DIARY OF A SEPTUAGENARIAN
- John Copeland -
Friday 3rd February - Thursday 9th February 2012
3 inches of snow that will mean a further reduction in our economic growth in the first quarter of this year.
"Retirement may be looked upon either as a prolonged holiday or asa rejection, a bring thrown on the scrap-heap."
Simone de Beauvoir
FRIDAY 3 FEBRUARY
Yesterday afternoon a fellow representing the National Health Audit Service came to see me, having the day before telephoned to ask whether he could call at my house in connection with a dental surgery I used privately on one occasion, the surgery allegedly having claimed for various treatments that I did not have.
When he duly arrived about 3.15 p.m., weaving his way between the paint pots, the house continuing to be beautified, I had to give the date of the one-off visit, assuring him from personal diary entries that I keep that there were no other visits and no treatment other than the inspection on the single occasion. I find it strange that any dental practice can make fraudulent claims, but then this is Lax Britannica where anything can happen..
The painter arrived just before 8 o'clock this morning, working until 5.0 p.m. (no early Fridays for the self employed), having only half-an-hour for lunch, spending the day painting away in the hall and landing. Seeing him hard at work, made me think of the comparative working day of a Democratic Officer of a local authority, well paid, 6-weeks holiday, and a good pension at the end of the working life.
To be fair, the "long and complicated letters/e-mails" that I have sent to the Senior Democratic Officer dealing with my heresy are said to have "taken up a lot of officer time", being told that any further correspondence from the district council would cease because of the apparent work overload. Nevertheless, I think I would rather be a Democratic Officer, even dealing with advanced heresy, than spending all my working days with a paint brush with only the radio for company, going home with the smell of paint all over me. I was going to say "covered in paint", but maybe that does not happen to professional painters.
Alas, at the very start of this week I am mentioning the Inquisition yet again, despite Mrs. Copeland wisely telling me to forget the silly and unimportant nonsense of proceedings that seem to have taken on the appearance of a vendetta, every effort being made to find me guilty in having dared to criticise the authority's district councillors. So no more this week about the Inquisition, unless I have a communication from the Grand Jury setting out the punishment for my heresy, probably worse than an ASBO.
Any workman has to have his accompanying radio set, usually blaring forth the cheerful mediocrity of the pop and pap of local radio stations. However, we are fortunate, for our painter listens to Radio 4, which assumes that the listeners can do joined-up writing. Presumably before employing workmen it is advisable to ask which radio station they listen to, though I suppose such a question could be regarded as an infringement of their human rights. How careful you have to be these days
The temperature went down to -5.2 C last night, and there was a sprinkling of snow that almost covered the ground. No doubt this inclement weather will subsequently be cited for the negative growth in the first quarter of this year. Had the sun shone we might have soared ahead with growth, just going to show what bad luck the Cameroons have in trying to reduce our trillion-pound deficit.
Snow in the garden
At noon I joined two of my friends in visiting a widow whom we have known for many years, having in former years enjoyed many sessions with her and her late husband Ivan, who was a wonderful character and who, like so many of our departed friends, is sadly missed. We had wine and home-made bread, making for a most pleasant session. At one stage we were talking about this country's latest destroyer being sent to the Falklands as a result of the Argentineans making further threats about ownership. We were saying this was not unlike the gunboat diplomacy of old. The Duke of Cambridge is also being sent, though this is said to be routine.
Later in the afternoon I also took wine with a neighbouring couple. The husband has been crippled following a stroke, but he is able to enjoy wine, and although he has sadly lost the use of speech, he understands what is said. The evening, with the outside temperature falling sharply again, was spent by the fireside, reading some more of the book on Eva Braun.
SATURDAY 4 FEBRUARY
In one of yesterday's entries I reported that Mrs. Copeland had said that I mention the Inquisition I am facing from our little district council far too often in this diary, telling me that I ought to take absolutely no notice of the pathetic proceedings. It is good advice, yet this morning I received an e-mail saying: "Tell Mrs. Copeland that we love the Inquisition!" So that was cheering, just as it cheers me up with all the help in dealing with the pantomime from supporters in this country and overseas, especially in America, even having legal help to fight against the injustice.
When, following the completion of the pantomime, readers see the 12 pages of complaints made against me, I will have to issue an 'elf & safety warning that they could fall about in helpless laughter. If readers hit their head on the cocktail cabinet having read only a few paragraphs, I really cannot accept any liability, especially after giving a warning. However, this is all in the future as the Inquisition could go on for many more months.
As I have remarked before - mentioning most things before in this repetitive diary - I would dearly like as a punishment for having been found guilty of heresy to go on the NKVD-style corrective training course, which is one of the options.. This would be even better and funnier than having a letter of censure (another possible punishment), which I would have framed and put up in the hall for visitors to have a jolly good laugh at.
Come what may, (and I used the subjunctive, even if some people may not be aware of its usage) it could possibly be argued that, as the 12 pages of complaints submitted by the two district councillors consist almost entirely of extracts from my diary, this ridiculous Inquisition costing the council taxpayers several hundreds of pounds, is essentially an attack on the freedom of expression that the Internet supposedly offers. There is also the further consideration that one of the complainants made a complaint to the police, arguing that the entries were racist.
I was subsequently cleared by the police, who having contacted the Crown Prosecution Service, said that there were no charges, and I was therefore not guilty of the accusations. Nevertheless, it is worry that views expressed on the Internet can, at least in this country if not in America, lead to such accusations and the involvement of the police. As Nick Cohen argues in his excellent book "You Cannot Read This Book", which I am now reading: "As the Net opens up previously unavailable information to employers, police forces, corporations, democratic governments and dictatorial states, many will realise that the new techniques are a secret policeman's dream." And there's the rub, as old Hamlet would say.
This is why I subsequently want to take up the issues in the press, being helped, as mentioned earlier, by a press agency that is prepared to take up the case for me, trying to give as much publicity as possible to the proceedings, all fully detailed in the records that I have kept over the months, involving the 12 pages of complaints and the 36-page report of the Investigating Officer who interviewed me at my house for over two hours, not to mention all manner of other documents. Oh, the nonsense!.
What seems so incredible is that the Standards Committee, referred to as the Grand Jury in this diary, says in the minutes of the recent meeting that "Discussion ensued during which the allegations and findings were examined in detail. Careful and lengthy consideration was also given to the methods available to Committee for determining such matters as well as the impact and implications of recent developments, including the subject Member's resignation."
You might be forgiven for thinking that I had disclosed military secrets, or built a nice little bungalow without planning permission, yet this is all about entries in my diary, which presumably have nothing to do with any committee of a little district council. Still, the "ongoing" Inquisition will have given the Grand Jury members a day out, suitably reimbursed from council taxpayers' funds, giving them something to do, probably even making them feel important in having to deal with such weighty issues. Nevertheless, as Eeyore would have said: "It's pathetic!"
View from the conservatory on another cold day.
There was the news in the Saturday "i" that the Energy Secretary, Chris Huhme, had been found guilty of a driving offence, and had subsequently resigned his office. There was also a report that a footballer had been "stripped of his England captaincy ahead of trial on charge of racial abuse."
Maybe there can be no excuse for a Minister of the Government who falls foul of the law, but it seems awful that such an offence, presumably not all that serious, can effectively end a politician's career. Just one day; one incident, and there is a life shattering consequence that follows. It is a theme that haunts me, and not just because I am undergoing an Inquisition
Additionally, it seems a sad business that a footballer is judged as being guilty before a trial takes place. It is yet another reminder of this country becoming increasingly vindictive and intolerant, backed up by a multitude of repressive laws designed to restrict freedom of speech, almost as if we are going back to the dreadful days of the Star Chamber.
This point is cogently made in Nick Cohen's excellent book "You Cannot Read This Book" that, as mentioned earlier, I am now reading, the author arguing that the libel laws in this country have become notorious throughout the world, enabling powerful companies to stamp down on any complaints about their nefarious activities, the services of our libel lawyers even being used by countries abroad. Any whistleblower invariably faces dismissal, ending up on the dole.
It is a frightening development, one that is steadily eroding our freedoms, yet nobody (other than the worthy Mr. Cohen) seems all that bothered about the descent into autocratic rule in which the wealthy can escape punishment, threatening any person who seeks to reveal some of the underhanded and corrupt practices of a big company.
Another item in today's "i" reported the findings of psychologists that were detailed in a Canadian newspaper, saying that "people with right-wing views are less intelligent on average than those with leftist political allegiance, a study of 15,000 cases has found." On the other hand, the study warned that "all socially conservative people are not prejudiced, and all prejudiced persons are not conservative", so that's all right then. How can anybody have any faith in psychologists?
I had problems with one of the programmes I use on my laptop, and seeing a help facility I duly telephoned the number, ending up speaking to an American. The fellow was exceedingly helpful, saying "we'll soon sort out the trouble for you, John," and he did so, ending by wishing me a nice day. I like and admire the Americans immensely, especially their "can-do" philosophy that is in such marked contrast to the usually awful service here in Lax Britannica, everybody so negative in those dreadful customer service departments.
No wonder that the Americans are now coming out of recession, while we go ever deeper into the mire. During the Second World War the Americans would complete an airfield, while in this country we were still trying to get planning approval. It is not just a question of the Americans having a lot of money and resources; instead, it is a question of a positive attitude that is almost unknown in my broken down country.
Apart from a brief visit to town in the morning, the rest of the day was spent at home. Mrs. Copeland heard today that one of her friends, aged about 84 years, had died, yet another of our contemporaries having departed this life. It is all very worrying, making me wonder who is next to be taken. I suppose, though, that 84 is a good innings, and we can expect no more, certainly not in firing on all four cylinders
By the fireside in the evening, reading some more of the book on Eva Braun and her relationship with Hitler. I saw in today's "i" that "staff force opera house to abandon plan for Wagner on Hitler's birthday" on the 20th April. The Führer was a great enthusiast of Wagner's music, attending the celebration of his operas after his death with Mrs. Wagner - hence the ban. Hitler also liked the music of Bruckner, while Mahler, as a Jew, had his music banned. Hitler referred to jazz as n*****'s music, having it banned throughout Germany.
SUNDAY 5 FEBRUARY
There were 3 inches of snow yesterday. Usually on a Sunday morning I go in to Lincoln to purchase Sunday papers for ourselves and a couple in the village, but today I regarded it as too dangerous to venture out. Fortunately, the husband of the couple walked in to Lincoln to buy the papers, bringing "The Sunday Times" round to our house, so that was a noble gesture that I appreciated enormously.
Not that I had a lot of enthusiasm for David Smith's comments in his "Economic Outlook" in today's "Sunday Times". Tedious though it is for me to disagree with most of what he says in his column, I cannot refrain today from opposing his comment, also made last week, that there will be "stronger growth in the second half of the year, as falling inflation boosts real incomes".
As I tiresomely point out every week, these comments make me realise that I must continue studying the degree textbook of economics that Mrs. Copeland bought for me at Christmas at the enormous expense of £55, for I cannot understand the points Mr. Smith makes. If inflation is going to fall, what is prompting that fall, one answer being that the country, faced with massive discounts from retailers, is heading into a 1930s depression, seeing rising unemployment, adding to the Government's welfare bill, and a decline in taxation revenues.
Maybe Mr. Smith should look as the "Database" on the penultimate pages of the Business section, where he would notice that manufacturing in the UK fell -0.1% last month (annual -0.6%); the adult claimant count (now the reduced and almost worthless measure of the real extent of unemployment) rose by 1,200 last month (on an annual basis a rise of 142,400), while the deficit on the global trade balance rose to -£2,66bn on the latest monthly figure from -£1,861bn the previous month - an annual -£26,750bn, indicating that low interest rates and the poorly pound (now rising a bit) have done nothing to stimulate exports, as had been hoped by the Chancellor.
As one economist pointed out last week, low interest rates are an indication of a failed economy, Japan being a classic example, not a successful one. Furthermore, the likelihood of further quantitative easing - that is to say printing money - will do nothing to promote economic growth in a global economy, certainly not if the weaknesses continue in the eurozone, which now looks increasingly likely. As I said, I obviously have a lot of catching up to do on economics.
During the morning I cleared off the snow on the gutters of the conservatory. In the snow of last year the gutters, weighed down by the ice and snow, collapsed, resulting in an expensive repair, so today's freeing was designed to prevent further expense. I also cleared our long shared drive in order to be able to drive in to town after lunch to purchase bread, having carelessly forgotten to buy a loaf yesterday.
Hard times for the snowdrops
To the Club at about 3.15 p.m. for the usual Sabbath Day tipples. Unfortunately, there were not many members present, though this decline has been noticeable during recent Sundays, probably a reflection of the decline in consumer expenditure. Nevertheless, with several like-minded people, able to talk about American foreign policy and the likely movement of inflation, it was a pleasant session. Unfortunately, I imbibed rather too freely, not taking note of my intake during a discussion on the re-emerging problems in the Falklands, and had to retire to bed after dinner. Rather a waste of an evening, but there you go, as they say these days. At least it is one way of passing a Sunday.
MONDAY 6 FEBRUARY
Mercifully there was no more snow overnight, and the thaw has set in, at least during the day. However, the forecasters are saying that there could be more snow on the way.
This morning we discovered that the sewer that we share with neighbours (a communal cesspit) was blocked. With the help of three neighbours I tried to clear the blockage, but to no avail. Eventually, we had to call out DynaRod, who came within an hour-and-a-half, discovering that a brick from the manhole structure had fallen into the sewer, blocking the pipe outlet. It was quickly cleared. An excellent service, for which we were charged £90, which between four of us did not amount to much.
This, alas, was not the end of our woes, for the female neighbour who has a crippled husband to look after slipped on the ice when getting in some logs, and in the evening, when she was taken to the hospital, it was found that she had three fracture on her left wrist. I just cannot believe that anybody could have such bad luck.
So we now have Mrs. Copeland still out of action with her broken arm, unable to drive for several more weeks, and now the next door neighbour in plaster and a sling. Obviously we will rally round, for there can never be expected any help long-term help from Social Services, unless you have no money - the usual penalty of working hard and thrift in this country, the idle having everything provided.
As a result of the increasing workload of the Alternative Parish Council (APC) that I have set up, I am thinking of appointing a voluntary clerk, and have therefore set out a job specification and an application form. The job specification will say that the person appointed will have to meet every six weeks or so to review progress; that as it is a "paperless council", no minutes are kept; and as there is no Code of Conduct to prevent free speech home truths can be freely spoken.
The application form will include the following questions:-
(1) Can you work under pressure? - Defined in the UK as working at least 3 hours a day and an occasional Friday afternoon.
(2) Do you respect district councillors? [Obviously a trick question]
(3) Are you frightened by Monitoring Officers, Democratic Officers and the Thought Police?
(4) If circumstances arise, are you prepared to face an Inquisition from the district council that will go on for several months, weighing you down with paperwork, and likely to give you hiccups with the laughter generated by a bunch of do-gooding old goats on a Grand Jury?
(5) Have you ever wasted time attending an official Parish Council meeting ?
(6) Can you name any functions other than dustbin emptying that your district council undertakes?
(7) Have you ever earned a civic award and/or been in prison?
I will have to mention that the APC is an equal opportunities employer and gives value-for-money.
Sheep may graze - with difficulty.
I had some more memory fitted into my elderly laptop computer, going to an excellent firm on the outskirts of Lincoln - Forum Computers - whose young assistant fitted the memory on the spot. The result seems much better, though I was told that the hard drive is on the blink, which I suppose is understandable for a computer nine-years-old. Obviously it has had a lot of extra work these past few months, writing letters and preparing a case for a press agency when the Inquisition is over. A new computer therefore looks inevitable, but I will try to carry on for a little longer.
Not the best of days, for as Shakespeare says: "One woe doth dread upon another's heel", and I believe he also suggested that woes come not in spies but in battalions. It makes me wonder what is going to happen next in this bad start to the year.
With the help of a neighbour, we put the handicapped neighbour to bed in the evening as his wife was incapacitated with her broken wrist. It is the first time I have ever put a man to bed, so life even seven years into Biblical time still has its surprises, usually not very pleasant ones.
Thankfully we had no more snow, but it remains very cold, freezing at nights. It makes me so thankful that we don't live in a country where they have endless snow during the winter months, making life intolerable. I suppose, though, you can say that other countries are geared up for snow, whereas in this country three inches of the stuff is enough to bring the nation to a standstill.
Still, the snow and cold weather will make a wonderful excuse for negative growth during the first quarter, Mr. Smith probably telling us that the economy would have raced ahead had it not been for the severe weather. As the old song has it: You could see to Bethnal Green if it wasn't for the houses in between".
TUESDAY 7 FEBRUARY
As my "Morning Book" before getting up, I am reading the Booker Prize winning novel by Julian Barnes "The Sense of an Ending", thoroughly enjoying it, regarding it as a worthy winner of the annual prize. It makes me wonder how anybody can spend time watching the utter rubbish on the idiot's lantern when there are such splendid books to be read.
Presumably it is a question of effort, a book taking some effort and concentration, whereas the lantern, dominated by pictures rather than text, involves no effort at all, and probably little concentration. Thank heavens I no longer have to pay the annual television licence, for it would break my heart to pay £147, or whatever the licence amounts to these days.
Mr. Barnes has a delightful turn of phrase, making me very envious of his writing style. For instance, he mentions that "The genteel social Darwinism of the English middle classes always remained implicit"; "They lived in Kent, out on the Orpington line, in one of those suburbs which had stopped concreting over nature at the very last minute, and ever since smugly claimed rural status"; and on the subject of sex with a girlfriend: "And sometimes this meant that her body would be as tightly guarded as a fisheries exclusion zone."
A visitor to one of our neighbours had her car stuck in the ice, unable to move the car out. In an attempt to help the stranded visitor, I took the traction treads ("Never get stuck in the snow or mud") that I had been given for Christmas, but they were completely useless, the cheap plastic treads braking apart. As might be expected, the treads, which were far too short and not wide enough, were made in China. Why on earth do we buy all this rubbish from China when we are perfectly capable of making a more reliable product? I suppose the answer is cheapness, yet we need to remember that old adage: "Buy cheap, buy twice."
The problem with China is that they have no concept of design and engineering, and quality control means merely sticking a label on the product in a country that relies on cheap and untrained labour and pinches most of its ideas from America. What seems so sad is that Japanese products were so reliable, whereas China has now taken over with its badly produced products, most of which do not last the year.
With Mrs. Copeland unable to drive, I took her to Waitrose at 10 o'clock, pushing the trolley whilst she selected the week's provisions. I managed to slip in a few bottles of New Zealand white wine, now recognised as the finest white wine in the world, but it is expensive.
Afterwards, Mrs. C came with me to the delightful little emporium in the nearby village of Saxilby, where we bought 5 bags of kindling wood, using about a bag a week at a cost of £1.50 a bag, which seems very reasonable. After loading up, we had a drink at a pub in the village before returning home to lunch. Most of the customers were old men, all of whom seemed to know one another. I often wish we had a local pub open all the week, where I could meet like-minded souls, and not just on Sundays at our local Club.
Snowclad fields behind our house.
In downloading e-mails after lunch, one of my friends sent me an e-mail saying that there was trouble at our little district council - the West Lindsey District Council that is now prosecuting me with the Inquisition. I looked up the BBC News website, and saw that:-
"The deputy chief executive of a Lincolnshire authority has been suspended. Adrian McCormick is responsible for finances at West Lindsey District Council. Reg Shore, leader of the Liberal Democrats at the Lincolnshire authority, revealed Mr McCormick was being investigated. West Lindsey District Council said it was a legally private matter and it would not be commenting further."
This, let it be said, is the authority that is persecuting me with an Inquisition that has been going on since October, and still has not been resolved. It is also the authority that suspended one of its planning officers last year. Maybe, though, there is no need to make any further comment.
Having finished the book on Eva Braun - a book I enjoyed immensely, I have now started on "Arctic Convoy PQ8 - The story of Captain Robert Brundle and SS Harmatris", by Michael Wadsworh, published in 2009 by Pen & Sword at £19.99. One of the members of our Saturday morning group, who will be 90 in April, took part in these Arctic convoys, having many frightening stories to tell of his ship, covered in ice, being attacked by German submarines and aircraft. I wonder if people had stress in those days or suffered from the overwork seen in district councils?
Mrs. Copeland and I had thought about going to see the film "The Grey" at the Odeon this evening, but as it was yet another cold and frosty evening we decided to stay by the comfort of the fireside. I will purchase the DVD when it come out, seeing it in the comfort and civilisation of home, instead of having to endure munching popcorners and youths with their feet on the seat in front.
WEDNESDAY 8 FEBRUARY
On the 8 a.m. news I heard that the Government, despite widespread opposition, was determined to go ahead with the National Health "reforms", which involve making the service more competitive with private undertakings. In other words, in their determination to wreck the NHS, the Cameroons are proposing to hive off profitable parts to chums in the private sector. Alas, we have to accept that the Conservatives loathe the NHS, almost as much as they hate pensioners, single mothers, the BBC, and the European Union.
Yet everything the politicians touch, whatever the party, they bugger up. Why, oh why, cannot they leave things alone, instead of interfering with services of which they have no understanding? How wonderful it would be if, in the Queen's Speech, there was an announcement that there were to be no "reforms" in the ensuing session. As it is, politicians nationally and locally can never leave anything alone, believing that they can make improvements when, in reality. everything is made worse.
There was also the news that the Chancellor was saying that we must not develop an anti-business culture by opposing bonuses to bankers and other failed organisers. You might well ask why employees need bonuses when they are paid to do a job well, mainly in the private sector. If bonuses are essential, why cannot nurses, doctors and others in the public sector also have bonuses?
The painter had to go to a funeral yesterday, so he was not here all day, but returned this morning at 8.30 a.m., having about another fortnight's work. He is doing the cloakroom today and the conservatory, and then starts on painting the parlour tomorrow, meaning that this evening I will have to take down hundreds of books. Oh the disruption. I begin to wish we had never had this home beautification. Indeed, we would not have had it had I had my way, but I suppose I have to admit that the house needed "doing"..
I mentioned on Monday that a neighbour had fractured her wrist on slipping on the snow. Subsequently, as a result of the wrist fractures, she will be unable to drive for six weeks so, in addition to serving as taxi-driver for the injured Mrs. Copeland, I took her to the hospital for a further check-up this morning. As she has a handicapped husband, unable to do anything, I just cannot believe the bad luck she has had. Fortunately, the neighbours in our little community are all rallying round to help her - one of the many advantages in living in a small and civilised community with intelligent neighbours.
I made enquiries from the firm who recently repaired my laptop with more memory about a new computer, having been told that they would be able to put in Windows XP, thereby enabling me to run the web editor that I have for the diary (it won't work on Windows 7). The firm came back with a price of £640 with a 21" monitor, which seems a bit on the high side. I will have to ponder awhile, always being reluctant to buy new products, invariably finding they are not as good as the old, though the old, like me, is on its way out..
I also telephoned Dell to see what they had on offer. Sadly, and I say this with hesitation, not wanting to be accused of racism, I had great difficulty in understanding what the Indian sounding fellow was saying, and I fear he also found it a problem to comprehend my conversation. Eventually, I was told that a desktop with a 23" screen would come to £694, so not all that different from the local estimate.
The Manor
Mrs. Copeland went to a Zumba class at the local Club after lunch, a newly formed event of this latest craze, though there were only 5 people - all wimmin - in attendance. Wimmin seems to like these exercises that include pilates and yoga, presumably helping to develop their brains and physique. I gather that few men ever take part in the events; certainly I would never want to spend time standing on my head or clearing my mind of everything.
A rather inactive kind of day. Somehow the painter painting every nook and cranny in the house puts me off any kind of activity. In the evening, preparatory to a start being made on the parlour tomorrow, Mrs. Copeland helped me to remove hundreds of books. It is going to be another week at least before the work is finished. It would not surprise me if we are featured in "Ideal Homes & Gardens" in a summer issue, especially if I can complete clearing up the leaves.
After having to move the furniture around, including having to take all the glasses out of the drinks cabinet, I settled down by the fireside to read the book on the Arctic Convoy. Not the most exciting of days, but you cannot have a funny Inquisition every day.
THURSDAY 9 FEBRUARY
I continue to greatly enjoy "The Sense of an Ending", one of the finest novels I have read for many a long year, liking many of his phrases and observations of life, especially of old age: "When you are young, you think you can predict the likely pains and bleakness that age might bring. You imagine yourself being lonely, divorced, widowed, children growing away from you, friends dying." He also makes the point that, "History is that certainty produced at that point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation."
After taking Mrs. Copeland to work (she serves as a volunteer in one of the clinics), I went shopping, having a list longer than the agenda items of our Parish Council, including several items from the market, stationery items, and various oddments. One thing that Mrs. Copeland's incapacity has made me realise is how much time she had to spend shopping, and how long it takes.
Rather annoyingly, the long shared drive that goes onto the main road in the village is still frozen over, making it too dangerous for me to venture out on the scooter, meaning that I have to use the car, facing the nightmare of parking in Lincoln, car park charges raised by the City Council nearly every other month.
Then and now
On a news-stand in Lincoln I saw that the "Daily Express", which seems to love putting the frighteners on us, had a heading saying that we were about to have another 8 inches of snow. That really will be unpleasant, for I loathe the stuff so much, especially when it thaws and makes such an unholy mess. I had predicted that it would all be gone by the coming weekend, so I could be wrong again. I think I ought to give up weather forecasting, concentrating on that economics textbook that Mrs. Copeland gave me for Christmas so that I can start to understand Mr. Smith's column in "The Sunday Times".
For lunch we had braised shoulder of lamb from Waitrose, and it was absolutely wonderful enjoyed with a bottle of Gallo white wine from California - a wine that knocked the French white wine into a cocked hat, if that is the right term. I continue to believe that lunch is the most healthy and civilised meal of the day, far better than eating in the evening.
Although it may seem presumptuous to say so, when Mrs Copeland and I went on a cruise long years ago, the Captain took us for lunch at a restaurant in Kusadasi, which lasted for two-and-a-half hours, indicating the proper way to live, as they still do in France today. However, in this country, employees boast that they only have sandwiches for a few minutes in front of their computer, before getting on with work, always supposing that they even stop.
Bearing in mind that the French have a higher productivity per man hour than our ailing trillion-pound indebted island, it could be suggested that, in order to improve economic growth and fewer mistakes, it would be beneficial if a compulsory one-hour lunch break was ordered throughout the land. There is even the prospect that the employees would be a good deal more motivated, and certainly under less stress.
This evening, providing we do not have another fall of snow, I will be joining my two sons-in-law and a neighbour for a showing of a DVD of a film - a fortnightly event that I greatly enjoy, helping to make up for the curtailment of the Film Society at the local Club.
I still cannot make up my mind what to do about buying a new computer, still feeling reluctant to give up my elderly laptop whose hard-drive is getting worse by the day. My guess is that it will pack up completely within the next few days, thereby forcing a decision on me. Fortunately, I have now managed to get a quote for a 21" screen with Windows XP fitted (thereby being able to use a number of old programmes that would not go onto Windows 7), plus a dial-up facility.
Watch out for the Thought Police! Closed minds stop thought crimes.
E-mail: johncopeland@clara.net
Lincolnshire 9th February, 2012
Comments welcomed
No. 728
Diary of a Septuagenarian<BR>
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