Monday 4 Aug 2025 1007hrs BST 

 

 

Thursday 5 June 2025 post begun 0850hrs BST

 

If you're sensible, as you age you compromise on what constitutes a 'deal breaker'. You recognise no matter how you work at staying fit (no mean feat when lumbered with multiple-but-well-controlled heart conditions) you're not going to EVER be able to do the sports you did without thinking too much about consequences like pulled muscles. You realise the garden and other maintenance tasks are inching (leaping and bounding) out of your strength and energy levels. 

 

You look around at your current home and think 'Really?!'. 

 

The problem is getting your other half to come to the same realisation you have - that the kitchen and bathroom are not conducive to graceful and comfortable ageing-in-place, and that lovely lawn and shrubs and border plants including daffies and King Solomon Seal are too much work 'at your age'. You realise the living room is 'wrong', the entry hall is 'wrong' and the patio is so much bloody wrong neither of you have actually gone out there in YEARS. 

 

I've come to the conclusion I'm going to have to dare threatening him - either we move or we divorce. I am reasonably confident he'll bluster and argue strenuously and then choose not to call my bluff - he likes my cooking. I want to be moved by August at the very latest. 

 

I am a champion list maker - I make lists and stick with the contents. I make 'pro-con' lists on topics I'm trying to take a decision on (if time allows for lengthy consideration before a decision must be taken and acted on). 

 

My current list is titled 'What I like/dislike about...' a terrace property I looked at last year and thought 'Nope, won't work' because the only bathroom is on the first floor, but have recently come back to (yeah, it's still on the market, now £10K less - I want to know why it hasn't sold). I came back to considering the terraced property after my 'Could We Live In A 1st Floor Flat' list developed a rather serious reason to shift the list to the 'Probably Not' folder - the ground floor properties and the potential hassles of being a good neighbour to the folks on the ground floor. 

 

Oh OK, and the lack of ANY outdoor space - the more I thought about not having so much as a balcony to get a breath of fresh air, the more I realised we both need at least some wee bit of outdoor contiguous to our living space.

 

So now I'm working on finding more 'dislikes' than 'likes' on this quite nice terraced property in a rather nice neighbourhood - however the only dislikes I can come up with are the only bathroom (actually a shower room) is on the 1st floor with no scope for adding a WC (aka 'half-bath' to American readers) on the ground floor, and the room Paul would use as his study has the combi-boiler in the cupboard so he wouldn't be able to sleep in there. 

 

The problem is he hogs the blankets - we went with what is called a 'sleep divorce' (separate sleeping quarters) years ago. To be fair, I am a restless bed hog. So separate works for us:)

 

The second bedroom is big enough for two double beds. He does snore but not badly and only during hay fever season so we could conceivably share the bedroom for sleeping as long as we were sharing via separate beds.

 

The property interior is 'turn-key' with great carpet and paint through-out. The kitchen is well laid out, has a dishwasher, space for a side-by-side larder fridge-freezer AND a dining table and chairs - and it is beautifully open-plan to the sitting room. The 

 

The stair up to the first floor (shower room and two bedrooms) is wide enough for a stair lift. 

 

It has a top quality recently fitted combi-boiler and the entire property was re-wired when the new boiler went in late 2023.

 

This terraced property in a nice neighbourhood has no ground floor neighbours. It also has the added bonus of an elevated position giving a rather lovely 'upper terrace garden area' with paving and decking rather than lawn (I have ideas...), AND a lower off-street parking and bin storage space. It's not overlooked by next door neighbours on either side or across the street. 

 

I've been working on the like/dislike list for two weeks. So far the dislikes are far and away outnumbered by the likes.

 

Published 5 June 0945hrs BST 

 

 

 

 

Monday 26 May 2025 post begun 1036hrs BST

 

IT'S A KITCHEN, D'UH! Of bloody course the cabinetry should be 'satin white' with a dark worktop over, flippin' d'uh - a dark worktop means the impossible-to-avoid tea and 'red sauce' (BBQ, tomato, curry...) stains don't show, and washable 'satin white' cabinetry means drips and other kitchen gunk can be seen and cleaned up immediately.

 

It's called hygienic. It's called sanitary. It's called efficient kitchen from which arrive delicious meals and baked goods you don't worry will give you some nasty food borne illness. 

 

D'UH!

 

I love my husband. But he's incapable of understanding why I constantly agitate for a new kitchen - preferably in a slightly large home. Our current kitchen is the ultimate 'minimalist' dream - so bloody effing small NOTHING fits and actually cooking is next to bloody effing impossible. I've seen on-board railway galleys that are more efficient (and hygienic).

 

Fair play, he has Asperger's and is Aspie-comfortable in this effing shoebox with a garden my heart conditions mean I can't keep up - and he neglects shamefully.

 

He has, with my encouragement, the sole use of the one and only bedroom in this semi - a man with Asperger's NEEDS a sanctuary, a safe retreat from the daily hustle-bustle of home and neighbours. I accepted that need when I married him and while our first marital home had two bedrooms, it worked nicely for us until some serious issues arose.

 

In 2018 we downsized to a lovely one bed-one bath semi tucked away from foot and motor traffic. I knew it was a mistake but we needed to move asap - the first home had a back garden 20ft high retaining wall my building conservation husband recognised presented a collapse threat and the neighbours didn't want to know. Oh, and their two pre-teen daughters thought it a-ok to peer into our windows from their vantage point AND intrude on any BBQ or garden party we tried to have. We. Had. To. Move. Paul was on the verge of permanent meltdown at 'the old house'. 

 

By 2019 I was on a folding bed in the living room so Paul could have the bedroom to his sole use. By 2024 the extremely 'compact' nature of this semi was frazzling my last nerve. It is now mid-2025 and...

 

We need to move. Again - but hopefully for the last time. We're both in our late 60s and need to be realistic. I just don't know (yet) how I'm going to convince my beloved Paulie. 

I've found 'the perfect' property - a 2bed-1bath with an genuinely perfect floor-plan. Now all I have to do is get Paul to consider it, view it (because I know if he actually sees it he will fall in love with it and make an offer on the spot), and then move into it. 

No garden - it's a 1st floor flat with main door and a stair from the main door to the living quarters wide enough for a nice stair lift to be fitted. Fab big kitchen, multi-fuel burner in the living room, both bedrooms great size with one to the rear overlooking a churchyard (right up Paul's street for peace, quiet, and a lovely view:). Modern bathroom AND a converted large walk-in closet turned office (perfect for my sewing-crafting). Oh, did I mention the windows fill the property with sunlight AND the floored and insulated attic is accessed via a discreet actual stair. 

 

We're 'not getting any younger'. This flat I'm dreaming of living in has two bedrooms AND is located on an easy to access street - deliveries would no longer go 'Can't Locate' (sigh) and emergency services can not only find us but can get their appliances right at our doorstep. Our current property is tucked away down a 'goat path' lane only wide enough for a compact car meaning IF emergency services can even find our home they can't get the ambulance or fire engine to us.

 

Did I mention no garden? At this point I'm a-ok with a few houseplants and cut flowers from the supermarket.

If not this flat then another just like it - it may take me a while to convince my darling husband. 

 

Sigh

 

Posted 26 May 2025 1113hrs BST

 

 

 

 

Tuesday 15 April 2025 post begun 1010 BST

 

Holy Week. Semana Santa. A week beginning with the Palm Sunday Mass, a week spent in prayer and contemplation. Usually. 

 

This year we had to forgo Palm Sunday Mass - Paul is down with some kind of not nice virus (I'm thinking a spring cold combined with hay fever) and was reluctant to expose his vulnerable self to potential further yuck-spread crammed into a small church hall. Can't blame him so we watched a televised service then he retired to the study to drink LemSip concoctions in hope of knocking down some of his symptoms. 

Hopefully the Amazon delivery of bulk Extra Soft Kleenex will be here today.

 

 

Post begun 1007hrs Weds 26 Feb 2025

 

I've always known the old saying 'Use it or lose it' was completely true. So true, sigh.

 

Right, so thanks to that childhood bout with Rheumatic Fever (and all the little 'bonus parting gifts' it left me with like a damaged aortic heart valve and Essential Tremor and Rheumatoid Arthritis and...) I missed the important school years during which my age group learned the multiplication tables and long division (and fractions and decimals and...). 

 

I scrapped by but never really learned those all important maths skills. I say 'all important' because without the times tables and the steps to long division under the belt, progressing to things like algebra is impossible. I did manage to scrap by but barely and my lack of maths skills held me back in several ways. The sad truth is the only reason I passed Stats (on the 3rd try) was because I make a damn good cup of coffee and the 3rd time the professor (then called Cal State Long Beach, yes, I am a Miner 49er) saw my face he said he'd pass me if I kept his coffee Thermos full and his appointments straight. I did, he did, and I scrapped by, again.

 

I confess all that to explain why, aged 68 as the New Year of 2025 loomed, I made the mother of all NY Resolutions - yes, dear readers, I resolved to FINALLY learn multiplication and long division. 

The nearest actual bookstore is a two hour bus ride south so I bought several books online aimed at adults claiming to be absolute beginner self-guided teaching manuals. HA! Books arrived, opened to intro pages and discovered...

 

THE PREREQUISITE TO USING THOSE BLOODY DAMN BOOKS WAS...

 

Full understanding of multiplication and long division. Oh, and fractions and decimals as well. 

 

So I bought 'workbooks' for children, again having to shop online so a few of those books arrived and were yer basic 'Oh bloody hell, what a waste'. A double digit number of those books aimed at ages 6-11 years old, however, have been proving 'just the ticket'. 

 

Except. Except if I skip one day working on the current book, I forget nearly everything I've learned so far. Use it or lose it. So now I'm worried once I finish all the books (the ones for children and the ones for adults) I will forget all the hard won maths skills. sigh

 

Worse, I've discovered even with 1-2 hours a day work, I still can't make the 8-times tables stick in my head, also the 12s. Even using it (to avoid losing it) I STILL can't make my mind confidently remember 8x9 equals 72 (and yes I did have to pull out the multiplication square to see the answer).

 

Which leads me to worrying my inability to retain certain core facts is an early indicator of one of the forms of dementia. 

 

So I consulted (I now avoid the NHS so paid privately) a doctor known for his gerontology expertise. He laughed, in a kind way, but he laughed and I felt quite small and stupid and wondered why I was spending triple digits to consult this man. 

 

And then. He said he has trouble with the 9-times table and has since aged 8. He also complimented my decision to try to learn these maths skills, said the work would help keep my brain challenged which would stave off 'normal for age' cognitive decline and since my scans and other tests completely ruled out vascular dementia, I could safely stop worrying including worrying about the 8 and 12-times tables. And he said once I worked through the maths skills books I would need to find another brain challenge - for the rest of my life - if I really wanted to fight off cognitive decline. 

 

I dunno, maybe another go at learning Italian? 

 

 

27 NOV 2024 post begun 0739hrs GMT

 

 Dark at 4pm and not light again until 8am the following morning. I usually love this time of year, late autumn is the high point of the year for me. But, not this year because I was dragged unwilling into having to be out and about AND to have to be around a people I have come to view as best avoided at all costs.

Last year I was on 'jury standby' for nearly two weeks. I had to sit by the phone during the day in case I was called, I had to ring the court every afternoon 'after 5pm' to check if I'd been called for the next day. Major pita, frankly and it disrupted my daily routine to the point I was profoundly grateful when the daily check-in phone call informed me I could stop checking in and thanked me for being willing to serve.

My husband and several friends told me I'd likely never have to do that again because usually the interval between being cited for possible jury duty is years and years and I'm close to the cut-off age (70+) to be able to say no if I were to be called again...

 

Yeah huh. Last week I was not only cited to be on stand-by but informed two days later I'd been selected and should be at the court by 0945hrs the following Monday (25th Nov 2024). Oh. Dear. God only knew how many days having to sit in a closed environment with the sort of people who yearn for a return to the days of witch trials, dunking-burning-boiling in oil.

The only 'good thing' about it all was the weather turning balmy (ish, it is NE Scotland after all:) so at least we didn't have to worry about snow-ice-black ice. 

Arrived, checked in, forced myself to keep my mouth shut unless absolutely necessary (locals notorious for unfriendliness to outlanders and in their minds I am that worst of outlanders - a dual citizen with Scottish AND American ties, university educated AND possessing a accent best described as English-Canadian).

Day1 went along well enough. Day2, er, well, by midway through D1 personalities had exposed themselves to the extent many of the other jurors had admitted to prejudice against the accused and their willingness to send him to the gallows if possible. NOTE - we do not have the death penalty in the UK and sadly it is clear most of my fellow jurors regret that.

This despite the fact the Crown failed utterly to prove the case (three charges, first two involving assault with the added 'bonus' of the accused using a knife and the third being about having a knife in public). To make a long story short, the jury was instructed to go ONLY on presented evidence and said evidence was a fail from coppers reports on-scene, 'victim 1 and 2' testimonies, obvious Crown successful attempts to confuse the accused and his defence witness, and an absolute failure to present evidence corroborating the Crown prosecution. 

Meanwhile the defence attorney shredded the Crown's 'case' in every aspect from the inconsistencies of Vic1 and 2 testimonies including several instances of contradicting both their statements to police done 'on the night' AND their testimony in court. 

 

The Crown failed to answer two vital questions - why didn't the police search for a knife on the night (no explanation as to why they didn't) and why weren't the DNA results from Victim1's clothing presented as corroborating the victim's statements?

 

Three charges:

1-that the accused had held a knife to Victim2's throat

2-that the accused had attempted to stab Victim1

3-that the accused had a knife in public

No matter to a majority of my fellow jurors - they came right out on D1 to declare if the accused wasn't guilty, the Crown wouldn't have brought the case. And since the CPS (Crown Prosecution Service) had brought the case, the accused was guilty. No further discussion needed. Interestingly, the jury table was split - the eight most determined to declare the accused guilty sat at one half of the table and those of us wanting to hear ALL the evidence (seven of us) were crammed together at the other half (assigned seating but it is worth noting we seven were uniform in our view of things as were the eight down the table).

At the critical point late in the afternoon of D2 when we were deliberating, a show of hands vote was taken - of 15 jurors, eight voted guilty on charges two and three with seven voting not proven (my vote on all three charges) and a unanimous not guilty on one count - which didn't make any sense because if Charge3 was not guilty or not proven the other two charges couldn't have been either.

The entire two day exposure to 'my fellow Scots' reminded me why my G-G-Grandfather maintained ties with Scotland but never 'went home' to live. My great-grandfather did go back long enough to get his engineering training at Edinburgh (then on to Germany for his post-grad training) but also never 'went home', and why his sons and grandsons (including meown da) never did either. The consensus was the average 'teuchter' (local yokel) was thick as mince, determinedly and dangerously so. Honestly? Honestly nothing I've seen in the 15 years I've been home has proved my forefathers incorrect. 

Any road, that's done - onwards to getting the house ready for Christmas 2024!

Posted 27th Nov 2024 at 0836hrs GMT

 

 

3 Nov 2024 post begun 1400hrs GMT

 

Wee girl home 31st Oct - newly made big brother saw her arrival as a treat rather than trick and his only 'grump' is Mummy can't carry him to bed or lift him onto her lap owing to the C-section incision.

 

She is incredibly tiny but feeding quite well and her parents are sure she's grown considerably since coming home so they're saying please don't over-send preemie stuff she's going to outgrow by next week. 

 

OK yeah, I'm definitely biased but blimey that little girl is the most beautiful infant! She looks like her mum but also like her paternal aunt at that age - big brown eyes, tonnes of brown-gold hair and LOL (poor Fox and his wife) is so far acting the same sort of diva her paternal aunt did at that age. 

 

She's very alert, eyes focussing and tracking perfectly and she's genuinely smiling at family members - none of that 'oh it's just wind', she looks right at a person and smiles, most of all at her big brother. And LOL, she's already quite skilled at pulling Daddy's beard:)

 

The paediatrician says she's already 'caught up' and is on the upper percentile of her due date group (due date was 15 Nov, Little Miss arrived via emergency C-section early 26th Oct).

 

So far so good, thanks be to God. 

 Weds 30 Oct 2024 post begun 2334GMT

Right, so the UK clocks have gone back but US ones have not. Makes scheduling phone calls a bit tricky especially since newest granddaughter has been in a US Level3 NICU since a half hour after birth. My son is over the moon about having a daughter and walking around in a happy daze while my dil is coping with having to travel two hours to be with the wee lass and two hours back so she can spend some time with their son (just turned three). She had to have an emergency C-section so riding in a car is not her idea of a great way to spend the day. 

Meanwhile the scramble is on to assemble a preemie layette including nappies - say what you will about Amazon but you have to admit when it's crunch time, Amazon comes through. Baby wasn't due until 15th November and was estimated (by the OB-GYN) to arrive weighing between 7-8lbs. The grand and great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, besties have been delivering no end of things - and not one thing small enough to diaper and clothe a preemie. Seriously, Amazon is a life-saver. I am especially grateful I can use Amazon USA from the comfort of my UK living room to send birthday presents and infant supplies.

Meanwhile on my UK home-front, between sending preemie nappies and onesies and sleep sacs to the newest granddaughter in America, I've had to replace ALL my black plastic (nylon and silicone and yeah I had a lot of it) kitchen utensils because the news filtered across the Pond the black plastic material is TOXIC owing to the recycled materials it is made with and that includes the spatulas used to stir a pot of beef stew bubbling on the hob AND stir raisins into the oatmeal biscuit mix, DAMMIT! Black plastic is toxic because hot or cold use, the toxins leach into whatever food it comes into contact with.

I JUST BLOODY BOUGHT THOSE!! OK, what happened was I discovered, two years ago, hand washing my wood spoons was futile, who knew how disgusting wooden spoons are, ffs?! Some bright spark put her wooden spoons that looked spotless in a pot of boiling water and honestly seeing that video nearly had me throwing up. 

Most of my cook and bakeware is stainless steel but my vitreous enamel and My Precious, er, I mean my Cuisinart 5-in-1, have to be used ONLY with nylon or silicone utensils. 

In 2022 I replaced ALL my kitchen utensils with 'black plastic' and thought I was Kitchen Queen 2022. 

 

When Amazon delivers my 14pc set of RED silicone kitchen utensils, I hope to have the decency to avoid thinking myself Kitchen Queen 2024 because bloody hell knows how long it will be before red silicone is found to be as toxic as black. 

Hopefully newest grand will be home from NICU by early next week. She's holding her own, off all the tubes and CPAP and O2 and... She's only lost 2oz since her arrival four days ago, her lab work is good. She was under the blue light for jaundice but should be out from under in a few hours. 

Posted 31 Oct 0022hrsGMT

 

 

10 Oct 2024 post begun 1148hrs BST

 

I'm just about finished with Christmas and winter shopping - feels good although I know we'll be deep in 'the bleak midwinter' and I'll discover I've missed something vital.

 

Still, all stocked (again) with long johns and janes replaced (imagine that - those clothing items need replacing every five or so years, sheesh!), base layers I think it what we're meant to call them nowadays based on what the invoices call the fleece lined leggings and thermal cotton long-sleeved tee-shirts I've stocked in for Paul and me. New duvets washed-dried-folded-stored (OK, I admit it, duvets at my house need replacing as often as every two years because I wash duvets-covers-etc once a week on a hygienic 60C wash with Dettol AND detergent). Tins of soup for those days I can't face cooking, bags of charcoal for the barbie (so so so useful when power is out but we still need to eat and boil water for cleaning), spare batteries...all the standard winterising preparations done. 

This winter looks to be just a bit more worrying than last - if we're lucky it won't be a harsh winter (but I doubt we'll be lucky, after all, we have a Labour 'government' and that is the most unlucky of all). Many of my kitchen gadgets are now manual as opposed to electric, decluttering is just about finished (for this year any road) and routines are settled in.

All lessons learned during my 'Gulf of Mexico' years - be prepared or face the consequences, lessons my dear Paul once thought extravagant and not really appropriate in the UK...until that first winter I was here (2010-2011) and if I'd not been 'extravagant' with preps we would have frozen and gone hungry and so would the young mum with two under 7yo children we carried through ten days of ice-encased roads meaning fuel and food lorries couldn't make the trek up our glen. 

 

Every year since that first winter I have prepared just as I once did back on the Gulf. This year is no different than previous ones - again I have Christmas-Boxing Day-NYD dinners including trimmings in the freezer and store cupboard. 

 

Harsh or mild, winter cometh. We're as ready as I can make us. The big 'problem' now is how in the bloody hell to cope with the uncertainty this evil Labour 'government' has dropped on all our heads. We Scots thought the SNP 'government' up here at Holyrood was bad and bordering on evil, how gosh-awful is it the UK now has a Labour 'government' demonstrating how evil evil can be?

 

 

8 Oct 2024 post begun 1128hrs BST

 

Life goes on, especially if the event happened thousands of miles away to people completely unrelated to you save by one - I have Jewish ancestry (paternal grandfather).

 

Life goes on even in the face of the utterly indescribable. You listen to the news, you read the news, you fume as most news outlets seek to blame the victim and justify sharp upticks in increasingly violent anti-Jewish attacks 'right here in my own town!'. 

 

The horror you feel as you learn more and know already how savage the terrorists are, it numbs you. As you go through each day you feel contempt for yourself as 'life goes on' and you have to do the monthly Big Shop and laundry and housekeeping tasks and preparing for winter, you ask yourself wth is wrong with me that I haven't cried? 

 

Yeah ok, I pray every night for the survival and return of the hostages, I pray for the comfort of the bereaved coping with the unimaginable even though I know just what unimaginable is 'thanks' to my training (oh yes, I do know just how inhumane Man can be) and I know there is no comfort for what the bereaved are struggling to cope with.

 

I began to think I hadn't quite managed to put my training behind me and regained my humanity the way I thought I had once I was out of it, that training that made it possible to sift through crime scene photos and witness accounts without going mad. I didn't like myself. Because I hadn't cried.

Until I read Alison Pearson's account of her visit to Israel to talk to some of the affected. The survivors, the families, the workers who gathered personal effects (including body parts), the workers who prepared what remains could be gathered. When I got to the part Ms Pearson quotes a mortuary team member who quietly said not even one victim of the hundreds of girls her team tried to prepare for burial could be seen by the grieving family. Not one, not even the youngest of the female victims of a breathtaking savagery could be brought out to aid a family in saying goodbye.

I cried. Quiet, no sobbing, no gasping for breath. But a river of tears I worried would flood the keyboard. I didn't try to stop crying. 

I think inside I am still crying. 

Here in the UK a recent poll indicates a large number of our 18-24 year olds support the terrorists. 

Pro-Palestine marchers block urban streets all across this oh-so-disUnited-Kingdom. Honestly? I honestly keep waiting to wake up to see on the news a 21st century  Kristallnacht has happened. I keep expecting to hear of an atrocity overnight.

The mainstream media stubbornly refuses to report when yet another anti-Semitic attack has occurred, BBC and SkyNews both insist on calling the terrorists 'militants' or 'soldiers', they insist on 'equalising' by reporting briefly on terrorist attacks and the shocking increase in anti-Jewish sentiment (and actions) here in the UK then bigging up 'islamophobic attacks' in a shocking 'whataboutery' as if to justify what the terrorists have done and continue to do. More blaming the victims - the Jews.

 

My husband asked me not to put the Chanukiah where the neighbours might see it, he asked me that last year and he's asked me again this year. 

 

We both think maybe WWIII really is about to be declared.

Yet life goes on. Winter is coming and we're bang up in the middle of preparing. I need to buy new duvets, I need to finish the semi-annual declutter. 

I need to stop wondering if bombs will drop on the house or the household supplies will be looted by rampaging marauders...ONE battalion is 1000 troops and over 40 battalions of 'illegal migrants' have landed to the UK shores, taken in fed and housed by our so-called government.

In the midst of all this horror, life goes on.

 

 

Monday 2 Sep 2024 post begun 1039hrs BST

 

Right, let's get this out of the way first thing - I'm now 68 years old and ask, can I now claim to be pushing 70? 

 

ARGH! My microwave corn popping is still completely unsatisfactory (two years after working out how to do it without buying those bag thingies). I gave up yesterday and ordered an air popper. 

 

I love popcorn. Paul loves popcorn. I love Paul. I often wonder if Paul loves me because every damn time I pack and carefully label a box, he bloody unpacks it, scatters my carefully packed and labelled contents hither and yon. Because 'I needed a box just that size'.

 

Which he did in late August 2018 as we packed to move to this house - six years on and I still can't find the air popper. GRRR!

 

So yesterday whilst browsing my Amazon watch list those annoying 'Have you thought about...' and 'You might like...' pop-ups suddenly were not as annoying as the sales prompts were for air poppers. And I realised we don't snack on popcorn as often as we did 'at the old house' because using a huge Pyrex bowl and a silicone cover is not making my Golden Years as nice as I'd hoped and I longed for an air popper.

 

So. So I bought one, should be here tomorrow. Happy Six Year In The Downsizer Anniversary to me. Oh ok, and Mr Lost-the-air-popper. hmph

 

Speaking of the 'downsizer' -- WE MUST RIGHTSIZE!!

 

Trust me. A one bedroom-one bathroom home is TOO BLOODY SMALL for us. 

 

I've been secretly searching for a larger two bedroom (prefer a 3br if I'm honest). I've found two real contenders, one I know Paul would love and I could (grudgingly) make work, and one Paul would not like (at first, I know my husband and I know he would actually quite like this one after a week or so). 

 

I quite like the one Paul would not at first look. It is spacious, has an upstairs 'family bath' and a downstairs 'WC' (powder room to American readers), a decent kitchen and larder (pantry), sits on level ground surrounded by level ground, in a good tax band, close to transport links, and has a very good home report. Oh, and it is priced affordably. 

 

On an other topic, our cat is no longer safe to have crocheted cat blankets. I made him a beautiful 'whisky red' one a couple weeks ago and he has pulled several stitches thanks to his elderly inability to disengage his claws the way he could when younger. He's 19 now - close to 100 translated cat to human years - and while he still is quite surprisingly active for his age and consistently astonishes the vet at his six month checks (he goes twice a year since reaching age years), he is 'showing his age' in a few ways including having to have his noms pointed out to him (eyesight and sense of smell fading) and the previously mentioned increasing inability to retract his claws. I keep those claws well trimmed (he's an indoor cat after taking and killing a neighbour's parrot ten years ago, the vet thinks his robust health is owing to being kept indoors) but claws are claws and even blunt claws can do serious damage to crochet blankets. 

 

I'm digging through the scrap fabric box - it's time to make the cat a quilt blanket. It is Day2 of Autumn 2024 so I'd better get sewing! 

Speaking of Autumn, I think it came in a few weeks ago - the beech tree leaves are turning and beginning to drop, the Japanese Maples likewise turning (but no leaf drop just yet). Two weeks ago I had to turn on the heat and it has been running ever since with Paul's full approval despite the cost of gas heat threatened to go up next month. Autumn blankets (slightly lighter weight than winter ones) have been on the bed since the heat went on as the thermostat is set to lower at 10pm and rise again at 7am. 

Paul has fished his winter slipper boots out of the cupboard, my 'granny mocc' pair are likewise back on the job. 

I don't know if Winter '24-'25 is going to be early and harsh but judging by the early arrival of autumn this year, I've stocked in and begun the annual replenishment of crocheting autumn and winter weight yarn into blankets. No rush to finish blankets, the crochet seems to make my Essential Tremor less tremory so it is all a big win-win, that constant crocheting. 

The only drawback is the cost of post to the US where Fox and his wife are expecting Baby2 (a girl!) the middle of November. I hated not being able to send a hand-crocheted baby blanket for Baby1 three years ago and I am quietly fuming at the cost of post now I have a BabyGirl to make things for, dammit. 

Sigh. At least Amazon USA delivers. Baby1 turns 3yo in October and is getting a ceiling planetarium 'night light' for his birthday (still don't know what to send for Christmas but we'll figure it out in time:). Baby2 is getting Evenflo bottles and two jumbo boxes of newborn nappies (larger ones will be sent when the wee girl puts on some weight) plus winter weight sleep sacks for her 'Welcome to the world'.

 

I remember when Baby1 was born - I offered to send the bottles and sleep sacks but my dil wasn't enthusiastic, preferring those handy disposable plastic bag thingies and stating outright she hated sleep sacks. Also hated onesies and footie sleep suits. I think Fox has her on-board to avoid microplastics (hence glass bottles), and he thinks sleep sacks would make middle-of-the-night nappy changes a whole lot easier (well, yeah!). She didn't sound as unenthusiastic when I asked if she'd like the bottles and sacks, and then, FINALLY! FINALLY my dil actually came out and said what she really really really really needs - nappies in bulk:)

 

Yes, I am a happy Granny to have my dil letting me know what I can send to help her out:) She is such a sweetheart and such a great mother, I want to help any-every way I can to make her life easier.

Onwards into autumn and winter, God willing.