Where have all the flowers gone

Long time passing...

Peter, Paul and Mary's song comes to mind today.

Over the last few weeks, I've come across good news, not so good news and downright disturbing news and events.

Okay, tempus fugit applies and is irreversible. Some things and events it's good and a relief to consign to the past. Others cannot fade fast enough.

This time last year, world news was awash with events in a small settlement known as Whaley Bridge, where part of a dam wall was threatening to collapse leading to inundation from Toddbrook Reservoir. The emergency services responded to the challenge, and with the aid of the RAF and a Chinook helicopter, the wall was stabilised.

Twelve months on and plenty of civil engineering works later, the threat to Whaley Bridge has diminished.

Long time ago...

Reading recent posts, I came across comments on a paragraph from an old newspaper, The report concerned domestic coal fires and the consequences of allowing soot deposits to build-up in the chimney. Intrigued, I read some of the posts, only to find that no-one understood the seriousness of the incident.

Having grown up in houses heated solely by a coal fire in the living room, time for me to realise once more how long ago that was. My first home was in a terraced house, commonly referred to as 'two-up two-down'. Downstairs the front door opened straight into the front room. No fancy names, simply front room. The stairs leading down from the two upstairs bedrooms being between the front room and kitchen, The front bedroom had its own cast iron fireplace. It was rented accommodation, even today it is still leasehold. It had sash windows with wooden frames. 

Back to the article on chimney fires. Coal fires produce smoke, heat, soot and ash. Chimneys needed sweeping to remove soot deposits and prevent soot building up to a dangerous level. Chimney fires were a well-acknowledged hazard. In a terraced house, soot build-up was even more dangerous. A chimney fire could not only set fire to the chimney from floor to roof, it could spread to other houses in the row via the roof space.

As the NHS creeps and crawls along...

Better by luck than by judgement, our NHS struggles day-to-day.
Riddled with problems bureaucratic, problems political (shambolic), along with a multitude of personnel and human problems.

August 3rd 2018 as a result of a fall, my shoulder was damaged (badly).

Have spent the time since then at the beck and call of various 'agencies'; all parts of the NHS.

Several appts with various MCAS staff. Doing the appts 'dance' making sure (eventually) of a necessary referral.

Even contacted at least two other organisations belonging to the NHS in the hope of obtaining the necessary referrals.

Culminated in day surgery Broadgreen Hospital orthopaedics consultant 29/09/2019.

Life-changing fall leading eventually to life-changing surgery.

This week has brought various postal communications from the hospital.
Appointment to 'see' surgeon or part of his team. 19th inst.
Appointment at the Alexandra Wing 'critical' care physio 11th inst.

Copy of treatment document from Ward nurse...Marion.
Buried in that document - referral to treatment clinic 13th inst. BUT had to phone treatment appointments to 'confirm' appt. Most pleasant person at the other end explained the conundrum. Although I have the letter, no-one has notified the Treatment Centre with the info. Appts choc-a-bloc but none available because of missing communication!

Luckily, I've been told of a work-around as in my 'local drop-in / walk-in centre'.

Oh what a week

Definitely one of 'those' weeks...

By far the biggest event was my Goddaughter's Wedding...must have been quite a performance. The wedding cake was certainly a bespoke one-of designed and made by one of her friends who makes cakes and suchlike professionally.

As I said a most unusual cake!

Perfect for this modern couple. 

After happiness came sadness...

2002-2019

GSD puppy 2002

Handsome guy...

Now, I have lost my shadow...he personified the phrase 'dogging my footsteps'.

Formerly the envy of the World or not

Apparently, the good old NHS has been the 'envy of the World'.

But, our dear old NHS is rapidly becoming not fit for purpose. More often than not the GPs at the heart of the service are part-timers. Actually obtaining a GP appt is not quite as rare a hen's teeth, but it appears that way.

I had the same GP for several years. Then he began phoning in ill, and it occurred when I was supposed to see him. This led to being fobbed-off with a-n-others including the latest Practice Nurse and a student doing his practical in the community.

With one problem I ended up contacting the local CQC (Care Quality Commission). After 10 months I finally got a hospital appt. Better still I was referred for pre-op assessment.

Over the last month, I've become aware of back pain, more precisely in the area of my right kidney. Cue - Worry... Then I tried to get a GP appt. only to be told there were none available until next month. Also, on a Wednesday only one GP is in attendance and surgery closes at mid-day. Even more startling was being informed that they do not provide emergency appts!

Hence, I made my way to the local Drop-in centre. As its name suggests, no appts, you just turn up. How long you are there is like answering the question, 'How long is a piece of string'?

Reassuringly you are guaranteed to be triaged and seen by nurses. As I learnt to my cost from one nurse 'am a complex' person i.e. having a long case history due to getting older.

Then I found out that the prescribing nurse was off ill. However, I did receive a thorough examination.  Two litres of water imbibed later, I went home.

The next couple of days were too hot and humid to venture out. I went back to the Drop-in centre yesterday complete with urine sample. Back thro' triage with a different nurse since it was a different team. Back to another interview and obs etc. The hot, humid weather and stress accounting for raised pulse / heart rate. What had been commented on as 'low' at the pre-op assessment had morphed into 'worrying' high reading. Then the nurse too the water sample for testing. Good news! Everything she tested came back as Negative. Suddenly it was worth all the waiting to know that.

Negative results are Good! No signs of any infection. Hence the back pain is not a result of infection! Hooray!

Continuing conversation with nurse led to her recommending that I make a formal complaint to the Practice Manager. Too many people are being fobbed off by Health Centres / GP Surgeries and attending Walk-in Centres.

Pre-op assessment

Arrived well in time for appt. a good half-hour early. 
Apart from it being 4th corridor on the right instead of 3rd, no probs.

Pre-op receptionist C***g proved to be the original jobsworth. Usually, reception is happy to take details from your appt. letter. No way, instead of using the appt. notice, this guy wanted to check all details 

Fortunately, nurse J****e was pleasant and cheerful. Poor girl was in charge of swabs.

Then it was Can***e who took me thro' reams of questions. She had a 2nd-year student nurse with her. Part-Jokingly I said I'd been taking deep, calming breaths. 
Student took my blood pressure which was surprisingly low 90/63 so she did an old-fashioned pulse check. A.O.K. Heart rate 70! 

Next, it was off to another wing of the hospital. If only someone had said, 'Ground floor'. Took a while to get our bearings; then it was E.C.G. followed by bloods.

Ch**s who did the E.C.G. was pleasant...so, later was the guy who did the bloods. 
Quote, 'don't let anyone tell you there's any problems; you have fine veins, but they flow well'.

After a certain age...

the medics, opticians, dentists and various hospitals become part of everyday lie.

Today at the opticians it was almost easier to list what's working properly than to list various difficulties.

Hip-replacement op will be required probably age over 70 as the penny-pinching NHS opine that it ought not to be done before that age.

Cataracts have appeared and are developing in not one, but both eyes. Otherwise both eyes are healthy and sight remains appropriate to allow me to drive. Still on two-year callback but with the caveat to come back earlier if I notice significant worsening.

Post-herpetic neuralgia will be with me until the end of days.

Tomorrow's appointment at a different major hospital is to investigate shoulder probs. The 'Jury' is out as to whether there are any fractures, whereabouts and how many are to be determined. However, in due time as in a two and a half week wait for the appt.

Himself is not a 'happy bunny' having had a long wait this morning before I came out of the opticians to be taken back home.

How long the wait might be tomorrow is another unknown factor; as too are the charges for parking at the hospital. Two other hospitals let you have the first half-hour 'free'. Scuse the pun, bit time will tell.

This month also entailed a check-up at the dentists - come back in six months...

From 1932 until 2018

The bungalow was home to one family who bought it from new. When Marie moved in the dwelling was the last one, there were no others. The bungalow housed Marie and her growing family throughout the 20th century. When she looked out of her kitchen window, all was rural with a clear view across to the Pennines.

Suffice it to say that when you have a neighbour like Marie, there was mutual respect and friendship was in abundance.

Time rolled on and Marie brought up her family. She and her husband raised 4 boys. Two married and one made a success of everything he did. He's become the sort of person for whom 'money is no object'. He passed on success to his son, who seems to have inherited the golden business touch.

One made and lost money several times eventually his business in Cornwall led him to being declared  bankrupt. He went on to live in South Africa. He and his bosom male buddy run a successful accommodation business in Cape Town.

One married twice and both marriages failed. Marie had liked wife #1 and they became friends. Marie altered her will when she had had enough of wife #2 and excluded her. 

Marie lived alone after her husband died (1984) and all the lads had moved out. She died towards the end of 2000. Her funeral was well-attended; I took the afternoon off to go to the church service. The church was full.

One of her sons died in 2002.

She might have lived on her own, but she was hardly ever lonely as so many people visited her, cared for her and looked after her.

The eldest (richest) son always sent her a hamper from Harrods for Christmas.

Every Tuesday she passed across her shopping list and told us of any little jobs she'd like doing.

She is as the saying goes sadly missed.

Six months on or thereabouts

Finally got appt. for the osteology dept. at the hospital.

Left early and it was good thing we did because of road closures, diversions, and rush hour.

The signposting for the diversion was worse than useless. Only useful sign said 'Road Closed'.  Thinking back, it must be some 40+ years since I regularly drove the highways and by-ways  of that part of the city. Even went past the detached house where I was in digs for a couple of years.

Surgeon was busy, some 45 mins late, but so long as I know I need to wait, that is no problem. 

The idea of injections was floated and discounted, They would be most uncomfortable and unlikely to have even the slightest positive effect. 

I now have to tackle the idea of weight-loss more seriously.

West Riding, Derbyshire, Hants and Middlesex

Take a family of textile workers in the West Riding. One son rather than follow into the textile trade becomes a joiner. Cyrus became a skilled wood-worker craftsman. For no apparent reason he moves to and settles in Derbyshire where he sets up in business and employs several workers. His younger brother joins him from the W. Riding.

Typically, families had a set of names that were passed down through the generations. In this family those names are

Cyrus - this name stands out as being a more unusual one.
I have traced the various people christened Cyrus from the West Riding via Derbyshire to Portsea and thence to London, Middx.

Cyrus Alfred born Portsea, Hampshire to Frederick (son of Cyrus from W. Riding) and his third, yes third wife Mary.

Wife #1 Sarah Ann - died

Wife #2 Rebecca -  married Frdk 1880
By 1891 Frdk has moved to Portsea, Hants.

Wife #3 Mary - widow already had 3 children from first marriage (Arthur, Ernest and Lionel)

Fred son of Frederick and Mary (Portsea)


Brother Walter, draughtsman worked at H. M. Portsmouth Dockyard.

When their father dies in 1925, Walter and Frederick inherit £1009 18s 10d.

Walter and Fred's brother Cyrus Alfred b. 1897 becomes well-known baritone and works in the theatre industry. Moves up to London to become theatre manager. Marries Bertha - a theatrical wig dresser.

Frederick - Cyrus' brother leaves W. Riding to follow Cyrus to Derbyshire. Leaves Derbyshire for America in 1857 only to perish a few years later in an accident.

Cyrus' son Frederick has family in Derbyshire and the 1881 census proves he is working in the family business.

However, by 1891 he's in Southsea where he lives until the end of his days. How or why he ended up leaving Derbyshire and creating his third family remains a mystery.

Change, change, change

Recently peeps in an online forum have been posting about P.G.C.E. which nowadays bears no resemblance to way back when.

Some of the daft ideas would be priceless if they were joking; but sadly daft ideas prevail.

Took me back to times long past.

Spending time on observation in primary school. The staff worked in a challenging area (inner city). One school inspection comes readily to mind. The Nurse sent lots of children home because if various infestations. 

Then there was a C of E school in a borough that had Middle School and Primary schools only had children up to the age of 9. Then they went to Middle School and finished off at secondary. The junior school was across a busy road from the church which had grassland behind it.  They had a special visitor one day as the Bishop of Wigan toured the school.

Previously, there were school in Cumbria and Rose Lane Liverpool. the former was experimenting with open classrooms, a specially built school where all classrooms were open, no doors! Rose Lane primary, the expectation was to teach the Headteacher's class (gulp). Typical of urban schools several pupils did not have English as first lang.

Traditional

Side gate with uneven path

Double gateway

Someone else can care for all that grass!

Wondering what new owners or developers will do?

Photo designed to make rooms appear larger.

Time for a clear out.

1932 bungalow part of linear suburban development. 

One family owned the property until 2018. Four sons raised there, each went their separate ways.

One moved to South Africa

Eldest now lives in the S.E. having moved nearer to grandchildren.

Another was in the police force and died in the 20th century.

Finally, the youngest brother, the one that could not bear to part with this dwelling...has had decision-making taken out of his hands.

Eldest brother, probably egged on by domineering wife, sent nephew up north to get rid of the place.

Down memory lane

Social media has a group
Clitheroe Past and Present
there folk share old pix and many a reminiscence.

Getting nearer to year's end seems a good enough time for musings and borrowings.

When folks' lives stem from places rich in history, some areas are more conspicuous than others.

Take an old Norman Keep and its surroundings then delve into the past as it resonates into the future. 

Formerly part of Lord Montague's estates the Keep and its surroundings were purchased for posterity as the town's War Memorial soon after World War I. 

Typically in that area much of the funding was collected door to door from local inhabitants and topped up by donations from local worthies.

Some 50+ year's later the town decided on a swimming baths.

Once again local folk went door to door making collections in their part of town. Each area had their local collector who arrived weekly and each household dibbed in what they could. 
Then the swimming baths were built and are still there to this day. Previously, we swam in the river and some still swim in the river today.

May she will stay as in Simon and Garfunkel

Unusual weather seems to have become the norm. North-South airstreams more typical of Winter than of Spring. They continue because of high pressure systems lining up one after another.

This fine but chilly weather has brought on an outbreak of gardening. The grass has had several haircuts already. I say grass as one area is lawn, but the other round the fruit trees could nay would never be a lawn.

Then there's the venerable greenhouse, transported having been disassembled long ago from the garden in N.E. Lancs and reassembled here.

With Spring comes growth and there's the remnants of a privet hedge in a back corner that needed attention. Out came the extension leads and hedge-trimmer. Large garden collection bin filled brim-full and beyond. Not forgetting to give the berberis canadesis shrub a short back and sides.

Next came a visit to the local Garden Centre. We came back with tomato plants, Vermiculite and two new azaleas, a white and a rich purplish one.

Gardening has broken out in force. Wild garlic had invaded part of a flower bed. It was hard work, but it has been cleared.

MCAS

...that 'necessary' process when osteoarthritis has been declared.

Musculoskeletal Assessment ''Service'' which in old 'money' is physiotherapy.

Begins with GP referral which is both frustrating and laughable.

Form duly completed by me at the surgery and left for processing. Feb. 3rd

Nothing heard from MCAS until Feb. 28th

Letter informing / instructing me to phone up and make appt.

Then all went pear-shaped.

Person on other end said I'd been taken off the referral list because I had not replied within the fortnight!

Obviously MCAS have a different time-zone.

Letter dated 22nd Feb. received 28th Feb, post-marked 27th Feb - go figure! 

Eventually after much argy-bargy I was given an appt April 10th which turned out to be 45 mins of 'grilling' going thro' a long drawn-out form on computer. Followed by another appt. on April 24th. The later was more ridiculous...trying to get someone the osteoarthritis to do moves as tho' there is no deformity of the hip and no pain. 

Then she added insult to injury by talking thro' recommended exercises and providing me with booklets even tho' I already had downloaded them. Make another appt. for three weeks time? I offered to bow out, but she was insistent.

I am far from sanguine about the outcome...

It's history

When a conversation turns into an impromptu history lesson.

Chatting earlier today we both went back down memory lane with Andy who must be only late 20s at the most. We were talking car registrations, it being that time of year when the new 17 plates come out. 

Both of use could remember our first car reg but nothing much after that. Mine was BFM which a friend suggested stood for Bl**dy fine motor. Fine it was not, but I learnt to drive with it and happily drove in the opposite direction to most of the rush hour traffic that was stop-go into the city as I drove out.

This led eventually to my Marina, not so much as vehicle but welding practice. With a rotten floor that we replaced with pieces of dexion shelving welded into place. A front wing that ended up more 'cocky' as in body-filler than metal. Then I remembered the Marina had drum breaks. we checked them by removal, placing in a large pan on the stove and heating to reveal any cracks.  

Safer modern vehicles have disc brakes all round.

I was hankering after another Yaris until I found out that it still has drum breaks on the back. Also as himself remarked he'd feel happier with more metal to the 'box'.

With apols to Flanders and Swann

"Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do."

Back in September 2016 there was the indoor flood as the old lead pipe rising main gave way.

19th September aka 'give a little man a job'.

It would appear we have been labouring under the misapprehension that we have a water meter and that it was fitted last September.

According to the billing section of United Utilities the water rates charges have been based on rateable value as we have no meter. Of course the letter arrives with the Saturday post so nothing can be done before Monday. 

Big companies must waste far too much money sending out computer generated formulaic documents. 
Some property requires a water meter?
Send out letter informing of site inspection visit...
Send forth little man to conduct the inspection...
G.A.L.M.A.J. 'give a little man a job'.
Hopefully little man returns to an office with the information...
G.A.L.M.A.J. 'give a little man a job'.
Send team of little men to install meter?
G.A.L.M.A.J. 'give a little man a job'.
That's what was assumed to have taken place nearly six months ago....

Hence my reference to Flanders and Swann

Next there's yet another 'we will send out someone to perform the inspection'.

Phone-call again to UU and reassurance (eventually) that the visit is to fit a meter.

Wouldn't it be fun to find a meter already in place and staring at them when the lid is lifted!

and with apols to the late great Sir Terry Pratchett -

UU would stand for the

Unseen University

wouldn't it?

Last of the group of friends

SEDGEMAN Jimmy On Monday 16th January 2017, suddenly at Treliske Hospital, William James (Jimmy) aged 80 years of Pendeen.

An 80-year-old man has died after his car was involved in a crash with a parked car in Pendeen this week.

Emergency services were scrambled to Boscaswell Terrace at 8.55 am on Monday after a silver Ford Fiesta collided with a parked car - a purple BMW - but police have only just released the details.

At the time of the collision the 80-year-old local man who was driving the Ford was taken to hospital with what was thought to be a minor head injury.

However, a spokesman for Devon and Cornwall Police has since confirmed that the man has died.

Kel phoned several times this week with news of Jimmy. The local grapevine insisted Jimmy died at the scene, but the local newspaper says otherwise.

Geevor mine where Jimmy worked closed years ago. The group of friends had known each other from schooldays. Most if not all spent their lives in the village of Pendeen on Boscaswell estate.
True Cornishmen with strong Cornish accents. It took time to tune in to what they said. Women of any age were always (allus) addressed as 'maid'. Men were allus 'pard'. At the weekend they spent time in Penzance, wandering along the Promenade, 'aving a bit of a natter. Then they went on their routine pub crawl. They drank and smoked heavily. Often opinionated, some had hearts of gold. They could always be counted upon to 'set the world to rights'.
Theirs was the generation that went down the mine on leaving school and spent their working lives down there.
If the mine had continued, the next generation would have followed in their footsteps.

History repeating

The older I get, the more noticeable it becomes as events clash with one another. 

December is already marred as there was the anniversary of a funeral on the 18th. 

January is forever marred by the events of 1984. What an appropriate year you might say with the Orwellian story '1984'.

33 years ago, but it feels much fresher in my memory. But, it isn't every day you lose someone that was of great importance to you. Or that their sudden demise coincided with your dear friend's birthday. The events of January 1984 resound across the years. At least nowadays I no longer sink so rapidly into the depths of despondency. 

This is were social media raises its ugly head. There folk post poignant remembrances which at this time of year tend to hit a nerve.

Putting on my tech awareness 'hat', it makes me uneasy to read how much really personal information folk share so openly and so carelessly on-line. Less is more as in asking those folk to omit personal data, leave it stored safely in that most human of memory-banks - your brain.

Curious

Borrowed from a post by an on-line friend.

Granted I have a soft spot for all things owl in many forms. Apparently this image is of a plaque on a building in Cambridge.

Two dates might be someone's life from 1851-1934.

The owl clutches a scroll in its' claw - often a sign of learning, accomplishment sometimes a degree. It's perched on a mortar bowl with accompanying pestle. Then there's the 'ribbon' with necessary Latin tag-line.

Curious...hoping it'll be made clear eventually.

Wolcum Yole

Benjamin Britten 'A Ceremony of Carols' is the essence of Christmas. 

Doing the last bit of shopping this morning, I was struck by the frenetic trolley stuffing of those that just had to buy more and more. I had a few odds and ends in mine, but I saw tandem shoppers, those that had a trolley each rushing round to fill both. Then there was the bloke behind me at the checkout whose trolley was all alcoholic beverages.

Social media is stuffed with images of Christmas trees of all shapes, sizes and decorations. It's also the place for folk to dwell on those no longer around, anniversaries of deaths and funerals.

November to January deaths seem more telling. Now my Christmas card list contains more crossings out again this year. 10th Dec. 2006 Pol died and her funeral was on the 18th Dec. For ever more those dates have those memories. November is when several long-time OUers departed this life. My former colleague always has a difficult time at Christmas because her husband died on Christmas Eve. 

My personal loss was January 1984, a month that rocked my life permanently off its even keel.

Advert slots are for perfumes and gifts, with twee saccharine versions of Christmas. 

My neighbour calls it grumble time, quite rightly. She always wants to be left be from Christmas Eve to after New Year. Yet, 3 different sets of people 'want her' for Christmas. The run up is marked by Jan & Ron squabbling over what to eat. Carol and Dave too squabble and make timetable changes depending on who of their family wants to do what. Paul & Ann think neighbour ought not to be alone and vie to get her to be with them.

News Alert!
There are those that do not mind Not joining in with the Revelry. Especially those like my neighbour who for health reasons has a very restricted diet. She's happy in her own company, knowing the her neighbours are nearby just in case. 

Christmas can be a time of ill-tempered and totally selfish behaviour. In the run up so many folk a stressed out trying to achieve the unattainable. 

Then there's the myth of childhood Christmases past. 

The highlights of my Christmases were walking to church and taking part in various services. Only to return home to find 'armed neutrality' and a feeling of 'stepping on eggshells'. No details. Except for the time we saved Christmas by rescuing the food and heaving a sigh of relief because mother stormed out. (Not an unusual occurrence).

Ending on a happier note...
There were the times when as part of a choir, I sang at performances of
Benjamin Britten - 'A Ceremony of Carols' and Handel's 'Messiah'.