Bribery and Corruption

I've been listening to and reading the reactions to the BBC's programme last night about the alleged bribing of FIFA officials in the run up to declaring for the 2018 World Cup. England are in the running and what struck me was the reaction of pundits to the proposed airing of the programme.

In a nutshell they were unhappy, thinking it would scupper England's chances of hosting the World Cup. They didn't like the timing either.

Eh?

Isn't that what investigative journalism is all about. To point the finger where evidence suggests wrong doing? There appears to be enough in the allegations to make the programme worthwhile.

And what better timing; while everyone is focusing on the thing. If they had bowed to pressure would it be worth having the competition here too? Are those pundits suggesting we should turn a blind eye to whatever shenanigans are going on.

That, to me, is corrupt. A kind of moral blackmail. It says something about the integrity of many of our pundits and public figures.

Bravo BBC is what I say.

Pity we don't see more of it especially in regard to our politicians.

As Thick as Thieves

Not in the sense of the saying either.

I got a call from a guy who had reported a combined house burglary and vehicle theft. They'd taken two motorbikes and some household stuff. He'd reported it about an hour before ringing me and was wanting an update to see if his bikes had been recovered.

A bit premature I thought. Most don't get found for some time and often burnt out.

However, on reading the log I could see why he was making the call. He'd followed the tracks from one bike to an address which he'd given us and lo and behold officers had discovered one of his bikes in the culprit's garden and had someone in for questioning.

The bike was at the end of wheeled tracks in the snow. Even Inspector Clouseau would have discovered that.

He now wanted to add that he'd got back from that expedition and done the same with the second set of tracks. They lead to a neighbour's garden. He could even see the bike 'hidden' under a blanket.

That got recovered too.

It brought to mind a child's idea of hide and seek. You know, when they sit on a windowsill with their legs dangling down thinking they can't be seen.

Except the thieves aren't children. They are adults causing distress. Thank goodness most are as thick as two short planks.

Views outside

Not very often we get views like this in November. From the Conservatory door and the front door. I haven't ventured out. In fact I won't at all today and that does feel all wrong. Poor Mrs AWB was out at 6.30 am and now the tracks from her car are covered up. Me, the man of the house, will be staying cosy and warm inside. I'll put a film on, write, blog as I am now, email, have a nice meal with some wine and generally have a lovely day.






I'll feel a little guilty too.

I've only got one 'job' to do. Waiting in for the delivery of a new dryer. Well, that isn't exactly a hardship given the state of the weather outside.

However, I will make something nice for tea and clear the drive.

Better than Christmas

Birthdays come and go. I usually enjoy them, sometimes get a little reflective. Increasingly so I think. This year was something different. A long weekend spent mostly with Mrs AWB in the leading role while Granddaughter, Daughter, Son and one or two friends made up a lovely supporting cast.

Mostly family, which made it seem like Christmas. The presents, the snow, last night's feast and so many other things. It all combined to put me in holiday mood and was perhaps the nicest birthday I can remember.

Friday; A roaring fire in an old pub and munching the biggest, crunchiest onion rings ever. A walk by a Canal and waiting for a mole to poke his nose through the cold soil. Receiving and responding to some sweet birthday wishes.

Saturday; A walk in the snow with Granddaughter and Mrs AWB. Watching Granddaughter giddy with infectious joy. Seeing a Heron quite close and very still and calling it a Crane in my blog.

Watching telly last night with Mrs AWB and Granddaughter, replete with roasties, turkey, duck and, of course, sprouts.

Today; Waving goodbye to Granddaughter from the bedroom window this morning and then trying a lovely new nightshirt on.

It didn't stay on long.

A nice quiet day. I'll put the nightshirt on soon.

Three days spent away from the world in a little cocoon of love.

A Walk in the Snow

I never cease to be enthralled by the beauty on our doorstep. People travel thousands of miles, spend thousands of pounds to find something that they cannot see on their doorsteps. They then spend the rest of the year moaning about how miserable England is and telling everyone that they would move abroad if they could.

Well here is just a little corner of England. It cost us the petrol to get there and £2.50 car park fees.

New footsteps. We were out very early. Knock an hour of the time on the photos........I'll have to adjust it on the bloody camera. Granddaughter wears her brand new winter jacket.

I have another photo of us walking holding hands from a few years ago. It's posted on an earlier piece on my blog. She has grown. We talk and exchange views now and I laugh at her humour. Very dry she is, even at eight.

See how quiet it is. Two or three people. Everyone else's loss. Our gain.

This could have been taken over a hundred years ago. It reminds me of those old sepia tinted frames from the mid nineteenth century.

An artist would not need many colours on his or her pallet.

Spot the Heron, not Crane as I'd previously posted. It is there. Look around the borders of the patch of iced over pond near the top of the picture just up from the ducks standing on the ice.

I've got photos of this scene from other times of the year. Here the snow outlines the ruins giving a completely different dimension.

One of my favourite spots of all time. The winter version.

I love it here.

The sky dominates. It seems to glare down and intimidate the land below.

Six months ago it was so different.

Where else can you see so many contrasts, so many changes all in the same place in relatively short spaces of time.

Wonderful.

By the time we left the ambience had changed. Snow had melted. More people there.

A moment in time that had been just for us.

A Moving Molehill

Some of the nicest days are those that you expect the least from. I think it's because your mind is so open that no matter what happens you will be receptive to it.

Today did have the makings of a good one though. My birthday. A day off and Mrs AWB finished early too. Even better; a beautifully bright crisp day more in keeping with mid winter than murky old November.

However we had no great plans. We went out on a speculative run. Mrs AWB had been recommended a good butcher's just South of Selby and a nice pub and canal walk nearby. Sounded promising.

It proved to be so too.

We went to get a pie or two and came out with cuts of meat that you don't see very often. Skirt being one. Oh, and the pies too. The Pub, The Wheatsheaf Inn turned out to be impressive. I had looked at the web site and thought, 'Hmmm, standard stuff' so was prepared to be met by average food.

But no. The first good sign was a fairly full car park. The next was the place full of pensioners. Mark my word, if you want a good meal that is good value too, follow the pensioners. Some regulars had booked their places; unusual in a pub. One table had a guy of about forty, a great hulking working man, with a little old lady. The reserve sign said, 'Chris and Mum'.........................wonderful.

The food was lovely..............and there was so much that we couldn't finish it. If you know me then you'll know that the plates must have been large and full. A doggy bag sits downstairs now. Excellent beer too.

And then the walk.

The light caught these swans beautifully. The one on the right had found something juicy beneath the surface. I had to be quick to get this one showing its head out of the water.

Interesting. There was another piece further on. Mixed feelings about 'Modern Sculpture'. Quite liked this. A bird theme..................I think.

It does show an interest taken by local authorities too. No bad thing. The paths were well kept and plenty of seats.


The light today was superb. It always strikes me how something so warm looking can, in reality, be very cold. The canal was iced over for much of its length.

It's that time of year. It was actually just after two and not three as the time on the photo indicates.

The subdued watery sunlight combined with the shadows are quite beguiling I think.

Shadows in a clear light draw your eye now that just does not happen in the warmer 'shadowless' months.

You can see some of the Gulls standing on the ice.

Looks like I've got some tribal head dress on eh!

First photo of me at 57!

And the title of the piece. As we approached this mole hill I noticed some movement and stopped. Soil continued to move ever so slightly. Mr, or Mrs, Mole was underneath tidying up. Never seen that. We waited for quite a while........camera at the ready. The soil continued to move teasingly but sadly no mole appeared.

We drove back in a kind of reverie, watching the shadows grow longer with each minute.

Back home I picked up some nice birthday cards, read and replied to a couple of sweet emails, got a phone call and then a visit from Daughter and Granddaughter who brought a card with 57 'x's laboriously printed in it.

A day to remember for all the right reasons.

And it's not yet seven o'clock. Cuddles and snuggles now.

....and the rest of the night.

Bliss.

Nice

Every time I post I finish up and look at what I've produced.

And then I look at 'Smile' to the right.....................she makes me smile.

Lovely.

I'm 57 now....................happy birthday me LOL.

A line to cross

As I start this post the clock on my computer gives 23.50 as the time. When I finish, it will be tomorrow. I will be a year older. I'm 56 now. In a few minutes I will be 57. In three years I will be 60..........and I could go on with the timescale thing. I won't.

Most people, by the time they get to my age, tend to look at birthdays with mostly negative feelings. I don't. I quite like the ageing process. OK, it would be nice to be me in my body as I was when I was twenty. But only out of curiosity.

I like my grey, almost white, hair. I like being called Granda. I appreciate an erection far more now when it is a little 'harder'...............crap pun intended.........to achieve. I know more now than I did at any time then. I am more tolerant.........heck, I've made more mistakes at 56 than I had at 36!........so I have to be. I have got be 56................57. Not everyone does.

And.

I do not fear death. When I was younger I did. As it probably should be. Now? The manner of it yes. But that act........No. Don't get me wrong. I do not want to die but tonight, for the first time in my life, I felt a kind of ease at the thought.

There are those of us who, at some point, welcome death. Usually the very old who have become tired of life. I think, in a way, they are lucky. They have lived their life and are happy for it to end. It represents a kind of completion.

So different from the standard 'Best way to go is in your sleep' response from many people. Not for me.

I want to know when my time comes. I want to face it. I don't want the Grim Reaper to sneak up and take me when I'm asleep and not expecting it.

I want to face it...............full on.

Biggest challenge in our lives innit................Death.

The difference..............

......................between crying and weeping. Tears can be shed in a moment. A tiny flash flood of emotion that touches the surface and can be gone in an instant, shaken off by something new.

But to weep. Have you wept? Have you experienced someone weep? That convulsing beast that takes over the whole body. Cannot be shaken off like a tear drop.

I heard someone weep tonight. I took a call from a guy in his sixties. Calm, tired, careworn he sounded. Just a simple burglary. We get loads. But to these people it was a first. Their house had been ransacked, violated.

All the while he talked to me I heard his wife in the background. Weeping. I could almost feel it. Total and utter despair. She provided a desperate backdrop to his outer calm; perhaps an expression of what was going on deep down within that man.

The contrast between the control of the man and her emotional collapse couldn't have been more striking. And more disturbing. I almost got the impression that he lingered over the call because the poor man just did not know how to face his wife, did not know how to deal with it. Maybe he was fearful that once he let go of the phone he would lose a grip on himself too.

I wondered how they would be in the morning............this morning now. Whether her collapse had lanced the wound, whether his control had clogged up his emotions that would burst forth in some other way.

The Waiting Game

I'll start work later today. That's after four wonderful days off. I'll leave about half an hour before Mrs AWB returns. She left before I got up. We cuddled briefly.

I'll get back in the early hours, climb into bed. A cuddle. She's already refused the offer of me staying in one of the spare beds. She'll wake and cuddle me in return. She always does.

Some days are like that. We've spent some lovely times together and now have a day where we see nothing of each other bar a figure moving around in the darkness; getting up for work or, in my case, getting back.

But I've heard her voice. She mine. We've talked about what we'll do when we are both off together next. I've bought something for her so she'll have the tea she wanted. We have exchanged texts. She'll leave a little welcome for me for when I return.

That's what makes the difference I suppose. Those little touches. They don't take a lot of effort but they can mean so much.

It's so easy to forget and not do this but the joy when I realise what happiness that a daft little text or a small gesture can bring makes me wonder why there have been times when I have forgotten.

Yes, I have taken for granted. I have been complacent.

No place for it, whether it be a loved one, a friend or work.

So, although I'd love to stay at home and cuddle up I'll go to my job happy and determined to do it well.

That way I'll enjoy my cuddles all the more.

Leaves on the Ground

November is one of those months universally described as dull. Grey, damp, cold. It doesn't have the vibrancy of May, the sultry warmth of August or the crisp lines of January.

It's a bit of a muddle of a month. The best autumn colours have gone, October has claimed those usually. The clear air of winter is still a little way off. I suppose you could say it is the slum end of autumn.

And yet it has its own beauty. That carpet of leaves is always best at this time; not yet blown away by the autumn weather. Trees stand around like strippers in various states of dishabille. Some are brazenly naked, some still cling coyly to their autumn clothes whilst others display a smattering tease of leaves.

The sky seems almost vague now. No grand sunsets. What colour there is seems half hearted as though nature lost interest half way through; pausing between those technicolour autumn sunsets and the striking monochrome winter skies. But that's what makes it nice. An understatement can always make a point.

We went for a short stroll, all wrapped up, to Cannon Hall. Just the two of us.

Cold outside but warm within.

The End of a Day

So, did the day pan out as planned? Well, mostly. I got my buns, made a picnic and and was off quite early. On the way I listened to music as I nearly always do in the car. Usually it is Radio 2. I know, boring; but it's easy on the ear and OK for the shorter journeys.

I decided to try something a little more atmospheric and moved to Classic FM only to be irritated by a faffy flautist fannying around with some twiddly tune that show off musicians seem to love.

Radio 3. Ah, bliss. A spiritual sounding choral piece drifted into my ear and wafted around my mind.

I got off the main Bridlington road and wound my way through very quiet lanes to my destination. Parked, got the boots on and began my little adventure.


Looking back from the first hill I climbed to the village. I'd parked in front of the church and walked past what looked like an ordinary semi with a board outside. 'Shop round the back' it said along with some info on what was sold there. I imagined rummaging through someone's pantry to buy some bread. The nearest buildings are a very noisy pig farm.

The whole place, apart from the pigs, was very peaceful.

Note; the time is an hour out. I got there before 11.00 am.

Typical views. Rolling hills with lines of trees highlighting the horizon on some of them. All interspersed with soft green valleys.

It is a very quiet area, not as popular as The Peaks, Dales or North Yorks Moors. That gives it an intimate peace of its own. I felt quite solitary and for almost all of the walk I was. Perfect for quiet reflection.


The walk is very well sign posted. There are three of them here. It is partly down to the fact that part of it covered 'The Wolds Way' but also a statement by the farmers. Keep to the paths.



In the distance you can see the only people I passed. A fit pensioner couple all kitted out with waterproofs that included those waterproof gaiters that the really keen use.

We nodded and smiled while they looked me over. The only concession I had to walking was my old walking shoes and a decent weatherproof anorak.





Another nice view up a little valley that wound away into the distance. The tops are quite flat. Very soft, almost soothing uplands here. Not like the Peaks, The North Yorks Moors or even the Dales.

One thing did strike me. As lovely as it is it is almost as man made as the city. Everything controlled and manicured. Even the wildlife was mostly for man, at least those I heard and saw on the day; Pheasants and Grouse were all over the place.





Well, I wonder what Lotharios live around here. No wonder it was quiet. they must have all been indoors shagging.


This was the cricket pavilion at the end of the walk.






Back in the village I passed this testament to trust. They had Peanut Biscuits and Parkin. I bought a pack of both.


You'd never get that back in Leeds.










Before I got to the biscuit stand I'd passed the pub. It was closed. Damn. I also passed the old couple sitting down on a bench to have their picnic. I'd eaten mine on the hoof. They offered to get up and make room for me. I'd made some friends. I declined, and bid them good bye.

Boots off, the worst of the mud removed. Shoes back on and I set back off for home happy. The book had suggested the walk take two hours. I took about and hour and a half and that was taking my time and stopping for snaps. Never understand these estimates of time in walking books.

Driving back I listened to the radio again. As my car glided down the sweeping road at the foot of Garrowby Hill Mozart's Requiem came on; The Lacrimosa. My eyes always well at that piece and goose pimples dance on my neck and upper body.

Perfect.

The rest of the day wasn't bad either.

Oh, and the Peanut Biscuits and Parkin were gorgeous.

The Beginning of a Day

A rest day it is. I have no commitments, no jobs apart from getting some eggs, so I have the freedom to paint whatever I wish on today's canvass.

I'll try an experiment. A sort of before and after. We often start the day with an image as to how it will pan out but by the time we get to the end of it, that day has taken a completely different direction from that which was intended. That assumes we planned anything to start with. Sometimes it's nice to have a day with absolutely no plans; just letting that day take on its own life, its own personality. Today, though, is a day I have plans for.

So; the intention.

I'd decided days ago that, weather permitting I'd go for a walk. A new walk. A breath of fresh air walk where I will need a map and my eyes to follow directions. Not done that for a while; all the walks being old friends. So between shifts I've been perusing a book of walks in North Yorkshire. It's the AA one and has fifty walks. I've had it for about three years.

And done one walk.

The weather seems mixed, best in the East so I've picked one that starts in Thixendale , a village in the South Eastern fringes of North Yorkshire. It's an easy walk of about four miles.

Food? Well, there is an award winning pub in the village but Mrs AWB has bought a Pork Pie and some cold meats. Perfect picnic food. I'll compromise and take a picnic but have a pint in the pub. I'll need some nice buns though and maybe a few leaves to go in them. So off the supermarket first.

Wittering.

Then back home, maybe write some and prepare a nice welcome for poor Mrs AWB when she returns from work. She's stressed out there so I'll run a bath and give her a massage. She does that for me sometimes when she isn't working and I am.

That's the plan.

Tonight, it will be interesting to see how it pans out. I'll read this and put myself back in the mindset I have now, wrapped in my post-bath towels and compare it with what actually happens.

Oh yes. Another part of the plan; to sit here tonight with a glass of whisky after a lovely day.

Less than a week.

That's what it took.......to get my first rejection from a prospective agent.

It was an email submission and rejection. Here it is;

Dear John,

Many thanks for sending us this proposal, which I read with interest. I considered it carefully but I’m afraid on balance it just doesn’t quite grab my imagination in the way that it must for me to offer to represent you. So I must follow my instinct and pass on this occasion. I’m sorry to be so disappointing, but thanks for thinking of us. Of course this is a totally subjective judgement, so do try other agents and I wish you every success.

Kind regards

I include it not just for 'the record' so to speak but also to show that rejection can be handled deftly and with sensitivity. I was impressed with the speed of the response too. In fact when I saw the email I was quite hopeful. Surely they've got back SO quickly because it's good news!

Alas no.

Am I disheartened? Well, yes and no. I didn't seriously expect the first response to be..............."Oh, John, we love it".............but I did sort of hope.

There will be more rejections, for I think that to get my first stab at a novel to be published is expecting a lot. It's all part of the learning curve and has given me more incentive to get on with my next project.

I like writing you see.

It could be your daughter

My very last call today.

A mother rung with the following scenario;

Her 18 year old daughter had been inveigled by a female 'friend' to get into a car with two males and was driven to their house. The 'friend' disappeared to have a shag whilst the males tried to ply the caller's daughter with drugs. She refused. More males came to the place. They threatened her. Take the stuff or else!

The caller's daughter realised the potential danger................a moment arrived when the front door was free and she ran..........got a taxi home.

Phew!

Then she got threatening phone calls. They know where she lives.

Creepy.

The girl was still shaken the night after this happened.......so was the mother.........my heart went out to them.

There is evil in this world.

A man with connections

I got a call today from an earnest sounding man.

Here is a shortened resume of the call;

'I need an officer to visit me' he said.

'Why?'

'I've a problem with the government'

'Oh', alarm bells were clanging away, 'Why is that?'

'I can't say over the phone'

'Our lines are secure, this is the Police' I reassured him, unsure of the validity of my statement.

'Someone from the government is trying to get friendly with me. I don't want it'

'Oh, who?'

'Someone very high up. I need to speak to an officer about it'

'Surely if this person is trying to be friendly........well, it shouldn't be a problem, should it'

'I'm an insurgent and a communist. This has been going for years and I want it to stop. I need to speak to an officer'

'I cannot involve an officer if I don't have some idea as to who it it is.' I reassured him again about the confidentiality.

He paused............'OK, it's Prince Philip'

'Oh'.......a pause to gather my thoughts,'Well there isn't a problem then'

'Oh?'

'Well, everywhere he goes he has Police officers with him. You can speak to one of them if he turns up'

'Oh' deflated this time. 'You'll make sure they'll know to have a word with him?'

'Of course'.............I actually regretted telling him a lie, the only lie of our conversation.

A Conversation

Mrs AWB had been shopping. Friday night.

I must say Thornton's toffee and a good Whisky go rather splendidly together.

Granddaughter hovered near the toffee.

'Go on then', I said after a teasing delay. I gave her a large piece of the chewy golden stuff.

'That'll shut her up', came from Grandma.

'What, one piece of toffee?', I said in mock surprise.

'Two peeshes would be better' blurted a smiling Granddaughter.

Consequences

A follow on from the last post.

I went to a team training day today. It was mostly sleep inducing stuff with one or two nuggets of interest. The main interest being the 'review' that the Force is having to undergo. Coming from the private sector redundancies and the rest come as no great shock - I have been made redundant before - but to institutions like the Police it is proving to be very difficult.

The grade above me is the one currently getting their letters advising them that they may be at risk. Within a few short weeks they will learn who will be safe so the management is trying to get the thing done as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

Today we were told that the next tranche would be our grade; the basic Call Handler. It came as no surprise. I'm not worried either; given the criteria I'll probably survive.

I say probably.......for this is all down to you and me. We can blame the bankers and yes, they did allow it. But what did they allow? They allowed you and me to buy stuff on credit....mainly houses, but other services too........that we did not really have the money for.

We asked. They gave. A failing on both sides of the equation.

When all this is done the Police will be leaner. Maybe more efficient........but............I can't help wondering if the fewer of us that are left will have to work that bit harder.

And if there are fewer of us there to do the same job I wonder if calls will take that little bit longer to answer..............if maybe where a life might be saved now it may not be in the future.

And why?

All because we asked for more credit....................and all because we gave more credit too...........because people allowed people to buy now and pay later!

We blame the bankers but they are people. People caused this; people like you and me.

Where will it end

I have two bank accounts. My main one I have had for years and have always been very happy with the service. It is a reputable bank that wasn't caught up with the recent financial crisis. It didn't have to be bailed out by you and me so that its directors could continue to filch enormous pay packets.

Whilst self employed I negotiated a larger than normal overdraft facility. Income was up and down and sometimes it came in useful. Now that I have a regular employed income plus my pension I have been reducing this facility when it comes up for renewal. That's in November; now.

I got my letter yesterday. I expected to see the usual notification of expiry and a note explaining that if I wanted to have a larger than normal overdraft I'd have to ring for approval. I was expecting to reduce it further and happy to do so. I never take it anywhere near the limit these days.

But no.

My existing special limit will be extended automatically and more; they were offering a bigger overdraft facility than I'd ever had.

Why? I don't need one. It isn't a business account or, as it was formally, a personal account run by someone who has a business with variable income. It does not make sense.

I could, if I wished, take it up and have a very extravagant Christmas using other peoples' money. Many would do that.

It does beg the question doesn't it. If a reputable bank is prepared to throw other peoples' money at me to maximise its profits just where this could end.

We live in a society where owing money is not seen as a problem. I think it is. Taking cash, or taking a service without paying for it is selfish; it is the 'having your cake and eating it' attitude. It is done too easily.

Banks not only condone this but encourage it and all it will take is another panic in the markets for the whole thing to collapse.

We got away with it by the skin of our teeth last time and only because we mortgaged ourselves up to the limit. A bit like a lot of my old clients. And like them I don't think we have learnt our lesson. Those clients would carry on as before and then expect to be able to be bailed out again.

Only problem; their equity ran out. I wonder if we are still trying to live as we did before without that huge debt that we were slowly amassing. As a society, as individuals, we seem to be still wanting what we had and still wanting to carry on as before.............on credit.

I wonder if our equity will run out. I wonder if, in generations to come, our current state will be seen as the first phase to a revolution that we have not even begun to imagine.

A Child's Mind

We picked Granddaughter up from school today, a regular and enjoyable past-time and once home settled into the routine of tea and kid's programmes.

It's that time of year when the adverts are full of expensive, pointless toys that will keep a child interested for maybe half a day and of course always seem to need at least three batteries.

Amongst the adverts was one for a much older game; Pictionary. It was the one advert that caught her eye. She got the gist of it too and was soon drawing pictures for us to guess.

The theme appeared to be 'beans' for some reason. The first was a tin with one bean drawn on it; a tin of beans.

Then she drew a banana shaped thing; a bean? No.

The answer was The Unbearable Likeness of Bean . Apparently a quote from Friends which in turn was a play on the title of a film; The Unbearable Lightness of Being .

Sophisticated? Well, it sounded so but one has to wonder from an eight year old. She had remembered the line; Friends is probably her favourite show on TV at the moment.

We did a double take.

Biting the Bullet

Well, I've done it. Sent a submission package off to two more agents via e-mail and a third is ready and waiting to post.

Gulp.

Along with the first agent I sent my stuff off to six months ago they make four in total; enough to hope for a response within a reasonable time and not so many that I lose track or the agents think I'm taking the piss.

I've been above board and told each one what I am doing............they ask on their websites.

The criteria for my choices? The ones with friendly looking and helpful websites and looking at a wide range of genres.

It's in the lap of the gods now.

DIY

I've never professed to be a handyman. When neighbours have been crafting some wondrous creation in their hand-made workshops I have been drinking wine, watching the telly or reading a book. Anything but pick up a screwdriver.

OK I cook and I garden. But that's because I enjoy them. I'd wear a pinny with wellies before I donned a tool belt.

So it was with some trepidation that I agreed to put up some shelves today. A simple job. Only two of them as you can see.

It is with enormous pride that I can actually show them to you. They are still on the wall. Things don't roll off.

......and they tell a story about what we store in our 'Yoot' as we call it; utility room to you.

Alcohol, paints, pop, washing up stuff, cereal, tools and other day to day stuff that some would keep in the kitchen, workshop or stuffed away in a drawer.

Pretty Food

I'm doing a roast today with all the trimmings. Beef and Yorkshires. Roast tatties and parsnips with steamed sprouts and carrots. I like to vary things so I'm also adding some Shallots roasted in Balsamic vinegar and for a bit of fun I got some different coloured carrots .

We'll have cream, yellow and apricot coloured ones. Cut into discs they are almost too pretty to eat. A Carrot Kaleidoscope.

Food should be fun......................well, not just food either.

However I think I'd hesitate at pink sprouts; now they just have to be green.

There are times.........

.......when a day can slide by and develop a spirit, an essence within it that you would never have detected at the outset.

I knew today would be nice. The light was clear and....well.......precise. That beautiful light that you only get at this time of year. Crisp yet warm; an almost impossible combination when you try to imagine it yet something that just seems so natural when experienced. The autumn colours, in part, I think.

We went to Harrogate to wander the streets full of posh shops. Bijouled was the highlight. A friend had flagged it up to me and when I looked at the site I knew that Mrs AWB would love it.

She did.

A funny little pink shop on the outside it was devoid of pretension; unlike so many Harrogate establishments. And devoid of silly prices too. We chatted to the owner and her partner; a couple of hippyish characters who loved what they were doing and we bought some bits and pieces. A warm place. I got some valuable insights into present buying; something fraught with stress for me.

Two hours shopping is enough for me, unfortunately for Mrs AWB who has the shopping constitution of...........well, I'd better not say an Ox but I think you can get my drift. We broke off for some tea and cake. Not Betty's ; why queue? I still remember the chocolate cake I had.

Back home we cuddled and snuggled; a decadent thing to do mid afternoon but hey............is there anything nicer. And then settled to dips and crisps and Pizza...............and wine. And snuggled some more.

She's gone to bed. Smiling.

Now I'm here tapping away feeling a little spoilt for I do not really know what I have done to deserve so much happiness, so much love and so much giving.

Fire in the Night

It came and went last night; Bonfire Night. That strange tradition we have where people gather to watch a great big fire and a firework display.

Dependent on the weather it's odd to have such a tradition in November, in the UK, late in the day. Some years it's just not worth the effort. But when the wind is largely absent and the rain stays away then it has a primeval charm all of its own.

We used to set off our own. Not now. You pay an arm and a leg for a few squibs whereas the public displays are far grander, safe and free.

So off we went, accompanied by hundreds of others. There is something comforting about joining a throng all going to the same place with a common purpose in mind.

The venue we go to is Middleton Park to the South of the city. Set in a large working class estate the park is nice, well looked after and the perfect spot for a bonfire and accompanying fireworks.

The whole estate is set on higher ground than the city itself and on the walk to the park we caught glimpses of Leeds between the houses, lit up with fireworks leaping into the night sky like a psychedelic war zone as the bangs and cracks filled the sky.

Granddaughter lead the way at a blistering pace. We'd just had a lovely takeout so puffed our way behind her but kept up; just. We were channelled into the arena-like spot where they had a pile of old timber ready to light. At seven precisely a glow inside told us the thing had started and after a flurry of billowing smoke that gave us a clue as to where was the best place to stand, well away from any smoke or sparks, we saw the flames start to claw they escape to the night sky. Wonderful. A raw energy that only fire can impart. No wonder it separated us from the rest of the animal kingdom; we humans being the only ones able to control it.......sometimes.

For half an hour it displayed its power before calming a little and passing the baton onto the man-made part of the display.

Bangs, crackles, pops and all sorts of strange sounds designed to delight. The slope of the park and the trees to our rear gave a kind of double whammy effect as the noises were bounced back to be appreciated not just the once but a second time too.

And the colours. How beautiful they were. A contrast to the naked energy of the fire itself we ooed and aaghed as we took it all in. By eight it was finished after a cacophonous climax of rasps and rips that were added to the pops and bangs all in a kaleidoscope of reds, greens, blues, warm gold and vivid silver thrown into the night and sprayed on that black pallet before falling to earth in a shower of fading colour.

The throng left. Dispersed as we said hellos and goodbyes to people we knew.

Until next year.

Epiphany

Funny how the mind works.

Two and a half years or so ago I got the writing bug. I wrote a fair number of short stories and then embarked on a novel and, to my surprise, finished it. That happened in all of eighteen months and for the last year I have done very little apart from research agents and send it off to one. One only. That was back in May. The agent's website stated that there was a six week turnaround so I thought I'd wait for my first rejection slip and see how I'd feel before trying anymore.

The six weeks came and went and turned into twelve. I sent an email. Just a nudge. I got a fast response, within hours, apologising and explaining that she was well behind in her reading. Oh well, at least she'd had the decency to get back to me. I left it at that for, with the change of job and personal stuff, I have had a lot to distract me.

But now?

I go to work and take it all in my stride. No new challenges there anymore other than the strange stuff that comes in on a day to day, shift to shift basis. My personal life is steady and sweet.

My imagination has been wandering; looking for new challenges.

Last night I woke up and thought about my novel. Hmmm.........must send it off to other agents, I thought. My target is to get my first rejection slip! Hah! That's one way of preparing for the negatives. More importantly I got to thinking about the second novel I started. I've only done the first chapter, a rough draft of the second and, I think, a tentative start on the third.

I like that first chapter. However, it fizzled out after that as life took over and I haven't really thought about it since. Distraction rather than writer's block. Until the small hours of today. A dawning. An epiphany. The second chapter and more grew within my mind and I know how to take it forward.

It's exciting. A new world to play with and while I do that I can develop my apprenticeship by pursuing agents with my first attempt. Within my mind I quite like that idea for the rejections I expect from that first apprentice novel will be easier to take as I develop the second.

I'll be able to say to myself as I open those envelopes................'Ah, but wait 'til you see the one I'm writing now!'

OK. a kind of kidology. But so what, if it gives me the incentive to move forward and helps me cope with rejection why not?

Presents

It's approaching that time of year.

Last night as we were climbing into bed Mrs AWB got a text from Prodigal Son. He was asking for ideas about presents to get for us. This is the man who, until, quite recently would lecture us on how presents and cards for birthdays and Christmas meant nothing to him. So, irrespective of whether it meant anything to anyone else, he never got us anything.

He didn't even get his mother a fiftieth birthday card.

Now we have a turnaround hence my name of 'Prodigal Son;. He is courting. He is in love. He is loved by someone other than his parents and now seems to understand what love is all about. It has to be reciprocated to work. And suddenly he has accepted us for what we are. No judgement of us at all.

He's coming round on Sunday and we can't wait to see him and his loved one. He says he can't wait too. How lovely. And what a change. I'll enjoy shopping tomorrow for all the stuff to create something special.

Back to presents; I'm crap at buying them. I'm like him. I need prompts and ideas to trigger something off. I feel guilty that I cannot easily latch on to what someone likes or dislikes. Does it mean that I don't love them enough? That I am not interested enough to remember what they like or dislike or that I'm not in love enough that I can tune into their preferences?

I don't think so. My love is based on complete acceptance. A friend once told me that one thing they liked about me was that I accepted that friend as they were and didn't judge. I do not judge those who I love and because I do not judge them I don't really sit down and analyse their likes and dislikes. I accept whatever they say, whoever they are and move on. I form a picture of them without looking at the detail based on my instinct and intuition.

Mrs AWB is more given to judging a person. A good balance to me in some ways. She will go into the detail of a person. She has thought about what I like and don't like and can come to a conclusion as to what to buy for me for birthdays and Christmas. Details that I miss.

The net result is that some of my efforts have been a disaster whilst she nearly always hits the spot.

So, like 'Prodigal son' I'll need a list...........although a friend has promised me some links to something that might be of interest...............I'll hound that friend until I get them.

Music

I cannot play a note on anything remotely musical. I've been told I have a nice speaking voice but when I try to sing it suddenly morphs into an ungainly monster that is best put back in its cage.

Maybe that's one reason I like music so much; the fact that it is such a mystery as to how it is created. How a piece of wood or metal can be turned into an instrument that, with the addition of a beautiful mind can be made to appeal so much to our senses. How the voice can be turned into such an instrument too.

You notice I use the plural of sense. Senses not sense. For to me it is not just the ears that provide that avenue into my mind it is, on rare but wonderful occasions, touch too.

How often have you listened to something that has got the hairs on the back of your neck reacting in a way that is usually reserved for the physical, be it the brush of a lover's fingers or the breath of a Spring breeze?

I do not get that physical reaction from things my eyes see. I do not get it through my senses of smell or even my taste. The latter surprises me, given my love of food - reminds me; I'm cooking later.

But sound! Yes, that can affect me physically. All of us. Take the obvious example - nails screeching across a blackboard - eeuuugh!!

The sublime beauty of a sound, usually music or song that can send shivers of pleasure coursing through your body can be one of the most enthralling things that can be experienced.

The senses are like an ingredients list. There are only five but if you can combine them then whatever it is you are experiencing can only be enhanced, just as in any recipe.

Where one sense can have such a direct effect on another, as in sound and touch for me, then you can enter something almost otherworldly.

Hmmm........let's get to some memories.

I remember the first time I heard Led Zeppelin. I was with my two best friends one sunny day in the bedroom of one of them. He had a big brother who we all looked up to as the font of wisdom and manhood. We will have been sixteen, the brother all of nineteen. Brother had bought the first album; Led Zeppelin 1 and his younger brother had been allowed to listen to it and was so struck by it that he brought it out for us to listen to in awe-struck silence. I still remember the effect. Some of the tracks had a physical effect. We sat cross legged on the floor in a kind of 'we are not worthy' reverie and the sound carried through my balls right up my torso.

Later I bought my first LP; The Best of Cream . By now I was fully into getting the best out of the sounds and sound systems I had access to. Unfortunately, the sound system we had at home was a Mono Player. I'd play my LP but no matter how loud it was I could not feel as though I was a part of the music. It didn't enter my being in the way that I wanted it to. I wanted that music to be a part of me, not just an external noise that maybe got a few goose bumps.

I devised a plan. I'd lie on the floor with my head under the player and feel the vibrations through the floor. Even better, I created an enclosed space by putting more record sleeves around the sides so I could place my head in a kind of music cavern. It was wonderful and served as my favourite way to experience music until dad bought some headphones.

Even now my favourite way to 'feel the noise', not just listen, is through headphones.

A Clean Canvass

Each day can be one of those can't it. I like the first day of my 'Rest Days'. They usually come in batches of three or four and the first one is nearly always left open. I don't plan anything other than maybe some small tasks that take little time. The rest is spent soaking up and enjoying the freedom to do absolutely nothing if that's what I choose.

Today is such a day. In fact it's better for I've got a whole nine days off. One of the beauties of my job is that you can take the smaller 'sets' of shifts off and have a decent break for the sake of using three or four days leave, once you add in the rest days at either side.

Oh, getting boring.....yawn.

So, back to today. When I read this in the future I'll have this image of me sitting here, wrapped in towels after my morning bathe and contemplating the day ahead.

Putting some shelves up? Definitely not. That's a job for next week. Printing my novel's synopsis and sending it off - the agent I've sent it off to still hasn't responded - hmmmm, not today. A walk? Nah..............looks a bit iffy outside and I've started reading a new book. A little shopping? Yes, got some bits and pieces to get.

Ah, the book and some wine.............while most other people are at work. A lazy day. Sounds good to me.........but I may change my mind.

I like having things planned. I've said so before. A good friend tomorrow to look forward to. Cooking for my son on Sunday is another. I'll even enjoy putting those shelves up.

But the rest of the days? Oh how lovely. I'll ponder that as I wander around the shops this morning.

I'll take my time though. That fresh, bare canvass looks so inviting and it is tempting to fill it with stuff. However, once filled there is little left for your imagination. It's there. Planned. Filled. The picture for the days ahead drawn.

You can imagine a blank canvass filled with whatever you have in your mind.

Every picture tells a Story

I've updated the photo of Granddaughter to the side and added another. She'll be nine in February and is beginning to blossom. I have the top one on my phone and can't stop looking at it.....I know; the silly doting Grandfather.

......and in the background you can see the telly with some jewelry on it. That's a story in itself.

Those photos lift me every time I open my blog.