A break from the usual

 My sister and her husband are on holiday at the moment, so I am "housesitting", but really here to pop round to Mum's every day, and do some jobs for her, like my sister does.  Basically, to make sure she's eating. 

It's a tough time, as Mum wants to stay in her house, but she's got two types of dementia, and has deteriorated quite a bit since I last saw her.  I expect that the inevitable will come, but she's also started throwing, "if I'm still here" into conversation, why she's having lucid times.  

Mum isn't the easiest person to help. 

A bit annoyed...still!

 I decided to make socks for all the male members of my family and cousins as they reached 65, and for my female relatives a shawl for their 60th.

The reason for the age difference is that I decided to do this the year my younger sister was 60, and several of my male relatives had already turned 60. 

Anyway, as I have been friends with a couple since I moved into my own house...over 20 years ago now....I thought that I would add them, as he was 65 in mid January and her birthday is early March. I asked the man what colour shawl he thought that she would like, and he told me that her feet are "always cold" and socks might be more welcome.  

So..I cast on some socks for her, and was almost at the toes on the second when I thought it might be a good idea to check the fit, (I don't always get this chance,).  So, I let her try the finished one on. 

Grrr!   I'm surprised that I managed to keep calm for the rest of my visit, as she found numerous things "not quite right" with it .  I got back home. Crossly finished the second sock, and then vast on the most bland sock you can think of. Just a tiny leg portion, then the foot. I decided that she wasn't having the first pair, that I would find a welcoming home for them.

I had also cast on a laceweight shawl, I decided that she wasn't having that either.  

So, I am still cross, as I haven't seen hide nor hair of her since she found fault, over two weeks ago. I was informally invited to a party at theirs on Saturday, but I detest large gatherings, unless they are my family, and then I will still sit in a corner and people watch. 

So, I need to find homes for the socks, ladies size four, and a laceweight shawl, when it's finished....although it might be suitable for a female cousin who has not yet reached 60. 

New system at doctor's

 As from Monday just gone you can no longer phone for an appointment and get one immediately, but neither do you have to wait for ages to speak to someone. 

Well, how do you get an appointment, I hear you ask? 

You either fill in an online form, outlining your symptoms, and send it to the surgery.  This is then reviewed and dealt with. 

(If you'd rather phone or go in person the form is filled in for you.) They then try to get back to you with the day, and action is taken.

I sent a form in just after noon, and have had a phone call giving me an appointment for Monday morning.  In the past, I have been given appointments as much as four weeks in the future, and nearly always two weeks off. 

Apparently the new system is making for smoother running of the surgery, and less wasted appointments, as all are reviewed and may not need a face to face appointment. 

It will take a while for some to get used to it, but I'm all for smoother running. 

Panatone colour of 2024!

 The folk at Panatone select a "colour of the year" annually.

This time I wonder if the person selecting the colour is feeling OK.  The colour chosen is Peach Fuzz, and it's such a nothing colour.  It has absolutely nothing about it.   It actually reminds me of my grandma's bloomer like knickers that she wore.   It's definitely not a colour to get you noticed, and is actually more non-descript than the 70s/early 80s go to colour of magnolia. 

I really think someone should ask the person who selected the colour if they're OK....really OK. 

Are blogs a dying breed?

 As you might have gathered, I like knitting and crochet.  Anyway, recently I have searched for other blogs, as an interesting pattern caught my eye, and the ones I looked at haven't had any new posts for about 7/8 years.  So, this made me wonder if vlogs are slowly taking over.

So, I wonder, if  you're reading this, do you have your own blog?  When was the last time you posted?  If you haven't been blogging, what are you doing instead, vlogging?

It's not something I think I would like to do, as I don't think I photograph well, so the thought of being on screen talking leaves me cold.

I think I'll stick to writing this blog.......I might even start posting on Fidgetty Fingers again as well.    

Happy 2024

 As I put the year just then, it occurred to me that it's ten years in March since I was diagnosed with spinal stenosis. 

Anyway, that wasn't what I planned to witter on about.   The subject of New Year's resolutions has cropped up on Facebook.

I haven't made any for years, in fact I don't think that I ever have.  I do promise myself to be kind to others, and myself, and treat anything bad as stoically as I can. Then move on from it, dwelling on bad stuff that happens to you just eats away at you and makes you bitter towards the world.  So, as that Disney princess sings....I try to "Let it go".

I do set myself reading and craft goals. 

The reading goals are usually the same.

1)  Read a classic

2) Re-read a favourite book

3) Read a translated book.

4) Read a Shakespeare play

and last year I added to the list, read a poetry book.

As for craft goals, I set myself several for last year, and completely forgot about them, because I had decided to knit a shawl for all my female cousins as they reached 60, and a pair of socks for my male cousins, but they have to be for their 65th birthday , as I had missed quite a few of their 60th 's. (Then I decided to add in Auntys and Uncles as they reached 80, several are already past 80, but I will work around it.)

So, I intend to keep myself busy this year.

Hyper anxiety, or a form of PTSD?

Wednesday  afternoon my ex turned up to lay the parquet floor in my vestibule.

Before I say anything more, I  have to stress that he was not doing this out of "the goodness of his heart", I seriously doubt he has any, but you'll find out why if you read on. 

Anyway, he arrives, starts ordering me about "move this, shift that!" No please, no thank you, just very blunt orders. ...no....NOT requests. 

Then he reads the instructions on the material.  The floor needed priming first. A simple dilute PVA glue mix....but did he asks if I had any, nope! "I bet you don't have any PVA, have you!" Statement , not question.   I knew exactly where it was, so I got it out, and put it on the sink, with a pot.  "Oh hell! I need a paint brush to apply it" ( All swear words will be replaced by more palatable words, starting with hell....as that is definitely not what he said.)

Surprise, surprise, he had one in his tool caddy. 

Then he tore open the packet of parquet flooring. I have had it a while, and the backing had degraded in some bits...so he ripped open the second pack. Air at this point turning blue due to swear words being used. 

"I can't f@¢¥π®€ fit this, it will take for-f......-ever! I'll have to cut every piece." ( There was much more swearing than I am putting ...in fact, from now on, please just imagine that every other word is one.)

I pointed out that no he would only have to cut the edges.   At this point I was feeling stressed out, and suggested, calmly, that we went to the local DIY place and got something else.  ( My parquet floor wasn't going to happen.) 

Less than half an hour later we were back with some click-fit flooring.  He laid the underlay, and said it was too late to continue. It was.  He left saying "I don't know when I can come to finish it.". On reflection , maybe I should have just told him to bill me for what he'd done, and I would get someone else to finish it off.   I did point out that Thursday had forecast rain all day, he works outside a lot. 

Luckily I was up early Thursday, as he rang to tell me that was "pissing raining, so he'd be down to fit the click-fit. 

It was all day, every other word, mostly to himself, swearing. Grunts and groans every minute, barking orders at me, and he doesn't move around at a measured pace to get stuff done, he rushes, knocking things over, which causes more swearing, as he has to right things. You get the picture. I got so fed up with being spoken to like something that he wiped off his shoes, or worse, that I asked him point blank, if he spoke to his other customers like that. He of course saw nothing wrong with how he was speaking to me, and said yes. I just told him that I bet that he didn't. Then told him to speak to me normally, as I wasn't having him talk to me like that.  It quieted him down for a while, but after he left I was shaking, felt sick, and it had brought back to me exactly why I decided to divorce him back in 2000.  

A friend later told me that it was PTSD that I had just put myself through.  Well, never again will I ask him to do any jobs for me, neither paid, or a quick unpaid/usually bartered for.  Oh yes, I forgot to say that if he wants a pair of trousers turning up, or another small sewing job. I do them and never ask for payment.  Plus, while he was here I made him food to eat. 

So once I have paid him, I intend to distance myself.   For the good of my own mental health.