Word on a Whim

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09 Jul 2023

Dog poo – a social experiment

In my previous post, I shared some photos of the beautiful woodland I love to visit as often as possible. I used to go past a dog poo bin on my way up there, but it got taken away. I’m guessing that was because dog poo (in UK, if tied up in a bag) can be deposited in any public waste bin, and there are two of these less than two hundred metres away, one either side of the road.

Surprisingly, even though the bin was gone, people continued to leave poo bags around the post that the bin had been attached to. I was interested to see bags now come in colours other than black. Blue and yellow appear to be the favourites in this neighbourhood. Odd to think of choosing a colour, I mean, if you consider your favourite colour to be blue, then maybe you like to wear blue tee-shirts?

I haven’t had a dog in recent years but still have a stash of black bags.  Not only are they used when Alfie occasionally visits, they are also great for protecting my phone when I’m out in the rain, or for filling up the car if the garage doesn’t supply gloves. I also mostly wear black, rather than blue or yellow, so they are an essential matching accessory 😉

Back when we had a dog, we lived in a village where the Facebook group noticeboard seemed overly dedicated to dog poo discussions. I would read the comments with wonder at the passion a fresh dog turd could ignite in people. Graphic photos as well, with speculation about the dog’s diet!

When I used to walk Gandalf, I would sometimes pick up after other people’s dogs. I figured if I was already carrying a bag or two of shite, one more wouldn’t make any difference. Then another dog walker told me I shouldn’t do that, because it was enabling the lazy ones to leave it there for someone else. I guessed she had a point, and it also wasn’t too pleasant picking up a hard cold one with no associated dog, so I stopped doing it.

This of course is different.  People were taking the trouble to bag it, but then leaving the bags at the location where the poo bin used to be. Were they expecting the poo fairy to come and take it away? I knew I’d make a really good poo fairy. But if I removed it, would that make them think it was okay to dump it there? I’ve no desire to take on permanent poo-fairy duties, especially as I don’t currently have a dog.

I decided to clear it up. It was a social experiment with the feel-good factor of being the local womble. If I removed it, would they leave some more? Armed with a bin liner and disposable gloves, I picked up twenty-one bags of crap. It would have been a nice round twenty, but included one I’d seen the previous week that had been strategically placed at the edge of a track, as if to give the impression they were going to pick it up on the way home.

That was last weekend, so this morning’s trot to the beautiful woods had an added point of interest. I was expecting at least a couple of bags – probably the yellow ones with contents from a Labrador-sized dog. But no, there were none at all. Wonderful!

My conclusion is that no-one wanted to lay down the first bag. I wonder what would happen if I left one there? Would there be twenty bags by next weekend? No, I’m not going to try it!

If you’ve got this far, thank you for reading crap!  To end with something nice, here’s an old photo of Gandalf, playing with a lump of wood he found in a field one frosty morning:

He weighed about forty-five kilos but was so light on his feet we have a lot of photos where his feet aren’t touching the ground:

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25 Jun 2023

Biodiversity Net Gain – could this be the saviour?

I remember coming home from school in tears because I’d seen trees being cut down in a field I walked past. Mum used to call me “Queen O’Grief” because there was always something! Those huge trees that had taken years to grow, were replaced within a few weeks by a row of detached houses that appeared to be made of ticky-tacky and all looked just the same 😉 That was about fifty years ago. Now I’m a little more hardened to seeing the UK countryside being destroyed so developers can shoe-horn as many houses as possible into each patch of land they claim.

I know people need houses to live in, and I am grateful that I have one, but it shouldn’t be at the sacrifice of the habitats of other creatures that have as much right to enjoy life on earth as we do.  This is why I am excited about this new scheme that might hopefully slow the spread of the plague of concrete across the land.

From November this year, biodiversity net gain (BNG) will force developers to compensate for the destruction of habitats on the land they build on. “Net gain” means that habitats for wildlife must be left in a better state than before the development, so there must be a quantifiable gain in biodiversity as a result of the new housing estate.

My first reaction was elation that this sounds so difficult to achieve that what remains of our countryside should be safe. Even if developers take the trouble to propagate wildlife areas around the building site, surely habitats will be disturbed by light and noise pollution, people’s barbecues and domestic pets? And it’s difficult for people brought up in a short grass and pruned trees culture to let go of being overly tidy with their gardens.

I did a bit of research and it looks as if the solution for the developers, which unfortunately means new estates will still pop up, is to allow them to buy “biodiversity credits” from the UK government to pay for habitat creation and management elsewhere.

It concerns me that the BNG contract between the developer and the government is for thirty years … so what might happen after that? Let’s hope a contingency plan will be in place well before the thirty years is up. There are bound to be lots of questions and doubts about how BNG will work, but it’s a massive step forward in protecting and securing what we haven’t already destroyed.

Since it’s fifty years since “Plant A Tree In ’73” (a government-sponsored national campaign in the United Kingdom) let’s end with some photos from a lovely local woodland. That’s steam on the first one, not smoke. The sun had just come out after a heavy downpour.

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30 Oct 2022

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 😊

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05 Sep 2022

The Landlady – flash fiction

I had my reservations about sharing my home with students, yet this place is far too large for me to be rattling around on my own. Individually, they are quiet and studious – but as a group they tend to shout, rather than speak quietly to each other. Curtis even shouts, “LOL” instead of actually laughing. At least they are keeping me young with their energy, and up-to-date with the ever-evolving English language. But please not “some think” or, worse still, “summink”. The word is “something”. Surely you wouldn’t call a King a “Kink”?

Aside from the generation gap and their bad taste in music, I do enjoy their company. The better I get to know them, the more maternal I feel. Harriet is the one I feel most attached to. Some weekends, the other students go home to their parents – but Harriet is always here. I have listened to their conversations, and get the impression she was more or less brought up by her grandparents, so she must be used to older people like me. I have tried to engage with her when it’s just the two of us, but she seems uneasy with conversation and tries to ignore me. Her choice, of course. Afterall, she’s a paying guest. But she knows I’m always here if she wants to talk.

All these youngsters are paying more than they can afford. But with this ridiculous energy price cap hike I keep hearing about, they understand that it’s a fair price if they want a warm bedroom this winter.  And a hot shower if they can be bothered. I just wish they’d all help with the cleaning. The grouting is getting grubby and it wouldn’t hurt them to wave the brush down the toilet once in a while.

Thursday evening is the one time they all seem to be here. Supermarket beer and wine is flowing, and Dylan is passing round a roll-up cigarette that smells strange and musky. Then Harriet starts whingeing to her housemates that she feels nervous being here without them at the weekends. She finds this place a bit creepy.

Creepy? A little old-fashioned, maybe, but I wouldn’t call it creepy. I hope perhaps one of her housemates will take it up, and invite her back to theirs for the weekend, but no-one does.

Then Haydn, the philosophy student, starts going on about everything being nothing more than a perception – and there’s a discussion about whether or not this solid wooden table will continue to exist after they have left room. Of course it bloody will! I stifle my laughter and tell them it’s been here donkey’s years. They ignore me – except for Harriet, who looks straight at me, but without smiling.

I go upstairs and leave them to it.

Harriet spends most of Saturday doing her course work, sitting at the solid wooden table which is conveniently still existing. It’s only when I join her in the evening and sit in my usual armchair that she mutters something about the crap WIFI connection and storms off upstairs. I can’t help feeling rejected. I’d thought maybe she needed a break from her work and, if I’m honest, I liked the idea of a bit of company. I’d hoped she might put the TV on, and we could watch a film together.

I gaze up at the ceiling. It sounds as if Harriet is packing her bags. I go upstairs and hover outside her bedroom door. I can hear her crying. The yearning to go into the room and comfort her is so strong – but it’s not my place. To enter her room would be overstepping the mark.

Sunday morning, I can hear her on the phone, sounding bright and business-like. At least she’s cheered up. The kettle boils and clicks itself off. The toaster smells of burning. Those students really should consider emptying out the crumbs occasionally!

Curtis and Haydn return together, looking tired and relaxed. Harriet greets them dramatically. Her luggage is in the hallway and they struggle to get past with their rucksacks.  I watch and listen from the landing at the top of the stairs. She tells them she is moving out. Apparently, she’s had enough of this place and has found somewhere else.

“This place is haunted, I’m sure of it! I can’t stay here another day!”

“Haunted?” says Curtis.

Haydn shrugs and gets a beer from the fridge. “I guess it’s just a perception …”

“Haunted?!” I laugh out loud at the idea, and Harriet rushes away, slamming the door behind her.

I’m sorry to see her go. Harriet was the only one I felt really in tune with. And of course this place isn’t haunted!  I should know – I’ve been here more than two hundred years.

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29 Jul 2022

Idea for a children’s video game with minimal graphics. Free to use – you’re welcome!

This idea began in a dream, and then developed during my most alert hours between 2am-4am.

I’m old enough to be one of those who enjoyed colouring books and crayons or felt-tips, and never got into gaming. My favourite toy was a collection of plastic farm animals. I spent hours arranging them into little herds and flocks, then moving them from one place to another (across the carpet) and securing them into little pens. Back then, I thought the countryside was idyllic, and the farm animals were kept as pets. When I realised that was not the case, I refused to eat meat … but that’s a different story.

If computer games had been available when I was little, the game I have created in my mind is the one I would have enjoyed.

Not sure whether it should be targeted at three-to-six-year-olds, or under-fives.

“Rise and Shine Farmyard” is what I called it, but call it what you want.

I think this idea might be useful to a student who is lacking inspiration for a project, or any company wishing to create a low-budget game. No realistic animation required – just a progression of still pictures and with some animal sound effects.

This is how it works:

Farmyard scene/landscape initially (but more scenes could be added, such as garden pets or horse livery stables).

Start with dimly lit farmyard scene. Sepia or greyscale. Faint crescent moon. Sun just peaking over the horizon. A farmyard with outbuildings surrounded by fields.

  • Cows in cowshed
  • Cat asleep on hay in loft above
  • Horse in stable
  • Pigs in piggery
  • Hens in hen house
  • Sheep in sheltered pen
  • Dog in kennel
  • Ducks asleep at side of pond

Click/tap on each sleeping animal and it transitions to its daytime position. Or possibly drag and drop to desired area. Little or no animation. Animal noise on click.

For example:

Click on each cow and it disappears from cowshed with a “moo” and appears in a field eating grass. Click on each duck and it disappears from pond-side and appears in pond with a “quack” etc.

As each animal moves, the sun rises a little, and the scene becomes brighter and more colourful. The moon fades away and by the time the last animal is clicked, the sun is high in the sky.

The game can then be restarted, or done in reverse to put all the animals back to bed.

It’s as simple as that … but a heck of a lot of work for someone! 🙂

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12 Aug 2021

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 :-/

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19 Apr 2021

John Sherwood’s ambient music

I had a lovely surprise in the post this morning from my friend and former colleague, John Sherwood:

John is a composer of ambient music.  Some is for meditation – ideal for blocking out summer’s intrusive relay of lawn mowers and strimmers, whilst pieces such as The Saturn Suite send you flying through the cosmos with an ear on the response of the rocket’s engine as it propels you into infinity and beyond …  Does anyone else feel slightly weird thinking about infinity?  What if you had a rocket that generated its own fuel and could go on forever and ever  ……?

The Lighthouse composition seems to work equally well as foreground or background sound, having the energy to help you on a journey of the imagination but without taking over. It would provide an ideal backing theme for a tarot reading, or to create atmosphere in a video or montage. 

That’s probably enough pretentious twaddle from me. Let the music speak for itself!

 Here’s a link to a wide range sound samples, MP3 downloads and CDs:

https://johnsherwood.bandcamp.com/

… and here is the link to The Lighthouse Tarot CD:

https://johnsherwood.bandcamp.com/album/the-lighthouse-tarot

Cheers John 🙂

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20 Mar 2021
1 Comment

The Lighthouse Tarot in action!

Donna was one of the first to buy The Lighthouse Tarot and it made my day when I was queueing for a Covid jab today and she sent me this link to a video of the cards in action. I am so impressed with Donna’s intuitive readings and her lovely voice!

Posted in Life experience, Self-Publishing, Tarot, Uncategorized
19 Feb 2021
6 Comments

The Lighthouse Tarot – available for purchase

My small print run of The Lighthouse Tarot has been delivered:

I am selling them for £22 per deck plus postage by Royal Mail:

Price including postage for a single pack/deck:

UK standard 1st class: £22.00 + £3.85 = £25.85

Europe (with tracking):  £22.00 +  £10.25 = £32.25

USA (with tracking):  £22.00 + £13.45 =  £35.45

Canada (with tracking): £22.00 + £12.70 = £34.70

Australia (with tracking): £22.00 + £13.85 = £35.85

Please use the Contact Form to order a deck or to enquire about other postage options or for multiple decks.

 The cards come in a cardboard tuck box.  There is no booklet but a list of definitions can be found by clicking on “Tarot Card Meanings” tab or menu option.

They are standard tarot-size 7cm x 12cm, printed in the UK on 320gsm card with smooth finish – very easy to shuffle and fan.

Thank you 🙂

Posted in Self-Publishing, Tarot, Uncategorized and tagged , , | 6 Comments
12 Nov 2020

What is it and where is it coming from?

Not a rattle in a car but a smell in the kitchen. Not a particularly strong smell but noticeable when coming downstairs in the morning. Not a pleasant smell either – reminiscent of the time my partner decided it would be a good thing to ferment cabbage and sprouts in jars. Thankfully, he soon realised it wasn’t!

You know how a smell can literally get up your nose – as in get on your nerves? I am not tidy and do very little dusting but I like to think the house is hygienically clean. Whilst it might appear untidy it is orderly. If there are clothes in the corner of the bedroom it’s because they have been worn at least once and are therefore ‘contaminated’ so they can’t go back in the cupboard but are not yet ready for washing.

My nose was in every crevice to detect the origin but it was a general smell rather than focused. I poked a long stick around the edges of the gas cooker in case anything had dropped down and was rotting then squirted lots of bleach down the kitchen sink and ran bleach through the rinse cycle of the washing machine.

I came downstairs the next morning confident that would have cured it – but no!

There was only one place I hadn’t checked … behind the fridge:

Being under-counter, nothing could’ve dropped down the sides but what if some poor creature had somehow got behind it and died? If you’ve read this far you might be getting the nature of this smell!

“Sordid details following” thanks Bowie 😉

I pulled out the fridge and this was the drip tray at the back:

I never knew they needed emptying! Maybe I’m gross and everyone else regularly checks and cleans theirs?

Oh well, problem solved 🙂

Where there’s a smell there’s a mission!

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