Official Letters

You know the official envelopes that drop through the letterbox? The kind of things from The Scottish Parliament, Holyrood Palace, The Police. . . . . . . . . . .  (Yikes – that one frightened me so much it became a sermon illustration – it turned out to be an official survey, nothing bad at all!)  Right now, the envelope on the desk is from the Driver & Vehicle Licensing Agency, and Yes, I have opened it.

The clue is in my forthcoming Birthday Month. . . . . . . it is being advertised earlier than usual, rather than February for March I am thinking about it already – January for March. That’s because it is a big one with a nought at the end. Definitely a big one because I have to get a new driving licence. I remember almost fifty years ago, passing the driving test and being so proud of the bit of paper which did not expire until March 2014. It seemed so long in the future as to be a nonsense; well. . . . . here we are and it is definitely a nonsense that time should pass so fast.

The form is a bit daunting, though there is the option to complete the application online. Providing one has a passport – and I do – it is ok to seek renewal using the same photo id card. And to be honest, I don’t look too different from the issue of the photo. I can have a go anyway. Presumably, all relevant details are online. I wonder if the whole of our “official” government-type lives are going to be dealt with on the net. I suppose that if it works it will save money, though I dread to think of all the operatives who are losing their jobs because I input my own information.

Cannot decide whether I am pleased or not. I don’t like filling in forms these days and have to admit it is much easier to type in the details required. Am I just selling out, or keeping up with the times?

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Another update – this time on bathing

This is another update – today it is on bathing Misty.  The last time I described the process I gave a description which said that it had to be secret.  Then, once she was actually in the bath, provided it was a warm bath/shower, all was well. It turns out that in fact, the little dog likes a hot bath. And as she has got older, we no longer have to tip-toe around and sing to mask the bath running.  It has taken a long time for her to teach us that a hand-hot bath suits her bones, and she enjoys tea-tree luxury shampoo, followed by her giant bath towel wrap, then finished off with the stronger of the two hairdryers.

After eight doggy companions, it has taken Misty, the smallest of them all to teach us how to bath a canine friend. Though to be fair, Dana the retriever was happy in any kind and temperature of water. She just liked to be wet.  And is no doubt in some version of a watery doggy heaven, over the Rainbow Bridge.

B2014 Dana 2

Dalamory has been on the edge of the snow-belt today so we all enjoyed a slightly slidey walk up in the forest. So it is no wonder the hot bath went down well with Misty.

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Update on mooc

Over 23,000 students have enrolled so far.
Not able to give it due attention today. At least it is only fictional.

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New Year at the Hairdresser

Looking in the mirror at the hairdresser this afternoon was not an altogether happy experience. I don’t usually “do” mirrors all that much these days. The only exception is for Dance Class on a Friday Night – it seems to necessitate eye make-up and a bit of lipstick. Anyway, it helps to set the mood.

Back to the unkind mirror at the hairdresser’s shop. First of all the light is too bright – in other words there is nowhere to hide. And secondly there is no way to avoid staring at one’s visage. Who is that poor old soul with the bags under her eyes and the creases leading on from the downward turning lips? Oh no – it’s me! So then comes a grimace – not much better, followed by a tentative smile – the eyes crinkle up but the humour is evident. Then, a laugh as I realise the woman opposite me (behind me but looking in her mirror) is doing exactly the same thing.

Safely home now and no more brightly lit mirrors. At least until tomorrow. It’s Dance Class and we are having our New Year party. Out with the mascara and lippy then . . . . .

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There’s been a murder!

According to folklore – There’s been a murder! – is a stylised line from the famous Taggart series, though the makers of the programmes assure us it is not so.  Anyway, Strathclyde University have launched a 6-week MOOC on an Introduction to Forensic Science, using a murder set near to Loch Lomond. The crime is based on a factual incident though some details have been changed.

Am I interested?
Is HBTW interested?
Are we binge-watchers of NCIS / Lewis / Morse / Frost et al?

So we are doing it together.
It is very good and very interesting. . . . . . . but no sinecure. More details to follow!

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Fragility and gentleness

Fragility and gentleness go together and are especially apt at this time of year. You don’t have to be retired to admit to feeling fragile – particularly at this early stage of January. Come to think of it, facing up to being fragile, takes a certain degree of courage too. The reward is that you are required to be gentle to yourself, take care of yourself and yes, even put yourself at the top of the list for the day.

My list didn’t get very far – it was just that kind of day – and now that darkness has descended again, it’s time to put my feet up and binge-watch Holby City episodes that were recorded over Christmas.  HBTW is out tonight, so Misty and I stock up on goodies – mainly fruit of course, install ourselves on the couch and try not to doze off. Well, I try to stay awake, Misty is “in charge” so I don’t have to worry.

Happy gentleness from Dalamory

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Malala

 

B2014 BookiammalalaI am Malala is one of those books which is potentially life-changing. Here is a young girl who stands confidently before politicians and world leaders, to express her belief that all children have the right to an education. In the context of Pakistan, this means especially girls. She comes from a remarkable family, where her parents are proud of her, despite the fact that she is a girl. In her culture there are many people who support the view that women should not be seen and not be heard.

Nobody keeps Malala quiet. Not when she is calling out for the rights of women and girls to be equal alongside the men and boys.

She was already well known in her own country as an advocate of equal rights and after the shooting in late summer 2012 she became an icon for education worldwide.  The book helped me to visualise her valley of Swat in northern Pakistan, especially when they were under the undue influence of the Taliban. I had not appreciated the violence that occurred on an almost daily basis from suicide bombers and the like. These troubles were throughout Pakistan, but in the remote provinces there was at times a type of lawlessness that bowed people down. Malala explains what it is like to grow up amidst such terror and when food could be scarce. Hers is a brave and bright story, she shares her happy times as well as her sad times. But through it all her determination, courage and beliefs shine through.

Her family is temporarily in Britain, near to ongoing medical treatment that may be requred. But as to the future . . . . . who knows?

When I described the book as life-changing I meant that it is impossible to read this memoir and not be touched and drawn into the shocking state of affairs whereby around the world there are 57 million children who do not go to primary school, (32 million of them girls.) In Pakistan 5.1 million children don’t get to primary school, though the consitution says every child has that right. Girls continue to be killed and their schools are blown up. Malala says her dream is that all children should receive education, and that there should be Peace in every home, every street, every village, every country. No wonder she was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

I am Malala, is not what I would call an easy read. Sometimes it is heart-breaking and at others it makes your heart believe in dreams and miracles. What we see, is hope unfettered and dreams unchanged. A good lesson to learn for Oldies like me.

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Safely home

Safely home again, through rain and wind and mist and floods – and it is still raining now in Dalamory. I guess the only advantage is that were it to be five degrees colder, the precipitation would be snow. And there would be so much that the house would disappear under it.

We had a good trip south and enjoyed several meals out. The strangest feeling of deja vu was when the chef and owner in one restaurant, came out of his kitchen to check in with us. He grew up next door to us – the image of him as a successful restaurateur made me feel ancient; but it didn’t stop me enjoying the meal. Two courses – the first a beautifully prepared steak with all the trimmings, the desert a lime and lemon tart with creme fraiche vanilla icecream. And no eyebrows raised when I finished off with Earl Grey tea instead of coffee.

Time for a Day Off tomorrow. I suspect many people will be experiencing a sense of relief now that the holidays are over. Or maybe that is only true for retirees.

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Best story

The best story told this holiday season has been about the time when we lived in Newcastleton.  Son #3 was around 7 or 8 years old; the village was looking at its best with the main square set out with green lawns and leafy trees. Said son was beside his bicycle, which was propped up on a tree trunk. Apparently the tyres needed pumping up, and Son #3 had found the foot-pump from the boot of the car. He was busily engaged in the operation of fixing the pump to the tyre, and could be viewed easily from our house. His Granny and I were watching with interest.

He eventually got it all fitted together and, with great enthusiasm, he started to pump the air into the tyre. Things were going well when all of a sudden there was the most enormous Bang!  One very startled little boy ran a good twenty metres away, then stood and stared back at the mangled tyre.

Needless to say, Granny and Mother were convulsed. And this has become a favourite family story.

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Convenient travel

We’re travelling nearly as far as England today, in the comfort of the campervan. It’s great that many good campsites are open all year round. Lidalia has good amenities – electric hook-ups, on-pitch water, tv reception and wi-fi. So all of a sudden, winter travel becomes a pleasure. And as for the journey – there are no worries over finding refreshments open on a public holiday, and rest facilities are available if needed – HBTW in particular, enjoys an after lunch zizz . . . . . . . . . .

So we have the perk of an extra wee holiday at the end of the festivities, as we take a visitor home. Come to think of it, Twelfth Night is when the decorations are due to be taken down, and stretching things out for a  bit longer is perfectly acceptable. Back to normal then, is shunted on to Monday, 6 January. Perhaps I am learning something more about Wisdom after all.

Misty is excited about having an adventure so early in the year. She thinks it bodes well for the rest of 2014. The best thing about camping and caravanning is the informality, and Newcastleton has several eateries in easy walking distance, so we can eat out if the fancy takes us.

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