Electronic memories

I saw some old friends in Paris a couple of weeks ago and asked to see photos of their children, but being octogenarians and frail, they don't do electronic, and they have no photos.  From a shared holiday, we have photos of us and their children in the 1970s, and of their mother, and of their father in 1968.  It bothered me to lose a similar memory, and I'm glad to see that, Gillian Rose, an Open University lecturer has brought this up as a problem to consider within the social sciences.

The Open University - Social Sciences

The Open University - Social Sciences Here is the Friday Thinker: Almost everyone owns at least a few family photographs, whether pasted into albums or saved on computer hard drives. Over the past decade, more and more of our photos have become digital. But has the shift to digital images changed what we do with our family snaps and how we feel about them? Why might this matter to social scientists?

A digital divide separates my old friends from visual and tangible memories of the last ten years.

A frog's arrival

After three years trying to get my tadpoles big enough to survive, each year losing some to too much sun, or stagnant water, at last I have a frog.

Stories of middle-aged women

"As a woman of 50, I’m surrounded by my contemporaries and what women of that age go through: parental loss, cancer, dealing with Alzheimer’s, children growing up. All these issues that are here in our lives and they’re invisible."

thus spake Samantha Bond recently, here, when bemoaning the lack of stories of middle-aged women.

Such am I.  I and my peers are coping with aging relatives, taking on legal powers of attorney, mourning those we are losing alive to Alzheimer's, and vicariously taking on the troubles of our grown-up children.  Our children may be living the dreams we once had: emigrating, studying fantastic university courses.  Or they may be worrying us with troubled relationships, dangerous driving, failing exams, not working. 

Is there not drama in such lives?  Apparently not, and hence Bond's moan.  There are few theatre, film or stage productions of the lives of people like me.  Despite the bulk of theatre audiences being made up of middle-aged women, despite the novels written by and for us, there are not the productions, and hence there are not the roles for the actresses like Bond. 

Middle-aged women are like the main supporting wall of a house, central and sustaining, but hidden.

Local jubilee

It's our Queen's jubilee. The United Kingdom is going red, white and blue today, a day to be proud of being English, or Welsh, or Scottish, or a member of the Commonwealth.  The whole country is having a big party.  In Aylesbury old town, we've already had our Jubilee lunch, shared between local residents and anyone who goes to one of the town centre churches. A child was giving out little plastic Union Jacks that make flapping clacking sounds, and the band 'God save the Queen' in a modern fashion.  Then a few minutes later, a black woman and I together waved our flags and sang it again to the traditional tune.
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us
God save the Queen

Our local politician tweeted when he & @marymaryb89 judged our neighbour Margaret's "as best decorated mobility scooter at #aylesbury #StMarys jubilee party!"
The atmosphere is wonderful. Despite the damp and drizzle, we're all happy and gay and proud of being part of the UK or the Commonwealth. Our Queen has been serving us for 60 years and we're all partying in celebration. Thank you to our Queen Elizabeth.

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Half my myopia sorted: June 2012

My two eyes have very different focal lengths - is that the right term?  One is around -1/2 dioptre but the other is -4 dioptres.  This has advantages in that I can read very small print with one eye, like the ingredients on tins and the warnings on medical leaflets, and I can see well enough to drive with the other eye.  However, the disadvantages are that only one eye is working at a time, the two eyes are quite imbalanced and if I want to work on the computer and read a document at the same time (like when I'm marking OU assignments or copy-typing an historical diary) then I need to swap at least two pairs if not three pairs of glasses.  Vari-focals don't work because I have to throw my head back to see through the short sighted bit at the bottom and in the office everyone seems to fix their screens high up which makes the neck ache even more!

I had a problem that glasses didn't solve - exacerbated it even - and I was not going to go down the irreversible route of surgery.

But then I read of ortho-keratic lenses, discovered someone who could prescribe and fit them, and now have one lens that I wear every night in the very myopic eye.  It's wonderful.  In the morning, I look out of my bedroom window and can see into the distance with both eyes - I usen't to be able to do that.  When I sit at meetings, I can see the person at the end of the table and don't need to put on glasses to read the papers in front of me. It's wonderful.

But it's temporary.  If you don't like it, don't like wearing the lens at night, can't see well enough, you can go back to your body's choice of focus by simply no longer wearing the lens.  Or if you lose the b* lens, you go back.  And I dropped my lens the other night.  I heard it hit the wood of the dressing table, thought it had slipped between a piece of china and a tissue, but it simply disappeared.  I searched for 15 minutes before I was too tired and fed up to look any more and went to bed.  Husband and I searched in the morning, but it was not to be found, so I had to ring the optometrist and order a new one (£50).  In the meantime, my eye has been reverting to its normal -4 dioptres myopia and I can't see the detail of the blossom outside my bedroom window, nor the face of the person at the end of the table at yesterday's meeting.  The lens arrived today, and tomorrow I'll be able to see again as I want to.
2018: I found the missing lens! It had dropped into an open envelope propped up at the front of an open drawer of the dressing table.