A 'Winter Holiday' Week

I've chosen my title for this week's blog in recollection of of times when - in certain industries at least - holidays had to be taken within set periods of the year.  My dad, for example, was entitled to a week in the summer and a week in the winter.  While it was a valuable break from the hard work of the other fifty weeks, the winter week was always a bit flat for him.  Once he'd done what he needed to get the garden straight, I don't think he knew what to do with the rest of the time.

For me, this week has been dominated by three things ... one of which shouldn't have been a dominant item in the first place.  I agreed to use my van to take some of the inevitable post-holiday club 'clutter' from the church to the local dump: one van-load would save a number of car trips, so it made sense.  At least it did until I got there on Monday morning.  There I learned that a new permit scheme for all vehicles other than cars had been in force since the beginning of the year.  I was annoyed, because I had been there within the last few months to dispose of an item I'd replaced in the home, and had been admitted without let or hindrance.  I therefore knew nothing of the permit scheme.  The permit is free, but needed to be applied for on line ... from an office in Liverpool!  I made the application immediately, of course, but I'm still waiting for the permit to arrive!  The cardboard, meanwhile, has been 'parked' in the motorhome.

Last weekend, I noticed that there was a small puddle of oil beneath said motorhome, so another task on Monday was to have this checked over.  Now that I've got all the equipment I think I need to make proper use of the vehicle, I felt it would be a good point at which to check the overall weight against that permitted according to the official plate in the cab, so I also incorporated a trip to the nearest public weighbridge, where I learned I have about half a tonne capacity to spare!  The garage cleaned the bottom surfaces and told me to run it for a few days and return.

Ducks doing what ducks do best

On Tuesday, therefore, I sought somewhere interesting to visit not far from home, and discovered a nature reserve near Tring called Cottage Lake, which fulfilled both purposes i.e. a journey in the vehicle, and the ideal of time away from work: relaxation.  When I returned to the garage on Thursday, there was no sign of a leak, so apart from keeping an eye out, all seems to be well.

Then there's the matter of the laptop.  I decided it was time to replace my computer, which is getting a bit tired and, since it's a desktop machine, it puts me at a disadvantage when I go to meetings or for research, in that I need to use a less capable intermediate device.  Following good advice, I ordered on line, thinking it would be in my hands by now.  Sadly there was a problem with the credit card ... well actually a card-user interface difficulty, i.e. I had made an error when I filled out the order document on line ... and the simplest solution was to let that order lapse and re-order it 'properly' later.  I was waiting until this morning, therefore, for confirmation of the order and provision of a delivery date in order to know that all is well at last.

When things aren't going well, I find I tend to think of times long ago, and the other morning I recalled an office where I'd worked some 45 years ago.  In particular, I recalled a typist at that establishment who had a comparatively uncommon surname, and I wondered how easy it would be to find anything out about her now.  I have to praise findmypast.co.uk (although I did complain heavily about their new website last year).  Within little more than half an hour I'd traced the girl's marriage, the birth of her daughter, and a recent address and, thanks to Google Maps, I had found a picture of the neat dwelling that she and her family have occupied for the last thirty-odd years.  Fantastic!

This weekend has seen the first encounters in a competition that will end next May with two top football teams meeting at Wembley ... yes, it's the extra-preliminary round of the FA Cup.  As on the Friday evening of the comparable weekend two years ago, I ventured into Norfolk to support my native team, Diss Town in their efforts.  Sadly, as on that previous occasion at Thetford, today's match ended in a home win, but what a different Diss team set foot on the park at the Elgood Fenland Stadium.  The eighth minute goal that determined the result was very much against the run of play, even up to that early point in the game.  All through the ninety minutes, whenever there was a loose ball, there seemed to be an orange shirt to meet it, and most of the activity seemed to be in the Wisbech half.  The only - but crucial - thing Diss seemed to lack was finishing power.  So many shots landed directly in the goalkeeper's hands and, while not denying that man's power and skill, he didn't have a lot of work to do.

Today also marks the 70th anniversary of VJ-Day.  I had felt that I wouldn't be observing the occasion at all, apart from pondering over my researches concerning the uncle whom I grew up being told that I closely resembled, and who died of malaria while a PoW working on the Burma Railway.  This morning, however, as I drove into town, I happened to notice a gathering by the war memorial.  Putting two and two together, I walked back after parking the van, and was able to join in a short service of commemoration.  Having been unable to take part in the ringing of bells for the occasion, owing to a mis-match of other commitments among the ringers, I felt this more than compensated.

"When you go home, tell them of us and say,  

For your tomorrow, we gave our today."

                                                            -  Kohima Epitaph