Storm Damage

A tel call to the house insurance about the roof . He starts by asking what the problem is and I tell him the slate has blown off ( storm damage ) and there is water leaking and the ceiling needs re painting and the window is all wet and flaking . ( So far so good ) . He then takes the policy number and asks how I pay my insurance contributions ( with difficulty , I think , smirking to myself , on top of all the other bills ) , then he asks ( and I feel my Grumpy Old Woman irritation start to stir) , reading off a form probably , and how did the damage occur ? I resist the temptation to tell him Ive just told him , but leave a gap in the coversation to indicate my slight disbelief , and say " the slate came off " . This will serve to remind him . " And how did the slate come off? " he asks and I leave another gap . " Storm damage " . Storm damage ? he repeats , sounding slightly incredulous . " And when did this storm damage occur ? In the last storm . And when exactly was that ? No idea . I say . Well when did the slate come off ? Dunno . Deep breath . I am polite again . He has after all to fill in a form .
Later , he informs me that a representative from x company will ring me before the close of business to arrange to send someone out .
Five minutes later the aforementioned company rings , telling me that another representative will ring within four days to arrange an appointment to come out . Everything is going to plan .

Synchronicity revisited

Synchronicity.
Maybe I just like the word but I googled it this morning , whilst trying to work out why my flame wars blog wouldn't post . Simple really . I wasn't logged in . Everything in life these days involves being logged in . And being logged in is not something I am , for much of the time . Much of life sees me drift by completely unlogged in to anything in particular , except cats of course . I see a cat anywhere and the world changes colour . First entry was a wikepedia analysis of synchronicity , but not far down the list was an organisation called synchronicity.com . Within minutes I was meditating along to a "sample pack " of hi tech something or other . A man's voice and some music . The pack was billed to last fourteen minutes. After six , and when the man went silent I found myself glancing out of the window and noticing the stillness out there . No cats in view , all being next door indulging in Desk Wars . No children walking past , it being just after eight and too early for the stream of morning school passers by . No rain . The quality of the light though was too good to miss and meditation or no meditation I had to take a couple of photos , from where I sat . It didn't disrupt the meditation of course . the strangest thing , when I held the camera , there was a wide band of purple light which didn't show at all in the potograph .
Next , five minutes later , I remembered I hadn't texted Debbie about our arrangements for tomorrow .... and there was the phone right on the chair arm . I caught myself texting before I knew I was doing it . Then Laura . I needed to let her know just how tricky things had been this morning . Before I knew it I was thinking of the meditation retreats I went on with Michaela at Throssel Hole Priory and the things that distracted you endlessly from meditation in the hall with the golden Buddha statue . The way your back ached . Your knees ached . That you weren't allowed to wear make up . That your back ached . That you were falling asleep on your feet . Your knees . Your back . Your neck . And the little mouse scooting across the floor in the dining room as you picked your way across the stone flags looking for the lavatory at dead of night .

I force myself to wait until the fourteen minutes are up and google Throssel Hole .Amazing place .
This is meditation after all . The mind wandering and being brought back . Throssel Hole Buddhist Abbey, Monastery and Retreat Centre in the Soto Zen Tra

test post

my previous post Flame Wars has refused to post .... lets see whats happening with this test one .

Flame Wars

Flame wars rage on the listserv which has over the years given me e mail debate and discussion on aspects of therapy . Until a week or so ago the list was struggling , after several successful years , to maintain itself . Intended initially as a discussion and help forum for those practising in a particular way , so that participants could post a problem or a situation where they were " stuck" and receive help from others more experienced or who could offer just a fresh pair of eyes , recently it has been fizzling somewhat . I blame the rain , though irrelevantly since the list involves people from all over the world . It can't be raining everywhere ?
A couple of weeks ago an ex -participant ( whom I think may have been banned at some stage in the past ) has re appeared , and stirred up considerable feeling . The usual polite , sensitive and careful postings have given way to what can only be described as flame wars .
I confess I open my In Box with more excitement than usual .
And am reminded of something I read in a Buddhist tract somewhere " is it my intention today to make war ? Or to make peace ? "

Synchronicity

Just the day after we place our first adsense advertising on the blog an article appears in The Times about blogging and money.Blogging for dosh - Times Online.
This reminds me that I really need to reread that book about synchronicity and nuclear physics which seemed to make such perfect sense at the time , though when I came to try to explain it to someone I got in a tangle and couldnt recall much beyond what I already believe about synchronicity . And now sitting here I can't recall the name of the book or even the authors name , though it is currently situated beside my bed and I step over it every night and morning . I need an article about How to stem the ageing process or Improving your memory which may be far more useful than making money through advertising .

Roofing Man arrived and looked and prodded a bit and will come back with a ladder early next week . Progress indeed .
SynchroDestiny the book was called ( I've just looked ) and the author Deepak Chopra . How could I forget though I'm now doubtful that it was about nuclear physics . What do I know about them ?

The book which is currently worth waking for at five am is Two Caravans by Marina Lewycka , who wrote the book about tractors in the Ukraine . Highly recommended .

Desk Wars

The continuous battle for supremacy in Desk Wars continues. My Laptop dept is of little interest to them . I write and have always written perched on a squashy armchair and though there are five seats in the room we all favor the same one ( me and the cats that is ). But Birmans are easy to shift without consequence , flopping into the limp position when lifted and replaced , so they can be relocated in the second best chair if necessary .

Not so Kitty .

She has little interest in fighting over chairs with me , preferring to seek out the occasional shafts of sunlight and lie on the floor flat on her back with her belly exposed ( the same belly which appears to make lying like a normal cat untenable ).

She is much more herself in D's office , engaging in the daily tussle for who gets the desk first , and once there , how best to lie the head on the keyboard for maximum disruptive effect . The cats all adore that desk , partly because D is an easy target . His feelings are written all over his face as he returns from a quick coffee break to find the head has pressed Escape and his report is Disappeared . He mutters and comments and makes tutting noises which add to their delight , and in the case of the Birmans he moves and pushes them into place and instructs them on where to sit and which places to leave alone and how to follow the path he has made through his belongings to the window behind the desk in order to minimize the number of paper clips and scissors that go flying .

Not so with Kitty , who is She who must not be antagonised . Say no more.

Pearl Birman , the butter wouldnt melt blue point

5am . My eyes hurting . I wake . Try to sleep . Read . Cant read . Eyes hurting .
6am . I open the bedroom door and the Guinea Pigs squeal hugely . Come down for eye drops and feed them lest they wake the household . The cats start their swarming .
6.30am . Seems pointless to return upstairs . I open the laptop.
Pearl starts her morning routine early . A flying leap onto the high mantelpiece . Lands and slides . Centres herself and stares into the mirror nonchalantly . Looks out into the room for D , who looks on her antics less fondly than we do , not wanting to waste her performance if he is not there to witness it . Ponders a while . He is clearly not there . Is it worth the effort of flicking off a few articles , just so he will see them out of place the minute he enters the sitting room ( left impeccably tidy late last night ?) Or is it better to hang fire till he is there to watch ? She gives a cursory flick with her paw and peers over the edge as the nail clippers fly off the edge , landing with a disproportionate crash on the old Victorian tiles . Hm , perhaps one more thing . A packet of strawberry and cream flavoured hard boiled sweets go flying . Thud . Hardly worth it . A card from William next door . She pushes it hard with an upward movement but it practically floats . A look of disdain . She edges towards a little bottle of expensive cuticle oil , stll boxed for added protection and gives it a slight push . Another glance at the door . No sign of him . The oil would certainly make him squeak , later , and she hesitates , pushes it back into place and lands with a thud of her own on the carpet .
7pm . D enters the room stage left , and heads straight for the fallen articles. Pearl grins from her parking space under the table .
Result!