Tag: Charles Heath

You don’t know what you’ve got till its gone

On Sunday morning we lost the internet.  I went out onto my office and saw the flashing lights on the modem.  There was no signal.

Outside the house, a large number of trucks had blocked up the road and the closer inspection showed they were here to remove an old pole.

The only problem was our internet provider was still using it.

I imagine what happened was simple.  The power technicians or someone else moved the cable to the new pole.

It sounds simple, but I guess it wasn’t.  End result. No internet, not via the cable outside.

We had the grandchildren staying over and whilst the spectacle of removing the old pole kept their attention for about half an hour, the signs of restlessness and boredom set in soon after.

And with no internet and no cable TV, it was just about the end of the world.  Unlike in my day as a child, we had to make our own entertainment, there was no TV or internet, it was a matter of using your imagination, it seems modern children are lost without the internet, a computer, or tv

My room needed cleaning, the library had about fifty new books to put on the shelves, and the existing books needed some rearrangement, so I put them to work.

It was either that or the garden which always needs work, but one job I can’t seem to work up any enthusiasm to do.

And at the end of the day, still no internet.

I think I’m starting to get serious withdrawal symptoms.

NaNoWriMo – Day 18 – Still No Internet

More time to stretch out on the newly cleared sofa in my writing room to consider the direction the work in progress is taking.

We’ve reached a point where the guilty now have to make a move. I’m not quite sure how I want to do this, but the questioning of suspects has made it quite clear, the person in charge has covered their tracks carefully.

Will it be the case that like all people who think they have all the bases covered, make one tiny mistake that will lead to their undoing.

Fortunately, I’m not up to that part of the story but it is occupying a large part of my thoughts.

NaNoWriMo – Day 17 – Coping without technology

There are no more surprises at least for today.

We have no internet, the power company came along and removed an old pole and that was the end of it.

It’s amazing what you can’t do when there’s no internet, and then all the things you said you would do one day if only you had the time.

This mornings word count accumulates quickly without the distractions so I had the afternoon to finally clean up my workspace.

Now I can’t find anything.

Going to church on Sunday

This is my least favored option for spending a Sunday morning, but having married a Catholic and agreeing to adopt Catholicism, it’s one of those things that has to be done on rare occasions, usually a child’s milestone.

Yes, we went through our children’s moments like baptism, first communion, and confirmation, or these days in a somewhat different order.  Then it came to the turn of our grandchildren and today the last child is making her first communion, and there will end our involvement till the last rites.

Hopefully.

Church to me doesn’t hold any real significance.  It doesn’t mean that I would debunk the idea of religion and I firmly believe that if anyone believes in God, then that’s their right.

And it seems there are a lot of believers.  I’m sitting in the church now and it is packed.  It might be that it’s a captive audience given that it’s a first communion for grade three students and others. but given the enthusiasm of the children involved, I’d say the church was about to get over a hundred new followers.

Of course, a lot depends on the enthusiasm and devoutness of the parents who may wish to spend their Sundays in a different manner, but I suspect there are many here who will continue their devoutness in some form or other.

As for me, sadly, I will continue to use the only day of the week it’s possible to sleep in.

NaNoWriMo – Day 16 – A twist I didn’t see coming

Yes.

I had worked out who the murderer was going to be.

Don’t you just hate it when the story unfolds in a different manner?  The current person tapped for the murder is looking very guilty, except for one piece of evidence that was not taken into account.

I can’t say what it is.

And I can’t tell you who the likely suspect is, because now I’m not quite sure myself.  I feel this is like a true life murder crime. plodding through the leads and clues one at a time.

Once again I’m writing a story that unfolds for me just as it would for the reader.

NaNoWriMo – Day 15 – Half way there

Yes, 15 days down and 15 days to go.

At this point my hand is starting to cramp from the toils of writing, yes, I’m one of those writers who often puts words to paper longhand.

Two weeks is a long time, but I think this sort of exercise is what’s needed if you want to write a novel every year, though this one is going to come out with more than 50,000 words.

I think there are about three more chapters to go to end part two, then I can get onto the big finale in part three.

It has turned out to be a bigger project than I originally thought, and I didn’t think I could stretch it to 50,000 words.  Now, I’m hoping to keep it to about 60,000.

Still, no need to get ahead of myself.  Murphy’s law may yet rear its ugly head.

Conversations with my cat – 18

20160903_010425

This is Chester, he’s lurking in the shadows.

This is near the front door, so I wonder if he’s waiting for someone, or keeping guard, or he’s spotted something outside.

The grandchildren will be here soon, and I haven’t told him they are paying a surprise visit.  He has a habit of disappearing the days they usually come.

We both hear a noise outside.

He goes into stealth mode.

Then I recognize the sound, of letters being shoved into the mailbox.

He shakes his head.  I think he was expecting a mouse.

I hear the back door rattle and the loud sounds of the grandchildren arriving.

He lifts his head, stands, and bolts.

That’s the fastest I’ve seen him move for a long time.

 

 

 

NaNoWriMo – Day 14 – I’m ahead of target so time for revision

Whenever I’m writing, especially when I’m working to a plan, things never quite go the way I’d originally envisaged.

You get so far, and an idea pops into your head, and then, thinking it will work well, often it requires a little extra in previously written work.

Of course, when also writing to a time constraint, that’s not always possible, so your desk, computer keyboard or monitor becomes a repository for endless yellow post-it notes reminding you of the plot holes to be fixed.

I have time, and today I will be fixing them.

I also suspect this might make my word count for the project exceed the required 50,000.

We shall see!

Waiting rooms, a great source of material to write about

Watching the doors that lead to the consulting rooms is about as exciting as watching pigeons standing on a window ledge.

But

When you have little else to do while waiting to see the doctor, it can take on new meaning, especially if you don’t want to be like 95% of the others waiting and be on their mobile phones.

What you basically have is a cross-section of people right in front of you, a virtual cornucopia of characters just waiting to stay in your next novel, of course with some minor adjustments.  It’s the actions and traits I’m looking for, and since it is a hospital, there’s bound to be some good ones.

It’s a steady drip of patients getting called, and it seems like more are arriving than being seen, and those that are being called have arrived and barely got to sit down, whilst a steady core has been waiting, and waiting, and waiting…

Everyone reacts differently to waiting.

A lady arrives, walking tentatively into the waiting area.  It’s reasonably full so the first thing she does is look for a spot where she doesn’t have to sit next to anyone else.  I’m the same, nothing worse if you sit next to a talker, and getting their life history.

Another sits, looking like they’re going to read, they brought a book with them, but it sits on her lap.  The phone comes out, a quick scan, then it remains in hand.  Is she expecting a call or text wishing her luck?  It’s not the oncology clinic so she doesn’t have cancer.  Hopefully.  The fact she brought a book tells me she’s been here before and knows a 9:00 appointment is rarely on time.

As we are discovering.

A couple arrives, maybe a mother and daughter, maybe a patient and her support person.  Both of them don’t look very well do it’s a toss-up who is there to see the doctor.

Next is a man who could easily pass as living on the street.  It’s probably an injustice to say so, but his appearance is compelling, and I’m not the only one.  He sits and the person next to him gets up, apparently looking for something, then moves subtly to another seat.  Someone else nearby wrinkles her nose.  Two others look in his direction and then whisper to each other.  No guesses what the subject is.

More arrive, fewer seats, some are called, but everyone notices, and avoids, the man.

The sign of the door where the stream of patients are going, says no entry staff only, and periodically a staff member comes striding out purposely, or sedately, clutching a piece of all important paper, the sign of someone who knows where they’re going, on an important mission.  Names are being called from this door and various other sections of the room, requiring you to keep one ear open.

It seems all hospitals are branches of the United Nations, medical staff, and particularly doctors, are recruited from all over the world, and it seems to be able to speak understandable English is not one of the mandatory requirements, and sometimes the person calling out the name, has a little difficulty with the pronunciation.

Perhaps like the UN, we need interpreters.  No, most of the names are recognizable until there is a foreign name that’s unpronounceable, or a person with English as a second language calls an English name.  It makes what could be an interminable wait into something more interesting.

And then there are the people who have names that are completely at odds with their nationality.  They are lucky enough to have the best of a number of cultures, and perhaps a deeper level of understanding where others do not.  I’m reminded never to judge a book by it’s cover.

When there is a lull in arrivals and call-ups, there’s the doctor in consult room 2.  He’s apparently the doctor with no patients and periodically he comes out to look in his pigeonhole, or just look over the patients waiting, and more importantly checking the door handle when not delivering printouts to the consulting room next door.

He’s a doctor with no patients, get my drift.  Well, that joke fell very flat, so, fortunately, he comes out, a piece of paper in hand, and calls a name.  His quiet period is over.  Someone else will have to look at the door handle.

But we’re still waiting, waiting.

It’s been an hour and four minutes, and a little frustrating.  Surely when you check-in they should give you an estimated waiting time, or better still how many patients there are before you.

I guess its time to join the rest and pick up the mobile phone.

The good news, I only got to type one word before my name was called.  By a person who could pronounce it correctly.

The doctor, well that’s another story.

Friday afternoons – where would you like to be?

It’s Friday afternoon and…

The expectation I once had a long time ago, and I suspect I’m not alone, has always been that if it ever became possible, Friday afternoons off were sacrosanct.

In a lifetime of working for others, Friday afternoons were the same as all the rest.  Finish at 5 or 6 and either go to the pub with workmates or go home.

Every now and then you’d take a sick day, but it’s a bit obvious to everyone that you’re just looking to have a long weekend.  Just hope your boss is not heading away at the same time and you awkwardly meet at the airport.

Yes, it does happen.

Of course, for those who seek to transition from worker to being master of your own destiny, ie become self-employed and are lucky enough to do so, you tell yourself you can make your own hours, work when you feel like it, and Fridays, well, they’re out of bounds.

Until reality sets in.

You still have Bill’s to pay, and work never presents itself quite at the times that you want, and any form of working more hospitable hours goes out the window.  That desire to improve family life?

For some, it has happened for some, but for the rest of us, well, the best of intentions always seem to go astray.

Now you don’t have a steady paycheck, you quickly realize that work does not necessarily turn up on your doorstep when you want it to, but when it’s available, and what starts out the be sure and steady, soon becomes steady without the surety then patchy because demand is market tuned.

A downturn in the market and suddenly your good intentions and desire for more money and a better life are out the window, and suddenly you’re working 7 days a week trying to make ends meet.

I’m sure there are more salient factors involved in making the decision to become a contractor rather than a ‘wage slave’, but it seems these days working on a Friday afternoon might not be so bad, rather than having nothing to do at all.

What am I doing this Friday afternoon?

Picking up the grandchildren from school.  You see, to get Friday afternoons off I had to wait till I retired.  But one thing I can tell you with a great deal of certainty, I will not be taking up golf anytime soon.  I have better things to do with my Friday afternoons.