Friday, 13 October 2006

Its Friday - its 5 to 5 - and its CRACKERJACK !

Any UK readers born in the 50s will know the feeling ...
no more school until Monday, sat in front of the telly with a plate of toast and a mug of tea.

Daft grown up men doing silly things with soda fountains and kids still in their school uniforms trying to win a Crackerjack pencil by balancing a cabbage on their head ... yes you know what I am talking about.

(EDIT: That link does not want to work. Try googling 'Crackerjack childrens tv' and follow the link to 'whirligig-tv'. If that doesn't work, pretend.)

Its that Friday afternoon feeling, I have done all the week's work* and I still have some relatively pain-free energy left for 'fun' - stuff I want to do, rather than having to save all my energy for 'work'. So I can't resist blogging. Again, courtesy of the facilities of my big bed and six pillows - no Lily, not "...inducing of a double chin...", but essential support - two at my back, one under each arm, one under my knees and one under the laptop.

Comments on my last post Ode to my OT were inspirational, leading me to vent off steam in a long rant about access to a socially inclusive life via wheelchairs, wheelchair accessible vehicles, accessible accommodation and a socially inclusive life to include the right to sit in one's own garden, even have a garden, if that is what one wants, and what one wants to do.

Also, in response to comments, I have been pondering provison in other countries and comparing state funded provision in the UK with USA and Germany, and inviting comments on life in those countries, from other bloggers. Does state provision for accommodation and equipment necessary for disabilities rule whether we have a choice where we live - in the town/city or in the countryside far away from necessary facilities ?

* This week's work has been the mammoth task of completing my Application to Motability for my next leased vehicle and applying via Motability to central government funding for adapatations to make a vehicle wheelchair accessible. The Application envelope weighed a ton (not a tonne), as my application consisted of a hand completed 36 page printed form, my 11 typed pages of additional information, 5 pages of illustrative photocopied photographs, 14 pages of explanation and evidence of disability, specification of wheelchair, proof of income (and bank statements), and proof of expenditure and colour of my nail polish this weekend.

It felt such an important occasion that instead of my home help doing the ironing this morning, when she arrived I dragged her off in my WAV to the market town Post Office to weigh and post the envelope with due ceremony.

I am so glad I did venture out - it is not often I am out and about in public at 10 am - as the twice-monthly farmers' market graced the market place in front of the town hall. As my home help was with me and available to carry stuff for me, I was able to buy: a pot of honey garnered five miles away, beeswax furniture wax from local beehives, autumn bedding plants for the display by the door to my cottage, good proper bread, good proper bacon (from 'Pampered Pigs') and half a dozen Egremont Russet apples.

It was a lovely autumn morning, gentle sun through light cloud, leaves just turning, people sauntering around with time to stop to chat or exchange a smile, the farmers' market very much a social occasion, much like 'marketing' must have been in the old days of the ' Mapp and Lucia' stories by E F Benson.

But without my WAV I would have had to live in this town, with the drug pushers and knife wielders, perhaps next door to the harassers of elderly people (such as my home help's other client), amid the traffic noise and fumes, in this 'Interesting Georgian' country town in Dorset.


Blogger Charlesdawson said...

Farmer's markets are brilliant; there are also sometimes, French markets, although they are not well advertised.

In our loca one, there is a man selling the most scrumptious cheese scones (made by his wife) that I have ever tasted.

Venison sausages, which are also available, sounds a bit OTT, though.

Good luck with your application.

Friday, 13 October 2006 at 20:24:00 BST  
Blogger Sally's Life said...

Yes, he brought his wife's scones; cheese, fruit, stacks of them, all resisted to avoid the autumn 'spread' around my waistline.

Legendary in this Georgian town (and maybe yours) is the French man on his bicycle strung with proper strings of onions, Breton stripped jersey (Jersey ?!) and beret - apparently he comes over on the ferry !

Saturday, 14 October 2006 at 10:49:00 BST  
Blogger Charlesdawson said...

Now that I've never seen....I bet he dresses in a pinstripe suit and bowler when he's off duty and les anglais aren't watching!

Saturday, 14 October 2006 at 14:06:00 BST  
Blogger Sally's Life said...

Oh, you Cynic, you !
And that from a Gentleman attired as above !!
(Sally lifts her skirts and sweeps out of the room to assignation with Gaelic garlic seller).

Saturday, 14 October 2006 at 15:30:00 BST  
Blogger Sally's Life said...

Fans of Charles Dawson's blog may be interested to know that when he described being sat on a bridge enjoying the weather like a duck, we are talking about the same little Dorset town. It is a small world in Blogger Land.

Saturday, 14 October 2006 at 16:21:00 BST  
Blogger Lily said...

Ooh I remember Crackerjack! (CRACKERJACK!!!!!) Happy innocent days...even further back I remember (probably incorrectly) Picture Book on Monday, Andy Pandy on a Tuesday, Bill and Ben on a Wednesday (did you know they're back in colour, no strings?!), Rag Tag and Bobtail (my favourite)on a Thursday and The Woodentops on a Friday. Even all those years ago, mums were plonking children in front of the telly while they did their own thing. Of course in those days, children's TV was only on for a short time and for most of the day all you got was the test card and awful music.

Tuesday, 17 October 2006 at 06:32:00 BST  
Blogger BloggingMone said...

Sally, I know this is very much off topic, but I found your comment on my "don't let the bed bugs bite you" post a bit too late. I only want to let you know that - yes, pillows do make noise!

Tuesday, 17 October 2006 at 15:05:00 BST  
Blogger Sally's Life said...

Oh I had forgotten Rag, Tag and bobtail ! Aarh. My mother did not such much plonk me as loose me. We didn't have a telly until I was seven, so I would just walk into neighbour's houses (all open in those far off days) and be found mesmerised by the potter's wheel.

Tuesday, 17 October 2006 at 22:49:00 BST  
Blogger Sally's Life said...

Thank you BM, I was beginning to think I was the only one in the world. Imagine the scene in the linen department of the department store; not only is she in a wheelchair, but she insists on listening to the pillows !

Tuesday, 17 October 2006 at 22:53:00 BST  

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