Excuse me while I rant

Yes, I’m going to have a rant today.

I pride myself with always being polite to people. I’m never rude. I always hold the door for people and I let people go ahead of me if they are in a hurry.  I was brought up to always say ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’. To always respect others, to turn the other cheek when necessary and to always have good manners.

I hate rude people!

What has brought about this rant, you might ask? I’ll tell you what!

Beetle

The telephone rang and I got up to answer it.  Whoever it was asked to speak to Mo, so I asked who was calling. It’s only polite to do that, in my opinion.  I was immediately hit with an onslaught of verbal diarrhoea, with no answer to my question at all.

Realizing that he was obviously trying to sell something I said, “Hold on please!” He paused momentarily.  ”I’m really not interested, thank you”, I said and he slammed the phone down on me!

Now I know that he has to try to reach sales numbers and it is a job to him, but how long does it take to say “Thanks for your time”?

I didn’t ask him to call. I didn’t want him to call. in fact, I am on the list of ‘No calls please’ and we are ex-directory. Not that that seems to make any difference. The fact that we get these phone call intrusions into our home, at any hour of the day or night, already angers me, but to be rude on top of that just makes my blood boil.

Who decided that it was OK to harass people in their homes? It’s bad enough that we get flooded with email spam, but interrupting our TV viewing, or worse, our evening meal, by calling us?

Have you heard the old saying “An Englishman’s home is his castle”?*  Well, it used to be, but not any more. Anyone and everyone can purchase a list with everyone’s private information on it and use it however they want to.  There should be a law against it.

I remember when…….OK, OK, I know that’s what all old people say, but I do remember when it was unheard of to call anyone ‘out of hours’. That meant you only made business calls between 9am and 6pm. If you had to call slightly later you started with an apology for the late call.  You could guarantee that a phone call after 7pm was a friend or family member.  I also remember when ‘telesales’ were company to company NOT private homes.

What will I do next time I receive one of these calls?  I don’t know, but I know that I would like to just put the phone down as soon as I realize it’s another telesales call.

Will I actually be able to do it? It goes against the grain, but I have the right. They are intruders, after all.

* The English dictum that a man’s home is his refuge.

Posted in Humour, Ramblings, Rants | Tagged , , | 28 Comments

Train ride to danger

It was a warm summer evening, back in the early 60′s. My sister and I boarded an almost empty train. A ‘semi fast’ train, which meant that it stopped at selected stations along the route, and not all of them. We were later to become very glad that it wasn’t a ‘fast’ train, which didn’t stop until London Bridge. That would have been an hour with no stops.

Train compartment

We chose one of those small, compartments, the sort that have just one seat either side, exactly like this one. Out of the rush hour, it wasn’t a busy route and the train pulled in to empty and quiet stations, as it travelled through the Kent countryside. Sometimes you would hear a single door slam shut as someone either got on or off the train, but on the whole, it was silence at each stop. We sat, chatting and looking out of the window.

The train made another stop and the silence was broken.

The door to our compartment opened and two teenage boys got in. They looked about seventeen (my age) – just a couple of lads going out for the evening. They sat down opposite and stared out of the window. They had the whole, empty, train to choose from, why did they have to choose our compartment? The journey wouldn’t be as relaxed now.

It all happened so fast! Like lightening, and without any warning, I found myself on the floor of the train, struggling, trying to get free, the heavy weight of one of the boys holding me down. In my struggle I turned toward where my younger sister had been seated. She had been thrown across the seat, the other boy laying on top of her. She too, was trying, in vain, to free herself. I couldn’t believe how strong these boys were. No amount of struggling could free my arms of his grip, or allow me to move from under the weight of his body, pinning me down.

This struggling went on for a while until, finally, the train slowed down as it approached it’s next stop. I knew it would be another empty, quiet station. They all were, until you hit London. I prayed somebody would be there waiting to get on this train.

Suddenly, as quickly as they had pounced on us, they leapt up and jumped off the train, leaving us dazed and thankful. We stood and brushed ourselves down, wondering what it had all been about. Not realizing how serious this could have been, we continued on to our destination and slowly forgot this strange incident.

This obviously wasn’t the first time they had done this. It was all far too slick, both moving at lightening speed, and in unison, giving us no time to react. Not a single word had been spoken by them. They knew what to do, and when to do it. They had perfected it.

They were not rapists, at least at that time they were not. Had they been, I realize that we wouldn’t have stood a chance against their determined strength. Maybe this had been a rehearsal, before they moved on to more serious things.

Image source

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My metamorphosis

I would like to thank you all for your heart felt comments on my previous post.  They were a great help to Mo and I, in what is a very sad time for us. I can’t think of anything funny to post at the moment, so here is a snippet from my life in the 60′s.

———————————————-

I was 15 and about to leave school and step out into the big wide world. It was usual for your mother or father to come to the school and meet with your form teacher to discuss a job for you.

It was 1961 and very few people stayed on at school to take GCE’s, as they were called then – just a handful out of the ‘A’ stream class. I was in the A stream, but I hadn’t even thought about staying on, until one day a teacher bellowed out, “Leach! Why aren’t you staying on?” I, in my usual very shy way, just said “I don’t know sir” and cringed at the attention it bought me. No more was ever said on the subject.

Anyway, there I was with my mum and my favourite teacher, Miss Richardson. She was, in fact, the only decent teacher we had in the whole school! She made you feel important. She actually held a two way conversation with you, and listened to you! It was unheard of in our school. We were always bellowed at, and told to be quiet if we attempted to reply to a teacher. She was younger than any of the other teachers – a breath of fresh air. Needless to say she didn’t fit the mould, and didn’t stay very long. She left soon after I did. I count myself fortunate to have been in her class in her only year at our school.

With my mum at my side, Miss Richardson said “What sort of job did you have in mind?”

“A hairdresser” I said. Well didn’t everybody want to be a hairdresser?

She smiled. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do something you have a talent for” she said. I looked at her and she smiled again. “What about your art? You have a real talent. Wouldn’t you like a job that used that talent?”

“Ok” I said, not really seeing the importance of all this at that young age. She immediately fixed me up with an interview, and handed my mum the details.

You need to understand that a 15 year old, back then, was little more than a child, probably equivalent to an 11 year old today, and still wearing white ankle socks. I find it very strange that, as young as we were, the vast majority of us were soon to be holding down full time jobs, and we accepted that responsibility easily and eagerly – one day wearing ankle socks and bushy eyebrows, the next, wrestling with suspender belts, high heels and make up. It really was that sudden a transformation. Yet we handled it.

< Me, just before I left school – Bushy eyebrows intact.

Mum had taken me out and bought me my first set of ‘adult’ clothes. The image of my new coat makes me cringe now, but it was ‘hot’ when I chose it. It was a straight wrap over coat with a tie belt. Wait for it…. It was red plaid! Very fashionable in 1961, but UUUGHHH!

The day came for my interview and, again, mum came with me. Parents always accompanied their child to their first interview. It was expected by the would be employer. I got the job, as a trainee designer and was due to start one week after I left school. My salary would be five guineas, which was £5.25 pence ($8.35 US). It was a very good salary in those days, and set a future trend for me. After all, this was the beginning of the sixties and everything was plentiful, including jobs.

I thank Miss Richardson, and often think about her. She made my last year at school a good year, and set my future up for me, because she cared. I hope she’s had a good life.

 

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Farewell our sweet, sweet Livvie

Our beautiful Livvie went to the Rainbow Bridge tonight.

We promised that we would never let her suffer so we could have her longer. It became obvious today that she would now begin to suffer, so we took that awful journey to the vet tonight.

I am posting this video again, in her memory.

YouTube Preview Image

She gave us over 20 years of fun, laughter and love.

Goodnight sweet baby girl.

.

Posted in Ramblings, Specials | 27 Comments

What idiot designed these bottle tops?

Over the years bottle lid designs have come and gone.  Some were fiddly, some were easy to remove and some are down right impossible to pull off!

What idiot designed these bottle tops?

Bottle lid

It, no doubt, was a young, virile chap with strong, nimble fingers. I’d lay bets it wasn’t a woman over 40, or someone (like me) with painful finger joints. Even Mo who is stronger than the average woman, can’t get some of these off!

A note to the bottle manufacturers:

Bottle cap

We don’t all have young, strong men in our home (even if we’d want one) and we don’t want a ten minute battle with every bottle we open, eventually having to resort to using a sharp knife to remove it!

I bet if we did a survey, we’d find out that most household bottles were opened by women, and probably more women over forty than under, so why don’t they design these things to suit?

I have a sneaky feeling that this isn’t the first post (rant) I’ve written about these stupid lids and I doubt it’ll be the last rant I’ll have!

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Going back in Time. Final part – Love is

For those that haven’t read the other parts, and would like to, here are the links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Life was good for Sidney and Jeanette.  Sidney now worked as a restoration artist, restoring the murals and paintings in the castles around England and Wales.  It was a very high quality job and Sidney deserved it.  He had worked hard in the decorating trade all his life, climbing ladders all day with his painful, ulcerated legs. He still had to climb scaffolding in order to reach the high ceilings of the castles, but at least he was very well respected now.

Sidney at work

A really high point for Sidney was when the Queen came to see her murals being restored.  He had to give her a small demonstration of how he cleaned all the cracked and browned varnish off before starting the actual restoration work. Later Sidney laughed and said that she would have had a fit if she’d known what he was using to remove the varnish.  He was painting ‘Nitromors’ (which is basically acid) on her priceless paintings!

Sidney bought Jeanette her own little house in a small village in Kent.  He converted a large back room into a lovely kitchen for her.  They had their dream home, and things couldn’t get much better.  Within days of moving in, just about every neighbour had been to introduce themselves to the ‘family from London, who had a bunch of pretty teenage girls’

Sidney’s job took him away from home often.  A lot of his work was in Wales and he had to stay away for months at times.  He would come home for a weekend as often as he could, but most of the time he could only write letters to Jeanette.  He missed his family.

I was about seventeen and working in London when my boss came over to me, solemn faced, and said “I think you should get home as quickly as possible.  Something has happened to your father”

It was a long journey home, and I had no idea what I was going home to.  The whole family had been contacted and were all making their way either to Wales, or to Kent, and Jeanette, my mother. By the time I got there my mother was already on route to Wales with one of my brothers.  My other brother had a little mini-van.  It was a tiny van with no seats but us girls piled in the back and sat on the floor.  We were on our way to a hospital in Wales where Sidney lay, not expected to live through the night – again.

Sidney had suffered a massive coronary while he was alone.  He had crawled along the landing of the boarding house he was staying in, and managed to get to the bathroom, where he propped himself up and dunked his head under running cold water, in order to stay conscious until help came.  He managed to attract the attention of the landlady, by banging on the pipes. She immediately called the ambulance.

A large room had been made available, in the hospital, for us to stay the night.  We were now an even larger family with in-laws added.  We were allowed in, one at a time, to see Sidney.  He was conscious but was a dreadful grey colour.  We all settled down for the night and waited nervously.  The next morning Sidney was still alive, and the next, and the next.

Some weeks later Sidney arrived at his home in Kent to start the upward journey back to health, and his life with Jeanette.  Again, he had cheated death.  This had frightened Sidney.  He was aware that it could happen again if he wasn’t careful, but slowly he regained his confidence and life was good again.  Sidney gave up his restoration work, as he didn’t want to continue leaving Jeanette for long periods of time.  Now he travelled to London daily as a high class interior decorator.

Their little house was a happy home, always full of people and pets.  Children, grandchildren and friends were always visiting.  Their home had always been a place where people gathered, and a place that us children were not in a hurry to move away from.

Mum

The years rolled by and it was now 1980.  Time for another big celebration.  Family and friends (Jeanette and Sidney had made a lot of those) all gathered in a large hall, which was decorated with balloons and streamers.  Jeanette looked radiant in her long red dress, and Sidney was still so proud of her.  At the age of seventy she was still the most glamorous woman in the room!

Halfway through the evening, the music was turned off and Jeanette and Sidney made their way over to the centre of the room.

Blessing

Sidney took Jeanette’s hand, remembering the time, fifty years ago, that he watched Jeanette walk down the isle of the beautiful 18th century church, to become his wife.  Now, on their Golden wedding anniversary, they repeated their vows.  The priest blessed their happy and enduring marriage, and their children looked on proudly.

Jeanettesidney

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I Corinthians 13:4-7  (NIV)

 

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Sofa Conversation about NetFlix

Sofa

It’s often hard having a conversation in our home. The TV is on the wall and Mo sits in front of it. The speaker sits beneath the TV and is aimed directly at Mo. I sit at my computer to the side of the speaker, so when I speak it isn’t easy to be heard properly.

Me:  “Do you want to sign up for NetFlix?”

Mo: “A necklace?”

Me:No, NetFlix”

Mo: “Do I want a necklace?”

Me:NO!  Do you want to sign up for NETFLIX? You know, MOVIES!

Mo: “Ohhhh. Yes, OK”

Me: (remembering that we already cancelled once before):  “Do you?”

Mo: “Do I what?”

*Sigh*

We did NOT sign up for NetFlix.

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Going back in time. Part 3 – An upward struggle

For those that haven’t read parts one and two, and would like to, here are the links: Part one - Part two

During the trauma of the accident, Jeanette and Sidney also had to cope with the fact that Britain was at war.  Sidney was not called to fight as he was in a reserved occupation.

It soon became apparent that London was not the safest place to be, with bombs dropping everywhere, and all school children were evacuated.  Waving goodbye to their children, as they boarded a train for the countryside, was heartbreaking for Sidney and Jeanette. Sidney fought back his own tears while trying to comfort the sobbing Jeanette.  Eventually, unable to stand the separation any longer,  Jeanette joined her children, leaving Sidney behind.  He worked hard in order to provide for his family, even though he was in continual pain from badly ulcerated legs.  These were a result of his accident and would stay with him for the rest of his life.

These years took their toll on their marriage and family life, but by 1945 the war was declared over and Sidney and Jeanette had had two more little girls.  One year later another baby girl was born and two years on, yet another baby girl.  This would be their last child.  They now had two boys and five girls.  Soon after this, a friend of Jeanette’s who couldn’t handle being a mother, handed her little girl over to Jeanette and Sidney.  They didn’t think twice.  They took her in as one of their own and she lived with them until she was fifteen.  They loved children.

As the years came and went, things got easier and Sidney’s earnings improved.  The country was slowly getting on it’s feet again.  Sidney was now able to provide more luxury items for Jeanette.  She had worked so hard for so many years, looking after her family, that Sidney vowed she would have every labour saving device and gadget that came on the market.  During the fifties and sixties their home was transformed from a war-torn dilapidated home to a modern, warm home with everything Jeanette could ever want.  Everything was centered around the kitchen which, because she loved to cook, was Jeanette’s favourite room.  Family came to visit and sat around in the kitchen.  It always had been, and would continue to be, the focal point of their home.

Sidney was a romantic and, now that he could afford it, he came home every pay day with flowers or a box of chocolates for Jeanette and sweets for the children.  At least those that were still living at home.  They had ridden a very bumpy road to get here, but had survived.  They were still very much in love.

There was, however, one more major bump on it’s way.

 

 

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Mo’s belated Christmas present

Remember the problems we had with Mo’s Christmas present?  We finally had the door entry system installed today and we Mo loves it.

The flickering is caused by the video. It’s actually a very clear and stable picture. At night we can switch it on and see our driveway and car. Just in case.

Finally Mo has her long awaited Christmas present!

It appears that Google hasn’t sent this post to it’s reader either. This edit is a test to see if a second attempt might work.

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Going back in time. Part 2 – The Anniversary

For those that haven’t read part one, and would like to, here is the link: Part 1

Going Back in Time Part 2

Sidney and Jeanette settled nicely in to married life and it wasn’t long before they had additions to their family.  Their first born, a little girl called Leeta, and five years later a son was born.  Life wasn’t easy as it was the time of ‘The Great Depression’, following the ‘Wall Street Crash’ of 1929, but they were very much in love and felt they could overcome anything. Another four years on and another baby boy arrived.  Sidney had managed to find work, so although life was hard they had an income, which was more than most.

It was their wedding anniversary and Jeanette was cooking a special meal for Sidney that evening, with all the trimmings. With everything prepared, and the two youngest boys in bed, she waited, with Leeta, for Sidney to arrive home.

He was late and Jeanette began to worry.   A loud banging on the door knocker broke the silence and Leeta rushed to let her father in.  It wasn’t her father, but a policeman, who proceeded to tell Jeanette that there had been a accident and that Sidney was in hospital.  He said she needed to get there quickly as he was not expected to make it through the night.

Sidney had been asked to work late, and was promised a lift home so he wouldn’t be late for his anniversary celebrations.  Everything went according to plan, but what Sidney didn’t know was that the passenger door on the lorry was faulty.  The lorry driver took a corner rather fast, the door flew open and Sidney fell out, and under the wheels.  The road they were travelling along was in the process of being re-tarred and gravelled, so it made things far worse. It was an eight wheeled lorry and it dragged Sidney quite a distance.

When Jeanette arrived at the hospital, she was informed of Sidney’s horrific injuries.  A fractured scull, a broken pelvis, his spine was broken in three places and his stomach was split open, causing his intestines to spill out. They, and his body, were pitted in tar and gravel.  “He will not live”, they said, but live he did!

The nurses had to spend time, each day, picking the little stones out of Sidney’s body.  They put him in plaster from his neck down to his thighs and he spent many, many weeks in hospital.  “He will never walk again”, they said, but walk he did!

Jeanette had to juggle her life between looking after children and a baby and spending time at Sidney’s side in the hospital.  It was not easy, but with the help of family, she managed to spend  best part of the daytime with Sidney and the late afternoon and evenings at home with her children.

Eventually Sidney came home, still wearing the plaster, that he was to continue to wear for another six months.  Jeanette had two children, a baby and now Sidney to nurse and care for.  Their life had changed dramatically.  Sidney would never be free of pain for very long, for the rest of his life, but they didn’t know that then.  They were still very much in love, and Sidney was still alive.  That was all that mattered.  They had an upward battle to face, but face it they did!

 

Posted in Ramblings, Stories from my past | Tagged , , , , , | 36 Comments