Last of The Summer Wine Club

Whilst we are on the subject of friends many people, particularly those in the same organisation or workplace who are part of a group of colleagues who have worked together for many years often make friendships which carry over when they retire. Of course some people move away when they retire or do not live anywhere near former colleagues. In my case I live on an island (and, yes I appreciate that Britain is an Island but I think you understand what I mean) as do a significant number of my former colleagues. So getting together is relatively easy.

In my case many of my former colleagues live in and around Stornoway. I retired from the local council 30 years ago. On the first Wednesday of every month we have a lunch club for retirees. We call it The Last of the Summer Wine Club. My readers in the UK will understand that reference. For those who do not there is a television programme which was on television for 31 years from January 1973.  In short three elderly men from Yorkshire prefer to stay young by engaging in "youthful" activities whilst reminiscing about their childhood days.  I enjoy watching it now as much as I did half a century ago - it hasn't dated one little bit.

Friends

I woke up this morning. This is something I've been doing for over eight decades and something I hope that I will be doing for some years to come providing that my mental faculties remain reasonably able to steer me through the day without too much trouble. 

Someone asked me recently if I had any male friends. I thought it was a very strange question and said so and asked why such an assumption should be made. Apparently it was very simple. I have coffee in The Woodlands several times a week at least. All the people with whom I have coffee are friends I have known for many many years (at least two I have known for over half a century). However all my 'coffee mates' are female. Why? Because their husbands are no longer with us.  I do have one male friend and former colleague I've known for 51 years with whom I have lunch in The Woodlands every Friday. His wife died a couple of years ago after many years of illness. 

On a Saturday morning I used to meet my son, Gaz, for coffee in An Lanntair (the local arts centre) whilst my grandson went to his drama class.  About half way through a friend (whom I've met for coffee on a Saturday morning for many years) would come and join us and then Gaz would take Brodie swimming.  Some say that routine is boring. I find it quite comforting.

However that routine came to a sudden end a few weeks ago when Gaz very suddenly decided to go back to sea. He received a phone call on a Thursday offering him a Chief Engineer's job on a superyacht. A job he has done for many years before he 'retired' several years ago. So one Saturday we were coffeeing and a few days later he was afloat at the other end of the Mediterranean. Now he is 'languishing' in Monaco.  It can be a hard life!

Almost Midnight, Almost Midsummer.

One of the advantages of living in the Outer Hebrides is the very light nights at midsummer. It's 2315 and this is my garden looking out over The Minch to the mainland of Scotland.

I'm taking the opportunity to do this tonight because, knowing Scottish weather it could be pouring with rain in 24 hours time.

Ring O' Bells

Back in my previous incarnation in England and when I was in my early 20s I occasionally pulled ropes and rang church bells. In fact I nearly ended my life as a result when a bellrope came off the bellwheel  and snaked around my neck. Fortunately someone behind me (not ringing a bell) saw it and got the rope away from my neck before it was pulled up again by the weight of the bell. Such occurrences are infrequent but can have dire consequences. "Hung by the Church Bell" does not look good on a church gravestone.   

My wife to be was a proper campanologist.

Next to the church which we attended (and in which we were married) was a hostelry aptly known as The Ring'O Bells.  There in 'Ernie's Snug' we gathered after ringing for a pint or two of best bitter. 

That was over half a century ago. 

The last time I went into the hostelry was a good few years ago and I felt like a complete stranger. The inside of the hotel had been completely gutted and was a beautiful, modern hostelry with plenty of food being served. If I had still lived there I wondered if it was still a 'local' for some old codgers who would pop in for a pint. 

Mind you I can't remember when I last had a 'pint' or any draught beer for that matter. My alcoholic drink of choice for the last 40 + years has been wine.

I must get back to blogging more regularly and try and ressurect some of my old memories too.  

My Garden (30 years ago)

I came to live in Eagleton 31 years ago although I've lived on the Isle of Lewis for half a century. When I came I bought a house 7 miles outside Stornoway and the commute to my job in Stornoway was very quick because the road was good and there was no traffic.

Just over 30 years ago I moved to my current house on the Eye Peninsula just above The Minch (the sea between the Island chain and the mainland of the Scottish Highlands).  The main part of the house was built in 1927 with various alterations made since then enlarging and modernising it. I have been exceptionally happy living here and I hope that I will be able to continue living here until the end comes (which, of course, it inevitably will!).

When I came, the 'garden' (the house stands in just over ¼ acre) was virtually non-existent. The front was like a building site and the back grass area was dominated by four huge pampas grasses. The latter had to be removed with a mechanical digger. The front took years of hard labour with a wheelbarrow, removing rubble and replacing it with lorry loads of topsoil which had to be barrowed manually onto the garden.  

Given that in the early days there was no labour allowed on the Sabbath and I worked full-time, my days were very long. Fortunately in those days I was also very fit. (I'm still fit, thank heaven, but my body has been in use for 80 years and isn't quite as amenable or capable as it used to be).

The garden is pretty much as I want it now but when I was thinking of some alterations a week or two ago I had a sudden realisation that my proposals would take quite a few years to be at their best. So I decided on a more 'immediate' approach to alterations from now on so that I can, hopefully, enjoy them.

I'll show you some current photos in another post.

Toilets

The first time I went to France (about 60 years ago) I was at a service station on the autoroute (motorway)  and popped into the toilets which had both urinals and individual cubicles.

As I was standing at a urinal a lady walked past me. I had a minor panic attack thinking I must be in the ladies toilets until I realised that there were both sexes represented. Having been brought up in the UK the idea of shared toilets had never occurred to me.  To the French it was normal.

In the UK this has become a huge question with the issue of which toilet trans-sexual people should use. The decision in the Supreme Court was that you use whichever is appropriate to your biological sex. 

I haven't been following the matter but the issue seems to have revolved around women's safety.

As Peter Cook used to say "It's a funny old world, Dud."  Funny peculiar not funny ha ha I assume. 

Making Life Difficult

One of the apps on my iPhone, Patient Access, has just refreshed. It's an app used for ordering medication from the doctor and suchlike. It's very useful.

This morning I switched my iPhone off because it had altered the order of the of app pages for some inexplicable reason. All was okay when I switched it back on until I went into the Patient Access App. It required me to sign back in. 

Fine. Nothing unusual there. Except that they have introduced two-factor authentication. That should be simple but it wasn't because it suddenly decided that I'm not who I am.  After an hour or more of time I cannot afford to waste on such things, it was sorted.

I'm fortunate enough to be computer savvy having been involved with computers since I did a computing course on my second degree when I was about 22 (l o n g  ago!). I've used and battled with computers ever since.

However, it took me well over an hour to convince the app that I am me get it all back up and running . How on earth anyone with no interest in or ability with computers copes with modern life I have no idea because everything we do these days seems to require some sort of computer input and if my experience is anything to go by it gets harder and harder each day.

Tomatoes

I love tomatoes. I have eaten tomatoes most days for years........until recently.

I bought some (I always buy "The 'Best" salad tomatoes) in a different supermarket (there is a grand choice of 2 in Stornoway) to usual.

The skins were so tough that eating them was a chore. Peeling them (using the usual boiling water method) proved virtually impossible. I put them aside for mixed grill.

Back to my usual supermarket and, lo and behold, they were no better.

Okay, I realise that they are all grown in Spain under greenhouse conditions and that they have been bred to reduce damage. However I am perplexed as to why, all of a sudden, I have become so aware of the hard skins that I may well curtail my eating of tomatoes until all my different varieties grow in my polycarb later in the summer.

I will, of course, keep my eyes open in the Supermarkets and hope for improvements. There is no real substitute for a good ripe tomato in one's salad.

Review, Rethink, and React

I've had a rather unsettled time since my last post.  The world's political situation has been depressing me and my uretic stent has been causing problems which always scares me because of the possibility of sepsis. Over the years I have got to the stage where I can recognise the very early onset of sepsis. However sometime it occurs in the middle of the night and I can wake up in a very confused state. Fortunately the emergency services have so far managed to respond to my confused phone calls and I'm here to tell the tale.

Apart from that I'm okay but enough of health and negativity.

I'm getting to the stage when I find the international political situation beyond coping with. It's obvious that the USA is going to be a loose cannon until Trump relinquishes power which may not be any time soon. It seems entirely possible that he may alter the constitution to declare himself president for life.

I spent my professional career in local government and can say without fear of rational contradiction that the great majority of people working in local government had the best interests of the communities they served at heart. I'm talking about professionals. Politicians were a different kettle of fish. Some - probably the majority - did have the best interest of their constituents at heart. Some, on the other hand, were in politics for what they could get out of it. In the UK when I was working, local government politicians were UNPAID and just received expenses. Now they are professional politicians.

I am, by nature, a very positive person. So THIS WILL BE MY LAST NEGATIVE POST.

I've never been a daily poster like YP and many others of you but my absence from Blogland has been unsettling for me because it's been such a part of my life for so many years.

I'm very fortunate that in my 81st year I'm as busy as I ever was and sometimes busier. Despite so many of my pals having left this mortal coil others have filled the gaps. 

So I'm counting my blessings and hopefully I'll return forthwith to being an active member of the blogging community to which I have belonged for so many years. 

Too Much Thinking

I'm not, by nature, a worrier nor do I usually concern myself with national or international events which I have absolutely no ability to influence. Noone in their right mind would suggest that I, or any other 'ordinary' individual in the UK or probably the world, could influence the potential for an escalation towards another war in Europe arising from the unbelievable actions of one of the most powerful countries in the world. Indeed, many are wondering whether even national and international leaders in Europe have that power either.

What, even a few years ago, seemed unthinkable is now being talked about as a distinct possibility if not quite a probability.

The leader of the US of A keeps telling us that he wants to 'make America great again'. America was already great. I don't know anyone who disputed that.  

However what the current President has done is make the world a very much less safe place. Isolationism and bullying never brings true power. It brings the power of fear and tyranny. That is not TRUE power. It may be the power on which empires were built in the past. Today it simply gives the Putins of this world the go-ahead to do what they like. Today's Europe has been built on the assumption of peace. It would appear that that may have been a mistake. 

Effective world power today is wielded by economic not military might. Today many nations have the physical power and means to control and even to destroy other nations with ease. Any such action would however only produce pyrrhic victories.

In the past nations could become rich and benefit their countries by those means.

The world is too small for that now. The ramifications and the fallout from any nuclear threat or use would simply be too catastrophic to contemplate. Exercise of that power would benefit noone except, possibly and temporarily, some of the world's dictators. And they will be dead by the time the worst of the economic damage manifests itself. 

So will I. 

An Unusual Task

Fifteen or so years ago my phone rang.  "Would you do me a favour and pop over to the house. I've something I'd like you to do for me. Just ring me whenever you manage to get over."

"Okay. It'll be early afternoon. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely."

My friends were in the South of England visiting their old stomping ground. Hence they were unable to fulfill a request from their daughter somewhere miles away.

The daughter had been invited (if I recall correctly) to a formal ball somewhere. She had a dress but needed some special accessories.  When her daughter asked her to ask me, her Mother had whether it was appropriate, to which she got the reply "It's only Graham."

So once I was at the house I made contact and was duly asked to go up to the spare bedroom and in a particular drawer I would be asked to look for something. The 'something' turned out to be a very exclusive black set of slip, bra and knickers. Apart from having never seen such a massive array of underwear before (and, yes, I was once married!) I'd never seen anything quite so exotic, alluring and obviously expensive.

The underwear (and possibly a pair of high heels) was duly despatched the next day and that was that. Until something was said recently and I realised this was something I was never going to live down. So I decided at least to get a blog post out of it!

I should add that the "It's only Graham" has since turned up a number of times in my life. I'm still trying to work out whether it's a compliment

Absent

This is just a quick post of explanation because some have wondered why I wasn't responding to comments in my last post (which I have now done).

On Saturday evening as I was getting into bed my chest tightened up and I got pains and was having difficulty breathing.  At this point it becomes hard to decide whether one is having a heart attack or that the body has gone into panic mode unnecessarily.

I'm not, by nature, a pannicker so I concluded that the rational explanation was heart related. I had had a heart attack many years ago before Blogland existed (I blogged about it here) and I had an 'incident' some years ago which was pronounced a 'false alarm'.

I decided to call an emergency ambulance. It was then that I discovered that my house phone wasn't working. Heaven knows how long that had been the case because I only keep it for emergencies (ironically). Anyway I had my cellphone (which is, I discovered, registered with the emergency services because I've used it before in an emergency).

The outcome was a couple of nights in the High Dependency Unit of the local hospital. We are so fortunate in having a hospital with brilliant care (and no 10 hour queues in A & E).

I was then discharged fit and well again.

However I have to confess that for a while I was a more than a little apprehensive.

Sauna and Swim

Below my house in Bayble Bay there is a beach and a pier and a little working marina for fishing and pleasure boats. All of these facilities are well used. 

At the end of December I also mentioned a rather more unusual facility and today I investigated.

Despite the temperature being in fairly low single figures the sun is shining and down at the beach it's been quite busy with the usual dog walkers. There have also been some of the more hardy wild swimmers who have swum here in the winter for a good few years. Now, however, we have a relatively recent set of users: those having a dip after coming out of the sauna. Yes. We have a sauna at the beach.  

The Middle of the Night

Why is everything so much more concerning if one wakes up in the middle of the night?

I usually wake in the night these days but it's momentary and I'm back asleep before I have time to think about it.

A couple of nights ago I woke up at 1am (ish) having only been asleep a few hours. I went back to sleep but it wasn't 'good' sleep. I was awake again before 3am. This time I couldn't get back to sleep - I was properly awake. At least I felt fully awake.

"Why?" I wondered. In the past if I woke properly there was a discernible reason: usually I would have had rigors which indicated the onset of sepsis to which I am exceptionally prone because of my uretic stent. However it's several years since I had an 'attack' and, so far as I could tell, I felt fine.

But the mind plays silly-beggars at 3am. What if I wasn't okay? I have been known to wake up and been delirious. It's difficult on the phone to the emergency services when one is delirious. Fortunately the emergency services can see my phone number and therefore my  history on their screen. They even know the code for my front door. There is usually an ambulance here quickly. The magic word that scares medics (and me!!) is 'sepsis'. 

I've only had full blown sepsis once and I happened to be in hospital at the time.     I came around from my operation and by the afternoon I was delirious. About  three days later I came around. Of course I just thought I'd been asleep for an hour or two but I was puzzled as to why I had so may tubes all over the place . I felt washed out and woozy but I was fully conscious.

The nurse who happened to be taking readings when I woke said "Well, Graham, good to see you. You've been a bit of a worry." Apparently, according to the doctor, that was a masterful understatement. 

Had I gone to sleep in the middle of the night at home I might not have wakened up at all.  

Anyway after worrying for a short while I went back to sleep and, as you can tell from this post, I woke up again full of life.

Resolutions

I was reading Red's New Year's Day post on the subject of Resolutions. It  reminded me that I'd mentioned New Year resolutions somewhere in the last week or so. I just can't recall where.

Anyway, as usual, I didn't make any. I didn't take a decision not to make any. I just never got around to it. I never do.

Over this last week or so since Christmas I have been out very little. I took a conscious decision to stay in and get some of my 'old' life back: to blog and get back to letter-writing more again. 

I also want to go through the hundreds or thousands of possessions (many of which I probably haven't set eyes on for many years) which occupy every nook and cranny of my reasonably-sized three-bedroom bungalow and see what I can dispose of.  After all there is going to come a point when everything will go simply because of the reality that I shall not be on this mortal coil for ever. 

One of the things I started on was some of the art that I have in cupboards and the loft. I have quite a lot from originals to prints and photographs as well as pottery and other objets d'art. 

For example in storage I have some wonderful original oil portraits and landscapes and still lifes from the 1950s painted by a neighbour who was a retired fruit merchant who devoted the rest of his life to painting. One of them was hung in the RA for an exhibition.  I have some painted by my mother and by my brother CJ and drawings by my father. All those have sentimental value as well as being 'good'. Then I have prints of pictures I have simply because I enjoy them. 

On my walls I have many more works of art which I enjoy every day. I've just counted and there are 38 about 27 of which are originals: the others being prints or copies.

The problem is not so much what to get rid of as how to dispose of those one no longer wants.

The Sin of Pride

Pride is one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

It was drummed into us in our formative years at primary school by Miss Twomey. 

Although my family was Church of England, I went to the small private junior school that my Mother had gone to decades before when it was run by a Miss Smith who was of that faith. By the time I was a pupil the school was run by a Roman Catholic family and teachings were on the basis of that Faith.

Miss Twomey was the principal teacher. Miss Twomey was a witch. A pretty evil witch at that when it came to her dealings with children.

From the inception religious instruction was an important part of the curriculum. I'm sure that by the age of 6, I could recite all my prayers and several verses from various Collects and Epistle by heart. 

At the tender age of 6 or 7 Miss Twomey was lecturing us on the Seven Deadly Sins and in particular the sin of Pride.

So imagine my confusion when I was told to have pride in my work.

In all innocence I asked how I could have pride in my work if that would be a sin.

You can imagine the scene, I'm sure.  73 or 74 years later I'm still standing trembling with fear in front of her as she delivered the dressing down. Unusually she didn't actually hit me.

From that moment on I hated school. Having passed the 11-Plus with flying colours I went to Quarry Bank - a smallish prestigious Grammar School much sought after by parents for their children. I was two classes behind John Lennon.

Much to my parents' distress I'm sure (they were wonderful parents and supported my decision regardless of their disappointment) I left on the first day that I was legally able to leave. 

Happy New Year

I cannot recall when I last made a New Years's Resolution.  Indeed I think the last one I made was not to make any more. Checking my New Zealand blog (because I was in New Zealand for about nine New Years) seems to confirm my thoughts.

So far as I can recall the last New Year that I really celebrated with other people was in New Zealand too. 

When I came to the Island half a century ago this year 'First Footing' was very much the 'thing'. We had very small children and discouraged however well-meaning but drunken people from waking everyone up. I think in our township on Lewis it became almost a thing of the past after one of the neighbours wandered off into the moor in a disoriented and presumably drunken state and his body wasn't found for for years. 

So last night was a WhatsAppfest of good will messages before I made it to bed at 1am.

For those of you who read my blog I wish you a very happy, and above all healthy, year ahead.

I'm hoping to write and read and respond to a lot more blog posts this year. 

Well, that's the plan. 

But first I have to make a few resolutions.