You know how it is when you're doing something repetitive. You wonder if perhaps there might be a better way of doing it, that would save time or effort ... or both and, depending on the circumstances, possibly a whole lot of money, too! I found myself in just such a situation some years ago, tried doing it a different way and realised that this wasn't the first time that week I'd changed the way I was doing that job and improved the technique. Realising that this particular task, once finished, was unlikely to recur, I coined this mantra: "By the time I've finished this job, I'll have refined to the utmost a skill that I'll never need again."
Once it was into my head, I was astonished just how often this proved to be true. I found the need to change a series of Excel graphs, for example, and the process for doing the first two or three seemed a bit long-winded until I hit on a better way; then in a while I realised that if I did step B before step A, there would be no need to do step C ... and so on, until the last two followed the perfect routine. I no longer use those graphs at all, so the need will never arise again.
The latest, and very simple example of this truism came this week. Some months ago, I attended a jumble sale where much of the stuff available was, quite frankly, rubbish ... at least it was according to my standards of never buying anything for which it would be difficult in my small flat to find a home. And yet, I wanted to support the cause for which the jumble sale was being held. Finally, I spotted a little set of photo frames and 'snapped them up' <groan>. I found them a 'home', sitting on the top of a bookcase, in a neat little heap, waiting for the right pictures to come along to fill them.
Such an opportunity arose this week and, as I selected the pictures, copied and printed them, cut out the prints and finally disassembled the frames and mounted the pictures inside, I realised that, although there were only four of them, I'd used three different methods of carrying out each step, and only the last two were done the 'best' way. If ever I need to display multiple pictures again ... (you know the rest!)
Nearly four years ago, in my family history studies, I devised a check-list to make sure that all the various records that I keep had been completed. The form itself has passed through a number of variations, reaching what - for the present, at least - is the most useful document for the purpose. This week I've spent some while modifying some of the pages of the 'coffee-table' book that is the ultimate presentation of the results of my ongoing research. In some cases it was literally as small a detail as the format of marriage dates, so that they all look the same: dd.mm.yyyy. In other cases, there was a glaring error to be corrected or missing dates that ought to be available on line via one record set or another.
Some of these corrections would have been eliminated at the outset had I at that time been using the check-list developed more recently. In some cases, such as the one I'm about to describe, more information has become available since the error was made. This particular sixth cousin is the daughter of a lady who bore the distinctive forenames 'Alice Octavia'. Alice was the youngest of a family of eight (as you might guess from her second name). In 1901, her family appears in as correct a form as possible: father, mother, two sons and five daughters, listed in sequence, with Alice as the last one.
With that name, Octavia, she had to be the eighth child, though. Usually in these circumstances, my next step would be to look at the 1911 census, where the so-called 'fertility' questions would provide the precise boundaries for the research. In this instance this facility was denied me, however, since the mother of these children died in 1903. (This resource isn't always as helpful as it might seem, either. I was looking at one family recently, where the woman claimed to have had twelve children, of whom seven were still living. Apart from the seven living ones, I was able to trace only one who had been born and died between censuses, and therefore had qualified for no other mention.)
At the time of my original research, I had found one instance of a birth and death in the same quarter, and had included this child as the eighth one I had been looking for. As I now looked at the page with fresh eyes, though, I was suspicious. My cousin had provided me with the precise birth dates of her mother and the six aunts and uncles she knew. Her mother was born in November 1900, and her youngest aunt in July 1898. The birth of the infant I'd found, who had died in the same quarter as she was born, had also been registered in the September quarter of 1898. Although there was no note to that effect, I now assume that I had previously thought of these two as twins, one of whom had died, and the other survived.
I felt I ought to check. If this were the case, then their birth registrations would be either identical, or would differ by one, if one child were the last entry on one page and the other the first entry on the next page. In this case, Alice's known sister was registered with the number 974; the infant who died appeared under the reference 970 ... unlikely if they were twins. Since that initial research, the Registration Office has released a new facility, where the mother's maiden name of each birth registration can be looked up on line. This makes research of this nature much simpler. I checked all seven of the 'known' children and found that the name applied to each registration was Bailey, confirming the family link. The name for the child under reference 970 was ... Parsons. She was clearly not the girl - or boy - I sought.
Next, I checked each year around the times these known children were born, right back to the time of their parents' marriage (and a little before 'just in case'), both in the Suffolk area where the family were living and also where the marriage took place, which was in London, Miss Bailey having been born in Kent. Eventually, I came up with just one additional birth with the mother's maiden name shown as Bailey, and a quick check revealed that she, too, had died within weeks of her birth, and so missed any census record. Annie, born and died 1898, was quickly changed to Mary Jane, born and died 1890, and I noted with some satisfaction that this infant had also been given two forenames as had all of her siblings, except for two who had enjoyed the luxury of three!
Of these, one - the firstborn of the eight - had his own distinctive name, George, to which had been appended both of his father's, Allen James, while the daughter born in the jubilee year of 1897 was called by the names of three generations of royalty, Victoria Alexandra May, these last two being the spouses of the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) and the Duke of York (later George V).
This improved technique, at least, is one I'm sure I shall be using again ... and again!
Friday 28 February 2020
Friday 21 February 2020
Ball and Chain
Please accept my apologies for any offence caused by the use of this phrase for my title this week. Notwithstanding its later resentful reference to the oft-caricatured imposition by a wife of restrictions on the preferred solo behaviour of her husband, the origin of the phrase was a means of restraint of prisoners dating back to the early 19th century, or even earlier. A heavy metal ball was tethered to the leg of the prisoner by a length of chain and a manacle, thus making escape - or movement in general - if not impossible, then certainly most inconvenient.
In its two separate parts, the phrase suits my themes (inasmuch as any of my titles are so suited!) In the light of last week's post, the ball is inevitably a football. I had initially looked forward to a second giant-killing expedition by my favourite team, after their defeat of the league leaders. However, when I looked at my diary, I discovered that the fixture clashed with a family history meeting that I was anxious to attend, having missed the last one because it was on the day of our autumn ringing outing. My sense of disappointment was relieved, however, when I learned that the match was postponed because of a waterlogged pitch.
On to part two, which I shall explain at greater length. This is the chain by which one event or happening inevitably leads on to another. For schools in this area, this week has been half-term; normally this fact doesn't impinge at all on my activities but that didn't hold true on this occasion.
Some weeks ago, when I planned the Bible studies for my church home-group this term, I left a gap for next Wednesday, which is Ash Wednesday. This fact has no direct effect on our meeting, but it is usually a good 'hook' upon which to hang a mid-term break. One of our number then received an appointment for a hospital consultation on the Wednesday of this week, which would have meant missing two weeks from what was a neatly filled schedule. The obvious answer was to bring forward our break and simply carry out next week what we would have done this week.
This meant that I had a completely free day. How should I fill it? I began by looking at train times, thinking a day out in this manner would be a welcome change from driving somewhere. That very evening, I learned of a trip being organised by our church's families and youth workers. Only too aware of the difficulties in keeping children occupied for this week, especially when the weather doesn't invite family trips to anywhere, they were planning a coach visit to a half-size replica of Noah's Ark which is presently 'parked' at Ipswich's Orwell Quay. The notice I saw invited all to join them with the implied aim of filling the coach and recovering more of the financial outlay.
With not a little apprehension, I took this as an opportunity to fill my spare day with little personal effort, and promptly sent off an e-mail expressing interest. A speedy response told me that, yes, there were still seats available, and my name had been added to the list. Sorted! As I queued to board, I was warned that, as the only adult male going, I should be responsible for all the little boys on board. This tease was accompanied by graphic and (I hope) exaggerated descriptions of their various potential needs. (Perhaps at this juncture, I should reflect on the possible relevance of the original meaning of my chosen title!)
Quite apart from the fact that I'm not officially cleared for such duties in any case, any apprehension in that regard was entirely unwarranted. Although one or two parents were relieved to release their little darlings into the custody of trusted friends, there were sufficient qualified adults and mothers on board to meet the needs of all the youngsters in the party. The exhibit was both interesting of itself and also instructive in a variety of ways. I won't spoil the excitement for you. Further information is on the website and it will be in Ipswich until the end of March.
Whether or not it was linked to half-term, I'm not sure, but the fact remained that there was no drop-in yesterday morning. Realising this, alongside the pressure I described last week, I had offered for my usual afternoon at the warehouse to extend this week to all day if required. This was warmly welcomed and, consequently, I arrived yesterday morning to find - with many staff absent on leave - the keys to one of the vans, along with a couple of collection notes. For the first time, I was out solo on a run that would normally be undertaken by two or three.
Nevertheless, the tasks were simple and the problems few, and the only really awkward point was getting a narrow bookcase, about 2 metres tall, from door to van in a strong wind. I had to fight to avoid being blown away, but eventually succeeded in getting it on board. Later, along with a colleague, I visited a total of five shops to deliver items of furniture that had been pre-arranged, so that they had prepared space for their arrival.
All in all, the way one thing has led to another, this has been a very different week from my usual: in truth, a half-term to remember!
In its two separate parts, the phrase suits my themes (inasmuch as any of my titles are so suited!) In the light of last week's post, the ball is inevitably a football. I had initially looked forward to a second giant-killing expedition by my favourite team, after their defeat of the league leaders. However, when I looked at my diary, I discovered that the fixture clashed with a family history meeting that I was anxious to attend, having missed the last one because it was on the day of our autumn ringing outing. My sense of disappointment was relieved, however, when I learned that the match was postponed because of a waterlogged pitch.
On to part two, which I shall explain at greater length. This is the chain by which one event or happening inevitably leads on to another. For schools in this area, this week has been half-term; normally this fact doesn't impinge at all on my activities but that didn't hold true on this occasion.
Some weeks ago, when I planned the Bible studies for my church home-group this term, I left a gap for next Wednesday, which is Ash Wednesday. This fact has no direct effect on our meeting, but it is usually a good 'hook' upon which to hang a mid-term break. One of our number then received an appointment for a hospital consultation on the Wednesday of this week, which would have meant missing two weeks from what was a neatly filled schedule. The obvious answer was to bring forward our break and simply carry out next week what we would have done this week.
This meant that I had a completely free day. How should I fill it? I began by looking at train times, thinking a day out in this manner would be a welcome change from driving somewhere. That very evening, I learned of a trip being organised by our church's families and youth workers. Only too aware of the difficulties in keeping children occupied for this week, especially when the weather doesn't invite family trips to anywhere, they were planning a coach visit to a half-size replica of Noah's Ark which is presently 'parked' at Ipswich's Orwell Quay. The notice I saw invited all to join them with the implied aim of filling the coach and recovering more of the financial outlay.
With not a little apprehension, I took this as an opportunity to fill my spare day with little personal effort, and promptly sent off an e-mail expressing interest. A speedy response told me that, yes, there were still seats available, and my name had been added to the list. Sorted! As I queued to board, I was warned that, as the only adult male going, I should be responsible for all the little boys on board. This tease was accompanied by graphic and (I hope) exaggerated descriptions of their various potential needs. (Perhaps at this juncture, I should reflect on the possible relevance of the original meaning of my chosen title!)
Quite apart from the fact that I'm not officially cleared for such duties in any case, any apprehension in that regard was entirely unwarranted. Although one or two parents were relieved to release their little darlings into the custody of trusted friends, there were sufficient qualified adults and mothers on board to meet the needs of all the youngsters in the party. The exhibit was both interesting of itself and also instructive in a variety of ways. I won't spoil the excitement for you. Further information is on the website and it will be in Ipswich until the end of March.
Whether or not it was linked to half-term, I'm not sure, but the fact remained that there was no drop-in yesterday morning. Realising this, alongside the pressure I described last week, I had offered for my usual afternoon at the warehouse to extend this week to all day if required. This was warmly welcomed and, consequently, I arrived yesterday morning to find - with many staff absent on leave - the keys to one of the vans, along with a couple of collection notes. For the first time, I was out solo on a run that would normally be undertaken by two or three.
Nevertheless, the tasks were simple and the problems few, and the only really awkward point was getting a narrow bookcase, about 2 metres tall, from door to van in a strong wind. I had to fight to avoid being blown away, but eventually succeeded in getting it on board. Later, along with a colleague, I visited a total of five shops to deliver items of furniture that had been pre-arranged, so that they had prepared space for their arrival.
All in all, the way one thing has led to another, this has been a very different week from my usual: in truth, a half-term to remember!
Friday 14 February 2020
Focus on Football
I confess to the occasional moment of surprise when I realise how much of a 'fan' I've become in recent years. I used to hate football when I was at school: I remember it always being cold and usually wet on Wednesdays, when we would parade along the public highway the half-mile from the school to the playing field in shirt and shorts, to spend an hour or so running after a heavy leather ball that would never go where you wanted when you did actually get to kick it, and that stung horribly if it hit you. Exhausted, we would then straggle the half mile back, hoping that there would still be hot water in the shower by the time we made it to the changing room.
Since my return to the game as a 'live spectator', I find the ups and downs of non-league football quite absorbing, even more so since 2016, when my former boss became joint manager of a brand-new local team. There have been a number of memorable games and incidents; it was fitting that the first match that I watched, nearly ten years ago, involved Diss Town, my home team as a youth. On that occasion they were drawn against Newmarket Town in the FA Cup and, towards the end of the game, their deficit in goals was matched by their deficit in players after their captain was sent off for arguing with the referee's decision to award a penalty to the other side.
My loyalty to Diss persisted when they had a league match within easy driving distance of my home, at Ely, for example, or Haverhill. I remember one match at Haverhill when they played in a pale blue away strip (replacing their normal orange and white colours) and won. The next time I watched them was the following season when they played a junior team at Cambridge's Abbey Stadium, again in the pale blue strip, and won 4-0! In those days, it was both an aim and an achievement to visit as many different grounds as possible, including my first sight of an artificial playing surface at Harlow Town. Early one autumn, I had a day trip to the seaside and watched Great Yarmouth Town play Gorleston - again in the FA Cup - at one of the oldest grounds continuously staging matches.
My now favoured team, Biggleswade FC, put in a number of good performances last season in the FA Vase, when they reached the last eight in the competition. A number of their ties were at home, where attendance records were broken against Stowmarket Town and against Windsor, and I made a unique coach trip to Kent where they were finally defeated by Canterbury Town. This winter, after the second promotion in their three-season history, Biggleswade are playing in the first division of the Southern League, which has set them many challenges, and the excitement was very great leading up to last weekend's match against the league leaders, Corby Town, whom they beat 2-0, and they are now privileged to stand 9th in the league table as they travel tomorrow to play the team currently in 3rd position, Halesowen Town.
Turning to other interests, last weekend was particularly satisfying for me, with a totally different kind of 90 minutes on Sunday afternoon, as I attended a live interview with the former Speaker, John Bercow, visiting Letchworth to promote his autobiography, 'Unspeakable'. This was an unforgettable occasion, when he revealed some of the behind the scenes aspects of parliamentary life, elements of his own story and also his abilities as an impersonator!
I'm always on the lookout for unexpected moments from my regular 'work' pattern and just such a one came this morning. For weeks now, the warehouse where I volunteer has been choc-a-bloc with furniture, to the extent that an additional van has been procured to assist in its disposal, alongside the regular servicing of the retail shops. This has coincided with the annual challenge of getting the drivers to use their full leave entitlement before it expires, not to mention the difficulties in finding enough volunteers to form an additional crew. As a one-off gesture to relieve this pressure, my manager decided to accompany me this morning to deliver goods to some of the stores. Far from feeling 'under supervision', I found it a very pleasant and relaxing time, as we chatted like old friends.
Since my return to the game as a 'live spectator', I find the ups and downs of non-league football quite absorbing, even more so since 2016, when my former boss became joint manager of a brand-new local team. There have been a number of memorable games and incidents; it was fitting that the first match that I watched, nearly ten years ago, involved Diss Town, my home team as a youth. On that occasion they were drawn against Newmarket Town in the FA Cup and, towards the end of the game, their deficit in goals was matched by their deficit in players after their captain was sent off for arguing with the referee's decision to award a penalty to the other side.
My loyalty to Diss persisted when they had a league match within easy driving distance of my home, at Ely, for example, or Haverhill. I remember one match at Haverhill when they played in a pale blue away strip (replacing their normal orange and white colours) and won. The next time I watched them was the following season when they played a junior team at Cambridge's Abbey Stadium, again in the pale blue strip, and won 4-0! In those days, it was both an aim and an achievement to visit as many different grounds as possible, including my first sight of an artificial playing surface at Harlow Town. Early one autumn, I had a day trip to the seaside and watched Great Yarmouth Town play Gorleston - again in the FA Cup - at one of the oldest grounds continuously staging matches.
My now favoured team, Biggleswade FC, put in a number of good performances last season in the FA Vase, when they reached the last eight in the competition. A number of their ties were at home, where attendance records were broken against Stowmarket Town and against Windsor, and I made a unique coach trip to Kent where they were finally defeated by Canterbury Town. This winter, after the second promotion in their three-season history, Biggleswade are playing in the first division of the Southern League, which has set them many challenges, and the excitement was very great leading up to last weekend's match against the league leaders, Corby Town, whom they beat 2-0, and they are now privileged to stand 9th in the league table as they travel tomorrow to play the team currently in 3rd position, Halesowen Town.
Turning to other interests, last weekend was particularly satisfying for me, with a totally different kind of 90 minutes on Sunday afternoon, as I attended a live interview with the former Speaker, John Bercow, visiting Letchworth to promote his autobiography, 'Unspeakable'. This was an unforgettable occasion, when he revealed some of the behind the scenes aspects of parliamentary life, elements of his own story and also his abilities as an impersonator!
I'm always on the lookout for unexpected moments from my regular 'work' pattern and just such a one came this morning. For weeks now, the warehouse where I volunteer has been choc-a-bloc with furniture, to the extent that an additional van has been procured to assist in its disposal, alongside the regular servicing of the retail shops. This has coincided with the annual challenge of getting the drivers to use their full leave entitlement before it expires, not to mention the difficulties in finding enough volunteers to form an additional crew. As a one-off gesture to relieve this pressure, my manager decided to accompany me this morning to deliver goods to some of the stores. Far from feeling 'under supervision', I found it a very pleasant and relaxing time, as we chatted like old friends.
Friday 7 February 2020
All Systems Go!
Back in the summer of last year, I wrote here about some of the delights of being a volunteer. A lot of water has flowed beneath the proverbial bridge since then.
[Let me digress for a moment and say that, in this town there are very few bridges. A railway line passes through the town, under two bridges and over another, and there are a couple of footbridges that cross it too; but there are, I venture to say, no river bridges. Our tiny stream (it's actually called a brook) is piped beneath all the roads that pass over it.]
Geography apart - historically accurate though the reference might be - many things have changed over the course of nearly six months since I wrote that article. New faces have come along and most have gone again, but the odd one has stayed. One or two have drifted off the scene for a variety of reasons and have, happily, made a come-back.
Looking back on my working life, I have rarely worked as part of a team. That's not to say I haven't worked with other people ... far from it. But in the sense of a team in which each member either is dependent on the achievements of another, or is capable of replacing another one in the line ... that's not really been me. I've pretty well had my own task to do within the overall scheme of things, and provided I did it properly, that was all right. And certainly, when I was working as a courier, it was all solo work: I was given a load, or told where to collect it; I took it to its destination and I came back for more.
I spoke on that earlier occasion about a system working the way it should. The main work I do now, as a volunteer, is in the 'scanning department'. Donations are received, and are made available for purchase in one of a number of retail shops, with the proceeds going to help fund the work of our local hospice. Goods that have been on display for a while, but clearly aren't attracting the attention of shoppers, find their way to the warehouse, where we attempt other ways to turn them into the cash we need. In the case of my department, we scan books, DVDs, CDs etc. in order to sell them to on-line companies who buy in bulk and then sell on according to the esoteric needs of an individual customer. I find it easier to work the complete process on my own, but often someone else is asked to 'help me', and it can be a strain to tailor my work to that of another.
It sounds simple, but each firm's website is different and behind the actual work of scanning lies a complete strategy to control - or at least monitor - what's going on, so that income is maximised and volunteers' time is not wasted re-doing something that has already been done. With people coming and going throughout the week, this is essential. When I arrived, about a year and a half ago, now, there were a number of scruffy, handwritten sheets of paper pinned to the notice board, containing the basic details of each website. Each one had a number of changes and crossings out and, a few weeks ago, I was asked if I would type them up tidily so that, once laminated, they could do the job they were meant to. Once I'd begun, I realised that what these old sheets were saying was no longer how we are working, and what started as a tidying-up exercise turned into the production of a complete set of procedure documents.
The completion of these coincided with the arrival of yet another new volunteer to be shown what we are doing. His training, coupled with his possession of far more intuition and 'process-awareness' than most who have come - and gone - before, gave the new procedures a live trial and has proved their worth. After only a few weeks, we are working together as a proper team and it seems that is still the case on the days when he is there and I'm not.
I long ago decided to document the various tasks that need to be completed as I've made my family history discoveries down the years. Over the time I've been working on it, the records I've been keeping have changed, and some have been replaced completely, so the 'procedure document' has also changed. A few years ago, I replaced it with a simple check-sheet which has gradually evolved as I've realised the need to track more and more aspects of the task.
You will by now have realised by one comment or another than I live and breathe spreadsheets, either as financial records or simply as a database. After a disastrous foray with a national offshoot of the Liberal Democrats last autumn, I've now taken on the mantle of membership secretary of my local branch. A week or two into the new year, I inherited the spreadsheet on which all the key information is kept and from time to time since I've been colour-coding things, and 'automating' it, so that I can easily see when people have overlooked renewing their subscriptions and so on.
I suppose it's just how my mind has been disciplined over the years, but I do find it satisfying to process data in this way, and strange though it might seem to many, it helps me to deal with the very stuff of life itself.
Uh-oh, it's time to kick off the 'shutting down and going to bed' process ... more relaxed news next week, perhaps!
[Let me digress for a moment and say that, in this town there are very few bridges. A railway line passes through the town, under two bridges and over another, and there are a couple of footbridges that cross it too; but there are, I venture to say, no river bridges. Our tiny stream (it's actually called a brook) is piped beneath all the roads that pass over it.]
Geography apart - historically accurate though the reference might be - many things have changed over the course of nearly six months since I wrote that article. New faces have come along and most have gone again, but the odd one has stayed. One or two have drifted off the scene for a variety of reasons and have, happily, made a come-back.
Looking back on my working life, I have rarely worked as part of a team. That's not to say I haven't worked with other people ... far from it. But in the sense of a team in which each member either is dependent on the achievements of another, or is capable of replacing another one in the line ... that's not really been me. I've pretty well had my own task to do within the overall scheme of things, and provided I did it properly, that was all right. And certainly, when I was working as a courier, it was all solo work: I was given a load, or told where to collect it; I took it to its destination and I came back for more.
I spoke on that earlier occasion about a system working the way it should. The main work I do now, as a volunteer, is in the 'scanning department'. Donations are received, and are made available for purchase in one of a number of retail shops, with the proceeds going to help fund the work of our local hospice. Goods that have been on display for a while, but clearly aren't attracting the attention of shoppers, find their way to the warehouse, where we attempt other ways to turn them into the cash we need. In the case of my department, we scan books, DVDs, CDs etc. in order to sell them to on-line companies who buy in bulk and then sell on according to the esoteric needs of an individual customer. I find it easier to work the complete process on my own, but often someone else is asked to 'help me', and it can be a strain to tailor my work to that of another.
It sounds simple, but each firm's website is different and behind the actual work of scanning lies a complete strategy to control - or at least monitor - what's going on, so that income is maximised and volunteers' time is not wasted re-doing something that has already been done. With people coming and going throughout the week, this is essential. When I arrived, about a year and a half ago, now, there were a number of scruffy, handwritten sheets of paper pinned to the notice board, containing the basic details of each website. Each one had a number of changes and crossings out and, a few weeks ago, I was asked if I would type them up tidily so that, once laminated, they could do the job they were meant to. Once I'd begun, I realised that what these old sheets were saying was no longer how we are working, and what started as a tidying-up exercise turned into the production of a complete set of procedure documents.
The completion of these coincided with the arrival of yet another new volunteer to be shown what we are doing. His training, coupled with his possession of far more intuition and 'process-awareness' than most who have come - and gone - before, gave the new procedures a live trial and has proved their worth. After only a few weeks, we are working together as a proper team and it seems that is still the case on the days when he is there and I'm not.
I long ago decided to document the various tasks that need to be completed as I've made my family history discoveries down the years. Over the time I've been working on it, the records I've been keeping have changed, and some have been replaced completely, so the 'procedure document' has also changed. A few years ago, I replaced it with a simple check-sheet which has gradually evolved as I've realised the need to track more and more aspects of the task.
You will by now have realised by one comment or another than I live and breathe spreadsheets, either as financial records or simply as a database. After a disastrous foray with a national offshoot of the Liberal Democrats last autumn, I've now taken on the mantle of membership secretary of my local branch. A week or two into the new year, I inherited the spreadsheet on which all the key information is kept and from time to time since I've been colour-coding things, and 'automating' it, so that I can easily see when people have overlooked renewing their subscriptions and so on.
I suppose it's just how my mind has been disciplined over the years, but I do find it satisfying to process data in this way, and strange though it might seem to many, it helps me to deal with the very stuff of life itself.
Uh-oh, it's time to kick off the 'shutting down and going to bed' process ... more relaxed news next week, perhaps!
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