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 |  A third blog? A good idea? A fresh start? A disaster? An omen? ...who knows anything? |
I nearly gave up on blogging and WDC. Then life threw another huge curveball and I felt like giving up on everything. But I'm Scarlett...I keep trying and hoping. I know not where this will go but I take it one day at a time.   |
| My new abode is situated in what is known as a conservation area. This means any alterations to the outside of the house need planning permission from the local council to ensure things are in keeping with the appearance of the area. This is something I approve of. but trying to acquire permission to alter my exterior doors is proving a lot more complicated than I anticipated. My house doesn't have a garden as such. It has a door at the back of the house leading into a small courtyard which is walled and fenced on all sides. This means there is no entry into it which is a bonus security wise, but a bit inconvenient for transporting things from the back to the front of the house. Once open, the door will only close if it is bolted at the top and bottom inside. The front of the house also has a small paved area which is a sun trap and ideal for potted plants. There are two doors at the front of the property; one is an exterior storeroom and the other the main access into the house. This door has a Yale lock which means once the door closes it is locked and can only be opened with a key. Excuse the long introduction, but it is necessary in order to relate my latest tale of disaster. My son works in housing and knows from experience how easy it is to lock yourself out with this type of door. On his sound advice I had a key cut to hide in the storeroom outside, just in case I went outside without my main key and locked myself out. One day last week I decided to sort out my potted plants. In order to transfer one from the back of the property to the front I carried it through the lounge and out through the front door leaving the back door open. As I bent down to deposit the pot in its new position I heard a bang and realised the wind had whipped through the house from the back and blown the front door shut. Thank goodness for my son's advice I thought, secure in the knowledge it wasn't a problem with my hidden key in the storeroom. As I turned to face the storeroom door I was suddenly reminded of something I had done the previous week in an effort to be security conscious. The storeroom holds nothing valuable, but having recently bought the grandmonsters new footballs and outdoor toys I had decided in my wisdom to purchase a padlock for the storeroom door, completely forgetting my spare house key was hidden in there. Clang. Don't panic I told myself Where was the key to the padlock on the storeroom door? In my purse. Where was my purse? Locked in the house. Where did I put the spare key to the padlock? In a drawer in the locked up house. The next thought was to phone my son and see if he could come up with a solution and failing that come out with his key. Where was my phone? In the house. Maybe I could find a friendly neighbour and use their phone to call my son? What is my son's number? I couldn’t remember. Where is his number stored? In my phone in the house. Still trying not to panic I decided the only solution was to see if a neighbour had a ladder and would help me climb over the backyard wall to gain access through the open back door. Not an idea I relished, but either that or call out the fire brigade at great expense and embarrassment. It's a very quiet area where I live, but at that moment I noticed a youngish man walking across the road. After establishing he lived in a house nearby I took him round to the back of the house to show him the wall enclosing my back yard. It is at least eight feet high and covered in tangled ivy, clematis and other climbing plants. Next thing I knew he had climbed onto the wall at the end of the row and was sauntering across the top of the narrow wall without a murmur. From there he dropped into my back yard, went through the back door, across my lounge and opened the locked front door to let me in. What a hero. I now have a spare key hidden outside for the padlock on the storeroom door, but eagerly await the time I can change the front door to something more Scarlett/ Idiot proof. The following day something really strange happened as a result of my lock out, but that's another story. |
| A week ago on Sunday saw temperatures in the UK rising to those we more associate with high summer or holidays abroad. Most unusual, but very welcome particularly as we all knew it wouldn't last. With no family or friends visiting and no plans set in stone I had figured out in my head how I would spend my day. I was expecting a delivery from an online order of a small garden bench and a shoe storage box. The delivery would be between 10am and 1pm so knowing it's usually sooner rather than later with these things, I planned on putting my new bench outside in my sun trap of a front yard and spending the rest of the day sitting out there catching rays, reading and surfing with a glass of dry white. By now I should know better than to make plans. One o' clock arrived and no delivery. By two I was getting a little worried and annoyed so I phoned the company concerned ( see last entry re phone call procedures  )to eventually discover they'd delivered it to my old address. Not sure where the fault lay on that one, but felt concerned as no one had contacted me about this and I didn't particularly want to get in touch with my buyers. Thankfully it transpired that they had not been in when the delivery arrived so it had been left with one of my ex next door neighbours. The operator on the phone suggested I phone them and see if they could arrange for it to be transported to me. This I did and they agreed to hang onto it until I'd contacted my other ex neighbour who visits me to see if she could bring it over sometime. I phoned her and she agreed so I thought I'd better contact the firm involved to let them know the plan. Of course when I finally reached a human being ( see last entry re phone call procedures )it was a different human being to the first one I'd spoken to. This one said it would not be advisable for anyone to transport the goods as I'd paid for them and would have no comeback should the goods be faulty or damaged in transit. This one suggested they pick up the goods for return and arranged a new delivery to my present address. So, I phoned my first neighbour and told them the latest plan but they said seeing as they both work and may not be in my other ex neighbour had been round to collect the goods and had them stored in her garage ready to bring over next time she visited. So I phoned the company concerned ( see last entry re phone call procedures )and told yet another human being the whole story yet again and that the goods were now stored at the other neighbour, not the one they'd left it with. By this time I felt rather weary and decided to make the best of what little sunshine was left by dragging my computer chair outside to enjoy the last of the rays. It was at this exact moment a new neighbour across the road who parks his car outside my house decided to wash and polish his vehicle. Sunday sweet Sunday with nothing to do? Not the relaxing day I'd planned but certainly a case of doing nothing worthwhile. Oh well, there might be another sunny day come summer. |
| One thing I'm able to do more of since moving house is read. Travelling on buses and trains and not living to a timetable frees up more time to get lost in a book, which can only be a good thing. Presently I'm reading the best seller 'A Boy Made of Blocks.' A well written and engaging book, particularly for those of us familiar with the game Minecraft and the condition known as autism. The author Keith Stuart has a dry sense of humour and the rare skill of describing things in the way any amateur writer strives for. I don't know why, but most of my favourite authors are male, yet the sort of males society would probably describe as being in touch with their feminine side. I think Keith Stuart may be another male writer to add to my list. I tell people I am loving my new life in Newark and sorting my house to my liking brings me a great deal of pleasure. Travelling, walking, exploring, seeing friends and new places are filling my days with enjoyable activities and people say they are happy I have reached this stage after so much trauma in the past. What I don't dwell on or talk about much are the other feelings that I suspect would travel with me wherever I roamed and are never fully vanquished, but again I suspect there are many who feel the same way after surviving numerous tough rounds with life. Not feelings easily put into words. Don't you just turn green with envy when someone writes a passage that makes you shiver with empathy and understanding? Sometimes, no matter how eloquent we are or how profound a writer the words we juggle with just don't hack it. I find this happens a lot lately, but this quote from the present novel sums what I mean beautifully. ' Here is a secret about grief. It's kind of an open secret because everyone who has experienced it knows it to be true, but here it is anyway. Grief never really goes away. Time doesn't heal. Not fully. After a while - a few months, a few years maybe grief retreats into the darkest corners of your mind, but it will lurk there indefinitely. It will leak into everything else you do or feel, it will lurch forward when you don't expect it. It will haunt you when you sleep. Time doesn't heal, it cauterises. ' Sometimes words are all we have and I thank the powers that be for those with the talent and skill to sum up the human experience so succinctly and powerfully. God Bless our wonderful writers. I can only hope time will allow me to tell my own story and express my own feelings the best way I can. To touch the souls of those who have suffered loss and offer comfort is surely a worthwhile ambition and one any writer aims for. |
I know we're all familiar with the button pressing and security questions involved in making a business phone call these days, but I swear it gets worse by the day and I'm left wondering where it's all going to end. One big downside of moving house is the amount of phone calls involved. Estate agents, solicitors, utilities, banks, doctors, dentists, hospitals and many more need contacting regarding your change in circumstances. To avoid using the phone I've tried to do as much as I can online, but most websites informed me I needed to phone them. Finding their phone numbers is never as straight forward as you'd imagine either. Once you've dialled then pressed every number on the keypad several times you are always told the lines are extremely busy at that time and to maybe call later or check out the website. It seems to me every person in the country must spend every day on the phone as there 's never a time you don't hear this message. Then follows the question and answer session where whatever company you are phoning requires your name, address, phone number, email address, account number, date of birth, mother's maiden name, height, weight, what's for dinner, colour of underwear and the secret password you can't remember. Finally you are reminded you are in a queue and maybe it would be better to call later or visit the website. In between annoying, repetitive music an automated female voice likes to ask you many questions.'Would you like to hear our options again?' she asks breezily. 'Say yes or no or use the keypad. ' No,' you say in not quite as sweet a tone. 'I'm sorry,' she says, 'I didn't understand your answer. Would you like to hear the question again? Say yes or no or use the keypad.' 'NO,' you say a bit louder. 'I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that.' Half an hour and two coffees later a human voice actually answers the call. I am not racist in any way whatsoever, but you can guarantee every person employed by these companies has the strongest accent from whichever place they originate from. Scottish, Irish, Asian or Alien they all ramble on while you attempt to decipher what it is they are actually saying. Eventually your ears adjust slightly and you realise the first part of the conversation is an enquiry as to whether you'll answer a satisfaction survey once the call is ended. You then repeat every piece of information and answer the same questions as the automated ones before being told you need a different department and then being returned to the irritating music and inane robotic questions. After this process has been repeated several times you may be fortunate enough to eventually have your query answered if you can actually remember what it was the first place. Other times you are informed this is the wrong department and are given a number to call to start the whole procedure all over again. By the time the assistant informs you they need to read out some terms and conditions before going ahead your coffee has been swapped for something stronger and you abandon any other plans for the day realising you'll need to lie down in a darkened room for a few hours. You're just starting to doze off when your phone pings asking if you'd like to rate the call and support received by answering a few questions. By the time you've finished it's dark and you haven't the energy to move until the next morning when the whole routine starts all over again. Alexander Graham Bell has a lot to answer for, but I guess even he couldn't have predicted the complexities of making a phone call in these times. |
| It doesn't take long to get back into that hamster wheel feeling, with time just racing away and feeling I'm not achieving as much as I'd like. C'est la vie. I was going to write a blog on Monday, but I got bogged down with an ongoing debate over a new kitchen order. I was going to write a blog on Tuesday, but I had a visitor to sort out my will, power of attorney and family trust. Serious stuff indeed. I was going to write a blog on Wednesday, but needed a little light relief, so I went to the cinema then sat out in the sunshine for a meal and wine with big Pam. I was going to write a blog on Thursday, but my sister and my niece came over so we could look at curtain fabrics. We didn't get very far, but we enjoyed the wine and meal out. I was going to write a blog on Friday, but John came over for a foot tickling session, then more friends arrived to see my new house and have wine and a meal out. I was going to write a blog on Saturday, but I had to do some shopping and met my friend Jane for coffee, then wine and a meal out. I was going to write a blog tomorrow, but now realise it's tomorrow already and I need to get some sleep. I promise to write a blog on Monday...or maybe Tuesday...or possibly Wednesday... otherwise it could be Thursday ... if not then hopefully Friday... One day at a time sweet Jesus ... |
| Much as I appreciate a modern home, tastefully decorated with everything in good working order , I have never had much interest in DIY or needed to learn how to do practical tasks involving electrics, plumbing, joinery or decorating. The times they are a changing. Since I moved I have learned quite a bit and at one stage after tackling cables, sockets micro filters, hubs and splitters I contemplated applying for a position as an engineer, but on the whole I have to conclude any talents I have do not lie in the field of home improvements. Always willing to try, I decided to set up a basic set of tools for future jobs I might just be able to tackle. I found a set of multicoloured screwdrivers in a local store and thought that would be a good start. The problem now is I can't open the case they are stored in. Maybe I need a screwdriver to complete the task? Next I purchased a hammer, some nails and picture hooks as all my paintings and framed photos are still stacked up and the bare walls are hardly inspirational. I did manage to hang a calendar on a nail in the kitchen, but fear of wrecking plasterwork or piercing any wires or pipes behind walls has halted my progress. Many areas need the paintwork altering or touching up so next I treated myself to a set of paintbrushes. I discovered a tin of paint in the outdoor storeroom and thought I might just tackle a few areas on the outside doors. After half an hour I gave up as I couldn't get the lid off the paint. Returning to the hardware store I studied the huge array of paints available. Terms like matt, gloss, satin, undercoat, acrylic, emulsion, distemper, primer and solvents befuddled my tiny brain, so remembering there's a metal bracket for a hanging basket on the outside wall I decided I'd keep it simple and attempt to paint that with some plain black metal paint. Home I came clutching my new wares only to discover I can't reach the bracket on the wall. Looks like the next shopping mission could involve ladders, though I fear the way things are going I may just fall off it. |
One reason I chose the house I'm now living in is the fact it is very close to the River Trent. I have always loved water - being on it, in it or around it I find a rare feeling of peace. However, that doesn't mean I like it falling from the sky, even though I realise we need it and couldn't live without it. I fear before long Newark will start investigating why there has been so much rain these past few weeks and may discover the weather witch is now a resident. Newark is a very historical market town and I suspect many so called witches have been condemned here over the years. I hope I'm not going to be the first in modern times. It's a little frustrating when I want to be out exploring and walking, but I know I need to be patient and wait for spring and summer to really get out and about. Having said that I have managed to walk the recommended ten thousand steps most days and it's no problem as the scenery and lively streets make it a pleasure. Apart from the rain that is. Dennis has decided he doesn't like the rain either having been drenched a couple of times, but I guess the local ducks love it. There have been some dry and brighter days enabling me to take some photos, but hopefully I'll be able to add many more in the future. I'll post a link below. How pleasing it is to actually want to take photos of my home town. A novelty indeed and as you'll see Dennis is settling in well too. |
I have now been in my new home for ten days. It's not long, but I'm already convinced I have made the right decision. A totally fresh start in a new place means life has changed a lot. Of course I'm still me and unfortunately I can't do a great deal about that. Circumstances and the past can't be altered either, so I know I will carry the heartache of loss for the rest of my days, but that is something that comes to us all in time. Acceptance, faith and hope are as much as we can ask for. But this is a different phase, almost certainly the last of my lifetime. My friend John calls it my 'third life.' There was the life before my marriage, the years I spent with my husband and now the time without him lies ahead. But it will always be one day at a time sweet Jesus. Moving day was stressful I won't lie, but it was mainly the attitude and behaviour of my buyers that caused the problems. But they are not part of my life now so there is little point dwelling on it. The ten days I have lived in Newark have been very busy with many practical formalities to attend to, but every day has been a pleasure in many ways. The house, the location, the town, the river, the countryside all hold special charms which put a smile on my face every day, Dennis has settled very well too and has started going out exploring the world. It's a very quiet and safe area for a cat so I don't worry too much when he doesn't arrive home before his bedtime. The weather I can do nothing about and it has been pretty drab and wet, yet it hasn't stopped me getting out and about and enjoying this lovely place. I have achieved a lot in ten days and have already met some very pleasant people as well as seeing my established friends. Today has been a much brighter day so I have walked along the river, around the castle, churchyard and the town taking photographs which I hope to post once I have the Internet up and running properly This is a town full of history, natural beauty and quirkiness. Large enough to find new things to explore each day, yet compact enough to get around on foot. It has many lovely walks to tackle. I shall be sorting my things out for a long time to come as alterations and improvements are made to the house. I already feel like I never want to see another box ever again but you know me; never want to complain  |
I can't say as the first month of this new year has been particularly pleasant and definitely not peaceful. At present I feel like a headless chicken and a blue bottomed fly combined, running round in circles with an endless list of things do, formalities and unpleasant experiences. So far ...  Dennis the cat went to the vets to be neutered and microchipped. Due to complications he required further surgery which has resulted in doubling the cost, several more visits to the vet when time is of the essence and the fitting of a hood of shame or a plastic bucket thing on his head for the rest of this week. I'm familiar with these things on dogs, but keeping one on a cat is a totally different ball game. Solicitors are proving their communication skills with each other and their clients leaves a lot to be desired. Emails and phone calls have been very excessive this week when I least need the hassle. I have received a nasty and threatening email from my late husband's brother which is obviously due to my stepdaughter's complaints and demands and as usual it's all about money. I refuse to become involved in family feuds or to be treated without any respect for my feelings or situation so it seems that branch of the family will become estranged. Very sad and a shame, but I won't take the blame for their fixed ideas and unreasonable demands. As the old saying goes - Where there's a will there's a...family. The book my friend John and I are having published has now almost doubled in cost from the original quote, just when we both have heavy financial responsibilities. But if we wish to see the book in print there is little we can do. Anyone know the winning lottery numbers for this week? England trembles with the forecast of heavy snowfall and freezing temperatures and the nation begins panic buying to stock up on what they consider to be essentials. This country just can't cope with any extreme conditions and is thrown into chaos as a result. So far we haven't seen one flake of snow but if it does start no doubt it will be at the most inconvenient time possible. But amongst all the complaints I have what I hope will be one piece of good news. From the 24th of this month I should be living in a new home in my favourite town of Newark and my fresh start begins. (snow/floods permitting) My new address makes people smile.   |
| It's believed the world has lost more celebrities during 2016 than any other year. Indeed there have been some shocking and unexpected famous losses throughout the year, which is very sad I agree. But life is precarious and fragile for us all and much as we'd prefer to keep these famous folk amongst us, I fail to see why people post heartbroken, hysterical messages on social media as if they are related to these people. Unless you have lost a loved one this year; a partner, a parent, a close family member or a great friend, you cannot really relate to how true grief really feels. Neither is it easy to put into words, but I do know one thing for sure and that is the death of a loved one is a life changing event. Without a doubt 2016 has been the worst year of my life, but I won't dwell on the negatives or wallow in self pity as there is little point in doing either. There have been some good times and high points amongst all the pain and desperation and I am just thankful to have pulled through enough to cope with daily life. For that I will always be grateful to family and friends who have stuck by me regardless of how bad things were. Humbug and New Year have never been my favourite times as many already know, but facing the first anniversary of my husband's passing is something I couldn't have contemplated this time last year. It will be a quiet, pensive evening at home for myself and Dennis (I never anticipated adopting a cat either) and one of us will certainly be raising a glass or five to those no longer with us. I certainly won't be making any resolutions or ambitious plans as my mantra of one day at a time sweet Jesus is something I try to cling to. But as stated previously, loss is a life changing event and I do know that all being well I will be facing some challenging and drastic changes in 2017. All I ask for is the ability to cope each day and to do some good with the time I have left on this mortal coil. For my readers I wish you good health and contentment, for those things are precious. The cycle of life continues - keep pedalling. Below is a link to the photographs of one of the highlights of my year. https://www.flickr.com/photos/145341414@N03/ |
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) I try to dress according to the color of the day. Thursday is orange. Once I dress accordingly I only need to look at what I'm wearing to be reminded. 
If I put on the wrong color though...
