Word on a Whim

A visit to Cardiff Bay for “Death Songbook” : Brett Anderson, Charles Hazlewood, and Paraorchestra

My partner and I have both lost our dads within the last twelve months, and my lovely cousin recently died way before his time. Death and dying, with all it entails, has become a focus, and I have become a grumpy old git!

I’ve always avoided social occasions. I love people individually, but struggle with the noise of large gatherings where multiple conversations are competing in volume. I also love music, but listen to it through headphones, or alone in the car.  That way, I can enjoy it without forcing other people to listen.

When I saw tickets were on sale for “Death Songbook” by Brett Anderson, Charles Hazlewood, and Paraorchestra, I decided to make the effort to go to some event other than a funeral. For me, Brett Anderson is next best to Bowie, and the theme seemed fitting.

So, I did what I always do when I’m going anywhere new … studied Google Maps for the route to Cardiff, fretted about where to park and what time to set off, and dreamed up all manner of things that could possibly go wrong.

Of course, I got there far too early. Wales Millennium Centre was the venue. There was a band playing in the foyer. They might have been good but the sound was so loud it was distorted, so it was difficult to know.

The ‘Death Songbook’ was a seated event. I’d booked a ticket at the end of a row so I would be rubbing shoulders with only one stranger, and was delighted that the seat in front of me was unoccupied, so I had a really good view of the stage.

A Welsh male voice choir did a half-hour performance before the main event. They were good and well received – but the grumpy old git in me became irked by people coming in to find their seats, then squeezing back past again to go and get drinks or whatever. If one more arse gets thrust in my face! It must have been off-putting for the performers, as well as annoying for the rest of the audience who didn’t feel the need to wander around the place. It did settle down though, once we’d cheered them off and the main act took to the stage.

Brett was mesmerising and passionate as ever in his delivery. Some singers appear awkward if they’re not nursing a guitar because they don’t know what to do with their hands. Brett either moves spontaneously, blending with the music, or else he stands still, without feeling the need to jiggle around.

 I realised I was watching with a stupidly happy smile and a few tears, but it didn’t matter because the lights were down. Then, the giant who’d booked the seat in front of me turned up, and I watched the rest by leaning awkwardly into the aisle, looking over his shoulder and giving thanks that I’d got a seat at the end of a row.

The setlist included plenty of songs written by Brett, including Suede’s “He’s Dead”, where Adrian Utley (Portishead guitarist) performed a brilliant electric guitar solo. I call it a ‘solo’ but the rest of the orchestra were playing like mad – the string section really going for it. The cello and violins were rocking!

The highlight for me was Brett’s version of Jacques Brel’s “My Death”, accompanied by Adrian on guitar. I had been looking forward to this one, and knew it wouldn’t sound like a Bowie imitation. Halfway through his stunning rendition, I realised my stupid mind was no longer enjoying the moment. For me, this was the climax, and therefore an indication we were getting close to home time. I started mithering about where the car was, and reminding myself to do all my fussing around (swapping jacket for fleece, setting satnav for home etc) before paying at the meter, just in case I was only allowed five minutes to get out of the carpark once I’d paid. Then I got cross with myself for not fully focussing on the bit I’d been mostly looking forward to!

That was yesterday evening. I took photos of Cardiff Bay. It’s not exactly the ‘seaside’ I’ve been craving. That would require crashing waves and cliffs. Although, if I zoom into this photo, I think I can see a distant lighthouse 😊

Car Insurance Employment Status

I was made redundant in the spring.  It wasn’t a surprise; it was a planned closure of the firm I worked for. This week, when my car insurance came up for renewal, I phoned the insurance company to update them with the change of details. Since I’m no longer commuting a hundred miles each day, I expected the policy price to be reduced.  Instead, it went up!

“I know, it’s bananas isn’t it,” said the guy on the phone.  He explained that my change of employment status to unemployed had caused the increase.  WTF?!  What exactly are the connotations of unemployment that would trigger an increase when my annual mileage has reduced from twenty-five thousand miles to five thousand?  I decided to try elsewhere.

I found a better deal on a comparison website, but couldn’t select “commuting” as I’d selected “unemployed”.  Bloody computers!  I was also miffed because the no claims discount was dependent on the renewal notice, and the previous insurer didn’t care beyond ten years so that’s what their renewal schedule said, despite me joining them a couple of years ago with far more years’ no claims.  Grrrr!

Too much time to think, I guess, but I ended up phoning the new company to ask if I could add commuting, in case I forget to do it when I get a job, and also to check that it wouldn’t massively raise the price.

Several layers of call vectoring and twenty minutes of crap music later, a real person answered the phone. (I wasn’t sure at first, these robots are getting good at impersonation!)  I asked the lady to add “commuting” and the price went up a little. Then, I asked her to change my employment status from “unemployed” to “housewife”, explaining that I’m not claiming benefits – just taking some time out, and the price came down a few quid lower than if I was unemployed and not commuting. Confused.com? I am now!

What exactly is a “housewife” and why are they less of a car insurance liability than someone who is “unemployed”?  I imagine many housewives are busy ferrying children to various activities; doing the school run at peak times; trying to park in spaces too small; popping to the supermarket on the way home, and then taking the dog to the vet. Meanwhile, the unemployed person is sitting in the house browsing jobs on the internet … and paying more for their car insurance at a time when they could really do with paying less

But how do you get to it …?

I know I’m not the only one who gets frustrated with packaging design – not being able to get at the contents of a packet without using some sort of tool … when cooking a meal, for example, and everything is already simmering but it takes five minutes to add that final ingredient because it’s a new packet and you can’t get into it.

My least favourite packaging is the rigid, see-through plastic that is moulded around the item, requiring strong scissors to cut around it whilst creating nasty sharp edges.  I once queued behind a customer in a hardware shop, who wanted to return a yale lock because it didn’t fit his door.  When the assistant refused on the basis that goods could only be returned with packaging in tact, he pointed out that it was impossible to tell if it was the correct lock without taking it from the packaging, which was impossible to do without destroying it.

Packaging is designed with good intentions but do the drawbacks sometimes outweigh the benefits?

The Push and Turn top is sometimes used to make medication ‘child proof’, but if the medication is used regularly it can end up on a mantelpiece with the lid resting loosely on top, defeating the object.  It is also used on some bleaches and cleaning fluids but sometimes the bottle is so flimsy that it starts to cave in when the top is pushed down.

Some containers simply don’t want to part with their contents, giving you the option of either throwing half of it away or else cutting the container to get to what’s left inside when it will no longer dispense.  Being a bit fussy about smells, I tend to go for unscented moisturiser, and decided to give this a try:

No complaints about the product, but the bottle is so strong and rigid that after a couple of uses, squeezing with one hand to squirt some into the other hand is fruitless.  The container stays in the squeezed position and has to be manipulated from the sides to get it back into a shape that is ready for action again.  Storing it in an upside down position helps but owing to the rounded top it has to be barricaded into a corner, propped up by other items, and comes crashing down if anything is moved.  So what is the purpose of this design?  The only advantage I can think of is that it has no scratchy edges that could hurt if the baby got hold of it.

Where I work, we have had new toilet roll dispensers fitted. (There are plenty of other areas that need improving but for some reason this took priority). Without being too poetic, it looks like a pair of breasts with milk flowing from them.  Here it is on a good day, with both nipples producing:

The obvious benefit of this design is that the paper is kept clean and dry and untouched by anyone except the person about to use it.  The down side is that the paper comes out like a piece of string and has to be straightened out before use.  Worse still, it has to be pulled very gently as it tends to break off, usually with the perforations just within the nipple, so you end up with this:

The photo above illustrates a particularly dodgy situation in which it’s advisable to milk as much paper as you might possibly need before starting anything, otherwise that one sheet on display might be all you’re gonna get!  This of course leads to waste, as it’s difficult to gauge precisely how much paper will be required, and better to err on the safe side.

On a bad day, you can see the paper but there’s no way of getting to it – but at least you know where you stand (or sit) with this:

Moving on,  I think the key holder must have been on holiday on this occasion (you need a key to open the dispenser) because what happened next brightened up an otherwise mundane day:

Yes, I know, ‘little things please little minds’ … but I don’t think anyone had any issues with the previous loo roll holders (not that I went around asking).  If there was some on the roll, you knew it was there for real and not just to tantilise, even if sometimes it meant inserting your hand up inside it to coax and jiggle it down.  I’ve no idea why it had to be reinvented … maybe sometimes change is just for the sake of change.