Blue Witch

It got to 40C in the shade by lunchtime...

...and then I forgot to look at the thermometer again, but it did get hotter. Dry heat of the non-tiring kind. This part of Turkey is amazing - just like Greece and the Greek Islands were 30 or so years ago when I first knew them, before cheap mass tourism (aka pissed - dare I say common? - Brits) spoilt them.

We decided to go on a Swimming Pool Safari this afternoon. It was the only thing we did all day (well, other than swimming and snoozing in the shade, and Mr BW read the whole of a book he found on the library shelf - although why I don't know as he did bring 4 paperbacks from home with him - minus the 20 pages missing from the middle). As we're the only ones here, we could try out the other three villas' pools.

4 villas of traditional style have been constructed over many years, within 7,500 square metres of rugged hillside land, by a couple who bought the original parcel of land 20 years ago, and still live here. Turkish law only allows 5% of any plot of rural land to be built upon (in any way, including out-buildings), and none of the villas is visible from the other, and each has a separate entrance, along different accesses on various levels. Each has its own traditional and unique features, and lots of objets the owners have collected, in much the way I collect objets at home. All four are amazing, and each had one feature I preferred. But, this pool, looking directly down into the Bay some ten miles away, was my favourite:

Luckily, overall I preferred the one I chose, having spent several hours poring over the excellent website, before booking.

Here's an aquatic family we saw yesterday during lunch by the river that feeds into the Bay.

The network (the routers are tied up in trees, covered by terracotta tiles, we discovered earlier) seems to be messing about, and I can't get my server to upload any more of the wildlife pictures, so they will have to wait. But, we have all the Witchy Necessities: toads, bats, wild boar, lizards, a baby dinosaur, red squirrels, butterflies, moths, but we've not yet seen the tortoises or snakes.

Oh bugger, I've just sat on the cat in the dark, while moving about trying to find a better wifi signal... She's not too flat...

"Welcome," said the Turkish Villa Cat...

..."I am pleased to meet you, and I already know all about you.

I know you identified the only potential Child Troublemakers (18 months and 3) while waiting at the gate at Heathrow (they were the ones pulling the crowd control elastics in and out and letting them ping back, while their father laughed and encouraged them. I know you were then horrifed when you found yourself in the same row as them on the plane. I know you shouted at them for screaming their heads offf while their mother nonchalantly read her book and their father played on his iPhone (for the entire hour you sat on the plane until take-off) then on his iPad (emitting lots of noises), as if the kids were nothing to do with them. I know you offered the parents your business card and told them to invest in some parenting classes now, or they'd be in for a lot more trouble later, and asked them why they had had brats if they weren't prepared to take responsiblity for looking after them, as the nice stewardess kindly moved you to seats in a more appropriate area to your Witchy Needs.

I know you like BW Blue things, so I've had the minarets on all the local mosques specially coloured:

I've arranged for the migratory b33k33pers to be a quarter of a mile down the road, in the pine forest, and they have quite a few BW Blue h1ves:

I've had blue flowers planted for you:

And I've made sure that the pool is very blue:

And that the sea and sky are even bluer:

Oh, and I've had the owners put some beers, and lots of other lovely goodies, in the fridge too:

There's super-speed free wifi at your disposal, even though you are in the middle of nowhere half-way up a mountain, and no-one else staying anywhere nearby. Now, if you don't mind, that lot has taken quite a bit of arranging, so 'll just have a little snooze on the verandah looking down the mountain to the bay, and hope you'll do likewise:

The cushions are mine, but you can have the BW Blue chair, or the hammock, if you'd prefer.

Later I'll introduce you to some of the local wildlife."

"Gosh" I thought, "a talking cat. How many beers have I had? Or is it the glorious dry heat of the sun? It's certainly an extremely magical and tranquil spot here."

While the mice are away...

... the cats will play.

You'll note we've left them some beer, and the pressure washer to play with.

Left to right, from back: PVC the Mummy Cat, 2010 Kitten Cat, 2009 Kitten Cat, 2008 Kitten Cat.

Check what weather we're having here (although we are in the middle of nowhere further up in the mountains than this).

There may be updates... or not, depending on how the wifi works, and whether or not they actually let me on the plane - so far I've been pat-down searched and made to go in the new body scanner.... first time ever for either.... That new hair cut was obviously terrorist stylee...

The Friday Question

Earlier in the week the media was full of the 'library visits drop' story. Apparently 16.4% of adults attended their local library at least once a month in 2005, whereas, last year, the figure had dropped to 12.8%.

Happily children are still using libraries at the same rate. One of the first questions I ask the parent of a child referred to me with 1iteracy difficulties is, "Do you use the local library at all?" closely followed by, "Are you aware of how much your local library has to offer children, and how excellent the children's librarians are at motivating re1uctant readers, firstly by finding books that will interest them, at their level, and then by running all sorts of holiday reading trails, with stickers and certificates, and story times, sometimes with children's authors reading their own stories, as well as daily story times for pre-schoolers?"

I'm fortunate in living in what is widely acknowledged to be one of the most go-ahead counties in this country for library services. This is because, for as long as I can remember, it's been run by an extremely forward-thinking team, who have worked hard to position libraries at the centre of the communities they serve (just as the media coverage this week was suggesting needed to happen, although they were suggesting putting libraries in supermarkets and pubs... but, that was probably a PR idea to get people talking about it, and thinking more creatively in areas where libraries still resemble those from the 1970s).

Our library service have an excellent range of daily and weekly papers and magazines, as well as up-to-date books, CDs and DVDs, and you can order books (online as well as in person), for free. There is a wide network of mobile libraries serving the smaller villages, and long opening hours in towns (until 7pm, and Sundays). The libraries have modern, comfortable easy chairs for those who want to sit and read or browse, and well-lit individual work areas for those who want to do research. You can fax and photocopy (including in colour and A3) cheaply, and they've had free internet access for years and years, and, recently, free wifi too. They allow and encourage local groups to stage exhibitions in the libraries with galleries (all the newer ones), and sell a reasonably-priced range of tasteful cards, reading glasses, and other assorted related items. You can even borrow one of those gadgets to measure your electricity usage these days!

Many of us moaned when full automation came in a few years back (you have to check your own books out and in, although if you really can't mange it, someone will always help you), as we thought that it would be a good excuse to cut the highly knowledgeable and experienced staff, but, in the eventuality, there were no redundancies, and the staff now do much more creative jobs, and feel much more accessible, as they wander around being friendly and chatting to people as they work, rather than stand behind old-fashioned counters looking official and so only approachable by the brave.

I'm not interested in e-readers. I like to feel and smell my books, and reading from an electronic screen is not good for anyone's eyes (or probably health), long-term. Only that research is yet to appear...

Plus, e-readers seem to work best for fiction, and I don't read fiction these days. I must have consumed more than my lifetime's worth of fiction by the age of 12 anyway. When you do what I do, every working day is better than any fiction book, and my escapism comes from my own creativity, not vicariously living someone else's life, as created by some (often semi-literate) modern author. Liking non-fiction books, often about local or social history or crafts, I want to flick, not read every page, and e-readers just can't work for that. Plus, I like photocopying relevant bits, and adding them to my Witchy files for future inspiration.

I'm told that I had the highest number of inter-library loan requests at my local library last year (all done form the comfort of my own computer chair), and am in the top twenty for request numbers in the whole of the county. I have to get Value for the huge amount of council tax we pay somehow :)

So, I will never be one of the 60% of UK adults who have not set foot inside a library in the last year.

Do you use your local library? If yes, for what? If no, why not?

Career change

I have decided to change career. There is something much more lucrative that I could do.

Yesterday a new shoplet opened in Small Local Town. I say shoplet because it is very, very small. A 'starter unit', sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce. Rent, including services, very low (I've heard £40 a week), no business rates for the first year. One bloke running it.

Obvious target market: the gullible.

I know that from the price list in the window.

• £15 to plug a PC into a router, type in the Microsoft URL and wait for the free download to start?
  
• £30 to turn on a PC, click start/programs/administrative tools/accessories/disc defragmenter (or however you do it in other OSs than XP, I'll find out), wait a couple of hours, then turn off?
  
• £40 to consolidate files? Hmmmm, what does that mean? Might be some magic to that, but devising filing systems are my thing. Ah... a quick Google shows that devising filing systems is passé, but, there are plenty of free tools to help with 'file consolidation'. Stuff it all in one place and hope. But, I still think most older people would be happier working with a logical system of folders and subfolders. So, no problem.
  
• £35 to valet a laptop? For a quick rub over with a screen wipe and squirting some compressed gas into the keyboard? I can do that. In fact, I already have 7 cans of gas to get me started, due to a stock level error on a recent visit to Costco.
  
• £20 to spend half an hour telling someone the basics of how their machine works? The library do free courses and Microsoft provide video intros these days, I thought. I can teach eskimos to build igloos, given ten minutes to mug up before the lesson.
  
• £35 for backing up files to an external hard drive? Plug in, drag and drop and wait. I think there's even a built-in Windows tool to do it automatically now.

Oh FFS.

I'm sure there will be lots of willing customers though. But, I think the average 10 year old could do all of these things, and more.

The techies amongst you will probably tell me I'm missing something. But, I'm not sure what.

Given that I currently provide any and all of these services to half the local populace over retirement age... free of charge, I've decided to change career and make some serious money.

I'm not sure that I look quite geeky enough though (judging from a quick peek through the window of the shoplet at the early/mid 20s bloke running the enterprise, 'appearance' is everything). How do women have to look to seem like computer nerds? ;)

Hair today, gone tomorrow. Erm, gone today.

I woke up this morning and decided I'd had enough. Today was The Day.

12g it weighed, twelve grammes.
9cm it was, nine centimetres.
That's all I managed in 2 years, two years.

Thinking, it may even have been longer than two years that I'd been attempting to grow it. My hair is fine and boring and doesn't grow beyond about 6 inches before it falls out

I have made a shrine to it. In the middle of the kitchen floor.

And so I'm back to my old Witchy short hair.

Wash, rub, and go, short, rather than wash, put up with damp locks around my neck until it dries (I don't believe in hair dryers), brush, fiddle, be annoyed by it all day, and constantly feel it needs brushing.

It feels much better, and I feel much less encumbered by it. And the annoying few grey bits have magically gone (I don't believe in hair dye either).

I asked Hairdresser BW how much extra it was for the restyle. "Nothing," she said, "just spend the extra on some product will you? It would look much better with product in it!" I laughed. She sighed. More than 19 years together : she should know better.

Hair is an unnecessary evil. Discuss.

Thing is, I somehow lost my make-up bag about a month ago. It's probably somewhere in the house, or in one of the cars, but it's disappeared and I can't find it. I currently have one mascara and one lipstick (free when I bought some skin cream in Boots). I haven't missed the make-up, and I haven't been anywhere where I actually need any (it being the school summer holidays, I have only been out to a few crafty things, and the Crafty Ladies, like me, realise that make-up just annoyingly gets onto fabric). I guess I'd better invest in a bit of new powder and blusher, because now my hair looks younger again, I'm going to have to start papering over the cracks. I can remember the days when I wouldn't even take the rubbish out to the dustbin without at least mascara on (1991 I think it was). These days...

Thought for the day

Keep away from small people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.

- Mark Twain

Woodhenge is finished

Yesterday 6.30pm (from up):

Yesterday 9.00pm:

Same time, with some light:

This morning 8am (from up):

This morning 8am (from down):

Two hours for the planting, from start to finish. Raindrops accompanied the final arranging of objets.

It's a good time of year to plant a new garden, because not only can you use summer and autumn plants (heavily reduced in the nurseries, moved from elsewhere in your garden, or split from existing ones you have), you can also underplant everything deeply with bulbs for the spring, so creating a garden for all seasons in one go. Shrubs, grasses, bulbs, herbaceous perennials, and change from £40. Value Witch, me. Just don't mention the cost of the green oak sleepers...

When the light is better later (if it doesn't rain as forecast), I'll get some better pictures.

Fingers crossed for Mummy Mr BW's surgery this morning, please.

Thought for the day

People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for circumstances they want, and, if they can't find them, make them.

- George Bernard Shaw

August Project 2010

The Anvi1 Area, next to the hedge, close to the back door, where I allow bright fiery colours: reds, oranges, and yellow (my least favourite flower colour), has become very overcrowded as the permanent, in the ground, planting is now... ten?... twelve?... not sure without checking the Witchy Annals, how many years old. Despite being chopped back every year, it's become too big and too mature for the space.

Plus, we are future planning and want to cut down on the replanting and watering requirements of all the seasonal pots that surround the central old anvi1 feature (look carefully, it is there!). And, I'm hoping Mr BW will make use of the anvi1 for its proper purpose, as the banging would make a point to the Inconsiderate Townies with uncontrolled screaming brats who have moved in nearby and spoilt the tranquility of the area. Revenge will be sweet :)

"Anvi1 Garden" has been a carry-forward on our running list of jobs for months and months, largely because I hadn't had the right idea. And, new garden features have to await inspiration. We knew we wanted to make something sculptural, with strong form, that would carry strong planting in bright colours. We knew we wanted/needed to take out a portion of the - now four foot wide - hawthorn hedge to better use the space, and open up the view a bit. But, as there is a field drain pipe running underneath the area, the permanent planting space had to be constructed above ground.

While searching the internet to see if I could beat the local supplier's price for new oak sleepers (I couldn't), I found this picture:

We'd seen somewhat similar features at Chelsea and Hampton Court, and, a bit of doodling on the back of an envelope later (well, two envelopes actually), we had hatched a plan.

And so it was that 25 green oak sleepers were ordered on Monday evening, and arrived in the drive on Tuesday lunchtime. Well, there are only 24 there (I know someone will count them), as one was still rather too tree-like and got sent back for replacement.

Tuesday afternoon passed in a blur of anvi1 and pot shifting, hedge removal, pickaxe root removal, and chainsawing. Luckily it was overcast, and not too warm.

This is an aerial view (from the upstairs shower room window) of the cleared area shortly before the hedge got hacked out:

And the hedge is disappearing:

After nearly seven hours of hard labour, just as Mr BW pronounced himself physically incapable of cutting or shifting anything else (a 260cm green oak sleeper weighs 70kg), the sun broke through the clouds for the first time and sent down a pleased ray on the completed retaining back wall:

And here it is this morning, ready for the next stage:

Aerial view:

The Friday Question

Do you watch news videos? Or do you prefer text?

What do you think of the new-ish BBC news website?

I don't have enough hours in the day to watch online news videos, I just want to skim and go. I find the way these videos are presented - the highly practised and/or edited sound bites, the simplicity of the language used by the presenter - all part of the dumbing down of quality information in our world, despite the vast quantities of it now available.

Since the recent changes to the BBC's news website, I've found the content much less visible, so I find I'm using it less, and viewing fewer pages. Their indexing/search facility has always been terrible, so now I just Google if I want additional information. Given that the rumour mill of cuts to the BBC website grinds on, maybe that's thie plan? If the statistics show people are using it less, that will justify its culling.

Thursday Thoughts

It's weird that so often you don't know how much a person cared for you until they're not there any more. Or sometimes you don't know much about the totality of their lives until they are gone.

I think that's probably only true of people above a certain age, mind, from the days where people got on with things and put on a brave face for most of the rest of the world. I doubt today's Tw/ook Generation will suffer from this fate; their biggest problem is likely to be over-sharing, not under-sharing.

So, I'm talking in riddles.

Strange day, today.

I travelled northward 40 miles for the funeral of the 82 year old Old Family Friend I mentioned here. At a place that always amuses me, as a place for a cremation.

Last weekend Mr BW and I went to a local museum he hadn't visited before, and I hadn't visited since it first opened as a Millennium Project. I love local museums. History at its best. It's situated in an old malthouse, and I remarked that I didn't know of anyone who was, or had been a maltster. Which was quite surprising, given that one of my great-grandfathers was a blacksmith, and the other a carrier, and that that sort of occupation has permeated my family tree.

Until today, when I discovered that Old Family Friend was the son of a maltster. One of seven children, he was the second oldest, and only his older brother and a younger sister (who sadly was too unwell to make the funeral) survive. Older brother, who'd been the person who contacted me (at OFF's request), recognised me from our wedding photo (of 16 year vintage), which the Old Family Friends had displayed prominently in their home, he said, and he knew we were the ones who sent, "The wonderful [that word I can't say in August] cards that everyone, even those who don't know you, love reading!" About 50 or 60 there, mostly from the village where they lived for their latter years. And a lady vicar with a lisp.

Mr BW is in France, doing worky-things. And I am in The Inner Coven, drinking red wine (this poor August weather has driven me from the usual summer Pimms, and from rosé to red) and eating sugar-coated fennel seeds. Do not buy these addictive delicacies by the kilo for £4 from your newly-opened ethnic food wholesaler. Oh no.

Mummy Mr BW, on going for her pre-op appointment today, was told, after only having had her pulse taken, that she has a, "Potential he@rt murmur." Hmmm. Right. The xth of yth people of 70+ I know who have been so told, and so worried unnecessarily, by an inexperienced nurse/junior doctor, just days before major surgery. And that having just had to walk up 4 floors as the lift wasn't working. And then, after an ECG, and several hours later, being told, "Oh, we think it's OK after all... but, well... we don't really know... we'll tell the anaesthetists, just in case!" What does one have to do to get professional/quality treatment from the NHS?

The one thing that stops me from persuading Mr BW to give up full-time slavery work right now is the fact that he gets company private medical care as part of his salary package. I wouldn't trust myself to the NHS. And that's me, who has the utmost contempt for the medical profession and their pharmaceutical cure-alls, and doesn't generally request or require their services.

Banking trials and tribulations

Yesterday, Mr BW finally gave up on Abbey/Santander/whatever they want to call themselves this week, and rang to cancel a credit card which we'd kept solely to use overseas as it incurred no transaction charges (usually up to 3% are rolled into the conversion rate you see on your statement).

Since January, he (that's the royal 'he') has written three letters of complaint to them, and, despite receiving an acknowledgement, with a case number, in February, no other response has been forthcoming. This is the third time he has had cause to complain to them since opening the card a couple of years ago. Undoubtedly the FOS would find in his favour if he (I) could be bothered to complete their paperwork this time. But, now that the Halifax have launched their Clarity card, there is another option for fee-free credit card use overseas, and I really can't be bothered with all the hassle for the sake of £50 or so.

"Why," said the call centre operative, "do you wish to close your account?" "Do you have a tick box for, "Contempt for customers?" queried Mr BW. "Ah," she said, almost knowingly.

And so it was absolutely no surprise to me to find that the latest survey finds Abbey/Santander in last place for customer service from a bank. 62% of the 3,388 respondents said their service was 'poor'. Which, to me, begs the question, why on earth do these 2,100 people bank there?!!!

Long-term readers will know that we bank primarily with First Direct. Recently their service has become a shadow of what it was 20 years ago when I opened my first account with them, soon after they started. But, given that they still rate highest (by a long way - 85% of the 1,195 respondents rated them 'great') in this survey, I seem to have little option but to moan, at the correct level (which is never the first, or even the second line person one gets to speak to), when they give me less than the service I expect. I have the satisfaction of knowing that at least two of their procedures have changed as a result of my past complaints, which, to me, is more of a victory than if they'd doled out the £50 a time for every complaint that Santander seem to.

On Monday, we finally joined everyone else we know (without exception) in the League of the Fraudulently Used Card Department. One of Mr BW's credit cards, that has never left his sight, got used to make a £1 purchase in an online Apple Store, then to pay for an online Ryan Air flight for two Nigerians (ie test purchase: do these numbers work, then larger purchase). As Mr BW said to the Fraud Department operative quizzing him about it, we would never buy anything Apple, or fly Ryan Air, so do feel free to block any future transactions from these sources. They seemed to think it was the fact that his credit card is registered to Paypal/eBay that led to the number, expiry date and security code falling into the wrong hands. Given that this is the fourth transaction that they have picked up as suspected fraud in the last four months (and that the other 3 initially denied payments were genuine),one can only think that they had reason to think that the card details had been compromised, as I have only once before, in 30 years of having many, many, credit cards, had any transaction queried. Or maybe more transactions are now queried? Have you had any such issues?

At least it was a credit card, not a debit card, so no money has ever left our account, it's not our hassle to sort out, we're not out of pocket, and the replacement cards with new numbers arrived this morning. But, I would have thought that it would be very easy to trace named people, with known passport numbers, and arrest them for fraud (and, no doubt, other related dubiousness), but, apparently, now that the police aren't involved in card fraud, no-one does anything like this, and it's just another few quid written off against the shareholders' profits. Which is, of course, why they get away with it, time and time again.

But, I repeat again previous advice I have given on here.... never, ever, ever, ever, use a debit card online, or to pay for something by telephone. Your bank account can very easily be emptied. Always use a credit card to pay for things - then it isn't your problem if the card numbers are used fraudulently, and you will never be fighting to get the money back. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that the only safe place to use a debit card is in a cash point inside a branch of your own bank. But, I always err on the side of caution.

Which of you Lefties have been peeking in *my* spell book?

Current score

Witchy Spells 1 : 0 BAA

Busy building Woodhenge.

The Friday Question

"Do you know how to stop children having birthdays, BW?" one of my mums asked last week.

Other than the obvious, or becoming a Jehova's Witness, I couldn't think of a way, so I asked instead why she'd want to do such a thing.

I know her eldest drives her to distraction, but he's not *that* bad, in the overall scheme of things (and, interestingly, I never have any problems with him), and playing on your electronic gadget beyond the time one is called for dinner is hardly crime enough to warrant not being allowed a birthday. "It costs me a fortune for their birthday activities every year!" she answered.

I'm convinced that consumerism is fuelled by girls of seven having hair and make-up parties (I think I was 15 before I even started thinking about make-up, and I wasn't unusual), and boys of eight having go-kart/quad-bike parties (amongst people I knew when younger, go-karts were something you got into while doing A levels if your parents were well-off and you intended to study engineering at university).

When I had this conversation last week, I briefly thought of all the childhood parties we had, and the fun we had playing traditional games, or making hats or headdresses (from a provided pile of craft materials, including thin card, a pot of glue, a stapler, some tissue paper and a heap of coloured sticky paper (uncut, and pre-cut - who remembers 'Stickies'?), paint, felt pens and coloured pencils) to go with whatever the party theme was (cowboys and indians; mermaids, astronauts, farm animals, dinosaurs, seashore...).

But, then, those were the days before children's parties had become a competition between parents to provide the best food/activities/goody bags, rather than a cheap and fun celebration for children (and often your parents' friends - who were *always* known as 'Auntie' and 'Uncle', even though they weren't really).

I thought some more about childhood parties last night, when, out of the blue, I had a phone call from someone I'd never met, the brother of the husband of a couple who lived at the end of the cul-de-sac where I lived until I was nearly 5. They were 7 or 8 years older than my parents, and, as they couldn't have children of their own, I was always seen as special - in retrospect, probably as a substitute daughter - and have many fond memories of all the things I did with them. She did beautiful embroidery (bright colourful flowers on fine quality brilliant white linen backgrounds), and, on special occasions like birthdays, she always served delicious sandwiches with the crusts cut off (I especially remember the cucumber with the peel removed and marmite, or fish paste), home-made cakes and scones, and home-made meringues with real cream (in the days when hardly anyone had real cream in anything) and bits of glacé cherry and angelica, cut to look like flowers, and all presented beautifully on tiered cake stands. Even as a tiny girl, I remember being trusted/allowed to drink tea from an adult tea cup, use a pastry fork, and a proper linen napkin. I felt really grown up.

They came to most of my early childhood birthday parties, even when we moved 20 miles away form them. They came to my 18th (I still have the coasters they gave me, and the matching tea towels, but maybe not the matching melamine tray... although it might still be in the garden somewhere with plants on it), to my 21st, but sadly she was too ill to come to our wedding party. They sent me birthday cards until I was 30 (I have no idea why they stopped then, though!). They bought a new 3-piece suite just before I left university and moved into my first house, but she hated the colour (old gold velvet), so they sold it to me for £100. A fortune to me in those days (probably a whole week's wages from my student holiday job), but a tiny fraction of what it had cost them just a few weeks before. I hated the colour too, but it did for me for nearly nine years, when I sold it on to a friend for £100. It was still in perfect condition, such was its initial quality. The last time I saw him, he still had it.

Although I last saw them in person in the early 90s (and it was either just before, or just after I met Mr BW; neither of us can remember), we've kept in touch over all these years. Sadly, the wife of this couple died from Parkinson's disease a few years back (2004, I've just checked my database), and for some reason, I couldn't get to the funeral, so sent a card of condolence, with a letter of memories, and received a lovely long letter from him in reply, saying how he shared many of them. I remember thinking how his handwriting was so like my Dad's.

I didn't know he was ill. His card last [that time of year we don't mention here, and particularly not in August] gave no hint. But, he's gone now, and thinking about him has brought back a lot of very early memories that I didn't even know I had. I was especially touched that we were 'starred' in his address book as one of twelve people that he'd like told after his death.

So, in memory of Ray, today's Friday Question is: What childhood party games did you enjoy playing?

My list includes: pass-the-parcel, pin the tail on the donkey, musical bumps, musical chairs, and musical statues.

Did you know?

One fly in the world has now proved that it can still fly when you have swatted two wings off in successive missed hits. And so we now know that a fly without wings is not called a walk.

Whether the weather is changing?

I don't know if it's just me, but I am increasingly finding that I can watch the whole of a weather forecast on TV, and then have absolutely no idea what weather to expect here, when it has finished.

The presenters (and we only tend to watch BBC so I have no idea if those on the other channels are all as bad) seem to talk in a monotone, without pause for breath, and to run comments about the weather in with pleasantries to the previous or next presenter to speak, and punctuate their comments with total irrelevancies to the weather. They dot around from region to region, and from day to day.

I find it totally confusing - and I am predominantly an auditory learner (ie one who learns best by hearing things).

So, it's back to the pine cone on my desk.

After yesterday's rain it is at least sunny again today, even if there is an autumnal nip in the air. I'm sure autumn didn't used to start before the middle of August...

Legal protection on car insurance policies

I keep hearing of people who are involved in no-fault accidents, who have paid for legal cover with their car insurance, who don't get the assigned solicitor to help their claim that they thought they would when they paid the £15 - £30 premium + IPT with their insurance.

Apparently there has to be a 51% chance of success or greater for your case to be taken on, and they won't touch anything against uninsured drivers.

That being the case, and given the number of 'no win no fee' motor claims specialists that there are around, if one has comprehensive motor insurance, is there any point in purchasing it?

As ever with policy add-ons, I suspect that is where most of the insuring company's profit is made.

From dry to wet

9.03pm last night:

09.05pm last night:

I love the way the blue/violet flowers (verbena bonariensis in the top picture, and agapanthus in the lower) and white flowers (gladioli in the top picture) and objects (D'Ovectoe in the top, Mediterranean Garden wall - aka Kiki Wall, for those with very long memories, or the ability to use Google - in the lower) gleam in the dying heat and light of the day.

By contrast, at 08.03am today, just 11 hours on, it is pouring with rain. Pouring with Noah proportions I'd say. Still, the garden needs it...

And, for good measure, some garlic to keep the spammers away:

Kitten Porn

Unnecessary hassles, none of our making

We couldn't go away on holiday as we normally do in January/February, due to the ill health, and eventual death (at nearly 98), of Mr BW's Nan, and the need for Mr BW (who had Power of Attorney, and is sole Executor of the will, as the other Executor, his Dad, died 5 years ago) to oversee everything, and look after his Mum and Sister.

There then ensued the Fight With The Tax Authorities, who cannot be dealt with online or by telephone, to get them to open the mail in their mail centre (19 week delay before mail gets opened, let alone processed, and I've heard that on Money Box on R4 too) and sort out the tax owed so he could get probate, and then sort out her financial affairs. By making an official complaint, he was allowed to fax over copies of the documents stuck in the post-room backlog, which got things moving, but then the Probate Office sent an email to an incorrect e-address (rather than put their questions in a letter), which delayed things by another fortnight. Today an apology letter came from the Tax Office, which basically says, "Yes, we haven't treated you as we should. Oh dear. Never mind, better luck next time." Pathetic.

Mr BW has been involved (I hasten to add, only as a manager of someone caught doing inappropriate things) in all sorts of personnel/legal issues at work, together with lots of financial stuff to attempt to secure the company's long-term future in these challenging times and shrinking markets. High level stuff requiring total commitment and total attention and concentration all the time.

In the background I've been trying to support Cleaner BW in coping with her Mother's ongoing brea5t c@ncer (which has now been at Stage 4 for over 2 years, so you can imagine how poorly she is), and Good Friend BW with her husband's increasing dementi@, which has now progressed to him claiming he feels unwell and is dying, every time she tries to go out, despite his GP and the practice nurses having reassured him repeatedly that he is still as fit as a fiddle.

Then there have been all the technology issues of late (malfunctioning netbook, lack of internet - although 18 days on, BT gave in to the demands of the blocker and we now all have broadband, in his case, a broadband line was magically found for him, and in ours, and that of the 20 others affected, our service was restored), added to today by the CD writer on my PC stopping writing CDs (never mind, I have an external reader/writer drive, bought to get software onto the netbook, and the PC is still under warranty, so I should be able to get them to send a new part, but it's still all hassle and the prospect of yet another exasperating hour or so on the phone to India).

Plus several other things that I can't mention at present.

To top it all, last week Mr BW's Mum was diagnosed with brea5t c@ncer, and Mr Old Friend BW was diagnosed with (awaiting definitive test results) either severe neurological issues, or severe anxiety and depression. The first people either of them turn to is... yes, us.

Meanwhile, we are fighting what seems like a losing battle with wasps (buckets full every day from the dozen or so traps around the vicinity of the Buzzy Familiars), and the farmers have been spraying the rolled/harrowed fields locally with slurry, causing billions of flies to make an appearance. We do have one of those commercial-strength insect zappers in the kitchen, but we would need four in every room to cope with this plague. So, we currently have a plastic fly swatter in every room, and, had I known that there would one day be a use for tennis skills, I might have tried harder at it at school. I'm up to 18 20 (2 more since I started writing this post) wasps and 6 flies today, already.

But, never mind, a couple of weeks ago we booked to go away in a few weeks, to somewhere extremely expensive, but utterly isolated, tranquil, and indulgent. For once, we decided to book everything as a package, because we wanted someone else to do the organising and cope with all the potential issues that could arise. And because I don't do 'normal package', it cost lots of Witchy Pennies. More than I should sensibly have spent, but, sometimes needs must. And we took care to avoid BA, because of their ongoing employment issues.

It isn't easy for us, arranging to go away at this time of year, due to the garden's watering requirements, and the needs for care of the various livestock we have. But, we managed to arrange it, and find someone to house-sit, because I was increasingly concerned that Mr BW desperately needs a break from the unrelenting high-level demands from other people on him. He says he's fine, but, painful personal experience tells me that when you think you're fine, you're not; you are, in fact, generally beyond the stage of being aware of the effects of the ongoing stressors on your health and wellbeing.

So, there was an 8-day gap to look forward to, in the midst of all the turmoil and hassles wrought on us by others.

So, there we were, counting down the days.

Only, now I find that the Unite union seems totally unable to understand that the country is in state of bankruptcy and that everyone is having to do their bit to be reasonable, and is balloting its members to reject the 1.5% pay rise offered and take strike action, so ensuring airport travel chaos (closed airports) when we're due to go away. The result of the strike ballot is due on Thursday, but I strongly suspect it's a foregone conclusion. But, rest assured I shall be doing spells between now and then.

Given that most people will get no, or even a negative, pay rise for the next few years, why do airport workers think that they should be a special case? And why will they be treated as a special case? Yes, because they can hold the travelling public to ransom.

Greed, always greed, with no consideration to the effects on others. Would that they could sack all the strikers and give their jobs to people who'd appreciate them. Plenty of those around...

In happier news, today we have been at The Coven for 15 years. And the day we moved in was just as hot and sunny as it has been today. Albeit less smelly, and less fly-waspy. Where have those 15 years gone?

The Friday Question

What are you doing this weekend?

We'll be going to the annual exhibition of a local fuch5ia society on Saturday, and playing with the Stripey Buzzy Familiars' Sticky Stuff and the Magic H0ney Machine on Sunday. With a bit of luck, and not too much gardening needing doing, I may also get time to finish off some of the crafty projects I've been working on, then I can post some pics.

The Snail

I was in the Inner Coven last night, working on a report that had already taken far too long. The recent Lack of Internet Saga sapped all my energy and destroyed my work ethic. So, much as I'd promised myself the whole of August off from most work work, it wasn't to be.

It was pitch black outside. I looked across to the window and saw a large snail coming inside across the plastic frame. I wondered how on earth he had managed to crawl up the house wall, up the roof and over the windowsill. Quite a feat. I admired his perseverance, and wondered what on earth he thought was so good inside that he should make all that effort to reach it.

Then I ungripped him and threw him back down the roof. From the rather-nearer-than-I-had-intended splish (it had been raining heavily earlier in the evening) I think he landed in the gutter.

I carried on working for another 20 minutes or so, printed off the report for proof reading (I wish I could proof read on the screen, but I can't, but I do print on the second side of an already-printed sheet, and only in draft quality).

I decide to shut the window before I went to bed as the nights are getting very autumnal and chilly. I didn't notice the snail was back on the threshold.

Squilsunch.

I am a murderess.

Free money

The banks are off again, changing those credit cards you can use abroad without huge loading or huge fees.

Having enjoyed the 0% Balance Transfer Game, while it lasted (remember the heady days of 2002 to 2005 or so when you could move large balances around for no fee and pay no interest for months and months on end, while getting 8%-10% interest from them on the money?) I'm sad that almost all of the games are gone. I love pitting my Witchy Brain Cells against their T&Cs. Not once in all that time did I slip up, and we paid off the mortgage with the proceeds. Ah, those were the days :)

I posted a while back about the Halifax Reward Account, where, if you pay £1,000 per month into the account, they will give you £5 per month, even if you transfer it straight back out again.

Well, it's now been joined by a credit card product which is absolutely fees free, including of invisible 'loading' charges for overseas usage, and, if you spend £300 a month on it, they give you £5. 1.67% is an excellent rate of cashback, considering the best long-term cashback rate on a fee-free card is less than that (and even those of us with old-style annual fee-free Egg Money cards only get 1%).

So, by my reckoning, you could get £10 per person, per month, or £120 per year, just by spending £300 on the Halifax Reward Clarity credit card and cycling £1000 through the Halifax Reward Current Account. Watch out if you pay higher rate tax though, as you will have to pay another 28p to the Save Britain Fund, on the money you get.

The only problem is, at least in my local branch (and I haven't been into one anywhere else, so I don't know whether this is a general observation), the clientele are rather erm, let's just say, 'down market', compared to that of my usual bank. Still, I can put up with a few, "My Giro's bounced"-s and "Can I pay my kids' piggy bank contents in to bring my overdraft back down to within its £200 limit so I can buy another packet of fags and a scratch card?"-s for £120 a year, particularly as one doesn't have to go anywhere near the branch, as it can all be done online (well, maybe - the website is as primitive, in banking terms, as the clientele).

This does seem very tame compared to the old days, but, at least it's something for nothing from the banks.

They took our field away yesterday

It's probably being processed into cooking oil as I write. No matter how many times I see the combine in that huge field, I just cannot stop being hugely impressed by the machine-power to man-power ratio.

The rotating blade was set very much higher than it is when they cut wheat, and chopped off just the seed heads of the oil-seed rape. All that's left now are the four foot high stalks.

Mr BW enjoyed doing p@tchwork with tiles at the weekend.

Careful readers (all 2 of you, judging from Friday's comments) may remember our past exploits with tiny mosaic tiles. We had quite a few left over. And lots of corks. 18 years worth of corks actually. Which is lots. A while back I was looking for an acrylic cylinder to fill with corks to use as a table base. Some of you came up with some leads on sources, but I didn't find one large enough. But I kept on spelling, and one day Mr BW came home with two acrylic cubes he'd liberated from his exhibition store-room. Failing to find any clips to fasten them together, I concluded that, if Mr BW got some wood and his router, he could make a top for each, so that we could stack them, or use them singly.

And so it came to be that we now have two individual, different but similar, tables for the summerhouse:



Total cost: zero. My favourite price. Everything required either came free or we had it already.

And for those who prefer meat to veg: the Adam Smith Institute suggests that the BBC becomes a voluntary subscription service. So, we would all pay what we think the BBC is worth in future. It'll end up like The Times behind its paywall. If anyone wants more of the same think-tank creative thinkery try here. Fascinating reading. Gissa job.

And for those of you who prefer cats... the Tiger Familiar Kitten is doing OK.