There's no good time for a computer system which is in daily use to go down. I'd been expecting mine to die for a while, and had been thinking long and hard about what I needed for the past couple of years. Bought in 2005, there was no doubt mine was extremely outdated. It had XP as its operating system, support for which was withdrawn a few years ago. It was a good operating system, but my PC didn't have the processor speed or RAM to cope with an upgrade, nor (I suspect) the internal space for new cards etc. so it became one of those 'if it's not broken, don't fix it' things. However, as versions of operating systems and the main Microsoft Office package moved on, it became increasingly difficult to maintain compatibility. I bought a terabyte external hard drive a few years ago as backup, and then started using it as my main storage too, as the 145 GB hard drive seemed permanently full and the whole thing was getting slower and slower. Then my dear old PC started making some alarming noises (especially when Norton kicked in and hogged the processor). So I started looking seriously at what I would need by way of RAM, processor speed and storage, checking the requirements of the applications I rely on. At least a new computer with up-to-date apps would support more work potential for Plan B.
My stepson, who works in the industry, observed that it didn't much matter what I went for, as it would be so much better than what I had. Knowing that modern apps come with system requirements, I'm unconvinced.
As a friend who used to work in IT sales observed, it's a minefield out there, and this may be an understatement. Computer hardware and software are fast-moving beasts. When I started looking, Windows 7 was just moving to 8, and then almost in a blink of an eye to 8.1 with Office 13 the latest thing. Each upgrade required more RAM, more processor speed, more storage, and more of anything means more expensive too.
My Dad and I had been talking about getting a PC built to order, but I thought this might be an expensive way to go, and it seemed like it was necessary to know more about chipsets, graphics processors and internal gubbins than I could get my head around. I'd got to the point where I thought I probably needed a laptop to act as a backup system and provide a flexible, mobile solution (it's great having a smartphone, but I'm hardwired for a qwerty keyboard and preferably a mouse, and proper word processing capabilities at the very least),
And then, just as I was starting the running order for the Cardigan Belly Dance Festival a little over a fortnight away, and just as I had seen an email requesting changes to a book I'm editing, my old computer went FUT! Literally, with a bright flash from the back and a smell of scorched dust. And a lot of loud swearing.
I used my phone and a library computer (almost as slow and unreliable as my old one!) to do some searching and had several conversations with my Dad about requirements. I went into the local branch of a chain store which sells computers and had a browse around, gravitating immediately to a couple of laptops which turned out to be top end, though not gaming machines, with prices starting at £1500. Typical of me to go for the expensive options; even so, I was a bit shocked at the prices. So many advertisements with offers on laptops would lead you to believe you can get something really good for under £300. Yeah, right.
It's always a case of any two, but not all three, of fast, good or cheap. I needed one quickly, with a reasonably good specification in terms of RAM, processor and storage, and it soon became clear that in order to achieve the latter in particular, it would be rather more expensive than I had intended. The cheaper laptops were fine for social media and online shopping, but wouldn't support any productive work on documentation. Even the next level up, marketed for students, weren't really up to working with the full Office package. We excitedly explored a 2-in-1 Microsoft Surface Book, until it became clear that even the 13" screen with an i5 processor was approaching the £2000 mark, and even then, it would need a faster processor to run the Adobe Creative suite software which I'd intended learning into and exploring to take my digital art to the next level. We'd be looking at £2500 before adding the cost of software and other peripherals, like a wireless keyboard, new monitor, new printer - even the stylus didn't come with the machine, which seemed like a damned cheek for something so expensive.
In the end I chose a machine with 8 GB RAM, 256 GB SSD, an Intel Core i5 DDR4/quadcore processor, with a clock speed of 1.60 GHz, but with a maximum 'turbo frequency' of 3.40 GHz. Just looking at the numbers, that didn't seem any faster than my old Intel Pentium 4 running at 3 GHz, except that it's not meaningful to compare processors like that. Used to a 19" monitor, I went for a 15.6" as the 13" seemed too small, even though I intend to find a way to plug my old monitor in. And like my trusty old workhorse, the new one is also a Dell.
As a not-very-techie-but (I think/hope) fairly competent user (#itsnotrocketscience!) moving from an old XP desktop to a Windows 10 laptop, I expected a steepish learning curve and to have to take time to get apps and other things set up and learn where everything is. The user interface is quite different, so I'm gradually fumbling my way around. The track/touch pad is the best I've used in my admittedly narrow experience of laptops and the keyboard isn't too bad, although the different layout and key spacing from my old one has me hitting hash instead of return a lot of the time and inadvertently putting caps lock on. Having my forearms resting on the front of the laptop while typing isn't ideal - I could do with a lower desk. It's really fast and the fan, when it comes on, is so quiet, compared to my old system. I plugged in my external hard drive and found to my immense relief that I could read and use the files immediately.
I've had it a week and the teething troubles are still outweighing the good bits. I'm permanently in a state of how does this work, what-does this mean, why isn't this working, what am I supposed to do? Grrr, aggravation, right from the start when registering the machine. Why do I have to select business or personal. It's both, why can't it be both, what's the difference? Much of the online help and feedback, which Dell and Microsoft invite, seems to go unanswered, or has answers which take three paragraphs to give no intelligible information and are applicable to a previous operating system.
Things have been somewhat erratic, Having watched something on YouTube, a few hours later, it wouldn't work. I can't remember the exact wording of the error message that came up, but it wasn't clear whether it was a problem with YouTube or the browser, or possibly something else. 'Try again later' didn't work and eventually I gave up and went to bed. It worked the next day.
Having set up the printer, everything apparently okay, I went to print, and the computer told me that the printer was offline. It wasn't. It was on, both in terms of power and on the WiFi network, and the computer could obviously see it because it queued the document. Switching various things off and on, retrying, etc, didn't do anything. I wondered if I needed drivers and went off to look, but found conflicting information. And lots of unanswered feedback and questions about whether Kodak printers were compatible with Windows 10. There was very little information and only one driver on the Kodak site, and something about drivers automatically loaded from the Windows end, which left me none the wiser. A couple of hours later, I jumped out of my skin as the printer started printing the page I'd sent. No dialogue from the computer. What the hell happened there?
The LCD screen seems to have a grey-blue colour cast and isn't reproducing colours at all accurately. I didn't really notice how bad it was until, fed up of trying to find a way to adjust brightness and contrast, I was looking at some photos and found that the colour reproduction was way off. Again, conflicting information - apparently the LCD screen on a laptop shouldn't need adjusting, but this looks like a colour profile issue. But instructions on colour management seem to be aimed at monitors as separate devices, So the suggestion is to plug in a monitor to test the LCD colour reproduction. I'd need a VGA-USB-C adapter and even the expensive Dell version doesn't include this laptop in the models with which the adapter is supposedly compatible, and I can't find any reason why. I might buy a cheaper one just to test it out, otherwise I can't think how I'm going to make any progress with this, short of taking it back to the shop ...
,,, which I'm very loath to do right now, as I'm in the middle of gathering all the music and dancer details for the show this weekend. I have the running order and playlists to do, as well as preparing my own mini workshop and notes for attendees, and finishing my choreography as well as preparing my costume and trying to find some time to rehearse. Some music tracks which played yesterday now don't play today on Groove Music (which was the app which popped up automatically to play tracks). Okay, so I'll play them with Windows Media Player. Nope, 'a problem occurred' and when I clicked the link to take me to the Windows help and support, I had half a dozen lines applicable to Windows 7, starting with 'Unfortunately, specific info about the error isn't currently available'. If not now, then when? And lots of forum posts wondering whether Windows Media Player works with some update or version (or something) of Windows 10. Which left me wondering how I could find out which version or update I had. Again, Windows support was no help, I found what I needed from How-To Geek. See, if they can do it, why can't you, Microsoft? #notrocketscience.
In the meantime, I thought maybe the tracks would play through iTunes and as I generally sync my iPod to ensure I have the show tracks backed up on there as well as on a USB stick, I tried downloading iTunes. And found that apparently it's not available for my laptop. According to Apple, this laptop should be capable for it, but Windows store only offers it for a different version of Windows 10. I managed to find my system information; my version is 15063, the one required is 16299, which is apparently a PC (as in desktop?) version. But again, there's no real information about how to get that build version, what it relates to. The link just takes you through to Windows 10, as if the choice between their Home, Pro, Education etc. editions is all there is. I have a lot of my music in iTunes format and some credit in the store. I've found a link to download build 16299 but nothing that helps me to know if it's safe to do so.
Returning to the Microsoft help and support, I put in the code from the Groove Music error message to find a thread dating back to Windows 7 in 2012 with exactly the same problem, basically that the audio playback stops working due to an unknown error. Again, with non-answers about codecs and third party software not working with Windows, until an addition from someone last year on Windows 10 with the same problem and an observation that YouTube playback is also affected. Sure enough, YouTube has stopped working again.
Oh dear, this post has turned into a rant. All this is making my brain hurt and the hours I'm spending just trying to get things to work have resulted in a literal pain in the arse from sitting for too long. After a week's ownership, I'm still struggling to get back up and running effectively and hoping I haven't made an expensive mistake.
A reflective journal of my Dancing, Gardening, Arts and Crafts, Working, Domesticated and Wild Life.
Showing posts with label Plan B. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Plan B. Show all posts
Wednesday, 1 August 2018
Saturday, 28 November 2015
Not Meant To Be
I'm something of a believer in whether things are meant to be, or not. Whether you attribute it to the mysterious movings of the universe, serendipity, coincidence, fate, karma, predestiny, messages from God or the angels, there are times when you get the feeling that things are conspiring against a course of action. Then you have a choice; fight on and try to make it happen, or accept that some things are not meant to be. Of course, you may not believe in this and consider it a defeatist attitude, that you can make anything happen and do anything if you want it badly enough. I agree that some things are worth giving your all, but some are not. Pick your battles!
Last week I planned to treat myself to a somatics workshop. It's so long since I went up to Penpynfarch and I live even further away now, but the application of what I've learned in previous workshops has shown some subtle but positive results, both in dance and in managing the osteoarthritis.
Knowing I would hit the local rush hour, I gave myself an extra half an hour on the journey time suggested by the AA. The weather forecast was not good; Barney, the second of the Met Office/Met Eireann named storms was due. It would make for a horrible journey home, with a yellow warning for high winds starting from mid afternoon, but I reckoned if I stuck to main roads once out of Llandysul, it would be okay.
I set off on time and had only gone a couple of miles when I joined a queue of traffic into Haverfordwest. It took me all of my spare half hour to get past the town (normally a ten minute drive!), with red lights all the way. It was pouring with rain, blustery wind dumping bucketfuls onto the windscreens and roads. Drivers sensibly slowed down, but I got to a point on a road without a good place to overtake where I was behind a laden cattle truck grinding away at 20 miles an hour. Each time we came to a junction, I was muttering 'please turn off', but no, it looked like it was going my way. I could see a tailback in my rear view mirror, and I bet those drivers were muttering something too.
By the time I had been driving for over an hour and a half, I had made 25 miles - half way - and had a splitting headache. I stopped at a garage for a toilet break and a drink of water. If I carried on in this worsening weather, I would get there in time for lunch, but feel compelled to set off early to avoid the worst of the weather. And I would hardly be able to move after driving for so long. Feeling like a complete and utter wimp, I decided to turn around and go back. Back up over the Preselis, through a pea-soup of low cloud and lashing rain. The cattle grid at Bwlch Gwynt was underwater, and the rain ran in rivulets down the roads to pool in the dips.
It took me nearly an hour and a half to get back home, too; a round trip of 50 plus miles in 3 hours. Knees stiff from driving, I dragged myself upstairs to email an apology, then into the kitchen to make a vegetable and bean stew, one of my ideal winter comfort foods.
I was waiting for a call to let me know the results of a job interview the previous day, but didn't get the call until a week later. It was a 'no', but at least they called with feedback, reinforcing my feeling that they would have been a good company to work for. Another thing that wasn't meant to be.
As I was writing this, I checked my email for a reply to another application, which seemed to be taking a long time. Sure enough, I had an email at last ... and it was a 'no'. It left me wondering what it takes, since I was sure I'd effectively ticked every skill and attribute in the job and personnel description. I can only hope that the two friends I know who were after the same job at least get an interview.
I've been pouring energy into trying to find employment, searching job sites, updating CVs, sending applications, reading around companies and skills in preparation for interviews which hardly ever happen. At a time when class numbers and commitment are low, and nobody seems to have money for anything which they consider non-essential (including proofreading!) I had hoped that employment would give me some money and security. Perhaps that's not meant to be.
Time to look again at my Plan B, and see what it would take to make it (or something like it) work. It will probably be a case of fighting to make it happen, but I would like to think that this time next year, things will be different.
Last week I planned to treat myself to a somatics workshop. It's so long since I went up to Penpynfarch and I live even further away now, but the application of what I've learned in previous workshops has shown some subtle but positive results, both in dance and in managing the osteoarthritis.
Knowing I would hit the local rush hour, I gave myself an extra half an hour on the journey time suggested by the AA. The weather forecast was not good; Barney, the second of the Met Office/Met Eireann named storms was due. It would make for a horrible journey home, with a yellow warning for high winds starting from mid afternoon, but I reckoned if I stuck to main roads once out of Llandysul, it would be okay.
I set off on time and had only gone a couple of miles when I joined a queue of traffic into Haverfordwest. It took me all of my spare half hour to get past the town (normally a ten minute drive!), with red lights all the way. It was pouring with rain, blustery wind dumping bucketfuls onto the windscreens and roads. Drivers sensibly slowed down, but I got to a point on a road without a good place to overtake where I was behind a laden cattle truck grinding away at 20 miles an hour. Each time we came to a junction, I was muttering 'please turn off', but no, it looked like it was going my way. I could see a tailback in my rear view mirror, and I bet those drivers were muttering something too.
By the time I had been driving for over an hour and a half, I had made 25 miles - half way - and had a splitting headache. I stopped at a garage for a toilet break and a drink of water. If I carried on in this worsening weather, I would get there in time for lunch, but feel compelled to set off early to avoid the worst of the weather. And I would hardly be able to move after driving for so long. Feeling like a complete and utter wimp, I decided to turn around and go back. Back up over the Preselis, through a pea-soup of low cloud and lashing rain. The cattle grid at Bwlch Gwynt was underwater, and the rain ran in rivulets down the roads to pool in the dips.
It took me nearly an hour and a half to get back home, too; a round trip of 50 plus miles in 3 hours. Knees stiff from driving, I dragged myself upstairs to email an apology, then into the kitchen to make a vegetable and bean stew, one of my ideal winter comfort foods.
I was waiting for a call to let me know the results of a job interview the previous day, but didn't get the call until a week later. It was a 'no', but at least they called with feedback, reinforcing my feeling that they would have been a good company to work for. Another thing that wasn't meant to be.
As I was writing this, I checked my email for a reply to another application, which seemed to be taking a long time. Sure enough, I had an email at last ... and it was a 'no'. It left me wondering what it takes, since I was sure I'd effectively ticked every skill and attribute in the job and personnel description. I can only hope that the two friends I know who were after the same job at least get an interview.
I've been pouring energy into trying to find employment, searching job sites, updating CVs, sending applications, reading around companies and skills in preparation for interviews which hardly ever happen. At a time when class numbers and commitment are low, and nobody seems to have money for anything which they consider non-essential (including proofreading!) I had hoped that employment would give me some money and security. Perhaps that's not meant to be.
Time to look again at my Plan B, and see what it would take to make it (or something like it) work. It will probably be a case of fighting to make it happen, but I would like to think that this time next year, things will be different.
Sunday, 5 April 2015
Decision Time
Have you ever gone out shopping with something specific in mind, searching for hours without finding it? Then, after looking at everything, you conclude that what you wanted must exist somewhere in the multiverse, just not here, but you still need something similar, so you go back to the first thing you saw or tried on? Often with an exasperated friend, who says 'Why didn't you just buy that in the first place, instead of traipsing around for hours looking at everything?'. Or who has no sympathy whatsoever and unhelpfully informs you that beggars can't be choosers and she can't see why you're making it into such a big deal.
Well, the same thing can happen when shopping for a property. Thankfully, in this case, without the unsympathetic friends, because mine have been lovely, keeping an eye out for properties and helping me with a bit of lateral thinking. Even if they don't quite understand my wish list, they appreciate that this is a bigger deal than trying to find, for example, the right dress.
The property search was starting to get to me. I had set up automatic alerts from a couple of property websites, based on a drawn area and search criteria, and found myself checking my mail several times a day to see if anything had come in. The expected flood of properties onto the market in time for viewings during the Easter holidays was still only a trickle. One of the estate agents confirmed that there had been a lot of valuations, but few were turning into instructions. I went to see a few other properties, which all had more drawbacks than benefits from my point of view. Browsing around, I started to notice price changes; with a couple of properties which had been on the market for a while and had dropped their price suddenly leaping back up to their original listing price. A couple more 3 bed semi properties appeared, outside my budget, and were promptly sold. I got a call about another one which was just coming on the market, and hadn't even had all of the details agreed yet. A 3 bed semi 'with off-road parking for at least 2 cars', in a residential close, with a 'decent sized back garden' with patio, decking and sheds. It was on for £124,950 in Haverfordwest, would I like to go and view?
So I did, but was very disappointed. Built in the 1980s, it looked as though it had not been redecorated since new, and smelled stale. Although it wasn't obvious from the photos, it would have needed completely redecorating, including floor coverings. The seals on the double glazing had broken down, so that would have needed replacing too. It felt too small. Downstairs consisted of a living room and a kitchen/diner. Bedroom 1 was a small double, room for a double bed but not a full set of bedroom furniture. Bedroom 2 was a single, and bedroom 3 was a box room. You could have got a cot or a child's bed in there, but not a full-sized single bed. Outside, the render was crazed and cracked across, showing stains from the rusting angle irons around the window openings. The garden was very wildlife friendly, in a good way (bird feeders, bug boxes and vegetables), but the small pond was full of algae and the decking was rotten. You could have got two cars on the drive, but only if both were small. It would have been a good house for a young family, with the money to do it up, but not what I was looking for and I told the estate agent that I thought it overpriced for what was essentially a fixer-upper. I drove back, feeling thoroughly depressed.
I arrived back to a job rejection letter. I'd struck out on all of my applications. I brooded for a couple of days, then decided it was time to make a decision. Given the lack of work, I should just go for somewhere with good communications links, where I could picture myself at home. Given the trickle of properties and the way in which the sort of thing I was looking for was snapped up, I should make a decision soon. I went back to my shortlist of properties. Every time I scrolled through it, I kept coming back to the first place I'd been to visit. Of my top 5, it was the least overlooked, most central and had the largest garden. I checked the Environment Agency site to look for flood risks, landfill, pollution and so on, then realised the house might be in the old Pembrokeshire coalfield. Fortunately, the Coal Authority has online maps, so I checked and found that the area is (just) outside the coalfield, so no old mine shafts or spoil heaps.
So, here I am, offers made and accepted, solicitors and surveyors instructed (although no-one is going to do any work until after the Easter break) and the first of the packing boxes waiting to be filled and stacked (although I still need to find a removals firm). I've started to think about where to put my furniture, what to grow in the garden and having a house-warming party. And all the other things I'll need, like a new phone and fridge freezer, curtains, lampshades.
It will be so strange to be within easy walking distance of a local shop, post office and pub (I currently live two miles away and the steep hills do not make for easy walking!). I'll have the hassle of changing doctors and pharmacy but they will also be in walking distance, not seven miles away. So strange not to have to drive for miles on country lanes to get to a main road, or have a 40 mile round trip to go to a major supermarket. So strange to have street lighting (thankfully not directly outside the house), to be surrounded by other houses and people. So strange to be surrounded by English place names, as I'll be in south-west Pembrokeshire, the Little England Beyond Wales. It will be flatter, closer to the sea, and I'll have a whole new area to explore and get to know.
Strange, too, for my new neighbours, who will have have this strange person playing belly dance music, calling my cats (who will probably hate being confined, first to the house, then to the back garden), and occasionally lighting up the neighbourhood with a moth trap.
How exciting! And stressful ... but mostly exciting.
While I was writing this post, I did a quick search on 80s interior design, just to see whether others remembered it as a disaster area of black ash furniture, wallpaper borders, octagonal mirrors, swags and flounces, ditsy floral prints, pastels, bright red or green with white and strange colour combinations like dark green and burgundy, or dusky pink, terracotta and sage. I found this blog, by an estate agent out in Arizona, which put my own experiences in perspective. I can recommend it for tips on how not to present your home for sale. I sat with a cup of tea and browsed his 'What were they thinking?' section, and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Well, the same thing can happen when shopping for a property. Thankfully, in this case, without the unsympathetic friends, because mine have been lovely, keeping an eye out for properties and helping me with a bit of lateral thinking. Even if they don't quite understand my wish list, they appreciate that this is a bigger deal than trying to find, for example, the right dress.
The property search was starting to get to me. I had set up automatic alerts from a couple of property websites, based on a drawn area and search criteria, and found myself checking my mail several times a day to see if anything had come in. The expected flood of properties onto the market in time for viewings during the Easter holidays was still only a trickle. One of the estate agents confirmed that there had been a lot of valuations, but few were turning into instructions. I went to see a few other properties, which all had more drawbacks than benefits from my point of view. Browsing around, I started to notice price changes; with a couple of properties which had been on the market for a while and had dropped their price suddenly leaping back up to their original listing price. A couple more 3 bed semi properties appeared, outside my budget, and were promptly sold. I got a call about another one which was just coming on the market, and hadn't even had all of the details agreed yet. A 3 bed semi 'with off-road parking for at least 2 cars', in a residential close, with a 'decent sized back garden' with patio, decking and sheds. It was on for £124,950 in Haverfordwest, would I like to go and view?
So I did, but was very disappointed. Built in the 1980s, it looked as though it had not been redecorated since new, and smelled stale. Although it wasn't obvious from the photos, it would have needed completely redecorating, including floor coverings. The seals on the double glazing had broken down, so that would have needed replacing too. It felt too small. Downstairs consisted of a living room and a kitchen/diner. Bedroom 1 was a small double, room for a double bed but not a full set of bedroom furniture. Bedroom 2 was a single, and bedroom 3 was a box room. You could have got a cot or a child's bed in there, but not a full-sized single bed. Outside, the render was crazed and cracked across, showing stains from the rusting angle irons around the window openings. The garden was very wildlife friendly, in a good way (bird feeders, bug boxes and vegetables), but the small pond was full of algae and the decking was rotten. You could have got two cars on the drive, but only if both were small. It would have been a good house for a young family, with the money to do it up, but not what I was looking for and I told the estate agent that I thought it overpriced for what was essentially a fixer-upper. I drove back, feeling thoroughly depressed.
I arrived back to a job rejection letter. I'd struck out on all of my applications. I brooded for a couple of days, then decided it was time to make a decision. Given the lack of work, I should just go for somewhere with good communications links, where I could picture myself at home. Given the trickle of properties and the way in which the sort of thing I was looking for was snapped up, I should make a decision soon. I went back to my shortlist of properties. Every time I scrolled through it, I kept coming back to the first place I'd been to visit. Of my top 5, it was the least overlooked, most central and had the largest garden. I checked the Environment Agency site to look for flood risks, landfill, pollution and so on, then realised the house might be in the old Pembrokeshire coalfield. Fortunately, the Coal Authority has online maps, so I checked and found that the area is (just) outside the coalfield, so no old mine shafts or spoil heaps.
So, here I am, offers made and accepted, solicitors and surveyors instructed (although no-one is going to do any work until after the Easter break) and the first of the packing boxes waiting to be filled and stacked (although I still need to find a removals firm). I've started to think about where to put my furniture, what to grow in the garden and having a house-warming party. And all the other things I'll need, like a new phone and fridge freezer, curtains, lampshades.
It will be so strange to be within easy walking distance of a local shop, post office and pub (I currently live two miles away and the steep hills do not make for easy walking!). I'll have the hassle of changing doctors and pharmacy but they will also be in walking distance, not seven miles away. So strange not to have to drive for miles on country lanes to get to a main road, or have a 40 mile round trip to go to a major supermarket. So strange to have street lighting (thankfully not directly outside the house), to be surrounded by other houses and people. So strange to be surrounded by English place names, as I'll be in south-west Pembrokeshire, the Little England Beyond Wales. It will be flatter, closer to the sea, and I'll have a whole new area to explore and get to know.
Strange, too, for my new neighbours, who will have have this strange person playing belly dance music, calling my cats (who will probably hate being confined, first to the house, then to the back garden), and occasionally lighting up the neighbourhood with a moth trap.
How exciting! And stressful ... but mostly exciting.
While I was writing this post, I did a quick search on 80s interior design, just to see whether others remembered it as a disaster area of black ash furniture, wallpaper borders, octagonal mirrors, swags and flounces, ditsy floral prints, pastels, bright red or green with white and strange colour combinations like dark green and burgundy, or dusky pink, terracotta and sage. I found this blog, by an estate agent out in Arizona, which put my own experiences in perspective. I can recommend it for tips on how not to present your home for sale. I sat with a cup of tea and browsed his 'What were they thinking?' section, and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Thursday, 19 February 2015
Still Searching ...
... for a place to buy, and trying very hard to see past the compromises to the positives and potential and not to feel despondent. It's not that there aren't some lovely properties on the market, but all the ones which make me say 'wow!' are well out of my price range. I'd settle for something which makes me say 'ooh!', but most of the time, the non-verbal accompaniment to a quick flick through the pics is more along the lines of 'Mm, hmm, okay, ah, oh dear, tut, no, ugh, aaargh!', (spot the reactions to large-patterned wallpaper, strangely-coloured bathroom suites, dark purple walls and black tiles in bathrooms and kitchens) with the occasional 'OMG, WTH?' and 'Come on, you have got to be kidding!'
There was an 'ooh' property which came up before I had the money to do anything about it, and was under offer almost as soon as it appeared. It still involved compromises, but I could see myself moving straight in. It was still shown as 'under offer' in the new year, so I sent a message to the estate agents to say that, were the offer or sale to fall through, please would they let me know immediately as I would be very interested. In the past week though, it has been removed from their website. I know the probability of the sale falling through is roughly the same as winning the lottery jackpot - it might happen, but it probably won't. Now, I find I subconsciously compare everything to that property, which makes things very difficult, because nothing else so far has been as good.
As for the rest, there are a few which have capability, but there's always some issue which feels like a compromise too far, such as fronting directly onto a main road, no garden, no parking, has been structurally vandalised (like, removing the chimney and chimney breasts), has a bus stop and/or street light right outside, requires major updating, damp, excessively slow broadband and no mobile signal. Of course, you have to look past cosmetic issues but the price has to be right; removing ghastly wallpaper and giving the walls a couple of coats of paint is not in the same league as replacing expensive, ineffective or no central heating, needing double glazing, new kitchen, new bathroom, new floor coverings, rewiring, getting the walls skimmed, removing terrible artexed ceilings, and so on.
From browsing the available properties for months now, it seems that being semi-detached or end-terrace easily adds up to £10,000 to the price, and for a detached property, add another £10,000 or more. My ideal property is detached, but in some cases it is definitely not worth the money. Many are built on small infill plots, with basically an air gap between one house and the next. I've come across a couple of instances where the gap is too small for anyone but the most slender to squeeze through, and I cannot think how the wall was built (from the inside?) or how any maintenance would be carried out on the side wall of the older house next door. At the back, the 'easily maintained courtyard garden' is just about big enough for a couple of chairs, a rotary washing line and a bin, but is shaded by walls and overlooked by other properties. This is also true of new terraced properties. Most Victorian terraces have bigger back yards, probably because they needed space for the outdoor privy, the mangle and to hang the washing out. As a friend pointed out, most people now have tumble dryers and these places are 'what people want'. I've heard that so often, but if it were really true, would there be such a flourishing number of house and garden magazines and property programmes on TV? No, the programmes and magazines are full of what people want. Most of the time, they settle for what's available, what they can afford and will hopefully match their needs.
Speaking of needs, I really need more income and therefore more work. After months of seeing no appropriate jobs, I've just applied for half a dozen. Tempting though it is to live somewhere on the coast, chances are that there will be a commute to work which could be as much as an 80 mile round-trip a day. I worked out, using the 45p a mile tax allowance, that this could effectively cost approximately £8,500 a year in fuel and wear on a vehicle (not to mention the two hours or so spent driving every day). The administrative jobs I'm looking at aren't highly paid, and this sum would represent at least 50% of income. Even a daily 40 mile round trip would represent 25% of income, which is still excessive. Something to think about, which creates a bit of a quandary. Do I wait for the spring flush of properties to come on the market and see whether I actually get one of these jobs, or do I just look at whatever's available and fairly central? What would you do?
There was an 'ooh' property which came up before I had the money to do anything about it, and was under offer almost as soon as it appeared. It still involved compromises, but I could see myself moving straight in. It was still shown as 'under offer' in the new year, so I sent a message to the estate agents to say that, were the offer or sale to fall through, please would they let me know immediately as I would be very interested. In the past week though, it has been removed from their website. I know the probability of the sale falling through is roughly the same as winning the lottery jackpot - it might happen, but it probably won't. Now, I find I subconsciously compare everything to that property, which makes things very difficult, because nothing else so far has been as good.
As for the rest, there are a few which have capability, but there's always some issue which feels like a compromise too far, such as fronting directly onto a main road, no garden, no parking, has been structurally vandalised (like, removing the chimney and chimney breasts), has a bus stop and/or street light right outside, requires major updating, damp, excessively slow broadband and no mobile signal. Of course, you have to look past cosmetic issues but the price has to be right; removing ghastly wallpaper and giving the walls a couple of coats of paint is not in the same league as replacing expensive, ineffective or no central heating, needing double glazing, new kitchen, new bathroom, new floor coverings, rewiring, getting the walls skimmed, removing terrible artexed ceilings, and so on.
From browsing the available properties for months now, it seems that being semi-detached or end-terrace easily adds up to £10,000 to the price, and for a detached property, add another £10,000 or more. My ideal property is detached, but in some cases it is definitely not worth the money. Many are built on small infill plots, with basically an air gap between one house and the next. I've come across a couple of instances where the gap is too small for anyone but the most slender to squeeze through, and I cannot think how the wall was built (from the inside?) or how any maintenance would be carried out on the side wall of the older house next door. At the back, the 'easily maintained courtyard garden' is just about big enough for a couple of chairs, a rotary washing line and a bin, but is shaded by walls and overlooked by other properties. This is also true of new terraced properties. Most Victorian terraces have bigger back yards, probably because they needed space for the outdoor privy, the mangle and to hang the washing out. As a friend pointed out, most people now have tumble dryers and these places are 'what people want'. I've heard that so often, but if it were really true, would there be such a flourishing number of house and garden magazines and property programmes on TV? No, the programmes and magazines are full of what people want. Most of the time, they settle for what's available, what they can afford and will hopefully match their needs.
Speaking of needs, I really need more income and therefore more work. After months of seeing no appropriate jobs, I've just applied for half a dozen. Tempting though it is to live somewhere on the coast, chances are that there will be a commute to work which could be as much as an 80 mile round-trip a day. I worked out, using the 45p a mile tax allowance, that this could effectively cost approximately £8,500 a year in fuel and wear on a vehicle (not to mention the two hours or so spent driving every day). The administrative jobs I'm looking at aren't highly paid, and this sum would represent at least 50% of income. Even a daily 40 mile round trip would represent 25% of income, which is still excessive. Something to think about, which creates a bit of a quandary. Do I wait for the spring flush of properties to come on the market and see whether I actually get one of these jobs, or do I just look at whatever's available and fairly central? What would you do?
Saturday, 3 January 2015
Happy New Year 2015
Here we are again!
I had a very pleasant New Year's Eve, enjoying my own company. One of my presents to myself was a copy of Terry Pratchett's 'A Slip of the Keyboard', so I ran a hot bath, and lay in the overflowing bubbles, laughing at the wonderfully-written, funny anecdotes, until the cooling water reminded me that I had better get out and dressed (in new, snuggly pyjamas and gown). A growling tummy also reminded me that I hadn't had dinner, and couldn't be bothered to make anything much. I eventually settled for a jacket potato, baked beans and a strange salad of lettuce and beetroot, with the remains of a bottle of wine. I watched possibly my favourite Bond film, Goldeneye - the tank chase scene in St Petersburg has me in stitches every time. I cuddled up with the cats on the sofa and tinkered with a few knitted leaves while I enjoyed the London fireworks at midnight. (You get a much better view courtesy of the BBC - if I'd been there, I'd probably have been watching other people's backs and heads most of the time.)
Some may think this is very sad; the lonely, spinsterish existence of a Jilly-no-mates who should have been out partying with friends, scarfing down various little canapés while swigging fizzy wine, and singing Auld Lang Syne while sentimentally sloshed. Then, considering that you can't go anywhere around here without driving, a sleepover, rising late and in urgent need of a hangover cure the next day.
However, there's no need to pity me, as I really didn't feel sad or left out at all. Instead I felt grateful that I could have some quiet fun, had enough in the cupboard to slap a meal together, TV to watch, my cats, house and home and myriad other blessings.
I kept 'More' as my key word for 2014, and looking back, I wondered what I had achieved.
I managed to negotiate my way through a corporate tax return and company closure for the Community Interest Company in which I'd been involved. The dancing and teaching bit was fun; the company accounts and paperwork were not, but I like to think we made a difference in some people's lives - in fact, I know we did.
I applied for a few jobs (but only got one reply, and that was a no. Oh well. Some things aren't meant to be).
I dusted off and refreshed some of my existing knowledge to gain my ECDL and qualifications in text/word processing.
I made foot and knee physiotherapy exercises part of my daily life and started going to yoga classes.
I had my first sale on Zazzle.
I had my hair cut short, after years of wearing it long (the last time I had more than a couple of inches cut off was when I moved to Wales full time, 12 years ago!)
I learned how to knit socks and was astonished to find I had made 11.5 pairs (the half a pair was the frogged 'Origami' sock).
I introduced myself to lace knitting and learned new techniques for knitting and crochet.
I've extended my knowledge of belly dance, created choreographies and performed them. Class members resurrected the performance group for a brilliant performance at the Cardigan Belly Dance Festival.
I found my sewing mojo again, even if I am finding it difficult to hang onto it.
So, what is the word for 2015? Well, it's going to be a year of changes, the first of which is to find a new home! Yes, I have been bought out of the farm, and although all the properties I'd earmarked while waiting for the transfer to go ahead have gone, I feel hopeful that there will be something with capability out there for me.
So the word is 'Change'. Change is scary, demanding, exciting, necessary. Change is transformation. One of my friends bought me a little silver butterfly pendant as a Christmas gift and I am wearing it to remind myself to embrace the changes to come. Who knows, I might even throw a party this year!
I had a very pleasant New Year's Eve, enjoying my own company. One of my presents to myself was a copy of Terry Pratchett's 'A Slip of the Keyboard', so I ran a hot bath, and lay in the overflowing bubbles, laughing at the wonderfully-written, funny anecdotes, until the cooling water reminded me that I had better get out and dressed (in new, snuggly pyjamas and gown). A growling tummy also reminded me that I hadn't had dinner, and couldn't be bothered to make anything much. I eventually settled for a jacket potato, baked beans and a strange salad of lettuce and beetroot, with the remains of a bottle of wine. I watched possibly my favourite Bond film, Goldeneye - the tank chase scene in St Petersburg has me in stitches every time. I cuddled up with the cats on the sofa and tinkered with a few knitted leaves while I enjoyed the London fireworks at midnight. (You get a much better view courtesy of the BBC - if I'd been there, I'd probably have been watching other people's backs and heads most of the time.)
Some may think this is very sad; the lonely, spinsterish existence of a Jilly-no-mates who should have been out partying with friends, scarfing down various little canapés while swigging fizzy wine, and singing Auld Lang Syne while sentimentally sloshed. Then, considering that you can't go anywhere around here without driving, a sleepover, rising late and in urgent need of a hangover cure the next day.
However, there's no need to pity me, as I really didn't feel sad or left out at all. Instead I felt grateful that I could have some quiet fun, had enough in the cupboard to slap a meal together, TV to watch, my cats, house and home and myriad other blessings.
I kept 'More' as my key word for 2014, and looking back, I wondered what I had achieved.
I managed to negotiate my way through a corporate tax return and company closure for the Community Interest Company in which I'd been involved. The dancing and teaching bit was fun; the company accounts and paperwork were not, but I like to think we made a difference in some people's lives - in fact, I know we did.
I applied for a few jobs (but only got one reply, and that was a no. Oh well. Some things aren't meant to be).
I dusted off and refreshed some of my existing knowledge to gain my ECDL and qualifications in text/word processing.
I made foot and knee physiotherapy exercises part of my daily life and started going to yoga classes.
I had my first sale on Zazzle.
I had my hair cut short, after years of wearing it long (the last time I had more than a couple of inches cut off was when I moved to Wales full time, 12 years ago!)
I learned how to knit socks and was astonished to find I had made 11.5 pairs (the half a pair was the frogged 'Origami' sock).
I introduced myself to lace knitting and learned new techniques for knitting and crochet.
I've extended my knowledge of belly dance, created choreographies and performed them. Class members resurrected the performance group for a brilliant performance at the Cardigan Belly Dance Festival.
I found my sewing mojo again, even if I am finding it difficult to hang onto it.
So, what is the word for 2015? Well, it's going to be a year of changes, the first of which is to find a new home! Yes, I have been bought out of the farm, and although all the properties I'd earmarked while waiting for the transfer to go ahead have gone, I feel hopeful that there will be something with capability out there for me.
So the word is 'Change'. Change is scary, demanding, exciting, necessary. Change is transformation. One of my friends bought me a little silver butterfly pendant as a Christmas gift and I am wearing it to remind myself to embrace the changes to come. Who knows, I might even throw a party this year!
Saturday, 5 July 2014
Property Buzzword Bingo
I've been a bit quiet on this blog for a couple of weeks because things are changing in my life. As some may know, it's now five years since my then partner of 20 years found someone else to share his life. In that time, he and his girlfriend have done most of the structural work on the main farmhouse (which we'd gutted to renovate, pre-split) and I've been living in the farm cottage. We all get on amicably enough, but it's really time to move on. The idea is that they buy my share of the farm, which frankly doesn't amount to all that much when it comes to buying a new place. As a result, I'm looking for somewhere to live in the area west of Carmarthen and south of Cardigan. Unfortunately, most of what's available within my budget is mid-terrace property in the larger towns, in the areas which a policeman friend advised me to avoid. There isn't much available around here, which means I'll have the hassle of changing doctor and vet along with change of email and home addresses. I keep telling myself that things could be worse, but the idea of having to live in a town after over 10 years in the country feels like a backwards step, and it's breaking my heart.
I was initially excited to have a look at the properties on offer, but trawling through them is proving fairly depressing. At one end of the scale, there are the places which need a lot of work, but are too close to my budget limit for me to afford it. Then there are those which are 'in good order', where the first words to escape my lips on seeing the carpets, tiling or other decor are 'oh, dear'. There's a horrible fashion for 'feature' walls, such as a large-patterned wallpaper or an intense colour on one wall in a smallish room. Although I generally like colour, I can feel the claustrophobia start just from looking at the photo.
Then there are some which have been done up so well, it looks as though they've had the attentions of an interior designer. That would be fine if they also had a garden and somewhere to park, but it seems that the combination of all three is impossible. In south-west Wales, public transport is a rare thing and unless you live, work and go out in the same town, having a car and somewhere to park it is essential. Much of the older housing stock, including a lot of ex-council properties from the 1950s or earlier, has nowhere to park. If you are lucky, there is a garden and you can join the fight for parallel parking space in a narrow street. I'm finding the Google Maps 'street view' very useful, as it can give a more objective view than the estate agent's photo, in which you might not see, for example, that the property fronts directly onto a busy road with double yellow lines. Strangely, even some of the more modern housing has no adjacent, off-road parking, and it's a safe bet that anything modern will not have a garden larger than a shaded, overlooked space just big enough to put a small table and chair and a rotary washing line, possibly not both at the same time.
I've had a little look above my budget too. When comparing what's offered to what's asked for some properties, I find myself thinking (or exclaiming aloud in some cases) 'You have got to be kidding!'. Way above what I can afford, there are some lovely, spacious properties, so big that I could rattle around like a dried pea in a tin.
I love that I can get the details and photos online, but the websites could use some work on their filters. I find that I want to filter by exclusion (not flats/apartments, commercial, building plots, holiday homes, mobile homes). For example, I can filter on houses, but that excludes bungalows and includes mobile homes! Of course, the web filters depend on the accuracy of the data input, which often leaves something to be desired.
As for the descriptions! Poor English is making me wince so often, I almost have a nervous tic. I'm fed up of looking for important things like room sizes, or whether the bathroom actually includes a bath (replacing the bath with a shower has obviously been another trend) and finding instead a paragraph of wonderfully meaningless waffle trying to 'sell' the area.
I remember playing buzz-word bingo in boring management meetings during the '90s. We used to copy a sheet on which there was a grid with words and phrases such as synergy, leverage (used as a verb), touch base, blue sky and outside the box. The first one to get a row, column or diagonal won, although it didn't do to shout BINGO!
Here are my suggestions for a property-based buzzword bingo. I would just leave this as a list and cross them off as you find them. I promise, it won't take you long; why not have a game over a cuppa?
You get a point for every occurrence of:
I was initially excited to have a look at the properties on offer, but trawling through them is proving fairly depressing. At one end of the scale, there are the places which need a lot of work, but are too close to my budget limit for me to afford it. Then there are those which are 'in good order', where the first words to escape my lips on seeing the carpets, tiling or other decor are 'oh, dear'. There's a horrible fashion for 'feature' walls, such as a large-patterned wallpaper or an intense colour on one wall in a smallish room. Although I generally like colour, I can feel the claustrophobia start just from looking at the photo.
Then there are some which have been done up so well, it looks as though they've had the attentions of an interior designer. That would be fine if they also had a garden and somewhere to park, but it seems that the combination of all three is impossible. In south-west Wales, public transport is a rare thing and unless you live, work and go out in the same town, having a car and somewhere to park it is essential. Much of the older housing stock, including a lot of ex-council properties from the 1950s or earlier, has nowhere to park. If you are lucky, there is a garden and you can join the fight for parallel parking space in a narrow street. I'm finding the Google Maps 'street view' very useful, as it can give a more objective view than the estate agent's photo, in which you might not see, for example, that the property fronts directly onto a busy road with double yellow lines. Strangely, even some of the more modern housing has no adjacent, off-road parking, and it's a safe bet that anything modern will not have a garden larger than a shaded, overlooked space just big enough to put a small table and chair and a rotary washing line, possibly not both at the same time.
I've had a little look above my budget too. When comparing what's offered to what's asked for some properties, I find myself thinking (or exclaiming aloud in some cases) 'You have got to be kidding!'. Way above what I can afford, there are some lovely, spacious properties, so big that I could rattle around like a dried pea in a tin.
I love that I can get the details and photos online, but the websites could use some work on their filters. I find that I want to filter by exclusion (not flats/apartments, commercial, building plots, holiday homes, mobile homes). For example, I can filter on houses, but that excludes bungalows and includes mobile homes! Of course, the web filters depend on the accuracy of the data input, which often leaves something to be desired.
As for the descriptions! Poor English is making me wince so often, I almost have a nervous tic. I'm fed up of looking for important things like room sizes, or whether the bathroom actually includes a bath (replacing the bath with a shower has obviously been another trend) and finding instead a paragraph of wonderfully meaningless waffle trying to 'sell' the area.
I remember playing buzz-word bingo in boring management meetings during the '90s. We used to copy a sheet on which there was a grid with words and phrases such as synergy, leverage (used as a verb), touch base, blue sky and outside the box. The first one to get a row, column or diagonal won, although it didn't do to shout BINGO!
Here are my suggestions for a property-based buzzword bingo. I would just leave this as a list and cross them off as you find them. I promise, it won't take you long; why not have a game over a cuppa?
You get a point for every occurrence of:
- Any missing or misplaced apostrophe
- 'Boasting'
- 'Benefits from'
- 'Comprises of' (yes, I know it's wrong, but you'll find this one easily)
- 'Deceptively' (or even, deceivingly)
- 'Generous'
- 'Low maintenance'
- 'Spacious'
- 'Surprisingly'
- 'Sympathetic'
- 'Good size' (double points when this description is applied to e.g. a double bedroom in which you can only just fit a double bed, or a garden in which there is only just room for the clothes line and a seat)
- 'Immaculately presented' (double points when the decor makes you want to scream/vomit/run away)
- 'Ideal' (double points when your immediate reaction on viewing is a cynical 'yeah, right')
- Any incorrect description (such as a semi-detached described as detached, two-storey house described as a bungalow or a building plot labelled as a new home)
- Any incorrectly applied data filter characteristic; for example, a search for properties with a garden or parking returns properties where there is clearly no garden, or parking.
Sunday, 12 January 2014
New Year 2014
2013 feels as though it lasted five minutes and went on forever. It
wasn't a great year, but compared to the terrible time some of my
friends have had, it's not been too bad, for which I am grateful.
As the calendar rolled over from 2013 to 2014, I was having a great time in the company of some wonderful old friends, the sort who are more like family, and my lovely step children. They stayed for a couple of days, then got away early on the 3rd of January, just as another spell of awful weather came in. It's a good job they were driving, despite the horrible road conditions, as only an hour after they had left, I heard that trains were not getting beyond Cardiff due to flooding.
I see from my first post in 2013 that a lot of people in the UK had a miserable Christmas and New Year 2012 due to flooding, and it was the same, if not worse, this year. A series of lows brought heavy rain, hail and gale force winds. Early December saw the east coast experiencing the worst tidal surge for 60 years, washing cliffs and homes into the sea. People in places like Kent and Surrey had no electricity over Christmas. I lay in bed at night listening to scary shipping forecasts, with wind speeds ranging from gale force 8 to hurricane force 12! Further heavy rain brought flooding, then more rain and westerly gales combined with high tides to create storm surges, creating more flooding and some impressive damage up the west coast. There are some amazing pictures on the BBC and local newspaper sites of flooded Somerset levels, where trees and telegraph poles show that you aren't looking out to a lake or the sea. The storm surges came through sea defences in several places on the Welsh coast, flooding and smashing properties, breaking up roads and undermining railway tracks. The high shingle bank at Newgale was breached, with stones pushed back all over the road, and I saw an impressive photo of the pub and shop surrounded by flood water which also covered the main car park and campsite, completely closing the coast road up to Solva and St David's. Hotels and flats on the front at Aberystwyth had to be evacuated as the sea punched holes in the prom and waves crashing against the sea wall bounced almost as high as some of the five-storey buildings. I was amazed to see people standing close to impressive waves breaking at Porthcawl. Quite mad - not only can the waves sweep you off your feet, but they also throw rocks around! I thoroughly recommend you go browse for some pictures if you haven't already seen some, and always recommend a visit to John Mason's blog. Meanwhile, much of the USA and Canada has been in the grip of a polar vortex which has shifted south, resulting in astonishingly and dangerously low temperatures and more impressive pictures.
There were thunderstorms later on the 3rd which resulted in the power here going off and on, and at one point in the evening there was a sudden ZAP! and crash of thunder, after which I left the computer off and went to have a candle-lit bath and curl up in my pyjamas and gown with a hot water bottle and hot chocolate in front of the TV. The following morning I couldn't re-establish an internet connection and it took 4 days to discover that the ZAP! had been a comms cable being fritzed. Luckily, I was mostly backed up, and it wasn't the network card or whatever. Being without internet left me feeling disconnected from the rest of the world and surprised by how stressed I felt as a result. I realised how much I rely on just being able to look something up, pop into Facebook, send an email or easily find information whenever I need to. Being without a computer as well would leave me feeling like I'd lost something essential. In the past eight years or so, my computer and internet connection have become my security blanket.
So here we are in January again, a new year but the same old thing - thinking about resolutions and muttering darkly to myself as I try to finish the accounts for the tax deadline at the end of the month. Every year I resolve to have a cleaner, tidier house, to be more organised, to lose more weight and take better care of myself and so on and so forth. I used to beat myself up about my perennial failures, instead of focusing on the many small successes. In the end, though, resolutions for new year (or at any other time, for that matter), are generally just decisions to try to make changes to improve yourself, your lifestyle and your environment for the better and to find a way to do the things you want or need to do.
My word for 2013 was More, as in do more, be more productive, creative, organised. I'm not sure that I managed it completely, (and I doubt anyone ever looked back on their life and felt they should have spent more time doing housework) but it is still a good word. While casting around for this year's word (Plan? Skills? Create? De-clutter?) I saw what friends were posting to sum up their previous year and form a basis for the new year's resolutions. Some had a sort of score card going on. (weight lost: 7 kg; operations: 2; new qualifications: 1; new job: 0 ...).
Perhaps I don't need a different word for this year, or a set of resolutions. All the usual challenges still stand, and the To Do list is as long as ever. It's just a matter of finding the areas for improvement. The winter storms and loss of internet for a few days have shown the value of disaster planning and increased resilience. I need more income (doesn't everybody?). There's nothing like having to solve problems and attempting to do more for highlighting what you don't know. So I shall continue to try to fill the gaps in my knowledge and skills, especially in terms of computers, crafts, and dance.
Bring it on, 2014; I'm resolved to enjoy it!
As the calendar rolled over from 2013 to 2014, I was having a great time in the company of some wonderful old friends, the sort who are more like family, and my lovely step children. They stayed for a couple of days, then got away early on the 3rd of January, just as another spell of awful weather came in. It's a good job they were driving, despite the horrible road conditions, as only an hour after they had left, I heard that trains were not getting beyond Cardiff due to flooding.
I see from my first post in 2013 that a lot of people in the UK had a miserable Christmas and New Year 2012 due to flooding, and it was the same, if not worse, this year. A series of lows brought heavy rain, hail and gale force winds. Early December saw the east coast experiencing the worst tidal surge for 60 years, washing cliffs and homes into the sea. People in places like Kent and Surrey had no electricity over Christmas. I lay in bed at night listening to scary shipping forecasts, with wind speeds ranging from gale force 8 to hurricane force 12! Further heavy rain brought flooding, then more rain and westerly gales combined with high tides to create storm surges, creating more flooding and some impressive damage up the west coast. There are some amazing pictures on the BBC and local newspaper sites of flooded Somerset levels, where trees and telegraph poles show that you aren't looking out to a lake or the sea. The storm surges came through sea defences in several places on the Welsh coast, flooding and smashing properties, breaking up roads and undermining railway tracks. The high shingle bank at Newgale was breached, with stones pushed back all over the road, and I saw an impressive photo of the pub and shop surrounded by flood water which also covered the main car park and campsite, completely closing the coast road up to Solva and St David's. Hotels and flats on the front at Aberystwyth had to be evacuated as the sea punched holes in the prom and waves crashing against the sea wall bounced almost as high as some of the five-storey buildings. I was amazed to see people standing close to impressive waves breaking at Porthcawl. Quite mad - not only can the waves sweep you off your feet, but they also throw rocks around! I thoroughly recommend you go browse for some pictures if you haven't already seen some, and always recommend a visit to John Mason's blog. Meanwhile, much of the USA and Canada has been in the grip of a polar vortex which has shifted south, resulting in astonishingly and dangerously low temperatures and more impressive pictures.
There were thunderstorms later on the 3rd which resulted in the power here going off and on, and at one point in the evening there was a sudden ZAP! and crash of thunder, after which I left the computer off and went to have a candle-lit bath and curl up in my pyjamas and gown with a hot water bottle and hot chocolate in front of the TV. The following morning I couldn't re-establish an internet connection and it took 4 days to discover that the ZAP! had been a comms cable being fritzed. Luckily, I was mostly backed up, and it wasn't the network card or whatever. Being without internet left me feeling disconnected from the rest of the world and surprised by how stressed I felt as a result. I realised how much I rely on just being able to look something up, pop into Facebook, send an email or easily find information whenever I need to. Being without a computer as well would leave me feeling like I'd lost something essential. In the past eight years or so, my computer and internet connection have become my security blanket.
So here we are in January again, a new year but the same old thing - thinking about resolutions and muttering darkly to myself as I try to finish the accounts for the tax deadline at the end of the month. Every year I resolve to have a cleaner, tidier house, to be more organised, to lose more weight and take better care of myself and so on and so forth. I used to beat myself up about my perennial failures, instead of focusing on the many small successes. In the end, though, resolutions for new year (or at any other time, for that matter), are generally just decisions to try to make changes to improve yourself, your lifestyle and your environment for the better and to find a way to do the things you want or need to do.
My word for 2013 was More, as in do more, be more productive, creative, organised. I'm not sure that I managed it completely, (and I doubt anyone ever looked back on their life and felt they should have spent more time doing housework) but it is still a good word. While casting around for this year's word (Plan? Skills? Create? De-clutter?) I saw what friends were posting to sum up their previous year and form a basis for the new year's resolutions. Some had a sort of score card going on. (weight lost: 7 kg; operations: 2; new qualifications: 1; new job: 0 ...).
Perhaps I don't need a different word for this year, or a set of resolutions. All the usual challenges still stand, and the To Do list is as long as ever. It's just a matter of finding the areas for improvement. The winter storms and loss of internet for a few days have shown the value of disaster planning and increased resilience. I need more income (doesn't everybody?). There's nothing like having to solve problems and attempting to do more for highlighting what you don't know. So I shall continue to try to fill the gaps in my knowledge and skills, especially in terms of computers, crafts, and dance.
Bring it on, 2014; I'm resolved to enjoy it!
Sunday, 1 December 2013
So Excited About This ...
... that I just had to blog about it!
A little while ago, I had an urge to look on the government jobs portal. As I am 'underemployed', I am registered on it in the vain hope of something interesting and flexible being available, and every so often it automatically sends me a mail with a list of jobs which theoretically match my skills and CV. (The type of jobs it comes up with makes me doubt their software.)
Browsing through, I found a job for a technical author at a local firm which manufactures and supplies medical equipment. Despite the key words in my profile, it hadn't matched me to the job. I read and re-read the job specification and felt really excited. I was a pretty good match! It was some stupid o'clock, so I slept on it, then woke early the following day to make sure my summary CV was okay, and sent off my application. Crossed fingers, I waited.
I read the job spec out to my Dad, who said 'Oh, that's YOU!' Yes, I think so too. A couple of weeks after the application had been sent and I still hadn't heard anything, I started to worry, so I sent an email to check that they had received it. They had, all was well and I would hear in due course if I had been shortlisted for interview.
Waiting to find out was a curious form of torture. I found myself obsessively checking one of my email accounts and lying in wait for the postman. After a month, I got a letter inviting me for an interview. The next morning, they called to rearrange it. That afternoon, it was rearranged again. No problem!
In recent years, my wardrobe has evolved to match my lifestyle. It contains lots of yoga and harem pants for teaching in, loads of T-shirts ditto, velour and sparkly evening-type things for haflas, belly dance costumes, grotty clothes for dirty jobs and some summer skirts and dresses (which all got an airing this year, disproving the idea that if you haven't worn something for a year, you should get rid of it. What a waste!)
I hurriedly ordered a jersey dress which I liked the look of and which would go with an existing jacket and boots (luckily the toe has healed and become flexible enough to get shoes on, even though it's not really any better than it was pre-op). As it still hadn't arrived after a couple of days, I also found and bought another jacket, trousers and pair of ankle boots. The latter all arrived, and became my interview clothes. (The dress arrived the day after the interview and is a lighter jersey than I expected, but will be lovely as a dress for Christmas.)
On interview day, I arrived early, chatted happily to the interview panel, made a hash of the grammar and writing tests (which then kept me awake and I'm still kicking myself!) and learnt that I have been shortlisted for a second interview. I'm so happy, but also thrilled and terrified in equal measure; excited and stressed.
For the past ten days or so, all this has been accompanied by an earworm since a friend reminded me about the Moody Blues. I used to have several of their albums on tape, and played them over and again on long-distance solo drives while I sang along at the top of my voice, until they were eaten by the tape player or otherwise destroyed. For some reason, I haven't replaced any of them, perhaps because they reminded me of the groove I left in the M4 from all the driving, which I hated. Now this song, 'Question', won't go away, and I keep singing bits. By 3 minutes 30, Justin Hayward's lovely voice has turned me into a gooey mess. Everyone sing now '... I'm looking for a miracle in my life ...'
I've had wonderful support from my Facebook friends, all rooting for me, wishing me well and praying for me. Now I need to calm down, get some sleep, do some exercises to get rid of the almighty tension headache brought on by all thisstress excitement and try to prepare for whatever might be thrown at me on second interview, whenever that will be.
A little while ago, I had an urge to look on the government jobs portal. As I am 'underemployed', I am registered on it in the vain hope of something interesting and flexible being available, and every so often it automatically sends me a mail with a list of jobs which theoretically match my skills and CV. (The type of jobs it comes up with makes me doubt their software.)
Browsing through, I found a job for a technical author at a local firm which manufactures and supplies medical equipment. Despite the key words in my profile, it hadn't matched me to the job. I read and re-read the job specification and felt really excited. I was a pretty good match! It was some stupid o'clock, so I slept on it, then woke early the following day to make sure my summary CV was okay, and sent off my application. Crossed fingers, I waited.
I read the job spec out to my Dad, who said 'Oh, that's YOU!' Yes, I think so too. A couple of weeks after the application had been sent and I still hadn't heard anything, I started to worry, so I sent an email to check that they had received it. They had, all was well and I would hear in due course if I had been shortlisted for interview.
Waiting to find out was a curious form of torture. I found myself obsessively checking one of my email accounts and lying in wait for the postman. After a month, I got a letter inviting me for an interview. The next morning, they called to rearrange it. That afternoon, it was rearranged again. No problem!
In recent years, my wardrobe has evolved to match my lifestyle. It contains lots of yoga and harem pants for teaching in, loads of T-shirts ditto, velour and sparkly evening-type things for haflas, belly dance costumes, grotty clothes for dirty jobs and some summer skirts and dresses (which all got an airing this year, disproving the idea that if you haven't worn something for a year, you should get rid of it. What a waste!)
I hurriedly ordered a jersey dress which I liked the look of and which would go with an existing jacket and boots (luckily the toe has healed and become flexible enough to get shoes on, even though it's not really any better than it was pre-op). As it still hadn't arrived after a couple of days, I also found and bought another jacket, trousers and pair of ankle boots. The latter all arrived, and became my interview clothes. (The dress arrived the day after the interview and is a lighter jersey than I expected, but will be lovely as a dress for Christmas.)
On interview day, I arrived early, chatted happily to the interview panel, made a hash of the grammar and writing tests (which then kept me awake and I'm still kicking myself!) and learnt that I have been shortlisted for a second interview. I'm so happy, but also thrilled and terrified in equal measure; excited and stressed.
For the past ten days or so, all this has been accompanied by an earworm since a friend reminded me about the Moody Blues. I used to have several of their albums on tape, and played them over and again on long-distance solo drives while I sang along at the top of my voice, until they were eaten by the tape player or otherwise destroyed. For some reason, I haven't replaced any of them, perhaps because they reminded me of the groove I left in the M4 from all the driving, which I hated. Now this song, 'Question', won't go away, and I keep singing bits. By 3 minutes 30, Justin Hayward's lovely voice has turned me into a gooey mess. Everyone sing now '... I'm looking for a miracle in my life ...'
I've had wonderful support from my Facebook friends, all rooting for me, wishing me well and praying for me. Now I need to calm down, get some sleep, do some exercises to get rid of the almighty tension headache brought on by all this
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Quietly Up To Something
I’ve just realised that I have been mute on this blog for 5 months! It didn’t help that I had a few problems with my computer. In trying to do too many things quickly and all at the same time, I was making it thrash around in confusion, time out and crash. Now I’ve vacuumed quite a lot of dust out of the poor thing, and deleted stacks of rubbish, and learned I have to shut windows and exit applications, it’s feeling a lot happier and more cooperative.
I admit, I’ve been hibernating a little, but still seem to have been busy. I’ve renewed my first aid certificate, done training in child protection, been to meetings on business planning and funding strategy, done some choreography, lesson and workshop planning and completed the JWAAD Foundation course.
I’ve pretty much given up trying to find a job for the time being. There’s so much competition for the few jobs out there, which all seem to want a qualified, experienced person who can be completely flexible with their time and travel large distances whilst being paid the minimum wage. So I’ve been plotting plan B, with plans C and D not far behind. Spring is here and I feel positive, hopeful, inspired and full of creative potential. And in a few weeks time, I will be 50 ….
I admit, I’ve been hibernating a little, but still seem to have been busy. I’ve renewed my first aid certificate, done training in child protection, been to meetings on business planning and funding strategy, done some choreography, lesson and workshop planning and completed the JWAAD Foundation course.
I’ve pretty much given up trying to find a job for the time being. There’s so much competition for the few jobs out there, which all seem to want a qualified, experienced person who can be completely flexible with their time and travel large distances whilst being paid the minimum wage. So I’ve been plotting plan B, with plans C and D not far behind. Spring is here and I feel positive, hopeful, inspired and full of creative potential. And in a few weeks time, I will be 50 ….
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