Deliveries

In these recent days before Christmas, our hallway filled up with cardboard boxes. They were brought to our door by an array of delivery drivers. Most of the parcels had been ordered by our son Ian and we had no idea what was inside them. A particularly large box was addressed to our daughter.

When she finally opened it, we discovered a mattress inside. But nobody here had ordered a mattress. It arrived via Amazon Prime. Clearly a mistake had occurred.

We attempted to let Amazon know and we tried to contact the intended recipient - a Mr D. Spencer who lives in the village of Killamarsh east of Sheffield. It's about ten miles away from our house. Yes we really did try but to no avail.

But the bottom line was that we didn't want that massive box in our hallway. Consequently, today I transported the box to St Vincent's Charity Warehouse on Queens Road. This worthy charity helps needy people  to furnish their homes. The brand new mattress was gratefully received.

Nowadays, there seem to be many issues with deliveries and delivery companies. Maybe it was here in Blogland but I heard of someone who had received a Yamaha electric organ in error. When they pursued the matter, they were told to just keep the organ. It would have been too much trouble for the carrier to correct the matter.

You hear of dishonest delivery drivers and of parcels being stolen from doorsteps. Shopping may have changed forever but not always for the good. It would help if all delivery companies had well-staffed customer service facilities to ease communication. Instead, the reality is that you are more likely to wait for a bot in a telephone queue as a recorded message fibs, "Your call is important to us".

I hope that a weary and deserving someone is soon able to lie down upon that mysterious mattress and then sail through sleep's archway to The Land of Nod. They will have no inkling of  knowledge about the mattress's prior journey.

Closer

I prepared a Sunday roast feast today. We had to extend out Victorian pine table by adding an old drop leaf table from the greenhouse. It worked out fine. Shirley put linen tablecloths over the whole shebang.

All the people I love the most were in attendance: Shirley, Frances, Stew, Phoebe, Margot, Ian, Sarah and Zachary.

The menu included roasted loin of pork, vegan nut roast, apple sauce, sage and onion stuffing, tender stem broccoli, roasted carrots and parsnips, golden Yorkshire puddings, roasted potatoes and two types of homemade gravy. This was followed by a homemade apple crumble using the last of the usable apples from our garden with vanilla custard or vegan ice cream. And of course there was water and fine wine to drink.

I got to sit next to Margot who remains such a lovable child. She can mimic "mamama" and "dadada" now and when she stands without assistance for twenty seconds or more she is very proud of herself - clapping and laughing when she finally drops to the floor.

Zach is a good eater. I woke to hear him kind of singing and chortling to himself this morning as he lay in the cot where Margot sometimes naps. Zach is staggering around with some confidence now and he has a happy disposition even though he suffers from a touch of eczema. This is being managed really well by Sarah who remains a diligent, loving mother. I hope it is something that he grows out of. His skin is certainly sensitive.

Phoebe was dressed in the outfit of a Santa assistant and looked lovely this afternoon. She went to see the "Disney on Ice" show at Sheffield Arena with her mama this weekend and thoroughly enjoyed the experience even though she is not fond of big crowds and loud noises. She also travelled on the Sheffield Supertram for the first time.

Christmas feels close now. Yet another one - arousing memories of past Christmases. Loved ones who have gone and the happiness we shared. It's a time for nostalgia, taking stock and noting the relentless march of time.

Tonight Bert's son Philip called round with a present for me. It was the first time he had been to our house. I invited him in for a tot of Irish whiskey. He does a great job of caring for both of his aging parents who live in two different houses two miles apart. Without Philip's assistance 88 year old Bert could not live at home. I have reminded the cantankerous old bugger about this several times.

Finally this weekend, I got round to sending some of my e-cards out. This has become an annual habit for me and given the increased cost of posting physical cards in this kingdom, I can see me posting even more self-designed e-cards in future years. See my 2024 card at the top.

Jollity

 

Well, for your amusement, I thought that I would just put up some Christmas memes or cartoons this evening - following the example of Bruce at Oddball Observations. I have looked at a hundred or more with the kind assistance of Google but mostly they were very unfunny. These were two of the best I found. At least they raised chortles:-

But not brilliant were they and so instead I have resorted to bloglifting* with these two, copied directly from Bruce's blog:- 

*bloglifting is the online equivalent of shoplifting. I sincerely hope that Bruce has imbibed enough Christmas spirit to  resist the temptation to sue me.

Women

Gisèle Pelicot's face is now famous around the world. Bravely, she stood up against misogyny and against a socio-legal system that has often allowed rapists to get away, without facing the music for their cruel and sinful actions. This time, they could not blurt out the traditional excuses for there was video footage of their disgusting assaults upon a drugged and sleeping woman. Madame Pelicot's dignity through the tortuous trial and in the brash spotlight of media interest has been remarkable. She could have remained hidden from view, anonymous but as she said - why should she be the one to cower in secrecy? She was a victim not a perpetrator so she held her head up high.

Below, news journalist Mishal Husain left the BBC this week after twenty six years service. To me she was a remarkable interviewer - always calm and fluent, pursuing her interviewees in a polite but purposeful manner. She oozed intelligence and clear-headedness and refused to be intimidated. With the exception of Justin Webb, no other presenter on the Radio 4 "Today"  programme could compare with her.  As she departed on Tuesday of this week she said smilingly that she had been granted a farewell song request and the song she had chosen was "Daydream Believer" by The Monkees. It seemed such a sweet and humble choice.

Finally, not a woman but a little girl who is destined to become a woman in the fullness of time. It's our little Phoebe - less than a month short of her fourth birthday. We took her to Millhouses Park on Thursday afternoon and as she negotiated the climbing structure, I noticed  a possible picture through  the curved opening on the red wall at the end. Winter sunlight was falling nicely upon it. I didn't have my camera with me so I asked Shirley to snap a picture with her smartphone and here is the result...

I don't know how Phoebe's adult life will work out but of course I hope that it is a happy one in which, as a woman,  she fulfils some of her dreams. I want her to feel proud of who she is. Along the way, I hope she meets kind, respectful men who view women as their equals and do not seek to underestimate or abuse them. In this regard, the world still has a long way to go.

Tristan

St Joseph's Catholic Church, Tristan da Cunha

For bloggers and blog visitors who will be travelling to Tristan da Cunha in time for The Laughing Horse Blogging Awards evening, I have been doing some further research. With special permission granted, the ceremony will now be held in St Joseph's Catholic Church.

There are only 250 permanent residents on the island and all are of European descent. They tend to lead simple, communal lives in which fishing, vegetable growing and raising cattle all figure significantly. Tristan da Cunha was never settled by humans before the European era.

There is only one settlement - located on the northern plain which has rich volcanic soils. It is called Edinburgh of the Seven Seas.

Some video footage:-

I am sure you will agree that Tristan da Cunha is very likely the most unique awards venue ever selected by the Laughing Horse team. Those of you who make the effort to get there will be forging unforgettable memories. Those who discard the opportunity will be creating bundles of lifelong regrets...

Edinburgh of the Seven Seas

#2

A second foray into our secret cupboard and another random photo wallet extracted. This time I will scan four selected photos and write about them. All were snapped and printed before I acquired my very first digital camera which was twenty years ago so these prints are now very much historical. 

Long ago I wrote on the "Quality Prints" wallet "Britanny June 91 & 92 + Loire and Normandy 87" so I am expecting a bit of a mixture when I dip inside

Above - pictures taken in the north of France but because I never wrote on the back of my prints I cannot tell you in which little town I spotted the old black Citroen car. And maybe it was the same day but there's our Ian at the age of eight or nine with an interesting lace curtain behind him. It depicts two children walking in rain. I guess I will have said to him - "Just sit down there son!" before clicking the camera button.

Below, that's me - half a lifetime ago with my little darling daughter - Frances Emily. We were sitting by rocks on the north coast of Brittany. She would have been three in that photo - a few months younger than her own daughter - Phoebe Harriet is right now. Frances was such a sweet child blessed with natural intelligence and kindness - foreshadowing the woman she would become.

We had four French holidays that involved driving to campsites where tents were already set up and fully equipped with camp beds, fridges, cooking stoves, pans and cutlery etc.. Below, I believe that "Sunsites" tent was on the coast of Britanny and there's Shirley, Ian and Frances under the parasol. Ian is wearing the Hull City shirt I bought him. They were great family holidays but harder to remember with each passing year. No matter how we try, we cannot hang on to the past. Before you know it, it will become just a bunch of old pictures in a photo wallet, hidden in a cupboard .

Navels

A lot of you entered the belly button competition that I launched a few weeks back. Thank you for your participation. Belly buttons or navels are customarily overlooked as if they were of little consequence but every belly button is a physical reminder of our pre-birth connections with our mothers. It is of course the site where the knot is tied after separation.

Belly buttons can be beautiful or ugly. In some cultures - notably Turkey - belly dancing focuses all eyes upon the centre of the belly - the navel.

From the hundreds of images received at Yorkshire Pudding HQ, the expert belly button judges have picked the following seven for adulation - in reverse order...

7. "Derek" - the squinting navel of John Gray, Wales...

6. "Paddy" - the happy navel of Dave Northsider, County Cork, Ireland...

5. "Tibby" - the tattooed navel of Bruce Taylor, Arizona, USA...

4.  "Humpty" - the bulging belly button of a certain Canadian blogger who understandably wishes to remain anonymous...

3. "Juanita" - the elegant talking navel of Ms Mary Moon in northern Florida...

2. "Chardonnay" - the bejewelled navel of  JayCee Manx on The Isle of Man...

1. "Clementine" - the perfect belly button of Ellen D - retired, grandmother and supportive blog visitor residing in Illinois USA...

Ellen wins a year's pass to "Belly Up" - the top professional belly button cleaning salon in Springfield, Illinois where the world famous Simpson family dwell. Indeed, Homer is a "Belly Up" client.

In time for Christmas, the other six commended entrants will receive a complimentary personal belly button cleaner so that they can keep their navels in tip-top condition at home. (Not for use at the Christmas dinner table)

Finally:-

Great Britain's most famous navel leader (1758 - 1805).He 

was killed during a great navel conflict with French and 

Spanish ships at The Battle of Trafalgar.