Ten Years Retired

Wittering Sunday 

  This Christmas eve I will have been retired for exactly ten years. I retired early due to my crappy knees and a handful of other problems that I'm sure I've mentioned elsewhere in these pages. I worked at the local Royal Mail Delivery office that was home to roughly fifty workers. I haven't missed the job itself, but there are certain aspects of it that I do miss. There was always a little bit of banter going on between the postmen/women, all in good humour I of course. I miss that. And I miss the interaction with the customers. 

  When I started working for Royal Mail I was a shy, almost timid young lad. But working in the community and  interacting with the public soon brought me out of myself. I loved the job and in many ways it was the making of me. For the first twenty years and more I thought it was the best job in the world. Even the manic Christmas turmoil that always sorted itself out in time for the big day was good. Only one day off for Christmas but that didn't bother me much. I had many great Christmases as a boy and they are alive and well in my memories. But, over the years, I came to dislike it immensely. All the hype and constant press to spend, spend, spend just wore me down.  In truth I think I enjoyed the extra long hours and the chaos at work because it took me away from all the present buying and commercial nonsense that went with Christmas.

  By the time of my retirement though, I'd had enough. Thirty eight years I'd worked those Christmases, two weeks of up to twelve hour days. I'd start work in the dark and come home in the dark. The last few years were spent working in the delivery office. I took the inside job to spare my knees and it helped for a while but, eventually even that job was too much. I was still on my feet all day even though I wasn't carrying the weight of mailbags. That final year was pretty awful. I'd upped my pain killers to the max and was still suffering and when Christmas came back round I just knew I couldn't face another fortnight of twelve hour shifts. I went on sick leave and at the same time I put in a request for ill health retirement. 

  Well, while I was on sick leave I received a phone call from Royal Mail regarding my request. They asked a few questions about my health and what medication I was on. And, I think it was the long list of pills I gave them that prompted them to ask 'Have you considered ill health retirement?' Well, DUH! 

  Just two weeks later I spent my last employed day with Royal Mail although I was still on sick leave! Christmas Eve 2016.

  Looking back at that time now, I realise I was in a much worse place than I first thought. As well as my ongoing knee problems  and the fact that the job was no longer appealing, Reet had just been diagnosed with cancer and given eight to ten years of life!, I was drinking too much too which wasn't a good thing at the best of times, but, on top of all the pills I was taking it was particularly stupid. In short, life was a struggle and I think, now, I was under a lot of stress but didn't realise it. 

  When I heard that I'd got my early retirement I was so relieved I almost cried. That's when I realised just how much pressure I'd been under.

  With work out of the way Reet and I could concentrate on more important  matters like not strangling each other as we tried to spend more time together than we'd ever had to before! In the end though, we did okay and in many ways we became closer than we'd ever been. We of course had to deal with the cancer too of course, but that's for another entry. 

Since retiring then, here's a quick rundown of what's happened, not necessarily in that order.

Reet's cancer took hold and treatments began in earnest

I stopped drinking

 I took up playing ukulele

My good friend, Craig, died suddenly

Our dog died
Reet died
I  had my second knee replacement
After the best part of forty years, I stopped taking pain pills for good. 
I got another dog

Those are a few bullet points but in general, life has just carried on and I've managed to stay with it. I guess that's about all we can do ennit?

Tarra.

B. x

Old Memories

  I’ve been reading some more of my old journal entries. I didn’t realise there were so many but then it was going for a good six years and I wrote in it at least three time a week back then. I’ve discovered a couple of things since re-reading them. The first thing is that I seemed to write more fluidly back then. I could go to it at any time of  day or night (and the times did vary quite wildly) and I’d always have something to say. Oh, it wasn’t anything earth shattering and, to be honest it lived up to its name with the amount of waffling involved.  But it was open and honest and quite often daft.

  Sometimes  when I read through my earlier writings I find them embarrassingly naïve and even boring on some occasions. (I know, who’da thunk it?) But I’m actually enjoying looking back through those files and I’m happy to say most of them are not cringeworthy at all. I believe the reason I enjoyed it so much was because of the interaction between my fellow bloggers. We would all read each others journals and leave comments to each other. It was a huge community and there was something for everybody. Any subject you could think of. Someone would be writing about it. And it really was a friendly place.

   Back in those JLand days you could just browse through journals and find something you liked. Often you could visit one of your regular writers and they’d have a link to another journal on their blog. So from there you’d click on yet another journal and maybe make another friend. As I say it was very community orientated and very enjoyable. That’s why I’ve decided to keep these pages open to the public. You never know, something similar may come from it.

  Not that I have any readers. Well, there’s my sister, as of today, (Hi Pen) so that’s a start.  With Blogger, there is no way to simply browse other journals, you can’t just flick around willy nilly and discover a great blog. You can search for a particular subject and you may get lucky but I’m finding it quite difficult to find just your every day blogger who writes a diary type of blog. That said though, I’ve only just recently found my way back to blogging so it may be that I’m missing something and it could be there’s a whole community out there in the ether waiting for me to find it.

  Right I'm off, but just before I go, I have a whinge for Blogger. I'm trying to justify my text in this post and it doesn't all justify. What's that all about?

Cheerie bye.

B. x

My Dad (1)

 (I wrote this in March 2006)

  My dad was a clever man. He was witty and intelligent and he loved to play games. As long ago as I can remember he used to play postal chess. Each player would send their moves and on receipt the chessboard would be set up and all the moves so far would be played out. Then the recipient would add the extra move, decide on his response and send that move back to his opponent. It was a simple set up and most players had several games on the go at any one time. I know my dad seemed to have letters galore pouring through the door every morning. But although the chess was a big part of his life his real love was draughts (chequers) and one time he won the Essex championship and earned himself a medal. But draughts wasn’t half as popular as chess and so most of his games were of chess.

   When my dad sent his chess moves on to his opponents he wouldn’t just write his moves, he would add a friendly letter and he made many friends that way. Eventually, the chess club grew and soon there were annual meetings and tournaments etc. They also produced a magazine. The magazine would show the latest league tables and add a few lines of interest. And then, one day, they added a letters page. Well, this was right up my dad’s street and he contributed regularly to those pages. Eventually, he was asked to be editor of the mag and, with the help of my mum, who acted as club secretary, ran it quite successfully for many years.

   Many more years later, although he still played the postal chess, he took up some other postal games. There was one called Football manager whereby you have to buy and manage your own team. He even started his own league and a magazine to go with it which, again, met with a fair amount of success. He also liked to play Dungeons and Dragons. So why am I telling you all this? Well, you see, it’s my opinion that although he loved to play these games, half of the fun for him was in writing about it, either for the accompanying magazines or simply swapping letters with other players. In the game of dungeons and dragons you have to pick a team of adventurers to go into the caves to find gold and rescue princesses and also, presumably, kill dragons. The team might consist of a dwarf, a cleric, a magician, and elf etc. Each had specific talents and powers so it was important to get the balance right to make a good team. A dungeon master would preside over the teams and each player would send instructions to the dungeon master telling him what actions the team would take. For most people ,this would be a simple list such as: “The dwarf throws his magic axe at the head of the dragon and whist it’s distracted the rest of the team sneak by and rescue the princess”. The dungeon master would then throw his multi-sided dice to decide the fate of the team.

   But here’s where it all got interesting for my dad. He didn’t just have a dwarf and/or an elf, he had real characters. He gave them daft names such as Tuffus Le Custard and Thickus De Shortplanks. He didn’t just tell the dungeon master his moves he created a whole story around it all. He even gave his characters different traits. One might be a bit of a coward and let everyone else do the fighting. Another might be a grump and moan at every opportunity. So you see, it wasn’t just the games that appealed to him it was the whole shebang. This was my dads world and he loved nothing better than to sit at his typewriter for hours on end making up stories and situations for the various games magazines he was involved with. He wasn’t content with just taking part in the games. Usually he would end up running a show of his own and having the players all writing to him. And he would always try to produce a magazine with all the league tables in it along with some amusing anecdotes.

  That was why, when he eventually retired from work (thirty years in the Romford brewery) we bought him a copying machine. My dad was over the moon with it, despite the fact that it was a huge old monster of a machine that survived on vast amounts of ink, a lot of stencils and much noise. For the next few days he dabbled and clanked and swore his way through the manual and the various controls and then, just three days later, surprised us all. As a thank you to us all, his first production from this beast was a modest four page magazine called Spanner. (So named because it was widely thought that my dad was a bit of a nut.) In this magazine he wrote about the day of his retirement, the surprise party we held for him and how overwhelming it all had been. To this he added a few more anecdotes, and a joke or two.

  Well, the family all loved it and encouraged him to do another. This he did and then a third. But by this time he had other plans. He wrote in the third edition that it needed the help of other writers otherwise this happy little venture wouldn’t survive. Imagine his surprise when he got several pages through the post within the next week, all for inclusion in the next edition. When the fourth edition rolled off the press it had been renamed ‘The family magazine’ and consisted of no less than twelve pages, only half of which were written by my dad. And that is how the family magazine began. (That was way back in August 1984 and here we are in 2006 and I've just produced the 64th edition.)

 

  Since those early days we have progressed greatly. No more the whump, whump of the big cylinder spinning round on the printing machine. No more the messy ink covered stencils that stank the house out and seemed to stain every piece of clothing my dad possessed. From those humble beginnings the mag was transferred first to a word processor and then, later, onto a real computer. These days the work is carried out on my own pc (dad died in the year 2000 and I have since taken up the roll of editor) which sits neatly on my desk in my den. No noise to speak of, (apart from that darn noisy fan that I still haven’t sorted yet!) No more bottles of ink to be messed around with and no more stencils. I use desktop publishing software that allows me to move text and images freely on the page with the minimum of fuss, and a good quality printer that makes little noise and produces good quality pages every time.

 

  But I have my dad to thank for my writing. His own writing was an inspiration to me, it was open, honest and usually dead funny and his character, with all it’s flaws, shone through in almost everything he wrote. If it hadn’t been for his encouragement I would never have written anything for the family magazine, would never have learned to goof things up and, in all probability, would never have had the nerve to write this online journal.

 

  So now you know who to blame.

Wednesday 28th October 2026

  Twenty years ago, I wrote that! But, of course, it's still as true today as it was back then.  This was only one side of my dad and when I wrote it all those years ago, people left comments after they read it. Most of theose comments said things like: 'He sounds like a wonderful dad', and. 'You must be so proud of him' or 'You obviously loved him and it shows in your writing'.

  When I read those comments I was very confused because I had never once considered myself to be proud of him,I guess I loved him, but I wasn't really aware of it until I read those comments. For a long time I didn't even think I liked him. The point is, those comments hit home a little and stirred me into writing a second entry about my dad just a few weeks later. I'm not going to include that entry here but I will have to post it  at some stage, the image of him wouldn't be complete without it.

For now though, 

Toodlepip.

B. x

Here’s A Funny Thing…

  Remember, I mentioned that I used to write a journal once before? Well, here’s a funny thing, earlier this week, I came across an old backup hard drive that I used some years ago. My brother used to work in computers back then, although his skill was with mainframes rather than PCs. Even so, he knew more than me about the tech stuff and when he suggested, very strongly, that I should get a backup drive for my important files, I did so without hesitation. That was way back around 2004 or somewhere close. I backed up all my files on a regular basis as he advised. But, over the years, as technology moved on I stopped using my desktop PC so much. I had long since needed to back up any files and most of my computing was done via my laptop or my tablet. The only time the desktop PC was used was if I  needed something printing since that was the only PC connected to my printer. The backup drive had been long since forgotten about until this week when I came upon it in a seldom used stationery drawer. I brought it downstairs and connected it to my laptop and, lo and behold, I came across my old journal entries all backed up and saved as word files. Wow!

  Well, of course, I couldn’t help but take a look could I? And what a rabbit hole that turned out to be. I started that journal in January 2004 and kept it going for more than four years. The journals were hosted by AOL in those days and it was quite popular at the time. I made a few friends back then in what became known as J. Land. We would read each others journals and leave comments as we went. It was very communal and enjoyable. So, this week I’ve been preoccupied with those old entries and haven’t gotten around to adding to these pages.

  It was interesting looking back at my writing style, although, I don’t think it’s changed very much to be honest. At least, I hope it hasn’t. More interesting than my entries though, were the comments people would leave. It was such diverse range of people, which, of course, led to a very diverse range of journals. And it was good fun. I even met up with one or two of the writers once we’d gotten to know each other well enough. We holidayed in Devon one year and while we were there we met up with a lovely lady called Jayne who had a great journal called Single Girl. She  loved the colour pink and even drove a pink sports car. Fun times for sure. 

 Now there is a reason for me telling you all this. First off I will tell you I have decided that these pages are now definitely going to stay open to the public. In my very first entry I confessed to a side of me that felt it ought to be kept private. Well, since reading some of those old entries and the comments that were left, I now remember how much fun it was interacting with those writers and reading their journals. So I’m staying public. Another thing  I discovered was that I wrote entries about my family. Today I read through my entries about my mum and my dad. My dad actually had two entries to his name. And, the thing is, since this is a new journal it wouldn’t hurt to give those entries another airing. I mean, everything I wrote then is as true today as it was then. So, I think, the next entry, should you choose to read it, will be about my dad.

  In the meantime then, what have I been up to? On Monday Andy and I went to a local smallholding that’s held by one of our friends and we bagged up a load of manure. We took it straight to the allotment and spread it about the plot. We’re hoping to get some more before the winter sets in.
 

  Today I was taken out to lunch by my good friends Liz and Andy. What’s more they paid, so it was twice as tasty. It was a pub lunch just a short drive away in a pub called The Aspen Tree. It was your standard pub fare but they do it very well and it was a bit delish.

 

  Yesterday I went for an eye test and ended up taking out a mortgage on a new pair of glasses. Tomorrow we’re off to the allotment once more. There isn’t much to pick now as the season is almost over. But there’s some maintenance to be getting on with. Dirt needs digging over, apple tree and plum tree need pruning as well as some general 

weeding. 

  That’s pretty much all for this week. Most of my spare moments have been taken up with reading my old journal entries. There’s a lot more on that hard drive too. I used to belong to a writers club on AOL and a few of us would swap short stories on a regular basis. There’s also some poetry but I think that will be way too soul baring to include in these pages. There are a lot of old snippets of information, cartoons, quizzes, jokes etc, which I used to use in my family magazine. (Have I mentioned the family magazine? I don’t think I have. Oh well, all will be revealed eventually.)

  For now tho, cheery-bye.
  B. x

Waffle & Whinge.

  Well, looky loo, I’ve changed the name of the blog. I liked Twilight Tales but in all honesty, I’ve always preferred Waffle and Whinge so I’ve been toying with the idea for a while. Then the other day I searched for Twilight Tales on Google and there were hundreds of results, maybe more, I didn’t count them. But I was a little disappointed to think the title was so common. Waffle and Whinge, on the other hand, didn’t have any significant results. There were lots for waffle and some whinge, but nothing specifically for waffle and whinge together. I like that little bit of  individuality. So I changed the title.  

  Incidentally, the picture with the title is a photograph I took some years ago. It’s a lake in South Weald Park which is a short drive from where I live. It was taken at around 6am on one of my more enthusiastic photo jaunts. When I was more involved in my photography I used to take photos of chimneys. Somewhere along the way I noticed that there were some very ornate and adventurous chimney styles out there and I started looking out for them wherever I went and before I knew it, I had a hobby on my hands. I have chimney pics from all over the place. So okay, it isn’t the most riveting photo collection you’ll ever see but I had fun taking the photos and, really, isn’t that the aim of any hobby - to enjoy it?

  When I started blogging all those years ago it was a popular pastime. Not so much these days thanks to Twitter and Facebook etc. But there were lots of blogs around and some revolved around photography. These were great for me as they often set assignments and they were fun. The topics would be quite varied. One week it may be night photography, another week it may be portraits or even trick photography, sometimes it was just a colour or maybe a shape. There were never any prizes for  the best images, it was all for the enjoyment and it was great in encouraging me to get out and use my camera more.

  I was a postman at the time and I was used to getting up in the early hours for work. So, on my days off I would quite often take my camera out at 5am looking something to photograph. Sometimes I would visit a place several times at different times of the day or even different times of the year. But the light of the early morning is my favourite time for photography, as that top photo will prove. Reet could never understand that I would get up so early on my days off to go out when I’d had to get up early all week. But I figured that if I could get up that early to do something that I HAD to do. Why wouldn’t I get up early for something I wanted to do? 

  During my more enthusiastic days of photography I did a couple of weddings for friends. I didn’t charge other than for the film and developing. One of those weddings took place in snow and if you know about photography you will know that all that whiteness can mess with your light  metering. I kinda knew how to overcome it but since this was a wedding I was terrified that I’d mess up. I reckon I was more nervous than the bride and groom on that occasion. Thankfully though, the photos turned out okay. Phew!

  I also took some portfolio pictures for a friend who was trying to get into acting. They were quite fun to do as they needed to be in black and white and I had my own darkroom setup at the time. So I developed them all myself and was quite pleased with the results. Sadly though, he didn’t make it to stardom. In my blog of the time I used to take photos of extreme close ups and see if anyone could guess what they were. That was fun and quite popular.

  I figured, seeing as I’ve been talking photography I ought to include a few photos. I have thousands of pics that I’ve taken through the years and, to be honest, many of them are rubbish. I was never one to sort through them and throw out the trash, especially since I went digital. So, for this entry I’ve chosen just three. The subject matter varies but they are similar in that they are all firsts. 

  First up then is the first photo I ever took of Honey, our golden lab. She’d only been with us for a day or two and we had to go out and leave her. We shut her in the kitchen because we didn’t know if she’d chew the sofa or rip the cushions up while we were out. When we got back, this is what we saw. She looked so sad but at the same time pleased to see us. My camera was to hand and I quickly snapped this pic.  (I had to crop it a here a little because the original had most of the door in frame.) It wasn’t the best  photo I’ve ever taken , not by a long chalk and I tried to recreate it somany times in order to get it more photo-correct if you know what I mean. But I always come back to this one as it was so natural and it means so much to me because I think this was the point when I fell completely in love with her.

  This next image is not quite an original, it is a retake of the first photograph I ever developed myself when I was taking an O level evening class in photography. The first lesson introduced us to all that the classes would hold and then we were told to go and take some photos for developing next week. The theme was unusual angles. This was my effort, or rather, as I said, a retake of the original. The original was in black and white and I’m sure I have a hard copy of it somewhere. Years later, for one of the photo assignments I mentioned earlier, I retook the pics in colour. As it happens, this turned out almost monochromatic in any case. I have to say though, that I prefer the original black and white version. If only I could find the darn thing.

  The last photo I’m going to bore you with is the first one I developed for my O level exam. This was a series of seven or eight pics I took of a local multi-story car park. This copy as you might guess has been edited and framed in Photoshop as I uploaded it to my  Flickr  account and just wanted to tidy it up. Mind you, it was good enough to help me win a pass in my O level exam so maybe it didn’t need tweaking at all. I spent two years learning photography at evening classes and came away with an O and an A level.

  Not something I ever achieved in my school days, not for any subject. It was Reet’s idea for me to go to night school as she could see I was deeply interested. And I have to say it was the most enjoyable time. It also gave me the incentive to take other night school classes. I  did two years learning French and that too was good. I love French and France. I even tried to convince Reet that we should move there in our early days. But alas, it wasn’t to be. 

  I didn’t get any certificates or anything for French but, I did get an O and an A level in English. I’d always enjoyed English at school but I didn’t take any exams before leaving. So it was nice to know that I could do it, even if I had to pay for night school classes to do so.

 Well, I believe I  might have run out of wind so I’ll bid you goodbye for now.

  More soon, if you’re lucky.

  B. x

 

Family Visit

 Tuesday 6th October 2026

  Last weekend was quite busy, I had my brother, Derry, and his wife, Anne, staying over. They were down from Leicestershire for a party for my other brother’s (John), wife, (Jan). Jan has just turned seventy and their kids arranged a surprise party for her.  Anne and Derry came down on Friday and stayed till Sunday. Derry was born here but moved to Ashby De La Zouch with Anne when they married. They are keen walkers and have hiked all over the place. Whenever I visit them I make sure to take my walking boots because I’m sure to need them. I don’t really mind because I do enjoy walking but don’t do enough of it. Must be all those years of being a postman that puts me off it.

  So anyhoot, when they came down I took them all round the places we played in when we grew up. On the Saturday we walked through a small bit of woodland near my home. We didn’t go far as we had the party to later on. On the Sunday though, we did a lot more walking. When we were kids we always used to play in the  local woods which are called Manor Woods.  We used to walk through the woods to get to school and were always late because we played for too long, forgetting the time. The Manor Woods cover a very large area and we didn’t really venture into its darkest depths in those days. We stayed in the parts nearer our home. There are several fishing ponds over there and we often camped beside them overnight. In the morning we’d nip out of the woods to nearby houses and nick milk off of doorsteps for out tea. If we were lucky we’d get some bread too as,  back then, there were bakers delivering as well as milkmen. A lot of our youth was spent playing in those woods so it was a real memory trip for Derry. Me too, although, I’ve never moved away and have walked my dog over there on many occasions. Derry had been away for some fifty years or more so it was a pleasant walk for him. Anne is a Derbyshire girl and had never seen the place before, but it didn’t matter. As long as she was out walking she was quite happy to let us reminisce.

  During that weekend I also had to pick up my new car. It's very nice but I didn’t get much chance to get to grips with it until Anne and Derry went home. Since then I’ve been trying to shut off the beeps and bongs that it insists on chiming out. Honestly, I got a welcoming noise whenever I opened the door and another noise as I walked away and it locked itself. Then it beeped every time I edged over the speed limit by half a mile an hour. I managed to turn the damn radio off eventually. (I don’t like radio stations as they repeat themselves too often and have too much talking and adverts with not enough music.) I have all my own music collection on a memory stick which I copied from my old Ipod. There’s enough on there to keep me in music for weeks without repetition. So I’m getting to grips with the car at last. Most of the irritating noises have been turned off although I’m sure there will be more to discover as I  go.

  Wednesday 7th October 2026

  I have decided that since I sometimes write these entries over a couple of day or more, I’m gonna add the date each time I write a little more. Otherwise the date that Blogger puts at the top doesn’t always marry up. 

  Today Andy and I went to the allotment. There’s not much to do at this time of year, just a bit of maintenance and some picking if there’s anything still growing. This year, we still have some tomatoes and some runner beans coming through although things are definitely slowing down. As we got to the allotment  it began raining. We persevered for a little while but it soon turned into a downpour so we gave up and came back home. We didn’t mind too much as the rain is much needed after the recent drought. 

  Coming home early has given me some time to write so there’s always a silver lining.
  This will be our sixth year working the allotment. Andy used to have a small vegetable garden in his daughter’s garden but his daughter moved and now she only has a communal garden which he can’t use. So between us we took up a council run allotment. I offered to join him to halve the cost and, more importantly for me, to give me a little exercise. I have several  hobbies but they are all fairly sedentary so I thought the allotment will at least ensure that I got out of the house once in a while instead of sitting playing ukulele or writing or painting or reading etc. 

  We knew very little about gardening when we started although Andy was more knowledgeable than me, but we have both learned a lot over the last six years.  It’s better here as we are surrounded by other growers and some of them have been there for years. So we all pick up tips from one another. The picture you see here is three years old and things have changed since it was taken. These days the greenhouse in the pic has become a storage shed and we have a netted framework next to it instead. It seems to do better than the actual greenhouse ever did. We are not allowed to have proper glass in the greenhouse (for safety reasons, presumably), so we covered it with thick plastic sheeting but it never pulled its weight so we gave it up. We have more netting covering things too these days as the allotments attract all manner of wildlife: muntjacs; foxes; neighbourhood cats; rabbits and squirrels. And birds, of course, they like nothing more than to peck at the seeds if they aren’t covered well. 

  We don’t do too bad with  our veg. We grow a wide range of the usual stuff such as spuds; tomatoes; courgettes; runner beans; beetroot; corn on the cob; onions; garlic; shallots cucumbers, and on…  We do well with most of them although we have some regular failures too. We’ve never had any good sized carrots and the two times we’ve tried to grow mange tout they’ve been rubbish. We have two apple trees and a plum tree which serve us well, especially as we grow rhubarb too and Andy’s wife often makes an apple and rhubarb crumble. YUM!  We also have raspberries and blueberries but we haven’t managed to grow strawberries so far. They never seem to do very well.

  Okay,  that’s enough, I’m getting bored with writing about vegetables so you’re no doubt getting bored reading about them. Suffice to say though that the allotment is going well. It’s a continual learning curve every year and over the last six years I have developed a deep respect for Mother Nature. 

  Toodlepip. 

  B.x

New Car, New T.V.

   When Reet was ill she was awarded the full amount of benefits because her situation was terminal. So we had a car supplied from the motability service. When she died though, they took it back quite quickly, which left me carless at a time when it would have come in very handy. So, I had to get a new car on the quick. I was still in a bit of a daze and I kinda rushed into things. Within a week or so I had bought a Dacia Stepway. Now, don’t get me wrong, the Stepway is a great car for a reasonable price but it’s a bit on the small size. Especially since for the previous four years we’d been driving around in a Citroen Berlingo which, trust me, is a lot bigger. Ive had the Stepway now, for three years and I’ve never really got to like it. In hindsight. I would have done better to hire a car until the funeral had been and gone and then taken my time choosing a new car that I might like. But, as I say, I wasn’t really thinking clearly at the time. 

  So why am I telling you this? Well, a week or so ago I got a call from my local Renault dealer (who, in case you don’t know, also make the Dacia range). They told me they were in a position to make me a great offer on a new car. Well, of course they were, they sell cars! Still, I figured it might be a good idea to take a look, seeing as I wasn’t happy with what I had. As it happened though, I did get a good deal and next weekend I will be taking delivery of a new Top of the range Dacia Duster. Yay! I was tempted to go for something electric but in all honesty, I don’t do enough driving to warrant the extra ten grand or so. I'm  hard pushed to do three thousand miles per year.

  What other news then? This is one of those news items that would be saved till last on a regular news program because it’s mildly amusing. Well, it’s not particularly funny to me, to be honest. No, last week I broke my television. How did you do that? I hear you ask. Well, I broke the screen when I tried to swat a fly that kept landing on it. I mean, I didn’t actually smack the swatter onto the screen. No, I knew the LED screen would be fragile, so I swiped downwards thinking I could stun the bugger and then finish it off when it was on the carpet. It turns out that those screens are even more fragile than I thought. And, what’s more, the damn fly escaped. Not for long though, it has to be said. I’m nothing if not determined. I waited awhile, lulling it into a false sense of security. Then when it was totally at ease and  nonchalantly strolling up the wall, I pounced! 

  So I’ve just bought a new telly. Had I known I’d be buying a new car just a week or so  later I might have forgone the swatting fiasco entirely. Oh well, we live and  we learn.

  Tata. 

  B. x    

Ukulele(s)

  I’ve never been very good with music. I mean, I do listen to it.  Listening to music has been a very big part of my life. But, I’m talking about, playing music, and understanding it. By the time I left school the only thing I knew about music was F-A-C-E,  Every Good Boy Deserves Favours and  the Doh, Rei, Me song. I often flirted with the idea of learning to play an instrument and I did, at one point, learn to play Amazing Grace (badly) on the harmonica but that was the extent of my ‘talent’ and I soon decided it was too difficult and gave up the harmonica. 

  But just a few short years ago, I heard Joe Brown speaking in an interview. He was talking about an album he had made that consisted of ukulele songs. During that interview he happened to mention that the ukulele is very easy to learn. That kind of struck a chord with me (pun intended), and I decided there and then to get me a ukulele.  I was dead keen and didn’t hang about. Very shortly I was the proud owner of my first ukulele. It cost me forty quid and came with a good quality hard case. I then started looking around for local ukulele tutors. I couldn’t find any. Not one! So I resorted to the internet and, Sheesh! There are loads of them. I would have preferred a local tutor but this would have to do.

  The first lesson I watched promised to teach me a few basic chords and a popular song ‘that everybody knows’. Hmm, it seems the ‘everybody’ he referred to didn’t include me. I’d never heard of a song called Riptide by someone called Vance Joy. Not only had I not heard of it or him but when  I heard it I didn’t particularly like the song. Oh well, there were other tutors…

  …Some weeks later I was making progress. I’d found several Youtube channels that were very good and I’d learned a few basic chords and even managed to play some tunes. But then I hit a block. I came across a chord that I couldn’t play. I physically could not get my fingers to reach the frets and strings that were needed to make the chord. I tried for a while but I  was never gonna be able to make it. I became quite despondent and decided that if I couldn’t make the chords then what was the point? So I gave it up. My ukulele went into the cupboard and there it stayed.

  Until, a while later I was visiting my sister and her husband (Penny & Graham). During the visit I happened to mention my short venture into the ukulele world along with my swift departure. Now, Graham plays guitar. Just as a hobby, but still, he’s pretty good. He plays for his own enjoyment and has done for years. So when I told him I had to give up playing the ukulele because I couldn’t make the chords, he said something that changed my outlook on the whole thing. He said ’If you’re only playing for yourself, it doesn’t matter if you miss a chord out here and there, who’s gonna know?’. 

  Wow! What an eye opener. And, of course, he was right. I could keep playing and when I hit a chord I  couldn’t achieve I’d just strum past it. That advice convinced me to dust off that ukulele and try again. And now, here we are nine years on and I’m still enjoying it. I’ve learned a lot in those years. About ukuleles, about music and about me. 

UKULELES: I’ve  learned that they can be cheap or ridiculously expensive, they come in many sizes and shapes and they each have their own distinctive sound. Oh, and they are very collectable.

MUSIC: I have progressed from Do rei me and Amazing Grace. I still can’t read music but I am now aware of such black arts as, keys; tabs; octaves; flats; sharps; arpeggios; vibratos …. And on and on. It’s a whole new world!

Me: I’ve learned that I’m addicted to this crazy little instrument they call the ukulele. I’ve learned that I can play loads of songs (even without the impossible chords). And, here’s the big one - I’ve learned that I can sing, kinda. Oh, and just recently, I’ve learned that I can write songs, also kinda.

  That then, is a little potted picture of my ukulele journey so far. I’ve skimmed the surface but it doesn’t tell the whole story, not by a long chalk… 

  … As I said, there were so many tutors to choose from and I flitted betwixt and between them, learning as I went. I soon learned a few basic chords, C F and G being the easiest to pick up. And here was my first surprise - with just those three chords I could play hundreds, if not thousands of songs! Some of the most popular songs consist of just those three chords. So even if I was a little slow and my fretting was a bit messy to start with I could at least play something. Getting that first song under my belt was a real confidence booster I can tell you. I can’t actually recall the first song I learned which surprises me as I can remember, vividly, how good I felt, knowing that I could play a whole song. 

   One of the tasks I had to learn in order to play a song, was how to read a tablature. A tab is simply the lyrics to a song but with the chords inserted so the player knows when to change chord. The thing is with tabs though, is that they don’t show you the tune, just the words and the chord changes. If you don’t know the tune you would find it hard to play just by reading a tab. You’d need sheet music for that. I’m lucky because although I can’t read sheet music I do know a vast selection of songs. All my family were and are music lovers going back to my mum  and dad and even my nan who lived with us back in the day. Also, I’m the youngest of five siblings each with our own tastes in music, so I have a very wide range of songs rattling around in my head from as far back as the fifties and through to today.

  While I was learning tabs and chords I also learned that there were  different sizes of ukulele out there. This led me to buy another,… and another  … and another… well you get the gist. I won’t go into the whys and wherefores but I will say that at present I have fifteen ukuleles to my name. That is a whole nother entry right there as it also includes amplifiers, mics, a mixing desk, and on, and on…

  My sister has also taken up the ukulele now, and so has my brother, Tony. So when we get together a few times a year we play together. We've leared a lot of songs and Penny's husband, Graham joins us too, sometimes on the guitar and sometimes on the ukulele. And in our most recent sessions Tony has begun playing bass. My sister and I have played in a couple of pubs and open mic sessions in Norfolk (Graham and Tony choosing to opt out), and we also play at our family bash that's held annually in the garden of my sister's house. When we play there, we call ourselves the Strumbums. The family bash will get its own entry at a later date, I'm sure. but I've babbled enough for now.

  You know, I still haven’t mastered that awkward chord that scuppered my playing all those years ago, in fact, I've found a few more challenging chords along the way. But I don’t mind now. There are loads of chords I can’t play, but there are also plenty that I can. I now have a catalogue of around five hundred songs and can play most of them to some degree or another. Some of them have tough chords and fast chord changes and I struggle with them but I leave them in my collection because I know I’m learning all the time and, who knows, I might just get those chords in the end. 

   All for now then.

  B. x

Another entry! zoiks! This could be habit forming.

  Yesterday was a good day. My visiting friends arrived around midday and we talked all afternoon and into the early evening. We have so much history between us, we could probably talk for a week without coming up for air.

  Today, I'm going to my sister and her husband Graham. Usually, I go there for a few days and we play our ukuleles together and practice some of the songs we've learned over the years. This visit is for a different reason although I'm taking my uke just in case. No,  the reason for this visit is simply for an overnight stay.  Pen's first husband, Gerry, is having an 80th birthday party. So Pen and Graham are putting me up for a day or two. So I'll get there today and spend tonight, Saturday and Sunday with them. The party is a short drive away and starts around three in the afternoon. How long it will go on for I don't know but I'm sure there will be plenty of live music as that is what Gerry is good at. He's been making music since forever and has had several bands in his time. Never professionally, although I reckon he could have done really well if he'd wanted to. But I think he's always been happy just playing gigs in his local area. They are in the Thetford area and there are two American air bases up that way so there has always been an audience for Gel's music. He can play pretty much any genre but he's always been more into rock and roll and country rock.

  Gerry met my sister back in the 60's and he would often bring his guitar round and play for us, especially at Christmas. I was in my early teens and I loved those times. Whenever he came to visit I'd always look to see if he had his guitar with him. He and Pen eventually married and stayed together for many years before they split. I'm sure it was a horrible time for both of them and I don't know the hows and whys of it all, it isn't my business. Happily though, they have remained friends. These days they are both remarried and whenever Pen and Graham host a family bash at their house, Gerry is the main provider of music (the family bashes will get an entry of their own at sometime or another).

  So, as I sit here writing at 7.30am. I really should be packing if I'm going to leave at 9am.

Tarra then. 

B. X

>

>

  Hmm, hello, I'm still here. Well actually, I need to explain...

  I began writing this entry on Friday morning, (18th September) and forgot post to it before I left to go to my sister. So now, as I write, it's 6am on Monday morning (21st) and I'm back home.

  My brother and his wife (Derry and Anne) and I went to the party on Saturday. It was a great party too, with loads of live music and dancing, as was expected. Penny and Gerry, had two kids when they were married - Shay and Linsi, and both of them are very talented musically. They both sing and play instruments. Shay plays guitar and bass and probably anything else with strings, and Linsi can play piano. Mostly though, she keeps to singing as she has a fantastic voice. Shay can sing too and they often sing and play together along with their dad. When he was with my sister, Gerry built his own recording studio and often recorded  CDs with his bands. They're a proper clever lot and no mistake, so the party couldn't do anything but go with a swing. 

  After the party went back to Penny and Graham's house for the night. We didn't get to play our ukuleles on this visit as Penny is recovering from an illness and was too tired. But we sat and chatted the time away and had a great visit. We left just after lunch on Sunday. It's always sad when we leave as we all get along so well and don't like it to end, but, leave we must. 

  I was home by 2pm and once I'd got the dog back from my neighbour, everything slipped back into its regular routine. It's funny how no matter how much you enjoy going to other places, whether it's visiting friends or relatives or a holiday in foreign climes, it's always nice to get back home.

  Today then, will start with walking the dog and, a little later, a trip to the allotment. Other than that I have no plans. So we shall have to wait and see.

  Toodlepip.

  B. x

Visitors...

Morning all,

  I'm in a blue mood today. And, by that, I don't mean I'm sad, I just mean I'm gonna use blue text today. No reason, I just am. 

  As I write, it's 8am. I've been up for about three hours. I've taken my pills, fed the dog and enjoyed a cup of tea. I've done Wordle and Don't wordle which has become something of a habit. I've also walked the mutt and we both got soaked in the process. It started raining a minute into the walk and stopped as we got back home. Can't complain too much though as the recent heatwave has been a little exhausting and the rain is much needed. I can walk in the rain, I did it for years as a postman. 

  Today, I'm having company. Two of my closest friends are coming for a visit (Ann and Dennis). We've known each other since school days. Ann and I even dated once or twice when we first met. I introduced them all those years ago and, several years later, I was honoured to be Dennis's best man at their wedding. Forward fifty years or more and I think they've forgiven me for the introduction. They've recently celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary, so they're doing well.

  We haven't been constant companions for all that time. They had kids and we kind of separated for a while but we never lost touch. Recent years have seen us draw closer once more. They knew Reet too, of course, and were devastated when she died. Dennis and I went to the same school but he's a year older than me so I don't believe that's where we met. I think we met at the Boys' Brigade. (Third Harold Hill Boys Brigade. Motto: Sure and Stedfast.) We've always been close, but in a blokey way. 

  Ann and I on the other hand are more like soulmates. We had a very similar outlook on life. Both optimistic and laughing a lot and we could talk about anything. Not that we did, but we knew, instinctively, that we could. And even during the years when we didn't knock around together the bond was always there. 

  Where Ann and I were outgoing and a little more adventurous, Reet and Dennis were very much reserved in their ways and both were pessimists. So much so that we dubbed them Doom and Gloom.

  We've always been in touch and seen each other at parties and such but since Reet became ill we've reconnected and if anything, become closer still. So, it will be nice to see them both. They have two great kids (Sarah and Adam) with families of their own and they're all lovely people. I am Godfather to Sarah and Reet was her Godmother. 

I ought to run the hoover round and tidy up a bit before they get here so I'd best skedaddle.

Be well. 

B. x

Two Years On...

  Well, look at that, you wait six years for an entry and then two come along almost at once!

  This is petty much a continuation of my last entry but that was becoming a bit long winded so I figured I'd split it...

  Okay, In the September after Reet's death, I had a replacement knee op. When I had my right knee replaced back in 2008 the recovery period was about eighteen months. It would have been quicker but I returned to work and figured I didn't need to do the physio anymore. After all, I thought, as a postman my knee was getting a workout every day, even though I'd moved to an indoor job by then. I was still on my feet all day but at least I wasn't humping bags of mail around with me so it was better. The thing is though, it wasn't necessarily the right exrcise and it took eighteen months before I felt the op had been worthwhile. This time round, being retired, I needed to keep up the physio. Which I did. And I have to say, the recovery period was amazingly quick. I'd say I was walking without sticks and in no pain within two months. Once I'd ditched the stick I never looked back. So much better than the last time.  

  So anyway, after Reet died I fumbled and stumbled around for a while and then, in September, I had my knee op and that gave me something else to occupy my mind. I didn't stop missing Reet, of course, but it kind of made me move on a little. Suddenly, life was kicking back in and I had to go with it. As well as my knee, I also had prostate problems and hospital appointments were cropping up here and there, but I'm so lucky that I have some good friends (Liz and Andy), who helped me (they still do), drivng me to the hospital,  accompanying me on apointments etc. Andy was a constant companion on those hospital visits. And Liz, kept me organised at home, making sure I wrote appointments on my calender. and made sure I wasn't slacking. It's so easy when you're on your own to be lax with the dusting and hoovering, changing bed sheets, doing the washing. All that kind of stuff. When I was working, Reet used to do all that stuff and I probably took it for granted. And although I took over a lot of it when Reet was ill, I was never really organised about it. 

Enter Liz:

  When Reet died I lost a lot of weight and many of my clothes didn't fit. So Liz - and Andy, of course, but mainly Liz, took me shopping for a new wardrobe. She'd get me to try stuff on and tell me 'No, too baggy, No, too tight, or yes, just right!' She made sure I bought things that didn't need ironing Good job too because I had no idea about such things, and I'm absolutely useless at ironing. She helped me go through Reet's clothes and sort them out for charity shops. (How many handbags does a woman need for gawd's sake!?) She makes official phone calls for me pretending she's my sister and changes my electricity tariff if needed or keeps an eye on my tesco clubcard points. All the stuff I would never think to do or even bother with.

  Just a few lines about Andy and Liz then. We've known each other for fifty years or more. Liz lived in the same street as me and we went to the same school, as did Reet. Later on I worked in the same factory as Liz and this is where she, and I, met Andy. When they eventually got married I was his best man. That was way back in the seventies. We knocked around together for a good while, drinking and holidaying together. Then, when they had kids we drifted apart a little. differemt priorities ruled our lives I guess. We didn't lose touch but just didn't go out together as much. 

  Jump ahead many years later and we somehow reconnected. I don't even know how it came about but the early frendship we carved out remained and we began socialising together again. We've not looked back since If anything we've become even closer than we were back then. They were with Reet and I through the rough times and I'm so grateful for their constant care and concern. 

  That's Liz and Andy in a nutshell. As I said, they are a large part of my life. Andy and I share an allotment together. We started it about six years ago and haven't looked back since. Liz still helps to keep me organised when I need it, which is more often than I'd care to admit, but it's nice to have someone you can trust when you need them.

  But back to the plot...

  In November 2023 We lost Honey, our golden labrador. It was a sad time and we both missed her immensely. I still do, of course. But whilst I was recovering from my knee op, I had decided that I might like to get another dog. I was fine on my own but I found the evenings really quiet. I'm not one for watching too much TV, I'd much sooner play my music. I have a very wide and, some say, weird taste in music and it's always been a huge part of my life. Even so, I don't feel the need to play music every night. Sometimes it's nice to sit and read or maybe write. But again, you have to be in the mood to do those things and that isn't always the case. my knee was improving every day so I thought it was maybe time to get another dog. And I did. Her name is Coco and she rules my life (even more than Liz).

  Here she is. Apparently, she's part beagle, part spaniel and part poodle. (Her mum was obviously popular!) She's a mongrel, in other words. She's three years old as I write and she's as cute as a button and feisty as hell.  She was two when I got her and for a while I thought she was way to energetic for me but, as my knee improved I began to get the measure of her and now we're bosom buddies and she's a real daddie's girl. Before she came to me she was living on a small holding with two other dogs and a few kids so she had the life of Reilly for her time there. She was trained in the basics thankfully, because I don't have the patience to take that on. She sits on command and walks to heel after a fashion and that's a good start. 

  So that's how my life is going at the moment. I walk the dog, I play my ukuele(s) and I share an allotment. I'm also finding time to cook, which is something I like to do. but more on at that at a later date.

More soon, if you can stand the excitement.

B x

Rita North 14/11/1955 - 25/3/2024

  Hello,

  Six years ago, I wrote a post all about my wife and her illness. Little did I know at the time, that I wouldn't get back to my blog for so long. I could give you a long list of reasons as to why I didn't get back but all it boils down to is life getting in the way. Of course, the years have been filled with caring for Reet and I've had a few things going on with my own health as well. but, in truth, there really isn't any excuse for leaving things this long.

  This post is dedicated to my one and only 'unknown' reader who left a comment after my last post. If you're still interested then this is for you and I can only admire your staying power.

  Okay, so here's how the story goes....

  Reet's illness obviously continued and as we reached her tenth year the chemo was still doing its job of keeping the cancer at bay. Reet was actually feeling a liitle better at the time and was hoping to get back to driving and socialising a little more. Despite the fact that she had limited time left we were actually feeling a little more upbeat. But then, sadly, she had a fall. By this time we had a hospital bed set up in the living room and although she was in it most of the time, she was able to get up and mooch about. Then, one day the phone rang and she got up to answer it and in the process she tripped over the cables that served the electric bed.

  I was in the garden mowing the lawn and when I came in I found her sprawled across the floor, unable to get up. I quickly put her back to bed and made her comfortable. She wasn't too bad but and we thought she'd be okay in a day ot two but I guess her body couldn't cope anymore. The chemo had taken its toll after so many years and from the day of the fall she never really fully recovered.

  So, on March 25th 2024 Reet died. She had been in hospital for a week or so and was then transferred to St Francis Hospice. She was there for a few days, maybe a week, and then she died. She was at peace when she died and I can only hope she's out of pain and in a much better place.

  The funeral was okay, if you can say that about a funeral. Reet wasn't religious so we went for a Humanist service, although she did want the Lords Prayer to be read as she'd always liked it. It was well attended and I had it streamed live on the internet for those who couldn't be there in person. I had written a few words about Reet and I managed to read them out during the service. I have always been terrified of speaking in front of a crowd so I was nervous as all hell. My sister offered to read it for me, as did the funeral organiser, but they were my words and I felt they had to come from me. And, as it happens, once I'd started, I didn't have much trouble at all, thankfully. Afterwards there were drinks and refreshments at a local club. It was all very normal as funerals go, except, I wasn't there with Reet this time I was there for her.

  Before Reet died we spoke about the funeral and whether she wanted anything in particular. Reet, practical, as ever, didn't have any preferences for it, although we spent some time thinking about what music to play. Now, I have to explain, Reet was only five feet tall give or take, and back in the days of CB radio she went by the handle of Bridget The Midget. So when we were discussing the music she said 'Well, I've got to have Bridget The Midget played, for sure.' So we felt that could be played as everyone was leaving the crematorium. The other music to be played wasn't so easy to choose and we spent a whole evening playing sad songs that might be suited for a funeral. We got there in the end but it was a strange evening. Bridget the Midget went down quite well and there were sad smiles all round as almost everybody there remembered her nickname.

  There were a few other things going on at around the time of the funeral. For a start, the motability people took the car back once Reet had died so I was without transport. Enter my good friends Liz and Andy. Andy took me around to some car showrooms on the quick and I managed to get a new car in time for the funeral. Meanwhile, Liz, was helping arrange the wake and making sure I had everything in order.

  As well as the car, there were other ongoing hospital appointments that needed attending or cancelling depending on importance. Arranging the funeral itself is a big task and although I did most of it myself, I was so grateful to have Liz and Andy to go to for help or advice or both. (So, when I say 'Good friends' I mean The Best. - More on them later.)

  It was a strange time just after the funeral. Once everybody had gone and I was left on my own I didn't know quite how to feel. I wasn't falling apart, you understand, but I was in limbo, just muddling through in something of a daze. It's like I was on auto-pilot and things just got done. I didn't realise any of this at the time. I actually felt as though I was fine and getting on with my life in my normal manner. It's only now looking back that I realised I was drifting. My family all kept in touch, of course, so that was reassuring. They are all so far away though and can't be traipsing down here to keep an eye on me. Although I have no doubt every one of them would have been here had I asked. John is the closest, living in Hornchurch which is a short drive away. He called a few times and popped in but his life is quite hectic and full of babysitting his grandkids so I wouldn't expect him to run around after me all the time. But again, I am sure he would have, had the need arisen.

  But the need didn't arise, thankfully and I coped fairly well in the end. And, of course, Liz and Andy were ever present. (I do have other friends, honest, you'll get to hear all about them sooner or later, no doubt.)

  Okay, this is turning into a marathon entry so I'll sign off for now.

  TTFN.

  B. x