Tristan's shaarli
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Right in the middle of all that brouhaha about sloping bridges and Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe, my mum died.
So there I was, in Russia, in the middle of a Top Gear tour, trying to organise her funeral and tell the children and sort out all the legal stuff, with the BBC moaning at me in one ear and a reporter twittering on in the other, and I knew that if I wept, which is what I wanted to do, because I was very close to my mother, the Daily Mirror would run pictures and claim they were tears of shame. It was a gruesome time.
And I knew that when I came home the BBC would still be bleating and the reporters would still be calling, and I’d have to go to her house and start sorting through her things. And where do you start with a job like that? Where did she keep her pension details, the deeds to her house, her insurance certificates? How do you cancel a Sky subscription? Did she have any shares? Premium bonds? And how do you find out if you haven’t got a sister who’s a lawyer?
Luckily, I do have a sister who’s a lawyer, but even though she could handle the paperwork, I’d still have to go through my mum’s things, and that would be a nightmare because I’m such a sentimental old sausage I even find it difficult to throw away an empty packet of fags. I think of the fun I’ve had smoking them and the people I’ve shared them with and I want to hold on to the wrapping as a keepsake, a reminder of happy times.
So what in God’s name would it be like in my mum’s house, surrounded by everything that made it hers, except her? And there’d be all those childhood memories. At some point it would be inevitable I’d find the egg cup I’d used every morning as a child and the cereal bowl with rabbits on it. That would tear my heart out.
At one stage I received a call from a middle-ranking BBC wallah saying they’d had a letter from some MPs, asking if I was going to be sacked, and I really wasn’t paying much attention because I was wondering what on earth I’d do with the mildly fire-damaged Dralon chair that my dad had bought for £4 in 1972.
Even by the standards of the time it was a truly hideous piece of furniture, and the years had not been kind to it. Any normal person would give it to charity or use it as firewood. But it was the chair my dad used to sit in. It had a cigarette burn in the arm from the time when he’d nodded off while smoking. I couldn’t possibly give it away, or burn it. And I sure as hell didn’t want it in my house. So what would I do?
There is no single thing in the house of anyone’s mother that isn’t infused with a gut-wrenching air of sentimentality. It’s not just her jewellery or her clothes. It’s the little things as well. Her kitchen scissors, her bathroom scales, her flannel. Every single thing in each and every drawer is as impossible to discard as a first teddy bear.
I would need a very big lorry to handle all the stuff I’d need to bring home. I’d also need at least two months to go through it all. And I’d need about 4,000 boxes of Kleenex.
However, here’s the thing. My mum did not die unexpectedly. She’d known for some time that the cancer was winning and had therefore had time to put her affairs in order. A job she had undertaken with some gusto.
I’d always assumed that “putting your affairs in order” meant writing a will and remembering to reclaim your lawnmower from the chap at No 42. But in the weeks since my mum’s death I’ve learnt that actually there’s a lot more to it than that.
First of all, she had left many helpful instructions about what sort of funeral she wanted. No friends. No flowers. And no mention of God or the baby Jesus. My sister and I didn’t even have to guess what music she would have liked because she’d told us: Thank You for the Music, by Abba.
All the financial stuff was in a neat box with everything clearly labelled. And she hadn’t stopped there. Before she became too weak, she’d had a massive clear-out. Pretty much everything she owned had been thrown into a skip. “It’ll save you the bother when I’m dead,” she had said.
But by far and away the best thing she did in those last few months was to sort out a lifetime of photographs, putting the ones that mattered into albums and, crucially, writing captions. So now I know that the time-faded sepia image of a stern-looking woman in a nasty hat is my great-aunt and that the blurred picture of what might be a corgi was my grandad’s dog.
Ordinarily, I’d have thrown away the endless pictures of what appear to be a building site, but thanks to my mum’s diligence, I now know it was the house in which I was born. And how it had looked when she and my dad bought it in 1957.
I don’t know how long she had worked on her downsizing and the clear-out and the organisation of her things, but it’s something we should all try to do when we know the Grim Reaper is heading our way. Because not only does it spare our loved ones from the hassle of going through every single thing we’ve ever owned but also it spares them from the grief of deciding that the horse brasses and the Lladro figurines really do have to go to the tip.
The only trouble is that there’s one thing my mum did not sort out. Back in 1971 she made my sister and me two Paddington Bears. They were the start of what became a very successful business and they were very precious, but over the years one was lost.
I maintain the sole survivor is mine. My sister insists it’s hers. And she’s the lawyer . . . so I have the cereal bowl with the rabbits on it, and the Dralon chair.
So there I was, in Russia, in the middle of a Top Gear tour, trying to organise her funeral and tell the children and sort out all the legal stuff, with the BBC moaning at me in one ear and a reporter twittering on in the other, and I knew that if I wept, which is what I wanted to do, because I was very close to my mother, the Daily Mirror would run pictures and claim they were tears of shame. It was a gruesome time.
And I knew that when I came home the BBC would still be bleating and the reporters would still be calling, and I’d have to go to her house and start sorting through her things. And where do you start with a job like that? Where did she keep her pension details, the deeds to her house, her insurance certificates? How do you cancel a Sky subscription? Did she have any shares? Premium bonds? And how do you find out if you haven’t got a sister who’s a lawyer?
Luckily, I do have a sister who’s a lawyer, but even though she could handle the paperwork, I’d still have to go through my mum’s things, and that would be a nightmare because I’m such a sentimental old sausage I even find it difficult to throw away an empty packet of fags. I think of the fun I’ve had smoking them and the people I’ve shared them with and I want to hold on to the wrapping as a keepsake, a reminder of happy times.
So what in God’s name would it be like in my mum’s house, surrounded by everything that made it hers, except her? And there’d be all those childhood memories. At some point it would be inevitable I’d find the egg cup I’d used every morning as a child and the cereal bowl with rabbits on it. That would tear my heart out.
At one stage I received a call from a middle-ranking BBC wallah saying they’d had a letter from some MPs, asking if I was going to be sacked, and I really wasn’t paying much attention because I was wondering what on earth I’d do with the mildly fire-damaged Dralon chair that my dad had bought for £4 in 1972.
Even by the standards of the time it was a truly hideous piece of furniture, and the years had not been kind to it. Any normal person would give it to charity or use it as firewood. But it was the chair my dad used to sit in. It had a cigarette burn in the arm from the time when he’d nodded off while smoking. I couldn’t possibly give it away, or burn it. And I sure as hell didn’t want it in my house. So what would I do?
There is no single thing in the house of anyone’s mother that isn’t infused with a gut-wrenching air of sentimentality. It’s not just her jewellery or her clothes. It’s the little things as well. Her kitchen scissors, her bathroom scales, her flannel. Every single thing in each and every drawer is as impossible to discard as a first teddy bear.
I would need a very big lorry to handle all the stuff I’d need to bring home. I’d also need at least two months to go through it all. And I’d need about 4,000 boxes of Kleenex.
However, here’s the thing. My mum did not die unexpectedly. She’d known for some time that the cancer was winning and had therefore had time to put her affairs in order. A job she had undertaken with some gusto.
I’d always assumed that “putting your affairs in order” meant writing a will and remembering to reclaim your lawnmower from the chap at No 42. But in the weeks since my mum’s death I’ve learnt that actually there’s a lot more to it than that.
First of all, she had left many helpful instructions about what sort of funeral she wanted. No friends. No flowers. And no mention of God or the baby Jesus. My sister and I didn’t even have to guess what music she would have liked because she’d told us: Thank You for the Music, by Abba.
All the financial stuff was in a neat box with everything clearly labelled. And she hadn’t stopped there. Before she became too weak, she’d had a massive clear-out. Pretty much everything she owned had been thrown into a skip. “It’ll save you the bother when I’m dead,” she had said.
But by far and away the best thing she did in those last few months was to sort out a lifetime of photographs, putting the ones that mattered into albums and, crucially, writing captions. So now I know that the time-faded sepia image of a stern-looking woman in a nasty hat is my great-aunt and that the blurred picture of what might be a corgi was my grandad’s dog.
Ordinarily, I’d have thrown away the endless pictures of what appear to be a building site, but thanks to my mum’s diligence, I now know it was the house in which I was born. And how it had looked when she and my dad bought it in 1957.
I don’t know how long she had worked on her downsizing and the clear-out and the organisation of her things, but it’s something we should all try to do when we know the Grim Reaper is heading our way. Because not only does it spare our loved ones from the hassle of going through every single thing we’ve ever owned but also it spares them from the grief of deciding that the horse brasses and the Lladro figurines really do have to go to the tip.
The only trouble is that there’s one thing my mum did not sort out. Back in 1971 she made my sister and me two Paddington Bears. They were the start of what became a very successful business and they were very precious, but over the years one was lost.
I maintain the sole survivor is mine. My sister insists it’s hers. And she’s the lawyer . . . so I have the cereal bowl with the rabbits on it, and the Dralon chair.
Jean-Marc Jancovici: «L’Allemagne est le contre-exemple absolu en matière de transition énergétique»
A lire,
je ne sais meme pas quel paragraphe citer tellement c'est ... je ne trouve plus mes mots
je ne sais meme pas quel paragraphe citer tellement c'est ... je ne trouve plus mes mots
Contre la depression hivernale, et tout simplement dans la vie de tous les jours, pour etre heureux, il faut ... etre heureux ... !
Ah oui, le nudging peut etre utilise efficacement pour autre chose que vendre des merdes
Oui tout ca est bien vrai, mais il faut contrebalancer avec le desir instinctif de faire au mieux pour ses enfants...
Les mefaits climatiques de la climatisation, surtout quand elle est generalisee et consideree comme gratuite et necessaire, alors qu'elle est dramatique pour l'environnement,
L'histoire du technicien de surface,
malheureusement ca n'arriverait plus aujourd'hui
malheureusement ca n'arriverait plus aujourd'hui
Ouch !
Oui moi aussi je me sens bien egoiste et culpabilise
Au moins j'essaye de pouvoir me regarder en face dans le miroir
Oui moi aussi je me sens bien egoiste et culpabilise
Au moins j'essaye de pouvoir me regarder en face dans le miroir
Oui je devrais ecrire plus moi aussi,
Au moiins je suis conscient de mes manques, mais je cree avec mes jambes, beaucoup
Au moiins je suis conscient de mes manques, mais je cree avec mes jambes, beaucoup
Oui laissons les enfantss tranquilles et etre des enfants
J'essaye de ne pas reproduire ces erreurs
J'essaye de ne pas reproduire ces erreurs
Interessant texte sur l'agriculture chinoise
bien documente
bien documente
Une histoire de burn-out.
Etre informe ca permet d'eviter de s'enfincer trop profondement
Etre informe ca permet d'eviter de s'enfincer trop profondement
Un peu de controver
se surr la cyclabilite hollandaise, mais bon quand meme
se surr la cyclabilite hollandaise, mais bon quand meme
Bah oui toujours plus, toujours plus longtemps, vers les sommets
Je plussoie, clairement l'idee derriere amp est bonne, son execution "evil"
Oui par pitie, un peu de silence ....
Bah oui c'est bien vrai tout ca, ca me fait reflechir a ma condition d'(ex-?)ingenieur et remet en perspecctive mes envies pour le futur. C'est vrai que je peux rester planque aussi
Oui l'effondrement arrive, ayez peur.
C'est triste quand meme
C'est triste quand meme
edifiant !
Bon a savoir, je suis sur que meme en courant comme je le fais ca reste ultra positif...
un peu d'histoire et d'ethymologie, un peu americano centre, evidement
Un bureau debout : https://linuxfr.org/users/kerro/journaux/retour-d-experience-bureau-assis-debout
Puis avec tapis de marche. On ne sait jamais si je dois reprendre un travail sedentairee (ppouah !)
Puis avec tapis de marche. On ne sait jamais si je dois reprendre un travail sedentairee (ppouah !)
Mouais a pied on se fait bien mal aussi
Le plasitque le mieux recycle c'est celui ue l'on n'utilise pas: non aux plastiques...
Oui plus ca va, plus je me dis que faute d'avoir ete un salaud, enfin bref, merci mon education
Le genre de texte qui me fait penser que d'une certaine maniere mes parents m'ont eduque a peu pres correctement. Mais ca n'est pas une chose dont je dois me ou les feliciter, plutot souligner les blames a donner a d'autres....
enfin bref, aussi je tiens a relier ca au fait que je n'ai jamais trop su "inciter" une fille a m'aimer ou m'apprecier, et avec ma timidite maladive,, enfin bref, oublie tout
enfin bref, aussi je tiens a relier ca au fait que je n'ai jamais trop su "inciter" une fille a m'aimer ou m'apprecier, et avec ma timidite maladive,, enfin bref, oublie tout
Comment mieux anticiper le futur et lire le preesent
Plus de routes, plus de traffic, et pas moins d'embouteillages..
A mediter, moi je veux plus de voies cyclables et reservees aux mobilites douces...
A mediter, moi je veux plus de voies cyclables et reservees aux mobilites douces...
comment repondre a des situations communes
A appliquer a nous meme
Moi aussi je veux des traditions comme celle la
Moi aussi je veux des traditions comme celle la
Oui oui oui
Allons nous promener tous ensemble
Allons nous promener tous ensemble
Un texte interessant sur ce que serait un bon laptop.
poids encombrement sont importants mais pas fondamentaux, en comparaison des ports et possibilites d'extension et d'usage...
poids encombrement sont importants mais pas fondamentaux, en comparaison des ports et possibilites d'extension et d'usage...
Un bon detail de sa methodologie, apres chacun est different, les newsletters, non merci
Aha, des criquets partout
Note to self : ne pas avoir de lezard qui mange des criquets
Note to self : ne pas avoir de lezard qui mange des criquets
Un peu caustique, mais c'est vrai que j'ai pas envie d'entendre des éditorialistes dire des conneries...
Triste mais intense
Belle lecture
Belle lecture
Oui oui lisons !
Quitter google, a ccompltere pour moi
Bim, et voila une belle conversion
si il en fallait encore
pour voir a quel poinnt facebook est creepy
pour voir a quel poinnt facebook est creepy
Comment tordre le cou aux idees preconcues
Legalize it !
Legalize it !
Et encore des chiffres en faeur du velo, n'en jete plus, la ccoupe est pleine...
ouvrons leur lesyeux...
ouvrons leur lesyeux...
Contre la "praticite"
Arf !
Heureusement on a un jardin et on fait ca maison, mais pas dit que je serais mieux dans une grande ville...
Heureusement on a un jardin et on fait ca maison, mais pas dit que je serais mieux dans une grande ville...
Belle investigation forensique
ineressante histoire de la piece cachee dans un mall
Un article tres interessant et flippant aussi, je pense avoir ete a la croisee des chemins, peu avant la fin de l'insouciance
voir aussi : https://medium.com/@yurideigin/more-evidence-for-jeanne-calments-identity-theft-hypothesis-26f7cece0cd2
ca semble credible et incroyable
ca semble credible et incroyable
Un bon retour d'experience
Oui autorisons nous a ne pas etre excellents, mais a juste prendre du plaisir dans nos loisirs
ca c'est motivantun bel article
J'ai toujours du mal car je ne suis pas le bon raisonnement.
Apres c'est plus une question personnelle que generale a laquelle je repond
Apres c'est plus une question personnelle que generale a laquelle je repond
Non a la course a la croissance effrenee, surtout dans la technologie...
Qui a peur des mechants terroristes ?
Ca c'est vrai, ca ne changera que peu de choses, meme si ca ne sert a rien de ne pas le faire...
Rafraichissant
Contre les informations et l'infotainement
Oui non a facebook !
Un article interessant sur les amish, l'evolution de la societe et de la technologie...
triste mais beau et edifiant de egnerosite et d'amour
Etre attentif aux choses qui sont interessantes et nous font evoluer
non a la societe de lattention immediate
non a la societe de lattention immediate
Moui, c'est vrai que ce n'est ps ;a longueur de nos douches qui pollue le plus
minimalisme, un objectif a suivre
une limite "geographique" a l'envoi de mail, surprenant mais logique
interessant
Motivation !
Comme quoi on peut toujours progresser et aller chercher plus loin
Comme quoi on peut toujours progresser et aller chercher plus loin
Interesantes comparaisons
le cote cree pour l'armee, bah pareil en France, mais plus dilue aujourd'hui
le cote cree pour l'armee, bah pareil en France, mais plus dilue aujourd'hui
Encore un requisitoire qui a du (bon) sens...
Une liste de comment s'adapter a l'anthropocene, pour l'homme et les humains...
Encore un plaidoyer intelligent en faveur du velo...
Hummm, c'est vrai qu'il y a u mieux par rapport aux velib de jcdecaux, mais pas que.
enfin du bon et du moins bon dans les VLS
enfin du bon et du moins bon dans les VLS
humm, je ne sais pas trop quoi penser de cet article.
Bon il a l'air un peu benet et aussi victime de sa condition sociale, mais aussi pas forcement un type bien, meme si il subit sa vie, enfin bref je suis confus
Bon il a l'air un peu benet et aussi victime de sa condition sociale, mais aussi pas forcement un type bien, meme si il subit sa vie, enfin bref je suis confus
Kow effort, hight impact
Aha, vive les malls !
Vu comme ca, je comprends le point de vue, mais ici, le bruit, les eclairages, et le pietinement...
Vu comme ca, je comprends le point de vue, mais ici, le bruit, les eclairages, et le pietinement...
Moi c'est pas les oeufs mimosas, mais du pain, et pareil !
De la psychologie et de l'education
oui oui il faut encourager le velo et decourager la voiture
Oui, vive le velo et non a la voiture individuelle en ville
L'histoire de pourquoi la legende des illuminati
Interessant a lire
Interessant a lire
Vive Elon 1er...
Comment "penser en dehors de la boite", comme on dit
Comment "penser en dehors de la boite", comme on dit
Au revoir le petrole et le traffic automobile.
J'ai hate d'etre dans le futur....
J'ai hate d'etre dans le futur....
Le web, la pub et la mise en oeuvre de macanismes odieux
Sur l'etat desastreux du web, apres son invasion par les masses.
Je ne peux qu'agreer...
Je ne peux qu'agreer...
C'est vrai ca !
Les articles en texte uniquement sont plus impactants qu'avec une image d'illustration inutile.
Les articles en texte uniquement sont plus impactants qu'avec une image d'illustration inutile.
Du vrai de l'exagere et du faux, mais globalement interessant a lire
Lecture intereressante sur les privileges et desavantages des groupes sociaux.
Aussi sur les biais inherents
Aussi sur les biais inherents
Toujours interessant a lire
sur les mefaits possibles du code partoutq
sur les mefaits possibles du code partoutq
Les dangers de trop dependre de google et son ecosysteme (et des gafam en general)
Les dangers des geants d'internet
C'est vrai que c'est fou ca !
Sur les differences culturelles entre les peuples et leurs evolutions temporelles, et meme a cause des cultures dans les champs !
Le pourquoi du comment du consentement et la construction societale.
Tous les exemples ne me parlent pas, mais ca reste vrai et je suis sensible a tous les arguments, sauf que je n'ai jamais pu etre un salop, non pas par peur, mais par manque de volonte d'outrepasser le respect des dites...
Tous les exemples ne me parlent pas, mais ca reste vrai et je suis sensible a tous les arguments, sauf que je n'ai jamais pu etre un salop, non pas par peur, mais par manque de volonte d'outrepasser le respect des dites...
dans la lignee feministe, les progres sont a faire aupres des garcons et non des filles
Un concept interessant, produire de l'energie a la salle de gym, plutot que d'en gaspiller
Il ne faut pas batir des infratructures pour veo n'imporet comment, il faut les lanifier intelligement pour qu'elles soient bien installees et utilisees
La manipulation en ligne
Bon a savoir pour eviter des e faire avoir, meme si je pense etre une mauvaise cible
Bon a savoir pour eviter des e faire avoir, meme si je pense etre une mauvaise cible
deux exemples parmi d'autres (d'articles) sur le mefaits de l'industrie du tabac
il faut les denoncer et les combattre
il faut les denoncer et les combattre
pourquoi le bitcoin est le mal
Internet of things, blabla connected devices.. bla
SECURITY !!!!
SECURITY !!!!