On the grape-vine

I had been wondering what to blog about when I was presented with an over-sized electricity bill. I don't remember asking the company to 'super-size me', so I gave them a call.

I started out calm, rational and convinced I was going to 'sort this thing out, once and for all.'

Tom, an innocent fellow, just doing his job, was nice enough if not a little patronising.

"So, Ms Person", accusingly.. "you, single-handedly, have been using twice the amount of electricity than my wife and children use in my home."

Now hold on a second! I could feel the calm transforming into the beginnings of an inner hurricane. I haven't even asked my question yet. Which was to be how the frig I had all of a sudden been slammed for four big ones. I had paid the bill on time, every month, since I had switched over to the company. A meter-reading lady had come periodically to read the meter, and thought everything was above board. So why had they the need to 'estimate' the bill, as they claimed this was the reason for the extra cost?

Now I owed them back-money?! Someone was to called up on this, and Tom bless his well-trained heart, was in the firing line.

It turned that after much deliberation and antler-locking (i shouldn't be doing that, I'm a girl fer crissakes) my mistakes were these: I didn't write down the dates the meter-reader came on; should have insisted on reading my own meter; should have taken tabs on how much I was using each day; should have kept a closer eye on the billing system.... and so on... who knew?

I refuse to relinquish my basic right to want to place trust in my fellow human beings, even if they are a massive power corporation (pun intended) looking only to line the pockets of the National football leagues.

The 'little old ladies next door' are to the most part just a statistic in their corporate data-bases.....until, to be fair, and you have to be pretty bull-headed to achieve this, you manage to win over the likes of the tele-operator Tom, who it has to be said, after I had my say in the matter, has struck me a 'fair deal' with the pay-back, even though there is nothing fair about it. He even volunteered off his own back to go the extra mile and call me a few days before the bills is due. But truthfully the kind of assistance I need is to have a genius brain installed in my skull so I can make any sense of any of it. But I will allow him to think he is genuinely doing me a favor, as i think he is an innocent pawn in the larger corporate mind-game. This mind-game is actually simply, wilful neglect. I am hardy. But what about the others, this has happened to, who maybe don't have the time or energy to stand up for themselves?

I feel tricked, cheated on and used...divorcees out there - remind you of anything?

I know there are others I heard it on the grape-vine...

What to do if you're bored on a rainy Saturday.

I have decided on this rainy day to make a light comparison between:

The Eight Limbs - the core of yoga and

The Ten Commandments - the moral epicentre of the Judeo/Christian philosophy.

I am sure it has been done before but, I am about to do it again, so fasten your seat belts and put on your head-phones, pump-up the volume because this could be a slow painful ride.

Here is what I have come up with so far...

• Don't kill

The first Yama (universal moral truth) - Ahimsa - Compassion for all living things

Commandment No.6 on the tablet. - You shall not murder

• Don't steal

The third Yama. Asteya - non-stealing

Commandment No.8 - You shall not steal.

• Don't lie

The second Yama. Satya - The Commitment to Truthfulness.

Commandment No.9 - You will not bear false witness against your neighbour.

The Do's

There don't seem to be many direct do's in common. The only thing I can say about it is that there is a vague similarity between prayer and meditation. The difference is in prayer we are generally told what to pray for, in a dogmatic manner, from someone in authority

In meditation there is just you and the universe. You are taking responsibility for your own thoughts. This is not easily possible following the rules of Christianity or Judaism. Same thing to an even greater degree in Muslim and Islam. Now those are two religions some people have a problem making a distinction between.

Why am I bothering to do this? Because I am trying to find a universal truth, or is it The universal truth. One that belongs to everybody. Life is confusing enough, and I possibly very naively thought that by simplifying it with comparative study, might bring me a better sleep tonight.

Well, i could rattle on all day about it but I have to walk the dog... buy oranges, and other sundries....

Tigger too.

My mood has lifted

I don't know

if its the spring

or if it's you.

Springs are bouncy

So maybe

You are bouncy too.

Day 2 ~ blog-a-day keeps cabin-fever at bay.

This is where I was on Saturday. Visiting the Travelling Tomb of Tutankhamun, in replicate.

It re-kindled the fascination I had as a child when I came across the story and pictures of this boy King. I don't know, maybe I was dazzled by the gold, the mystery, the antiquity, the beauty, the loftiness of royalty. Yes, all those things. But more than that, there is something very self-contained and comforting about the finding of the tomb. A tomb which, if it hadn't been for the persistence of one man, might still be lying in all it's glory, undiscovered under the hot Egyptian desert possibly for time infinitum. It gives me comfort in that it makes me wonder what else is buried in time, physically or ethereally, which nobody will ever know about or see. Oddly or not, I love that thought. I love the idea of the unknown, the never to be known. But I also love this teaser which highlights the sense of the unknown for me.

Here is another picture. This is a template of the burial chamber.

It kind of reminded me of the Babushka Russian dolls:

It actually looked like this, only they had separated each chamber and had me wondering how on earth they had fitted them into each other. My son explained. They had started with the smallest one and had built the others around it,. like you might build the bottle around the ship. After a few giggles we realised that would be impossible, and tried to imagine the glass-blower blowing melted glass around a tiny toy ship. The attention deficit continued and the mystery remained...

The man's name was Howard Carter and he looked like this:

I do have some reservations about it all. But then I have reservations about everything.

Here they are:

• The Tomb's right to privacy.

Mr Howard Carter didn't come upon this tomb accidentally. He actively went out searching for it. I'd do the same, who wouldn't? But there are some moral issues involved. It has to be made clear that grave-robbery is a crime, should be. But suddenly it became kosher to rob this grave because the government 'gave the go-ahead'. As I write this I am beginning to see why. If it hadn't been Carter, who found the tomb, it may have been someone else, who may have completely disrespected it. The integrity of Tutankhamun's tomb is currently intact. This is definitely the most satisfactory out-come. Compromise had to be made for the tomb's very survival, is one argument. But then, there is also the odds betting on, that the tomb may have never been found, in which case it would still be there undiscovered in it's ultimate untarnished glory. I would not be writing this, or have feasted my eyes and mind on the beautiful artifacts which conjured the images of a life, far beyond any we could emulate for ourselves today. It may not have in reality been a bed of roses all the time for this young family. I imagine that they were very much controlled and pretty well isolated in their existence too. But the initial reaction of coming face to face with a life size replica of these lives long past, fires and fuels the imagination, which then has to be put into perspective, by discovering and knowing the history behind these glittering gold and marble artifacts we saw in front of us.

Here is a picture of his friend Lord Canarvon who funded the expedition:

He was unwell at the time and been sent to Egypt to recuperate. Nice for him...

• Respect for the dead.

I can only imagine what I would say if someone asked me how I'd feel if my dead body went on tour around the world in replicate. I would probably say: "Why ask me? If you are going to do such a thing, I'd rather not know about it. Do what you want, you will anyway."

Well, no one got to ask King Tut, so we will never know whether he is being disrespected or not. I wonder what the ethics behind that is? If someone isn't around to be asked, should you do it anyway? I am not sure on that one. I am leaning towards, probably not.

• Tutankhamun's right to some post-death dignity.

Ok, so the grave was discovered. Even if it was an accident, what's the protocol? Jump up and down with glee and shout; "This is mine, all mine!!". ??

Let's get back to your grandmother. No. I wouldn't want someone to do that to her. I would want them to go: "Oops, my bad. Tip-toe back out, re-seal the door and place it under guard."

There is no way of knowing how he would have felt about his remains being put on public display all over the world, and viewed by everybody and anybody. All I know is how I would have felt if it had been my Grandmother's body, touring the world year in year out. But then my grandmother, as wonderful as she was, wasn't a goddess who lived in a palace made of marble and gold.... Never mind all that....I still and always will find it incredible that this one boy's tomb is such am rich and fascinating historical document.

I would like to dedicate this particular blog to Bex, Leo, Stephen and Jane (The Awesome Four-some) who helped me celebrate my (50th) birthday early and in such style. They are also the reason I have missed the past few days of the promised blog-a-day marathon. But are totally forgiven! Partly because they surprised me with a replica of the Cat Goddess Bast.

Bast represents protection, motherhood and fertility. here is a picture:

Well that is blog No 2 taken care of...I hope some of it was interesting. If not, the good news is tomorrow's will be completely different.

Happy Tuesday all!

A blog a day keeps the psychiatrist away... No 1.

To keep me from becoming a totally introverted nut-case, which I am already on the road towards regardless, I have decided to write a blog a day for the next 30 days. It will be on any topic and of any length of my choosing. This rule is to keep me from making excuses not to do it. The point of it is to get me out of my own head and sharing something.

Since I have given up smoking, and yes, it is for real, I was helpfully informed I would need to find something else to do with my hands. The ritual of rolling my own was all part of the attraction for me, and I do really miss it. But this tale has a happy ending. I am now the proud owner of two, woolly crocheted hats. I chose the blue and white mixed colour myself and even taught myself how to crochet. At first I tried following a pattern but gave it up after it kept coming out the wrong shape. So I started in the middle and worked my way out into a perfectly shaped hat, which I wear proudly around the town and even feel is giving me a certain air of respect from some of who I consider to be the 'cooler' members of the neighbourhood. (all around my age and older, shabbily dressed types with lots of hair and reading- glasses) Ok, they are all a little like me.

When the novelty of hat-making wore off, I turned my attentions to the key-board (of the musical persuasion) which was lying idle in the corner of the living-room-that-never-gets-lived-in. In only 24 hours I had taught myself the first half of Fur Elise, a tune I have always wanted to be able to play properly. I also polished up on a few other little tunes I had been learning over the years. Those couple of hours a day are really my most enjoyable.

Apart from these two creative asides in my life, I have managed to re-paint the front door, the back bed-room and do a reasonably impressive amount of gardening, considering there is still a chill in the spring air.

Meanwhile there is a large bumblebee in the sun-room sharpening his sting for the next time I attempt to put him in a jar. He will then be transported all the way out of the back-door and set free in the wilderness of my small domestic back garden.