Forwards and occasionally sidewards – everyday musings of life

This week was a masterclass in the Great British pastime of “Planning Large Projects While Being Moderately Exhausted.”

The Digital Sisyphus
Monday began with that dangerous, early-morning optimism that usually precedes a total technological collapse. By noon, after several “IT Improvements” had successfully robbed me of three hours of my life, I found myself yearning for the quiet dignity of an HB pencil. It turns out that modern progress is mostly just an elaborate way to make simple tasks take four times as long.

Renovation & Politics
The geopolitical situation in the Middle East has now officially reached my utility room. We are currently pivoting from an oil boiler to an air-source heat pump, mostly because the world is on fire and I’d quite like my underfloor heating to be on the right side of history. The Structural Arbiter (our builder) came over to check if our floors are suitable for such modern ambitions. They are, provided I am prepared to keep “worrying about the cost” as my primary personality trait.

The Forensic Fish
I spent Tuesday morning at Gastro Nicks learning how to fillet fish—a birthday gift from The Curator. As it turns out, filleting is less of a “culinary art” and more of a “gruesome forensic procedure.” You need a strong stomach and a genuine liking for seafood to enjoy seeing a Grey Mullet disassembled in front of you. I did, however, find that I appreciate a fish much more once I’ve personally won the battle against its ribcage.

The IT Helpdesk (Maternal Division)
The “Mum IT Support Line” opened promptly at 8:30 AM on Thursday. The challenge isn’t the tech itself; it’s the paralysing fear that clicking the wrong button on the TV remote might accidentally trigger a nuclear warhead or, worse, delete Coronation Street. We got there in the end, though I suspect “Cyber Security” is a concept that sounds to her like something from a Ridley Scott film.

Curry and Consequences
Saturday night took us to The Goa. The food was delicious, though we were seated in a “quiet lounge area,” which is usually code for “the place where they put the people who might talk too loudly about heat pumps, dogs and pastimes.” The Curator had one Margarita too many, but thankfully her good Scottish blood stepped in to handle the situation with the stoicism of a Highland Chieftain.

Sunday: The Time Thief
The clocks went forward this weekend, as did my heart rate when I realised I’d slept through my breakfast window. I headed to Table Tennis training and played exactly like a man who hadn’t eaten properly. I lost most of my games, but my serves were excellent!

“A moral victory with zero practical value.”

Spring apparently arrived, and was promptly evicted by a bitterly cold wind, sleet & hail. We ate cake to compensate. If the weather refuses to cooperate, the least we can do is eat our feelings.

Happy Monday!