'twas a SMASHING AFTERNOON on the SEVENTEENTH of JUNE

  

 

A SMASHING AFTERNOON on The Seventeenth of June

I really must impress upon myself, once again, the importance of listening to one’s body, no matter what the mind or spirit may tell one. You’d think that I would have learned this lesson after my brain fogged and housebound years earlier in the twenty-first century. As I’ve managed somewhat better, with the help of some home support care, more recently one tends to forget this basic lesson.

This morning I felt quite exhausted, even after a reasonably good night’s sleep, and initially decided it was going to be a very lazy day, as many are,, but then a guilt-feeling part of my mind reminded me that I’ve been having a lot of ready-meal days lately and, it was about time for me to have a bit of home-cooking. I then started wondering why I felt so wrecked and all I could come up with was that going to the hospital yesterday, for a CT scan was a break from my normal routine, any such visits, involving hospitals or dentists, always prove stressful to me, even if the visit goes smoothly. Then, of course the evening before that I had company for my birthday, which I really enjoyed, but then even that was a break from my normal enjoyably mundane existence.

My mind got the better of me and I decided to prepare a couple of casseroles, sufficient to provide a main meal for four to five days. Having completed the hob based component of the meal I placed the two casseroles in the oven. By around 3.00pm I felt ready for some lunch, and the casseroles were ready.. I removed one dish from the oven and stood it down by the hob, ready to serve I correctly thought, but then, as I went to remove the lid a momentary lapse of concentration led to a shattering of the dish as it fell to the floor, spreading itself, chicken, mushrooms, diced potatoes, shards of glass duly scattered over around 3 square metres of floor space.

A smashing casserole indeed.

The snapshot is of the gathered fragments after sweeping them up, an event which then led to my having to wash the kitchen floor, thereby renewing my sense of exhaustion.

VIRGIN MAFIA - A Tale of Media Piracy

 

A Tale of Media Piracy

 Over the past three years, since my wife went into a nursing home, I had tried unsuccessfully to change the name on the Virgin Media contract from that of my wife to my own. After my wife passed away two days before Christmas Day, I contacted the bereavement team at Virgin Mafia, on 8^th January, who changed the name on the account on the understanding that the contract which was valid until August 2026 would remain in place. On that contract I was paying £59.39 per month.

I was somewhat surprised when through the postal service I received, on 8 January, a new contract to sign agreeing to pay £71+ per month. I refused to sign this contract and returned it explaining the reasons in the Business Reply Envelope supplied. On going into the Virgin Media website on on more than 4 0ccasions in the immediate aftermath, the multiple visits because I couldn’t believe my eyes on the initial occasion, I was informed in the most definite manner that my contract had ended. After several unsuccessful attempts to contact  a real human being at the media company, I sought an alternative supplier for my broadband needs. Rise Fibre agreed to supply a faster Fibre broadband router at a cost, initially, of £17.99 per month, no installation fee. A technician will install the new router next Wednesday, 21^st January.

This morning I received an email from Virgin Mafia informing me that, as I was thinking of switching to Rise, I should be aware that as I was still in contract with VM (sice when?) I would be liable to pay an early disconnection fee. In light of what has been happening over the past several days, proving quite injurious to the health of this octogenarian, I have no understanding of the magic by which they’ve found me to be in contract.

Are Virgin Media Bad for One's Health

 Feeling, angry, nauseous and bewildered owing to Virgin Media.

A recently bereaved octogenarian with health problems., I need a phone and broadband to get my medication, contacting carers etcetera but at present I’ve had to cancel my Direct Debit with VM as I was getting nowhere – they’ve tried before to fuck me up but this time they’re succeeding!

I can’t really decide whether Virgin Media are incompetent or dishonest. On the 08^th January this year,  after many attempts to make contact with a Human at Virgin |Media, I finally managed to change the name on my VM contract to mine, which I had been trying to do for the past three years since my wife went into a nursing home. On the 8^th January I was able to contact the bereavement team who  made the necessary change and informed me that I would remain on that contract, on which I paid £59.39 for broadband 125 and a telephone landline (now digital)

Today, through the mail I was asked to sign a new contract, the final digit of the original contract number having been altered from 1 to 2, and asking me to sign and return it. My wife passed away on 23 December 2025 and on 8 January 2026 I changed the name on my account from that of my wife to mine via your bereavement line. The contract does not expire unti August. The cost of the package is £59.39 per month.. Today you have mailed me a new contract saying my monthly charge will be £71.66 increasing to £75.66 in April. I REFUSE to sign this new contract. I wish they could either GET THEIR ACT TOGETHER or try being honest and replacing detatched robotic voices on the telephone with real human contacts for a change.

My wife passed away on 23 December 2025 and around 8 January 2026 I changed the name on my account from that of my wife to mine via your bereavement line. The contract does not expired unti August. The cost of the package is £59.39 per month.. Today you have mailed me a new contract saying my monthly charge will be £71.66 increasing to £75.66 in April. I refuse to sign this new contract. Please get your act together."

Are Pharmacies usually inept?

 

Since last Friday, owing to the dilatoriness of my local #DayLewisPharmacy, I have been without my usual anxiolitics and twice per day beta blockers which were on a prescription I ordered from my GP on 20 August. From tomorrow morning I will be without my twice per day blood thinners. The pharmacy never answers phone calls and, yesterday I had to wait, discomfortedly, for over 30 minutes, in a queue to speak to the sole person at the desk in the pharmacy who thought the items would be received by them and delivered to me today. It is now 16.00 hours and they have not yet materialised. Today I have been quite light-headed and more unsteady on my feet than usual so, it came as no surprise that my blood pressure was riding extremely high. Can pharmacies be struck off for ineptitude, if so I have a nominee.

A FRAGMENT REDISCOVERED

 

Genuine NHS Dentist?

 

Genuine NHS Dentist

 

I’m just wondering if there is such a thing, in Harrogate, as a Dentist offering a real service for NHS clients.

 

Having been with my current practice since the 1990’s the situation is that I had a routine inspection on 11 July this year when the dentist found I needed three fillings, in some cases repairs to previously filled teeth. The earliest appointment they could offer was 11 October. Exactly three months on from the examination. Two months after this appointment was made I received a phone call, from the dental practice, informing me that, as the dentist would be away ar the time my appointment was due, it would have to be rearranged for 10 December (five months after the inspection).

 

In the meantime I have experienced shards of enamel breaking from both front and back of one of the teeth that required attention. The practice who are supposedly proffering a dental service for me, at present , are North Park Dental Practice.

A transformative event

 

Just wish I could find a pre-emptive strategy for these sudden onset bouts of painful exhaustion, it’s not as if I can lay the blame on over exertion. I’d had a quite lazy restful day today, apart from an unduly early morning waking, from my fitful slumbers, as the hound expressed an urgent need to utilize the garden! I was able to get back into bed within ten minutes but, it seemed like an eternity before I was able to resume my slumbers. When I did finally emerge from the duvet realm there seemed little option other than a very restful day.

 

Around 18.30 hours, a painful tiredness enveloped me; it’s almost impossible to determine which came first, the weary tiredness or the pains in upper limbs and feet. A not unfamiliar gnawing discomfort from the armpits served to induce feelings of nausea and a few shouted expletives caught the snoozing hound quite unawares, although he did quite quickly proffer me his paw and snuggled up closer to me. The discomfort dissipated, of its own volition(?) as I listened to Sibelius ‘The Wood Nymph’, at the opening of tonight’s Prom broadcast on BBC4 before I was fully awakened by the vocal dexterity of soprano Anu Komsi in a newly commissioned piece, from Laura Poe, ‘Laulut maaseudulta’.  The soprano’s performance reminded me of the excitement I felt when I first discovered Cathy Berberian’s vocal gymnastics in the 1960s. A transformative moment.

Wreckage & relief

This is a post I hastily scribbled down, primarily for my own benefit, several days ago. Having just stumbled across it again I thought it was maybe worth sharing 

            Wreckage & Relief 

 Where to begin, where should I have started in trying to understand my current drought of both emotional and physical stamina. The easy bit is accepting that we are psychosomatic beings, it’s pretty obvious that when one is physically, and not infrequently painfully, well below par it inevitably has an impact upon one’s emotional/mental sense of wellbeing.

 I’ve returned to a pattern of restless discomfited nights far outweighing any restful ones. I am fortunate that my combination of amitriptyline and tramadol about an hour before bedtime, (the efficaciousness of which has been reverse demonstrated on those occasions when I have omitted this cocktail, either accidentally or purposefully), still serves to keep full-blown restless legs at bay.

 Discomfort in armpits, elbows, wrists, feet and knees seem to come and go in quite random fashion both nocturnally and diurnally. On another level, reading has become difficult (once again in random fashion) as I seem to lose concentration after just a few lines and futilely return to the beginning. Emotionally, tears are erupting with very minor prompts such as hearing of the death of one time friends and comrades, even though I’ve not been in contact with them for some time. Listening to music, frequently makes me think of, not too far distant, times when I’d have been enjoying the same music or song with my beloved Helen, who of necessity has had to reside in a nursing home since January of last year, following a few years of severe physical and mental health problems. Those recalls are invariably of a bittersweet nature, and I find myself having to reach for the box of tissues.

 Much of what I’m experiencing is reminiscent of when I succumbed to moderate ME, back in the noughties, which led to my premature retirement from any formal wage-labour! 

 The attempt to write down my current physical/emotional state of being has somehow driven the darkest clouds a little bit further away. 

 Malcolm Evison 08/03/24

Advent Reflections - Golgotha Days

This year I spent considerable time on Advent readings and meditations, for some reason I've always found time for Lent studies but have somewhat overlooked approprate studies for the Advent season. What with having spent most of the past year alone, my beloved OH having been in Nursing Home care since January 2023, and an even more disheartening situation in the 'Holy Land'these studies didnot come easy but somehow, my seasonal reflections became a poem which I am now sharing with you:

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Proffering Thanks

 The abominable abdominals, that have taunted and haunted my bodily frame since Saturday evening, have settled down to their more familiar state of dis-ease.  Concurrently, a combination of paracetamol, tramadol, and Piper's empathetic behaviour, helped me through a couple of bouts of nausea-inducing, expletive producing, painful discomfort in the upper limbs and armpits. For this relief I proffer thanks. Gratitude makes one feel better, something I far too frequently forget!

PIPER