The temperatures have started to drop this week and I’ve been wearing a hat and gloves on my early morning dog walks. For me this is most likely to be a wool or insulated beanie hat if it’s dry and a baseball cap if it’s raining. I wear the baseball cap because it means I can turn my head with my hood up and the peak of the cap pushes the hood around so that I can see and don’t have to pull the hood to one side. Great for crossing roads and general visibility. My gloves are a bit of a mixture, I had some of those posh ones that meant I could still use my phone with them on but I can’t find those since we moved so I’m using whatever comes to hand.
I’m reminded of my childhood too and my Great Auntie Matt. She was a knitter and for Christmas each year she would knit me a combination of hat, gloves and a scarf from the leftover wool she had from whatever projects she’d been working on that year. This meant that I could end up with a kaleidoscope set of protection against the cold. The gloves might be one colour or they might be any mixture up to having all the fingers and thumbs different colours, stripes were not uncommon.
These gifts were a bonus for me as they often came at the point where the set from the previous year were wearing out or had been misplaced. I used to do a paper-round, so whatever the colour the gloves started out as they would always end up blackened by newsprint.
I can picture my Auntie Matt in her little bungalow knitting away. She used to stay up late watching her black and white television, she particularly enjoyed the snooker (despite the obvious impediment) but would rebuff any attempts to encourage her to buy a colour set. She lived there with a succession of particularly evil cats and I can remember one Christmas Day morning we spent several hours at Accident and Emergency because one of those cats had scratched her so badly that we couldn’t stop the wound bleeding.
35 years on and I miss those soft squashy Christmas parcels that kept me warm around to the next Christmas and she was knitting right up until the end.
For most of my professional career I’ve been working in environmental roles of one form or another. I’ve noted changes over time in weather patterns and climate that accord with the predictions that were made back when I first started out. All those chickens are coming home to roost.
I am of course a very small fish in this pond, but I swim in it most days and like the real environment it is more polluted now than it ever has been. There used to be a few of us small fish back in the early days, and we were often branded as alarmist or thought to hold one point of view of which there were many alternatives. If you’ve followed this for any period though you’ll know that there is now consensus on this and apart from sceptics who spout a lot of nonsense, most of the world is listening. Except that it isn’t really.
Although I’ve seen changes in my time and moves to more sustainable sources of fuel and energy, the reality this is really too little too late. After the complete failure of COP27 to achieve a meaningful agreement on carbon reduction it seems likely that we’re in for catastrophic climate change. It’s likely that the poorest countries will feel it the most, but don’t think that it won’t affect you because it is likely to at some point. If you are my age or younger it will. Unless you are going to check out from your mortal coil in the next few years it will.
Should you be worried, yes probably you should be. It depresses me and although I work with some engaged and smart people, there are regular periods when I’m left thinking – “What is the point?” If the big fish can’t get their act together what hope do us small fish have?
Don’t believe the Greenwashing that COP27 is a success, it isn’t. It would have saved more CO2 emissions by not happening at all. It is a flawed and obsolete process that is little more than an exercise in countries talking about what they should be doing and then failing to agree to do anything substantive.
Apologies for the rant, but if you made it this far; thanks for reading.
Well it’s been a while. I missed doing an October update (and it’s taken me this long to get to it that I thought I’d just as well do November as well before we hit Christmas) due to our house move. We moved in early November, but with packing and trying to continue to keep my work going things became very hectic and naturally time to do this was at a premium.
So we’re moved and slowly unpacking. The day of the move was pretty much torrential rain all day and it continued afterwards. I’ve realised how much I dislike the rain, although there are times when I quite enjoy it as well, it’s a bit of a weird paradox that I can’t quite explain.
Leading up to the move as we were madly filling boxes with all our worldly possessions and realising that we have just too much “stuff”, I was still trying to write daily in my journal and had rationed myself to just my Kindle for reading.
I love our new location. I’m walking more than I ever have done, and apart from a few blisters due to not having worn my wellingtons since last winter am finding it just a completely relaxing experience. I enjoyed walking at our old home but never felt it quite like I do here. I hope it’s not a novelty that will wear off.
Twitter
I’m still using my Twitter account, but mostly on a broadcast basis only. I am hopeful that despite all the damage the manbaby Musk seems to be doing that someone else might swoop in and save the day, but it doesn’t look likely. Most people who are leaving seem to be doing so for Mastodon, but I haven’t taken the leap yet, nor am I sure that I want to. If you want to get in touch via the socials I am still on Instagram (@tontowilliams) and you can of course contact me via this website or leave a comment on this post.
Reading
As I mentioned most of my reading has been on Kindle recently, I’m slowly unpacking my books, and have quite a few that I had preordered which arrived in the run up to the move that went straight into boxes. I’ve had a pretty decent run of reading the next three Bernie Gunther novels in the series by Philip Kerr – “The One From The Other”, “A Quiet Flame”, “If the Dead Rise Not” I quite enjoy reading these, although they can be a little bit drawn out at times, and the language is certainly well placed for the time they are set – 1930’s to 1950’s. I also read the “Bicycle Diaries” by David Byrne which I enjoyed. I’m hoping that my reading will settle down a bit again and perhaps I’ll get to some of those preorders just as soon as I find them!
Watching
This will be pretty short, as in the run up to the move and beyond we’ve not had much time for tv, and also because at a certain point all of that equipment was packed and we didn’t rush to unpack it. I will say though that we thoroughly enjoyed the latest season of Ghosts and am looking forward to seeing if the US version which is about to be shown on BBC3 is any good. Also of note, but I can’t say I particularly enjoyed it was Rings of Power on Amazon. It was okay but also a bit meh.
Garden
The category that would formally have been known as “Allotment”. Again I’ve not had much time to do very much here, although I have been making use of the cardboard from the boxes as we unpack to cover up some of the raised beds that we’ve inherited to try and suppress some of the weeds. I have plans for the garden, but it’s going to take a little bit of time.
Work
I was a little bit inundated with work at just the wrong time around the point of the move and had to do a few things on the fly in order to meet client deadlines. Things haven’t quite settled back into their normal routine at the moment, but I am having some long thinks about what I want to be doing when I’m on one of my walks.
Outside
I feel like there is a whole new category I should be writing about. Things I saw when walking or something like that. I’ve been inundated with the riches of the local flora and fauna with buzzards & sparrowhawks and roe & fallow deer. The autumn colours as well. We started autumn at our old house and have caught the end of it here, by the time we arrived it was really at its peak. So maybe I’ll add something here.
If you’re a subscriber to my Fifty from Fifty newsletter, you’ll know that I’m approaching the 50th edition and the theoretical end of it’s run. When I asked subscribers what I should do the emphatic response was “don’t stop, we don’t care what you do, but don’t stop”. This was so heartening to read, but I really haven’t decided what to do. With Twitter circling the drain, I did think posting more here – shorter but perhaps more frequently – might be an answer and I have other ideas for what the newsletter might become. Anyway suffice to say I might be posting more here or I might not. We’ll see, but in the meantime, thanks for reading and stay safe and take care.
Firstly can I say a quick thank you to those readers who have left a comment, voted in the poll or otherwise contacted me privately with views as to what should happen when the counter hits 50. The overwhelming response has been “don’t stop!”, with “we don’t care what you do, just don’t stop” coming a close second. I’ve made no decisions yet, but suffice to say I need to have a think and I’ll let you know in due course.
In the meantime here’s this weeks post:
Six years ago last week was the anniversary of my Dad’s passing. That’s the two of us up there I reckon I’m about 3 years old and he’d be around 38.
I’m really lucky because he was a great Dad, sure we argued quite a bit, especially when I had my difficult teenage phase, but he acted as a role model for me in so many ways that at the time I certainly didn’t realise what was going on.
He remembered the Second World War, being “evacuated” (really they went to stay with family in the countryside to escape bombing of Portsmouth) and gliders going out (never sure whether this was as a latter part of D-Day or Arnhem). He was a member of the British Red Cross (which was where he met my Mum), a Special Constable, a carpenter, worked for Timothy Whites (which became Boots), and for a good proportion of his life was a Post Office Telephone Engineer (which became BT).
He had many and varied hobbies. Gardening (probably where I get that from), making and not making things – he once promised my Mum he’d make her a sewing cabinet, which he never completed. When I was clearing out some of his things I found a copy of the woodworking magazine that he’d been using for the plans:
He was a radio ham, photographer, and general tinkerer in many things. He was heavily involved in the local village fair which was run for the village children and to raise money for projects for the village kids.
He did so many different things it is really impossible to list them all here. I miss him and in many ways regret that we didn’t have more time to talk and for me to listen.
If you have a family member that you haven’t spoken to in a while, take a moment to go and see them for a chat or pick up the phone and give them a call. Life is short and it’s difficult to know when it will be too late to do some of these things so better to do them while you can.
As a kid I used to love the school holidays, they were the times when I spent most of a day in the woods (which I’ve written about before). There was always something to do. We didn’t have much TV and the internet was a thing of the future. There were games consoles but it wasn’t really until the Sinclair ZX81 and then Spectrum became commonly available that computers and games were really a thing.
So what did we do with all of that time? Well I compiled a little list:
Kite flying
Tadpole hunting (seasonal)
Playing – Soldiers / Cowboys / Detectives (depending what we’d seen recently on tv)
Riding our bikes for miles
Building model kits
Reading
Playing music
Playing boardgames (endless hours of monopoly weren’t uncommon)
Building elaborate camps in the woods
I guess I could go on, but there really never was a shortage of things to do. I don’t think our parents ever felt that we were under their feet, although there were times when we would beg for a lift somewhere – the boating lake or cinema – but those both cost real money to do, so were more treats than time spent amusing ourselves.
I used to envy some of my friends as they had (mostly older) brothers and sisters, and at the same time they use to envy me because I didn’t, clearly with siblings there is no happy medium.
My impression is that today is quite a bit different, although I could be wrong. Obviously technology plays a bigger part than it did when I was a kid, but also the perception of safety is a big concern for many parents today. I don’t think we were ever really in much danger that wasn’t of our own making, but I’m not sure whether that is still the case today.
I think it’s also played an important part of how I perceive my “freetime” 50 years on. I don’t think I ever have nothing to do. There are lists both physical and mental of all the jobs that need doing around the house or chores and errands that need to be attended to. Doing nothing these days is a conscious choice and without it, I doubt that I would ever sit still. That conscious choice also comes with a pretty big mental stick which at times I know I can beat myself with for not doing “enough”. When I recently had Covid, forcing myself to slow down and recover properly wasn’t easy. It felt at times like I was being lazy, even though I would say in hindsight taking that time was most definitely the right thing to do.
So I suppose having said that I’d better stop writing this and go an do something that would be considered productive. The lawn needs cutting and there are still all sorts of boxes that we haven’t yet unpacked after our move. So what am I waiting for?
Thanks for reading my Fifty from Fifty Newsletter, this isn’t one of the regular numbered posts, and all will become clear momentarily. A regular post should be out tomorrow.
We are clattering our way towards post no 50 and if you remember back to the welcome email I said that this would be a limited run. 50ish posts reminiscing on 50 years of my life. I still intend that to be the case but I have had some push back on stopping at post number 50. I also however feel a contract with you who read my ramblings so would appreciate your views.
I think there are five basic options:
Stop as advertised. Email addresses deleted, posts will remain as an archive.
Keep going as I am. Roughly a post a week along the same lines. I realise that you may be signed up thinking this was going to end, so there’s always the unsubscribe button or let me know and I’ll remove you from the list.
Start another separate newsletter. This is likely to be on the new garden and getting it into shape, growing stuff and cooking the produce. This would require a new sign-up, I wouldn’t just port your email details across.
I also have a blog. I’ve been writing much less there this year because of this newsletter, but could switch my attention back there. You can subscribe by email, but the content is more varied and would likely include content from idea 3, if I don’t do that separately. Again I wouldn’t port your email details over.
Keep going as is but look forward at the next fifty years and things that might happen (this was something of suggested when I mentioned this to him – Thanks Mason!)
There are of course probably other options that I haven’t considered so if you have a bright idea that you’d like to share, do leave me a comment.
As I said I’d like to know what you think, so if you have a favourite from the above please vote in the poll below. Realistically I think I only have the time to do one of them, as much as I would like to do them all, so ultimately the final decision rests with me. I would also consider the paid tier, although again, not sure how that would work in practice, but that would only be after the 50 posts. I do not intend to make any change along those lines with the current format.
So let me know your thoughts below or via the comments.
Hello there, we’re into the home stretch now. Just 10 more posts after this one, and then what? I’ve been thinking about that, if you’ve been here from the start you’ll know that this is a limited run newsletter. Just 50ish posts to celebrate 50 years of life. I’ve enjoyed it and would like to continue in some way, but my agreement with you dear subscriber was to not use your email past the end of the limited run.
I’ve been toying with some ideas and will send out a separate (non-numbered) post in the next few weeks to see what you think about what happens next, but in the meantime back to your scheduled programming.
I wonder sometimes if I’ve always taken the path of least resistance, even when that might not have been the easiest path but because it was what was expected of me? For example when we were clearing out our loft to move I came across a picture of my university class. I guess there was about a hundred or so of us and I remember it being taken and sitting with a couple of my friends at the end of one row.
It was always expected that I would go to university. My grades were okay and I think I just went along with the flow at the time, taking the path of least resistance. It wasn’t as it turned out the easiest time of my life but I graduated with my degree, that is still kind of relevant to what I do today. I was one of the lucky ones in that back then fees were paid by the state and I even got a small living grant. Now I would have to pay the whole lot and saddle myself with debt for who knows how many years. I’m not sure I would make the same choices now that I did then. Although maybe I would because it would have been the easiest thing to do.
I can think of other times when I’ve done whatever is easiest, but not always. Choosing to take redundancy seven and a bit years ago wasn’t the easiest choice or the path of least resistance. In some ways I’d say it’s been quite an uphill struggle at times since then. Being self-employed, trying to make ends meet.
Our recent decision to move house is also not the path of least resistance, and it is proving to be hard work. I don’t yet know whether it is the right decision but it was right at the time is was made is about the most I can say about it for now.
So if I do take the path of least resistance I’d say I probably do so more often than not. Whether that’s because it’s the easiest decision or what is expected of me. The latter less so now. I don’t really care about others expectations (or at least very few), so if it is the easy decision I’ve made it’s been done for me or those nearest to me rather than anyone else.
What about you? The Path of Least Resistance or something else?
I’m pretty sure that each and everyone of us can point to something that our parents did that we identified that we would never do.
I’d further postulate that there are a few of those things that we have subsequently done, although not all of them.
There are times that I’ve caught myself doing something or saying something that I’ve thought that is exactly what Dad would have done or said. I think I’ve been more conscious of this since he passed away, and I know I’ve certainly thought about things at times and asked myself WWDHD (What Would Dad Have Done), and also WWMHD.
I think some of this is natural ageing and reaching a certain point where I am no longer young by any stretch of the imagination and thinking of parents as the perennial older person, the way a child considers all adults over a certain age as “old”. I also wonder genetically what I might inherit from which parent in terms of latter day health. Certainly I’ll take my Mum’s eyesight and my Dad’s teeth, but to a certain degree some of this is already hardwired into my DNA.
Some is also learned by doing, because one parent or the other did something with you that means you’ve continued to do it. Certainly some hobbies are like this.
Of course not everyone is as lucky as I’ve been in having both parents around for all of my childhood and the majority of my life in total. It makes me wonder whether other adults leave the same imprint. Someone who’s brought up my a step parent or another member of their family? What about those who grow up in a care situation. Is there a defining period or length of time that’s required for this to happen?
Is the opposite also true are there things that no matter how hard you try you just can’t replicate the way a parent or similar did something. I think a lot of us would be able to point to practical things like cooking or handicrafts where we might be able to say that we’re just not as good as soandso. There’s also the contrary point of being very good at something and having no idea where we “inherited” it from, although in some cases this might be because someone spotted a talent early enough that they were able to encourage and nurture it even though they didn’t necessarily have any direct input. In this case I’m perhaps thinking of sports or acting.
Ultimately if I look back I’d have to say that I’m most like my Dad. There are facial similarities and certainly in terms of some of my mannerisms and traits, I can see we are a little alike. There are things that I can do that he could never master and vice-versa, but I think we’d both have a good try at most things. Sadly he’s not around for us to have some kind of head-to-head just to prove my point but I think if he were we’d have some pretty good complimentary skills too.
Last week I hinted at how I once lost a penknife at Girl Guide Camp. To clarify at that time Brownies / Guides and Cubs / Scouts were single sex organisations for the kids, the “rules” are a little different now I believe but I’m not sure of the exact parameters. Anyway back then (mid-’70s) the former was definitely the case.
I was probably around 3, so this is really stretching the old memories a bit, but my Mum was a Guide Leader. For me this mostly meant that one evening a week she would go off for a couple of hours and I’d spend time with my Dad before going to bed.
Once a year however there was a Guide camp holiday. Tents, outdoor cooking the whole kit and caboodle. I’m not sure of the circumstances but I suspect it was for a lack of babysitting options at the time that I went along too. Or at least during the day, while my Dad was working, I don’t have any memories of sleeping in tents like the rest of the Guides were, so I suspect that my Dad came and got me after work and took me home. Although this was camping it wasn’t very far away from the village where we lived.
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I remember mucking in with the Guides, or at least about as well as a 3 year old can. There were activities, and simple meals cooked outside and washing up with water boiled on the campfire. I doubt very much I was doing anything strenuous.
There was also another boy there, one of the other leader’s sons, I suspect looking back probably in a similar situation. Although a few years older than me, we used to get on well enough to play together when we weren’t doing Girl Guide things.
As a present before we went I’d been given my first penknife, a small affair that I talked about last week. Not really a knife, more of a blunt letter opener, but when you’re 3…
Anyway, I had this on a lanyard around my neck and tucked inside my t-shirt most of the time. I was very proud of it – I distinctly remember that – and how I came to loose it.
When I was playing with the other boy, he for some reason untied the lanyard behind my neck. I tried to grab the knife through my shirt but my chubby kid fingers obviously missed it before it slid off of the lanyard into the long grass. Despite trying to find it, retracing our steps and going back and forth over the area where we were, we never found it. I remember being very upset at it’s loss. A present from my Dad and I’d lost it in less than a couple of days.
I suspect he wasn’t too surprised that it had gone missing and a week or so later he took me to the village hardware store to buy a replacement. I remember they were marketed on a bit piece of cardboard with little elastic loops holding the different knives onto the card. I chose the exact replacement for the one that I had lost. As you know I still have that second knife to this day, and have a certain sentimental attachment to it.
As you probably know in a few weeks time we’re moving house. At the moment we’re in full on packing mode: bubble wrap and cardboard boxes are my jam. By god we have so much stuff. Probably too much stuff and I can see some seriously rationalising that stuff as we move.
It’s got me thinking of the number of times that I’ve moved house before and the different houses / flats that I’ve lived in. Unlike my partner who was an army kid and moved house regularly as her father was posted to different places around the world, I think I’ve moved a total of five times and the house we’re living in currently is the longest I’ve lived in any one property.
As mentioned you tend to accumulate “stuff” over the years. Some of it has purpose, some not and some is sentimental stuff. If you said I had more sentimental stuff than most people you probably wouldn’t be wrong (I am writing this newsletter after all, where there is a heavy sentimental piece). But some of my sentimental stuff also has purpose. For example tools that I’ve kept that once belonged to a favourite relative.
As I’ve been packing boxes I’ve come across all manner of different things that I’ve kept for sentimental reasons. Some I’ve certainly had for a very long time, including what was the ceramic door sign above that was on my bedroom door throughout my childhood.
I also came across several old penknives.
Only three of these are mine. The top one belonged to my Grandfather and I was given it when my Grandmother passed away a few years ago. It had been stored in her desk (which I also have) and when I took it out I cut my finger on it. It probably hasn’t been used since the mid-1970’s but it is wickedly sharp. The next two are ones I had as a kid, the white sided one is my very first penknife (or rather my second as it is identical to my first which was lost at Girl Guide camp – which is a story for another time). The bronze sided one belonged to my Dad and was on his keyring for many years until the loop broke. The leatherman was on my belt nearly everyday at work through my twenties and into my thirties. I probably used it everyday. I no longer carry it on my belt but it still gets the occasional use.
I find it interesting that these things are all analogue things, there’s not a digital knick-knack amongst them. Even things like the cameras that I’ve kept, they’re all film cameras, the only digital ones are relatively modern, and ones that I’ve purchase myself. It might be a cliché to say it but it feels like the analogue stuff is timeless. How is it that a knife that hadn’t been used in nearly forty years can retain an edge like it has, I know that it’s because my Grandfather would have taken great care of it and kept it honed and it hasn’t seen use since the last time he put it away, but it feels like the years should have dulled it like the sides of the blade has lost its shine. The business end is still game.
These are all things that I am going to keep, they have a function, even though they probably won’t get much use and I fully accept that I am keeping them for sentimental reasons. The more disposable items are consumer driven trivialities that unless they serve a function will be going to a charity shop or recycling point.
We don’t intend to move again after this time, except perhaps to the crematorium in what I hope will be many more years. I suspect we’ll still have too much stuff.
Electronic Scrapbook 