Carolyn's Blog

As we all wonder what that gurgling noise is and realise that it is the sound of our pensions and RRSPs circling the drain I would just like to say that though I am not quite yet in the old folks home with Methuselah I am old enough to remember several influenza epidemics and yes me and my family did get sick, but we survived; several economic meltdowns and yes times were tough but we survived; and worldwide fears that we were on the brink of annihilation because of war and wars did happen around the world (still do) but we survived.

This taught me a few things: wash your hands a lot and even if you do that you might still get sick; when times are tough economically I can squeeze a dollar until it squeaks; and if the idiots in charge are sabre rattling yet again there is b*gger all we can do about it and worrying about not being able to afford a nuclear bunker under the house like the Swiss have is pointless anyway. When all the Swiss and Dubya and other politicians crawl back out of those holes in the ground 50 years later the only living things will be the descendants of cockroaches and Twinkies ^TM- I mean the ultra-sweet cake thingies and not the other meaning of the word ;o) and who wants to be there for that?

Having told you all about my nettle wine attempt it reminded me of a couple of other 'Carolyn Episodes'.

Moving Furniture

When our eldest sons were little during one of those economic downturns the only decent paying job Alan could get in his field was about 6 hours away so he would be gone from the house for 3 weeks at a time. I should explain that our house at that time was built in 1902, had no central heating and all I had was a coal fire in the living room*. I know it is cold here in Canada, I have lived in Winnipeg, I understand cold, but there is nothing quite like the cold damp that exists in a non-heated, non-insulated old house in Essex, England. Believe me, it's cold.

One evening I was watching a TV show about architecture and some bloke had built an 'upside down house'. The bedrooms were downstairs and the living rooms upstairs. 'Brilliant idea! Heat rises!' I thought. 'Light the fire downstairs and keep it going, upstairs always seemed hotter anyway so that's where we spend the day; have the bedroom downstairs, let the fire go out overnight but the room will be warm and me and the kids can snuggle under the covers.'

I managed to get the bedroom furniture downstairs fairly easily; our bed was only 4 feet wide and when Alan was away the kids were with me at night. Getting the sofa upstairs was OK, it was sectional, the TV was a bit heavy - I managed - but it was moving the sideboard (dresser?) that caused me a bit of a problem. I placed both boys at the top of the fairly narrow (2 foot 8 inches wide) staircase and started to maneuver it up, then climbed over it to pull it for the last little bit. Was going great and then it slipped and wedged firmly completely blocking the stairwell. We were upstairs. The phone was downstairs. The kitchen and bathroom, downstairs. Alan would not be home for 2 weeks. I sat on the top stair with my elbows on my knees and my hands cupping my chin and with my sons either side of me following suit. I sighed, they sighed. Should I try to attract someone from the window and admit I had trapped us all upstairs? Eventually (after about 5 hours) I figured out how to inch it bit by bit into a better position and then suddenly it flew down the stairs and hit the wall. I decided that perhaps it was not such a brilliant idea after all and put everything back. Unfortunately the kids told their dad when he came home. Little tell-tales.

Legs Akimbo

The same house - originally it had an outside loo but we had a bathroom built on at the back. Heated by a single bar heater located quite high up on the wall half over the loo and half over the tap end of the bath. Unfortunately because of the cold and damp it meant that the steam from bathwater rusted out the element in the bar heater. So I had to replace it. I went into town and bought a replacement element, turned off the electricity and with Alan's tool kit by my feet climbed up to unscrew the existing rusty element and put in the new one. As some of you know I am five feet tall. The only way I could reach the heater was to stand with one foot on the loo seat and the other on the edge of the bath and stretch up on tiptoes, screwdriver in hand and start work. I had placed a glass jar that we kept spare screws and bits and pieces in on the cistern (the bit with the water in that flushes the loo, not sure what it is called here). I was doing pretty well all things considered. Both sons were watching from the other end of the bathroom. Then suddenly, and to this day I have no idea why, one foot kind of slipped, the loo seat and lid went left, the jar on the cistern jumped (I swear it jumped of its own accord) down the toilet and smashed, my left foot went after it and into the beginning of the U-bend, my right foot slipped off the edge of the bathtub and into the bath itself which made for quite a wide legged stance when you only have little legs. I was stuck and bleeding because I had cut my left foot on the glass down the loo. The boys were very amused. (insert rude un-loving-motherly comments here). Eventually I managed to lower my bum onto the edge of the bath, pull my left foot out of the toilet and recover. I waited for Alan to come home to fix the heater.

* I was a dab hand at making newspaper logs/fire starters. You roll up two pages of newsprint and then braid them into logs, I used to go to the corner shop and buy a bag of coal and carry it on my shoulder whilst also pushing a pushchair (stroller) with Matt in it and Jonathan holding on to the handle. My sister Sue used to come and stay with me back in those days and remembers doing that and how cold it was. No wonder she spends every vacation in hot countries :o)

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