I was in the pub with my team earlier in the week to celebrate the departure of one of our younger colleagues. She’s off to Central America and she might come back but not, sadly, for ages. Sadly for us, obviously; she’s delighted. Anyway talk turned to living abroad and I was talking about my own experience and another of the younger colleagues said, “You’ve had a great life, Anne!”. Pause, “Not that it’s over yet or anything.” Indeed.
21 Today – The Years of Unc Begin*
It’s been quite a while since this post. It seems like a very long time ago and, in that weird way that time telescopes as you get older, not that long ago at all.
Youngest child had a party at home last night and it was still in full swing when we got home from the cinema but this morning when we got up, it was all cleaned up. I was truly impressed (but I felt a little guilty, surely he knew that he could clean up in the morning, has my insistence on picking up after oneself been just a tiny bit overdeveloped?).
They firmly but politely refused to have a party together (which seemed ideal to me). Instead of celebrating with his brother last night, middle child is having a joint party with a friend at his place next weekend. They are twins with distinct social circles.
We went out for lunch today to celebrate and had tea and cake at home afterwards. Relatives have dutifully come up with presents and good wishes. Mr. Waffle did one of his legendary treasure hunts for them.
All is right with the world.
*At lunch they told us that unc is slang for old and basically uncool but really only used on young people, we are so unc we don’t even know it; we’re beyond unc. It’s not very recent slang apparently but it’s new to me and perhaps to you also. Just wanted you to be as with it as me.
Have Nothing in your House that you do not Know to be Useful, or Believe to be Beautiful*
I have been in lampshade hell recently (I will spare you the details, I am merciful). The upshot of it is that I have a newly acquired (not particularly cheap) 30cm diameter barrel lampshade with a William Morris print on it and no particular location for it. I said hopefully to Herself “Do you think you would like a William Morris lampshade in your newly decorated room at home?” “I would not,” said she, “William Morris is the ‘live, laugh, love’ of Victorian decor.” Sharper than a serpent’s tooth and all that for as the words left her mouth, I knew she was right.
*My mother was particularly fond of this William Morris quote and it seems apt here somehow.
My Latest Obsession
When we were in Sweden (full account to follow, I know, you can’t wait) one day at lunch time herself said that she had been working hard at reducing her time on the phone and had got it down to an average of 25 minutes a day which she felt was the minimum needed to function – messages, calls, banking etc. Mr. Waffle then looked at his screen time on his phone. An average of an hour a day. I looked at mine. Three and a half hours a day. I don’t think I have a spare minute in the day so how am I spending three and a half hours on my phone?
I immediately started to try to reduce my time. I am nothing if not competitive. I’ve given up doing sudoku on my phone and am doing it on paper. This has a treble advantage of reducing my screen time; when I do it at night, I just get tired and go to bed whereas I somehow never felt tired on my phone; and finally giving some relief to my aged arthritic fingers. The other thing I have done is turn my phone to silent permanently. It’s much less distracting that way and it turns out I do not need to see each of the many, many messages that come in on the “random ladies tennis” whatsapp group.
Still despite all my efforts although I’ve got it down to about an hour a day now I can’t seem to get it below that. Even at the end of the day when I feel I haven’t touched my phone there it is an hour a day. Herself just leaves it at home when she goes out. Maybe that is the move but I listen to my podcasts when I am out and about and I love them (podcasts don’t count as screen time – I mean the screen isn’t on – in case you thought that was where your vast screen time stats were coming from). I do seem to have a bit more time though and I am kicking myself that since I first got a smart phone (probably about 15 years ago) I have let so much of my life be mediated through it.
Any tips for reducing my use further?
Apple Jelly
Our three apple trees have had a productive year. Again. I am exhausted from my jelly making efforts and out of jars but still the apples come.
The Hedge Hating Peasantry
We had two men cutting back in our garden all day yesterday. They did a bit of a radical job but it can grow back over the next 12 months. I regret my lilac which they cut within an inch of its life last year. It grew back but, understandably, didn’t produce any flowers. “Next year,” thought I to myself. Alas, I didn’t single it out for protection and it has, yet again, been scalped.
Youngest child, who daily grows more like my father (who gave us the title of this post – it was what he always said gloomily when hedge clipping was imminent), says that it is awful when the garden is shorn but without the intervention of these men, I honestly think we might be fully overwhelmed.
Here’s the before.
And here’s the after. It actually doesn’t look that different in the photo but you will have to take my word for it that this is a radical change.
