After last week’s rant, two things occurred to me; first that I probably needed to post this week as well, just so you know I’m alright and second; reading it back, I got the impression I might be sensible to do a little self care.
Self care is underrated.
The friend I go walking with one day a week was not around this week and as a result, I decided that, with nothing much else on, socially, this was the perfect time for a bit of self care. For this week only, I decided, Real Life could just do one. Obviously, I still went to Mum’s but the traffic was kind to me and she was in good form. I was also going to go to my metal detecting club meet on the Thursday but had a reprise of the lovely vertigo I’ve been enjoying on and off for a while. The rest of the week, I holed up at home and relaxed.
Self care measures included: writing, reading, going for walks alone, putting aside every single bit of admin and listening to music. We are also all building the same model ME 109 although we’re at different stages. I’ve made half the cockpit, McOther is painting his and McMini has pretty much finished his because he’s so patient … not. Mwahahahrgh. It’s been great fun though.
On the music front, taking McMini’s lead, I’ve recently signed up for Spotify since this seems to be the most straightforward way to listen to my vinyl records in the car. It’s what he uses it for too. Yes there are three people in our house and each one has a separate record player of their own. Jeepers we are such massive spuds. I also use it to listen to stuff that’s too obscure to source anywhere else – although Discogs is pretty good for getting hold of pretty much anything in that respect. So it was that I set about getting my library organised by searching out all those obscure things I don’t have, have lost or couldn’t track down.
About a million years ago I was sitting in a curry house and the background music was a Rolling Stones cover played on the Sitar. I thought it was brilliant and asked the waiter what it was. He was so excited that I’d shown an interest that he went and got the record sleeve, plus two more staff, from out back. They then explained, enthusiastically, that it was a guy called Anander Shanker (it turns out he’s Ravi’s nephew). A lot of his stuff is on Spotify.
What’s it like? Well, if the French electronica group Air added sitar to their stuff … something along those lines. There are also cover-versions; Shanker’s version of Jumping Jack Flash is genius and Come On Baby, Light My Fire is certainly a lot different from the Doors’ version. Next stop the original that Verve’s Bittersweet Symphony is based on by the Gary Oldham Orchestra. I had forgotten the name and I had to ask McMini for that one. He spoke about how he loved the bell at the beginning and it was lovely to see him discovering music with the same joyous enthusiasm that I had at his age. He is totally open to anything so as well as punk and thrash metal, he listens to military bands, bag pipes, Anander Shanker (of course) classical music, ancient ska, Finnish folk songs, electronica … all sorts.
After I’d added the original Gary Oldham song, or Snurds, in flight as I like to call it because if I play it, that’s what I see if I shut my eyes (The Pan of Hamgee whisking Ruth off from her palatial prison the night before the installation, for example). Spotify suggested all sorts of other similar things, and I liked the ones I … well … liked so I could find them again. This is where Spotify is good. I have about 9gb of my own music on my phone. It’s also on my iPad somewhere but Apple refuses to believe I’m not a pirate and has hidden it, only allowing me to play the handful of things I’ve purchased from iTunes over the years. The 9gb of music just sits there, invisibly, taking up space.
Now this is no longer a problem and Apple can ‘do one’ along with Real Life. I can listen on Spotify and the artist gets a tiny royalty for each listen in a way that they wouldn’t if I was listening to stuff I’ve bought on vinyl and transferred to my phone. Also, since most of the vinyl I have is no longer available new the artists get something, albeit a risibly tiny something for listens to the stuff I’ve purchased second-hand. I don’t like Spotify, but I do like that I can use it to fund my favourite artists simply by listening to them.
It strikes me that ‘responsible’ use of Spotify is all good, because it’s giving artists an income, however pissy that income may be, for listens they would not normally be paid for. It’s a pity Spotify don’t pay up front for a ‘new copy’ after every X number of listens, the way some libraries do for ebooks. Either that or pay more per listen, the way libraries do.
I also discovered a craptonne of early Ska and some of the songs by the Petshop Boys which I haven’t listened to for ages because I don’t have them. Indeed I spent the entire journey to Mum’s this week listening to Paninero on repeat conjuring up an image of The Pan of Hamgee being chased which played on loop in my head. He’s wearing a 1920s flapper dress, beads and the most ridiculous blonde wig and he keeps appearing and then disappearing as he runs over a row of peaked roofs with what looks like the entire world chasing after him.
Yes, the sausagewright mentioned in Too Good To Be True has been found. Kidnapped, locked up and forced to make Goojan sausage she is pining for the fjords! She has agreed to make four sausages and then Marcella, the pirate has sworn she’ll let her go but now her captors are demanding more. She has been on a go slow, so they kidnap her brother — Burton Coggles — a quiet, dapper, retired gentleman who volunteers at the local library.
A suitable K’Barthan street scene … it’s really Arras Grand Place.
Unfortunately, no-one in Marcella’s gang, least of all her, realises that the thoroughly anonymous Mr Coggles has a secret alter ego as half of K’Barth’s most famous comedy duo, drag queens Phlange and Knutt. Bitingly satirical and very quick witted, they are not exactly popular with the authorities but are loved by K’Barthans and the authorities recognise that they serve a purpose, in poking fun at those in power in a way that let’s the locals let of steam without them doing anything to clutter up the place or disturb the economy like having strikes, riots, revolutions etc.
Phlange and Knutt being an act, and imaginary aliases rather than real beings, the Grongles don’t know who the people behind the act really are, and the artists, themselves, ensure it stays that way. And yes, they are based extremely heavily on two of my favourite comedy artists Hinge and Bracket. I can’t quite work out if Burton Coggles’ alter ego is Dame Evangeline Phlange, or Doctor Ariadne Knutt. Or indeed, whether it’s Dame Ariadne Phlange and Doctor Evangeline Knutt. Only time will tell.
The mystery to solve then will be a) where is Marcella getting the sausage/keeping the sausagewright? b) What’s happened to Phlange (or is it Knutt?) of Phlange and Knutt? and c) how will The Pan spring Phlange/Knutt and his sister from their prison, on the top floor of a warehouse. d) Why is he springing them? Because Marcella is working with a Grongle Captain and Colonel to become a pliant, malleable (for the Grongles) Boss of Ning Dang Po. Clearly, neither Big Merv nor The Pan (who is one of the first people she’d kill) wants that. But neither do any of the other ganglords it turns out.
More scenes from Ning Dang Po … 😉
Obvs at some point, The Pan is going to be pretending he’s Phlange — to act as a diversion and draw off the pursuit? That must be the bit I keep seeing with the roofs. Yes, the fight among the helium canisters will still take place. Obviously the Grongles will disapprove of Phlange but be even more pissed off with Marcella for disappearing her because the average K’Barthan in the street is convinced the Grongles have mislaid Phlange and there are riots and all sorts of other untidy shenanigans which interfere with the Grongolian owned parts of the K’Barthan economy.
The Grongles don’t like Phlange and Knutt but they dislike rioting and disorder even more. Hence the Grongle Captain will attempt to whack Marcella the Pirate and I think she will whack him and get a laser pistol as a result. At which point, she will meet his superior, oh no, not the Colonel Kay but General Vernon, who will evaluate her, decide she falls short and throw her off a roof in front of a petrified (but hidden) Pan of Hamgee. Lord Vernon, newly ‘elected’ party leader will be lauded for fixing all the trouble so quickly and be elected leader of the house in the K’Barthan parliament … although he might possibly get elected because his predecessor has presided over this and he uses it to his advantage, I’m not sure.
So, writing? Yes. I have made a lot of time for that. As you can see, I do now have some idea of where this one’s going and more to the point, where it’s come from. There’s a fair bit of primping and squishing about on things I’ve already done so they fit in the right places, which I’m still doing. Then I have to work out what scenes are missing up to the point in the narrative I’ve reached and then I can get going on the nitty-gritty. Will it come out the way I’ve just described? Of course not but those are the basic threads, how they are eventually plaited together is up to the characters involved, I’m as in the dark as you until it’s written.
Other self care activities. It was McOther’s birthday and he does a lot of wine tasting. Everyone turns up with a nice bottle, covers it up and then they all try it and try to work out what wine it is. It’s fiendishly difficult but fun and the trick is more about knowing what’s in another person’s cellar than actually tasting the wine. I think I mentioned this a few weeks ago, and that I have been knitting some bottle covers to replace the dodgy socks McOther and friends tend to use to cover up the labels. Anyway, I managed to complete five; one for a friend who was attending and four for his nibs for his birthday.
To my delight, both recipients appeared to be genuinely pleased with them. Alongside, I gave McOther the usual lame presents; peanut butter cups and wine gums because he’s a little bit addicted to both but he was clearly chuffed with the bottle sleeves, as was the interested friend, who was one of a group who came to dinner to celebrate with us, so I’m chalking that one up as a win. I suspect I will need to knit more of them.
On Saturday morning, in a nod to the admin, I sorted out my car insurance for the next year but then … a slight disaster struck. Mum.
Bruv has been staying over the weekend. At the moment the mortgage is on hold because he wanted to evaluate whether or not we should be moving Mum earlier. I genuinely think she’ll be ready to move in the next year or so (as in we’ll be able to move her without her really realising what’s going on) and so do the carers but I’m not sure it’s time yet. Obviously because Bruv has a bigger family and stays longer she presents a very much worse picture for him than she does for me, but she’s definitely getting there.
Long and short, she fell on Friday night — her bad knee gave way and the next morning, when she tried to stand, it was so painful she nearly threw up. She ended up going to hospital, where she is currently staying. They couldn’t see if there was a break or not from the X-ray because she’s so arthritic but the orthopaedic surgeon wanted to have an MRI or CT scan or whatever it is they do in order to try and find out for sure one way or the other.
Serendipitously, a geriatric specialist was there too asking her all the dementia questions, none of which she could answer except her name and that of the monarch apparently. If she got an official dementia diagnosis in passing, that would be the icing on the cake. It’s nice leaving this to bruv and wife although I’m not sure how long before I have to go down there. I’ll visit on Wednesday, anyway.
As I write we are waiting to see if she’s seen by a physiotherapist this morning—if she isn’t it’ll be Wednesday before she is—and also whether she gets the scans etc and they are able to find out more. Then it’ll be a cast or a boot and she’ll need to start trying to walk on it. They’re also looking at her knees. Not that they can do anything about any of it now because she’s far too demented to undergo an anaesthetic.
We’ve hummed and haad about finding her a place in a home short-term for rehabilitation but her care team can do that, themselves, and I suspect she would do better at home. Also unless we can get her into a forever nursing home and hope that she likes it so much she wants to stay, it’s probably not worth doing that. What tends to happen is they send patients to the nearest place with spaces and that might be fifty miles from her village and her friends so it wouldn’t be any use.
So we wait …
It seems like a decent ward, and Mum is in good hands. Meanwhile, I learn that a week of self care is probably essential from time-to-time because I’m OK and without it, I think I’d be doing a lot more pointless worrying.
On a completely different note …
If you are looking to administer some self care yourself by reading for example … or listening, here’s something that might help; a free book.
Yes, Small Beginnings, K’Barthan Extras, Hamgeean Misfit: No 1 is free to download in ebook format from all the major retailers and you can also get the audiobook for free from my web store.
If you think that sounds interesting and would like to take a look, just go here.
The washing finished as I was on the phone to my Mum. I had the headset on so I could wander round chatting to her as I did other stuff. So I went to empty the washing machine, opened the door and … what was that thing? Eugh, what had McMini put in the pocket of his PE kit? I reached out and picked it up, it was like a bag full of liquid, at which point I realised it had arms and legs and with a small squeak, which was quite restrained of me in the circumstances I thought, I dropped it.
M T McGuire Authorholic 