Flaws and wayward women

Set to packing up my printer to send for repair. First line of instructions:

1. Print your attached order summary and include it in the box with your product(s).

Do you see the flaw?

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I'm also doing the church newsletter. Recently I've been including advice from the Book of Proverbs each week. I've reached chapter 5.

"Why embrace the bosom of a wayward woman?"

Or, "A loving doe, a graceful deer – may her breasts satisfy you always, may you ever be intoxicated with her love." 

It's all about avoiding adultery. I've skipped on to chapter 6. While the church is getting used to my sense of humour, that might be pushing it too far.

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We've made the decision to close Rough Edges. I say 'we'; I mean Sean and I. There's a distinct lack of trustees at the moment.

It's partly down to not making enough to earn its keep, but also a shortage of reliable volunteers. Our managers, Kathryn and Richard, have been wonderful but they're both in their 70s, and have lots of other commitments, and it's not fair on them. 

So I'm off there now to take more photos to try and attract buyers. And it looks as though the sun is coming out, hooray! While one news report says we're heading for a summer of heatwaves, the weather forecast gives us rain for the next two weeks. We'll have to wait and see who is right.

Maybe I'll get a chance to rub down and plant my giant teacup. To go with my normal-sized teapots.

Bounding along but slowly

I have spent most of the afternoon trying to sort out my printer. After a long slow chat online with Canon Support, we concluded that the printer isn't taking in paper. Actually Husband and I had already worked that out and, indeed, I'd written it in the Subject box of my query.

But we had to go through the process. "Is the printer turned on?" etc.

Finally she agreed and sent me a form to ask for repair. Fortunately it's only 11 months old so is still under warranty, a fact I kept checking all the way through the process.

At one point she asked me for a phone number and I panicked. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to talk to a real person! She'll ask me questions I don't understand!"

But I didn't have to. Now all I have to do is pack up the printer and send it away. Naturally I didn't keep the box . . .

* * * * *

Last night at Zac's went okay. I'd planned to do communion at the end but we ran out of time. Which was just as well as I'd forgotten to take any bread with me. 

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I'm cooking a piece of gammon for dinner. I always do it in the pressure cooker and finish it off in the oven. This afternoon as I went to do that I remembered my pressure cooker isn't working. I put the meat in anyway and will just wing it. I'm in that sort of a mood.

* * * * *

Went to Rebound this morning, that's exercise class on mini trampolines. Once I'd plucked up courage to let go of the bar I was better until it came to moving my arms and legs in different directions. Too much for a brain to cope with. Afterwards two of the ladies were going for coffee and asked me to join them. Ooh, I felt like a proper grown-up who goes for coffee for no reason. (I had tea of course.)

* * * * *

Am concerned about Marie who hasn't blogged since March when there were health issues. Kathy and Debra are both on a blog sabbatical. Blogging world is very quiet. 

The despicability of printers and bindweed

Is there anything in the IT world more challenging than a printer?

In my lifetime printers have caused me far more grief than is reasonable for a quiet little machine that just sits there for most of the time. (As I was writing that sentence my screen went blank and it seemed that everything had died. Then it came back.)

Yesterday I decided to print out my Zac's prep notes so I could sit comfortably and read them. The printer - which to be fair has been warning me for some time - said, "I'm out of toner. I will not print."

Considered the options: getting toner quickly or hand-writing 13 sides of A4. (It's in very big print so I don't have to wear my glasses when using my notes in Zac's.)

I ordered toner and paid extra to make sure it would be delivered today. Which it was. This afternoon.

So I set my notes printing. We get through 9 sides and then it jams. "Remove jammed paper." I do so arguing that it wasn't really that jammed anyway.

Several attempts later and the message remains the same even though there clearly isn't anything jammed.

"Have you switched both your computer and the printer off and on again?" Husband asks.

I try that. Same message. I am begging it to work now but it sniffs and insists paper is jammed. I peer inside its delicate mechanism. I wonder if it's dusty. I blow it. I get a bit of paper and ram it in. I mean, I gently poked it. I peer in again and see a tiny brown bit of something and wonder if that is causing a problem. It seems unlikely but . . . I get a damp cotton bud and poke that in. I am successful and retrieve tiny brown bit but still printer refuses to work.

I give up. I finish writing out my notes by hand.

Bindweed and printers. On the same level of despicability.

Finding poetry

Now I've lost my shears.

It's one thing to lose scissors, but shears? I had to get out an old pair of shears - and quickly found out why I bought a new pair. They did cut but only if they felt like it.

For a few moments I thought I'd lost my new yellow watering can too. I bought bright yellow deliberately so I couldn't lose it. I found it at last but had to wander around the garden a few times. I knew I'd used it near the barbecue (to pour water over Grandson3 who'd been water-shooting me earlier and I promised I'd get my revenge! And sweet it was!) So I was convinced it had to be there somewhere.

Do you do that? Be convinced the watering can/scissors/shears/whatever is in a certain place and keep looking there even though it's plainly not there?

* * * * *

Someone from writing group suggested we do some found poetry. In the example she sent me, the writer had taken a page from a book and inked out most of it just leaving odd words to create a poem.

When I did it on a writing course we did it differently. In the first example I cut words out of a magazine, and fitted them together in a way I liked.

Jeremy Clarkson was a car person from television who wrote sometimes amusing articles in a Sunday magazine. All the words or phrases in this poem are taken from one of his articles.

I think the cutting-out method gives us more scope so I'll probably suggest that to the group.

And finally, do you like my new t-shirt?

Catching up

Continued to swim, weed, and potter around the garden while the heat lasted. Rainy today and the forecast's not good. But that's good for the garden and means, after tomorrow, I should be able to get down to some serious weeding. I did make a start on the raspberry patch. Filled two garden waste bags and that's just with the obvious, easy-pull stuff. Need to be more thorough.

Leading Zac's tomorrow so currently prepping. It always happens: I start off checking on something and end up following paths to lots of other things. Fascinating stuff.

Meanwhile in the garden. This is our here-one-day-gone-the-next bush, whose flowers drop off daily.

I ordered four dahlia plants from Sarah Raven. Only two of them have grown; the other two are dead. I messaged the company last week. Their standard email reply said due to high number of emails it would take a week to reply. Is that because all their plants are duff, do you think? I hope two replacements are already on their way to me.

Anyway, last time I planted dahlias the slugs completely destroyed them so I wanted to protect them this time. Husband has slug pellets but I wasn't convinced they were pet-friendly - and we have two dogs who visit us, one of whom will eat anything. So I bought this:

The wet wool pellets apparently form a surface that is unpleasant to slugs. I might have put too many down because it looks like dog vomit now.

And with the rain incoming I decided to pick some of my roses.

MPs and aliens

I emailed our MP recently asking him to confirm his position regarding Keir Starmer's leadership. (I want him to stay.) His answer gave absolutely nothing away. He would not commit. All the standard blurb about what's best for the party and the country, blah blah, blah. Pah!

Remember the woman in church who gave us a 'word' to look out for news of aliens this week? This was posted by the White House yesterday.

Obviously they're talking about immigrants. Maybe that's what she was getting at.

I've just sent my monthly article to the editor. I'm early because I'm getting political and I want his approval, in case I need to moderate it or write a different one. I'm only pointing out that the party that bangs on about Christian values chooses to ignore those values when it comes to how we treat aliens/ immigrants. He can decide if I'm over-stepping my place as the writer of living life as a Christian.

Off to the library now. Running out of books to read. Of course I have a huge TBR pile but, well, you know.

* * * * *

I forgot to take a bag so told myself I would take out three books maximum. I brought home four, large, hardbacks, that I had to carry back to the car via the garden shop to get pet-friendly slug protection for plants.

Then before coming home I popped into Saint Hugo Bakery to buy a cake recommended by Elder Son as the best pastry he'd ever had. It has a strange name I can't pronounce.

From a website:

The kouign-amann is pronounced “queen a-mahn” and is from Brittany, France. The name comes from the Breton language words for cake (kouign) and butter (amann).

I was disappointed. It wasn't as I anticipated: layers of sweet, caramelised pastry, but rather a doughy centre with a sweet topping.

Have now discussed this with Elder Son and you would think we were talking about different pastries. Maybe the baker had an off day. 

* * * * *

The editor is very happy to publish my 'excellent' article. I'm glad.

First time this year

First swim yesterday.

Twenty degrees in the water, 32.9 in the shade. Wonderful.

More gardening today. Weeding, tying up roses and peonies, sweating, losing things. I can't find the scissors. Normally I would blame Husband but I was definitely the last one using it in the garden. I remember my belt dropped off at one point so if I can remember where that was there might be the scissors. However, I've looked EVERYWHERE. Must be naughty elves.

One a day

The canes went quickly once I'd put them on Facebook marketplace so, pleased about that.

I was battling with myself over whether to go to exercise this morning. I haven't been for ages for a variety of reasons. Eventually I decided that I get hot enough during an ordinary session - it's in a church hall not an air-conditioned gym - and going in this heat I would be at risk of melting completely. So I messaged them only to find out it's half-term so it's not on anyway! Yay! Don't have to feel guilty. 

Instead I went out and did some gardening in the shadiest bit of garden I could find. A pleasant surprise: in between the weeds I discovered that the potatoes that had gone to seed last year, that I'd stuck in the ground, are growing. At least I assume that's what they are. I'm pretty sure of it.

What I haven't mentioned in regard to our holiday is ice cream.

My holiday mantra of 'One a day' fell far short this time, on account of Husband's sickness. We did manage to - what's the phrase? bookmark? No. One at each end. What is it? Anyway, we did at our favourite ice cream parlour.

I was so excited by my nutella sundae I failed to get it into focus!

The next time I had peach melba.

The grandchildren loved their exotica sundaes with coconut ice cream and mango.

And while we're on the subject of food, we also paid a visit to the 'croissant' café.

So much choice! And so delicious.

Bookend! Is that it?