My iPhone and me

I have an iPhone - I believe. My eldest son very generously decided that I needed to have one. And very good it is too. And I am most grateful. I wish you to know this.

There are all sorts of magical things including a location section whereby Graham knows where I am and I know where he is. Which is very useful should I fall over in London somewhere and need collecting and bringing home. Equally, it enables me to see where my eldest son is each day - and if he is in London, we are able to occasionally meet up. Perhaps I should be able track Richard and Heather in this way. I must talk to them about this.

Its accuracy is somewhat doubtful, however. When Graham was in Newcastle it appeared that he was wallowing about in the River Tyne, whereas he assured me he was in the best hotel in town.

But things are added to the iPhone without my knowledge. Take this week. An icon (I think this is the term) marked MAPS appeared from nowhere. I did not invite it. It just appeared. And it told me today that if I want to drive from my home in Aldborough Hatch to see my eldest son in sunny Dorset its would take me two hours and 36 minutes, but if I were to walk it would eat up a whole day and 14 hours.

Now I do not wish to enter into an argument with my iPhone, but whilst I accept that driving could be accomplished in two hours and 36 minutes (or even less if Richard is driving), I cannot for the life of me believe that I could walk the 107 miles in a day and 14 hours. A week, perhaps, or a month, a year maybe - depending on how many stops on the way.

The MAPS icon also tells me that I may travel by transport, but I would need to start at Barkingside Police Station. I will do not such thing!

I decided to try out the walking bit - and heard a lady telling me that I should turn right after a quarter of a mile onto the A12. But I have decided against doing so for it is dark and Socks wants his supper.

Help!

I have a problem. In my youth we all had autograph albums. They were the thing. First we asked our relatives to write something and sign, then our friends and later anyone who happened to be passing who could be cajoled into taking up the pen and writing.. My mother wrote two texts as follows:

I have no pain, dear mother now,

but such a terrible thirst.

Connect me to the brewery

and leave me till I burst.

Never put off till tomorrow that which should be done today.

The first is faintly amusing - and has amused when I have repeated it to friends. The second has been a guiding - almost thrusting - factor in my life.

It is why this morning I rose at shortly before 6am to see if I might resolve the problem I had last evening with my printer (which seems to have resolved itself after going onto Google and pasting in 'Filter failed' after the name of the printer - but I am not counting my chickens just yet and may have to call on Nicholas-acros-the-Road for his technical expertise). I also decided to perform a typing task for the Aldborough Hatch Defence Association that could easily wait until Monday.

Why? You tell me. Am I an obsessive compulsive fellow or just a bit dotty? On second thought, it might be best if you keep your ideas to yourself although if you feel like expressing some words of wisdom please do so.

Have a good day .. .

Last

This is positively the last rose of summer in my garden - with the morning dew at just before eight. I cut it for the porch.

It is a strange world . . .

Crocus are peeping through in my front garden - and it is still October! If they are out before Christmas I may go into hibernation for the rest of the winter.

I arrived home last evening at just after nine from an evening at St. Paul's Cathedral - where Melvyn Bragg spoke on the influence of William Tyndale on the English language and our way of life - to find that the area outside St. Peter's was roped off with three police cars and three or even four damaged cars - but no occupants, just police officers chatting away as if nothing had happened and they often roped off roadways in the dark for a bit of fun. It appeared that some of the cars had bumped into cars in driveways too. I took a couple of shots with my mobile - but clearly my hand was shaking so I will not put them here.

This morning's newspaper is filled with doom and gloom - Brexit, Trump, interest rates, murders . . .

It is a very strange world in which we live. I have two lots of washing on the go, but I feel like going back to bed for the rest of the day and hiding under the sheets in the hope that it might all go away. But no - I have a weekly shop to do!

Life is filled with oddities . . .

Life is filled with the usual and many surprises. 

Take today. I buy some of my spring bulbs and summer flowering corms from a well-known supplier in Lincolnshire with connections in Holland ( I know the latter because often the descriptions of the goods are in Dutch!). The courier arrived this morning with two Amarylis (Exotic Peacock) and three Fritillaria (Crown Imperial). All well and good, as they say (although who they are I am unsure!).

Enclosed was a Reward Voucher for £5 which is valued through to 30th June 2018, so I will keep it safely by me for when I order begonia and the like in the Spring.

But there is some text with a box which I may tick if I wish to take advantage of this - when sending the voucher with my next order. The text reads: ' Rather than use my £5 voucher, I would like to change it for a £2 voucher'.

Now I am all for a bargain. Indeed, I look out for 'three for the price of two' offers - although I fear I may one day fall for the 'two for the price of three' offer. But why would I want to change a £5 voucher for a £2 voucher?

I am mystified. The small print below gives some sort of explanation for if I wish to exchange the £5 for £2 I will receive cash to the value of £2.

No fear. £5 or nowt I say. For you cannot even buy a cup of coffee for two quid! Not in London, anyway.

Fun and games!

How about this for some fun and games!

On 16th October I wrote an email to a local estate agency who had best remain anonymous. It read as follows:

Last week and today letters have arrived clearly addressed to my youngest son, Richard Jeffries, at this house. I have taken the liberty to open both as I feared it might be something important of which I should let Richard be aware - as he is living far away in sunny Norway.

Both letters are from your esteemed company, 'Voted Best Estate Agency in London', so the letter tells Richard - which must be comforting for the lad.  You appear to be offering Richard what you term as an 'Exclusive offer - 50% discount - premium service for half the normal price’. You want to do an urgent valuation of the house and promise a quick sale.

I can only conclude that Richard, my youngest son (who is a professional photographer), is selling my house!

Are my other children aware of this? My eldest son is a senior partner in a national firm of solicitors, whilst my daughter is housing manager for a national charity. I very much doubt if they are privy to the fact that my youngest son is selling my house without telling them. But then it could be a fiendish plot by all three of them to have me whisked away at dead of night so that they can enjoy the spoils.

Perhaps I should call the police or dial 999 or call the see the Manager at the local Aldi, who seems a very pleasant chap who is keen to help the elderly (I am 84, I would have you know).

I am unaware of this. When do I move out? Where am I going to live? Will there be room for all my books? Is Socks, my 15-year-old faithful cat, coming with me? Shall I cancel the newspaper delivery? Will I be able to do my own ironing? Shall I bring the homemade soups and fresh fruit salads from the freezer?

I need to know. And Socks wants to know too for, like me, he will need to say farewell to his pals. And the garden needs to be tidied.

Please reply with some degree of urgency - and be quick for I may have gone already!

On 20th October the following email arrived from a very kind lady at the estate agency:

Thank you for your wonderful email, very clever, I enjoyed it immensely.

You make a very relevant point, which I need to address when putting together the wording of these letters in future.

As marketing methods go, sending letters addressed to ‘a name’ works too well to cease sending them completely.  We buy names, to add to the addresses that we wish to send our communications to, from a reputable data company who follow all the correct data protection rules.  It’s the wording of the letter that needs to change, to reflect the fact that the addressee might not be who we hoped he/she would be, and that is my responsibility.

Thank you for bringing this to my attention in a way that has really struck home.

I have taken your son’s name off our mailing list, and your address.  Maybe I should keep your address in our mailing list and add your name so you can see how I do with updating the wording of our marketing letters, that’s a scary thought!

Thank you for taking the time to reply to our letters, I hope this reply to you now doesn’t sound flippant.  I am taking what you have said seriously and I am sorry for the upset that our letters caused you.

I wrote back today, 17^th October:

Very many thanks for your great email. It is always good - and something of a relief - to meet someone in your elevated position who has a sense of humour. I am so pleased you enjoyed my email. You will not be surprised to learn that I quite enjoyed writing it!

Please be assured that I do not find you reply flippant and that you did not cause me any upset - although Socks was a little concerned, so much so that he has been calling to see all his little friends with the news that he might be moving. Indeed, to placate him I had to go to Pets at Home to buy some of his favourite gourmet food. He is more settled since your email arrived on the ether.

Take care - have a good day - keep smiling. I may put this correspondence onto my FACEBOOK page - with your company’s name edited out of course - and on my BLOG. If you like a laugh you might wish to tune into my BLOG which may be found at the following link:  http://justanessexlad.blogspot.co.uk/

But you may not have time in your very busy life for such frippery and that is perfectly understandable.

All good fun, as I am sure you will agree!

Christchurch Greyfriars

The final garden I visited on 17th October was Christchurch Greyfriars on the corner of Newgate Street and King Edward Street. It is a garden I know well, for I often sit there when attending services at St Paul's Cathedral which is nearby. 

The only problem is that it tends to be used as smoking place by staff from the nearby American Bank - and the waft of cigarette smoke vies with the scents from the gorgeously planted herb beds. Here is a bit of the history:

In the Middle Ages this was the site of a Franciscan monastery and today’s garden is on the site of the Franciscan Church of Greyfriars (1225). Following the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII, it was converted for use as a parish church. In 1429 Richard Whittington, Lord Mayor, founded a library here.

Numerous well-known people, including four queens, were buried in the old church, which was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666. A new church, designed by Sir Christopher Wren, was built between 1687 and 1704. The body of the Wren church was gutted by fire in 1940 during WW2 and only the west tower remains.

A major overhaul of the gardens took place in 2011, when the garden was stripped of all its planting. Major soil improvements were carried out, along with some hard-landscaping improvements. The new planting design was implemented to reflect current trends in garden planting and to increase biodiversity.

The garden now consists of heavily planted herbaceous borders and includes a variety of modern repeat-flowering shrub roses and climbers. The concept, although based on traditional herbaceous planting, incorporates a more modern interpretation within the planting palette.

The garden has a colour scheme of mainly blue, purple and white, with shots of deep crimson, silver and lime to bring it to life - all contained within low, clipped box hedging.

The wooden towers within the planting, which replicate the original church towers and host a variety of climbing plants.