Perspective

Mr H's (and my) 17 year old niece, who lost her mother to cancer aged 48 a couple of years ago, recently dumped her boyfriend "because he is horrible to his mother. I can't be with someone who doesn't treat his mother well".

My mother often drives me to distraction. She imagines conversations, she dwells on things (real or imagined) for weeks, she says 'I can't' when she can.  I know it's not her fault that the neurons are aging, but sometimes I dread her phoning, having imagined I said or promised something, or to ask me about a thought that's been worrying her. Some days she's got her old spark back and is on the up, others she's lost and vulnerable, and I find it sad and difficult.

Our niece is amazing; she is strong, beautiful and funny (just like her mother), she and her brother are a real inspiration. 

When I'm struggling with my parents getting older, feeling impatient with Mum and worrying about what's going to happen in the future, I have to remind myself that others wish with all their hearts that they had both parents to worry about...

Fiddle-de-dee

I just made some stuff up on my fiddle.

I can't really read music any more. Well I can... slowly.. and painfully.. so that what comes out sounds awful.

But I do have a good ear, so making up Celtic-type fiddle-y tunes suits me just fine.  

I guess I won't be playing The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba again any time soon...

Past and Future

I made this rug for Mr H well before we were married so it's getting on for 25 years old. The two things that defined him for me were his music and his old car(s).  The rug went with him to Scotland, and it is now beside his bed back at home.

When I looked at it today, while he was outside working on the Mole, it occurred to me that we have gone full circle.   Not that I am making rugs for him again, but that we have re-discovered an enthusiasm for old cars (I know that this is in no small part helped by his new job surrounded by classic cars and enthusiasts!).  

Twenty years ago when we lived classic cars, things were different. The roads were a lot quieter, parts were easier to come by whereas now the local motorist shop doesn't know what you're talking about. Additives or new engine parts are needed to run on modern fuels.   

Also, we are older, wiser and more mortal. Driving a small, 44 year old car regularly is going to take a bit of getting used to, especially for me; it will take a while for me to beat the feeling of vulnerability. 

It made me smile today though, and I vacuumed the rug and it still looks good as new,

Blogging and The Mole

Mr H and I were discussing blogging last night, and how one has to be consistent to get a consistent readership and responses.

When I started it properly in 2010, when I had a lot of time on my hands, that was no problem. Lots to say, lots of time to say it.  Now that I'm back at work, studying and have Mr H home to distract me, I don't find it so easy.

I often think of things to blog about while I'm walking or cycling home, but have forgotten it by the time I get my computer out (yes, yes a sign of old age!).  Or nothing interesting enters my head... that's probably not true but it isn't things I can put into words.  I did decide to make more of an effort though, and if it's not intensely thought provoking or amusing then so be it ;-)

***

We just got the Hillman Imp Super (the Mole) back from hospital, with new head gasket, starter motor, thermostat and a few other bits and pieces.  The MOT runs out today so Mr H went to work in it before we have to settle down to sort out the bits that need fixing. I had to smile as I watched their diminutive form trundling off up the road!

We're more important than you

Whenever there is news of an air crash, or something happening on a cruise ship, or any other terrible disaster, the News will report that "there were 5 Britons aboard" or "on which there were no Britons".  

Who cares?

People are people.

People died or suffered in some way.  Why should it matter whether they were British or not?  (and let's not get into the discussion about what constitutes 'British' or we'll be here all night).

It's as if the British press think that the world consists of Important British People and Everyone Else (of lesser importance).  Are we supposed to feel more sorry if Britons were killed?  or think "Oh, that's ok then" if none were?

Do other countries do the same or is it us?

Fiddlin'

It's official, my fiddle is definitely a fiddle and not a violin:  I showed it a sonata and it said 'nah'.  Then I introduced it to Alison Krauss and it said 'oh yes!'.

Control freak?

I look at my colleague's desk next to mine, and how she is pinned in by piles of old paper, mugs, files, various office staplers etc., nail polish remover (!), boxes of... not sure what, and generally just STUFF.  I can't understand how it doesn' drive her nuts working in that environment (I have another colleague who is even worse, but I don't have to see it for 8 hours a day so I will leave that one out of it, for now).



I want to pick up the largest pile of paper, most of which probably hasn't been relevant for about a year, and go through it and chuck most of it out.

Picture from this article

Now Mr H will say that I am not the tidiest person in the world, but I do fairly regularly go through stuff on the table and either file it or chuck it, and my office desk is really tidy as we don't produce much paperwork in here these days.

So now my colleague has left work early, and my fingers are ITCHING to clear up her desk (actually to put the entire contents in the bin, if I'm honest). 

What does that say about me, psychologists!?  (or them, for that matter)

Bad business acumen

I bought a violin last week.  It kind of came upon me all of a sudden like.

I used to play the violin when I was a teenager, I don't remember enjoying it much but was evidently good enough to pass Grade 6.  I never had the natural flair that my brother had with music though so didn't carry on; and my niece (who has inherited her father's natural flair) inherited my grandmother's violin from me.

I can't remember why now, but recently I suddenly decided that I wanted to play fiddle (rather than classical violin) so borrowed a friend's violin.  It hadn't been played for 25 years and was in dire need of new strings, and wasn't a particularly good instrument (she didn't risk her best one on me!).  But I found that the sound I made was not as awful as I thought, and ended up bidding for and winning an old violin on eBay.

When it arrived, it turned out to be 3/4 sized.  Oh....  First I thought I'd send it back but then it looked up at me and pleaded to be kept and loved.  Things tend to do that to me and Mr H, it's a nuisance but we can't help it.  So, having decided that I'd still be able to play it, and negotiated a partial refund on the price because it was advertised as full size, I decided to take it to a local violin lady to look at, because it looked to me as though the bridge and strings were set up wrong.

Mine is the one on the right

She is an esteemed expert in her field (according the website), but when we met her she was the most inconsiderate, uncaring person, and seemed to be only just holding herself back from being downright rude. She didn't listen to what I said about why I had a 3/4 size instrument instead of a full size one.  She then quoted me a ridiculous price for sorting it out but obviously didn't think it was worth it, she was the sort of person who would completely put me off trying to play. Mr H and I both took an instant dislike to her and we were there about 5 minutes before leaving with a polite "I'll think about it", knowing very well we wouldn't be back.

Mr H then suggested asking the chap who he sometimes goes to for guitars and associated bits and pieces.  "Oh yes," he said, "I can sort that out for you no problem."  No tut-tutting that it was too small for me or looking at me as if I couldn't possibly have ever played the violin.  We discussed what was needed and how much it would be, I left it with him and I should have it back next week (I'd better warn the neighbours....).

Sometimes being a long-time 'expert' doesn't get you the business, however superior you believe yourself to be.  If you piss off the customer, your credentials don't matter a bit!