There is always room for something else you don't need

Resistance is useless!

Ah, how those prescient words of the Darleks came back to me this morning!  Actually, they came back to me yesterday, but it was on charge and so it didn’t really count until, fully charged today, it did its thing.

            As Doctor Johnson so very neatly put it when Boswell tried to distract him from playing Candy Crush on his iPad, “A man who is tired of gadgets is tired of life!”  And who am I, a mere poet-taster to go against the Great Man’s words!

            Which is a roundabout way of explaining that, as we went out to lunch to add another venue to Toni’s blog (http://catalunyaplacetoeat.blogspot.com.es) I pressed the button which brought my new robot hoover to life.  Toni has christened him with a name that I have instantly forgotten and we sallied forth, leaving said Robot to ‘do’ the second floor.  Needless to say, I had already checked that he had some sort of sensor to stop himself hurtling downstairs.

            When we came back he was bleating plaintively, asking to be fed and was in a different room from the one that I had placed him in before we went out – so that much prove something.  And there was dust in the little container for collecting such stuff.  Tomorrow the living room and kitchen because, after all, the whole point of these things is not only do you not do the hoovering, but also you are most pointedly not there while it is being done.  So we will be forced to go out to lunch again tomorrow, just so the hoovering can be done!

            Toni is still deeply sceptical (though also just as clearly deeply fascinated) and I am delighted.  This happiness will last up until the internal batteries explode or the brushes wear out or both.  And it is only then that I find that the only replacements are hideously expensive and only available from a small village in some outlandish province in deepest, darkest China.  Ah well, as I have always said with gadgets, “Enjoy!  Before built-in obsolescence catches up with you.”  Wise, if sad, words.

Send the bloody thing in!

How many partners of those doing an Open University course have had occasion to voice the deathless words in the title?

            They have had to suffer detailed descriptions of the bureaucracy (and I still can’t spell that word, thank god for Word and its dictionary – though sometimes I so mangle the letters that even the ever-patient Word can offer no suggestions) and, these days the electronic hoops through which one has to jump before the work can get where it needs to go.

            It is at times like this that one of the sayings in my family comes into its own: “Anything is better than nothing!”  I do realise that this is not always true in all cases, but it is sufficient to give a little kick up the academic backside when necessary and so it justifies its existence.  And I think that I would maintain that it is more true than wayward in most cases!

            All the necessary work for my next piece of work has been done.  It is just putting it in words that it the difficult bit.

            I have, as usual, and much to Toni’s amazed disgust, left what I have to do until the last minute.  It isn’t actually, but, as I am going to Barcelona tomorrow I really should get it out of the way before it is due on Thursday at mid day British Time.

            As this piece of work is unmarked and merely a guide to initial thoughts (through compulsory) you would have thought that it would be a relatively easy thing to polish off.  It isn’t.  And continues to be problematic.

            Why, I hear you ask, am I not working at it rather than writing this?  I reject the idea that this is displacement activity – though, god knows, I could write a fairly comprehensive handbook on the subject – it is merely releasing my writing flow.  I regard this in the same way as a sort of ‘freewrite’ where the words flowing from my fingertips will, inevitably, result in the academic stuff that I should be writing being released.

            Perhaps I should put it to the test, as I would like to sleep this evening and not stay awake wondering if I will have the time to get the thing done before the deadline.  And we all know, thanks to the publicity which is given to the American Civil War, exactly what that phrase meant in reality!

To short?

The weather has definitely changed for the better.  It is still blustery and if you are in shadow it is not warm, but on the whole you can imagine summer happening without too much mental activity on your part.

            This being the case the question of appropriate apparel comes to the fore.

            I have, throughout the year, been true to my sandals.  My feet, unlike other extremities I might mention, do not usually get cold.  I hate wearing shoes or sports shoes and so I have worn sandals.  I have rejected the accusations that I am making myself look like an ageing peacenik from a bygone age of innocence and bad clothing, and I have stuck to my footwear of choice.  Catalonia is not warm in the winter, though a damn sight warmer than the UK, and I have allowed myself to be persuaded into jeans.  Now that the weather is, or indeed has, changed, the question of shorts presses itself for consideration.

            If it were merely a question of walking about then I might shortify myself forthwith, but the bike is a complicating factor.  I find that riding the bike is colder than walking.  I don’t really see why, it is hardly because I am whizzing along with the wind tearing at my flesh, but it is colder.

            Needless to say, no one in Castelldefels is wearing sandals, let alone shorts.  It is not the season to do that and Catalans are not ones to throw caution and their clothes to the winds just because it is hot.  If the date is not right then the clothes stay on.  And lots of them.  So if I decided to wear shorts then it will only be me.  Not that that has ever dissuaded me from a course of action, but I do have to put up with Toni who never fails to mention the people I have blithely ignored and who Toni later tells me stared with open fascination at my sandals.

            So this is a decision not to be entered into lightly.  I have picked out a pair of shorts that have been left to one side of late and am considering.  Seriously considering.

Thalassa!  Thalassa!

From where I sit typing this, if I concentrate hard and the wind is in the right direction and synchronises the movement of some branches I can actually see a small fragment of the sea.  If I use my imagination I tell myself that I can sometimes make out scraps of whitish things that could be parts of waves.

            What I can see, plainly are lots of pine trees.  They are infuriatingly luxuriant and block out a grade one sea view and make it a fourth rate peep-hole sea view on a good day. 

            These trees, after which the area in which I live is named, grow everywhere.  They drop resin on cars which is virtually impossible to get off.  They drop pine needles which sometimes form carpets of vegetation which stop anything else from poking its head above ground.  They drop pinecones like anti-personnel ammo, and they block drains. 

            They also have astonishingly shallow roots and whenever we have high winds (for us) I secretly pray that the ones that block our view will be uprooted.  They never are of course and, given my propensity for writing poems on trees (see: http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es) this praying for destruction smacks a little of hypocrisy, but that is just part of the rich tapestry of contradictory emotions that make us what we are.  I say.

Determination

And now, I can put off working on my outline no more, this is it, a concerted effort, no distractions.  Write!

It's all in what you mean

Week 1 of cycling – complete!

If progress is cycling both to and from the swimming pool without walking the bike up either of the two ‘hills’, then I have progressed.  I am rapidly developing contempt for pedestrians who will walk in cycle lanes, and a surprising respect for the majority of car drivers who actually do stop when I am waiting at a zebra crossing to get to the next part of the cycle pathway.

            However, let’s not get carried away, as soon as the car park is back in commission – I will be driving!

The loneliness of the 30 min swimmer

Cycling may make you a little more tired by the time you get to the pool for a swim, but there is nothing like an empty pool to reinvigorate you.

            When you want to swim, you do not want splashing people getting in the way, you want to concentrate on the rhythm of your stroke and have as efficient a time as possible.  Or at least I do, and having someone else in your lane lessens the pleasure.

            So it was with considerable delight that the only person who was in the pool when I arrived left it just as I was getting in!

            These pleasures never last, of course and soon – although later rather than sooner – other people selfishly intruded on my isolation.  However, by the time they arrived my swim was almost over and I therefore count myself as having had a good experience and an efficient work out.

            The composition of my post-swim tea appears to have regularized itself into a mixture that I like and I was able to drink and consider in sunshine which was unseasonably warm.

            The notes that I made in my Little Book are already the draft of a poem at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/ and, as ever, I welcome readers!

Bargain salmon

Lunch was in one of the few places in Castelldefels that doesn’t hike its prices over the weekend for a menu del dia.  Unfortunately my main dish will not be appearing in Toni’s blog because I was halfway through it before I remembered about the camera.  My starter of Caesar Salad was photographed and was delicious.

            We were very lucky to get a table and it was only because our timing was immaculate that we were able to segue our way into a table that became vacant as we walked in through the door.  We were also recognised by the owner and as reasonably good customers it was in his interest to see us seated.  An excellent meal.

Open season!

The forums in the Open University are beginning to become a little more strident as the range and quantity of work that is being asked of us increases.

            The End of Module Assessment is causing various levels of hysteria, especially as we are nearing the cut off date for the submission of a very detailed pro forma outlining what we intend to do.  This pro forma is not given a mark, but if you don’t complete it you fail the course!  That concentrates minds I can tell you.

            My choice of paintings and artist is a little off centre and the choice of critical documents that I have to use it a little difficult.  However, I am encouraged by recent comments by my tutor who seems to be fairly flexible in an approach will might see me subvert (a favourite word in this particular course) one piece which is feminist in tone and re-imagine it as a representative piece of Queer Theory polemic.  Gender criticism is amenable to twisting.  At least I hope it is.  Because that is what I am going to do.  And soon!

A month is a long time

Day 2 of the cycling.

And the chain came off the gears!  Luckily it happened when I was within easy walking distance of the house, but it was a disturbing moment and, although I was sure that it could be repaired, or replaced without too much effort.  I did not intend to find out.  I fell into Toni’s arms, tearing a small, cambric handkerchief and having a fit of the vapours.  Metaphorically.  It did the trick and, eventually, Toni agreed to show me how to put the bloody thing back.

            The good thing about this lesson is that I obviously need to do more shopping.  I seem to remember that in the dim and distant past there used to be a mini satchel attached to the back of the seat holding essential tools for on-road repairs.  I have no intention whatsoever of doing anything more technical that undoing the three screws that hold the chain guard in place, but I like the idea of further purchases.  And after all, a month is a long time when you don’t really like cycling but have no other way (I’m NOT walking) to find a parking space in the building site that is the leisure centre at the moment.

            I know I make my cycling journey sound like something epic, and in fact the leisure centre is not that far from the house, but it is an unusual form of transport of a confirmed driver like myself and so it gives a whole new view of the world.

            I now hate drivers.  They are all inconsiderate bastards and they care nothing for non-polluting cyclists who are trying to save the world.  Damn them all to hell!

            The truly amazing thing is how cyclists seem to grow horns and tails when seen from behind the windscreen of a car!

Back to almost normal

Toni’s tummy is now functioning properly and so we were able to go out and celebrate with a menu del dia in one of our favourite restaurants with an uninterrupted view of the sea: La Rincon de Lola.  We had our favourite circular table in the window and the meal was as good as usual, though the service was a little slow.

            The place is undergoing refashioning and each new improvement makes us worry about their taking advantage and upping the price.  At the moment everything is the same – and recommendably excellent value!  We are just hoping that their improvements are to increase their seating area and to increase their prices!  We shall see.

OU meltdown!

A new volume of descriptions of Conceptual art is threatening us; an outline of our project has to be handed in and a further essay is required.  There are CDs to listen to and DVDs to watch.  This particular point seems like a crisis point in our learning.  I’m loving it!

            My last essay’s mark will be a bit of a low point, as I expect little from my chatty but hardly academic ramble through some ‘difficult’ art, but, as long as I get something for my work it should tip my marks into the acceptable zone and I can relax a little about the last essay.  Not that I intend to, because I like the challenge which the outer reaches of Conceptual (however you define it) Art flings in the face or ear or mouth of the spectator.  This is the sort of art that I love defending just to push people to the final, foaming scream of uncomprehending rejection.

            So far, and this is only in the opening pages of the section we have been asked to look at a notice saying that someone had sprayed an entire can of paint directly on the floor; to think about a series of photographs taken at random that we were not shown; and . . . but I don’t want to add fuel to the howls of outrage that have accompanied the progress of our course, sometimes from the participants!

            This essay will be the last one we have to complete before we turn our entire attention to the long essay or mini thesis that we have to write to complete the course.  

Bring it on!

And my poems, which are not going so well at the moment, may be found at: 
http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/ 

Health by force!

Some things you never forget

The riding of a bike to the leisure centre should not be a big thing.  And it wasn’t.  But it wasn’t nothing either.

            I have studiously ignored my bike for well over a year and, tucked away as it was, it was easy to overlook.  I did wonder about the waste of money that the thing as turning out to be – but that was easier than riding the damn thing.

            The fiasco of tree cutting and car park shutting that now defines the leisure centre necessitated the, for me, extreme action of cleaning the bike and blowing up the tyres with a view to using it.

            Apart from some corrosion on the chrome, it cleaned up fairly easily and even getting the tyres to something like the right pressure was not quite as onerous as I remembered it.  So, with weak determination and a sinking heart I set off this rather dull morning and wobbled my way towards a main road.

            Although I felt somewhat self-conscious in the absurd hat that one is required to wear these days, I got back to my past level of uncertain incompetence on the machine is short order.

            I spurned the hills and walked them – a direct result of following my father’s wisdom of, “If it’s easier to walk you bike than ride – walk!”  So I did.  When I told Toni of this strategy of mine his response was, “What hills?”  We obviously have very different inbuilt gyroscopes!

            When I got to the centre there was all the palaver of putting the bike in its metal thingies, then using the lock to secure it (remembering this time to turn the numbers on the combination!) getting the bag from the back of the bike – I know it all sounds really petty, but when you are used to pointing a bit of plastic at the car and having it lock while simply picking up the sports bag, it does seem unnecessary.

            Well, I got everything sorted and found the helmet thing a nuisance as well, as it didn’t fit easily in the bag and then it was too large for . . . perhaps I am making too much about this, but it was different and it broke the routine.  I didn’t like it.

            The post-swim offered me a choice.  I could go home and then take the car to get the lunch, or I could cycle to the centre of Castelldefels and bring the lunch home on the bike.

            After a moment’s hesitation I decided to throw caution to the wind and espouse the cause of exercise and bike it!

            It was a bloody sight further than I thought and I am now possessed of a homicidal zeal against pedestrians who walk in cycle lanes.  I am thinking of fitting Boudicca-like blades to the hubs of my wheels for cleansing purposes!

            I don’t know, perhaps it’s all psychological, but I fancy that lunch tasted better because I inched fractionally nearer the hunter/gatherer idea of food providing rather than simply going to get it by car!

            The euphoria of unaccustomed exercise lasted right up until I realized that I would have to do the same thing tomorrow and for the next month.

            And before anyone suggests it, I do not think for a moment that I am going to be the sort of person who, after a month of using the bike will say that he couldn’t imagine reverting to the car again and that it had been a life changing experience.  No chance.

Why are poems never easy!

The poems, if not the note taking, have degenerated to doodles on otherwise perfectly nice pieces of paper, or more positively of lines of nothing approaching verse being scribbled out.  I am convinced that I have some good ideas, but the words are not working at the moment.

            With that glowing testimony to my poetic ability, I urge you to see what I have written recently at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es and I hope that there will be something more added to that collection by the end of the week.

United Nations Day 2015

A few phone calls today about The Meal & Celebrations.  It’s only March and preparations are being made.  I think that I am going to have months of pleasure out of the arrangements for United Nations Day this year; what with visitors, menu planning and publication of the book.

            I am already looking forward to the collection of friends who will be here in Castelldefels this year and I am determined to give them as good a time as it is possible to imagine.

            One particular piece of planning also calls for the design of labels, but after lengthy discussions between Toni and myself we have decided on two important words to be printed on them!  This is one piece of travelling to Castelldefels that I can guarantee that my visitors will not be expecting!

            When I tried to discuss the menu with the owner of the restaurant where we will be going he evinced a particularly Spanish aversion to forward planning on the time scale to which I was working!  We have had to relax and believe that everything will only come together well in this country if you leave things until almost the last minute.  I have no intention whatsoever of doing that and will start a stealth planning campaign to keep my sanity!