Eye see: Part 2

As predicted today saw me heading into town again and making a bee line for the opticians. By lunch time I was thoroughly fed up with my inability to walk in a straight line and my seemingly new found ability to bounce off walls, doorways and random pieces of furniture at regular intervals.

Thankfully upon my arrival I noticed that the half-wit who fitted the offending eyewear was nowhere in evidence. I was not in the mood for trying politely to suggest I would rather see someone else but as luck would have it, optician 'par excellence' whom I have had in the past deal with me, was available.

A few tweaks, the strange measuring of eyes and nose that goes on in this business and hey presto.....I could see again! Yes, she told me, "they will take some getting used to" but you "must persevere...no going back to the old ones, give it a few days and all will be fine". This lady I trust, she knows her stuff and certainly just her tweaking improved the situation markedly. If I as a lay-woman can understand the vagaries of varifocal lenses why then could the half wit who is employed in the field not, I wonder!?

There is of course a down side, it seems I am likely to need a second pair of specs exclusively for use with the pc.....more money, hey ho.

All I want to be able to do is see in comfort......nothing is ever simple!

Phew!

At last I have beaten Firefox and persuaded it to display my template correctly (I think!? notice the confidence here), I have even un-muddled the spacing in the sidebar for the main part....if anyone knows how to get the blasted FF to recognize a "ul" tag, please let me know ....it is all I have left to fix!!

Eye see

Last week, not before time, I at last took the proverbial bull by it's horns, braced myself, or rather my credit card, for the inevitable onslaught and visited an optician.

There was no question that this would be routine and that I would be sent packing with the result of an examination being 'no change'.....my eyes have been on stalks for months, I have tried every manoeuvre physically possible to find a tiny part of my current lenses through which to see adequately and all attempts have failed miserably.

And so it was, having had air puffed into my eyes, I hate that part and they do it three times nowadays, each time I jump like a fool, having read and re-read the same line of letters and had one light after another shone into my eyeball I emerged, watery eyed to a bill of almost £400. This apparently is not excessive according to the optician. After all she informs me, my choice is for state of the art, super lightweight, titanium frameless frames (is that not a contradiction?) and my lens prescription is complicated, wouldn't you know it. These frames I might add are identical to the one's I have been wearing for the last three years but apparently, despite the advertised strength of titanium, they dare not reglaze them for fear of breakage. Furthermore they will not insure them should they be reglazed. Gah, they have you every which way.

I accepted my fate, paid up and looked happy(ish) and today was summoned to collect this new eyewear.

How is it that something identical can be so different. My old glasses where kind of moulded to me, I didn't know they were there, the new ones of course feel like I am wearing someone else's shoes. I was er...'lucky' enough to receive the attentions of the one member of staff who appeared not to know what he was doing and I think a revisit tomorrow will be necessary to fit them properly! Then of course there is the aggravation that always occurs......I can't actually see out of these new lenses. I hate it, I know it's because my eyes are used to compensating for the wrong lens and they have to adjust to the new but that knowledge is no help right now, as I stumble around tripping over invisible things in my path and sit typing this with my head bobbing up and down trying to see the monitor! Heh.

I hardly dare say this.

Shhhh....come closer, I have to say this very quietly, if I dare say it at all, for fear of tempting the Gods of fate and of Blogger bestowing it's worst upon us once more!

Ok, that's close enough.....*whisper*....... Has anyone noticed just how efficient Blogger has become since the half hours planned downtime on Friday? Pages have been opening at the speed of light (well maybe I exaggerate a little but in comparison to the norm), template previews have appeared without the customary 10 minute built in break for coffee, publication has been almost instant and not a post, not one single post have I had to rescue from notepad!

Long may it continue!

No such thing as magic?

I disagree, I have proof, I am convinced, converted, a believer....there is magic!

A day or two ago I posted with reference to the fact that in Firefox my template doesn't bear inspection. To be more specific, the header was centered, the content floating left. No amount of fiddling with CSS or HTML would seem to fix it and even DKG didn't have the answer......he who always has the answer, the font of all knowledge on matters such as this, was scratching his head along with myself.

A few posted comments to say it looked fine in their browsers but for some of us it was a sorry sight. Late last night I threw in the towel and gave up, my minimal coding skills tested beyond endurance.

I promise you faithfully I changed nothing more, did nothing, abandoned it and went to bed.....and then, sometime as I slept, in the black of the night, unnoticed and silently the magic happened, for on waking this morning, still bemused I looked again......... and it was fixed, mended, all in straight lines, not a pixel out of place!

This has to be magic, there is no other explanation. The only person other than myself who has full access to my code, has no access to a computer right now and let's face it, no one is gonna try to hack or crack my account just to fix it!

See...magic!! Real, live, amazing magic happens, it's real, it exists and I won't be persuaded otherwise....DKG saw it too, it was not just me!

;o)

Happy happenings

This week the blogosphere seems to have been full of good news, well the bit I inhabit anyways.

Firstly earlier in the week, the happy end to a tale that had been on my mind for a while. Sque's 17 year old, indoor cat Tia, who had been missing for 19 days was sighted. The sightee sent Sque an email, which she almost didn't read in the belief that it was spam. However, the God's must have been keeping an eye on her because she did, and after further investigation Tia was found stuck in a building. After 19 days of very little food (if any) and water she is a bit on the thin side but is extremely happy to be home, as is her 'mother' to have her home.

So Tia's rescue was the first happy news and then his evening on my arrival home from a hard day at work, I flopped down infront of my pc (no great surprise there), pottered around the blogosphere for a few minutes and found news of the second happy happening.......here!

Neither of these things may change the outcome of the forthcoming election, neither may make it onto the front pages of tomorrows broadsheets, but both are far more interesting and have a much greater feel good factor than anything the mainstream media had to offer this week!

Friday's feast (44)

Appetizer
Name something that helps you fall asleep.
Er....being tired! apart from the obvious of course.

Soup
Who brings out the best in you?
PG....but he can also bring out the worst in me! heh

Salad
What do you like to do on a rainy day?
The same as I like to do on any day......er...be on this infernal machine fiddling.

Main Course
Complete this sentence: In our home, we never have enough...
Chocolate!

Dessert
Which shoe do you put on first?
Lord knows, I have no idea, right I think.

f-f-f-f-flippin' Firefox

I'm defeated, for the time being at least! I admit to being stumped, unworthy, useless, and entirely inept where Firefox is concerned.

Anyone viewing this page in the said browser will know immediately what I am talking about.....this template may be ok in I.E but it is far from it in Firefox. Arghhhh! I won't embarrass myself by telling you quite how long I have been trying to fix it but believe me I have tried, thus far failing dismally.

The 17% of you who hit me using the offending browser please bear with me, for fix it I will and if you feel so inclined as to make an inept and frustrated blogger a very happy blogger, feel free to hunt around my code and tell me what I left out or didn't put in, that has caused this small catastrophe. On second thoughts, I beg you....please, please, please, if you know the answer...... shout loud and clear before it drives me insane!

Let's hear it for the NHS

We hear all too often criticism of our NHS system and yet thus far I have only ever received an excellent level of care at the point of service....and believe me I am no stranger to hospitals.

Little ever seems to be mentioned about the doctors, nurses, auxiliary staff, technicians, caterers and administration workers who all, in my experience, carry out their duties in a highly professional and caring manner. Yes, there are shortfalls in the system certainly but for the main part they are not the fault or responsibility of those who staff our hospitals, or at least not those that we as the service user come into contact with and who are the guys on the front line suffering the day to day pressures and abuse.

It apalls me that each time I enter a hospital these days there appears to be a necessity for 'zero tolerance' notices regarding physical and verbal abuse against staff dotted around the walls of the various departments! Ok, if an individual has a problem or a complaint about the system fine, if it is valid take it up with those who hold the purse strings and make the decisions but why behave like a fuckwit and abuse the very people who are attempting to deliver the service with care and as much efficiency as they can muster....... Utterly amazing behaviour!

So why this outburst? Today, again, PG had an appointment at our local hospital. The term 'local' is subjective here, for it is 35 miles away but no matter, it is a pleasant journey and the sun was shining. This visit was to assess the knee he attempted to destroy the week we went on holiday to my parents. We arrived with half an hour to spare, bought a coffee from the ladies who work volountarily for the WRVS and made our way to orthopedic department. There is a new system in place here for more minor injuries, similar to triage and it worked wonderfully. We were ushered into a consulting room, on time I might add, for our appointment with a highly qualified physiotherapist who was to asses the knee for suitable further treatment. She did just that, politely, efficiently and with a high degree of professionalism. She took time to explain fully what she was doing and the procedure she was going to recommend. She even had at her disposal, 'working part' models of the relevant parts of the anatomy to assist those of us who are not anatomically trained, in understanding.

The whole idea and the manner in which it was carried out was excellent. Why use the resources to employ a consultant surgeon to assess a none life threatening condition, when there is another professional more than capable of doing the job?. In the 'old' system one saw the consultant for the diagnosis, then again to discuss the procedure and again on the day of surgery. The new system employed in this hospital weeds out those with injuries not requiring a surgeons skills and thereby free him or her up to reduce waiting times for those that do.

In PG's case unfortunately he does require surgery but he has been assessed within five weeks of his GP's referral and because of this 'triage' system his wait will be drastically reduced. The procedure will probably be carried out within months, at the outside a year....... not bad in my opinion, for something he can live with and is certainly not threatening his life.

So...let's hear it for the NHS eh? Less critisism for a service that in the main is excellent and whilst it is not free, I for one would not like to have had to pay the true cost of the treatments I have recieved over the years!

Oh happy, happy day!

Cast your mind back if you will, to the not so heady days of last summer, when out of the blue, I suddenly and without realisation, became responsible for my neighbour. Remember? The lady with the dog? Yup, that's the one.

For those who may be reading this and are not familiar with this tale, a small overview:

Said neighbour became ill one bright and sunny Sunday, all symptoms pointed to a heart attack and as one does in times of crisis, I stepped into the breach. She was whisked away to hospital for the appropriate care and I was left with the responsibility of her house, her dog, that I might add requires copious amounts of walking, her financial affairs, the whole shooting match. She is single, her family are all in Germany and she has no contact with her offspring. All this would be just fine had it not been for the fact that once diagnosed with angina and home, she seemed to decide she rather liked my taking care of her and for what turned into months I did her shopping, accompanied her on various trips to the doctors, fetched and carried her friends to an from Edinburgh airport ( around trip of 140 miles) and walked the damn dog at least three times a day to her appointed timetable.

Eventually this situation began to.... er.....shall we say, rather piss me off, I couldn't extricate myself easily from the situation and felt guilty for trying. As time progressed and the months wore on though, with a swift boot up the rear courtesy of a few friends and bloggers, I managed it and I got my life back at last.

And then it began again. Despite my avoiding her eye, not stopping to chat for long and not visiting often she found a new way and now comes clutching a copy of 'Woman's Weekly' or the 'Saga' magazine as an offering to get through my door whenever she requires something of me. Er....like I want to read Woman's Weekly and Saga? I may be old but I'm not that damn old!

Anyway, I digress, her latest requirement of me was to book her return flights to Berlin, I have the internet, she does not. This seems to be a recurring theme, she uses my things and can consequently afford little 'beanos' overseas. I of course complied and the flights where booked. Not enough, having then sidestepped her best attempts to hint that the dog needs a 'home' for the three weeks away, I then had to find her a boarding kennel. Ok, I did that too.

Yesterday, clutching the usual offering of magazines she appeared, flight confirmation form in hand. Oh bloody, sodding hell , what now!? I thought. She proceeded to tell me she needed the flights changed, fights to be in the opposite direction and in someone else's name! Bear in mind here she had expected to pay over £200 for these flights originally and I had got them for her at £45. Not satisfied with this she now wanted to transfer said tickets.

I was about to explode, to commit a heinous crime, drop the pc on her head from a dizzy height, stuff the bloody Woman's Weekly down her neck, or at the very least forcibly remove her from the premises when suddenly life took a turn for the better.

The reason for this transfer..........she is moving and can't use her flights because the dates coincide!!!! Yaaayyyy.

My apologies for what seems like utter and hard-faced unkindness here, but enough is enough and I just can't help feeling........ Yayyyyy, yayyyyy, yayyyyy!!!!

It seems that at last she has realised that at almost 70, in poor health and without transport, living in a field is not the best idea! It's almost sad, as a conversationalist she is great, she can be fun and we used to be friends of sorts but my life ceased to be my own and I won't be sorry not to have to scurry into my own home whilst trying to avoid her anymore. Oh, and I won't miss my weekly treat....Womans bloody weekly!

We need a bigger house!

I admit it, I detest cooking but hell.... how, precisely, am I supposed to cook should the fancy take me, when PG uses the facilities to fix friend's machines ?! ...... no room for culinary goings on here, heh.


Workshop? Kitchen?

A wedding and an alarm

Lisa's post yesterday, regarding problems her husband encountered over the weekend with his new Harley, reminded me of a situation I found myself in something in the region of ten years back......a tale of technology at it's less than helpful.

The occasion was my brothers wedding, quite a flash affair, he not being financially challenged as I am. Having always been a 'petrol head', it was decided that the horse and carriage or Rolls Royce scenario were not appropriate modes of transport for the big day and instead it was decided he would hire a nice car. He could enjoy driving said car for the day and my then husband (that's the first one incidentally) would 'play' chauffeur, to get the newly wed couple to Heathrow in the evening. As reward for his services, he would get to keep the vehicle for the remainder of the weekend, gratis.

As ever things didn't go quite to plan, courtesy of the aforementioned husband who chose to leave me four weeks before the wedding, nice timing eh? This presented a problem on the chauffeur front. No one else wanted to attend a wedding and have the dubious pleasure of not drinking! The honours subsequently fell to me, I am tee total, the demise of my marriage had caused me to move back to London, the location of the wedding, (how convenient) and the opportunity of a weekend playing with a flash car was not to be sniffed at. This new choice of driver threw up a new problem....what car to hire. At only 5' there are more than a few, that without modification I cannot drive, for want of the ability to reach the pedals!

I trundled around a few dealerships, testing the size of various models, until I found something suitable. The vehicle we chose was a Mercedes, please don't ask me what model for I can't recall any longer, but it was big, powerful, beautiful, steel grey with a cream leather interior, convertible and at the time would have set you back just shy of 80k. It wasn't quite what my brother had in mind, he was thinking more along the lines of something sportier but what use is a Ferrari or a Lamborghini when the driver can't reach the pedals and you have three people and luggage to transport!

And so it was, on the morning of the wedding another friend collected the Merc. and delivered it to us. My brother was to drive himself and his bride to be, to the ceremony and then to the reception and at that point I was to take over. First problem....how does one remove the hard top? Five of us struggled, there was no manual apparent but after much ado it was removed.....second problem, where does one store the top half of a car? In one's living room apparently, under the circumstances.

The wedding went off without a hitch, though there was one small hint of the trouble to come, when leaving the register office my brother seemed to have a little problem starting this expensive vehicle.

The reception, at a beautiful old mill restaurant, was to continue late into the night but the newly weds were to be deposited by 18.00hrs at Heathrow for for their honeymoon flight to Paris. I duly took over. More problems appeared.

Firstly, whilst this car may have appeared big from the exterior, as is the way with such elegance, the interior was most definitely not designed for luggage. Secondly, the mirrors and seat were obviously electronic though the controls were not obvious. My brother hadn't needed to move them but 'Ms. short arse' here was required to move both. Again, no manual. We managed the seat but the mirrors were lost to me for the entire duration. Third problem, my mother was suddenly taken with concern for me driving this large and strange car alone for a 100 mile trip and I was posted away for 10 minute to 'get used to it'. Fourth problem. Where does one turn a car of this size around in a country lane.....the answer became apparent, in the mud ridden entry to a field..... with a very narrow gate! Gah.

Problems having been mostly solved, off we went. The happy couple in the back seat, soft top down, massive leather clad roll bar up, most of the luggage in the front passenger seat, further obscuring my view, this was not quite the 'look' they were after but the only solution!

Eventually we hit the M25, bear in mind this was rush hour though the road was surprisingly clear and my brother, marginally miffed that he wouldn't have the benefit of this car all weekend, instructed me from the rear to 'give it some' and see what it could do. I made quick mention of the local constabularly but hey, this was his wedding, we had ribbons on the front and he felt convinced we would not be stopped. There were less cameras then but I was not entirely sure. Hell....it was his wedding after all and so I duly complied with his request, stuck my foot down and 'played' for the remainder of the journey to Heathrow. He was right and we were lucky, no cops!

Having deposited 'happy couple' at their destination, I took the white ribbon off the bonnet and went to 'play' for a while around the West End, this was not going to be an opportunity I would have often, it was to be made the most of.... and then hit the M25 again to head back. Arghhh....solid, nose to tail traffic, but to be stuck in such a car was more acceptable than the norm, after all, when the rain commenced I had an electronic roof to play with!

I 'chauffeured' a few more people home from the reception late at night and then it was home ....this was where the problems really began. Set the alarm? Simple.....errrr not! Eventually in the small hours it appeared to be set and off I went to bed.

The following morning my father and myself had to drive into London again to return the car to it's dealership. Could we get the alarm to de-activate? Could we hell. It appeared there were two, one for use with the top on, one for use with the top off. Which was which remains a mystery to this day, still no manual. This was 7.30 on a Saturday morning and we fought for an hour and a half, with the alarm sounding continually, to restore peace to the neighborhood. Eventually in desperation we found a number for the dealership and called. The only person there was a valet but he instructed us that the manual would be in the glove compartment. Great! Not great! The glove compartment was locked, we had no key! Mr valet man hunted around his employers premises and eventually tracked down a manual and there we stood, now deafened by the constant alarm, in the rain, cell phone to ear, for a further 20 minutes trying to disarm said alarm........big flash car, little stupid driver, annoyed neighbours....not cool!

Oh bliss, oh quietness, oh embarrassment over......the alarm finally fell silent, we hoped and we prayed for it to keep quiet, we could not be sure, we were after all not sure how we had silenced it. And then we had to get the hard top back on....again no manual.....just don't go there! Heh.

Trauma over and off we set. 'How the other half live' became much in evidence. Ok, so if I take my little car to a dealership to be serviced I am lucky to get a courtesy car. On returning this Merc. to it's home, we were immediately provided with a driver, complete with another very nice car, to return us on our journey home! We opted instead, feeling we deserved a treat, to be taken into the West End, where father and daughter enjoyed some R&R for the rest of the day.

Mercedes may well provide very nice cars and very nice services it's just a shame they don't provide very nice manuals that their clients can access! :o)

I dare ya

Blogsurfing this evening I found that Jennifer of Jennifers World had posted a picture of herself at age 4. I have possibly missed the point here, it's probably part of a meme and I missed the plot somewhere along the line but as I have a picture of yours truly at the same age, I thought I would brave the inevitable wisecracks and post mine too.

And yes, it was 40 bloody years ago, no my hair is not still that colour but I hope my fashion sense has improved somewhat and I have ditched the knee socks!

Apologies for the quality.....it was er....some time ago!





Anyone else dare?

Spring has sprung

Comforting isn't it, when things return to normal! Not.

Of what normality do I speak, why, I am British, the weather of course. Spring, as we know it, has most definitely sprung over this past weekend and has hastened it's arrival this morning. Note please that I say 'as we know it', for rain has poured down with boring monotony, the wind has howled and the river that runs through the field behind us here, has burst it's banks. Drenched lambs, looking folorn, have been forced onto slightly higher ground, calves are huddled against what hedges they can find for shelter and every daffodil and tulip that had the audacity to poke it's pretty head above ground is flattened.

Yup....spring as we know it is certainly very much in evidence!