Aw Diddums

Delilah just loves insects and plays cat-and-mouse with them. Having bopped a fly so that it lay at her feet, I thought she would crush and eat it… but she picked it up in her mouth and dropped it near Samson, alive and kicking, so that they could both bully it.

I don’t like to see anything tortured, so I scooped it up in my hands (it didn’t protest) and pushed it outside the door. The feeling of its wings fluttering against my palms made me frown for a moment… I was reminded of a dream I had a couple of nights earlier.

In this dream, I was living alone in London. I had lots of friends there but had withdrawn from their company for a little. I needed time on my own but felt guilty. One lovely sunny morning, the sky was blue and the breezes playing, and I was having a quiet little picnic on the grass well away from the crowds. There were trees heavy with pink blossom, and I stood beside them and tried to compose a little haiku.

“The may tree blooms… no, wait. The may tree blossoms…”

Pacian came up and stretched out on the grass beside my picnic basket, heaving a sigh. “What a day. So full of crowds in the Big Smoke. We haven’t seen you around for a while. You hibernating or sumpting?”
“Oh, you know me,” I said. “Just taking time out for a while. How is Geosomin?”
“Oh, fine, fine! She was asking after you too. Are you coming round to see the new baby?”
“Oh yes, the baby. I’ve not met him yet, have I? I will come round soon; just not today.”
“Don’t leave it too long.”
“I won’t. Well… I better be getting home now. Things to do.”

I stood up and packed the food away in my trolley. Sharky was in the park too, strolling around, so I popped him in the trolley and zipped up the lid. It was the best way to get him home through the streets. I was just about to set off when Pacian stopped me. “Sharky is kicking up a rumpus.”

I opened the trolley and peeked in… sure enough, Sharky wasn’t sitting purring as I had imagined – he was half standing, wailing anxiously at me, things falling on top of him.

“Oh,” I said, “I thought he was sitting comfortably on the rug, but he’s just jumbled up in there with the rest of my stuff.” I felt upset because he had been shouting inside the trolley and I didn’t hear… it took someone else to point it out.
I pulled everything straight so that the cat was sitting peaceably on the rug again, zipped up the trolley, and set off.

My way home lay through a market… it was half empty today, but I ran into an ex-colleague, Dick. He was packing up a stall.
“Nobody’s around,” he said. “I’m taking all this stuff back to the office.”
“It’s a nice day for it,” I said. “How’s Donna?”
“Donna’s her usual self.”
Once he told me Donna didn’t like the song ‘Oh Donna, you make me stand up; you make me sit down, Donna, sit down, Donna…’ I had grown up with the song, and didn’t sympathize – till I looked up the lyrics.
“How are things at work, Dick?”
“Oh, so-so. Every thing’s at sixes and sevens just now. We could do with more workers.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “But it’s a beautiful day and I’m enjoying my freedom. Have fun!”

I took off, leaving Dick labouring disconsolately.

Near the candyfloss stall, a large moth whirled round and round me, trying to escape the attentions of a large red-coloured rat. The rat ran round and round me, scrambling across my clothing. They were both moving very fast, and I caught the moth and held it between my hands, trying to protect it from the rat. My heart was in my mouth as I was worried the rat would get the moth anyway, and then I would feel terrible for trying to protect it and not succeeding. It was fine, though; I took the moth somewhere safe and let it fly away… and the rat never knew. It kept looking round for it, and eventually gave up and went to get some candyfloss instead.

Meanwhile, Samson and Delilah are still torturing all the flies they can catch. Those insects have no idea what it takes to stay out of the wee devils’ reach. I have rescued three so far, all lightly battering the palms of my hands. Yesterday when they were chasing one which was waving the white flag of surrender, I picked it up and popped it out of the window. The cats watched it zoom off into the blue, then turned and glared at me.

I don’t think I’m Person of Note around here at the moment…

Tagged by Kaz! I’m still impressed.
I particularly like the idea of adding pictures. Here’s my effort:

5 things in my bag:

I don’t have a bag any more: I have a trolley. The cats are curious to see what’s inside – they pop casually out of the top after a wee scrimmage around. I don’t keep them in there, though, so they’re not included in the following list.

1: Conversation notepad and my favourite pen (from Staples).

2: Cheap necklace of a dragon. Bought as a small gift for someone but still rattling around in my trolley.

3: Mobile phone. There is no QWERTY pad, so it’s a pain to text with.

4: RNLI luggage label, in case Bluebird (my trolley) gets himself lost.

5: Pentax microfibre lens wipe. It was bought twenty years ago for my Nikon camera, but is great for cleaning my specs. I have three dotted around the house as they’re never where I want them.

5 favourite things in my ROOM:

For ‘my’ room I’m talking about the one I’m sitting in: the sitting room upstairs. As the cats aren’t currently in it, they won’t be making it into this list either.

1: The bears. The white one sat with Fusspot the Siamese near the fire when he was unwell. The other softies belong to Mum, but they (and the black furry hat) sought sanctuary in here when she threatened to send them to charity. They are all quite big; the croc is over a metre long, but the brown bear is the biggest.

2: My bureau. I inherited it directly from a family member (that is, it wasn’t left to the family, it was left to me). I wish the kittens didn’t think it was brilliant fun to climb it by leaping on the shallow slope with all their claws out. Scratches are just about visible in the photo. The thing stuck on the glass is a monster cut from cheerful birthday paper. The monsters were blu-tacked to a door at my old house, and I’m not quite sure how they got over here.

3: Bluebird my trolley. Will go with me anywhere at any time without grumbling, and takes the weight of our shopping. On his own he is very lightweight, and can be collapsed flat when the car is full.

4: Disney print from The Jungle Book 1967. I bought it because it reminded me of my relationship with my sister. Which of us is which character, do you think? The answer is somewhere here.

5: The computers. Look at this pair… Mac and PC, cheek by jowl. You see the poor old PC in the middle of rendering an Apophysis fractal. It has six and a half hours left to go. I up-prop the keyboard so that the cats won’t tramp about on it and spoil the render. If you’re curious about the wallpaper on the Mac, you can find it here. It’s not by me, but I wish it was.

5 things I always wanted to do.

1: Write a book!!! (Yes, I know that’s an empty desire shared by millions).

2: See Africky again.

3: Get much more powerful computers, with all the rendering and graphics applications I could ever wish for (plus all the storage).

4: Enjoy my job (whatever it might be) so fully you couldn’t tear me away from it (brain fog without the guilt).

5: Escape into a time-suspended zone of my own so that by the time I’m fully refreshed and ready to face life again, I can pop out to discover that no time at all has gone by. The zone must not be Narnia, but it’s a similar idea.

5 things I’m currently into:

1: Computer graphics and digital photography.

2: Dean Koontz books, preferably the non-flippant ones. (I didn’t like Life Expectancy, which was about a clown, a baker, and people having babies).

3: Instant Mocha coffee. I thought there could be nothing better than Morrison’s instant mocha, but I was wrong. The star of the evening is now Nescafe Double Choca Mocha.

4: Blogs – I don’t know what I would do without mine and the community here.

5: Idling (of course!)

5 Persons to TAG:
Since I tagged people for my last one, I’ll let this one slide. Go ahead with the meme if you’re in the mood. Pictures are not required, but might make it more fun.

Jolly the Trolley spent his Christmas money on a young, strong apprentice.

After surfing the internet and leafing through catalogues (in vain), he rolled into Woolworth’s and stared up at a shelf near the ceiling, where a luggage line-up strutted their stuff. Amongst them was a sleek grey trolley backpack with orange markings. Jolly stood and stared for a long moment, then a grin broke across his face.

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Jolly?” we asked.
Of course he was sure. He was dreaming about this moment for months. Get a younger, stronger trolley to do all the work, and he himself could retire. Never again would he have to set wheel to pavement. It’s the ultimate Christmas present.

Thus, when we left Woolworth’s, it was with two trolleys in tow – Jolly in the lead with the youngster romping behind. I said nothing about naming it, but Mum and sister were already shuttling suggestions back and forth.
“Frisky!” said Mum.
“Jaffa,” said E, looking at the smart orange stripes.
I kept quiet, but at home I started thinking about the Jaffa in Stargate, rather than about Jaffa Cakes and Munchkins. My favourite Stargate character is a Jaffa called Teal’c. The name apparently means ’strength’ – an appropriate name for a trolley backpack. In other words, just the sort of fellow you want guarding your back.

It seems I’ve been mispronouncing the name for years. I rely heavily on TV subtitles and thought it was ‘Teal Cee’. Mum said she’s not certain but thinks they may have pronounced it ‘Tea Alk’. She adds that pronouncing it ‘Teal Cee’ the way I was doing sounds like Tender Loving Care (TLC). In her estimation, that doesn’t suit the real Teal’c – a grim warrior of very few words – but I’m not so sure: he’s a caring alien who loves his friends!

It’s a bit of a set-back, as now I tend to hesitate when saying the name - for instance: “Jolly and… [struggles]… Tea Alk.”
Never mind – practice makes perfect. Teal’c now goes with me on daily expeditions while his mentor Jolly spends his days snoozing by the fire.

A lot of people think trolleys have no feelings, and send them to the knackers as soon as they wear out. Dreadful thought. I should write a novel entitled Grey Beauty, which will draw society’s attention to the plight of the common working wheelie bag. We already have Jolly the Trolley in the place of Merrylegs the pony, and Teal’c (the Jaffa) instead of Ginger. Which leaves room for a Grey Beauty – or a Grey Shadow. Some day.

Edit Feb 2008: Comments for this entry when it was on Blogigo:

1. Bunnyman wrote at Jan 10, 2007 at 22:43:
Laptop cases sound great. That way you could blog from almost anywhere.Teal’c (I would have pronounced it ‘Tea Alk’ too) looks like a very eager and willing young trolley, bristling to show just how much he can carry.
It’s good that Jolly went too. I know that I hate being left out of important decisions like that.

Maybe Jolly, in his warm days by the fire, could write his version of “There and back again”, about his adventures to far supermarkets and the wonderful treasures he brought back from exotic charity shops?

2. Pacian wrote at Jan 11, 2007 at 13:39:
Teal’C is my mum’s favourite character as well. And she always pronounces Jaffa like the cake, even though it’s actually more like ‘Jafar’.

And I think they pronounce it more like Teelk. It’s definitely a monosyllabic word.

Anyway, I hope that Jolly will be suitably pampered and looked after now he is no longer working!

Some days ago I was in town with Jolly the Trolley. He is very noisy and can never tiptoe anywhere. I passed a couple who ‘froze’, and I turned to look at them, and the woman was glaring down as though to say “what is that AWFUL thing?” She probably knew I was looking at her, but that was the whole point – she didn’t want to catch my eye or speak to me, but she wanted me to see she thought Jolly shouldn’t be let loose on the streets – in fact she probably considered I shouldn’t be, either. Awful woman.

Oh, wait a minute – “who am I to judge?” It can be hard to remind myself of that; maybe she was having a bad day too.

Edit Feb 2008: some time after this humbling incident, Jolly the Trolley retired – replaced by a larger, quieter trolley with less character.

(1) I had some mugs waiting to go in the dishwasher – but a tiny spider stretched such a fine web across the mouth of one mug that you could barely see it shining in the sunlight. The spider itself was the merest speck, and I wondered what it hoped it might catch. Microbes?

I didn’t want to kill it in the dishwasher, so I put the mug aside. Every so often I checked, and the spider was still there. Then one day it was gone – and so was the web. I put my finger in and stirred it around, puzzled – the web was definitely gone. It was as though the spider had coiled it up like a length of elven rope and carried it off to a better home.

(2) I was setting off from my house, approaching a patch of grass where someone had put down a thick layer of white bread crumbs. Just in front of me, a large flock of busy brown birds came down in a clatter of wings. I drew nearer, with Jolly the Trolley rattling and rumbling in tow, and the birds immediately rose and sat on the nearest roof, staring down. It was only then that I noticed the black cat, sitting completely relaxed beside the bread crumbs. It had a delighted smirk on its face, as though to say “I was just sitting around doing nothing, and then suddenly, out of the blue…!”

Edit Feb 2008: Comments for this entry when it was hosted on Blogigo:

1. kateblogs wrote at Dec 2, 2006 at 19:44:
LOL I bet that cat couldn’t believe his luck.

2. Pacian wrote at Dec 3, 2006 at 12:45:
I think he was a sneaky cat with a loaf of bread and a cheese grater.

Jolly the Trolley is grinning from ear to ear this morning – he got a special poem from Neil, which I thought I would post here in case you miss seeing it in the comments. It made my day!

Jolly the trolley is rattling up the street
no one is pulling it

Jolley the trolley is turning on one wheel
but no one is looking

Jolley the trolley is racing back to home
not much fun out there
Alone

Neil Furby

It’s the last day I see Mum on this side of Halloween, so I set her Mac to randomly show a folder of Halloween desktop pictures which I accumulated secretly. I had just finished, and was sneaking away, when she appeared in the doorway and stared at the Mac.

She burst out laughing.
“Where did you get THAT?”

‘THAT’ was Midnight Trooper, the free Halloween picture from Digital Blasphemy. The Mac just so happened to choose it first.

“It’s from a computer art site. It says down here in the corner – Digital Blasphemy,” I said

I had finished walking the dog, and the day was already getting dim around the edges. “I better go home before it gets dark,” I said. “I don’t want to be caught when the ghosties and ghouls come out. Especially as there’s no Jolly the Trolley to protect me.”

“In that case,” said Mum, “he would probably get home before you.”

It’s not a coincidence that Mum ordered a printer so soon after I bought mine. She was going to buy more ink for her old one, and I told her the breakdown of my old printer was a blessing in disguise.

On-line reviews showed that people who were dissatisfied with their printers weren’t even waiting for them to kick the bucket. They checked out the competition and made the switch. It saved time, money and energy in the end. Makes me think of the old adage that we should not throw good money after bad, which is what you are doing if you hate your printer but continue to buy expensive inks for it. Your continued patience probably encourages the manufacturer to assume that the model is a winner.

It took the breakdown of my printer (and subsequent reading of reviews) to challenge my old-fashioned mindset. When I buy something, I expect it to last for years. To me, a printer is no more disposable than the oven. I would want to be relying on it for as long as possible. Anything else seems a sad waste – till one day you wake up and realize the real waste lies in:

1. the ink (due to a bad ink-changing system)
2. the paper (when the printer makes a mess)
3. your time and patience (when a simple printout becomes a battle of wits and takes all day)
4. your money

I don’t believe all printers are as bad as that, but I used to – it was all I knew.

There was one other printer I was completely happy with, and was sad to lose when I upgraded my computer. It was the Apple Stylewriter. That never gave me a day’s trouble. It stood upright and claimed very little room, but its reliability was the real plus. I would rather have a huge and reliable printer than a neat and cantankerous one – a simple one that works rather than a complicated one with lots of flashing lights and doodads that keeps me guessing.

I once believed in progress – imagine that! I genuinely believed that updated products were better. I was horrified to find myself buying some real lemons all of a sudden. The items I found reliable and cheap to run fell by the wayside and weren’t available any more. I’ve had particularly bad experiences with fax machines.

I didn’t mean this to turn into a diatribe on so-called technological progress (which feels much more like provide-the-manufacturers-with-undeserved-largesse)… I only looked in to apologize for my recent silence.

Jolly Update

Jolly the Trolley is still going strong. The other day Mum gave me a lift, and she took Jolly out to the car while I locked my door. I hurried out, flung open the passenger door, and found Jolly sitting in my seat, firmly strapped in.

Well, if he can remember to buckle up, so can everybody else.

During the Blog Monsoon (see last post but one) I found a nice collection of ‘anxiety blogs’ but they’ve actually been pretty quiet. I’m careful not to read them with too much absorption anyway, as I’m terrified they will set me off again! “Don’t think about the hippopotamus.” I’ve been so much better recently that the other day I was whizzing along the street in a total strop about something else. That’s good news.

Jolly the Trolley is still in tow. Mum tried to get me to leave him in the car, but I wouldn’t. I’ve picked him up and carried him, though, which means I’m not really leaning on him. I’ve got fond of him and have started saying encouragingly “come along now” (much to the bemusement of a nearby three-year-old). I also call him ‘him’ without thinking.

Yesterday I said to Mum, “the reason his long handle is rather stiff and I can’t collapse it back down is that he’s got a metal stud down here that’s gone rusty. I better treat it with WD-40.”

Mum, peering intently, said, “mm. I suppose you better.”

When we were in town, feeding cats and buying overpriced ink cartridges, we were crossing the road and Jolly the Trolley got so anxious about the waiting cars that he collided with Mum’s ankles. When we reached the safety of the pavement, Mum spun round and threatened to give him a good smack if he did it again. We both took a step backward.

It surely isn’t just us, though… have a look at this photo of Jolly the Trolley. Do you see a large toothy grin?

You sheltered me from harm
Kept me warm, kept me warm
You gave my life to me
Set me free, set me free
The finest years I ever knew
Was all the years I had with you

If there’s someone you know
That won’t let you go
And taking it all for granted
You may lose them one day
Someone takes them away
And you don’t hear a word they say

(from Everything I Own sung by Ken Boothe)

Edit Feb 2008: Comments for this entry when it was on Blogigo:

1. Pete wrote at Sep 22, 2006 at 21:18:
nice to put a face to the name

2. bluestone wrote at Sep 22, 2006 at 23:12:
ha! I do see that smile!

3. kateblogs wrote at Sep 23, 2006 at 17:48:
Yip a definite smile

4. Pacian wrote at Sep 23, 2006 at 18:01:
I also see a nose and a pair of sunglasses…

5. Diddums wrote at Sep 23, 2006 at 18:30:
I guess he needs the sunglasses because he’s looking up into the sun so much of the time.

6. Sacha, from IrkedMagazine.com wrote at Sep 25, 2006 at 15:58:
AHA! So THAT’S what Jolley the Trolley (J.Tro?) looks like! Handsome bugger, he is…!

I dig the way you write, Diddums.

Get in touch; come write an article for IrkedMagazine.com…

Agoraphobic people hate sunlight. Well we don’t really, but you know what I mean! It encourages people to come out and trail around in large shambly groups; everything we do is lit up in a bright glare which makes us even more self-conscious; some agoraphobics have a sensitivity to light – maybe all of us do without realizing it? We have to take off our jackets and sweaters when we would rather huddle into them, and there’s no excuse to put up our hoods (unless we’re hoodies) or duck under an umbrella.Bright sunshine is overrated!

Too many folks!

At one point I couldn’t move. “They have nothing else to do on a Sunday,” said Mum, apologetically. But on the whole I was in a good mood and smiled at everybody and made room for them, and me and the wheelie bag went skipping about (yes I know that’s bad grammar) and nobody fell over us this time. Well, when you were feeling agoraphobic in town – dizzy and not even able to cross the road – it’s a huge relief when you can go where you want and buy things without hesitating and gallop blithely across roads which would have made you shudder only a fortnight ago. That would put anybody in a good mood because then it stops being something you take for granted.

Jolly’s tricks

I bet none of you realized wheelie bags can walk – I was trying to move it down off the kerb, and it put one wheel down then swung the other down to join it. Thus, instead of falling down with a bump, it stepped neatly off, and I wanted to cheer and tell it how clever it was. Yesterday it had a slight accident when it crashed rather hard over a rough bit of the pavement, and I came uncomfortably close to patting it and telling it “there there, it’s alright.” It took me ages to shake off the urge. Anyway it did good work for us today by taking some heavy and bulky items off our hands; it wasn’t just wheeling around in our wake. Mum collected some used coffee grounds from Starbucks for the garden, and when we gave it to the wheelie bag to carry, it lumbered around like an overfed bulldog.

Buying beary love

Here’s a picture of two of my ‘junk shop finds’ for today – a Primark bear and a Disney Tigger. I collect ‘name’ toys, which includes Russ Berrie, Boyds and Disney – emphasis is on cats and bears. Normally I wouldn’t pay attention to something like a Primark bear as it’s just a cheapie, but every so often there’s something about a cheapie bear that I can’t resist! This one is very soft to the touch and has nice features. I always look critically at bears in shops – trying to give the impression I’m buying them for a child and am just checking them over. I’m not sure how many of the volunteers are taken in, as most of them know us well by now. Anyway, I turned him upside down and round about, gave the ears a tug, parted the fur and smoothed it back from the eyes to check for scratches or cracks, then seized the chin to make sure his mouth wasn’t flapping loose. I suddenly felt as though I was checking the teeth of a nag in Tattersalls.

Tigger only made it because he’s so beautifully clean and has a nice face too – normally Disney is at the bottom of my collection scope.

I’m not a horror fan but I’m an Alien fan

My prime find for today was a clean boxed set of Alien videos for £10. I’ve had my eye on these for a while as they are close-captioned but expensive brand new. After buying this set, we went into the charity shop next door and found they had a set for £11. I’m glad it wasn’t the other way around! A while ago I passed over a set which was £12 – I seem to remember one of the videos in the set was ‘the making of the film’, and those aren’t normally subtitled.

The set I bought was in the shop window, and I had to ask the volunteer for it - he was a boy of about 20, I think, and when I said “the boxed set of Alien, please!” a look of respect came into his eyes. I got much the same look in a shop in York when I grabbed a bunch of videos which were largely science fiction - one was Judge Dredd, unfortunately not subtitled, but I knew I had to have it in my collection ‘just because’. Maybe I’ll find a subtitled DVD of it one day? I love Judge Dredd; it’s one of my favourite films and I could watch it forever without getting sick of it.

The magic of books

I know some of you are a little suspicious of ‘things’ as they just gather dust and take up room (unless you can sell them for a profit on eBay), but ‘things’ are not all I bought - I got six books, including Make Room! Make Room! by Harry Harrison - £1.75. I’ve liked his books ever since I borrowed The Stainless Steel Rat from the library. Today I had to buy Make Room! Make Room! after reading the blurb on the back:

1999 – automation, total welfare, and weekends on the moon…. or an overcrowded world that knows that the dawn of the new century is the edge of disaster – a world of starving billions living on lentils, soya beans and – if they’re lucky – the odd starving rat. In a city of thirty-five million people, Andy Rusch is engaged in a desperate and lonely hunt for a killer everyone has forgotten… for even in a world such as this a policeman can find himself utterly alone…

Totally my cup of tea. And bagsies the well-fed rat I spotted near the car dealership.

Spooky purchases

We had lunch in a café and ate silently. Upon finishing, Mum announced rather loudly “I’m going to buy a broomstick.”
“Ha ha,” I said politely… but then we went into the garden centre where she picked up a really witchy broomstick and bought it without any humming and hawing. I had no idea these were available and my eyes popped. “What are you going to do with that?” I demanded, as we toted it along to the car. Her only answer was to tap the side of her beaky nose.

I felt a Halloweeny tug of my own when we passed a mound of pumpkins, and stopped short and gazed with all my eyes. I really wanted to buy one but was already carrying books and videos and rubber mats and things. Even the wheelie bag took fright at the thought of adding a pumpkin to the load. I’ve never considered buying one before, which is a good reason why I should do it for once. And only this morning I was attracted by Timorous Beastie’s blog post, Orange Rock. I don’t know about chasing the thing around my house, but I want to make Pumpkin Soup too. Anyone got any good recipes?

Edit Feb 2008: Comments to this post when it was on Blogigo:

Pete wrote at Sep 3, 2006 at 22:43:
bear is cute !!

Diddums wrote at Sep 4, 2006 at 09:19:
Bear says thank you!

Pacian wrote at Sep 4, 2006 at 19:43:
“Maybe I’ll find a subtitled DVD of it one day?”

It’s rare to find a DVD that isn’t subtitled.

Love the bear, btw!

Uneasy traveller

On Friday we went back to the NHS audiologist, which was not a satisfactory expedition. I get travel-sick just going to the next village, and here we were going to the next town. My stomach was lurching unhappily by the time we got there. If you want to be alert for your appointment you have to lay off the travel pills. It seems mad to have to leave the local town when all you’re doing is having hearing aids reviewed.

My sister has finished with the reviews now, but I have to go back next week as the computer went phut! More travel sickness and agoraphobic lurchings through the hospital. What a delightful plan.

No such thing as perfection

I’m realizing these hearing aids will never be crystal clear. They were worse instead of better when the audiologist adjusted them last time, and that’s what I was trying to get them to change away from today. It’s strangely hard to get it right. You’re sitting in a small booth with someone you’re not used to, who says “does that sound better? Can you hear what I’m saying?”

The answer that comes to mind is a jumble of: “yes, I hear you, but we’re two people sitting in a small booth, you’re speaking distinctly and I’m looking at your face – chances are I would hear (or guess) what you said anyway. And it has no bearing on whether I’ll hear certain sounds or tones better.”

Instead, you say rather weakly, “I hear your voice but I don’t know if it’s better.”
You really don’t. You won’t know till you get home and realize you hear something you’ve never heard before, or no longer hear something that used to be clear (like a beep).

When you’re at the optician’s, you can make a direct comparison between one lens and another. “Is this better… or this? Is this better… or this?”
At the audiologist’s, it’s not like that. It’s simply “does this sound better now – can you hear my voice?”
Well yes – but your voice sounded much the same last time. I simply can’t tell.

You feel worried (having already experienced a bad decision) that one setting is better than the other and you will plump for the wrong one. You hesitate and the audiologist shuffles impatiently. She has other patients and is running late. But you face another queasy trip to the hospital if you get it wrong.

Before I even got there, I decided to have the aids set back to the way they were originally; I was hearing worse at home after she changed them. Unfortunately that didn’t get done, and I have to go back next week because of her wretched computer breaking down.

Summer time, and the living is easy…

As it’s summer and there are lots of people swarming all over, my agoraphobia has taken a slight hold again. The holidays ironically mean that I have extra pet minding to do. I’ve been looking after up to three pet households every day for the past three weeks. I have one more day to go (a dog walk) and then I’ll get two days off.

At the hospital it was one of those days with the same people stuck in the same waiting room chairs every time you glanced round. Wearisome. I was happy to escape, and as I buckled myself into the passenger seat of my sister’s car, I thought “now it’s straight sailing – she’ll drop me off at home and I can have lunch and a rest, surrounded by lacy pink curtains, loving cats and soft bears. Thus comforted and refreshed, I’ll head out to walk dog and feed guinea pigs, taking my wheelie bag with me for company. It will be a doddle.”

When I feel jittery about going out, I pull the wheelie thing around – it makes me feel better. Don’t laugh! It’s funny but also a dratted nuisance. I left it behind when we went to the hospital, as I had no intention of sitting in the corridor watching people falling over it.

Unfortunately, E stopped at Mum’s saying she had something to pick up. She would have taken me home after that, as it was still on her way, but I was now very close to both the dog and the guinea pigs. I knew I should stay and sort them out first – much more energy-efficient. No rest, lunch or bears for Diddums yet.

Stranded without my wheels

E waved goodbye and drove off. I walked and fed the animals and by that time Mum had come home. We had tea and lemon cake and watched shows about presenters making people auction family heirlooms from their attics that they didn’t want to auction just so they could blow the cash on holidays to mega cities in America. It made me cringe.

To my relief, Mum offered to drive me back. “You have some stuff to take home,” she said.
“Yes, please,” I said. “E stranded me here without my wheelie thing.”
Mum gave me a beady-eyed look but I just chuckled.

Again I buckled myself into a passenger seat, sighing with relief and thinking, “now it’s straight sailing. Home for a very late lunch, TV, purring cats and snuggly bears. I can’t wait!”
Backing the car out, Mum said “I’m going to Morrisons supermarket on the way. Anything you need?”
My shoulders drooped, and I groaned internally. Supermarkets are the bane of any self-respecting agoraphobic’s existence – especially on Friday afternoons in the summer.
“Yes,” I admitted reluctantly, “I need a few things.”

So we trotted around the heaving supermarket (myself firmly attached to a nice big wheelie trolley). There was one awkward moment when I had to take the empty trolley away and leave it in a trolley park, then cross the road back to the car.

Home!

Having arrived safely home, I put everything away, fed the cats, got my late lunch, and snuggled down with a huge pink bear to watch TV. After a while we had supper and continued to watch the TV. Normally I’m reading blogs and checking my emails every chance I get, but I felt I’d had enough of the rest of the world in any shape or form, and fell asleep.

When I woke up again it was 9pm and there was a cat sleeping on top of me, paws trailing. Big Brother was just starting. I haven’t been watching it but they mentioned evictions, so I stayed and watched. Maybe I wanted to see someone else squirming instead of me… just for a change. I didn’t know any of them from Adam, but looked the candidates over and said “I predict the two being evicted today are Mikey first and Susie second, in that order.” I was right.

But then I got cross over the Big Brother attitude that Susie should have joined the others in horsing around and getting drunk. They evicted her because she didn’t. I say, more power to her! She’s well out of it. Last but not least, one of the guys in the Diary Room said a very odd thing. “I feel cocooned in here – safe. I don’t really want to go home to the world out there.”

Wow. But I think so many of us must feel that way. Having just watched Grumpy Old Holidays where they agreed that the worst thing about holidays is other people, I just know we are not remotely alone…

Edit Feb 2008: Comments to this post when it was on Blogigo:

kateblogs wrote at Aug 6, 2006 at 14:27:
Yuk, Big Brother. The contestants really are a bunch of twits, and they are encouraged to demonstrate this at every opportunity. I suppose it boosts the viewing figures, but it would be nice to see a programme that applauded mature behaviour.

Those series that get people to sell their stuff, I wonder if the participants feel any regret when they get back from the holiday. Some of the things they sell obviously have sentimental value, I don’t think I could flog something like that for such a trivial reason.

Oh, and you have my sympathies. I suffer from travel sickness too. Some days I can get into the nearest town without feeling ill, but others, well, suffice it to say I’m feeling pretty green around the gills by the time I arrive LOL

Diddums wrote at Aug 7, 2006 at 01:27 o\clock:
I know I would regret the sale of family heirlooms and such – I would want at least to think hard about what I was doing, and reinvest the capital or something… I know I say some rude things about banks, but I do sound like my father’s daughter sometimes!

Ah ha, another bad traveller – it’s funny how it comes in waves. I wonder if you also find that if you feel ill on the outward journey, you’ll probably feel as right as rain when you return, even if there is a lapse of a couple of weeks? I’m not sure if there are lingering effects from the travel pills, or if it has nothing to do with that.