If you can't beat them laugh at them

 

Since sleep is once more evading my grasp it seemed a good time to have yet another moan about the plague of scammers trying to rob us of our hard-earned cash. 

For the last 2 or 3 weeks I have been beset with daily and sometimes twice-daily calls from BT and Amazon.

Both sets of fake callers have a  similar technique, beginning with "your BT Broadband will be discontinued from 9.00am to,morrow, Or, Your Amazon account will withdraw the amount of £79 from your account tomorrow".

They then say if I wish to prevent this happening I should press 1 ....

Needless to say they are both automated calls so no reply is possible, so what I now do is say (to no-0ne) "Good luck with that" and then leave the phone off the base and walk away.

I know this will only result in their losing a very small amount of money but it gives me a small malicious gleam of satisfaction.

You would think they would be bright enough to work out that if they get nowhere after the first twenty or thirty calls they are never going to do so, but apparently they can afford to go on phoning endlessly, leaving me with the hope that I can at least outlive them! 

Ancient Ruins

Once again Google in its wisdom has decided to make access to my blog even more difficult than it was before, resulting in a very strange format.  But so be it.  

This is my third attempt to blog in a week and the first time I have succeded in getting anything in print.

My theme was to illustrate the similarity between one of the crumbling walls of St Mary's and my own ancient frame.

For both of us papering over the cracks is no longer effective and while the church is at least beginning to obtain the necessary funds to do a good repair, my own repairs are long past having any real value. 

The result will, in time, be a beautifully restored 12th/13th Century grade 1 listed building and a handful of dust. 

This is exactly the way it should be but, seeing (usually accidently) my reflection in a mirror, I find it hard to recognise my present appearance when in my mind I am still 35. 

This awful year with the loss of relatives friends and members of my (social) circle, has been and still is something of an endurance test.

Normally there would be the wonderful prospect of learning practising and singing all the lovely Christmas music, with a welcome rest afterwards to look forward to. 

This year every forseeable day will be exactly the same as the rest of the year has been.

Living alone has its merits but this year has illustrated poignantly and vividly just how much the company of others matters.

Let's hope and pray that the good news about the various vaccines will prove to be the means of all of us beginning to live our lives again.

This old ruin should be good for another decade or so with luck.

 

The Blues

 I like the above picture of St Mary's because it reflects perfectly how I feel about my "2nd home".  The last time I saw it was Sunday 15th March and it looks as though it may well be 15th of next March before I see it again. 

Hopes of a national/international triumph over the virus are fading fast as numbers of infections once more rise at an alarming rate world-wide.

Yet still some stupid people are risking their own and everyone else's lives with careless selfish behaviours which are endangering everyone they come into contact with.

However unwelcome the idea of another total lock-down may be, it is beginning to look more and more likely to happen.

For those of us still being shopped for or suported by neighbours friends or relatives or even more usually, volunteers, there seems no end in sight to the massive debt we owe all those wonderful people.

How, or when we may be able to repay this debt is quite a major concern for many of us, while also being aware that the longer this goes on the more likely it is that some, probably most people will begin to suffer from altruism fatigue. 

In the first rush of genuine concern and warmth of feeling many people produced amazing feats of generosity and kindness, but it would be unreasonable to expect the outpouring of good will to last indefinitely. 

We are all, after all human.

I am still offering prayers of thankfulness for all who are keeping me alive, but am also only too aware that expecting such angelic behaviour to continue for ever is asking far too much.

I wonder if anyone has factored in to the statistics the fact that at some stage the entire voluntary support system is likely to collapse. 

God bless the volunteers.

Octember

 One of the many strange affects of this pandemic is the way one day merges into another seamlessly, so that most of us who are in "hibernation" not only do not know what day it is but often which month we are in.  

At first this worried me, but now nearly seven months since I ventured out into the real world it is no longer a matter of concern.

Soon, as it becomes darker and the days shorter it will no longer matter whether it is day or night.

Like many of us I have learned a new way of using my days/nights and find that in my case it is better to do what needs doing as soon as it appears necessary, or with the switch of a button the monster in the corner otherwise known as the TV will rule all my waking hours.

Yes I still feed the birds and record their daily appearance in my garden for my BTO records, and I still occasionally walk out and dead-head roses and other shrubs.

I walk to the post-box (all of a quarter of a mile) and back and consider my exercise for the day to be complete. 

A phone call from a friend or even the window cleaner has become a major 'happening' filling my day with good feelings, while the silent days merely cause hollow echoes of a previous life.

Since the only outing I now can look forward to is the weekly shop courtesy of my kind and lovely neighbours, I find it increasingly difficult to imagine a time when (hopefully) there will be a church, and a town and library and other wonderful things to enjoy.

Worst of all, is the suspicion that I may now have become accustomed to isolation.

If anybody has a storecupboard full of motivation will you please send me some, by carrier pigeon (suitably masked of course).

A Little Night Musing

Once again I find myself sleepless and with nothing much on my mind of any interest to anyone, so of course I felt bound to share it with the rest of the world.

The photograph above of the view from St Mary's south door down to the gate is, I think , a particularly atmospheric one.

It has an almost Dickensian feel and I loved it so much that I stole it from our newsletter.  I don't know who took it but they obviously have a sense of drama almost as well developed as mine.

A more compelling reason for using it is to remind me that it is nearly six months since I last set foot in St M's.

Although I greatly value the zoomed service on Sunday, it is a very poor substitute for actually being there, ensconced with the rest of the choir in the chancel and able to sing and take part whole-heartedly.

They have started to hold services again, but with only a very few (30) in the congregation and of course with no 'live' choir, and I can't help wondering if and when that will be replaced with the real thing.

Some people who can get to the church on foot cannot understand why I and many others are not even contemplating getting there by public transport (if any), or by taxi, but so far I haven't dared to risk  any such means.

The virus, I fear, will be with us for a very long time and I'm trying very hard not to feel cheated of my one real pleasure.

Real life these days for me and many thousands like me is a poor imitation of our previous one.

At present I go shopping with a neighbour and that is it.  Once a week and no other jaunts.  Sometimes it feels like a bad dream, but this is apparently the way life has to be lived for the forseeable future.

I apologise if this is a miserable epistle but sadly that's how I feel at present.  My sense of humour appears to have packed its bags and departed.  Can't say I blame it.

Forty Years On

 Sorry about the lay-out Google has changed access to everything.

Yesterday was my eldest brother's funeral some of which I was able to access by zoom.  Not in any way perfect but better than nothing.   

Yesterday was also the 11th anniversary of my husband's funeral, so it was yet another August coincidence. 

Today is the 40th anniversary of the day we moved here into this house, our first and only 'owned' home.

The 28th August was not only my parent's wedding anniversary but also the day John and I met for the first time, having previously only had telephone contact.

The next day, 29th August was John's birthday.

Just to add piquancy to the list John died on the 11th August (and so by an even more bizarre  chance so did his son) two weeks ago.

My mother's birthday was on the 12th August, a fact on which my father always commented "the beginning of grouse shooting".

So one way and another this 4oth Anniversary is over-full of things to remember. Good and bad.

I'm sure the next 40 years will also be packed with odd facts and councidences but not mine of course. 

Joy in Small Things

This morning after the on-line service a friend from the choir came round to see me, and for the first time since 16th March I let her in.

She came to bring me a card from her and the family and her personal condolences on the loss of my brother 9 days ago.

I wrote in my previous blog how I felt about loss during this pandemic but didn't mention the extra burden of not being able to talk about grief to anyone.

Just having a friend face to face (suitably distanced) made such a huge difference that by the time she left - cup of tea and one and a half hour's chat later - I felt as though someone had rolled the clouds back and let the sun shine again.

Being a stoic and not making a big fuss over things are seriously over rated behaviours, particularly when emotions are acute and the need for even tiny grains of comfort are supremely important.

It feels like a huge change, allowing someone over the doorstep, but oh how worth it it was.

Thanks be to God for good friends.