And we’re back to normality!
Yes, after last week’s slight aberration, the blog is back on track with its usual Wednesday night offering. Hopefully.
I say hopefully, because today represents that most unusual of things in these COVID-ridden days, a full and busy day, in which a decent portion of my time is accounted for, and a decent expenditure of energy required.
It’s not all bad, not by a long chalk. In fact, a lot of the day has the potential to be pretty good, but it does require a little planning as I work around the one item on the agenda which puts a hole slap-bang in the middle of it.
Today, you see, is the day the car goes in for its annual service.
Dress For Success
Yeah, I know. All that build-up just for that rather pedestrian reveal, eh?
Yeah, I know. All that build-up just for that rather pedestrian reveal, eh?
I’ll admit that it’s not the most exciting of adventures, consisting, in the main, of sitting around while people far more skilled in these things give Bella (my blue Hyundai Ioniq) her health-check. It does, however, mean that, shortly, I will have to brave the entirely seasonal snow-bound roads of my native West Yorkshire to travel the ten miles or so to the garage whence Bella was bought. It means the haven of seclusion will be substituted with the chatter of suited salesmen and overalled engineers underpinned by some dire early afternoon game-show, or programme about renovating and renting out houses.
It might seem like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, and to be fair the circumstances I describe are more in the way of a small hillock (why, yes, I did write that sentence specifically to use the word hillock. It’s a good word is hillock… Hillock). A trifling inconvenience as it may be, however, it has meant that this particular offering is being written in the late morning, rather than the more traditional mid-afternoon. Robbing me of the sense of urgency a looming posting deadline offers and replacing it with the pleasant buzz of my morning caffeination. Then it will be time to finish getting dressed (You can put away the unpleasant images, it’s only a pair of socks and my big clod-hopping boots that are missing) and make the slightly scary journey I mentioned earlier.
Winter Blunderland
In truth, today’s appointment was very nearly deferred. An overnight fall of snow meant I awoke yesterday to see one of my least favourite of all sights. The pavements, roads, and rooftops were all covered in the blasted white stuff and, as always, that carried with it the potential to stop me before I started. Snow, you see, is decidedly unfriendly to a wheelchair user. It has a habit of making the going more of a stopping. Of piling up in front of my footplates until my ponderous progress builds a white wall in front of me.
It’s never all that big of a wall, to be fair. Certainly not enough to cause any White Walker much inconvenience, but it stops me. Add in the biting cold turning the metal of my wheel-rims into a circular ice core and, well, no; I’m not a fan of snow. Not of wheeling in it, and certainly not of driving in it.
Hopefully, the last 24 hours, in which the snow has held off, will mean the conditions will be somewhat friendly than they might have been a day earlier. Looking at the half mile of road I need to traverse to get out of the estate I live in, however, I’m not super-confident. The fact that the last time we visited the garage (a year ago) the sat-nav took us across some narrow, steep country lanes to get there, only serves to sap that confidence more. Add in the nail embedded in my left-rear tyre and, well, you get the picture.
Energy Bill
And that’s just getting there. It’s trip which will require concentration above and beyond that normally reserved for such a trip, and on the other side of it is enforced awkward uselessness. I’ll take my book with me, so there is that. I doubt the levels of solitude and concentration needed to do any writing will be on offer, however. I doubt the internet connection will be sufficient to allow me to partake in the pitch party I’d have like to join on Twitter (a pitch party is where you can submit several elevator-pitch type tweets to a specific hashtag and see if you can raise some interest among the agents and publishers for that novel which has been stuck on your computer for over a year. I don’t even think coffee will be on offer, apart from some undrinkable, automated, sub freeze-dried pod fuelled swill (it’s a hard life. It really is)
And that will be it. A decent chunk of my day gone. A chunk I could have used to write. To try to get my book in the faces of people who might help me realise my ambition of getting published. A chunk which would have lined up my day so much more neatly, and meant I could hold back the energy needed to shout at the referee when my own, sweet, Leeds United take on Everton tonight.
Hopefully, the last 24 hours, in which the snow has held off, will mean the conditions will be somewhat friendly than they might have been a day earlier. Looking at the half mile of road I need to traverse to get out of the estate I live in, however, I’m not super-confident. The fact that the last time we visited the garage (a year ago) the sat-nav took us across some narrow, steep country lanes to get there, only serves to sap that confidence more. Add in the nail embedded in my left-rear tyre and, well, you get the picture.
Energy Bill
And that’s just getting there. It’s trip which will require concentration above and beyond that normally reserved for such a trip, and on the other side of it is enforced awkward uselessness. I’ll take my book with me, so there is that. I doubt the levels of solitude and concentration needed to do any writing will be on offer, however. I doubt the internet connection will be sufficient to allow me to partake in the pitch party I’d have like to join on Twitter (a pitch party is where you can submit several elevator-pitch type tweets to a specific hashtag and see if you can raise some interest among the agents and publishers for that novel which has been stuck on your computer for over a year. I don’t even think coffee will be on offer, apart from some undrinkable, automated, sub freeze-dried pod fuelled swill (it’s a hard life. It really is)
And that will be it. A decent chunk of my day gone. A chunk I could have used to write. To try to get my book in the faces of people who might help me realise my ambition of getting published. A chunk which would have lined up my day so much more neatly, and meant I could hold back the energy needed to shout at the referee when my own, sweet, Leeds United take on Everton tonight.
At least it will be a job struck off the to-do list. At least, given the proper use of masks and a secluded corner to hide myself away in, I should be safe from possible COVID carriers. The nail will hopefully be dealt with too, which should make the journey home a little less terrifying.
Now if I could only do something about this snow.
Until next time…
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