Letter to the London Borough of Redbridge

I wrote the following letter today and will post it on Thursday. I felt much better after typing it and trust that Ms Strutt has a sense of humour. With her job title she will need one!

Sharon Strutt

Strategic Head of Delivery

Directorate of Place

London Borough of Redbridge

Lynton House

255 – 259 High Road

ILFORD

Essex IG1 1NY

Dear Ms Strutt,

Many thanks for two letters received in the post today at thisbeen my home since 1962 – and very happy I am to live here, for Aldborough Hatch is a pleasant place and often referred to as the ‘Village in the Suburbs” (which so happens to be the sub-title of my published book Aldborough Hatch – The Village in  the Suburbs – A History, which, sadly, is now out of print but I did send half-a-dozen copies to the Chief Librarian so you may be able to borrow a copy if you belong to the Ilford Central Library. I sent them free of charge because the Librarian claimed they had no money to buy books anymore, which seemed to me to be a pity for a library without new books – and well-written ones like mine – is not much of a library . . . but I digress, for which I apologise!).

The two letters regarding the Conservation Forum on 6th December were correctly addressed to this house but there were problems with the names of the addressees.

My name is Ron Jeffries – not Jefferies. You will note that I have italicised and made bold the central ‘e’ for this is incorrect. I pay my Council Tax as Jeffries, so please be the kindly lady that I am sure you are and have this corrected for it jars my senses and upsets Socks, my cat, who is the only other resident – or was when I last checked.

You see my three children have fled the nest and my dear wife now resides in heaven – I have the latter on the good authority of the many Vicars I have seen off here at St. Peter’s Church, where I joined the choir in 1944 at the age of eleven (which will help you, with the aid of a calculator, to work out my age, if you are so minded, of course, and you may well be too busy delivering so I will not be in the least offended if you do not wish do so – and you would be the loser).

The second letter gave the addressee as Mr Blake. Now I would want you to know that we (Socks and me that is) have no Mr Blake living here. Honest! We have checked. In fact, my extensive research – going back in history to the time in the 1930s when these houses were built – reveals that no Mr Blake has ever lived here. Not ever! Never!

In the past – on more occasions than I remember – I have advised the Planning Department at the Town Hall that Mr Blake does not live here – all to no avail. I would hazard a guess that they were far too busy granting retrospective planning applications for beds-in-sheds and garages-without-doors-big-enough-to-allow-a-car-to-enter-but-large-enough-to-house-a-family-of-six-two-cats-and-a-parrot-together-with-Grandma-when-she-comes-to-stay.

Be that as it may, for you are not in that Department (and probably very grateful for that, I will bet!) and cannot be held responsible for the misdemeanours of others, but are ensconced down the road at Sunny Lynton House (opposite the site of the old Ilford Palais where the lads about town used to strut their stuff, but not me I would have you know. My Mum would not allow me to go out at nights until I was of voting age!).

And being the Strategic Head of Delivery in the Directorate of Place, you will know how to rectify this gross error (and I must add that your job title arouses such admiration that I have come all over with a quiver! Do you have a van or are all your deliveries on foot? If the former, I trust it is road-worthy. If the latter, I suggest you hold a sit-in outside the CEO’s office till they give you suitable transport for we cannot have you lugging packages all around the town! No way, Hosea!).

Thank you for staying with me till the end of this missive. Have a coffee, a cup of Earl Grey or a bowl of hot, nourishing soup (I recommend Green Pea and Mint from Aldi, although Mr Sainsbury does a delicious range but they are far too costly for an old pensioner like me!). Take care and have a good day. And whatever you do, don’t let them get you down, for they will try!

Yours sincerely

Ron Jeffries

PS: Socks sends his regards. He is out moussing at present. We hope you like the card of Fairlop Waters.

My most embarrassing moment occurred today!

If I am ever asked to say what was my most embarrassing moment, it happened today at about 12.50pm.

I went to Ilford and London to do some Christmas shopping. Waterstones for books and a book token and somewhere else for a token but I will not name the shop or it will give the game away! Then to St. Paul's Cathedral where their shop has some great stuff. Having made my purchases, I decided to spend a few minutes in the Cathedral - being a Friend of St. Paul's means I have free entry at anytime. I have only visited once as a tourist - with my step-grandson and his girl friend. I wanted to read the bill boards for the Great Fire of London 350th anniversary - which I did. As I passed under the Dome, an announcement was made that the Eucharist would be celebrated in 10 minutes - so I decided to sit quietly and wait for the service to begin.

All went well - for I find a great sense of peace in that massive space - until I rose to move forward to take the sacrament. At that point my mobile went off!

Now if you have heard my new iPhone ring you will know that this is no ordinary sound - but something resembling a brass band backed by a 70 strong symphony orchestra and the Huddersfield Choral Society in full throttle.

Need I say more. Fortunately the celebrant was not one of the normal cathedral clergy so the incident will not have been noticed by those who smile at me and shake my hand.

The shame! The humiliation! But somehow I had the feeling that Yvonne had a good chuckle at my discomfort. And if that is so, I do not mind all that much after all!

The last straw!

Richard, my youngest son, has been home for a long weekend from Norway. 

Watching me drink my Berocca (health supplement he recommended I take and I have done so every day since he told me) through a drinking straw, Richard said that I should recycle the straws I use personally. 

Is that a good thing, I ask myself? 

Advice would be appreciated from my followers. 

He said I should rinse them through in hot water and hang them out to dry! 

I try to do as I am advised by those who know best - but is this the last straw?

Didn't we have a lovely day the day we went to Bransgore!

A day trip to Dorset! Heather drove Richard (home from Norway), Marlon and me to Bransgore to meet with Graham, Danielle, Finlay and Fergus - and we had coffee with Lynne and Terry too. Lunch was at the Noisy Lobster where the Fish and Chips was some of the best - if not the best - I have ever tasted and watching Fergus each mussels was just amazing. Richard tried a few but Heather said a point blank NO THANK YOU! How fortunate I am to have such a wonderfully supportive family who - in their busy lives - gave me a day I will treasure for ever. Blessed indeed!

Advent approaches and Black Friday looms!

Next Sunday evening Richard and I are attending the Advent Procession at St. Paul's Cathedral in London. Richard is home from Norway for the weekend and when I mentioned this he readily agreed to join me. Last year's Procession included a reading by John Betjeman which sticks in my memory. I have found it on Google and pass it on as we approach the festive season. Enjoy as Black Friday looms!

Advent 1955

The Advent wind begins to stir
With sea-like sounds in our Scotch fir,
It’s dark at breakfast, dark at tea,
And in between we only see
Clouds hurrying across the sky
And rain-wet roads the wind blows dry
And branches bending to the gale
Against great skies all silver pale
The world seems travelling into space,
And travelling at a faster pace
Than in the leisured summer weather
When we and it sit out together,
For now we feel the world spin round
On some momentous journey bound –
Journey to what? to whom? to where?
The Advent bells call out ‘Prepare,
Your world is journeying to the birth
Of God made Man for us on earth.’

And how, in fact, do we prepare
The great day that waits us there –
For the twenty-fifth day of December,
The birth of Christ? For some it means
An interchange of hunting scenes
On coloured cards, And I remember
Last year I sent out twenty yards,
Laid end to end, of Christmas cards
To people that I scarcely know –
They’d sent a card to me, and so
I had to send one back. Oh dear!
Is this a form of Christmas cheer?
Or is it, which is less surprising,
My pride gone in for advertising?
The only cards that really count
Are that extremely small amount
From real friends who keep in touch
And are not rich but love us much
Some ways indeed are very odd
By which we hail the birth of God.

We raise the price of things in shops,
We give plain boxes fancy tops
And lines which traders cannot sell
Thus parcell’d go extremely well
We dole out bribes we call a present
To those to whom we must be pleasant
For business reasons. Our defence is
These bribes are charged against expenses
And bring relief in Income Tax
Enough of these unworthy cracks!
‘The time draws near the birth of Christ’.
A present that cannot be priced
Given two thousand years ago
Yet if God had not given so
He still would be a distant stranger
And not the Baby in the manger.

John Betjeman (1906-1984)

I have been told off!

I have had a serious telling-off today. Indeed, this is the second telling-off from the same source. The first occurred about ten days ago when my GP Surgery telephoned to book an appointment for my annual breathing test. Having fixed it for today at 10am, I asked if I might also have my ‘flu injection?

There was a sharp intake of breath before the lady asked me why I had not had this by now for it is November, you know, and you could catch influenza and be very ill! I agreed and apologised, but I am unsure if my apology was accepted for the call ended abruptly.

Arriving on time, the nurse asked me to show her my inhalers – of which I have three different ones. Show me how you use them and when, cajoled the nurse who, it must be said was charming up to this point. But then things went badly, oh so badly, downhill.

It seems that I have been using inhaler one correctly first thing in the morning, but the use of inhaler two at the same time was totally and utterly wrong, wrong, wrong! And to add insult to injury, my use of inhaler three was so wrong as to be worthy of a custodial sentence with hard labour!

Do you not read the instructions on the prescription, asked the nurse in matriarchal tones of the like that only matriarchs use? Here I blubbered and that was a mistake of major proportions. Read the packet, said the matriarch, and I promised to do so, three times daily if needed.

The second inhaler is to be used twice before I retire for the night. Inhaler three may be used up to four times a day as needed – and twice each time it was so needed. Matriarch explained that such occasions might be when I have walked upstairs and feel a bit puffed or when I have undertaken a strenuous gallop along the high street to catch a bus. I nodded I  understanding.

Breathing test followed. It was with tremendous relief that I learned that I had blown into the tube three times and each blow was an improvement on the last (for I did try very hard to please as I did not want to be kept behind after surgery closed).

Blood pressure was good whilst my answers to ten questions resulted in a score of four – anything below eight being acceptable, I was told. Then ten questions ranged from how often do I cough to whether or not I do all the household chores myself? It was the latter where I nearly came a cropper, for I admitted that whilst I cook, wash-up, wash my clothes, clean the brass, copper and silver, and do some ironing, Daphne visits on Fridays for three hours of domesticity. Do you hoover? I admitted to left that to Daphne – this produced a slight smile on the lips but it was gone before I could be certain sure. My admission that my daughter calls to change my duvet resulted in a curt comment that it was now time for the ’flu injection.

I may be wrong here but I seem to recall that prior to injections, a dab of antiseptic and something to dull the skin is usually applied, but today it was Tally ho! Here we go! And a big plunge!

As I restored my clothing I was handed a form to take to King George Hospital for a blood test. I again sensed a feeling of glee as I was told that this would be a starving test – nothing to eat after 10pm and sips of water only until I have joined the throng at KGH at 7am – where I am sure that they do dab your arm first!

Have you used your Emergency Kit, called the nurse as I attempted to escape? I had – so I was given a prescription for another one and told that if there is an emergency I must let them know after it has passed (presumably assuming that I survive!) - and I promised to do so without fail.

Over the road to the chemist, then a bus to Ilford, buying fresh fruit for me and treats for Socks, and home on the bus to prove that I can still walk!