Thursday, 21 November 2024

WAKE UP!

 Robert the catholic hospital food eater in his latest post has expressed an interest in reading literature.

I suggested that he has a look into Jack Kerouac and James Joyce for a different perspective in writing styles. He went straight into a talking book of Kerouac which kind of defeats the purpose of trying to learn from written grammar of renowned authors but ... it is Robert we're talking of here. His understanding of Christianity, Catholicism and theology is percolated or should we say 'effused' down to him from The Vatican via the Sunday sermons he listens to. Not exactly reliable.

Anyway, I suggested Finnigan's Wake (James Joyce) as a starting point. The nonsense in it should make him feel right at home:

" ...riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. Sir Tristram, violer d’amores, fr’over the short sea, had passencore rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of Europe Minor to wielderfight his penisolate war: nor had topsawyer’s rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse to Laurens County’s gorgios while they went doublin their mumper all the time: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe totauftauf thuartpeatrick: not yet, though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland old isaac: not yet, though all’s fair in vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pa’s malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface. The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoord-enenthurnuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all christian minstrelsy. The great fall of the offwall entailed at such short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the humptyhillhead of humself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the west in quest of his tumptytumtoes:and their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green since devlinsfirst loved livvy.What clashes here of wills gen wonts, oystrygods gaggin fishy-gods! Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax! Ualu Ualu Ualu! Quaouauh! Where the Baddelaries partisans are still out to mathmaster Malachus Micgranes and the Verdons catapelting the camibalistics out of the Whoyteboyce of Hoodie Head. Assiegates and boomeringstroms. Sod’s brood, be me fear! Sanglorians, save! Arms apeal with larms, appalling. Killykillkilly: a toll, a toll. What chance cuddleys, what cashels aired and ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what tegotetabsolvers! What true feeling for their’s hayair with what strawng voice of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the duskt the father of fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and body!) how hath fanespanned most high heaven the skysign of soft advertisement! But was iz? Iseut? Ere were sewers? The oaks of ald now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay. Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish. Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen’s maurer, lived in the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofar-back for messuages before joshuan judges had given us numbers or Helviticus committed deuteronomy (one yeastyday he sternely struxk his tete in a tub for to watsch the future of his fates but ere he swiftly stook it out again, by the might of moses, the very water was eviparated and all the guenneses had met their exodus so that ought to show you what a pentschanjeuchy chap he was!) and during mighty odd years this man of hod, cement and edifices in Toper’s Thorp piled buildung supra buildung pon the banks for the livers by the Soangso. He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur. Wither hayre in honds tuck up your part inher. Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed, like Haroun Childeric Eggeberth he would caligulate by multiplicables the alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by neatlight of the liquor wheretwin ’twas born, his roundhead staple of other days to rise in undress maisonry upstanded (joygrantit!), a waalworth of a skyerscape of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitec titiptitoploftical, with a burning bush abob off its baubletop and with larrons o’toolers clittering up and tombles a’buckets clottering down. Of the first was he to bare arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh of Riesengeborg. His crest of huroldry, in vert with ancillars, troublant, argent, a hegoak, poursuivant, horrid, horned. His scutschum fessed, with archers strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman handling his hoe. Hohohoho, Mister Finn, you’re going to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, you’re vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to be fined again! What then agentlike brought about that tragoady thundersday this municipal sin business? Our cubehouse still rocks as earwitness to the thunder of his arafatas but we hear also through successive ages that shebby choruysh of unkalified muzzlenimiissilehims that would blackguardise the whitestone ever hurtleturtled out of heaven. Stay us wherefore in our search for tighteousness, O Sustainer, what time we rise and when we take up to toothmick and before we lump down upown our leatherbed and in the night and at the fading of the stars ! For a nod to the nabir is better than wink to the wabsanti. Otherways wesways like that provost scoffing bedoueen the jebel and the jpysian sea. Cropherb the crunch-bracken shall decide. Then we’ll know if the feast is a flyday. She has a gift of seek on site and she allcasually ansars helpers, the dreamydeary. Heed! Heed ! It may half been a missfired brick, as some say, or it mought have been due to a collupsus of his back promises, as others looked at it. (There extand by now one thousand and one stories, all told, of the same). But so sore did abe ite ivvy’s holired abbles, (what with the wallhall’s horrors of rollsrights, carhacks, stonengens, kisstvanes, tramtrees, fargobawlers, autokinotons, hippohobbilies, streetfleets, tournintaxes, megaphoggs, circuses and wardsmoats and basilikerks and aeropagods and the hoyse and the jollybrool and the peeler in the coat and the mecklenburk bitch bite at his ear and the merlinburrow burrocks and his fore old porecourts, the bore the more, and his blightblack workingstacks at twelvepins a dozen and the noobibusses sleighding along Safetyfirst Street and the derryjellybies snooping around Tell-No-Tailors’ Corner and the fumes and the hopes and the strupithump of his ville’s indigenous romekeepers, homesweepers, domecreepers, thurum and thurum in fancymud murumd and all the uproor from all the aufroofs, a roof for may and a reef for hugh butt under his bridge suits tony) wan warning Phill filt tippling full. His howd feeled heavy, his hoddit did shake. (There was a wall of course in erection) Dimb! He stottered from the latter. Damb! he was dud. Dumb! Mastabatoom, mastabadtomm, when a mon merries his lute is all long. For whole the world to see...".


"Oh God!"

 

Wednesday, 20 November 2024

GETTING THINGS DONE

All is good up here other than some kind of spam thing happening on the blog. Some stuttering fool keeps making inane comments which consist mainly of the word 'the'. What's that about?

The snooker table sold yesterday on Trade Me above the reserve price so we're happy. I won't celebrate yet though until the buyer deposits the money into our bank account. He could always default.

The landscape gardener arrived today and started the clearing part of the operation before terracing. Hopefully this will go OK as 'kerb appeal' will help sell the house at a price we want.

It's the third day with the handyman. He's a great worker and way more methodical than I am. He's identified many small things that needed doing and has fixed most already. Even if we don't sell we'll have a better house for it.

The plumber will return tomorrow to connect the new cistern in the rear bathroom. It'll be interesting with all three tradesmen jockeying for position for their vehicles in the driveway. 

I'm keeping out of their way and continuing to sort out stuff indoors. This is a bigger job than I envisaged but we'll get there. It's a change for me throwing stuff away instead of hoarding it.

That said though, we identified an indoors tiling job - about 6 square metres - that we'll get the handyman to do. The Old Girl suggested going to the Tile Warehouse to buy tiles but I remembered some that we've had in the basement for the last 15 years. These were left over from the house alterations we had done for our Point Chevalier house. They are brand new and unused. I rediscovered them this morning and they will be ideal for the job. She's happy with them which means that I'm happy too.

It's nearly lunch time. I'm going to make a toasted sandwich with cheese, onion, tomato and left-over mashed potato. The Old Girl thinks this is a disgusting combination which I'm happy with as she won't want to pinch half of it. I wonder what Robert's having. No doubt he's been skulking around hospital wards swiping food off of patient's plates. 




Monday, 18 November 2024

AN OK DAY

It's been an OK day so far today. After a severe storm yesterday and through the night, today broke with no rain but a lot of wind (not from me in case Richard was wondering).

The 'handyman' (not James Taylor came early and has been busy doing jobs around the house - scraping and painting window sills, frames and replacing putty etc. I have a big list of jobs for him which will probably take a couple of weeks. I can then have him 'on-call' for anything that goes wrong or what we want tidied up before putting the house on the market.

I've been indoors sorting stuff and listing some items on Trade Me. I figure that anything we can sell will assist with the removal costs. The trick is to price items cheap enough to gain interest but not too cheap as to not be worthwhile. It still doesn't stop tossers from making ridiculously low offers though.

I just made myself a delicious tomato sandwich from the beautiful Molenberg-type loaf I made this morning. Yummy. I had a craving for some reason, for one of those St Pat's tuck shop gravy pies. I've never found anything like them since. These were the ones that Richard - correct me if I get this wrong - said in one of his posts or a comment on mine a while ago that the woman who ran the tuck shop caught him licking the tops of the pies that were in the back of her van! Incredible.




"You tell all your friends, they'll come running to me."

Sunday, 17 November 2024

A QUICK QUESTION

 I'm watching the rugby - NZ vs France and what a game it's proving to be.

There are some things that I still don't understand though as the rules keep changing. Maybe Richard could assist me. He was, after all, one of those players who stood around doing incomprehensible things - forwards they called them. I don't know what position Robert played at school rugby - probably leading the rosary at half-time.

Anyway, I remember there was a rule that called for a penalty for 'putting the ball beneath your own hooker's feet' in the scrums. Has this gone now? Every time a half-back now puts in the ball at a scrum, he (or she) clearly tosses the ball beneath his own hooker's feet. What's that about?

I will have more questions but as the half-time break is finished I have to get back to the match.



Thursday, 14 November 2024

WE'VE GOT A MAN IN ...

 ...well, a man and his wife actually.

As a compromise with The Old Girl, instead of having new bathrooms and a kitchen built (her idea) we are installing new toilet pans and cisterns and I put in a new mixer tap and replaced shelves in the kitchen. I thought that this was a good result.

Installing new toilets is a job too far for me so we contracted our local plumber to do the job. As he has some health issues at present his wife is acting as plumber's assistant for him.

They arrived first thing this morning and are busy with the installation. As expected this requires a bit of adjustment with new holes being cut in the floor and wall so there's a lot of electric saw noises. Luckily The Old Girl's away and not working in her office (my study) which I've temporarily reclaimed.

I don't have any photos to show you yet but, fear not, there will be a follow-up to this post.

When the saw noises stop I can hear them discussing the job and the problems. Being a very old house there are always problems and I cross my fingers hoping that all will be OK. My ears prick up when I hear them say "Damn - this doesn't fit" or "I was sure that the pipe would go that way". In these instances I'd rather be the one who is away and get back when the job is finished but ... sometimes you have to 'man up'.

Oops ... I have to go and fix up some extra lighting for them. My apologies to that old whingeing guy who doesn't like half posts ....




Wednesday, 13 November 2024

WHO'S A CLEVER BOY THEN?

Before you readers argue amongst yourselves about this let me tell you that it's me. I'm the clever boy OK? 

You will remember that, a few weeks ago I posted about my kitchen repair job where I replaced the sink mixer. Remember? Never mind if you don't because here's a link to the post. No need to thank me. CHUFFED

While The Old Girl was pleased with my effort and, in fact complimented me on it. She was less than enthusiastic when I announced that I was going to replace the bottom and upper shelving that had been damaged by the leaking water though.

"I don't want a pig's ear made of that matey" she said -

" Maybe you should get a man in to do the job."

Well, I never ...

I'd already bought the replacement melamine boards from the Renovation Warehouse and was ready to go but, after her comment resolved to wait until she was away before doing the job (just in case).

Today she drove off to Russell again where she is attending a concert by The Paris Chamber Players who are flying around NZ on an old DC3.

The pilot of the DC3 is a friend of ours who lives in Russell with his partner of 40 years plus. The group is playing in Russell tonight so Lynn drove up for the recital. Here's a link:

FLYING FRENCH MUSICIANS

Anyway, this afternoon, after the rain had stopped I got out the melamine boards from the basement and set to. The job wasn't easy as each board had to have intricate cut-outs to fit around the water pipes and connections. Originally this would have been done on a fancy fret saw machine. I don't have one of those so just used a hand saw. It was tricky and laborious and a hand saw cannot turn corners like the fancy machines. I persevered (not one of my strongest traits) and, with the help of a couple of sharp chisels got the job done satisfactorily. Once the edges were painted no-one could tell whether a professional had done the job or not. Thankfully the boards, top and bottom, fitted and the under-the-sink area looks great.

Here's a pic:



Well, I'm happy.*






* I accept that some scathing old schoolteachers with nothing better to do will critique this post unfavourably and would have liked some sort of climactic finish so here's something for them (him):





"HELLO! DO YOU COPY?"


 I note that Richard of RBB has been running out of ideas ..... sorry, I realise that that's a given and you're no doubt aware of the fact if you've unfortunately checked out his blog.

If you did this and also checked Robert's blog you will have noticed that the doddery old guy has been writing comments using my initials - TC - pretending to me. While I can understand his aspiration it is a bit sad that he feels that he needs to do this to get attention.

It's raining today so I'll stay indoors to sort out boxes of stuff. The Old Girl has been junking just about everything she has including old photographs and newspaper cuttings.

I managed to take a pic of this before it went into the rubbish. It was from the Christchurch Press in the mid 1990s. I like it for her cheesy smile.






Tuesday, 12 November 2024

"You are a work in progress" ...

... No, this wasn't said to me by The Old Girl this morning although she has said it a lot in the past but has now given me up as a lost cause - it was said to me by the doctor at the local surgery I went to.

I mentioned a few posts back that I'd had a check out of possible skin cancer problems at Mole Map and was referred to my local GP for follow-up. Nothing was cancerous but a few lesions (the medical people have some much bigger names to describe these) were identified as requiring ointments and one surgical removal. I applied the prescribed ointment to those indicated and waited for the appointment for surgical removal of the one on my rear shoulder. That appointment was this morning which, by chance was the same morning that an old ex-schoolteacher went on a blogging campaign via posts and comments wondering why I had neither posted or commented! Oh well, it's nice to be wanted I suppose although Ronnie Biggs might disagree.

I had my doctor's appointment first thing this morning and dressed in my best shorts and T-shirt and clean underwear*. When I took my T-shirt off and the doc had a look he said that he couldn't find the 'lesion' that had earlier (6 weeks ago) been identified and that it seemed to have disappeared. I asked him if that was a good thing and he, thankfully, replied that yes, it was a good thing. I then told him about a 'lesion' that I had just recently become aware of on my front shoulder that was itchy. He looked at it and said that it was a XXZVBBGBLURGH or something and not of concern but that he could remove it by freezing it. 

"OK" I thought why not go for it I said. He then said that as no 'knife-work' was needed on the 'lesion' that I'd come in for, for removal that he'd freeze a few more 'lesions'. 

"OK" I thought wondering if I'd stepped into a maniac's laboratory.

While he was away (he'd stepped out of the surgery to, I assume retrieve his 'freezing apparatus') I engaged with the nurse-assistant who had remained with me to, I assume prevent me from escaping through the window. 

"Freezing?" I burbled, trying to sound both calm and interested. 

"Yes" she said. "No knife-work today". 

I looked at her closely - not too closely as she was an attractive woman and, you know - 'Me Too' - but couldn't discern anything out of hand except for her nervously fiddling with the equipment.

"Here we go" announced the doctor as he waltzed in with a formidable-looking container that was a spray bottle filled with liquid nitrogen.

He sprayed, in small bursts, the super-frozen nitrogen on the spots on my shoulder (front and back), my head (scalp), another shoulder (as yet unidentified) all the while inviting the nurse-assistant to come closer to have a look.

"You have to be careful with this stuff" he said " as if one sprays too long and too wide it causes problems". 

To demonstrate he sprayed a big spray on to the vinyl couch I was sitting on and it froze a huge area which then kind of puckered up and changed colour. He then sprayed a tiny point on to another section which I guess froze it but didn't pucker it OR FUCKING KILL IT!

"There you go" he said.

"Bloody hell” I thought.

When he'd finished and I was dressed and leaving he said.

"You are a work In progress".

I thanked him and quickly moved off to reception to pay for the treatment ($79) and, while waiting for the receipt (which enables me to be reimbursed by AA Insurance) overheard my nurse- assistant conversing with other staff members.

"So, how'd the knife-work go?” asked an admin staffer.

"No knife-work unfortunately, Doc used nitrogen" she replied.

I scooted out of there.









* I actually wear clean underwear every day and have a great selection of Swanndri ones in red, blues and greens.

Monday, 11 November 2024

LOGIC

A new Cory Mohler cartoon came today with the theme of LOGIC using Bertrand Russell as the protagonist.

I recalled Robert recently using controverted logic to try to explain some Catholic nonsense but when I did a search on his blog I couldn't find it. See:


Oh well, that's logical.

To be fair to Robert though I checked out Richard's blog to see if there's any logic in his writings. The answer, sadly is also a no:


Maybe there's something in the water down in greater Wellington.

Here's the Mohler cartoon. Click on it for clarity:



"When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh, it was beautiful, magical
And all the birds in the trees, well they'd be singing so happily
Oh, joyfully, oh, playfully watching me
But then they sent me away to teach me how to be sensible
Logical, oh, responsible, practical
Then they showed me a world where I could be so dependable
Oh, clinical, oh, intellectual, cynical ..."



EMPIRICAL KNOWLEDGE

It's a gloomy, dreary and rainy day here today - quite suitable for Armistice (Remembrance) Day.


The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month has just passed. I noted that National Radio devoted about 5 seconds of silence to commemorate the fact which sadly is becoming the norm where indifference has overtaken remembrance and caring.

Good old Richard cares though and he and Shelley will be no doubt making loud noises somewhere in Wainuiomata - not outside the RSA which by all accounts has been closed though - further evidence of the decline of the remembrance and caring.

I get it that young people don't see the relevance of these things particularly as they don't have the close or closer connections to the events of the First and Second World Wars where people of my age had grandparents, parents and other family members involved but its a shame. The indifference unfortunately comes hand in hand with forgetfulness of the dangers of radical thoughts and actions. The rise of nationalism and white supremacy (fascism and authoritarianism) seems to have come around over the last decade and the results can be seen in far right governments around the world, even in countries that had direct suffering from Nazism, Stalinism and the fascist regimes of the early days of the last century. The rise of these cancers in the 1930s has parallels with what has been happening in Europe, South America, Asia and USA especially underscored by the 2024 USA election. "Oh, when will you ever learn?"



My tip-run plans for today are on hold so I'll be sorting out stuff indoors. Yesterday, after completing the deck-staining project I brought down about 30 crates and boxes of stuff from the attic. The day before I completed the courtyard brickwork job (grouting and then chlorine washing) so that's another job ticked off the list.

I advertised on Neighbourly today for a landscape gardener to terrace the front garden and for a handyman to help with outdoor house-work like scraping, painting, bog-filling, board replacement etc. There are just so many things to do.

When will I ever learn?