reading history, making history

It's thundery outside and I have no choice but to remain couped up indoors. Days like today make me want to write. Okay, it's not just the weather. It's also my way of side-stepping the research I should be doing on the English Civil War of the seventeenth century. I know, you can't understand my procrastination when the topic at hand is just so enthralling.
I have to admit, despite how my current avoidance of the aforesaid reading may reflect on my sentiments, I have actually found my study of the English Renaissance quite intriguing. While analysing the innovation, as well as the turmoil, of times gone by I do wonder what the history books (or websites) will say about our time, my time. As far as innovation is concerned, the Internet will almost certainly feature as the advancement that changed the world as we once knew it. I suspect mobile phones will follow closely behind. Personally, I threaten to toss mine into the Thames too often to pledge my support of this development in telecommunications. Do people really have to be able to contact me ALL the time?
There is likely to be mention of the numerous wars that continue to be fought around the globe and the effects of 'terrorism' on those who say they strive for peace. Most confrontingly, I wonder what approach historians will take when relaying such atrocities as human trafficking and global poverty. Will they speak of the many who fought to counter these devastating problems or will their digging reveal a past society who preferred to turn a blind eye? Will you be mentioned as one who made a difference...will I? The problem with the 'here and now' is a lack of perspective. Historians have the advantage of hindsight, the ability to see a fuller picture than the one we are caught up in on a daily basis.
Yet, perhaps there is a way. We live in a world that is better connected than ever before. I do wonder if checking Facebook as regularly as I do actually makes my world quite small. And is what the news feeds me on a daily basis a true picture of reality? The big picture is far more vast than I could imagine but I can try to understand. Books, websites, journals....I have past, present and future at my fingertips. While the historians can tell a story, I'm the one who makes it happen today. What will our legacy be - yours and mine? We choose what the historians write. And maybe one day, some student will be inspired by what we did instead of writing about what could have been.

electricity is current headache

Is it just me? Can anyone else’s experience in dealing with electricity providers be associated with having teeth pulled out minus anaesthetic? I want to vent. I want to relay every sorry detail of every frustrating telephone conversation I’ve had with ‘customer services’ over the last four months.  
But I won’t. No one else should have to suffer the agony of what I have experienced as the result of one seemingly simple decision: changing energy suppliers. I read those words and I shiver. And I am resolute that it will never happen again. My blood-pressure, stress levels and general health and wellbeing are worth more than a few pennies saved over the course of a lifetime. 
I have made approximately ten phone calls and had conversations with different EON representatives each time. Every newly received letter brings me closer to weeping as I consider that another fruitless call will have to be made, the situation re-explained, only for me to be told something different. Sometimes I’m lucky and I talk to someone friendly; other times I get the guy who simply hates his job. Those are not good days. How is it that we now live in a world where I can be held emotionally ransom by a headset-wearing, compassionless individual whose sole ambition is to ruin my life (or at the very least my day)? I want to scream down the phone, ‘Can you not understand my pain and frustration? Do you have a heart? ARE YOU NOT HUMAN TOO?’ Then I realise I haven’t even been put through to a real person yet; I’m wasting my anxiety on a recorded voice. So later, I sit and I simmer and then I blog. Because that is how we cope in an impersonal, technologically evolved world. And the irony is that I have to keep pursuing this ludicrous situation because I need electricity to keep my laptop alive, which enables me to write rather than combust. 
Maybe I should come to some agreement with the electricity provider whereby they deal with my query and in return they are entitled use some of the energy produced by my rage. But that would mean making another phone call…and I just can’t do it.

heart at home

All this rain, ruining picnic plans and postponing play at Wimbledon. It’s the first day of summer and I should probably be more put out than I actually am. Instead, I’m watching the drops slip down the glass of the window while I’m tucked up snuggly on the sofa in my study. We’ve been in our flat for almost five months and the literal blood, sweat and (almost) tears that have gone into never-ending DIY - sanding, painting, cleaning, hammering – finally feel worth it. I hesitate to count the many hours lost to perusing furniture catalogues and websites. Our magazine rack is testament to my addiction to Elle Decoration and Ideal Home. Having just crowned our newly acquired, stripy loveseat the ‘piece de resistance’ of the living room, we spotted a gigantic wall clock in Spain. I just knew that the rustic, French country-style theme would never be complete without it. Now, all other furniture lies in its shadow. My mother says it looks like we got it from a scrapyard. Good taste is clearly not genetic.
Replacing the burnt-out oven we inherited with the property moved further and further down the priority list in favour of aesthetics. However, one scorched meal too many finally pushed me over the edge. On Thursday a shiny new oven was delivered and the old health-and-safety risk removed. Is it sad to admit that this was the highlight of my week? Too late. Heston’s lemon tart, strawberry-cheesecake cupcakes and fluffy fruit cobbler have all been produced sans crispy edges and already Fox is begging me to have mercy on his waistline.
To most it would seem like tedious domesticity but I look around and I really love our little home. It may be disappointingly dismal outside but, even if summer never arrives, it’s warm and cosy at home.