An Evening Chat

My friends are scattered throughout the world. I know no one in the city in which I was born and brought up, went to school and uni and worked until I was 26 and left.  A friend recently said that when her friend left the village in which they both lived "I could leave here now. She was part of what made this village home. Su hogar fue mi hogar. These are the ties that bind us.  And in a way that is difficult to define, I feel alone again.".  And I knew how she felt.

When we went to Lewis in the '70s we left 450 miles behind the life we had made for ourselves, our friends and our families.  We forged new lives with new friends.

I stayed on the Island.  Most of the friends I made in those formative years have left even though many have remained very close friends.  There are times when I have felt alone again.  And then new people have arrived and new friendships have been forged.

And now I have deserted them for six months of each year.

In fact because my friends are scattered throughout the world I have become used to keeping in touch by all sorts of means in this age of easy communication.

But this evening as I was about to do something or other Wendy came down to bring me the mail she had collected from the mailbox and to have a chat.  Several hours and several glasses of conviviality later she poddled off back up the lane home.

And the above words came back to me.  And I understood what she meant with a new clarity.  There is nothing like sharing words face to face.

News From Lewis

I've just had emails from two friends on the Isle of Lewis in Scotland.  It's -2℃ in Eagleton this morning.  That doesn't happen in December.  One of the friends lives South of Stornoway and sent me this photo of his house:

Forms of Address

I've started my Christmas cards this afternoon (Sunday).

When I started work back in the '60s protocol was important.  A Minister of Religion was addressed as Reverend and Dear Sir unless he was higher up the ladder than a simple Reverend.  And so it went on.  We kept a Who's Who in the office and every honour etc was meticulously used.  Even the order was important.  I can still recall that I used to use J Graeme Bryson Esq CBE TD DL LLM JP as my guide for the different types of honour and their order of use.  When I came to the Western Isles I discovered that formalities of address were virtually non-existent.  In fact Lewis is a good training for New Zealand where first names are the order of the day most of the time and you have to know someone quite well to know their family or surname.

Nowadays however there are many more pitfalls for people who cling to some formality in addressing people on letters.  I've given up trying to work out which of my female friends likes Ms, Miss, Mrs or just plain Jane Plain.  Some use the family name from their first marriage, some revert to their surname, some use the surname of their second marriage, some hyphenate any combination of the two.  All in all it's a bit of a minefield for the unknowing and the unwary.  

Men are easier.  I've taken to doing something I actually find anathema - or would have done until now - and for the most part am just using the forename and family/surname with no embellishments.  

And that's just the start.  I'm not venturing any further...

Can I Remember?

What I was going to tell you about yesterday?  It was all very clear at one o'clock this morning but by that time bed seemed a better option.  This morning yesterday seems so long ago and much less important.  It was, however, a very Good Day.  

The House is at the stage where all the alterations are coming to the point where the plasterers, electrician, builder and painters are all there together and there is nowhere to sit or think or eat allthough it's possible to cook and for some to sleep in their own bedrooms!

Even the pool builders have started on their bit of the job:

Martin, Jamie and Fraser are off camping with the Scouts so Wendy, David and Catriona came down for dinner (all prepared and sent down by Wendy to my oven).  After we'd eaten and watched Ice Road Truckers (if you ever get the opportunity it really is worth watching) the youngsters returned to watch DVDs or whatever in the safety of their bedrooms at The House whilst Wendy and I settled down with the cheese to watch The Girl Who Played With Fire - based on the second of the books by Stieg Larsson.  It is in Swedish with subtitles so one cannot even look away for a minute in case one misses an important point.  It's a very intense film and rather unusual in that the 'heroine' is not the most likeable of characters.  I thought I might have nightmares but I didn't and I'll watch the third film in the series very soon.

A piece of trivia for anyone who has seen the film.  The name on Salander's apartment door, V. Kulla, is a reference to Astrid Lindgren's character Pippi Longstocking and her house Villa Villekulla?

Misty was down, of course, and, having been newly shorn looks a fraction of the size she did a few days ago.

Newly shorn Misty and Catriona finishing her desert.

A more hairsuite Misty

After Wendy had returned to The House I decided to experiment with a few night shots.  There was some cloud and the moon was shining so I decided to see what I could do shooting North from the deck of The Cottage with Napier over the hill in front of me.  The result was quite interesting because the orange in the sky which is the result of the lights in Napier was not visible to the human eye (well not to mine anyway).  The visible stars were not very great either because I used a very low ISO and 30 sec exposure.  There's lots of fun to be had with these yet although I've discovered that my camera has severe limitations for nighttime use.

Tikokino

On the way back from Dannevirke last week I passed through Tikotino.  On the State Highway you could easily miss it - there is a signpost and a hotel/café which I had never seen open until last week.  As I had plenty of time and it was a lovely day I decided to turn into the village and see what was there.  The first thing that I foundwas the War Memorial Hall.  For such a small place (it's so small I can't even find any statistics showing its population) the Memorial Hall was impressive.  It also had excellent always-open toilets.  It's the only place on SH 2 between Napier and Dannevirke so that's a useful thing to know so I've logged that away into the memory banks.  

In searching for information on Tikokino I discovered that it had a namesake in Poland.  I learn something every day.

Dannevirke KFC

I was in Dannevirke last week.  I've blogged about the place before.  I don't think that I've mentioned the KFC there.  I'm told that it's the smallest KFC in the world.  Unless you know otherwise........

Anna and The King

When I was about 12 I went to see the film The King and I.  I think I must have fallen in love with Deborah Kerr because I went to see it six times!  Tonight whilst I was ironing and cooking for tomorrow I watched Anna and The King on DVD.  I know that I've had the opportunity to watch it before when on flights but I never have.  What a film!  I was mesmerised by the costumes, the scenery, by the acting, by the story and, in fact, by just about everything.  And when it ended I had a slightly damp handkerchief.  If you haven't already done so then might I suggest that you watch it.

Quotes: 

King Mongkut to Anna: When a woman who has much to say says nothing, her silence can be deafening. 

King Chulalongkorn (King Mongkut's son) at the end of the film:  It is always surprising how small a part of life is taken up by meaningful moments. Most often they are over before they start although they cast a light on the future and make the person who originated them unforgettable. Anna had shined such a light on Siam.

Banks - The Last Rant

I rang the Bank again this morning so that I could make the transfer. Firstly I spoke to Ricki.  I think that was her name.  She had the thickest Manchester/Lancashire accent I have ever heard.  I was brought up toasting 'The Queen, Duke of Lancaster' so I should have been able to understand.  But I couldn't.  Fortunately as she was the wrong bit of Telephone Banking she transferred me to Richard who transferred me to Bob.  All that involved holding on 'as a valued customer'!  After about 40 minutes had elapsed I had managed to arrange the transfer of the money.  It used to take me about 5 minutes but, well you know what Banks are like.  No wonder they want everything done on line.

However.  There is always a 'however'.  I had managed after all that waiting in queues when I was, of course, doing other things, to use my NZD account number instead of my GBP account.  Silly me.  I could hardly blame the Bank for that. 

So I rang again and got Micheal. He had a broad Irish accent so probably came from Liverpool.  He transferred me to Kirsty.  She was absolutely delightful.  So delightful in fact that I didn't even notice if she had an accent.  She has, I hope, managed to sort it.  I'm not sure though because 13 hours later the money still hasn't left my UK account.

Gripe About Banks

RABBITS.  Right.  I hope that brings me a bit of luck in my dealings with the bank tomorrow.

I wrote this at  0017 but left it until this morning on the basis of not doing things like this in haste.

In the UK I bank with the Bank of Scotland.  Of course that’s only a name now.  It became the Halifax and then when that company’s incompetence put it down the pan it became part of the marginally less incompetent Lloyds Bank empire.  I stayed with it because the branch in Stornoway is staffed by lovely people many of whom I’ve known since they joined in the ’70s as fresh-faced tellers and who know who I am when I walk in and they sort any problems.  But I’m in NZ for the next 5 months and beyond their help.

This evening I rang the bank.  After ignoring all the automated requests for information I got through to Daniel.  Nice chap.  Not the chap I needed though. ‘Sorry this is credit cards. You want telephone banking.’  ‘I thought this was the telephone banking number.’  ‘It is but you are through to credit cards.’  I didn’t even bother to ask why. “I’ll put you through.’  Eventually I was introduced to Craig.  He’s probably a nice guy too.  Shame about the job.  But at least he has one and someone has to do it - up to now.

‘I want to transfer £10,000 to my NZ account with the ASB.’  ‘Ah.  That’s a problem.’  ‘Why?’  ‘Because you can’t transfer more than £5,000 at a time now.’  No point in asking why.  It’ll be Government regulations.  ‘Why don’t you do it on-line.’  ‘I tried.  It says that I can’t.’ ‘Ah yes.  If you are setting up a new payment you’ll have to clear it with a customer service agent.’  ‘It’s not a new payment and it wouldn’t even let me get anywhere near a CSA.’ ‘ Should have done.’  ‘Well it didn’t.’  ‘OK we’ll do it now.  I’ll transfer you to the proper section…… some time passed…. I’m sorry the system’s down.  Please call back later.’  ‘It’s 2300 hours here.  Have you any idea when later might be.’  Silly question.  ‘No.’  Sensible answer.  I know because it's not the first time that's happened.

So now, after a 15 minute call half way around the world I know that at some time - as the exchange rate weakens yet again - I will have to spend another phone call and probably go through the whole rigmarole again.  I also know that instead of the usual one fee of £28 ? that I usually pay I will have to pay that fee times 2. 

Because I’m just one of millions who lost money by owning bank shares (‘They are a rock solid gold chip investment’) I’ve never complained.  After all it was the only significant single share holding I had.  My B of S shares were valued around £10 each.  I now have many more shares issued by Lloyds in the buy out.  I have no idea what a Lloyds share is worth.  17p? I can’t even be bothered looking it up.  My loss was liveable with and insignificant compared with many.

I thought I’d add that last paragraph just to indicate just how I’m feeling tonight.

Because tonight the bank has really pissed me off.

Thankful Thursday

Various of my Blogland friends and acquaintances have recently mentioned old age and its accompanying infirmity which is affecting their families.  It made me think about the fact that at the moment old age is not an issue in my immediate family as I am now its oldest member.  Gone are the days when the family had many nonagenarians and even centenarians around.  

There has also been some talk about the lack of independence of youth caused by, amongst other things,  the financial constraints of unemployment and student loans and the lack of independence of middle age as people bring up families.

In truth I'm not sure that any of these constraints are worse now than they ever were but every generation has its own perceptions.  

So today I am thankful that I am the age that I am.  I'm not too old to have lost my independence.  Nor am I too young to feel that I have lost my independence.  My age is a pretty good age from where I'm standing at this moment.