Month: April 2019

Life In The Slow Lane

~ beetleypete ~ 85 Comments

My recent accident is still causing me considerable pain in my back. I find myself having to rethink the way I go about my everyday life, as forgetting for a second will be rewarded with stabs of pain that leave me shouting and swearing like a very different person indeed.

Sitting is good, when adequately propped up, or in a firm chair. The office chair I use to work on the blog is very comfortable, as long as I remember not to try to push it back with my legs. Getting out of it is not so easy, and requires a lot of forward planning. Gentle movements, gritted teeth, followed by some holding of breath and a good push down on the desk.

Sitting on the sofa to watch TV is manageable, with at least two small cushions in the small of my back, and no possibility of having my legs raised at the same time. But too long in one position is asking for trouble, so ‘walk breaks’ have to feature. They involve walking slowly into the kitchen and back, a short distance that now feels more like a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.

I have become much more sympathetic to people who are much older, with such reduced mobility. I seem to have the gait of someone approaching 99 years old, and trying not to ‘shuffle’ takes considerable effort. A trip to use the toilet has to be given some thought, and certainly not left until that ‘I have to go’ moment. And anyone calling at the door has to be asked to be patient, by shouting at them through the glass panel.

I went out on Friday as someone reasonably fit and well for my age, and returned on Sunday as someone I hardly recognise. Sleeping is something to be dreaded. The memory foam mattress that was always a delight to sink into has now become my enemy. Unable to adjust my situation in bed, or turn over, I remain trapped in whatever position I managed to crawl into, until I am woken up by the sharp pains that tell me it is time to take more tablets.

I did manage to take Ollie for his walk yesterday. After sitting in a bath of very hot water for some time, I felt I could attempt a shorter version of Ollie’s usual three-hour trek. With the help of my large dog-walking stick to push down on, I ventured out onto Beetley Meadows with my excited dog, and was happy enough to be out for ninety minutes, until the pain advised me to return home. On the way back, I discovered that carelessly stepping off even a low kerb felt like the equivalent of falling four floors onto concrete.

Coughing and sneezing have become devils to endure. The feeling of an imminent sneeze gets me in something of a panic, as I prepare for it by supporting my back with my hand. A sudden bout of coughing leaves me feeling like I have done ten rounds with a heavyweight champion, and completing a deep breath without wincing feels like an achievement.

No doubt it will heal in time. If I was twenty years younger, I would have probably shrugged it off, and gone to work as normal. But healing slows with age, unfortunately, so I have to learn how to move like a tortoise for a while.

Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives -#NewSeries- Pot Luck and Do You Trust Me??

~ beetleypete ~ 6 Comments

Let the lovely Sally dip into your archives and promote your blog. You won’t find a better audience anywhere. Check out the original post, and leave Sally a comment giving her your permission to repost your old stuff!

Holidays and Travel: Tunisia 1975

~ beetleypete ~ 20 Comments

Last week, Tunisia got a mention on Cindy Bruchman’s blog. She wondered why it might be a holiday destination. That reminded me of this old post from 2013, which I think only Jude and Eddy have seen before.

beetleypete's avatarbeetleypete

This looks like a new category, but it is not.  Nine categories is sufficient for one blog I believe, so this will be posted in Nostalgia.

Between the ages of 11 and 23, I had been abroad. I had been on school trips to France, to Calais and Paris. I had later ventured further south, to the Atlantic coast of France near Biarritz, and on another occasion, to Perpignan. Including a short visit to Figueras, in northern Spain, that was the sum total of my travels. This had all been done by ferry boat, then train, or in some sort of motor vehicle. I had never been in an aeroplane up to that point.

By early 1975 , I was seeing the girl who would later become my first wife. As her father had always worked for Thomas Cook, she was unusually well-travelled, and there were few places she had…

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Ollie’s mini-break

~ beetleypete ~ 87 Comments

I got back at 4:30 today. I had been on a visit to see my cousin and her family, around a two hour drive south of here, in Essex.

It was quite an eventful weekend, especially for Ollie, and in a special way for me too. We arrived to find out that my cousin had recently acquired another dog to keep Dennis, her King Charles Spaniel dog company. She is an 8 year-old Red King Charles, rescued from a puppy-breeding farm. She was very friendly, and took an immediate liking to Ollie. Fortunately, she had been neutered after years of producing pups, so her flirtations with my dog were unlikely to come to anything. Besides, Libby is only a quarter of his size.

After catching up since my last visit in December 2018, I was delighted when my cousin’s daughter brought baby Violet to see me, and to collect the gifts I had brought for her. Some of you may recall that she was named after my late mother, something that touched me greatly. At just five months, little Violet is alert, has great skills beyond her age, and is developing into a really happy and delightful baby. I had a good long hold of her, and couldn’t help but reflect how much my Mum would have been overjoyed to know she bears her name. Ollie was not troubled with jealousy where she was concerned, as he had his hands full dealing with Libby, and trying to impress a very lethargic Dennis.

After Violet was taken home, we relaxed to enjoy an evening meal in the company of my cousin’s son and his girlfriend, who both live in the house. Ollie was still ‘dancing’ with Libby, and hardly had any rest at all, despite us taking the dogs for a long walk before dinner. Once dinner was over, we chatted and listened to music, and I became sleepy, after a long day. When it was time for bed, Ollie was excited to follow me upstairs, even though his bed had been set up in the living room. As I started to walk up the staircase, he ignored his instructions to stay on his bed downstairs, and decided he would rush up the stairs ahead of me, with no warning.

The first thing I knew was that my dog was between my legs as I lifted my foot onto the next stair. The next thing I was aware of was lying on my back like an upturned turtle, on the hard flooring in the hallway. I had fallen down three stairs into the hallway, landing heavily on my back, unlucky not to get a rebound injury to my skull. Ollie was barking loudly, apparently upset by my fall, so both the Spaniels joined in. Then my cousin came to see what the fuss was about , and her son appeared from the kitchen to help. I was eventually assisted back upstairs, with Ollie in some disgrace, ordered to his bed in the living room. I remember thinking that my back hurt a little bit, and my right hand was painful. Then I went to sleep.

I woke in the early hours, in great pain and discomfort. My back was in agony, and my right hand throbbing as if trapped in a vice. It took me almost fifteen minutes to get out of bed, to be able to use the toilet.  By the time I should have been getting up, I was in agony with my back, and spent a very long time getting ready to be able to go downstairs. There was a large visible wound on my hand too, where I had tried to grab the bannisters, and scuffed my hand on the woodwork instead. After creeping downstairs very gingerly, I was just about able to sit on a hard chair to drink some tea, and eat breakfast.

I felt so sorry for my cousin, as she had planned a day of various activities for us on Saturday, involving the dogs. As well as the inclement weather, my fall had ruled that out. I was just about able to accompany her on a local dog-walk, shuffling behind like a 95 year-old man! The evening was quiet, with me stuck in an armchair, watching as Ollie and Libby continued their fruitless courtship. We had a Chinese take-away meal, and watched a film on TV. I was able to get a few hours sleep, making sure Ollie stayed in the living room, as I walked slowly upstairs. Violet was brought to see me again this morning, which was a delight, and I managed a better walk with the dogs, before leaving Essex for home. My back still hurts, but is manageable, and the drive home was very easy, which was fortunate.

Ollie is back with his familiar surroundings, and favourite toys. No Libby to play with, nor Dennis to impress, but he settled back into his routine as expected.

And of course he has no idea that his desire to beat me upstairs might well have killed me.

Away from the Blog.

~ beetleypete ~ 40 Comments

Just to let everyone know, I will be away from the blog for a few days. I won’t be answering many comments, or publishing any posts over the weekend.

But it’s alright, I’m not dead! (Yet)

See you again on Sunday night, or maybe Monday.

Best wishes to all, Pete. 🙂

Photo Prompt Story: By The Tiled Wall

~ beetleypete ~ 44 Comments

This is a fictional short story, in 1280 words.
It was prompted by this photo, taken by Sue Judd. https://suejudd.com/

Felipe was setting up the tables outside the cafe, as he had done every morning for the last six years. He could see that he was there again, the old man huddled on the steps beneath the tiled wall. The first time, Felipe had approached him, asked if he was unwell, offered him a coffee, or a glass of water. But the sad eyes looked up, and a heavily-veined hand had just waved him away without a word of reply.

Asking around some of the customers, he learned that he had sat there every day, for as long as everyone could remember. But even in a community rife with gossip and idle chatter, nobody knew anything about him. Or if they did, they were not saying. When tourists arrived, bursting like bubbles from the doors of coaches, they flocked to take photos of the famous tiles. But every one of those photos would also include the crestfallen old man, as he always declined to move away.

Occasionally they actually pulled at his hands, trying to get him to move. Some even offered him small bribes, so he wouldn’t be in their souvenir photo. But he never moved, and waved away their objections as he returned to his characteristic slump beneath the tiles. Felipe had never seen him eat or drink. He sat in the spot from first light until dark, not even leaving to use a toilet, apparently. It didn’t seem possible that this elderly man could survive all day without so much as a drop of water, especially in the summer months. But he did, that was undeniable.

Over the years, Felipe found his curiosity getting the better of him. How could he sit there like that, in all weathers? How did it not make him ill? Surely it must be boring in the extreme too? But most of all, why? Why would someone spend their daily life sitting aimlessly in one spot, with no good reason for doing so? That morning, once the tables were arranged, and the umbrellas raised, the young waiter resolved to try again, to find out all he could about the old man, and his reason for sitting there.

But the day was unusually busy. Felipe was run off his feet, with Gaspar the owner in a bad mood, and customers complaining about the delays in getting their food. Tips were scarce, and when Felipe finally got a break, he sat outside the back door, smoking a cigarette and enjoying the kick of caffeine from a very strong coffee. But it wasn’t long before Gaspar was harassing him to get back to his work, and clear away the outside tables at the front on the square.

As he piled cups and glasses onto a large tray, Felipe glanced across to the tiled wall. The old man was gone. For the first time in all those years, his spot on the stairs was empty during daylight hours. He checked his watch, not even three in the afternoon. Far too early for him to have left already. He spotted the road-sweeper, standing out in his bright orange overalls. Walking across to him , he spoke politely. “Excuse me sir, did you see the old man leave? You know the one, he sits on the steps under the tiles?” The sweeper raised his eyebrows, ash falling from the hand-rolled cigarette between his lips as he replied. “Oh him, yeah. An ambulance took him away about fifteen minutes ago. He wasn’t moving much, and they had him on a stretcher.” Felipe was shocked at the news. “Do you happen to know where they took him, sir?” With a shrug, the sweeper replied. “They didn’t say, but I suppose it would be the nearest hospital. That would be the São José Hospital, do you know it? Filipe nodded, adding “Thank you sir”, as he turned back to the cafe.

Gaspar was less than pleased when his waiter told him he was taking some time owed to him, and leaving early. Filipe got a tram to a stop close to the hospital, and walked the short distance to the Emergency Department. At the reception desk, it suddenly occurred to him that he knew no details about the old man, and as the receptionist looked up, he wondered what to say. “I have come to ask about one of my friends, a regular customer. I don’t know his name, but he is old, with lots of white hair. He was dressed all in black, but there was a grey and red pattern on the top he was wearing. An ambulance took him away from the square, close to the famous tiled wall”. The lady eyed him suspiciously for a moment, not taken in by his white lie. “Take a seat young man, and I will get a nurse to speak to you.” Felipe nodded, and walked over to stand in the corner. He wanted her to be able to see him, so she didn’t forget.

Almost thirty minutes later, a nurse appeared. She looked impatient as she scanned around the waiting room. A young woman with a lot to do, who didn’t need such interruptions. The receptionist nodded at him, and she walked over. Her tone was not unfriendly, just professional. “You were asking about Mister Cubas? Follow me, and I will take you to him”. She seemed unconcerned that Felipe wasn’t a relative, and he followed as she walked very quickly along a corridor to a small room with an open door. She pointed into the room, where the old man was lying still, under a sheet. “I must ask you to be quiet, and not agitate him. He has had a massive stroke, and we fear he may not last the night”. Felipe nodded. “Thank you miss, but tell me, how did you know his name?” As she hurried off to her next task, she spoke without turning. “From the letter in his pocket”.

It seemed to him that the nurse had been right. The old man looked gravely ill. His face was grey in colour, and the oxygen hissing through the mask seemed to be doing little to help him. On a small unit next to the bed was a crumpled letter. The envelope had a just a name on it, written in tiny neat handwriting. There was no address or stamp, suggesting it had been hand delivered. ‘Raul Cubas’. So that was his name. Felipe looked across at the man again. His eyes were shut tight, his breathing sounding little more than a faint rasp. Feeling guilty, he opened the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper. As he read, he felt he was intruding, but the need to know overwhelmed his manners.

‘My darling Raul. It is as we feared. I am with child, and cannot possibly tell my parents.
We must leave the city, as you suggested, and start a new life far away.
I will come to you tomorrow morning, and meet you by the tiled wall, where we first kissed.
Then we will turn our backs on this district, and be together always.
If I am late, I beg you to wait for me, my dearest, as you know I would always wait for you.
My love forever, your Serafina’.

At the top of the letter was the date. The 12th of October, 1966.

Felipe returned the letter to its envelope, and left the room quietly, a lump building in his throat. Now he knew what the old man had been doing for the last fifty-three years.

He had been waiting for Serafina.

More on books, and reading.

~ beetleypete ~ 48 Comments

It would appear that my decision to get the Kindle Fire Tablet was a good one, at least in respect of reading books. After barely managing to read one or two books a year for over a decade, I have finished no less than fourteen books since January. Many have been reviewed on my blog too, adding an extra benefit to my revitalised reading.

After overcoming the early frustrations of reading electronically, I can now see the benefits, particularly in bed. The Tablet has a ‘shading’ feature, so I can have the light from the screen and text reduced and it is not so harsh. It is also easy to hold or to prop up on a fold of duvet. I used to mainly read in bed at one time, and now I find myself retiring early, keen to get on with my current book. Without any distractions or noise, I manage to read a lot of chapters in bed, though I have restricted myself to a two-hour maximum, in the hope of avoiding excessive screen time for my eyes.

The main thing is that after such a long break, I am reading again, and enjoying it immensely.

Once I have worked through the downloaded e-books, I might just start on the piles of hardbacks filling the shelves in the office room. 🙂

Book Review: The Dry

~ beetleypete ~ 25 Comments

This murder mystery by Jane Harper won the Sunday Times Crime Book Of The Month in 2017, and it is easy to see why. It thrusts the reader straight to the heart of small-town life in Australia, during one of the longest droughts and heatwaves known in that country. And into a community that has been outraged by a terrible triple murder.

There is no slow build up, as Melbourne detective Aaron Falk returns to his old home town for the funeral of a friend, exposing old wounds from his past, and revisiting old enemies and friends alike. The arid heat of the outback literally glows off of the page, as we follow his investigation into the death of his former friend, and the unsolved mystery from his own teenage years too.

A family has been killed, and the regional police have written off the case as a murder/suicide, by a struggling farmer. But that local farmer was once Falk’s best friend, and with the help of the local country cop, he sets about investigating the background to the case, stirring up a hornet’s nest of resentment and bitter memories along the way. Falk is no swaggering hero, and he also has to overcome the prejudices of narrow-minded small town people as he tries to solve the case.

Much of the story is told in flashback, but it is never confusing to the reader. The descriptions of the characters and the harsh environment are so well done, I could almost picture myself walking around with Falk, as he views the dilapidation of the town he once called home. Lots of potential suspects are on offer, with the usual swings and roundabouts accompanying a murder investigation with witnesses unwilling to help, and scant evidence to go on. And with his efforts frustrated at every turn, Falk is tempted to abandon it all, and return to his police role in the big city.

But he doesn’t of course, and his doggedness eventually wins through.

This book is 381 pages long, and was remarkably cheap on Kindle when I bought it for just £1. I found myself staying up late to read it, and walking around with my Kindle during the day to occasionally catch another chapter. As a result, I finished it in two days, not bad going for me. So it is very good, make no mistake about that, and I recommend it to anyone who enjoys crime thrillers and murder mysteries.

However, I did guess the identity of the killer, and before the halfway point too.

But maybe I have just watched too many films…

Here’s a link.

Brave Browser

~ beetleypete ~ 37 Comments

Found by chance on a Twitter link, is the Brave browser.

Ads- Blocked.
Trackers- Blocked.
Speed- Increased.
Passwords- Saved.
Bookmarks- Saved.
Privacy- Complete.
All mail contacts and settings- Saved.
All blog site content and settings- saved.

This downloads in record time, and easily saves whatever you choose from the menu. It is fast, fuss-free, and ad-free too.
(If you want, you can opt-in to the ads, but there is no compulsion)

Free of charge to use, quicker than Chrome, Microsoft, or Firefox. I am excited by this, so far. Might be worth a try, as it really does block trackers and ads.

Some minor issues with displaying WP notifications, and it doesn’t appear to let me just ‘like’ posts. But otherwise, no obvious glitches. The screening can be turned off for each individual site as required, so that will stop any WP issues, I’m sure.

Here is a link to check it out. I get nothing from this, I promise you.
It’s just a tip for my readers.
https://brave.com/browser-option-a-uk_wbi954

SHOULD I HAVE BINNED THIS?

~ beetleypete ~ 13 Comments

I am reblogging this from Felicity’s site as a warning. If you ever think about doing a blog interview, read this first.

theshammuramat's avatartheshammuramat

garbage-4090382_1920Two years ago I interviewed a well known author who objected to the verbatim written form of their verbal statements. It put me in a difficult position since I did not agree with them about their representation of the veracity of the interview.

 Looking back two years later at our emails I see we were arguing over what the author thought they had said, and what in fact I had written down, after I had carefully reviewed and transcribed our conversation.

As a result and as they requested I agreed not to publish the verbatim Q & A..

 I was in a difficult position however since I had spent a lot of time preparing for the interview, and also on conducting it, thus I decided to use some of the material I had collected.  I took it and wrote a comparative critique between the two of us drawing parallel…

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