Catalogue of disaster

I'm overstating it, of course. And my plight doesn't nearly compare with all those poor folks who've been affected by the flooding over the last couple of weeks. But, really... There comes a point when I have to wonder if some kind of divine retribution is at work here. And clever retribution it would be too. A long list of minor inconveniences, one on top of the other, at a time when other people, not too far away, are experience major inconveniences, so complaining is churlish.

But I'm going to be churlish, because I feel like it. I'm grumpy, OK? And here's why: the last couple of weeks have gone like this...

1. My satellite TV card decided to disable itself. These things happen with Sky TV and, after phone them twice and going through the usual call centre rigmarole (press 1 for annoying message telling you that weather affects your reception; press 2 for 12 more options; etc.), I received a new card in the post and everything was back to normal.

then...

2. My broadband stopped working. Nothing I did would bring it back to life, so I thought we'd all sleep on it. No better. I unplugged everything, plugged it back in again. Nothing. I waited another day, unable to face the BT call centre rigmarole so soon after Sky. Just in case, I unplugged it all again, plugged it all back in and it worked. Hurrah!

then...

3. My water tank began to overflow. No big drama - it has an overflow pipe for this very reason. But the dripping is annoying, plus water wastage in the current climate is clearly unacceptable. And if it goes on too long I get white streaks down the wall. So my Dad offered to come and fix it for me. New washer. Bob's your uncle.

then...

4. My oven stopped working. It tripped the fusebox, and now the fan blows and the light comes on, but there's no heat. And heat's important in an oven. My cooker has a top oven, so I can use that. And all the other bits of it work. But it's not an old cooker and it's going to be hassle to get someone to fix it. Plus it might still have a warranty, but I need to look through all my unfiled paperwork to check.

then...

5. My phone line went dead. I went away last weekend and when I came home the phone was completely dead. Dead. I went online to report it (at work because, of course, without my phone line - no broadband...) but you can't just report a fault these days. Oh no! I had to check that it wasn't my equipment that caused the problem. If it was, and they sent an engineer, they would charge me a squillion pounds and I'd no doubt get a stern dressing down from a grumpy engineer. So they really don't let you report the fault until you've gone through a number of hoops to check that there really is a fault with their line. And, of course, I was scared to fib and pretend I'd jumped through said hoops, because an engineer would be quick to spot un-jumped-through hoops. Oh yes. So, I tested a variety of phones. Plugged things in, unplugged them, removed sockets to reveal secret other sockets, etc. And the line was still just as dead. Dead. So I phoned BT, went through the rigmarole, was told my call was important to them and they would be with me as soon as possible but I could ring back on Sunday if I liked (I didn't), told the nice lady my line was dead, the nice lady told me to do all the things I'd already done (and clearly didn't quite believe that I'd done them), so she booked an engineer to visit 2 days later. Which he did. And he fixed the line - their line, not mine, so no squillion pound bill, thank you very much. Phew!

But then...

6. My TV stopped working. Well, not the TV itself, but the reception. All of it. Analogue, digital, terrestrial, satellite, ethereal, everything. My neighbour had the same problem. Clearly the communal aerial/digital/dish thing had a fault. I ring the council. They deny all knowledge of a communcal aerial/digital/dish thing on the building (that they had put up just a couple of months ago) and suggested I ring Sky. I politely and calmly explained that all the TV wasn't working and that the aerial/etc thing was the council's responsibility. The man at the council who did know all about that kind of thing was out until the following morning, so my current man promised to send him an email so he could deal with it and call me back. He didn't. I called them and was told it had been reported to the contractors who would come and fix it "whenever they get round to it". That's an actual quote - "Whenever they get round to it". They haven't done it yet, so I've been 3 days without TV. That's about the same amount of time that people in Gloucester have been without running water, but at least they've been told when they might get it back.

Sigh...

7. No TV reception means I have to find other ways to entertain myself - like they did in the old days. I know! I'll watch the Capote DVD that I specially signed up to Amazon DVD rental for. Perfect. Nice cup of tea and a couple of biscuits. Start film. "Unable to read disc." No, silly, obviously you can read the disc... There you are! Scene 1. Scene 2. Scene 4. Scene 7. "Unable to read disc."

AARGH!

8., etc. My clock has stopped - it needs a new teeny tiny, can't buy it in the shops, battery. Of course it does. The blind in my kitchen has come down. I just need to find my staple gun to fix it. I don't know where my staple gun is. My candle lighter is out of gas. My gas is out of gas. I need to buy a new can of gas.

All of these simple things are now beyond me, as I have lost the will to do everyday chores. Just one more thing is likely to push me over the edge. It could be a blown light bulb or some spilt milk. Anything. I'm going on holiday on Saturday and, by golly, I need it. I just hope I don't break Wales...

If you're still with me, I thank you for your fortitude and hope that this post finds you with only trivial irritants and no real disasters to upset you.

Just finised reading...

Pies and Prejudice

by Stuart Maconie

I always enjoy listening to Stuart Maconie on Radio 2, with Mark Radcliffe, so I thought I'd give his book a go.

It's part travelogue, part history, part love story. He never preaches about how great it is up North, nor how soft us Southerners are. Nor does he paint the North as grim. He tells it as he finds it, with a few historic embellishments and some anecdotes to add colour.

I felt educated by this book and was left with a desire to read up on some of the more interesting bits, and to make a point to follow in some of his footsteps.

Showing my ignorance

I'm not sleeping well lately - I don't know why, but let's put it down to stress, as this seems as good a reason as any...

The upside is that I'm getting a lot of reading done (in between the nodding off, dropping my book, ah this must be sleep, turn off the light, lie staring at the ceiling for half an hour, give up and do it all again).

While I was reading last night I came across two things I don't know: where is the Sargasso Sea, and what does sinecure mean? Normally I'll just pretend that I know and move on. But this time I thought I'd remember those things and find them out. That way, I'm bettering myself, right? So today I've learnt two new facts, but whether I'll still know them in a few weeks time is another question...

The Sargasso Sea is in the middle of the North Atlantic.

Sinecure means (in the context in which I read it) a position or office that requires little or no work but provides a salary.

Tell me your newly-gained knowledge and we can all benefit from this shared wisdom.

8 things I know about me

Thanks for the tagging, PT. Just like Mum, you've already tagged my potential taggees, so I'm cheating, but I'll divulge the habits and facts, just because I like lists.

1. Fact: I like lists. They are rarely of any use, but they make me feel like I'm organised. I'm not.

2. Habit: Picking and scratching and other nastiness. My tedious skin issues mean that I am constantly itchy and scabby. It's horrible and the thing I'd like to change most about myself.

3. Fact: I was born on the exact same day as Ice Cube.

4. Habit: I have a slight obsessive compulsive thing about making sure my doors are locked at night. There's a ritual I have to do or I can't sleep.

5. Fact: I'm scared of the dark.

6. Fact: I accidentally (honest!) shoplifted the book of the film of Ghostbusters, from John Menzies in Staines. The shop's not there any more, so I think I got away with it.

7. Fact: I can't wear bright green. Or orange.

8. Habit: I procrastinate. In order to finish this, I had to go and get hot chocolate and a cookie, look at Facebook and check my email.

Just finished reading...

In Cold Blood
by Truman Capote

Well, what can I say? It's a classic, isn't it? (I know it is, it says so on the cover - "Penguin Classics".) This has been on my 'should read' pile for quite a while now, and I'm glad I finally got round to it. I've wanted to see the film (Capote) for ages now, but I really wanted to read the book first.

In Cold Blood is Capote's analysis of a truly gruesome crime that took place in Kansas in the '50s. The book was hugely controversial on its release in 1966 and not surprisingly, since Capote seeks to humanise and understand the perpetrators of this apparently motiveless crime. However at no point does he sympathise with, or apologise for, their actions - he tells it like it is, giving you the facts and letting you make up your own mind. At the same time, you will get to know the victims and the investigators, and a number of other characters affected by the murders. Capote never makes judgements here (quite a feat considering how involved he became with the central players), but he leaves it to the reader to draw conclusions about the issues addressed.

Important things I have to get done this weekend

1. Some washing. I'm out of clean, normal knickers. Today I'm wearing fancy, 'only for best', 'hold it all in' knickers. Just on a normal day. It's not right and it must never happen again. My solution will doubtless be to buy more normal knickers, rather than just doing my washing more often...

2. Sort out my mortgage. I'm on the standard variable thingy, which can't be good. I'm sure I can get a better dea... zzz... zzz... Nope - I'm just as bored writing about it as I am thinking about it.

3. Nothing else. That's it. That's all the important stuff I'm going to think about this weekend. I haven't even got to worry about understanding what's going on in Doctor Who.

Oak-ey dokey

The Woodland Trust has launched the Ancient Tree Hunt, which reminded me that I had intended to write about the ancient oak tree that I can see from my kitchen window.

The Crouch Oak is a local landmark, lending its name to the road on which it stands, and a pub in the centre of the town. As a child I was led to believe that King Henry VIII sheltered from the rain beneath it whilst out hunting as, in those days, Windsor Great Park stretched out this far and Addlestone was just another bit of the King's back garden.

Of course, it wouldn't have been the only tree in this part of the park, and the idea that anyone would really know precisely which tree kept the King dry, or even whether he rode out to here, is somewhat far-fetched. But the story certainly made me look at the tree in awe at the time, and still does, when I very occasionally stop to look at it at all.

I've just 'Googled' it and, after scrolling through the many results for the pub, have found out that the tree was said to have marked the boundary of the park, and local legend has it that Elizabeth I had a picnic beneath its branches. Either my memory or Chinese whispers has distorted the story over the years...

It was apparently long known as Wycliffe's Oak, after the medieval scholar John Wycliffe, who is said to have preached there. Rev. Charles Spurgeon definitely preached there in 1872, resulting in another name for the tree: Spurgeon's Oak.

The tree is though to be almost 1,000 years old. A new oak was planted close by in 2000. It's been called the Millennium Oak, and I like to think that in 1,000 years another oak will be planted - but what will they call that one?

Just finished reading...

Looking Good Dead

by Peter James

Peter James tells a good story, keeping you gripped to the very end. Not necessarily for the faint-hearted - one scene actually made me put down a bacon sandwich (and that doesn't happen often!) - but a tense and thrilling read.