Aw Diddums

Mood: Sad
Listening to: Tinnitus

I am moving my blog to WordPress. It will take me a longish time to get all my posts across as I don't think I can export them from here the usual way, especially as the feeds here on Blogigo have vamooshed.

If you are curious about Aw Diddum's old posts, you can always wander across to WordPress and see them as they come up... I'm starting from the very first post and moving on up. it's a great opportunity for me to edit the trail of verbiage I left in my wake during the glory days of Blogigo.

Presumably I won't be able to transfer visitors' old comments across, though I would if I could. Bummer.

I will continue to post any thoughts that come to mind, but not here - not any more. I'll put them on my Emergency Blogspot - that's what it's there for, after all, and it still has a feed!

See you there (and eventually here as well!)

Happy Christmas and festivities to everybody - it's been grand here on Blogigo but I must move on.

Mood: Getting on and climbing out of my fog of funk
Listening to: Bee Gees tape

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Sighing
Listening to: James Galway: The Man with the Golden Flute

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Happy - just found a half-eaten Mars Bar on my desk
Listening to: 'American Pie' by Don McLean

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Grumping because captions didn't show up on ITV2's 'The Beach'
Listening to: Peace

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Slightly hungry
Listening to: House buzzing very quietly

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Slightly worried
Listening to: House murmuring very quietly

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Slightly down
Listening to: Nothing in particular

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Freezing cold (my painter came and is working on the doors)
Listening to: Rattling noises from the porch

This blog post has been moved to my current WordPress blog and can be found here.

Mood: Distracted
Listening to: Washing machine

This blog is in the process of moving to WordPress. This post can be found there.

Apologies for the long silence – things have not been all that quiet behind the scenes at Diddumsville. There's a possibility I will move (houses, not blogs) but my mind is not yet set. More on that in time.

Meanwhile, it's been a while since I've posted any Junk Shop Finds, and one of my most recent is a 'must'. In Sue Ryders, the hook nose and spooky 'ears' of this wooden owl caught my attention, and I picked it up for a closer look. On the underside of its perch is a sticker: 'Guaranteed hand made by Suffering Moses, Srinagar-Kashmir (India).' It was £2 but is one of those items that you put down, pick up, put down, step two paces away from, then whirl back to grab it. It's smooth to the touch and well-finished, and I like the look of it. When I got it home, I didn't set it down in a dusty corner and forget about it – I sat and stared at it for a long time.

I was intrigued about who or what this Suffering Moses might be; a search via Google turned up several links. It's apparently a craft shop in India owned by an artisan.

Why 'Suffering Moses?' This blog page by Jawahara Saidullah provides a clue. (I couldn't find a way of linking to the individual post, but it's there, just a little way down).
Srinagar - the eternal building site (some fascinating observations).

I feel now as though I've stumbled upon an Aladdin's lamp – there's a little bit of history and magic there. Maybe if I rub the owl three times and whisper in his ear, he'll grant me a wish or six.

Mood: Snorting
Listening to: Nothing

This blog is in the process of moving to WordPress. This post can be found there.

I have been looking on-line at the spellings supersede and supercede. There are a lot of claims that supercede is incorrect, whereas the Oxford English Dictionary (unless this information is out of date) claims that supercede is valid and disputed rather than incorrect.

'Disputed' it could well be, because so many spell it that way - and not without reason.

A comment on this site says that the Scots used superceid.

I do have a preference for supercede - but that's probably because I'm a cantankerous Scot who was brought up to spell it that way.

Just as I dialled up to check a few sites on the subject, thinking 'dictionaries, dictionaries' to myself, my eye was caught by my daily horoscope. It said:

The dictionary may define an obstacle as 'a person or thing that obstructs progress,' but today any obstacles you face will have quite the opposite effect. When someone tells you 'no' today, all you'll hear is a challenge to change this person's mind. You are up to the task, and you're eager to make all obstacles disappear.

Good. It's supercede. Diddums has spoken.

Mood: Starving
Listening to: Nothing

 

Moving this blog to WordPress. This post can be found there.

I have seen this book meme around a few times and nobody was tagging me for it, mostly because they don't know me. Today I thought I could do it anyway - and then I dropped in to visit Pacian at Space Cat Rocket Ship, and he tagged everybody who visited! So here's my excuse.

1. One book that changed your life.

They probably all changed my life by degrees, influencing my thoughts or giving me fresh inspiration. I can't think of a single book that changed my life more than any other. Nothing pushed me down a specific career path. I didn't want to become a vet after reading If Only They Could Talk by James Herriot, nor did I decide to become a secret service agent and circus acrobat after reading E. E. 'Doc' Smith. Maybe I'm not all that impressionable, and found it easy to see past the glamour to the gore, hard work and sadness, or maybe I've always been more interested in writing than living...

2. One book that you've read more than once.

Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell. Slim, old, English. Amusing and sad. Must have read it four times or so.

3. One book that you'd want on a desert island.

Something fat and entertaining that I've never read before. Or the complete set of books by Jean M Auel. Or something that would tell me how to build a rudimentary shelter, or how to crack open coconuts without losing the juice. I would want a complete library on this desert island, as well as some blank journals in which to write about my experiences.

4. One book that made you laugh.

Merry Hall by Beverley Nichols. It's attractive, refreshing, funny, and very English. I suggested it to an informal Book Club. Most of the other members lived in America and said they went to their libraries and couldn't obtain it, as it wasn't available. Some of them tried to buy it and discovered it wasn't cheap. So they gave up, which was disappointing - but one determined lady returned to her library and said she would like to read this book if they ordered it in - and they did! She took it home and read it, and so did her husband, and she said she's glad she went to all the trouble as it was just their cup of tea.

The Book Club fizzled out quite quickly because nobody ever seemed to want to get a recommended book for this reason or that (I found a surprising number of the books in charity shops or on eBay, so it wasn't that difficult) - but I still feel something important was accomplished... there's a library out there that has a good book in stock because of this short-lived club and because of a member who wouldn't give up.

5. One book that made you cry.

Jennie by Paul Gallico. Fantasy novel about cats. Very charming, detailed, interesting and sad.

6. One book you wish you had written.

The Unlikely Ones by Mary Brown. Fantasy. I wasn't expecting much from it as it had just fallen into my hands in a bundle of unwanted paperbacks... but it was imaginative and charming, and I'm not going to give it away!

7. One book you wish had never been written.

A few rather dark books I got rid of so quickly I can't even remember what they were called or who wrote them. I do this with horror books, especially cruel or satanic ones.

8. One book you're currently reading.

Only yesterday I finished Make Room! Make Room! by Harry Harrison (a slim science fiction novel which should be required reading for everyone. I wrote a little about it here). Have just started Mukiwa: A White Boy in Africa by Peter Godwin. In the preface he says Mukiwa is intended as a memoir rather than an autobiography.

9. One book you have been meaning to read.

One I got recently which I've had my eye on for some time and still haven't begun is The Magicians' Guild by Trudi Canavan. It's the first book of a fantasy trilogy.

I tag.... well I'll opt out like Pacian and tag every visitor to this blog who hasn't already done this particular meme. Aw, go on.

Lunch time....!

PS: Pacian pointed out he is reading more than one book at present. Actually, so am I, but I was too embarrassed to say. The other book I'm reading is beside my bed. It's Paddington Marches On by Michael Bond.

Mood: Sleepy
Listening to: Nothing

 

I'm moving my blog to WordPress. This post can be found there. 

At last the cats in town have their owner back and M. is walking Thundercloud, so I have the afternoon off from pet-minding. When I was walking Thundercloud on Sunday, I noticed the burn is so low it has almost stopped moving in one place. A slight scum is forming on the surface like it does on a pond. It's good that it's been raining again, though it hasn't done much of that today - just looks grey and sullen.

I recently had a close brush with another road user. I decided to draw a diagram of the scene to help people cluck their tongues in sympathy, but after raiding Paintshop Pro's library of images I ended up with a ridiculous illustration instead. It gives the general idea of what happened, though.

I should not tar all cyclists with the same brush. It's just like in any other walk of life, where there are always good, average and bad. There must be very considerate cyclists around - if they're good, you don't really notice them. On Monday, though, I met one of the rather less good.

Traffic on one side of the road halted at the roadworks. I was walking on the pavement on the other side, facing any on-coming traffic. The pavement isn't very wide - there's just about room for two people walking abreast.

There was a lot of overhanging foliage from someone's garden so I was about to swing out to the outer edge of the pavement to avoid it. A bicycle which was ON the pavement thundered past me from behind. Going very fast, wrong side of road and all. Obviously didn't want to wait at the roadworks like everyone else, but at the same time didn't want to risk a head-on collision with a car coming the other way - so chose to put me at risk instead.

While the cyclist sped off, I was left wondering where he got such confidence from. How did he know I wouldn't suddenly swing over into his path? Did he assume I could hear him coming? Why did he go so fast? Couldn't he have got off the bike and walked? Why even bother asking questions? Presumably he knows he's breaking all the rules.

Do other people hear bikes coming - do the cyclists ring their bells and think that will be enough? I don't know if other people can hear them or not - all I know is that I can't, and I'm really fed up with having to look anxiously over my shoulder every ten minutes just in case some fool like that is cruising along without a care in the world. I can't afford to let my guard down - the day I do will be the day trouble strikes from behind.

If you're wondering about the skeleton in the picture, I couldn't find a bike in Paintshop Pro's collection, so the skeleton seemed the next most apt image to use...

Mood: Mood not improved
Listening to: Nothing

 

The Aw Diddums blog has moved to WordPress. This post can be found there. 

Anybody else notice this news item from The Scotsman about Scots losing business because of the sides they take (or don't take) in the World Cup? I wonder if it is happening anywhere else? It's a hot topic... when I read that news article there were at least 98 comments at the foot of it.

What I see is a company taking business away from another company who, as far as I'm aware, have said nothing at all about which teams they are supporting in the World Cup (and it's probably a fair mixture). That seems a shame to me.

As a child I was clueless when it came to supporting one's own nation. We were watching It's a Knockout! – a wacky obstacle-course sports thing with different countries participating. My sister said "I support the team with GB on their backs."

I was too young to know that GB stood for Great Britain, or what the other letters meant – all I knew was that my sister supported GB, so I had to find a team of my own to support. That way it was more fun and maybe I could beat her. I thought the letters CZ looked nice, so I chose that. CZ and their small Scottish supporter didn't do particularly well, as far as I remember. But that's the name of the game.

Mood: Fretful
Listening to: Ghostly song: 'Same Old Scene' by Roxy Music

 

The Aw Diddums blog has moved to WordPress - this particular post will be found here. 

On Saturday I was tramping along in the hot sun, N's dog Thundercloud at my side. I was thinking about the fragility of human relationships. In some nothing seems to be wrong but they fall apart anyway. All it takes is for one person to lack drive, to fear commitment, or to believe they can have something better with different companions. And yet there's nothing wrong with living apart – we cannot own each other. It's enough that people get along and give aid or friendship when needed.

Before that I had been thinking about the impermanence of other things. Nothing that we have thought, said or done will survive for all time. Only if humans somehow survive into infinity will a selection of our works and knowledge accompany them. But if the human race dies, everything we have created also dies.

While on that topic, there are the individuals – the plants, animals and people, dying one by one. It's terrible to think of those we love just ceasing to be, yet immortality would be a terrible thing. Reproduction would have to cease if we didn't want to live on each other's shoulders, eight miles high.

I tried to imagine another world where every soul who has ever lived continues existence in more or less that form. How do they find the room? It must be full by now. It's crowded enough where we are – how much worse would it be in this other world?

Still musing about doomed relationships and the fleeting nature of people and things, I passed a tiny, beautifully tended Japanese-style garden. Something about it was just too perfect and too manicured to be true.

"Somebody went to a lot of trouble with that patch of earth," I thought, "and yet will be fighting with weeds and grass popping up where not wanted, and eventually will get tired of it and change it, or sell it to someone else who will dig up the whole thing and plant potatoes. And one day maybe it will all be barren land with rocks and scrub as far as the eye can see – no trace of this little place. Nothing lasts forever."

And there it was – that phrase, the one that connected everything I'd been thinking. A song I loved as a teenager came welling out of a shadowy corner of my memories. I played it repeatedly in the house we left a long time ago in a town we no longer see. People and animals lived in that house who are long since gone. I haven't thought about this song for years – and there it was in my head as though I'd been listening to it only yesterday.

Up till then I had just been trudging and thinking in a dull kind of way, but suddenly something changed. There was joy and rediscovery, mixed with sadness.


Bryan Ferry!


I loved that singer. Did he think about the same sort of things? When did he just fade into my past and remain forgotten? When did I become somebody else?


This song has been in my head ever since that moment and I don't want to let it go. It reconnects me to my past and brings perspective to the present.

For now it's the same old scene – but nothing lasts forever.

Mood: Thoughtful
Listening to: Nothing

I've moved my blog to WordPress. This blog post can be found there. 

I'm not usually stuck for words.

Normally I'm overflowing with observations, discoveries and commentary. There's something discouraging about the word 'disablism' - something slippery and out of reach. It's as though I don't have access to it even as a word. In my mind's eye it has a pale green glass surface and hovers coldly above me.

It can't possibly have anything to do with me - it's such a stark and unforgiving word, and I'm only me - daughter, sister, friend, neighbour. A real person with two cats and a mortgage.

I used to be 4, sitting on a boat in the sun. I drew pictures of fish, houses and trees, and played with Matchbox cars and Lego. When I was 6, I was in the Brownies - my favourite game was 'Traffic Lights'. When I was 8 I had a tortoiseshell kitten called Bluebell. When I was 15 or 16, my favourite pop groups were UB40 and OMD. In High School I was top of my class in English - people raised their eyebrows and told me deaf people were usually better at Maths. That didn't make sense to me and still doesn't. I scored an A in Higher Latin - the class only had four pupils and we got on really well with the teacher.

After leaving school I attended university and landed a Joint Honours degree, yet somehow I've been out of steady work for nearly 8 years. I'm only called for interview if I don't let on that I have a profound hearing loss. It's funny how quick they call me - suddenly I sound employable!

On one occasion they lacked caution and told me I couldn't have the job (working with computer files) because I was unable to answer the phone - even though this wasn't mentioned in the advertisement. I thought it was only about data input and filing, which would have been fine for me, if rather dull.

My sister tried for a job where she was told (at interview) that people were rotating the tasks. This meant she would occasionally end up manning the desk and dealing with the public. This was not what she applied to do, and she wouldn't have managed it as well as the others. So no job for her.

I was not taught sign language as a child and would probably be described as oral deaf, but that does not mean I find conversation easy - rather the reverse. Over the years I received negative vibes (from outside the family) about writing notes or using simple body language if communication became difficult. I eventually lost my courage, and mostly I don't expect it from anybody now. I let them talk, and move on.

About ten years ago I developed agoraphobia, which I suspect was caused by communication difficulties and stress. I learned how to handle it, but it adds to the difficulty of obtaining work. Every time my sister shows me a job advertisement, it says "you must be bright, breezy and confident."
"That rules me out, then," I say. "I can't possibly apply for that!"
"It's just employer burblespeak," says E, prosaically.

Maybe, but for a long time now I've been thinking there's discrimination against introverts. Don't get me started on that.

Sometimes I wonder which is really me - the person sitting quietly in a group situation, unable to join in properly and feeling a total prat, or the person full of talk (like here)? My own frustration and dismay tells me the answer to that. Like it or not, disablism does concern me. Much of it subtle and unintended, everyday stuff, shrug-off and get-on-with-your-life stuff - but it affects, shapes and restricts me all the same.

There are over 100 blogs and podcasts dealing with this difficult subject today - to find the others, visit Diary of a Goldfish. Her own piece is excellent.