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Helplines were sent to try us
Having moved, I need a replacement driving licence. Years ago this was straightforward; all that was necessary was to fill in sections of the old one and send it to the DVLA. Times have changed. I have to fill in another form and I need to prove my identity. The photograph of myself that is now required isn't good enough even though it is signed by someone who's known me for many years. I have to send my birth certificate as well because I have no passport. I am reluctant to do this because, if the Post Office doesn't lose it, the DVLA will.
Some post offices will check applications and ID documents to save having to send the latter with the applications. I phoned the number given on the instructions accompanying the form to find out which was the nearest PO to me that did this. What a business that was. I think the PO get the prize for the most frustrating helpline I have encountered so far. Helpline is not the word I'd use.
The phone is answered by a recorded voice telling me that my call will be monitored for quality purposes. I doubt that; it's to discourage callers from swearing. Another recorded voice tells me to press one if I want one thing or to wait if I want something else. I wait. Another recorded voice then gives me a choice of three or four things. I press a number though am doubtful if it's the correct one. None of the options seem relevant. Yet another recorded voice gives me a list of five options, none of which seem relevant, so I press nothing. The voice apologises for not recognising my choice, so I press a number. Music plays and eventually a woman speaks.
I ask for the nearest post office to me that will check my driving licence application. She tells me that I need the helpline and will put me through. More music. Another woman speaks; I ask the same question; she tells me I have dialled the wrong number and will put me through to the correct one. More music. Eventually another woman answers and tells me which PO will check my application.
I catch the train to the town and queue in the PO. The woman at the counter tells me that the service checks only passports. I have to send my birth certificate to the DVLA.
I catch the next train home. No one collected or stamped my tickets so I wonder if I could use them again.
My trip wasn't entirely wasted as I borrowed a book about DIY from the library.
Thought for today
The English approach to ideas is not to kill them, but to let them die of neglect.
Jeremy Paxman (1950 - ) The English: a portrait of a people, 1998
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1.9.06 22:10
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The clearout continues
Got rid of furniture today. Two chaps arrived with a large van and carted off my parents' beds, their fitted wardrobes, the drop-down bed in one of the single bedrooms, two greasy armchairs and the freezer from the garage.
My parents' beds were in poor condition, the mattresses in particular. I've seen better by the side of roads. My mother will have my bed and I shall sleep on the mattress from the drop-down bed. She offered to sleep on that but, if she could get down onto it, I doubt she could get up from it.
Yesterday a man phoned in reply to our advertisement about a bookcase for sale. He turned up today with his brother, gave me £30, and they carted it off on the roof of their car. If he'd phoned today it would have gone with the house clearance men.
I borrowed another book about DIY from the library. While I was there I read the local paper's review of last Sunday's airshow. 'A heavy-lift Chinook HC 2 defied gravity to conduct an astonishing aerial ballet. With its 7000hp engine at full blast and twin rotors spinning it pirouetted, spiralled, dived and rose at all kinds of angles helicopters allegedly just can't do. Aerobatics virtuoso Will Curtis in the Road Anger Sukhoi 26 M2 performed seemingly suicidal 250mph vertical climbing tumbles and rolls.'
Thought for today
People who are lonely are those who do not know what to do with the time when they are alone.
Quentin Crisp (1908 - 1999) In Sunday Telegraph 28 September 1999
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2.9.06 21:38
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Slowly but surely
Tomorrow I have one of my least favourite jobs, that of shifting furniture in preparation for work. Electricians are due to arrive to bring the wiring up to date. The fusebox needs replacing as do many of the wall sockets because they have no on/off switches. Some of the ceiling pendants need replacing too as they are worn. That means another job for me is to remove the lampshades which, I bet, will be covered in dust. I haven't ventured much above waist height yet in my cleaning.
Tomorrow's work will mean disruption; the little order I have created will be undone. I wonder if I should fill thermos flasks with hot water so I can make cups of tea.
The helpful neighbour, whom I shall refer to as HN from now, has been researching fence panels. He came round this morning with his findings so far. He had looked at the prices in Wickes and another place and had B&Q, Homebase and a local shop still to check. He suggested the panels were delivered to his house, then a neighbour could help him insert them into the concrete posts. Someone else had a van big enough to take them to another person who had an indoor wood-burning stove that heated his house. He had it all planned. Made me feel feeble in comparison. What could I do? Make the tea was all I could think of. Actually, I can start digging up the ivy that is growing up the fence and remove all its roots.
One battle I am winning is that against the ground elder. My repeated squirtings have paid off; little remains. Each evening I go out with my container of noxious chemical and spray any shoots that have dared to sprout.
I shall hastily stop now because a large insect has flown in through the open window and is buzzing around in the lampshade directly above my head.
Thought for today
Life is the funny thing that happens to you on the way to the grave.
Quentin Crisp (1908 - 1999) in Spectator, 20 November 1999
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3.9.06 21:16
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Something nasty in the white bag
As I ate my breakfast in the kitchen this morning, a woman walked past with a dog on a lead in one hand and a plastic bag with something small in the other - turds - and the thought killed my appetite. What do people do with their little bags of turds? Do they dump them in their wheelie bins? Could this be why residents are complaining about the fortnightly, instead of weekly, collections of rubbish? Do they fill their bins with shit though don't like to say so?
I found another stash of out-of-date medicines, this time in the cabinet in the shower room. Night nurse Aug 1994, Lemsip Oct 1997 and Benylin Nov 2002. There were eight little bottles of nail polish, some so old they had solidified, two ancient bottles of eye drops that my mother had stopped using years ago (why hadn't she thrown them out?) and a small tube of moisturising cream for leather shoes.
The electricians arrived shortly after 8am just as I had almost finished clearing paths to the sockets that needed replacing. Shifting two bookcases for this I disturbed several spiders, the sort with the little bodies and thin weedy legs, the sort that look malnourished. There were none with chunky bodies and thick hairy legs, the sort that are easier to catch and throw out of windows.
I removed the lightshades from the pendants that needed replacing. As I expected the dust on these was dreadful. I have never seen so much dust in my life. The debris, dust and cobwebs behind the bookcases was pretty spectacular too. Miss Haversham in Great Expectations springs to mind.
Thought for today
Calamities are of two kinds: misfortunes to ourselves and good fortune to others.
Ambrose Bierce (1842 - c1914) The Cynics Word Book, 1906
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4.9.06 20:49
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No respite
The electricians arrived again this morning to complete their work. It took them till 3.30pm. Two lights in the sitting room should have been on separate cables instead of being wired in the way considered adequate 35 years ago. We either had to have them come on together, which would have been simple to do but perhaps not so good for watching the telly, or keep them separate as they were but clear two bedrooms so the chaps could lift the carpets and lay a new cable under the floorboards.
I chose the second option so had to clear the bedroom floors as quickly as possible. With the amount of disruption that already exists, a bit more makes little difference.
One of the electricians moved the sideboard to gain access to a socket that needed replacing. I glanced behind the sideboard and was glad that I did. What a collection of stuff. As well as the usual dust, there were: a Mini Maglite torch with uncorroded batteries but no bulb; half a packet of polos; a tube of chocolate powder to put on coffee; a teaspoon; a bottle opener; £1.01; two small pieces of mica; a small reel of cellotape; a pair of secateurs; a pair of forceps; a box of matches; an artificial poppy; several peanuts and a rubber band.
The HN came round to say that he had ordered the fence panels which would be delivered on Friday. After tea I cleared the ivy from one fence panel and dug up a holly bush that was caught in the ivy. Tomorrow I shall have to go to the tip again. When will my life return to normal? Will my life return to normal?
Quote of the day
A bore is man who, when you ask him how he is, tells you.
Bert Leston Taylor (1866 - 1921)
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5.9.06 21:31
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Changing times
My mother went back into the care home yesterday to join my father. I took the evening off and watched telly. My father still recognises both of us. I recognise some of the other residents now. Gladys is usually on the prowl; Babba (my name for her) sits in chair, smiles and says 'Babba' loudly every few minutes; Frank walks around asking people what time supper is.
Posted my application for a replacement driving licence to the DVLA. It cost me £1.20 to send it and £4.50 to include the special delivery envelope for them to return my birth certificate in.
Phoned the Public Guardianship Office to enquire about my application to buy my parents' house. They received it a week after I posted it, (so much for the first class recorded delivery) and have fifteen days in which to reply. I should hear by the end of next week.
Some Labour MPs want Tony Blair to go; they are probably not the only ones. They want a new leader. However, they do not say what they dislike about his leadership other than they didn't like the way he handled the fighting in Lebanon recently. They seem to have forgotten about the invasion of Iraq. They don't say why another leader will be better or what they want him or her (probably a him) to do. They are tired of the old and want a change. Change for changes's sake; no real plans. No way to run a household, or a business, let alone a country. They are almost making him out to be a dictator. Surely they must agree to his half-baked ideas for them to become policies, unless I have misunderstood the nature of the government.
Thought for today
Democracy is the name we give the people whenever we need them.
Robert, Marquis de Flers (1872 - 1927) and Armand de Caillavet (1869 - 1915) L'habit vert, 1913
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7.9.06 20:44
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Natural beauty
There was a full moon last night. It was still visible early this morning as I strode along my usual footpath. Mist was rising from the fields as if drawn towards the moon directly above them. When I reached the top of the hill the sun had risen. It shone with a yellow glow through the trees. Beautiful. There was a story in the news about a 93 year old woman who had bronchitis and difficulty getting up from chairs. Social Services wouldn't provide her with a special chair costing £1000 that would make her life easier. She and her daughter were annoyed by this. The reporter said, without elaborating, that the old woman had worked hard all her life, as if this made her a deserving case. Everyone is so strapped for cash these days that soon old folk will be lucky to qualify for incontinence pads. Thought for today
Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.
Benjamin Disraeli (1804& - 1881) The Young Duke, 1831
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8.9.06 20:20
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