"Can't manage it, no space and tomorrow is worse, the book is totally full", the trainee hairdresser/receptionist at the school told me, when I attempted a last minute booking for a hair treatment.

Words are interesting; the way vocabulary develops, how it changes in practice and use and how communication evolves in time, all these features are fascinating.  Language is certainly a dynamic force.  Language use can identify a cultural shift and an epoch in which a style might have been in use. Even a little  phrase can indicate so many things.

For example, today a foreign student asked if I could help with her English, an interpretation of a phrase. The dictionary was not providing any kind of useful insight with the context in question. The text was about celebrating mothers' day.  A man had visited a flower shop and decided to ... wire his mother some flowers.

It is no surprise to me that the student could not find a contextual interpretation.

I thought more about the question afterwards.  It is a terminology of its time, moved out of its time and its original context,like so much of our vocabulary is.  In addition, the term used is American English.

Our vocabulary is rich in meanings. It's what gives our language the subtlety and varied nuances that it has. The noun, 'wire', is no different. Just to add to the richness, let us not forget that it has also been turned into an infinitive of a verb, 'to wire' which, takes us back to where the problem of comprehension started.

Would you know it, the day I absolutely have to stay in and clear the decks with all sorts of important stuff, following a bank holiday, the weather is fabulous. The stiff breeze is warm and when I do put my head out the door, very briefly, (it is to do with the important stuff, honest) I find I am over-dressed, I am actually, too warm!

Discipline is called for, it is tempting to stay out, but no, I manage to stay focussed and go back home to complete the tasks. It means that when I do go out again I can stay out just a short time, no longer, as the evening meal will be wanted. Truth to say, I am peckish and want to eat something.

Going into a food store feeling hungry is not a good idea. The store helps me out. Most of the fresh produce is so well picked over, that much of what I want is out of stock.

I have a shared moan with someone who has been stuck in an office on this glorious day, then I go home. During our meal, I suggest that later we go out for a walk together. We do. And I am glad we did.

Even I have to admit that it has been a glorious day here. There has been an Easterly wind which kept the temperatures down a good bit. I went out without a jacket or a cardigan for a couple of hours around lunch time, but after that, it really was essential to put another layer around the shoulders. There were lots of determined hardy souls who were going to get those white sun starved arms exposed to the weather, just as long as they could stand the chill level.

Tonight, it is still wonderfully bright,just like during the day, in fact, it is superb. It is a lovely evening for a gentle stroll with the sunglasses on.
                                  

You'd have an interesting answer to the question "What did you do on your birthday?" Hubby said. Well, yes, I suppose I would. Here's how the answer would go.

This year, a large part of my birthday morning was spent travelling twenty miles to, and sitting in, our local hospital's Accident and Emergency Unit. In the cubicle, the nurse did a very careful triage of the problem, at which time I noticed things that had passed me by. We had a chat about the development of the medical problem. A doctor was called.

While waiting for the doctor, nurse made us comfortable in a waiting area with good chairs, a T.V. (not that we watched anything) and a 'customer' coffee machine. Hubby searched for change and bought us both coffees.

Nurse reappeared to to check her colouring-in of my problem presentation. One slight alteration, a flourish of shading and she was ready for a presentation.

Back in the cubicle, the young doctor introduced himself and asked me if I had been losing weight!? (I didn't know him from Adam and I wish...) There was a bit of prodding about and I made a suitable number intakes of breath, ouches and winces, These were followed by a brief discussion about the diagnosis. Doc. then gave me self-medicating instructions and said if things were no better within 48 hours I was to visit my own GP. Out of his earshot, nurse instructed that if things were no better in two days, I was to return to the hospital. "Why?" "Because," she said, "you might need intravenous treatment."

As we left, Nurse wished me a happy birthday.

Old age does not come without responsibilities. How true that saying is. At a time of life when you think you deserve a break from the relentless grinds of daily life, (wherever you have worked) the time of life now commonly referred to as the third age, hits you with a whole range of calling cards. All the cards are calls upon your time and abilities, physical and psychological. They make no allowances, they give you no quarter.

Depending on the straw pulled in the earlier years, you may find the third age totally invigorating and rewarding for some time.

Ahead of the young third - agers, are those seniors who will need the younger ones' supporting arms, also their minds, to assist them to remain in the community. If not, then the same people may need to arrange other forms of suitable care from the industry that has developed around old-age needs; then it is likely, they will ensure that all is as it should be. The care management of the vulnerable, frail elderly, more often than not, will fall to the younger, retired group.

Most people take on the responsibilities with love and honour. But, where have the ideas and the plans gone, where is the time and the physical ability to enjoy the changed lifestyle that age and retirement are supposed to allow?

What a muddle of thoughts I have experienced this week. Par for the current course of events I suppose. I never thought I would make sense of my 'to do' list, let alone get the order right. I even thought I wouldn't get through it.

"You know," someone said, "at times like these," (bereavement he meant) "you feel its all a great mess that can't get sorted. It does you know." Nice man. I plodded on.

Today, I saw that Edinburgh University Medical School was left £2 million, (just part of a range of academic bequests from one estate) sixty years after the donor had died. The thought of dealing with the affairs of an estate for that length of time - a lifetime - made my mind boggle.

Scoop - First pictures of the triplets

"Firty pahnds playse" said customer to transport ticket office salesperson.

The young cat who adopted sprog's landlady had three kittens yesterday afternoon. She found a box in a corner and got on with the business of production. Mum and triplets are doing well.

The little balls of life are described as adorable; one is black and white striped, two are black splodged and white. Mum, is a very attractive, petite white cat with bits of black strategically placed to maximum pretty effect.

I am bereaved. Many of us have been there and more than once in our lives.
Everything has to be arranged and tidied up as soon as possible, before I disappear from the the city to go to the comfort of my own home, which is far away. It is a difficult task, it is emotionally and physically draining. I admit, I am very tired now.

Much as I look forward to having a rest tonight, arriving at another new dawn tomorrow, with time set aside for a yap with a friend over coffee, (who I haven't had a substantial natter with since before Christmas), I am not looking forward to my mail piling higher with additions from the new post to come. It's like scaling a never ending mountain. Even scoring out things on my 'to do' list doesn't seem to deliver the usual satisfaction. More things get added.

Maybe, I'll be in luck and there won't be any mail tomorrow, (then pigs might fly!) Maybe, I'll be lucky enough to be out when phone calls for other people attempt to interrupt my progress with my own domestic catch up programme.

I'll be off now, as I have a hospital phone call to make. Earlier this evening, admission was definite, but there were no beds in two of the possible departments the patient could be directed to. This is in one of the largest London Hospitals I have seen, it's a small city in its own right. There is even a reception desk in one of the wings with a specialist clerk who can direct you, the visitor, to any of the nooks and crannies you need to find.

Tomorrow's another day - cheers!

"Won't  the doors open?" I asked the young man who arrived at the same time as me, but from the opposite direction.

"Your watch is wrong", I am told.  I've been caught out by the altered time. I didn't change my watch time to British Summer Time.  I wasn't the only one, I tell myself. There were two of us there ... 

The great terminators, Transport for London -

Click here for BAA's terminal guide

RIP