SNOW

The following was sent to me by email in 2014 but now that the snow is on the ground I thought it an appropriate time to re-post it. Enjoy!

December 8:  6:00 PM.  It started to snow.  The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven.  It looked like a Grandma Moses Print.  So romantic we felt like newlyweds again.  I love snow!

December 9:  We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape.  What a fantastic sight!  Can there be a more lovely place in the Whole World?  Moving here was the best idea I've ever had.  Shovelled for the first time in years, felt like a boy again.  I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplough came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again.  What a perfect life.

December 12:  The sun has melted all our lovely snow.  Such a disappointment.  My neighbour tells me not to worry, we'll definitely have a white Christmas.  No snow on Christmas would be awful!  Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible.  Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbour.

December 14:  Snow, lovely snow!  8" last night.  The temperature dropped to -20.  The cold makes everything sparkle so.  The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shovelling the driveway and sidewalks.  This is the life! The snow plough came back this afternoon and buried everything again.  I didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shovelling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way.  I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15:  20 inches forecast.  Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and two extra shovels.  Stocked the Freezer.  The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out.  I Think that's silly.  We aren't in Alaska, after all.

December 16:  Ice storm this morning.  Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt.  Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.

December 17:  Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for five hours.  I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her.  God I hate it when she's right.  I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20:  Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of the damn stuff last night.  More shovelling.  Took all day. Goddamn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbour kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey.  I think they're lying.  Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower, and they're out.  Might have
another shipment in March.  I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me.  I think he's lying.

December 22:  Bob was right about a white Christmas, because 13 more inches of the white shit fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt 'til August.  Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel, and then I had to piss. By the time I got undressed, pissed and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel!  Tried to hire Bob, who has a plow on his truck, for the rest of the winter; but he says he's too busy.  I think the asshole is lying.

December 23:  Only 2" of snow today, and it warmed up to "0".  The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning.  What, is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago?  She says she did, but I think she's lying.

December 24:  6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, I broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack.  If I ever catch the son-of-a-bitch who drives that snow plough, I'll drag him through the snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel.  I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shovelling and then he comes down the street at a 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over everywhere I've just been!  Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was too busy watching for the Goddamn snowplow.

December 25:  Merry F!=3D@x@!x!x1 Christmas.  20 more inches of the !=3D@x@!x!x1 slop tonight.  Snowed in.  The idea of shovelling makes my blood boil.  God, I hate the snow! Then the snowplough driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel.  The wife says I have a bad attitude.  I think she's a fricking idiot.  If I have to watch "It's a
Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave.

December 26:  Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here?  It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27:
Temperature dropped to -30, and the pipes froze.  Plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him; he only charged me $1,400 to replace all my pipes.

December 28:  Warmed up to above -50.  Still snowed in.  The BITCH is driving me crazy!!!!!

December 29:  10 more inches.  Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in.  That's the silliest thing I ever heard.  How dumb does he think I am?

December 30:  Roof caved in.  I beat up the snowplough driver.  He is now suing me for a million dollars; not only for the beating I gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass.  The wife went home to her mother.  9" predicted.

December 31:  I set fire to what's left of the house.  No more shovelling. 

January 8:  Feel so good.  I just love those little white pills they keep giving me.  Wondering ... why am I tied to this bed?

DISPOSAL OF BOOKS... yes or no?

BOOKS FOR CHARITY

The charity I choose to support is St Giles Hospice where my Joe received such excellent care and attention. I am sure he would be happy that some of his precious books were used to raise much needed funds for St Giles.

Some of Joe’s books are/were brilliant. Not for him the romances or murder mysteries, his preference was for history, geography, trains or sport. Most of the bigger and more interesting books were delivered to the local branch of St Giles, some to be sold in the shop, others to be auctioned on line.

Here’s a list of what’s left: those that the charity wouldn’t want and those I am reluctant to destroy but know not what to do other than leave them on the shelf.

Some are huge and weighty volumes, like the Roger Penrose book entitled The Road to Reality. Along with two others I can hardly lift it. I don’t think Joe ever actually read it – he did like to possess books though, read or unread.

Here’s a few more books I can’t decide what to do with:

Handbooks on Accountancy

Practical Auditing

The Rights and Duties of Liquidators, Trustees and Receivers (first published in 1886, this copy dated 1960)

Manual of Auditing

Executorship Law and Accounts

Rome, Then and Now

History of 20^th Century in 100 Maps

Everest Adventure

Elements of English Law

How to do Anything on a Computer (if he read this it didn’t help!)

And finally, a paperback entitled Stalin’s Ghost by Martin Cruz Smith

What would you do with these old books? Leave them where they are or chuck them out as waste paper? Some day they must be disposed of but I guess I have a while yet.

Hmm! Just had a thought, why don’t I ask Luke, the odd job boy, to carry the books to the charity shop? I suppose it’s worth a try – he can only say No!

PARCEL DELIVERY

Recently I had occasion to buy something on-line, branching away from Amazon who I trust to get things right. I had taken a fancy to a sporty top that was designed for hikers and the like, one that was made from a special extra-warming material without any added weight. I am always nervous about shopping on line, that’s why I stick with Amazon. However, I was tempted by a good saving if I bought it within a certain time. I fell for the offer.

There were no problems with the purchase and the company was most helpful. Emails were exchanged and more messages were received about delivery. Would I be home, if not where would I like the parcel left?

Unfortunately, the time of delivery was a time when I would be out so I asked for the parcel to be left in the porch and agreed full responsibility. What happened next was new to me and I must say I was impressed. The parcel was left where I said at the exact time (apparently) but to cover themselves a photograph was taken of the parcel in the porch and enclosed in an email stating that the goods had been delivered at a specific time. The driver/deliverer was careful to tuck the parcel under the shelf of tiles before taking a picture so it wasn't easily seen from the road. How’s that for efficiency? 

_________________________________________________

Your parcel is waiting for you at home, (left in Front Porch) at 11:38 on Thu 24 Nov 2016

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HAPPY NEW YEAR

Wishing all my friends a Happy New Year

and

thank you for your company.

Here's hoping 2017 proves to be a good year for all of us

Let me tell you a story that I wrote a few years ago

It was the afternoon of New Year's Day. Gemma and Peter Swift were writing in their respective five-year diaries, given by Gemma's mother for Christmas. Both diaries were lockable and leather-bound: pink for Gemma, plain black for Peter, both with a silver key.

Last night's party was a great success, scribed Peter.

           

I've never been to such a boring do, noted Gemma.

           

Peter capped his pen and propelled himself from the table. 'Fancy a beer, Gem?'

           

'Don't scrape your chair,' snapped Gemma. 'You'll damage the carpet.'

           

'Was that a yes or a no,' enquired a grinning Peter, who wondered if she was still mad because the coal tit had scattered seeds on her precious new patio.

           

'It was a no. Thanks.' Gemma carried on writing.

           

'Brandy?'

           

'No, thanks.'

           

Peter fetched a can of lager from the fridge and returned to the dining room, sat directly opposite his wife. 'Writing about the party?' he asked, drawing his diary towards him.

           

'Not in detail.'

           

Peter picked up his pen. 'Me neither,' he said, beginning to write. Martin Wedgwood. What an opportunity. Stroke of luck meeting him in a casual setting. Made my approach less obvious. And what a wife. The black mini-skirt was a sensation.

           

STRUMPET, recorded Gemma in bold script, then added, but at least she wasn't boring like most of the females. She adjusted her reading glasses and tugged a strand of straight, mousy hair, remembering the time she'd spent in the early hours squinting in the mirror and brushing her hair into some kind of captivating style. But it was too straight and too fine to do anything with. The men were tedious too. All workaholics from the way they talked, and so uninteresting. She eyed her husband, who was sucking the end of his pen, staring into space. Searching for inspiration, she guessed, but he wouldn't have found any at last night's party.

           

Peter was thoughtful, wondering if any business would be forthcoming from the men he’d mingled with. The managing director of the knitwear company, for example, and the one from the printing firm who said he was disenchanted with his existing accountants. But his mind kept reverting to Martin Wedgwood who had taken his card and promised further talks. Now if that came to something, his managing partner would be delighted. Yes, it was a first-rate party.

Imperceptibly, Gemma shook her head. If only Peter hadn't raved so much about his work. There was nothing enthralling about the accountancy profession yet he went on and on to some guy in a flash tuxedo who could only shut him up by asking for his card. Julie was interested, of course. But she was interested in all the men. You could see her brain ticking over deciding who to lure … and when.

           

Boring, she wrote again, unable to think of a better adjective to describe the event. She supposed Peter would be recording his tête-à-tête with Julie, whom Gemma thought was the wife of someone important but couldn't remember who. It was surprising that her husband, whoever he was, didn't keep her under lock and key. It was most disconcerting the way she tossed her red hair and displayed long legs as if she was contending for Miss World. The mini-skirt barely covered her buttocks let alone her thighs. Gemma sighed and twisted round to extend her own legs, tilting her head to inspect them, and deciding they'd be shapelier if she lost a bit of weight.

Peter noticed Gemma's move and silently admired the focus of her scrutiny, recalling the way one greasy-looking party goer had gawked at her until he told him to lay off. Work or no work, he wasn't standing for that. Impulsively he pushed his diary to one side and leaned across the table to take Gemma's hand. He could smell the almond hand-cream she used, and the Shalimar behind her ears. 'It was a rare old party, eh, Gem?'

           

'Wonderful,' replied Gemma, not wanting to crush his admiration for the inebriated fools who posed as New Year revellers.

           

Peter released her hand and pushed his chair from the table. The lager can toppled and rolled backwards and forwards as he drew Gemma to her feet, he held her close and whispered, ‘Did I remember to wish you a Happy New Year?’

Gemma nodded, for once overlooking the likelihood of a ruined carpet.

‘And did I tell you there’s every chance of promotion if I land a major client after last night’s affair?’

Gemma shook her head.

‘And did I tell you it could mean a partnership if I continue to acquire new clients?’

Gemma gasped. ‘A partnership?’

Peter whirled her round. ‘Tremendous party, don’t you think?’

‘Marvellous, my darling. Simply marvelous.’