Disconnected

Wasn't me. I didn't go near the Admin Centre anytime later than 1700 UTC yesterday.

It is kind of funny though. I live in fear of doing something similar to our own company's M365 set up every time I go near the MS Admin portal. It's almost reassuring that the Microsoft Admin Centres are so damned tangled and convoluted that even they can get it catastrophically wrong.

So, I've woken up and logged into work this morning to find that both Outlook and Copilot went offline around 1800 UTC last night, and remain offline so far this morning.

I feel strangely bereft, but refreshingly disconnected. 

Turn to Mud

The fire in the fallen leaves
has turned to mud
Cold rain drifts heavy
from a leaden sky
the ghost of Amber Light
lies forgotten

More soup

I've made too many impulse purchases this month. Not that any of them will break the bank, but they were unplanned. I'm not, generally, an impulsive character. Lacking in occasional self control, perhaps, but not impulsive.

Cheapest were a couple of books. As in real books, with covers, whereas most of my "book" purchases these days are of the digital kind.

For reasons I don't entirely fathom, Louise Glück has been preying on my mind. Possibly because I recently, finally, managed to read my way through a whole translation of the Odyssey. That didn't turn out as expected. Growing up I was schooled on extracts from Homer and the Greek myths. 

I'm slowly inching my way through my copy of Meadowlands. It sits on the corner of my desk. Until it arrived in the post last week, the first of my three impulsive purchases, I was only really familiar with Quiet Evening, the closing lines of which I found particularly haunting. They've hung with me. I knew she'd written it in parallel with the story of The Odyssey; I just didn't expect the connection to be so visceral or human.

I read The Odyssey. I thought I liked these people. Turns out, apparently, I don't.

I'm partway now through Meadowlands. And now, I think, I'm beginning to know them.

Caught on a poetry hook, I was sat on the boat late Saturday night rewriting lyrics to a song I'm working on. With everybody else, including the dog, asleep, I wanted something other than Glück just to break my mind away from what I was doing for a moment.

Found a poem by Elizabeth Bishop. I can't now actually remember which one, although I could doubtless look it up in my browser's history. In any case, the second of my impulse purchases, a second real-life book, turned up in the post yesterday, and Elizabeth Bishop's "Poems" now sits on the corner of my desk with Glück waiting for me to dip in. I haven't yet. Though will. Keep getting drawn back to Meadowlands for the moment.

The third and final of my impulse purchases was a new Zhik drysuit. Front zipping with neoprene seals and fabric boots, the style I prefer. I've managed without one through the past few winters, since my previous Gul drysuit began to leak down the back of the leg. The only thing worse than not having a drysuit in winter is having a drysuit that doesn't stay dry.

It also arrived in the post yesterday. We'll find out on Sunday if it does its job. Forecast is rain and gusts of up to 27 knots. I'm racing the GP14 in the morning with Amanda, then in the afternoon with Alex.

The photo at the top bears no relationship to any of this. It's merely yesterday's lunch.

the little things that annoy me

leaving the butter
out on the side
teaspoons
unwashed and abandoned
cellophane seals to pots and bottles removed
then discarded anywhere but the bin
dirty laundry on the kitchen floor
coats hung on the end of the banister
anything just abandoned in the hall
my dog not being able
to shut the door behind herself
after she enters a room
lights left on in the room after
you have left it
the lid left off
the toothpaste tube
pots of hummus
sold without lids
accountancy
a wet seat
being told to play it slower
half empty cups of tea discarded
and forgotten plates
not cleared
of unfinished food
tinsel

brittle dreams

Brittle dreams of Madison
Wandering the Sea of Rust
She takes Jimmy apart
Missing the whisper of people past
The bustle of souls
Ghosts of the dance long over
There is no magic in the world
There never was
Even as the sun flashed green
No magic in the world at all

after C. Robert Cargill’s Sea of Rust.
From trying to understand why Brittle so completely got under my skin.

Petrella: marina weekend

Spent the weekend in Plymouth with Nikki, Lottie and Dad. Had originally harboured half an ambition for a trip out to Fowey and back, but Nik is now recovered enough from her surgery that she felt up to climbing aboard with the help of a step ladder, but far from able yet to scramble down into a dinghy to tender ashore.

It's only been just over three weeks, so I guess that's fair enough. The decision was made to remain in the marina.

In any case, the weekend was calm, with next to no wind, heavy shows on Saturday, and thick fog just offshore on Sunday morning. The showers were unexpected, the fog on Sunday I'd guessed was a likely risk. Either way, it wasn't exactly good sailing weather so I didn't feel like I was missing out on much.

So I swapped the sailing for walks around the Barbican with Lottie. And I can't say I didn't enjoy myself. Apparently, we clocked 11333 steps together by end of Saturday. My legs certainly felt it Sunday morning.

The boat is keeping well, despite lack of use. There is a slight leak in the aft starboard window that we haven't been able to pin down or solve, and the sealed lid to the fresh water tank needs re-sealing. She's due for a lift out 12th January, so I think our sailing season is done. All that's left is to find a calm day over the Christmas break to go down and remove the sails.

It's been a bit of a dud as far as the sailing season has gone. Too many other distractions getting in the way, not to mention both Dad and Nik having various joints replaced. Joint replacements aside though, there comes a point where the distractions start to feel like excuses.

Note to self: really must do better next year.

U2: We were once the greatest show on earth

I tend not to enjoy long interviews with rock stars and the famous. My instinct is to expect them to be dull and obvious, self indulgent. Though in that last one respect, I wonder who am I to criticise. I do enjoy interviews and articles concerning artists I'm not familiar with; I've found some great music that way.

On the other hand, I'll read anything on a slow Friday, and despite myself, I found I actually enjoyed the Alexis Petridis interview with U2 in the Guardian this morning.

www.theguardian.com/.../...and-their-undimmed-faith-in-humanity

U2 was one of the bands I grew up with. I remember the conversation at school being you can either like U2 or you can like the Stranglers. I loved both.

But over the years, the band and I drew apart. I rarely listen to them these days, and don't like much of what they've created over the last twenty years or more.

But this interview left me with a wry smile on my face, and the feeling that perhaps, after all, I'll go back for another look sometime.


The photo at the top has no significance to the link. It was taken on an August day in 2003 at Polpeor Cove on the Lizard, on a family camping trip to Cornwall. The old lifeboat station, abandoned in 1961 when the RNLI moved operations on the Lizard to the more accessible Kilcobben Cove, is apparently the most southerly building on mainland Britain.

The end of the slip is visible on the right of the photo. The station was eventually abandoned because it was both dangerous to launch (three crew members lost their lives in 1866 when the lifeboat was washed onto the rocks and broken up during an exercise) and difficult to recover.

Lines had to be rowed out and wrapped around a natural rock pillar out in the sea to swing the boat around so its stern faced the land, then a mechanical winch located at the back of the station was then used to haul the vessel slowly backward out of the water.

I was pretty much ignorant of this back in 2003. I was still flying gliders, my eye more on the sky than it was on the sea, and hadn't yet found my way back to boats. But I remember being intrigued by the almost derelict building. It was a good holiday.

In all the years since, I've so far only sailed past there once, heading west.

Petrella: becoming variable 3 or less later

Heading down to the boat tomorrow with Dad. Nikki is coming with us, so the decision is already taken not to sail. Looking at the forecast, we're not missing much excitement out there anyway.

There are things I need to check regardless that give a purpose to the trip other than a simple escape; to run the engine up, make sure the aft starboard cabin window isn't leaking (I think it is, but the guy I asked to look at having another go at resealing it for me said it wasn't) and makes sure there's no fresh water on the galley worksurface. On our last trip down a few weeks ago, it was inexplicably puddling and we couldn't work out why. 

The dehumidifier is the main culprit. It should drain to the galley sink, but if for some reason the pipe wasn't led there last time we tidied up to leave, or it got knocked out of place since, that would explain it.

On which note, the lid to the main water tank under the port pilot berth needs resealing, but that's a job I'm going to save for winter, if only to give myself something to do. It's not urgent, as long as we don't overfill the tank. Petrella is scheduled to come out of the water for four weeks from mid January for some much needed TLC. I might do it then.

As we're not sailing, and Nikki's not yet up to much walking (though she is healing rapidly) I'll likely take Lottie down to the boat with us, to give me an excuse for a walk. 

2019

For all these fragile, broken, transient things
Hanging by the thread of our chancing dreams
Life is desperate poetry
Learning to dance on our puppet strings

The Old Red Flag was never my hymn
I just wanted to be on a side that was kind
An idea I could follow with my heart
Not just with my pocket or with my mind

Just because you wouldn't vote with me
Doesn't make you right this time
Anxious days and troubled times
Don't always corral compliant minds

Making promises that we couldn't keep
Led to such a glorious defeat
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Now our Boris will sock it to ya

Jamie says the good guys won
I beg to differ, though hope I'm wrong
And now the 31st of January's not so far away
I guess we'll see

So they stacked them high
To sell us out cheap
And in austerity the years ground by
As the shine rubbed off the glory of defeat

alhamdulillah

Just when I think I've lost faith in American politics, they go and do something like this

www.theguardian.com/.../abdul-el-sayed-mike-rogers-michigan-senate

The leading photo actually has little to nothing to do with the link. It's a photo of the antique "Rules of Working" that hung on the wall of our old offices in Chalford, an echo back to when the building was actually a working mill in the 1800's.

But it does remind me that, however bleak, the general trend of humanity is actually to improve.

amber light

Leaves fall like paper tears
A regret of summer gone
Rust flecks the air, twisted by breeze
A season of turning, long nights to come

Low light slants through the naked trees
Amber light soft with the ghost of warmth
Muddy paws now cross the kitchen floor
And walks are brisk to keep out the chill

SCSC: Sunday racing; autumn

Weather has definitely taken a turn for the autumnal. Leaves are now more a carpet in the street than a cloak on the branches of the trees. But they're still fresh fallen enough to retain a certain amber crispness that lends itself well to the autumn light.

Driving home from the gig at the Railway Tavernon Saturday night was through thick fog. Fireworks are already going off in anticipation of November 5th.

There's definitely a chill in the wind. Sunday was the first day since spring I wore a wetsuit on the lake. Three races in the GP14, two in the morning with Amanda, one in the afternoon with Alex. 

The start of the first race was a bit of a disgrace; I was about thirty seconds late to the line and at the wrong end. But our sailing then made up for it, and we climbed back through the fleet in the light conditions to take a 3rd out of the 13 boats racing.

Start of the second race was excellent. Crossed the line at speed at the favoured pin end just as the gun went. Boat was pointing beautifully, forcing the windward boats to tack off early and clear our wind. The only boat ahead of us got caught in an awkward shift and essentially parked on the windward mark, so we were first around.

The rest of the fleet followed close behind, now spoiling our air on the deep run to the leeward mark. Where it all went wrong. Talking spinnakers, we've got the hoist nailed, the drop is sweet and even the gybes are getting there. Gybe and drop clearly needs practice though. 

We didn't hit anybody, by the time we'd untangled ourselves, most of the fleet had ridden over us, and our spinnaker sheets had dropped over the bow.

In our favour, things still go wrong, but we've got a lot quicker at recognising the problems and fixing them. We got quickly back into the race, and clawed our way back to a respectable mid-fleet finish with a 5th.

Alex swapped in for Amanda for the third race, a forty-five minute afternoon pursuit, and first of the new series. Despite a bit of a rush getting back on the water, Alex and I timed a good start, quickly caught and overhauled the one slower boat that was ahead of us, then stayed easily clear of the rest of the fleet for the remaining duration, finishing with a 1st.