muffinandbagels

At least ten years ago my wife and I decided that since neither of us was very keen on doing it, we should have someone come in from time to time to tidy up after us. Because of problems which both of our parents sometimes had with individual cleaners hired directly we decided to go the contractor route. As a result every other Friday we would be visited bu one two or three ladies who would spend an hour or so doing some very specific tasks in accordance with predetermined instructions. This allowed us to maintain the illusion that we were maintaining a clean and tidy home. A month ago we received a phone call telling us that the firm we hired was going out of business at the end of August.
Now we are in a quandary, what should we do. There is another well known household cleaning contractor in town, but so we really need one? On a couple of occasions when one of us has had medical problems, we have sought help from the organisations that provide in house care, the people we have had from them on a short term basis have been very willing to help with the household chores as well, and on a price per hour basis were no more expensive than our contracted cleaners.

In making the naive assumption that most of the household tasks were still done by us anyway preparing the meals, making the beds, doing the laundry have decided to wait a while before rehiring and see what happens if I replace the contractors staff with me. That would give me $79 every two weeks to spend foolishly.

As a house cleaner of considerable years, I first look for tasks that will enable me to see the difference when I complete them, at least that is the theory, but I also need to take into account my wife’s priorities. A classic illustration has recently occurred. For a while I have been bothered by the appearance of the stair carpet, while it was theoretically cleaned every two weeks, the treads seemed to get dirtier and dirtier. Two days ago I removed the carpet from the stairs, took it outside to lay it flat and shampooed it three times to get rid of the embedded grime, you would hardly recognise it when I put it back on the stairs. However my writing was interrupted by my wife saying “What are you going to do about all the yellow bits that came off the carpet and are now beside it on the stairs” This of course demanded immediate attention with brush and mini vacuum cleaner.

In theory I am, or at least once was, a scientist. The linoleum on the upstairs landing which had been underneath the end of the stair carpet, revealed itself as a much lighter colour than the rest of the floor. So the colour of the main floor was not due to fading, but dirt. Trying all the miscellaneous cleaning fluids in the house in turn, I finally settled on a spray can full of bath tub cleanser. Once the froth settled and was rubbed off with a sponge, there was startling improvement in colour. Of course by next week the linoleum may have rotted to destruction from the chemical impact. I have swept floors and washed them with some success, but the whole concept of dusting things is beyond me,, fortunately my wife notices that and deals with it.

It is time for me to stop writing this and to go and use CLR to clean the toilets, a technique I developed over the years when our professional cleaners never did it.

Yesterday, as is my custom for a Thursday, I was out on my bicycle before going to my weekly appointment with the Old Kootz at the Lunar Rogue for lunch. As I was riding up the trail towards the pedestrian overpass, I could see a cluster of people blocking the trail ahead of me. Forced to come to a halt I recognised Justin Trudeau, our ethically challenged Prime Minister in full promise mode, surrounded by the mayor, our local MP, large numbers of camera and microphone wielding media, and a few liberals or persons pausing out of curiosity. As always when you see Prime Ministers out and about, he was discreetly accdompanied by a number of fit looking guys who seemed to have hearing problems, judging by the wires coming out of their ears. The sight took me back some thirty two years.

It was during the planning of the Atlantic Canada Opportunities Agency, there was a meeting of the Atlantic Premiers and the then Prime minister Brian Mulroney in Charlottetown. As a flunkey to Richard Hatfield, the then Premier of New Brunswick, I was present for the occasion, and as I was wearing a new suit, had had a recent hair cut, and was well over six feet tall. I was widely assumed by the Prime Minister’s Mounties to be some sort of security for Hatfield. Brian Mulroney was intending to walk from the hotel where he was staying to the meeting in the Prince Edward Island legislature. I was waitingn for Hatfield outside the building when an individual came up and asked if I knew where my man was, I said yes and he then turned to two old ladies, probably ion their eighties who were standing nearby. He told them that the prime Minister would be coming by shortly and asked if they would like to shake hands with him.

Obviously two dear old ladies would make good video coverage for his “streeter”. Their response put paid to that however, they cried “No *******ing way” and fled at speed.

So you think we are aging

If you’re anxious for to show
To the people that you know
That you are still alive
You need to send a letter
To explain you’re feeling better
And that you really thrive
You can say you’re having fun describing things you’ve done
Staying closely to the truth
And all their doubts demolish, and their faith in you astonish
As you’ve preserved your youth
And all your friends will say
As they chatter every day
If that old pair can live like that they will certainly outlive me
What a very dedicated fit old pair that fit old pair must be.

You can tell them if you like
On your skis or on your bike
You exercise with glee
Writing up your treatise
On defeating diabetes
Despite a dodgy knee.
The treadmill that you walk on as you wear your cap from Boston
Where you ran the marathon
There’s no need for them to know it was fifteen years ago
That you first put that hat on
And all your friends will find
As they talk about your mind
If that old pair is still as bright as they certainly used to be
The what a very privileged and bright old pair that bright old pair must be

While you’re busily emoting
On a blog that clearly gloating
But could really be much worse
If you modified expression
To create a good impression
And wrote it all in verse
Utilising leisure in reducing your blood pressure
As you aim to stave off ills
Despite the awful warnings you’re receiving in the mornings
When you read what’s on your pills.
And everyone will know
As you’ve told them it is so
That this old pair still does their best to say that they are well
By pretending they are better when they send a Christmas letter so nobody can tell

For several years now we have been hearing about the problems for the Federal Government created by Phoenix, their new exotic digital payroll system that seems to systematically fail to pay the right amount to federal employees. It would be a mistake however, to assume this is the only problem lurking within the federal public service. As a simple illustration I Netfiled my income tax return on the 10th of April, and I am yet to receive any acknowledgement of it. It is not through lack of trying. I battled my way through endless press this that or the other options back in August to try and find out how I stood. The very friendly person I finally reached put me on hold for a brief period while they tried to find out what was going on. The response he gave was that my return had not yet been processed, and that in the absence of a response I should phone again in a months time. He also said that I might get a phone call from Revenue Canada. This naturally concerned me as we have all heard about the fake phone calls demanding money from Revenue Canada, but he assured me if I called back on the number I had used to reach him, I could find out if it was legitimate. By October I had still heard nothing, so I repeated the process and got another person on the line, who made enquiries on my behalf, and came back saying that he was told I would just have to wait for my turn!

All this is interesting, but I heard on the morning news the other day that Revenue Canada had made over a billion dollars, through identifying people who were getting benefits they were not entitled to. My most recent experience may explain why. While checking into a bank account that I use for paying intermittent large bills, such as property tax, and tax instalments, I found a lot more money than I expected. Naturally I was delighted, but curious as to who the generous soul was who was enriching me. I discovered that since the first of July I have been receiving the maximum amount of the Old Age Supplement, despite the fact tht my income is above where they start to claw it back. In some confusion I sought a relevant source of information, and once again after pressing numerous buttons I got through to a real person at Service Can ada. He was surprised to hear that I was upset about receiving the OAS, but he put me on hold to look in to it, after brief delay he came back and said that as Revenue Canada had not dealt with my return, Service Canada had no evidence of my income for 2017 and assumed I needed the money and made the payments to me. He confirmed that I could be expected to pay it back in due course, and that he had some way to stop the payments continuing. As it does not involve the Phoenix payroll system, that may work, but I shall watch it closely. Mean while when I file my 2018 tax return next year Revenue Canada will descend on me like a ton of bricks for receiving a benefit I am not entitled to, So now I know why Revenue Canada finds and recovers undeserved benefits, their laggardlyness creates them in the first place.

The history of my knees

When I was but a little lad, 9 years old or so
I raced with others over fields just as fast as I could go
I wore new plimsolls for the race it really was such fun
And even more surprisingly in my first race I won.

That was a great beginning and I was so inspired,
I used to go out running more than was required
Through ten more years of schooling I carried on apace
But alas through all that time, I never won a race.

Then on to University, racing in a team
With really expert runners like living in a dream
We ran through mud and water. Whatever we would meet
I even purchased running shoes with spikes beneath my feet

Occasionally successful, we won from time to time
Though I finished further back the feeling was sublime,
We even had a team that ran for days; a journey that would wend
To finish up at John of Groats that started at Lands End

And then I went for graduate work, with little time to run
But was chosen for a lowly team after work was done.
Alas for lack of training I was not very fast
And competing with the RAF I fear I came in last.

Then off to Australia, my running I forsake
For fear I put my foot down on a really nasty snake.
And then for a few more years I gave my knees a rest
From running, but my lifestyle gave the rest of me a test.

Then we came to Canada, a different kind of place
And quite a lot of people who looked forward to a race
Sometimes on a trail, and sometimes on a bearing
Discovering the hiding spots when out orienteering.

We started as a family. But I soon saw the need
To become competitive I had to increase speed.
To compensate I started out with some sort of training
Running nearly every day even during raining

About this time the fashion grew in many local places
To organise at week ends a series of road races
5 miles at first, and then ten k, and as time went on
It was decided it was time to stage a marathon

The first time that we had one was forty years ago
I ran in it successfully as fast as I could go
Third place in my age group, but when it was complete
I had one solid blister under all of both my feet

The suffering and the painfulness turned out to be good news
From then on I went running in more appropriate shoes
I felt like running daily as fast as I could please
I was as yet unaware of what was happening to my knees

For 20 years I carried on with ever varied pace
Travelling extensively where I could find a race
Marathons in London, in Prague, and yes, Saint John,
Enjoying new experiences where I had never gone.

Each year by Lake Geneva a marathon takes place
My daughter felt the two of us could go and run the rave
But sadly when I got there I quietly had to say
My knees are really troubling, I’ll only run half way.

So I entered the half marathon hoping for the best
I only ran a part of it, I had to walk the rest.
And ever since I no run as I would like
I have to take my exercise riding on my bike

Flu Shot 2017

It seems to be the standard that when you’re feeling bad,
And looking for a person to explain the thing you had
You find you’re not the only one who’s seeking for respite
In fact if at emergency you may be there all night.
Imagine my astonishment, the surprise that I got
When I went into your surgery to have my annual shot.
A message came from Kathy , saying I could join the line
Of people getting flu shots , the hours were five to nine.
I’d had my dinner early, it was my turn to cook,
And thinking of the wait to come, I found myself a book.
I left my wife the washing up, and jumped into my car
And headed down to destiny, it wasn’t very far.
The first surprise that came to me, was that unlike other cases.
Outside of the building were some empty parking spaces.
I parked the car and went inside, I opened up the door,
Just one guy in the waiting room, just one, not any more.
I was going to take a seat as I thought I’d have to stay
Till after him, but Kathy said; “go in there right away.”
I went right in, the nurse arrived and shot me up first try
I turned and left to head for home as Doctor K said “Hi.”
I felt this was a marvellous deal the lack of wait I meant
But may be it is just this time, and not a precedent.

Tim Andrew October 8, 2017

November 11 2018

Remembrance day, only -3, but the wind is gusting at 50 kilometres an hour we did not go down to the war memorial, but many did as always. Once upon a time Guide District Commissioner Sheila used to take a group of guides and Brownies down to march in the Parade, very chilly for them all. At Malvern the whole school was paraded at the foot of the steps in front of the war memorial, all wearing the poppies which we had compulsorily purchased, for the two minutes of silence. Just inside the main door of the chapel there was a memorial to those who had died in World War I The number who died was comparable to the total enrolment in any year. Public school leavers were almost automatically given commissions and as second lieutenants and lieutenants were the most vulnerable in the trench warfare. I am also reminded of being in Crewkerne for Remembrance Day when Simon was on the Council. We went to the service at the church where they read out all the names of those who had died in action since 1914. It was long list for a small town, and many of the surnames were repeated many times, giving an idea how some families must have suffered.

The activities of world leaders in Paris, and the various other commemmorations of the 100th anniversary, may have reminded people of the futility of war, but will it have any long term impact. To me the most striking impact, besides the church service, and the Malvern memorial has been my visits to Normandy when Simon and Sylvia had the house at Balleroy. I visited several of the war cemeteries in the area, both for the allies and for the Germans, the squandering of the lives of so many young men is horrifying, quite apart from the impact of these wars on the civilian populations. When Judy and Harry took Chris over to be christened in Crewkerne, we all went on to Normandy, where Judy, of English extraction, and Harry, of German extraction, took the infant Christopher to a Canadian war cemetery. A nice symbolic gesture I thought.

Despite all of this, while the “world leaders” were commemorating 100 years since world war I some of their forces were undoubtedly wreaking havoc in Yemen or Syria or somewhere in Africa or Latin America. Will we never learn?

In this context it seems trivial to report that this year the Canadian custom of starting to sell poppies from the first of November on has resulted in me buying 5, they do not go well with seat belts.

Reading the accounts of marathons in 2015, my mind goes back nearly 40 years. My first marathon was at Easter time in 1978, the phys. ed. students at the local university put on a marathon in aid of the Heart fund. In those days an avid runner, I read numerous books and magazines to prepare for my first attempt. One writer described how while visiting with college friends in a city the night before a marathon, he discovered they were all running except him. He had a lot of beer, and decided he would run it the next day. He did, and survived. Runners World in those days was high on carbo loading, so I followed one of their suggestions religiously. I cut out carbohydrates on the Monday and had a pure diet until Saturday night. That evening I drank 10 bottles of beer and ate a 15 inch pizza. In the morning I had more beer and a cup of coffee and set out for the start  There were about 50 runners in the marathon, and it was the first time for most of them. I knew I was meant to keep a steady pace and started out slowly. At the turn around point I was about 19th, but steadily overhauled runners all the way home to finish 7th, so my carbo loading worked.

The next year I once again  carbo l0aded, and the result was much the same. Now an enthusiast, I registered for  a marathon in another city with a larger field   and accompanied by an older guy, better than me, on his first marathon. It was hot, and his wife was going to drive along with us to provide him with fluids  . Having checked with the police, who agreed that while it was certainly technically illegal, they would never believe that a marathoner was actually drinking beer in a race, I put a six-pack in my co runner’s wife’s car. I finished the race. and the sixpack in a little over three and a half hours, and found that I had still lost 6 lbs during the race.

I now had a system, and I would arrange for friends or family members to be stationed along the course, to pour beer into cups 5 minutes before I was scheduled to arrive, to reduce the fizz. Using this technology I succeeded in achieving a 3 hour 15 minute time, in a race where I had been mocked at the start for having a cigarette on the start line. I then took a well earned rest from marathons with one exception, in 1988 the Premiers Office staff challenged me to a race, 4 of them would relay, I would be on my own. Lacking any suitable beer carriers I had to run through bars for refreshment, got distracted and lost the challenge.

In 1995 I was visiting my mother in England and we were watching the London Marathon. She wanted to know why I had never run an English Marathon, so I put my name in for 1996, and was successful. Up to now my biggest race had been 300 people, now it was 35,000, a totally different challenge. It was also a qualifying race for the British Olympic team. Sadly my position of 16000 and change did not get me on the team, and I was low on beer.

In 1999, Judy Andrew Piel wanted to run her first Marathon in Prague, and asked me to run it with her. She had booked an apartment on the Marathon route, so I had every confidence that her husband would be able to provide the necessary beer coverage. We ran together for about 10 kilometres, before her young legs abandoned me, and we continued separately. As I approached the apartment thirstily I looked for her husband Harry, but he was not there. About a kilometre further on I saw Harry coming to other way with their kids in a stroller, but no beer! Fortunately I was approaching a park with an outdoor café, and like all good runners I had money in a pocket. Iran to the counter and purchased a litre of beer and left clutching the glass. I drank the beer, and at the next water stop I returned the glass. But I did not catch up with Judy.
One final experience occurred in 2000, both Judy and I got accepted for the London Marathon. This time daughter Robin and a friend were going to watch. I remembered a pub that we ran past at 11 and 19 miles, so I asked them to go there to provide me with sustenance, having provided an estimated time of arrival. Unfortunately I was ahead of schedule, so they only had time to cheer for my first pass. They now guessed when I would be passing again, and as I approached I was spotted, and Robin ran through the crowd of runners with my tankard of beer. Despite rude comments from my fellow runners, I drank the beer and again returned the glass at a water station. Unfortunately as we approached the Tower of London, a carpet had been laid over the cobbled street. Catching my foot on the end of the carpet I fell flat on my face. Sarcastic commentary rather than sympathy was all I got from those who had not had a beer. It is perhaps significant that drinking one glass of beer on the way improved my placing to 12070, 4000 better than four years before.

One final comment, the fastest 10k I ever ran was in Dublin. The team we were competing against sent us round the Guinness brewery before the race where we were well entertained. Feeling no pain I improved my pace by a minute a mile.

This picture was taken at The Perth Kilt run, where Perth Ontario Tries to sety a new world record for the most people running in a kilt. As you can see I had two daughters, a son in law, and a grandson participating. Judy, the one with a visor  rather than a beret then went off to run in a Half Ironman with over 2000 others the following day. Harry was a safety kayaker for the swim. Judy placed second in the 50-55 category

So everybody is blogging. I have daughters who blog., I have a grandson who blogs so maybe grandpa should blog too. Mostly I will tell tales of the exotic family history, with an occasional grouch on principle