Date: Friday 25th October 2020
Location: Huddersfield
Specifically: Staring at five envelopes, four white and one buff, while scoffing a bald egg with two white slices of toast and one buff coloured cup of tea. Which represented something of a mixed start to the day.
First letter (buff), ripped it open and began to read..... yada yada yada crap crap crap waffle waffle waffle ....... “as a gesture of goodwill we will accept your laughable excuse for dodging a parking fine of £140 even though we know you’re lying through your teeth but don’t let it happen again or you will be sentenced to 10 years of cleaning out the latrines with a toothbrush ...... blah blah blah - well something of that nature anyway.
Second/third/fourth & fifth letters (White), Hmm something to do with my replacement bank card perhaps? They alway need a stack of envelopes to send them in. In no particular order...
One to inform you that your request for a replacement card has been received (usually arrives the day after the bank card) and another one a few days later telling you that if you were stupid enough to think that this letter contained your new bank card and PIN number then you are very much mistaken. This letter is only to inform you that we are in the process of thinking about sending you new bank card but haven't actually decided yet. But your receiving this will get you going and think you actually have access to some cash.
A white packet containing another envelope made of lead which contains another envelope containing another envelope which holds the bank card. There are also instructions about how to use it - just in case you can't remember how to shove a card in a slot machine. You will probably also find more instructions about what to do should you be unfortunate enough lose your card (What they should do is send instructions for what to do if you can't find your card under the mountain of paper they send you!)
The PIN number contained in another lead lined envelope which is only accessible with an oxy-acetylene torch, printed on one of those dumb sheets 100x thinner than a fag paper where your number is so faint even the local forensic science laboratory can't read it.
Envelope number four. No surprises here - you know what this letter contains - disappointment. It looks pretty average and is sealed only with a one inch strip of sellotape from the Poundshop. This letter falls under the heading of 'work expansion to fill briefcases' and is a useless time-wasting exercise informing you that your request for a new card has been confirmed and you should get your new card shortly. It's only purpose is to make you think 'Ooh my new bank card has arrived now the wife and kids won't starve!"
....................................... "ah fuck"
"Maureen - nip out and fill a couple of saucepans with grass and dandelions again would you?
LIFE'S A GAS
One job I had not been looking forward to was exchanging the gas cylinders when they became empty. Truth be told they made me nervous, - the amount of gas contained in them would surely kill anyone if an accident should happen which caused them to explode - especially in my case where the damned things were so heavy that I had to nurse the things to squeeze them into the gas compartment. But both were ready for replacement and, unless I wanted to live on cold food and shower in cold water then I had best get on with it.
I found a stockist a couple of miles away from Stuart & Bronwyn's house - a petrol station. I find the place easily enough. That was the easy part. I suppose I had expected that if I looked helpless and said it my first time at chngign the cylinders that he woudl expalin how it's done or better still connect them himslefas part of the service. No such luck the guy brings me the replacement cylinders, takes my payment then disappears back inside the garage with a cheery wave. I reciprocate "Thanks for all your help and may you shortly be overcome by toxic fumes".
I lift the first cylinder. It goes in the compartment alright but it seems to be hanging over the side. I check the casing. It's definitely the right size - 11Kg. I try again. this time it goes in. I then try to get the second cylinder in place. I turn it this way and that, take it out, put it back. Useless. By now it's starting to rain and my hands are freezing. Lightbulb moment! I remove the first cylinder and shift it to the right which allows me to squeeze the other canister in - after a bit more pushing and shoving. Next job is to connect the cylinder to the gas pipe the part I was looking forward to even less than placing the cylinders. Bloody impossible! The pipe is designed to connect in the reverse to usual screw threads - connection is by turning the valve anti-clockwise and disconnecting is turning the valve clockwise. Perhaps I need an adaptor of some sort - there were certainly a few bits and pieces in the compartment. It wasn't necessary as it turned out. After a few more twists and turns (I should have done all this to music!) I got them connected and turned on the gas. I tried to shut the safety door and found it impossible. It has to be me, something I'm doing wrong. but nothign I did made any difference. I got the door shut - just but I'm not 100% comfortable.
CHEATING
Well if I feel I’ve been cheating readers these past few days re the level, or absence thereof, of steampunk and mojo content today isn’t going to impress anyone. I could leave it I suppose but I figure, what the hell? A moho is just another type of home and like any other home it comes with domestic difficulties.
So today Alex asked me to cat sit!!!! Puss cat - or Nigel - is vastly improved after his ordeal though he does still look a little blue (Makes you wonder what would happen if he looked yellow— maybe he would just get called “puss”) Despite that he’s raring to go out. Alex‘s concern is that he doesn’t want him left on his own for the 12 hours he’s going to be at work.
So he makes preparations - leaves food and water at the ready, kitty treats, stimulating toys and, cat litter in the shape of a pile of gravel on the carpet. Yes!! You guessed it THAT cat litter! the ‘lightweight’ cat litter I bought from Aldi the other day. Well that is pure poetic justice as far as I’m concerned - you make me carry you up a steep FUCKING hill! I throw you to the ground and watch while the cat shits on your face and bury’s it in your head!!!
Rest of the time - tinkery about sort of day. Spent customising a few steampunk bits and pieces in readiness for the Sheffield City Hall Halloween gig, booking trade fairs for 2020 and generally making myself useful.
At 9.30 p.m the world turned to shit...
It was great to see a message from Jasmine - for the tiniest fraction of a second - until I saw the words that turned me to stone - ”your new post, is it for everyone to see? Only it mentions my friend and her husband - it’s a bit more information than I’m comfortable with”. In other words I had included information that should not have been there and personal information at that.
When I’m involved in any kind of creative writing I often just type notes which I then use as the basis of my blog post (in this case). When I’m ready to publish I delete the notes I haven’t used. Except this time - I didn’t. Result? The information had been seen by others.
Seeing this now in the cold light of day - it doesn’t seem like the end of the world, easily rectifiable by deletion and a sincere apology but I had done this to someone I haven’t known very long and who I like and care about very much.
Its almost impossible to say what happened in the next few minutes - all I wanted to do was get this damned post taken down before it could be seen by anyone else. To make matters worse, the notes also contained a number of things I had wanted to discuss with Jasmine - very private things that I most certainly did not want any one else knowing about. Some of it was typed in a few fleeting moments of frustration, thoughts that would never have seen the light of day but which I feared would now, take on a whole new level of significance now that she had seen the words in print,
Stephanie seemed OK once she knew the post had been deleted and that I promised to redo it and send the changes to her for approval. But in that moment I felt my world had ended. It sounds melodramatic and crazy now but I felt as if I could never face Jasmine again. I wanted to tear down my blog website and the Facebook page with it, I wanted to sever my involvement in steampunk; the crafting, the clothing and the socialising and I wanted to disappear to the most distant and desolate place on Gods earth and hide away from the world forever.
Bloody hell sounds ludicrous a few weeks later. Must have been off my tits on Anderson’s ReIish or something.
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