Grannymar

Police were called to a Quiet residential area when sleep was disturbed with loud noise for a third night in a row. A young man was seen banging on the door of Grannymar Gables at 2a.m. There was no trace of this young man at all the next day.

“The noise was very loud and frightening” said a weary elderly neighbour.

“That lady is usually very quiet. In fact sedate is how I would describe her.” said another.

“Well she comes from the South. She is one of them!” an elderly gentleman was heard to mutter.

Grannymar was unavailable for comment. She is believed to be in hiding!

So what is going on, I hear you ask. Now don’t all faint together, make a cup of tea and sure have a Choccie biscuit or three, just for the shock, you know. When you eat Choccie biscuits for shock, calories don’t count

Now are you ready? George take Elly out of the room, this might upset her!

It all started on Sunday. You might remember I was having a Rest Day. After many hours vegetating outdoors I felt refreshed enough to prepare a blog post for the next day. It was midnight as I battened down the hatches, set the alarm and hit the hay. Feeling relaxed I drifted off to sleep quite quickly with the BBC World Service droning softly in the background.

Suddenly I was awake and realised that the noise that woke me was not all down to ‘Sailing By’ the tune played every night as a lead in to the Fishing Weather Forecast. This sound was everywhere. Inside and outside the house – it was the Burglar Alarm! I was asleep for less than an hour. Out of the bed I hopped like a sprinter heading for the control panel, switching on lights in each room as I passed. The control panel told me that the garage was the source of concern.

I am unable to access the garage from inside my house and not wanting to venture outside in my nightwear I opened the blinds to see if anyone was about. The garage seemed secure so I reset the alarm and went back to bed. Although all was quiet I found it difficult to drop off to sleep once more. I dosed and woke repeatedly until around 6a.m. when I gave in and went to make breakfast. Later I checked the garage and the door was still locked. I turned the key and raised the door. My car was still there and everything seemed in order. No trapped birds or neighbours cats had slipped past me as I put the car away. No sign of any little mice anywhere, they are more usual in wintertime, drawn in by the heat from the central heating boiler.

My day passed as normal on Monday and soon it was time for the nightly routine of switching off, unplugging, locking up and switching on the alarm. All seemed in order and I was soon tucked up nice and warm. Sleep came easily – the sign of an easy conscience my father often told us.

Once more just an hour after settling down, my sleep was interrupted by the alarm. I shot out of the bed to discover once again that the problem was with the garage. I opened my front door and look about. There was no sign of intruders so I made a warm drink and took it back to bed with me. Sleep was rather elusive and I counted more sheep than we have in Co Antrim!

Breakfast over on Tuesday morning I opened the garage and removed the car. I looked everywhere and still found no culprit. Tasks for the day soon took over and I forgot about the lack of sleep. By bedtime I was really tired and promised myself a lie-in in the morning.

I became aware of the voices on the radio and there was dreadful interference in the background. Did I knock the control button and move it off the station? Wait now that was not interference it was the alarm yet AGAIN!

Jumping up once more I became aware of a banging on my front door. This time there was a man’s shape at the door. I called hello and went to switch off the offending alarm. It was a young neighbour who had moved back into the newly renovated bungalow with his wife and young children across the way from me. Apparently the alarm had been going for some time and I had slept through it. They were not sure if I was at home or gone to visit Elly.

The wife called the police fearing that I might be ill and they would need to gain entry. Assuring the young man that I was ok, I returned to bed without the alarm. They called the police to cancel their callout and say I was fine.

I sat back in bed and cried!

It was the first time in years that anybody came to my door to see if I was alright or needed help. I welcome back my new neighbours with open arms.

On Wednesday I gutted the garage and all I found were SPIDERS! I declared war on them. No matter how fast they ran I still got them. My garage is now so clean it only lacks the smell of polish.

I called the company that installed the system and they said the PIR in the garage was so sensitive that a spider walking across it was enough to trigger it off. That is both good and bad. Good in that nothing will get past it, but bad in that I now must dust the garage on a more regular basis.

I was missing for a few hours earlier in the week. I went to town.

On my travels I paid a visit to a couple of ladies well known in the area outside the Europa Buscentre. The wind in this part of Belfast has a habit of whipping around corners, yet these ladies had not a coat between them.

The Monument to the Unknown Woman Worker 1992 by Louise Walsh is a testament to all women workers both paid and unpaid. Various utensils attached to the two women represent their activities and include the shopping basket and the cash register. It is apt that the women appear strong and unshakable, battling on against low wages or no wages at all. Belfast owes its growth to the masses of female workers who built the largest and most famous linen industry in the world. Not to forget other women in factories, shops, and offices who struggled to support their families during the high unemployment caused by the “troubles”. Pause for a moment to admire the heroism of these two women, and who they represent.

This lady has a work worn face, a child’s soother for an earring and cable knitting for hair with a ball of wool for the bun at the nape of her neck.

A water tap is embedded in the shoulder, a cheese grater in the upper arm and the following message:

All women working in the home receive no direct wage.

The fingers on the right hand are clothes pegs and the basket represented the time when women went from shop to shop for food before the days of Supermarkets and on-line shopping.

Women do two-thirds of the world’s work, receive only two per cent of the world’s income and own less than one percent of the world’s assrts.

Across the back of the second lady is a hairdryer and the hair is like hairbrushes they come with the message:

Almost 40% of women working for income in Northern Ireland are part-time workers. These women are almost always badly paid. They work without having benefits, holiday entitlements or pension schemes. Part-time workers are also not represented by trade unions.

I have an acquaintance with a life sentence!

She has received the news none of us want to hear. The illness she has is not curable and the time scale is very short. Three young children wander about the house bewildered because they know something is wrong, yet they do not know what it is. Mum is prone to crying and dad and granny are constantly trying to reassure her.

Mum realises that she will never see her children grow up, not be there for many more birthdays, or family celebrations, or to comfort them in times of need. She worries that they might forget her. Or that they will remember her as the person always lying under a rug on the couch crying.

She has baby name tags, early pictures, bootees, baby toys and locks of hair in a treasure box. I have suggested to her to have three boxes, one for each child with their name on it, in her own handwriting. Then place the items for each child in their special box. Next I suggested that she write letters to each child in turn.

“Start writing now”, I said; “beginning with how you felt when you heard that they were expected, the planning and preparations for their arrival”. I suggested she tell them how special they are and about the little things that made her heart sing. Write about her feelings for them now, and of all the hopes and dreams she carries for them.

Put each letter in an envelope and seal it, Put each child’s name, and the date when you want them to get it, on the front. Think about this date, 18th, 21st birthdays of even on your death.

What better gift can a mother give!

While writing this I received an email from a dear friend. The attachment was a story:

The Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes.”

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognise that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things…. Your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favourite passions— and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.

The sand is everything else— the small stuff. “If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

“Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and put out the rubbish. Take care of the golf balls first- the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled and said, “I’m glad you asked.”

The coffee just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.

Will the person nearest my Elly at this moment, give her the Kiss-of-Life and drag her up off the floor! I can do nothing these days because she worries about me so much.

Is she upright again?

Well then I will begin.

Following a Power cut on a Monday the other week I have experienced fluctuation with the light levels every evening. At first I thought it was my eyes. The lights dimmed but did not go out. After about an hour or sometimes two they went back to normal. Now I am not a heavy user of electricity. Lights in the living room were on as were the computer & the radio. My oil fired central heating was pumping away and the place was warm. The fridge/freezer was working normally and several clocks through the house were showing the correct time. The only problem was with the lights.

This continued to happen three nights in a row. A little worried that the power might be cut again I decided to phone my provider NIE (Northern Ireland Electricity) on the Thursday evening. I spoke to a very nice young lady and she seemed rather puzzled by my query. She was aware of the break in power on the Monday and said she would pass the message on to the engineers so that they could check things out the next day.

I explained very briefly my health situation and my need for heat, light and access to a working telephone in case of emergency. Immediately she said “You are not on our Critical list!”

“Critical List” I said “What’s that?”

She told me that NIE offers a critical care information service to customers who have health issues or are dependent on life supporting electrical equipment. Once registered with NIE they can provide up to date information during a power cut or a planned interruption. If I need to call them my number would be recognised and I would be given priority.

I never realised this service was available. Did You?

So if you live in Norn Iron and know of anyone in any of the situations listed above then tell them to call NIE. If you live anywhere else in the wider world, check out your electricity provider. Who knows when you might need the service I hope you never do.

Those words “What will you have?” are ones we hear repeated over and over at this time of year.

My answer to the question varies with my mood, the time of day and where I am at the time of asking. It might be a cup of black coffee for elevenses, a glass of wine with lunch or dinner, providing I am not driving, and a G&T if the sun is over the yard arm.

To my friends who enjoy a glass of wine… And those of you who don’t, I remind you of the old saying:

In wine there is wisdom,

In Beer there is freedom,

In water there is a bacterium.

In a number of carefully controlled trials, scientists have demonstrated that if we drink 1 litre of water each day, at the end of the year we would have absorbed more than 1 kilo of Escherichia Coli, (E. Coli) - bacteria found in faeces. In other words, we are consuming 1 kilo of Poo.

However, we do NOT run that risk when drinking wine (or rum, gin, whiskey or other liquor) because alcohol has to go through a purification process of boiling, filtering and Fermenting.

Remember: Water = Poo, Wine = Health

Therefore, it’s better to drink wine and talk stupid, than to drink water and be full of shit.

I am not talking personal hygiene here, but I am going back to the days when any decent young lady was not available for a date on one night of the week because she was washing her hair!

I take you back to the days before pressing buttons, and we are not talking modern phone help lines here…!

At the eleventh second of the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month…..

At 5am the armistice treaty between the Allies and Germany was agreed and signed in a railway carriage in Compiegne Forest in France on November 11 1918. It was to come into effect at 11am and marked the end of the First World War on the Western Front.

In the UK the main observance is on the second Sunday of November although two minutes’ silence is observed on 11 November itself. This year the days coincide.

Ceremonies are held at War Memorials throughout the land, usually organised by local branches of the Royal British leigon – an association for ex-servicemen. Typically, poppy wreaths are laid by representatives of the Crown, the armed forces, and local civic leaders, as well as by local organisations including the Royal British leigon, ex-servicemen organisations, cadet forces, the Scouts, Guides, Boys’ Brigade, St John Ambulance and the Salvation Army. “The Last Post” is played by a trumpeter or bugler, and two minutes’ silence is observed and then broken by a trumpeter playing “Reveille”.

A minute’s or two minutes’ silence is also frequently incorporated into church services, and even everyday locations such as supermarkets and banks may invite their customers and staff to fall silent at 11am

In all wars it is the young folk who are sacrificed as ‘Cannon Fodder’ while the Generals and World Leaders pontificate from comfortable warm bunkers well away from danger.

Today as you hear a bell toll, take a look around you and focus on a young man of eighteen or nineteen years of age. Ok, so he might be a ‘hoodie’ but he is alive, imagine the life being snuffed out of him never to be seen or heard from again. In WW1 a whole generation of young men were lost (war was a man thing back then); many of them were not yet out of their teens.

While you are thinking of the young men, remember all the young women waiting back home working the farms, the factories, the shops and dealing with all the everyday matters of living. For some no young man returned and for others the men who survived were unrecognisable because of injury, shell shock or were shattered in spirit by horrendous recurring nightmares. For some fortunate to have a husband return healthy in mind and body, it might mean giving up a new found independence and a return to being the ‘little woman’ in the kitchen.

Mr Tony Blair Ex Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and President George W Bush of the United States of America.

Dear Gentlemen,

Together you decided to march into Iraq and start a war. It was not with my consent or permission, and now Mr Blair, you have sailed off into the sunset soon to be joined by your good friend George W. We poor souls are left with the debacle because neither of you have found a way to withdraw without both losing face.

I am paying over and again for this dreadful disaster. Food prices have soared and today I am punished once more. Being old and cold I need plenty of winter fuel to warm my bones. My bungalow is plumbed for oil fired central heating. And as mentioned before I light a real fire for an extra comfort.

Back in February this year I purchased 900 litres of heating oil which cost me Stg£278. Today I bought a further 900 litres and it cost exactly £100 more. Yes, today it cost Stg£378 to keep my tootsies warm for the winter months.

Dear Gentlemen, I am sure that with the goodness of your hearts you will find a way to refund the Stg£378 from either your Salary or pension without missing a cent of it.

Yours sincerely

Grannymar

Way down under where the Kangaroos live, Baino has written an excellent post.

GO READ IT AND TAKE NOTE

No matter what age you are, and if your only possession is a half chewed pencil, make sure it goes to the person you want to have it. Review the Will every ten years as circumstances can change. The SO might have exchanged you for a newer younger model, in which case you don’t want them to get all your treasures. You might have joined the world of Grandparenthood and want the tiny angels to have something to link them to their past.

Now having said that I am sure you intend sticking around for a long time yet, having a will DOES NOT bring death any closer. But it relieves extra stress for those you leave behind when the time comes.

So we have decided you are staying for the party. Make sure that all the precious items are in a very safe place. Mine are so safe I will never see them again! The B*st*rd Burglers got them a few years ago.

Now here is a little exercise for your lunch time break. List your possessions and see what it would cost if you were to go out and purchase them today.

Most of you out there prove daily to us that you use a camera, either digital or on the mobile phone. (There’s two items for the list so far.) Take pictures of the items on a clear background with a ruler as a guide to size. Make a note separately with the description and age of the item, add the receipt if you have it. You can store the info on your computer (third item).

Now I wonder how much my glass eye and wooden leg are worth……

Oh! and I forgot these:

Is it any wonder young people nowadays are so confused?