FOWC with Fandango: Wage


Dad belonged to the old school. He was 100 years old in this photo taken in 2015 and his working life was spent as a manual worker in a factory. I remember when I was a kid that he received a weekly wage. It was paid in cash on Friday at work and he would bring home the bank notes and change for the weekly purchases. He never had a purse or wallet, but kept the money he needed when he needed it, in his trouser pocket. It would rattle and jingle with the change.

I remember when I was 18 years old and eventually embarked on a working life. Dad’s wage was then being paid two weekly, but still in cash. He was then working for a subsidiary of the Ford Motor works in Dagenham. We were still living in the East End of London, and he would travel by train to work daily. When I had my first job, life had already been adjusted to a monthly wage paid into your bank account. in most cases.

Dad never had a bank account, never wanted one so he said. He just could not understand how I was only getting my money once a month and it was not even in hard cash. Even when I was married, had my kids and started to work again, he asked me how much my weekly wage was. It stayed with him all his life. Wages were paid weekly in his world. Eventually he became a senior citizen and got his pension monthly paid into his savings account. Even then he would pick up all the money and take it home, putting it away somewhere at home.

Eventually he was in a care home, but made sure his metal money box always had enough change inside to pay any bills that might arrive and we at last managed to convince him that he did not have to keep all the money at home and put some away into his savings account, but a bank account no way.  Yes, old habits die hard

FOWC with Fandango: Wage

RDP Tuesday: Passage

.Basel to Solothurn 05.09 (18)

There are passages showing which way to go, clear and definite. They all lead somewhere, even if the destination is so exact. And then you have the passage, like a train journey. It passes through stations, and often it is just one blur of colour and indistinct objects rushing past.

Which one is life? For each of us there is a different interpretation. Mine is definitely the blur. Day arrives and you have planned it more or less. Perhaps a letter arrives in the morning post, there might be a surprise telephone call. The daily passage has been disrupted and the train pulls out of the station and begins to roll. There could even be an unexpected  accident.

I found that our town is full of passages, and I have photos of all of them. But they are the ones with clear destinations, even attractive. However the passages in life are not always clear. I planned a shopping list on my iPhone and with one false and quick movement half of it disappears beneath my finger tips. I realised that I can no longer depend on my memory of the articles so urgently needed. I call my other half at home, he also has the list, or does he? He did, but only one item, the rest had disappeared. His passage was the train ride from the beginning to the end, blurred and indefinite and omitting most of the stations.

At the end of the day I do seem to have arrived at my destination, but often not as smooth as I would like it to be. There is always something that blocks the passage. What do we do? That’s life.

Solothurn Vorstadt 11.07 (9)

RDP Tuesday: Passage

Good Morning


Cleaning lady day so I am a little later. Even when the cleaning lady arrives you should be prepared. I was a little late this morning, must be old age creeping up on me. I noticed a heavy truck arriving on the path to the neighbouring house. The house has now changed generations, and it has been completely renovated. Now it seems to be the turn of the garden. It was always a large vegetable garden, but had been left to itself over the last couple of years. This morning it was one of those trucks with the cement mixer on the back and afterwards  I saw that a mechanical arm had joined in, so I think the garden is being redesigned.


I was hoping for a late sunrise this morning, but the clouds are still hanging around so I am compensating with one of my two remaining flowering orchids. I noticed that there is a special offer this week for a three flowered branch orchid in the store, so perhaps I might be encouraged to purchase one.

Today is a day at home. Yesterday I realised that the clock in my car was not functioning. Somehow it has to be brought back into action – no problem of course. I have no idea of such things, but had a look at the instruction book on how to do it. simple really, but it has to be done. I will tackle the problem this afternoon.


I managed to get one of my bird action photos yesterday. They are really a coincidence. I just randomly snap away  and when I upload the photos I suddenly see a hovering bird.

Yesterday I had to pick up some colour refills at the supermarket for our printer. Mr. Swiss had organised it. It is now in a new shop at the store. This shop is bascally one of the online places but now they have begun to have real shops with goods and people, although that is too much said. There are nicely clinical clean tables with one object attached by a chain to have a look, perhaps even try out, but there is no stock. The goods I had to pick up had been ordered but that was not so easy. A young man, full or enthusiasm with his new job at the shop, explained how when I arrive I have to go to the big screen and organise a ticket. As I had a receipt for the goods I was to pick up I could even scan in the barcode on this screen. Then I can go to the sales desk with the ticket or not and he has everything ready.

I had to surpress my laugh.  Is this the future of shops where they have no stock, just single examples in their shop that looks more like a museum exhibition. You tell them what you want and can pick it up the next day. I do not go every day to the supermarket and decided I prefer to order it over the computer where it is delivered home. Of course the predecessor of this department belonged to the supermarket directly. They had a stock, and shop assistants that actually spoke to you, gave you advice and showed you a selection of the goods they had. You even got a friendly smile and not just a robotic nod. You could choose what you wanted. How are my grandchildren going to grow up? Will they know the joys of shopping, perhaps meeting neighbours and friends in the shops, looking at the various goods and choosing and even comparing prices. OK, I know that shopping is not always a wonderful past time, but imagine how it is becoming. Empty shops, single customers who communicate with a screen before being served, a few robot similar assistants and goods displayed as it if they were museum pieces. Of course everything is very hygienic, white tables and nice labels on the goods which are chained to the table. For me this was a vision of the future, something out of a science fiction film.

And now time to go, dinner is cooking and I should really move on. Have a good day everyone, and make the most of your shopping. Shops are changing and slowly disappearing.