Snoring? Or not

"I didn't disturb you too much last night, did I?" Keith enquired solicitously this morning. He has been suffering from a cold which has meant that the arms of Morpheus have not been all-encompassing for the past few nights.
"No," I said, "but you might want to work on NOT arguing with me when I tell you you are snoring. After all, I am the one who is awake at the time, so I KNOW whether you are snoring or not!"
He did have the grace to look slightly abashed...

Tough flowers

This bowl of pansies sitting in the front garden may look a bit weatherbeaten and past its best but it was given to me by a friend for my birthday back in August last year. Since then, it has been left to fend for itself and so it has. These flowers have survived an exceptionally cold winter, they have spent weeks covered in snow and frost but they still came up smiling.

It just goes to show, my version of 'tough love' gardening (ie stick the stuff out there and let it get on with it) pays off - sometimes, anyway.

What shall we do with a broken lightbulb?

What indeed. If you have been enticed into replacing your old bulbs with the new, low-energy bulbs, otherwise known as 'compact fluorescent lamps', then disposing of broken ones is going to be a problem, as it seems that these bulbs are regarded as far too dangerous to fall into the hands, or even the close vicinity of our garbage disposal operatives.
So, the all-powerful E.U. has decided in its wisdom that all households should henceforth use these lightbulbs which are filled with mercury and which, when they break, emit 'levels of toxic vapour up to 20 times higher than the safe guideline limit for an indoor area.' In fact, current advice is that, should one break in your house, the room should be evacuated immediately and it should be ventilated for 15 minutes. Let's hope it doesn't happen in mid-winter then. Furthermore, when disposing of the broken lightbulb, you are advised to wear protective gloves and seal the remnants in a plastic bag.
OK, so far so good. But then what do you do with it? Apparently, you get in your car and travel to your nearest 'special recycling bank' because councils don't deal with hazardous waste.
Not only that, but old style lightbulbs are disappearing off the shelves of our local stores faster than a cat being chased by Paddy, so it's a case of "You will do as we say, even though this item we are promoting is regarded as 'hazardous'".
Now one of my character flaws is that, as soon as I feel I am being forced to do something, I put all my efforts into doing the opposite, (This caused me a lot of problems during my formative years!) hence yesterday morning saw me scouring the internet and bulk buying a stock of old style lightbulbs for our use in years to come.
At least we will be able to see our hands in front of our faces, which is not always the case with the'compact fluorescent  lamps'. And we won't be having to deal with 'hazardous waste' although it's possible that we will end up languishing in the Tower of London with all the other 'martyrs' who dare to contravene E.U directives.
Bring it on!

3 French Hens

Well no, actually but two geese and a duck sitting on a wall as we went past on our walk this morning, followed by two hens just round the corner in the hedgerow. You never know what might cross your path here in north Wales and, no, it's not always sheep!

It's never easy taking photos with Paddy tugging at his lead in one hand and cameraphone in the other, so this is the best I could do, I'm afraid. Had I been any closer, we might have been having roast goose for dinner tonight.

Copper Wire

This arrived in my inbox this morning courtesy of TK's brother who lives in Australia, as you may guess!

COPPER WIRE
After having dug to a depth of 10 feet last year, British scientists found traces of copper wire dating back 200 years and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 150 years ago. Not to be outdone by the Brit's, in the weeks that followed, an American archaeologist dug to a depth of 20 feet, and shortly after, a story published in the New York Times: "American archaeologists, finding traces of 250-year-old copper wire, have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network 50 years earlier than the British". One week later, the state’s Dept of Minerals and Energy in Western Australia , reported the following: "After digging as deep as 30 feet in Western Australia ’s Pilbara region, Jack Lucknow, a self-taught archaeologist, reported that he found absolutely nothing. Jack has therefore concluded that 250 years ago, Australia had already gone wireless."
Just makes you bloody proud to be Australian.

When Teenage meets Old Age

These days, I often trawl through the TV channels and, if there is anything I think may be interesting, I record it or catch it on 'Replay' and one of my 'finds' was When Teenage meets Old Age. For anyone who hasn't seen it, four young people volunteer to work in a retirement village, where they encounter a range of people, ranging from those who are fairly independent to those needing a high degree of support. The series seems to have been sparked by the growing trend for the elderly to live in isolation from the rest of  society and, in particular, from the young. I was struck by the statistic that, in the seventies, one in three of the elderly lived with their family, whereas now, it is closer to one in ten. Retirement villages provide a safe and secure environment for older people but it is often at the expense of contact with the rest of society. Similarly, the fact that the young have less contact with the old has led to a increasing degree of suspicion and disregard on their part.
The old think young people are noisy, selfish, ill-mannered and are often afraid of them, while youngsters view old people as unimportant, judgemental and a waste of space.
Obviously the makers of this series had their own agenda and will have been selective in the footage they used but, looking beyond this, there is evidence of seeds of genuine respect, understanding and affection between the two groups. Of course, they have their good and bad moments, but it is heartening to see that it is possible to build bridges between these two age groups. They just need to get to know each other and the more this experiment can be replicated, the greater the opportunities for each to learn from the other.
And that can only benefit both.

Voting and Royal Mail

It's a misty day here today, quite unlike the lovely sunny promise of approaching spring that yesterday brought. Paddy and I have been out to cast our vote (OK, I cast my vote!) on possible increase in Wales' law-making powers, which you can read more about here. Someone commented that the expected turnout will only be about 35%, which, given the dearth of information and campaigning, round here at least, is not surprising.
On then to go head to head with Royal Mail on Dad's behalf, or at least to try to.
When I was there last Friday, a parcel should have been delivered but, as we were out living it up at the local garden centre, it was taken away again and a "Sorry you were out" card left instead, in spite of the fact that, when he placed the order, he stipulated that it could be left in the porch, but that, as it turns out, is a minor detail. Friday afternoon, when we got back, the local office was closed for the day; well it was 2pm after all, so Dad completed an online application for redelivery and received an email, eventually, to say that his parcel would be redelivered on Monday.
You can probably write the rest of this yourselves, I know!
Since then, he has tried, and failed, to speak to any living person connected with Royal Mail and is still waiting for the parcel, but he has managed to send a complaint email and received an automated reply that it would be dealt with in 5 days. By then, the tea and coffee in the parcel will no doubt be sprouting leaves.
Today, I decided to have a go. When you ring the 0845 number, you have the pleasure of hearing, at your expense, that it would be much easier for everyone if you came and collected your parcel yourself or you could arrange a redelivery online. They have obviously decided that, on no account, will you be allowed to speak to someone on the number dialled because, after telling you of the 'high call volume' they are experiencing (I'm not surprised), they allow you to leave a message and then cut you off.
So, I decided to do another online application, which took three attempts because the 13 digit number on the card was evidently not the one they wanted, but I eventually left that space blank and was then allowed to complete the form.
The earliest they would agree to deliver was Saturday (Why not tomorrow?) so we will wait... without holding our breath.
"You sound a bit fed up," said Dad when I was speaking to him on the phone.
What I am really fed up about is the inescapable fact that customer service generally is going down the pan. We are inundated with assurances about 'customer care' and 'your custom is important to us' but all that really means is 'We are out to make as much money out of you as we can and if you don't like our service, tough!'
The country is going to hell in a handcart and if that sentiment puts me in the 'grumpy old' category, so be it.
We need a revolution, folks!