![[38/52] The Old Warrior Sleeps](https://farm7.static.flickr.com/6175/6171570785_2752769f1e.jpg)
Week 38 entry for 52 weeks challenge.
H the Cat dozing on my desk after a hard night down the rat mines (in his dreams). He’s rising 13 (we don’t know exactly), not as agile as he once was and is beginning to feel his age. Much like the rest of us!
Pet hates. Things which always irritate or annoy you, wherever, however and regardless of how well intentioned. We all have them! Here are a few of mine …
What will the neighbours think? I don’t give a flying wombat what the neighbours think. If they don’t like what I do then too bad. I’m unlikely to be doing anything illegal. And if they think what I’m doing is immoral then it’s they who have the problem because I’m very unlikely to think it’s immoral.
Net curtains. See above. I have nothing to hide and nothing much worth nicking. I like light. Nay, I need the light to counter my SAD. And I like to be able to look out of the window. So we have no net curtains at home, neither do we normally draw the curtains after dark. And the first thing I do in an hotel room is to work out how to open the net curtains (and if possible open the window) and let in the light. Why do I want to live in a cave?
Muzak. I detest background music: in shops, pubs, lifts — anywhere, even at home. It is pollution — like busy wallpaper — which just clogs up brain-space to no useful effect. If I want to talk to someone I don’t want to have to shout over muzak to make myself heard. And if I don’t want to talk I want quiet to allow my brain to think and concentrate or just free-cycle and relax. If I want to listen to music I’ll listen to what I choose, when I choose.
Unnecessary formality. Formality, like etiquette, is bogus and unnecessary; designed only to catch out the unwary. Certainly be polite and respectful — with everyone, according to the circumstances. But poncy dressing up and grovelling obsequiousness are not necessary. Why is it so necessary to bow and scrape to royals? Why do we require “gentlemen” (ladies are never mentioned!) to wear a suit in their club or if visiting a Duke or an Earl? They’re human like the rest of us. Isn’t it better to be normal and friendly and relaxed and treat such people as humans? None of which prevents us displaying manners and respect where it is due. If we could all just relax and be ourselves I’m sure the wheels would turn a lot more easily and need a lot less “oil”.
Being expected to take part. Why am I expected to go to things I don’t want to or dislike? This is something which was particularly prevalent at work: the annual dinner/dance; the Christmas booze-up; the annual golf match; whatever. Oh but you have to go; it’s expected. Who expects, no-one ever says. And if I don’t want to go, I’m buggered if I’m going — and no, I don’t have to tell you why I find it so objectionable; just I don’t want to go should be enough and should be respected. And the more you “expect” the less I want to go. Over the years I put more than one manager’s nose out of joint by refusing to go to work social events. If my colleagues and I want to socialise, we will; we can organise it for ourselves.
Lying. Particularly prevalent amongst politicians, adverts, religious — most of whom I’m sure deep down know they’re lying. But it also seems to be a trait of a number of cultures, especially (but not always, and not only) those of the Middle East and Asia: so often they seem to just be telling you what they think you want to hear. People don’t know, so they make it up. They imagine you won’t like the truth so they tell you something untrue (usually to try to sell you something), which I detest even more than a true answer which I happens not to be the one I’d like. Tell me the truth; I’m big enough and old enough to be able to handle it. Doing anything else does you no credit and makes me less likely to endear you to me (and if you’re selling something it’s likely illegal).
People who don’t understand the word “no”. The first rule of selling anything is to understand when the client is saying “no”, respect it and withdraw gracefully. If I say “no” and you persist then (a) you annoy me and (b) you make me even less likely to buy from you in the future. How much you think I’m mistaken in my decision/belief is irrelevant; I’ve said “no” and I mean what I say. If you persist isn’t this essentially attempted rape: rape of the mind?
Thinking about it the preceding few paragraphs boil down to a couple of other things I wrote on my list: thoughtlessness and bad manners which in turn lead to bad service. All of which can be easily avoided through one of my basic tenets: treat others as you would like them to treat you.
But in doing this you need to stay alert. Do not assume I think the same way you do. My morals may be different. My common sense will be different. My world view is almost certainly not yours. And none of those is any less valid, nor less deserving of respect, than yours.
Lastly, I’ll mention something which really gets my goat, sheep, pigs and the rest of the farmyard up in arms. People who don’t think. It is often said (and I believe there is some scientific evidence for this) that 5% of people can think and do; 5% of people actually are unable to think; but the other 90% can think but don’t bother. I do not expect everyone to have the intellect of an Einstein, Stephen Hawking or Bertrand Russell — such would be totally unrealistic. But I do expect people to use what intelligence they do have to the best of their ability. Try. Try hard. Try to understand the implications of your actions; your thoughts. Try to understand why I say/believe what I do. Try to understand why other people make the (often apparently stupid) decisions they do. It’ll make you more use to society. And you might just find it more interesting too.
What gets up your nose?
Week 37 entry for 52 weeks challenge.
As Noreen has reported on her weblog, yesterday we went to Chipping Norton in Oxfordshire in search of some of her ancestors — and just to walk the streets they walked. The Meades line was an unexpected find for Noreen, both in that they come from somewhere way away from Lowestoft but also because they are a family of stonemasons.
This is the gravestone of Noreen’s great-great-great-great-grandfather, Richard Meades, in the churchyard at Chipping Norton. He was the stonemason responsible for the work to rebuild the church tower in the 1820s. It is Richard’s stone, William MeEades who eventualy moved to Lowestoft.
Chipping Norton (or “Chippy” as the locals know it) itself is a delightful small Cotswold town built out of the local golden stone and on the side of quite a wicked hill — hardly surprising as it is supposedly the highest town on Oxfordshire. And the fact that it is on the side of hill has resulted in something quite unusual: the parish church (St Mary’s) is in fact lower down the hill than most of the rest of the old town — the main street is at about the same level as the top of the church tower.
More photos of Chipping Norton over on my Flickr photostream.
Number 9 in my monthly series of “Ten Things” for 2011. Each month I list one thing from each of ten categories which will remain the same for each month of 2011. So at the end of the year you have ten lists of twelve things about me.
Something I Like: Photography![[36/52] W8 Postbox by kcm76](https://farm7.static.flickr.com/6088/6124180045_1b5f0e9b55.jpg)
[36/52] W8 Postbox, a photo by kcm76 on Flickr.
Week 36 entry for 52 weeks challenge.
Hexagonal Victorian postbox in Pembroke Gardens, London, W8.
I love Victorian postboxes. They are always so ornate and much better designed than the modern ones.
Translated into 1960s colour using PaintShopPro.
[Fanfare of trumpets!]
It’s here! The first spin-off from this blog, my new photo book, is available at last. Yes, it’s been a well kept secret and been in gestation for quite some months, but eventually it’s here.
Here’s (some of) what I say in the Introduction:
I am fairly sure I took my first photographs with my father’s Kodak Box Brownie although I don’t know how old I was. But I do have a series of old 620 roll film images of my parents and I on holiday at a nudist club when I would have been around 9 or 10; and as the series contains one of my parents but not me, it seems reasonable to assume I took it. And I know had my first cheap camera by the time I was about 12.
I’ve been taking photographs on and off ever since. And that’s now 50 years … But this book is not really designed as a celebration of my 50 years taking photographs. It is intended only as a collection of images I like from the last few years …
I do not pretend that these are world-beating images. Nor would I claim to be an especially good photographer. I’ve had no formal photographic training, but learnt the basics at my father’s knee and by going to camera club with him as a teenager. It was more difficult then: we didn’t have cameras which did everything for us; exposures had to be calculated; every shot cost us real money to develop and print; and you had to wait days or even weeks to see your successes and failures. Like the rest of modern life photography is now cheap and instant.
My approach to photography has always been to take what I see; what interests, intrigues or amuses me. It is about trying to see things and make them into a picture …
Available now on Blurb. Not yet on Amazon, but it should be eventually.
Week 35 entry for 52 weeks challenge.
Rainbow seen from our study window. Should I be measuring the quality of the summer by the number of rainbows we’ve had this year: rainbows are probably inversely proportional to the goodness of the summer. If so then this has been an awful summer. But there have been lots of good rainbows.
![[34/52] Fire Cure by kcm76](https://farm7.static.flickr.com/6184/6084882851_efbe3943ba.jpg)
[34/52] Fire Cure, a photo by kcm76 on Flickr.
Week 34 entry for 52 weeks challenge.
Don’t ask, I don’t know! It’s just a photograph.
It’s a pretty safe conclusion that most people we come across (and likely many we don’t) think Noreen and I are Barking — if not a few stations beyond. And, in their world view, they’re probably correct. Because over the years we have come to the conclusion that we’re really not like other people. We’re eccentric — barring that we don’t walk the streets wearing silly hats or clown outfits. Just compare our modus vivendi with that of most “normal” people: 
Huh!? You mean you still think we’re sane? Oh, bugger!