My First Wasted Day?

There were times when I was at work when I felt I had wasted my time.  Sometimes a day seemed to go by without anything productive coming out of endless meetings or numbing strings of emails.  Sometimes whole months were dedicated to initiatives, projects or sales drives that either petered out or were delivered but then were reversed by the next top management team’s new ideas.  But, when I look back, every day I usually learned something about myself, colleagues, my role or how to do it better.

Since retiring, I don’t think that I have wasted any day.  Yes, some have been less productive than other s and less productive than they should have been.  The to-do lists I maintain have sometimes remained a bit static.  Some afternoons have been more somnolent than planned.  But every day has added something.  Until yesterday!

I had expected this blog post to include details about a wonderful weekend away in north Suffolk and Norfolk where we were planning to meet up with two couples who Long-Suffering Wife (LSW) and I have known for ages.  The couple we were planning to stay with are particularly good friends who we mutually introduced to each other almost 40 years ago and with whom we have contemporaneous offspring and many shared experiences.

Unfortunately, about 100 miles out from home and two thirds of the way there, LSW’s car gave out.  The bulk of the day was spent on the side of the road waiting for the mechanic, then waiting in a tiny Marks and Spencer (sub-)service station for the recovery vehicle, and then in the back of the recovery lorry as it took us home.

LSW's Stricken Car Being Loaded Up For Maybe Its Last But One Trip

LSW’s Stricken Car Being Loaded Up For Maybe Its Last But One Trip

There were some upsides.  When the engine cut out at 70mph in the outside lane of the dual carriageway A421, we were parallel with, and not just in front of, a big lorry so could fall back and get into the inside lane without forcing the lorry to slow abruptly.  We then coasted to the edge of a layby so we were just about off the road; an engine failure a few yards earlier and I would have had to have pushed the car in the nearside lane of the carriage way.  It could have been a lot worse and the only physical risk was that my bladder would burst before the mechanic arrived.

When he did, he quickly confirmed that the car was dead – frustratingly due to some apparently poorly done preventative work we had done to replace the cam belt in our local and previously unimpeachable garage last week.  Pound notes floated in front of my eyes…..

He took us to a local petrol station cum café.  The upside here (apart from the presence of a toilet) were the staff; they were so understanding and nice to us.  Three hours staring at shelves of ready-made meals wasn’t fun but it was a first world problem made easier by their hospitality.

Elstow Interchange M&S - Our View For Three Hours on Saturday

Elstow Interchange M&S Services – Our View For Three Hours on Saturday (At Least It Was Relatively Warm)

Then the trip back with the recovery lorry with the car on the back was long.  But again here was the upside of the chirpy driver who described some of his life candidly, imparted some useful (but rather depressing) knowledge about the impact of a loose cam belt on the rest of the engine, and went out his way to drive us home after dropping the car off at the garage.  The journey was something of a reaffirmation of the goodness of human nature on near the minimum wage.

The final upside has been that we have a small mountain of rather nice cheese that we had planned to offer to our Suffolk hosts but had to bring back home.  That has been partly dispatched already and all meals this week will have a delightful accompaniment.  Also, because we had no proper provisions in for the weekend, we have been ‘forced’ out to the local pub for Sunday lunch (which was very good).

So, yes, the forking out for a new car and the anticipated rumpus with the delinquent garage will hurt and the weekend was disappointing given the expectations.  But it could have been worse.  There were some positives.  And maybe having ‘wasted’ days like yesterday help me to recalibrate so I appreciate the good days more.

Remember, Remember

The week has been busy and I have had a number of interactions with the United Kingdom’s national commemoration of the armistice at the end of the First World War on 11 November 1918.

Commemorative Poppies In Our Local Town, Nailsworth

Illuminated Commemorative Poppies In Our Local Town, Nailsworth

When I was in Lincoln last weekend I saw rehearsals for a memorial ceremony while I visited the cathedral.

Remembrance Service Choir Practice At Lincoln Cathedral

Remembrance Service Choir Practice At Lincoln Cathedral

Then, at the football match I went to see in Lincoln, there was a pre-match rendition of The Last Post, a minute’s silence and a collection by, amongst others, a man dressed as a huge poppy.  There was a similar pre-match marking of the armistice when I went to Oxford United’s stadium for another football game there.  On both occasions, the bugle playing was eerie and moving as the notes swirled around the windy stadia.

Remembrance Ceremonies At Oxford (Top) And Lincoln Football Grounds Prior to Matches With Forest Green Rovers

Remembrance Ceremonies At Oxford (Top) And Lincoln Football Grounds Prior to Matches With Forest Green Rovers

During my visit to London last week to see a band with Middle Son (MS), I also fitted in a visit to the ‘Beyond the Deepening Shadow’ installation at the Tower of London.  This consists of 10,000 hand-lit memorial flames and it was as impressive as the installation of bright red poppies spewing out of the Tower of London a few years ago.  The flames are a remarkable and imaginative way of marking the end of the First World War and the sacrifice of so many soldiers during its execution.

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The scale of that sacrifice became even starker to me as I visited another exhibition – ‘Shrouds of the Somme’ – at the Olympic Park to the east of London.  In contrast with the Tower of London exhibition where the crowds were enormous and the queues were hours long, the Olympic Park exhibition was very accessible and there was more time to think about what I was seeing.

1st World War Commemoration At The Olympic Park, London

1st World War Commemoration At The Olympic Park, London.

The main display here consisted of 72,396 shrouded figures – one for each of the British Commonwealth servicemen killed at the Somme whose bodies were not found – laid out in rows across a field.  There was then a separate set of the same shrouded figures – one for each day of the First World War – labelled with the number of servicemen killed on each day.  It was a very impactful exhibition.

The numbers of dead in the First World War are quite well known but still incomprehensible.  The 72,396 are just the dead whose bodies were not recovered mainly because they were simply fragmented and lost in the mud.  The 953,104 total dead represented at the Olympic Park are just those from the UK and the Commonwealth.  The 9 million soldiers from all nations who died were far outnumbered by the more than 20 million wounded and beyond that there was mental scarring beyond understanding.  It was a crazy, horrific war.

The nationwide commemoration and remembrance of the First World War – the centrepiece exhibitions I saw in London, the faces of soldiers etched on beaches around the country I saw on the TV news, the processions and the local displays and events, including a poignant and unexpectedly long roll call of the war-dead in our own little village – has all been very impressive and moving.  At the Olympic Park especially, I had time to reflect on the importance of remembering the disaster of past wars and avoiding a repeat.  The current rise of nationalism on both sides of the Atlantic makes the lessons of the past especially timely.  Unfortunately, it is one thing to remember the lessons and another to act on them.

On a jollier note, MS and I had a really good time watching Roosevelt, a German electro-pop artist.  I can’t recall smiling so much during a musical performance.  The music is straightforward and the next note always seems exactly as anticipated – does that make it predictable or just perfect?  Either way, we both had great fun seeing Roosevelt again.

Roosevelt At Oval Space, London

Roosevelt At Oval Space, London

Co-incidentally, he is from Cologne where we are having a Christmassy city-break next month.  However, we went to dinner last night with a couple who are fascinated by bio-dynamic agriculture, the annual equinox cycle and creativity tied into the seasons.  As usual, the discussions were fascinating but they didn’t want to talk about Christmas or our Christmas market visit until next month.  Instead they wanted to continue focus on the joys of autumn. They are right; the autumnal weather is still good and the colour on the trees and bushes remains marvellous.  Autumn is still out there waiting to be enjoyed.

I make no excuse for including yet another set of pictures from my walk into town this morning.  I am privileged to have the opportunity to enjoy these walks every day.

Autumn Views And Colour On My Walk Into Town

Autumn Views And Colour On My Walk Into Town

Lincoln And Parental Visit

Long-Suffering Wife (LSW) assures me that I went to Lincoln with her over 30 years ago.  My degrading memory apparently doesn’t stretch to that.  So, when I visited Lincoln last weekend, it felt fresh and surprising.

River Witham in Lincoln

River Witham in Lincoln

The cathedral was bigger, taller and more imposing than I had imagined.  The hill up to the cathedral tested my fitness more than I anticipated.  The medieval castle walls, around what is now a rather impressive Victorian prison, were more intact and offered better views than I expected.  It is a lovely city centre built on a hill by people who understood the dangers of flooding and the benefits of a prominent position in low, flat countryside.

Lincoln Cathedral From The Castle Walls

Lincoln Cathedral From The Castle Walls

I was in Lincoln to support my football team – Forest Green Rovers (we played very well but lost narrowly and unluckily to the league leaders).  I took the opportunity to combine a bit of footy away travel with a visit to my parents in Nottingham.  It was great to catch up with them, to check on how they are doing, and to sample a local restaurant with them.

Views of Lincoln, The Castle Walls And The Prison

Views of Lincoln, The Castle Walls And The Prison

We also progressed some recent discussion I have had with them about my family tree.  My Dad has already done a fair amount of work on his side of the family but my Mum’s side is largely blank at the moment and I want to investigate and document that more fully.  So far, all I have done is translate my Dad’s investigations and free text notes into a PowerPoint graphic.  I’m not sure how far I can go but I am thinking that fleshing out the family tree will give me an excuse to revisit my Dad’s roots around Kintbury in rural Berkshire, and my Mum’s on the Isle of Wight.

While I was with my parents I also followed up on my desire – as I mentioned here a few weeks ago following attendance at a couple of funerals – to document my preferences for my, and my parents’, funerals.  As expected, I got some good ideas for classical music selections from my Dad.

I got some very useful pointers on what to think about in a blog comment from an old friend who had had similar recent funeral experiences.  I have used that as a starting point for a simple spreadsheet structure listing things like preferred coffin type, flowers (or not), music, readings, speakers etc.  I will use this to document the things that will help guide organisers of my funeral, and that of my parents, when the time comes.  It sounds morbid to be thinking of this now but I think this is bound to help those who follow at a time when they will be stressed.

Back at home, I have been working increasingly diligently through my day to day to do list.  However, as mentioned last blog post, I have strained something in my side – is it getting better or am I just getting used to it I wonder – and that has restricted me to only light physical activity and little gardening.

I have, though, had sitting-on-the-sofa time to finish reading the Milkman by Anna Burns.  I can see why it won the Booker Prize.  It’s difficult to recommend it since it is so unconventional.  It has page-long paragraphs filled with snatches of dialogue and long sentences that are written as one thinks and talks rather than as one normally writes.  But it is very relevant given the current issues around female abuse, fake news and the potential Brexit threat to the Good Friday Agreement in Ireland.  Ultimately, I enjoyed it a lot and so I do recommend it.

I’m now choosing my next book to read and then heading off on a brief trip to London.  Centrepiece for that is a gig with Middle Son (MS).  Nothing like a bit of Europop to elevate the spirits…..