Wednesday, 10 August 2022
And now for something completely different.
No, not Monty Python.
You may notice a change in the blog this week, however, because today (my birthday), I’m taking the day off and handing the reins over to Tina, the wonderful woman who I am lucky enough to share my life with.
And it’s not just the birthday thing. Tina has wanted to find the right time and the right space to share a few things for a while now. So, without further ado, here she is.Every thing from here on here is Tina. Her story, her words.
Wednesday, 3 August 2022
Been a while, hasn’t it.
Yes, once again, my somewhat spotty record when it comes to consistency and scheduling has reared its ugly head. And it’s not as if last week’s sadly (sadly?) missing post wasn’t something that was always going to happen (since March of this year at the very, very latest, anyway).
No, the failing was mine. Perhaps I should have written ahead (although that might have impacted on the currentness of the affairs discussed). Maybe I should have taken my laptop to London and done a spot of writing on the go. At the very least I should have added a few lines to my previous offering detailing the upcoming omission.
Oh, and, just in case you hadn’t worked it out, last week’s post was a no-show because I spent the majority of said week in London.
Thursday, 21 July 2022
Hot enough for you?
To be fair, that opening line would have been much better placed on the blog post that was scheduled for yesterday.
Since then, it seems to have cooled significantly, until a point has been reached (in this house, anyway) where I can at least consider wearing more than just my chundies while I write. (please note, this does not guarantee I’m not sat in said underwear, and as for the mental imagery, you’re welcome).
It’s just a shame it didn’t cool to this degree whilst I spent all day in my car.
Wednesday, 13 July 2022
And welcome to what may, hopefully, be the end.
Not that I’m glum about it. In fact, if truth be told, I’m more than happy about the coming apocalypse; partly as it has nothing to do with me and partly because it has a lot to do with one Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, our alleged Prime Minister.
So, shall we?
Wednesday, 6 July 2022
Hello, dear readers!
Who would have ever thought that having a new roof put on the house would have provided subject matter enough to fuel not one, not two, but four separate blog posts.
And yet, here we are, three-and-a-bit weeks later, still feeling the repercussions of taking those steps to make our little house wind-and-waterproof. Not because of the work itself, or even the skip and scaffolding that hung around for far too long. No, in fact it’s not the roof itself that’s the issue at all.
It’s the cat.
Wednesday, 29 June 2022
And welcome to the madhouse.
Yes, the recent work we’ve had done to our lovely little home may be complete, but that doesn’t mean the adventure is over. No, not by a long chalk.
The skip which has taken up the space usually reserved for my car was taken away on Monday, after I made a call to the roofer who ordered it. The scaffolding which has enveloped our house like some industrial exo-skeleton is only an hour gone, however. And that has had some… repercussions.
In order to set the scene, and possibly make what comes next just a little obvious, it’s probably important you know we (that’s myself and my long-suffering wife, Tina) have cats.
In The Frame
There are three of the cute little, um, creatures (my mum, would disagree with ‘cute’, but then she has a phobia, and thinks all cats are the spawn of Satan’s slightly less pleasant brother), or at least that’s the theory.
This was fine and dandy right up to the point Sunny (the cat in question) took a step too far and couldn’t work out how to get back (it was a short walk in a straight line and a small hop back through the window, but then, she’s not the brightest).
It triggered some loud protestations on her behalf, and a good hour of cajoling, convincing, and pleading for her to return to base. Something that fear and frustration had seemingly made impossible, as she remained frozen in place for a while before eventually descending to the flagstones.
Now, this should have been a win, and in the normal course of events it would have been. Unfortunately, the same scaffolding that had presented Sunny with such irresistible temptation also blocked the only door leading from the house to the back garden, as well as the door that allows entrance through the garage. Having done all we could, we tried to get a few hours of sleep and come back to the problem in the morning. And thus started season one of The Mystery Of The Missing Cat.
When we looked out of the window the next morning, there was simply no Sunny to be seen. We called for her, rattled food packets, and even resorted to trawling the streets shouting her name, but there was nothing. Not one sight, nor one sound.
At least, not until Sunday.
Through The Square Window
That was when, upon glancing by happenstance through the glass of the back door, I spied a small feline figure sat in the garden as if she owned it, and absolutely nothing was unusual or worthy of any fuss whatsoever (so, basically, being a cat). This just left the slight issue of getting her back in the house, which, as the scaffolding was still in place, proved impossible.
Sunny wasn’t about to go near the wood and metal that had been the scene of her anxiety, you see, and we still couldn’t get past the planks and metal tubes to help her to get over it (both metaphorically and literally). Tina did have a short, aborted attempt, but as that was more than likely to involve an appearance on You’ve Been Framed, a trip to casualty, or both, I’m glad she eventually saw something like sense.
It was an impasse which has persisted over these last few days. Towards evening, or in the early morn, Sunny will appear but she can’t (or won’t) get to us, and we can’t get to her. Hopefully, now that the scaffolders have deigned to return (just three short weeks after their first visit) to take away their work, tonight might see the wanderer return for a good meal, a fuss and a love, and the mother of all tellings off.
Now where can I get a really, really, big net?
Until next time
Hey, folks! If you would care to take a look at some of my more creative writing, then the links below will transport you to the magical worlds of a few anthologies my short (and in two cases, very short) stories have been included in. Feel free to check ’em out!
New Tales Of Old: Volume 2
The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu
Wednesday, 22 June 2022
Everything comes to an end.
Sometimes this is a sad thing. The end of an era. The passing of a generation. The full stop at the end of the sentence. Fini. Done. The End.
Then again, there are some things in which the end comes not too soon, but bang on time, and this last week has brought just such an ending.
Wednesday, 15 June 2022
There’s only a matter of days left, a mere collection of hours, which I just know will fly by, leaving me exposed and vulnerable like I’ve never been before.
This is the weekend we stand as witness to major changes in both my life and that of my wife, Tina.
This weekend the surgery starts.
This weekend the roof comes off our house.
Wednesday, 8 June 2022
There are plans afoot.
Well, maybe not afoot. A-wheel maybe?
Regardless of which expression fits best, there are plans, and they are underway. Forward momentum has been achieved. Not a lot of it, you understand, but some. It’s really quite exciting.
As to the nature of those plans, well that has a lot to do with a trip away and big days of celebration… on two fronts.
The first item that calls for a spot of formal revelry is the small matter of my step-daughter, Sarah being a right old clever clogs and passing her degree in Paramedic Science, the ceremony for which is scheduled for the back end of July.
It will be the usual affair when it comes to these things (or so your uneducated blogger is led to believe). There will be mortar boards, gowns, diplomas rolled up tightly and secured by ribbons. There will be ceremony, speeches, a procession of people neither I nor Tina, my rather amazing wifey, have ever met and possibly never will, who will shake hands receive said tightly rolled diploma and then exit stage left (or possibly right). But in the middle of all of that there will be Sarah, and a few minutes of pride and reflected glory; making the whole rigmarole more than worthwhile.
If I’m allowed in.
As I mentioned, Sarah is my step daughter and although she has been in my life since she was ten, she is not the fruit of these particular loins. That distinction belongs to Tina’s first husband. Thus it is, that with only two tickets to the event being provided per student, and at least three interested parenting parties (I’m unsure of Sarah’s dad’s current partner’s intentions) the maths becomes somewhat impossible. The chance of a third ticket is currently being investigated but, should one not be forthcoming, I think it’s only right to bow gracefully out and let the actual parents do the beaming with pride thing in my stead while I find a pub in which to toast the graduation (and possibly catch some sport on Sky or BT) in. Securing for myself the moral high ground in all and every argument from here to just this side of eternity.
The other option would be to retire to the hotel.
Now, I’m not world renowned for my organisational skills, but on this occasion I think I can be given a little credit for actually being on the ball. The hotel in question, you see, is booked.
One room we stayed in on a previous visit, although classed as accessible by Late Rooms proved to be up a flight of stairs. Another had been built with a ramp blocking the room door (we got moved from that one). It meant that as we turned our attention to getting something booked, we resolved to do so early and to actually contact the hotels themselves before parting with any of our hard(ly) earned cash.
And my word, did I think I’d pulled a blinder. After an hour or two of searching I thought I’d come up with the ideal place. A clean, modern looking hotel, that was bright and spacious, in the right area (London being approximately the size of a small country), bragging full accessibility for wheelchairs, including a choice of wet-room or lowered bath, and available for the measly sum of £300 for our four selected nights.
What the website never mentioned was that it was £300 a night… A night.
So, with one rather nice hotel with a rather misleading website struck off our list we finally landed on a good old Travelodge which offers a wet-room (as well as unlimited breakfast) for only £150 more, leaving just travel and that one other special occasion to firm up the plans for. A small matter of Tina and I celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary.
So, yes, plans are af… underway, and a small part of at least one of them is accomplished. There’s just the small matter of entertainment and, um, transport to worry about now, and with over six weeks to go that should be fairly easy.
Until next time
Hey, folks! If you would care to take a look at some of my more creative writing, then the links below will transport you to the magical worlds of two anthologies my short (and in two cases, very short) stories have been included in. Feel free to check ’em out!
New Tales Of Old: Volume 2
The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu
Wednesday, 1 June 2022
Hello, dear readers!
I think it’s fair to say we all love a party, right?
Well, maybe not all of us. I mean, I’m sure there are some of us who find the idea of crowds, and noise, and fuss, and everything else that goes with such super-sociable events a little too much. On the main though, on balance, I think, as long as there’s a kitchen to slink off to, most people can at least put on a plastic smile and bear up under the strain of a party every now and then. I know I can.
Saying that, it does depend, just a little, on the reason the party is being thrown.
For those who have yet to see through my thinly veiled allusion, the party I’m focussed on at the moment is the platinum jubilee of our very own Queen Elizabeth II which is being celebrated over the next four days.
Wednesday, 25 May 2022
Now this one might get a little ranty.
It wasn’t meant to, truly it wasn’t. I had a nice wholesome blog lined up, all about the football team I support pulling off a last game miracle to stay in The Premier League, just how drunk I got as a result, and all the hi-jinks somewhat-more-sober me can remember getting up to.
Event’s, however, have overtaken me, and, well, yes, it might well get a little ranty from here on in.
Those of you with the dubious pleasure of following these random musings will know I try to keep things light, on the whole. I try for a degree of levity, perhaps even a pinch of irreverence. I might not always hit the bullseye but, hey, the efforts there.
Today , such an attempt would seem a little empty, given the news from both sides of the channels, so sorry Tina (That’s the ever-awesome wife, if you didn’t know), this one will definitely not be funny.
Wednesday, 18 May 2022
Jolly nice weather for it, isn't it?
As I type, admittedly from the cosy sanctuary of my front room, the sun is smiling down on the world (or at least this humble slice of it) while a gentle breeze moves through the branches of the trees, lending the day a subtle and much appreciated freshness which can only be of benefit to the washing on the line.
It’s an idyllic scene, one that lifts the heart, and turns my mind to the opportunities to get out and about that such clement weather presents.
But, of course, it’s never quite that simple.
Wednesday, 11 May 2022
These are strange times we live in.
I think that might just go down as an understatement. Over the last two years life has changed for so many of us, in so many ways that it became almost unrecognisable.
Normality, that ever-changing concept, mutated so quickly and so completely that it seemed nothing would ever be quite the same again.
And then, of course, it goes and changes all over again.
Wednesday, 4 May 2022
This one is going to get political.
Yeah, I know. I’m guessing that statement alone was enough to get some of you to do the blog equivalent of changing the channel, turning off the telly, plug your ears and leave the house, locking the door behind you.
And I can understand, truly I can, but this? Well, this is important, for the local elections are upon us.
Wednesday, 27 April 2022
Spring is well and truly in the air, isn’t it?
I think the clocks going forward is a big part of that. The lighter evenings slotting nicely into place even as days get longer and the nights ever shorter. Add in the fact I’ve graduated from jumper to T-shirt in the last week or two, and even gone out in such an outfit on the sunnier days (of which there’ve been a few), and yes, it all adds up to the turning of the seasons guiding us to a warmer, brighter future.
And it’s about time, ‘cos winter was getting expensive.
Yep, you guessed it, this week’s blog post is all about energy and what it costs.
Wednesday, 20 April 2022
This may be a short one.
I say ‘may’, because it’s equally likely to turn into another of those ‘stream of consciousness’ type posts (what? You think I plan these out?).
I will, however, at least try to exercise a little moderation, and the reason for this uncharacteristic attempt at brevity? Well, read on.
Wednesday, 13 April 2022
And many apologies for the missing blog post of last week,
The reason for that aberration is going to form the crux of this week’s offering and will, in effect, make up last weeks post, but posted this week (I think that makes sense).
So let’s get into it, yeah?
Thursday, 31 March 2022
It’s a bit like buses. You wait ages for one to arrive, checking your watch or phone every five minutes, perhaps giving vent to a frustrated ‘tut’ every now and then of shaking your head in a resigned fashion.
And then two turn up at once.
Not that this post has anything to do with buses, you understand. No, this week I want to focus on a completely different subject, the same subject I focussed on last week.
Wednesday, 23 March 2022
Right, no politics this week, I promise.
Instead, I’d like to transport you back to a happier, more carefree time. I’m talking about those halcyon days of endless sun and carefree fun. Days of yore, in which things like eating out and socialising could be undertaken without a full cost/benefit analysis.
I’m talking about last Sunday.
Thursday, 17 March 2022
As you may or may not know, I like to keep things light here on The Seated Perspective Blog. I like to keep it bright, breezy, and, for the most part, stay out of the thornier issues which plague this word of ours.
Sometimes, however, that goal is unreachable. Sometimes there are issues I feel unable to turn away from and, let’s face it, the war raging in Ukraine right now is just such an issue.
Wednesday, 9 March 2022
And how are we?
No, I mean it. How are we? How are you? Are you doing alright in this war-torn, ever more expensive world we find ourselves in? There’s a comment section somewhere below this blog, so feel free to tell me, even if it’s just to vent.
And me? Well, it’s nice of you to ask. I’m pretty good, thanks. Life continues to be, uh, interesting at times, but I’m fed, I’m warm, and I’m safe, so all in all, I’d call it a win. Yeah, I’d say I’m doing pretty well, really.
Apart from my eyes, that is.
Wednesday, 2 March 2022
I don’t want to write this week’s post.
It’s nothing to do with illness this time (see here for details on that), nor is it due to any lack of inspiration, or want for things to write about. No, this week there is a definite subject almost demanding to be written about; something which affects not just your erstwhile blogger but countless people all over the world.
I am, of course, talking about the distasteful elephant in the room. I’m talking about the Russian/Ukrainian war.
Wednesday, 23 February 2022
And thank you for your patience.
Last week’s blog was… well, let’s face it, missing. A few lines detailing why that was the case managed to find their way to virtual paper, but that was it. Fini. The end. Done.
Today, I’d like to go into a bit more detail as to why that was.
Now, to set expectations, this may not be a full size entry into this ongoing anthology of random thoughts and petty events. It’s also highly likely that it may lack some va-va-voom. I’m fully expecting a verdict of ‘It’s good, but it’s not funny’ from my erstwhile Mrs, Tina, and the reason for this goes back to the reason for last week’s omission.
Wednesday, 16 February 2022
Hello dear readers...
Today's post will be shorter than usual.
It would appear that your friendly-neighbourhood seated person (I.E, Me) has contracted coronavirus for what might be the second time in a couple of months,
I say might, because, at the moment, I feel considerably worse than the week between Xmas and New Year (the date of the last positive test).
I am, of course, jabbed and boosted so hopefully those lovely little antibodies will soon be springing into action to aid my fractured immune system, but until then I'm struggling to do much of anything at all. I'll be amazed if this post is typo free and makes any kind of sense.
So, that's it, a few unadorned lines to say sorry, but this is as much as I can face. Hopefully, next week will see a return to normality.
Until next time...
Wednesday, 9 February 2022
And welcome to a rejuvenated and reinvigorated blogger.
Yup, the B12 injection I mentioned in last week’s offering (which you can read here) is safely flowing through my old veins, melting away at least some of the tiredness I mentioned, leaving me with an oddly motivated mindset; which is unusual to say the least.
And it’s all happened with such perfect timing, too.
Wednesday, 2 February 2022
I had a plan, I really did. With my aching back no longer aching, and my bread-free month coming to a successful conclusion (with a celebratory pizza, no less), I planned to make this post a positive affair, a forward-looking post full of joy and optimism for a healthier, hardier me.
Sadly, this was not to be.
No, as is so often the way with these things, events have overtaken me, and, as a result, this week’s offering will have to concentrate on said events and the unhelpful, cumulative effect they seem to have had on yours truly.
Because I’m tired.
Wednesday, 26 January 2022
Well, it was bound to end sometime.
Yes, after a healthier start to the year, driven by eating more fruit and veg and cutting the bread out completely, which has led to a brighter, livelier me, and the possible loss of a few pounds from the old waistline, things have taken a turn for the worse.
Not that I’ve stopped the eating regime, you understand. I’ve not given in to the urge to sneak the odd bagel or hit the takeaway too many times. No, the reason for the decline in my health has nothing to do with the diet, nothing to do with the gut.
It’s to do with my back.
Wednesday, 19 January 2022
And welcome to a healthier, brighter, blogger.
Yup, the health kick I mentioned in my last offering is going well, and paying dividends. More veg, no bread, and less reliance on tinned and pre-packaged meals, has meant I feel lighter, brighter, and, on the (very) odd occasion, strangely motivated. It makes for a pleasant change.
The question then becomes what to do with all this newfound energy. Do I expend it on long trundles in the cold winter mornings? Pick up a new hobby? Re-join the gym?
Yeah, you’re right, that last one was a joke.
As it happens, it’s a bit of a moot point at the mo, because the start of this week has been busy enough.
I mean, it started okay, but I soon fixed that.
Wednesday, 12 January 2022
It’s that feeling that some unlikely combination of events has taken place which conspire, in near perfect harmony, to bring about some unexpected and oft welcome outcome.
A bit like the so called Partygate scandal rocking 10 Downing Street which could (hopefully) cause an upheaval in the political sphere of seismic proportions, and bring down, if not a Prime Minister, then a whole political party, occurring on and around the day I put aside to write this blog.
So, yeah, I’m not writing about that.
Wednesday, 5 January 2022
And may you have the happiest of new years!
The observant amongst you may have noticed that last week’s post was conspicuous by its absence, and there was a reason for that, one which means this particular entry will be slightly shorter, and slightly less dazzling in its self-effacing prose.
But what, you may ask, could have caused this state of affairs? Was Xmas a little too merry? Was New Year a tad too happy?
Well, in a word, no. In fact, the reason for the missing post is less about overdoing things and more to do with an unexpected Xmas present that didn’t even come with a receipt.