I have decided to change the title of these 7-day scribblings
to; 'As I recall..', followed by the relavent week-ending date.
My theory? That without the words 'Catch-Up' persistently
taunting me, I might actually improve...
I made a decision the previous night, (late on Saturday),
that I would allow myself the luxury of remaining in bed
on Sunday morning, without feeling like a bad person for
doing so. If you are one of those special people whom
nature saw fit to supply with a reinforced guilt evader,
(detector, preventer... forestaller – I still don’t know what
it is extra that you have, only that I personally lack them
all and more), I know it’s wrong of me but I envy you.
There, I’ve said it. No...NOOO ...Please don’t take that
the wrong way. It’s not your fault – it’s not even a bad
thing. Really. It’s a good thing. It means I would rather
be like you than me, that’s all. It doesn’t necessarily
make you a psychop... (Oh no, please don’t let me have said that
out loud. Think quickly... What does that look mean? Startled – angry?
Unsure?) The Psychicperson I was about to liken you to
was also very good at foreseeing oncoming potential
guilt trips, as you would imagine ... but You might not
imagine all that kind of thing to be relevant, which is
why I stopped abruptly.
As it happens I got up before 9am, which was a bit of a
lay in. What about you? No, of course I don’t have to ask,
I was just trying to be polite. What? I go out of my way
to... Huh. Well perhaps my instincts were not so wrong...
(Now, why did I have to have that stupid thought?).
Don’t you just hate it when Windows sends a messenger
into your monitor without an invitation or prior warning,
wearing a Microsoft version (whatever number) ‘invisibility
cloak’, stating that your version of windows 7/vista/XP
might not be genuine. You know that it is genuine because
you bought it and loaded it, or have the disk with the shiny
seal to prove it... or at least the key stuck to your machine.
You don’t? Well for the sake of me retaining my balance on
this highish horse, would you mind just imagining yourself
into one of the aforementioned scenarios for a minute or two?
Please – believe me, I am the last person who would want to
ruin your street-cred... okay not the last, but can I just go
on anyway? Thank you.
I expect those of you who have been here before on this site,
will already have guessed the real scenario that brought this
annoyance to my mind and your screen. Yes, the fiasco occurred
as I set about repairing Outlook on mySon’s PC, (I’d forgotten
to ask for and hence add his email password when I upgraded
the machine a couple of months ago). For those of you still
mystified and I refer to the non-prior-readers specifically due
to the fact that as people get to know me they gain... an
awareness very often of what I am thinking and what I am
going to say. Sometimes when it happens I am not 100% or
even 35% sure myself. It’s uncanny really, not entirely pleasant
but definitely true. So often when I am talking to friends on
the ‘phone for instance, although it could just as easily be
in person, I'm replying to their question 'what have I been up
to?', and nearly every time, when I get to the inevitable part
I wat to leave out I'm interupted with: “You didn’t” or, “Don’t
tell me, noooo..” or similar, followed by a breakdown of all that
I wanted to hide, oft times accumpanied by hoots of laughter.
From these my psychic friends, who then proceed to tell me,
quite insincerely I think, that they do understand because they
do the same things, or the same things happen to them – which
is not true and they know that I know that, which makes it worse.
Am I such an open book? (Perhaps I’ve said too much, put off the few that
actually have visited before by exaggerating the numbers and scared any newbie’s to
death. How to backtrack without looking even crazier? Don’t know) Ha-ha Just
Once I had sorted Outlook I realised that nasty Mr Microsoft was
accusing meof ‘possibly’ using a counterfeit copy of Windows 7. As I had bought, loaded, etc, etc – how dare he! Unfortunately
I didn’t have the original disk with the magic key with me at the
time, but next time, let him beware!
Between 7.00 and 7.30 every Tuesday morning, the bin men
trundle down my street on their enormous Tonka trucks, one
week collecting biodegradable, the next all non-biodegradable
items, with the exception on both weeks of anything that falls
under the heading of ‘papers’ or ‘tins, plastic bottles and
containers’ and ‘glass’, as they will be collected by the second
arm of the troupe, who collect their wares in separate baskets
every week at around 10 am. There are a few other ‘must not’s’
regarding rubbish putting ... throwing away ... of. But I don’t
want to confuse you.
I expect that it is quite a good system once it has bedded
in and everyone is used to it. It has been going a good few
years now and I’m quite used it, and I don’t think it is too bad.
Up until a couple of months ago though, it used to drove me
mad. (Not literally, of course). At that time I had 1x medium
sized black bin, 3 different sized baskets and green bags that
I had to buy from the Civic Centre, as I had no space for a
green bin when the scheme was first brought in. On many
occasions, having judiciously parked my bin or bags with
baskets readyfor collection next day, I have been sorely let
down by the site of the same, still sitting solemnly staring
down the street, as if willing the bin men back or themselves
to Tonka town. I have ‘phoned the headquarters on their
behalf, on many occasions only to be told that ‘it will be
sorted’, as if that makes up for everything. hero’s no longer
drive on by.
In June I was contemplating summer and wondering, if we get
one will it be worth redesigning the back garden – again? Is it
a realistic proposition? (Give me a break –you really asked that?) Okay.
I jiggled things around in my head (visually) and found space
(next to the other bin, where I piled the green bags). Without
wasting another moment, I called the relevant head office
again, this time requesting my very own green bin... which I
had delivered to my door within 5 days. I was so happy - it
was even bigger than the black one! In my delight I
immediately got onto the internet and ordered some (rather
expensive) biodegradable bags to go inside and keep her nice
and clean.I am going to miss out the part about the delay in
their arrival and then only one pack of ordinary bin bags turning
up, as I don’t want to break your happy mood – so, what I
will say is that the packs of bags I then ordered came quickly,
and... can you guess? They fit so snugly, she’s still wearing
the first one I put on her. I think the other 19 will outlive me
ha, ha. Oh, I nearly forgot – the Tonka trucks and my new
On Wednesday morning I had two telephone calls, both
quite independent of each other yet both with similar
requests. The first was from an old friend, by which I mean
one I have known since babyhood and been friends with ever
since. She wanted me to look up the contact details of a
famous Cruise Ship Company that she and hubby had booked
(another) holiday on. I did so and tried to forget all I saw once
the call ended. I never thought myself the cruise-type-person,
nor does it bother me that I can’t go away in the foreseeable
future nor have I been able to... I like my own company.
Actually I don’t, but I prefer to be on my own. It was just that
looking at that website, at all that food, and sun... I think I
bookmarked the page in case she needs it again.
A short while later someone else ‘phoned me on their mobile,
asking me to text them back the full postal address of a GP’s
surgery. Moodily contemplating my image: accessible, never
busy, always on the computer, I retrieved the data as
requested. On doing so I noticed that, as often these days,
there was a SKYPE number link which, being a bit of a gadget
magnet, I thought about clicking before copying and pasting the
number into the Prog/App on my Desktop. Now, a whole new
world was opened up to me. I had text with SKYPE a good many
times, had even changed my SKYPE number to my main mobile
number, so not to confuse the recipient. What I hadn’t done
before, had not even thought of doing, was cutting and pasting.
I don’t know why I hadn’t ... but I cut those GP’s details and
I pasted them and I watched to make sure they got home safely
...then it came to me – theoretically, I need never fumble over
nasty vindictive predictive text ever again. All I need do is load
my mobile with... hang on, think; I’ll only answer my text messages
at home, which is easy as I only go out just once a week and
hardly get any anyway, then paste the replies from words I
have cleverly cut from the internet. It needs work, but I’ve
got a feeling this could take off.
Last Thursday I shot a fly. It was very large and contemptuous
of my presence, as it swept my personal space repeatedly, just
because it could. That was no excuse; I realise that now, as I
think I did when my finger hit the trigger. I am a pacifist by
nature and abhor all violence. Yet I still took the shot.It was the
sound of the fly that initially caused me to take notice, not the
sight of him, as he was very fast moving. To get a closer look,
to confirm to my own satisfaction the type of intruder the creature
came under I mapped and shrunk paths, closed doors and blocked
exits, until we were sealed within the same cell. Only then could I
see for sure that it was indeed a rotund, blue-bellied fly and not a
wasp or indeed a Bee which would have called for a different
Did I tell you about the wounded Bee that flew up onto my lap one
afternoon this spring? I swear it looked to me for help. It stayed on
there for some minutes, turning in this direction and that until, I
suppose it realised it would do better elsewhere. I watched, guiltily
of course as he fluttered and landed or fluttered and fell. But then,
just as I was feeling desperate for him, he flew up into a
cotoneaster bush that sits between a high wall and even higher
fence on the upper tier of my tiny haven... only to swoop back
down onto my arm. Someone told me recently – or maybe I read it,
either way I certainly believe it to be true; Bees can recognise faces,
ergo he had come specifically to me for aide and I failed him. Once
he realised that, he gave up on me and left. I never saw him again.
By adapting my outdoor environment to suit their needs, growing
lavender hedges and rosemary in the front and many Bee attracting
plants in the back garden, my aim was to merge our Human and
Apidae cultures. I’ve always loved honey. But... could my bias be
held against me, might it be seen as premeditation; that I had every
intention of murder unless the intruder was in fact a friendly species? (Think – did you admit to leaving the remains of the take-away by the sink as bait or
the offending killer aerosol by my side?... I DON’T KNOW... it was just one shot).
On Friday I took a detour en route to see my mother, stopping
at the bank in the town and looking in a few of the shops nearby.
One of those was a disabled shop or, more accurately a shop
selling items designed to assist disabled people and their carers.
(The shop itself looked as fit for purpose as any other). My hope
on entering was that I might see an object or gadget that I could
take with me as a useful gift; the shop assistant had other ideas.
Upon seeing me, or should I say my walking aide, he was by my
side in a healthy heart beat, pity, understanding and condescension
in equal measures dripping from his tongue. It took me a very short
time to realise that I was invisible and made no sound, which was
perfect. It left me to imagine the fun I could have with one of the
scooters he had skilfully guided me towards.
There were four or five of them, varying in size design and no
doubt, price. My eyes fixed on the one that looked a bit like a quad
bike, although it only had three wheels and I don’t suppose many
quad bikes have baskets on the front. Anyway, it was big and bulky
– and would look ok if it was lovingly adorned with some carefully
chosen spray paints. My arm crutch must have been pointing in that
direction as the salesman’s smile had become quite sinister; I took
that to mean I had, as usual, picked the most expensive.
My son, who had been in the shop next door had by now entered
to see if I was okay. He is unnecessarily protective, but saw
immediately by my expression that I was, which then caused his to
change to concern. Also unnecessary. Whilst the Patronising shop
assistant finally came to realise my presence and my own son tossed
up whether or not to try to get me out of the shop before I did or said
something he might regret, I sat myself behind the wheel of the
biggest scooter-with-potential-attitude and thought what havoc I
could wreak: not being able to drive, having severely reduced
peripheral vision, frequently bashing into things already when I’m
It’s never to be, but it was fun playing.
By the time I got up on Saturday morning, the Sunday’s and parts
of Monday’s Catch-Up were already roughly written. After several
false starts, by 12.30pm I had fixed my oversized behind to a
perching stool in the kitchen and continued sitting there until 11.30pm
when I admitted defeat.
Actually I did reclaim the towel that I’d thrown in a little later and
edited some of the copy, even tried to tidy up some of the presentation.
Not for any guilt-induced reason this time: I simply took my 6pm meds
5.5hrs late and, since among other things, they enable me to get off to
sleep (but take hours to kick in), it felt easy to split the next four hours
between the soft end of writing and quietly, watching a film that I had
not yet seen.
Thank you once again for looking in and I hope you have a lovely week.
If you are interested in reading previous weeks catch-ups, please find links
under logo at top of page.