Artificial Intelligence

Have you used AI at all? I am bit of a dinosaur when it comes to technology, and I tend to only learn what I absolutely have to learn, in order to achieve what I want to achieve. (I am waiting for when AI can clean a dirty bathroom and sort the laundry out–that would be an excellent use of resources.) However, I have used the picture-drawing tool on my WordPress site, for my blog, and this has been fun. Mostly though, AI has removed some of my fun. One of the features that WordPress offers is details of various stats–how many people have read my blog, which countries it has been read in, which posts are particularly popular. It was fun, and after publishing a new post I would usually check to see how much traction it gained, always hoping it would be shared on social media so it would spread beyond my faithful email followers. Maybe one day something would ‘go viral’ and a post would become ‘famous,’ read by millions.

However, this changed recently. I noticed my normal stats (in addition to my 500 followers, usually around 30 extra readers each week) had suddenly shot up. I didn’t think this was because I was more popular, I think it’s because my work is being read by bots. I think computers are reading everything on the internet, AI is learning, my blog just happens to be one of the things hundreds of bots are reading. Which is much less satisfying than humans reading my work. I do not think it’s coincidental that most of my ‘readers’ are now in the US, India and China. It feels a little weird to be ‘read’ by a machine. But I guess if they are ‘learning’ then my blogs are as valid as any other voice. Perhaps they will one day even understand my humour.

I am regularly ‘fooled’ by AI in everyday life. Like when I try to complain about something, and am having an online conversation with a ‘person’ who seems to be on a loop–a sure sign that I am talking to a machine. I also believe things that I shouldn’t–like that a restaurant has lots of brilliant reviews, when I know that AI is able to write reviews and post them to any business willing to pay. I understand that even online news articles are sometimes written using AI, which means what we read as ‘fact’ might not be factual at all. It makes for a confusing world, one where we are not sure what to trust. I guess we need to learn new ways of looking at things.

I think it’s more of a problem for older people (like me). I was discussing my fears with one of my sons, saying that when I watch cute cat videos on Instagram, I am sometimes aware that they are fake. Cats would never behave like the ones in the video, it has been created by AI not filmed by a loving owner. My son said this problem was not particularly one for younger people. They have grown up knowing that anything online might be fake, seeing is not believing. He said it is my generation who read something in the news, or see a video, and automatically assume it is true. Because in the olden days, when I was a child, it would have been true. Something in a photo really happened. But not today. Today we need to be wise, we need to not trust the media, not trust what we see. Which seems a shame. But perhaps it has always been like that. Perhaps we gave authority too easily to the church, the school, the BBC. Perhaps even in the olden days we should have paused more often, we should have questioned ‘is this true?’ Perhaps information has always been unreliable, or biased, it’s just that today we are more aware of it. What do you think?

For my readers who are not bots (and who might enjoying sharing the occasional blog with other humans) thanks for reading. Be wise and pause before you trust.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Person wearing an intricate golden crown standing in a dark, old room with vintage decor

A Short Rant

Posted by anneethompson

Feeling Entitled

I love England. I love the countryside, and I love the people—nowhere else seems to have the ironic humour, the lack of fuss, the basic honesty of British people. (Yes, I know there are exceptions.) If you’re standing at a bus stop in the rain, someone will make you laugh. If you drop your purse, probably someone will give it back to you. However, the big fault that I see in my fellow Brits, the one trait that might break us, is a sense of entitlement. (Be warned, there is bit of a rant coming.)

This seems to be a modern thing. When I watch old movies, or series set in the past on telly, the overriding trait seems to be one of duty. ‘What ought I be doing?’ But not now. Now I hear people complaining that their problems are not being solved by the government, by the NHS, by the schools… People seem to think that if they have a problem (don’t we all have a problem of some kind?) then someone else ought to solve it.

If a child has a disorder that makes them not able to learn as easily as other children, then they are entitled to extra help, special treatment, provided by the school. (Who do they think will pay for this? Who will lose out because the staff are giving extra time to their child?) Surely a diagnosis is helpful so they can form strategies to overcome the problem, not to make an excuse, certainly not to off-load the problem to the school. They may need extra help, and they can ask for it, but should they feel entitled to it?

If someone has a health problem, they think the health service should sort it, at whatever expense—irrespective of how much has been budgeted, and therefore which other patients might lose out. And they think that they should be seen locally, with little or no waiting time, by a friendly helpful professional, in a clean environment with comfortable chairs and facilities in case they need them. Oh, and easy parking or transport provided. All for free, of course. And if they find it difficult to walk, they should be able to park their car wherever they find convenient—irrespective of the danger to other drivers or pedestrians. And they should be provided with flat walkways. Because they are entitled.

The one which really annoys me is when things happen globally (not naming any names) and it messes up things like the oil supply. Instead of recognising there is a crisis, thinking about how to get round the problem, people feel entitled to compensation. If the cost of living goes up, the government should ensure no-one loses out. People still expect to be able to buy their coffee (imagine if they had to make it at home!) They still expect to have a holiday (somewhere sunny). They still expect to be able to have a car for every driver in the family, and a computer for everyone in the family, etc, etc. Because they’re entitled to. Aren’t they?

Now, I know that we pay taxes, and these taxes provide education and health services. But it’s not a magic pot. The money is only there if we put it there. And lower taxes are another thing that people think they are entitled to. There is a mentality of ‘let the rich pay.’ I’m not sure who ‘the rich’ are. Do they mean media celebrities who earn millions entertaining online or on the telly? Or perhaps they mean people who have inherited millions from their families (irrespective of what costs they might also have inherited). Or perhaps they mean the people who worked hard at school, and studied after school, and then worked long hours (not spending their evenings at the pub) and therefore earn more than them? Is ‘anyone richer than me’ the people who should pay? Because I am entitled.

This worries me, because it is not sustainable, and it breeds discontent. I think we need a change in thinking. Life is full of problems, and some of them will disadvantage you. But instead of seeing a problem as belonging to other people, of feeling entitled to not solve it ourselves, we need to take some ownership of the difficulty. If we have a problem (health, educational, financial) then it is our problem. We can look for help—and often it is available because we live in a great society—but we are not entitled to it. Sometimes having a problem means we need to change something, we need to forgo something, we need to accept that something will be more difficult for us. A child with a learning disability should be taught strategies to overcome the problem, not expect society to bend to them. A health problem might mean finding new ways to cope. A financial problem might mean living differently.

I’m not saying that our society shouldn’t help—it’s helping that makes us human. It’s the sense of entitlement, the continual moaning, the feeling that every problem (even when it’s our fault for buying something unwisely) should be solved by other people. Let’s take ownership of our problems. Let’s find solutions together, which might involve asking for help but please, can we try to not feel so entitled. At the end of the day, no one owes you anything.

Okay, rant over. Thank you for listening. What is your ‘pet hate’? What worries you in society? Add to the comments below, and perhaps we can create a perfect society!
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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Handwritten complaint letter about furniture defects next to an envelope and pen on a wooden table

Dear Virgin Media

Posted by anneethompson

Dear Virgin Media,

Thanks for allowing our query to go to arbitration after your complaints department deemed it something they were unable to resolve. I understand the arbitration has also proved unsuccessful for us, which means we must accept the decision. And wow! What a decision! I am writing because I am surprised this is acceptable to you. But perhaps it’s not. Perhaps you are just a person working in the Customer Services department, wishing there was air-conditioning that worked and wondering why the clock moves so slowly. Perhaps you, the person reading this, has no real idea (nor possibly interest) on what is actually happening to real people in the real world. Or perhaps I have misunderstood. In which case, please do reply and let me know. It would be nice to discover that Virgin Media is not exploiting vulnerable people…which is what it looks like.

The situation (from where I am sitting, in my non-air-conditioned room) looks rather grim in terms of customer service and honesty. The situation looks very like you (not you personally, obviously, but the company for which you work) have found that ripping-off elderly customers is a really easy way to increase income. I guess it is an easy way to make money. Especially if you put a friendly person with an authoritative voice on the phone—who wouldn’t believe them if you phone to query your bill and are told that this deal (double what others pay) is the best deal? Most elderly people would trust that, wouldn’t they? But I like to think this wasn’t your plan. I like to think there were strange coincidences along the way.

We must go back in time, to 2018, when my mother agreed a package with you. It seemed reasonable, we relaxed (this was our mistake). Every few years, the price would mysteriously rise (I know, cost of living, need to have a holiday, the first price was never meant to continue at that level anyway, etc, etc). We warned Mum (not easy to get your mother to take advice—have you found that?) that the price being offered was probably not the best deal. And so Mum (who did listen on this occasion) would phone Virgin Media. She would speak to a lovely person (I am sure you are all lovely) who would convince her that the price they could offer was the very best price available, they were doing her a favour really—you know the sort of thing. Now, these calls were recorded (by you, not Mum—that would be a bit too difficult and possibly illegal). Strangely, these recordings no longer exist. Isn’t that strange? You still have the transcripts, written by a Virgin Media person who is possibly unlikely to write: ‘I offered a really high price and the old lady seemed confused but accepted it, so we’re good to buy decent wine for the office party this year, soo easy to rip-off vulnerable old women! Go Virgin Media!’ Yes, it seems unlikely they would phrase it like that. And of course we cannot compare what they did write with the actual conversation because you no longer have the recording, apparently. I love my mother dearly, but I doubt if she would have seemed especially savvy on the calls. I don’t suppose they confused her with a stocks trader.

All we have are the basic facts. Virgin Media assured my mum that £63 a month, for the most basic package, was the very best deal available. So, from 2019 at £36:19, to 2025 at £62:27—that is quite a rate of inflation! Do you pay that much for the basic package at Virgin Media? I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I really am curious. How much do you pay for the most basic package?

The really funny thing (this will come as a shock, I know, so maybe sit down before you read it) the really funny thing is that when my husband phoned Virgin Media on her behalf, they offered a price of £33. Yes, £33 for the most basic package. Isn’t that strange! Now, I don’t like to think this is because my husband does not sound like a vulnerable elderly person—but he doesn’t. I don’t like to suggest that if he had sounded like a vulnerable elderly person Virgin Media would have decided to exploit his vulnerability to maybe increase the bill even more rather than halve it. Yes, practically halve it. But it’s certainly strange, don’t you think?

Now, we contacted your complaints department, but they were unable to help. (I think they offered a token gesture, but given how much money an elderly person has over-paid this seemed worth taking further). We continued to arbitration. I don’t like to think they are possibly biased, are not working for the consumer nor setting rigorous standards for the industry, but they decided that a vulnerable elderly person being exploited for several years by Virgin Media was an acceptable situation. We lost. Nothing more we can do. The amount paid to Virgin Media over several years is not insignificant to an elderly lady living on a pension—but I guess that’s of no concern to you. I guess nothing illegal was done, if exploiting vulnerable people is an acceptable practice for Virgin Media, then why worry? But I do wonder what you (this time I do mean you, the human who is reading this letter) I wonder what you think? You probably have a granny, or an elderly aunt, or someone a little vulnerable. Do you think it’s okay?

Thanks for reading. Take care.

Love, Anne x

I sent this to Virgin Media as a courtesy before posting on my blog. I will let you know if they reply.

Not Getting Home

Posted by anneethompson

Hello, you may remember from last week’s blog that we had trouble getting home from Italy. After a week in the Italian alps, we packed ready to catch our flight home on Sunday. At 3am we received a message from BA saying our flight was cancelled (there had been storms in London and the plane did not arrive in Italy ready to take us back). We therefore booked into a hotel in Milan, and waited for our rescheduled flight on the following Tuesday. (Yes, Tuesday.) The hotel was lovely, and we had internet, therefore although inconvenient it wasn’t the end of the world, we could both work, there are worse things in life.

However, by Tuesday I was SO ready to go home. There was a limit to how useful my work was without my computer (I could access the library on my phone, but reading theology books on a phone is not quite as easy as reading them on a large screen). The weather was really hot, so although we were near Milan, a hot hour on a train to get to the centre, followed by tourism in an overheated city, was very unattractive. So we stayed in the hotel–literally inside the hotel. Which after two days made me a bit desperate for fresh air (but when I ventured outside, the air was thick with fumes and it was so very hot, it was not ‘fresh’ at all!)

Tuesday morning, we packed our things ready to go home. I joked with Husband about how I had mixed my clean and dirty clothes before, and this time I wondered whether I should try to keep the not-too-dirty ones separate…just in case… But I didn’t. Although I did decide to keep snacks and water bottles, thinking I would discard them at the very last moment.

We left the hotel and entered the stale-aired chaos of the airport. Too many people, concentrating on pulling luggage, avoiding other travellers, signs flashing, noisy tannoy, watching the red letters on the information board, keeping track of my valuables, ignoring the smells of fast-food outlets, and perfume, and bodies, trying to balance on the escalator. Much too much noise and smell and stress. (I am not a happy traveller.)

We checked in and left our bags. BA had moved us down a group when it reissued the tickets, so we requested to be put back into the group we had paid for (Group 4–so nothing fancy, just not left until the very end when all the overhead lockers would be full.) The kind person at check-in moved us into Group 3. We walked to the gate. Due to Brexit (so much I could write) we have to go to passport control via separate screens, entering details about visas and right-to-stay, which adds another long queue to enter and depart Europe. We eventually arrived at the gate, waited to board.

We boarded the flight pretty much on time. Then we waited. There was a fault on the aircraft; an engineer was sent. We waited. After a couple of hours (yes, hours) they brought round cans of drink and biscuits. At one point they warned us the lights and air-con would turn off, as they were ‘switching everything off and then restarting the system.’ This reminded me of my son’s advice when my computer won’t work. It did not bode well. After about 4 hours, we were told they couldn’t fix the fault, we should collect our luggage, and we would be sent to hotels and contacted about new flights. Super.

We went back to the terminal (via the annoying extra queues because of Brexit) and collected our bags. There was no one with a sign telling us what to do or where to go. I went to security, and they suggested I should go to the BA lounge. There was a BA representative, but he did not make his presence obvious, and certainly did not make any announcements. If I had been travelling alone, I would have felt very insecure. I chatted to a couple of passengers who were travelling alone, and told them the information I had. When we left, I went via the lounge and told them they should send someone with a sign to the arrivals hall, because people did not know what to do. I’m afraid the bossy-school-teacher is still in me.

However, I was not alone, and 40ish years ago, I chose wisely. As soon as the flight was delayed, Husband had looked online for other flights leaving Milan. The instant they announced our flight was cancelled, he booked tickets on the flight the following day, and rooms back at the Sheraton. I suggested that if the flights BA sent were better, maybe we should use those? He made non-committal noises.

We returned to the lovely Sheraton. No clean clothes, yuk. But I still had water and snacks. We got to our room sometime after midnight. A message from BA arrived. They offered us tickets at 5am the following mornings (so after maybe 3 hours sleep) to Zurich. Yes, Zurich. We would then spend 12 hours in Zurich airport, and catch the evening flight to Heathrow. We declined, and requested a refund.

Wednesday, three days after our scheduled flight, we returned to the airport. The flight was delayed, which worried me, but after about an hour, we taxied to the runway. We made it home. It was so lovely to finally arrive, to see the animals, to unpack, to have clean clothes and my own bed. In the grand scheme of things, a few days in Europe staying in a hotel is not so bad. But something about being in limbo, of not being able to do things we have planned (I missed the funeral of a friend, for example) was very unsettling. We have our plans, and we like things to be normal. Normal is something to be valued, but we often don’t notice it until it’s missing.

Hoping you have a nice ‘normal’ week this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Dear Member of Parliament

Posted by anneethompson

I have been reading the news lately with a sense of doom. Yet again, the Prime Minister has been ousted from office—not because they were found to be undertaking criminal activity, nor having an affair (anyone who can’t keep solemn promises to their spouses is unlikely to be trustworthy in power) nor were they found to be abusive in some way. Nope, yet again, a prime minister has been shoved aside because (in my opinion) other politicians (you) think they would like the job. Of course, this is all dressed up in rhetoric about it saving the country, about taking society in a different direction. But really? Do you honestly expect us to believe that the person who a few short months ago was being lauded as the best leader in the country has suddenly had a personality change? Perhaps has been converted to a dodgy ideology? Has been found to be secretly working for the enemy? (I’m not even sure who the enemy is anymore.)

Now, I should admit, I am not political. I have no interest in the political manipulation that is part of running for office. I want to stay at home with my animals and books, with occasional visits with family and friends. I am very happy to stay in my box and let those with ambition run the country. But please, can you get on with it? Can you do the job we voted for you to do and run the country, and not waste all this time and money and energy in looking out for your own career? Because it seem to me, that being a member of Parliament is just shorthand for ‘wants to be prime minister and will be constantly looking for an opportunity to criticise the current one.’

I am not suggesting that our previous leaders (and there have been a lot of them) were perfect. Mistakes were made. However, have our social-media-minds made it impossible to think in the long term? Do we look at ‘now,’ feel dissatisfied, and holler for a change in leadership? How does that allow anyone time to learn the job? How does that allow for long-term policies which might be unpleasant now but will in time improve the country? … improve the country…now that’s a thought!

Do any of you think about that any more? Do you think about how to make this small piece of land a good place to live? Or do you focus only on the popularity polls? Does it matter more that the voters like you, or that what you are doing is good? I understand this is a problem with democracy—that to be voted for you need to be popular, and if not voted for you can do nothing. But surely, this could be a problem limited to the times of a general election? Surely once we have voted for a party, that party might change focus and become engrossed in running the country? Could you, I wonder, forget about your own career for a few years until the next election, and allow the person who we all voted for, to run the country? We might change our minds—we might decide we made a bad choice—but could you, as a member of parliament, please show some loyalty, some stability, and support that person (in public if not in private) until the end of their term?

I find it disappointing when newspapers have phrases like ‘voted for the person most likely to ensure they keep their jobs at the next election.’ Is that truly the situation? Is that honestly why we have seen one leader after the next undermined by their own party (the party that voted them into the position in the first place).

I have a suggestion for you. Look at the policies of the person who you are voting to lead your party, and choose wisely. But then, after the voters have voted them into power, take some responsibility—stick with them, loyally supporting them until the end of their term. Keep your arguments for the private debates, not the newspapers. Even when they make mistakes (could you perhaps try and help them so the mistakes are fewer, or do you gleefully think that if they go down, you’ll go up, so mistakes are great?) Maybe we need to make this law. Maybe we need to say that unless there is a reason (health, criminality, indecency) we are all stuck with our freely-voted-for leader until the end of the term. Maybe that would change your focus, so that running the country is what matters.

So, Dear Member of Parliament, please could you think about it? About running the country, I mean, not enhancing your political career. Could you consider whether you want to SERVE the people who voted for you, and if not, then look for another job?

Hopefully yours,

Anne

P.S. To my foreign readers, who might have read that we didn’t like our leader because he didn’t support a certain war, please be assured that this is not true. I have heard many views from people who disliked our prime minister (although I personally thought he was okay) and not one of them has thought we should have entered a war which we considered to be ilegal. Just to correct the record.

walking with a stick while a dog holding a large stick and three cats on a forest path

A Bad Back

Posted by anneethompson

My back muscles gave out this week. It always surprises me how this affects everything (which shouldn’t really because obviously all other limbs hang off the back, so when your back is agony, so is lifting a fork or taking a step). If you’ve never suffered with a bad back, you probably don’t fully appreciate what I’m saying (and everyone who has had a bad back will be nodding along in sympathy!)

It’s very annoying, and very bad timing. I was planting sunflower seeds, and I didn’t feel anything aching, so I guess I wasn’t being particularly protective of my back (which is an on-going weakness). I stood up and ‘click’ something snapped. (Well, it didn’t snap, but it felt like it!) I was at the far side of the field, without a phone, and I wondered how I would get back to the house. Mad Meg was not helpful, rushing round with a log and trying to entice me to throw sticks for her. Nor were the cats, who saw me walking (hobbling) slowly and came to enquire whether I would like to stroke them, rubbing against my legs and jumping on my feet. I made it back to the house and told Husband he would have to sort the geese and cook dinner.

The timing was terrible—the day before Husband left for Egypt on a work trip. He did offer to stay at home, but his trip looked fun, and I knew I could manage, so I told him to go. I took ibuprofen (marvellous drug) and rested, hoping and praying that it would be better in the morning. It wasn’t. Which meant I had to cancel tea with my daughter-in-law, which has been a treat in the diary I have been looking forward to. Illness is rarely convenient, life is often disappointing.

I am currently managing, whilst being in pain most of the time. I know it will pass, it’s only muscles/ligaments I think, because if I rest and take Nurofen it starts to improve, and when I move (the animals and me still have to eat) then it stiffens up again. I am existing with life at a new level. If I drop something I look at it, lying unhelpfully on the floor, knowing it will stay there for a week. (It’s a little like being 9 months pregnant, when so much of life is beyond reach.) If I put on clothes inside out, they stay that way because it’s too much effort to change them. Drying after a shower takes on a whole new logistical procedure. I can manage slippers and wellies, shoes are beyond me. I found a nice fat stick in the garden, and now use it to walk to feed the animals. I hobble slowly, like an old woman. Meg bounces along next to me. I can’t take her for a walk, but she seems happy enough just following me around, and she sleeps in my room when Husband is away, so she has become my (rather smelly) shadow. Some furniture (the comfortable kind) is no longer possible—I use the upright chairs to avoid getting stuck.

The thing is, when life goes wrong (and in my experience it often does) then we have to cope with bitter disappointment, and then get on with solving the new problem. I appreciate my back in a whole new way, and I realise that in our modern world of pain killers and dishwashers (but only the top shelf—the bottom shelf is too low!) even a bad back is not so bad. I am very grateful this didn’t happen when I was in Edinburgh for my review, or when travelling. This week I can cope. One day, we will all be old, or ill, and have to adjust to a new way of doing things, perhaps wearing inside-out clothes or eating less well because it’s too difficult to cook. That is life. It has some difficult times, and we just have to get on with it. Perhaps illness is a way to practise, so that when we get to that stage in life we know to live in the moment, to focus on the good things, to not let the pain dominate.

I hope you are currently pain free. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Worrying About Foxes

Posted by anneethompson

Anyone who keeps poultry tends to dislike foxes. I have nothing against them per se, but they kill my birds so I try to keep them away. It was easier before people started feeding foxes, because they are wild animals and had a natural wariness of people. But now people feed them (I have strong opinions about such people, which I am holding in) the fox has lost all fear of humans. Foxes will positively seek out human houses, looking for food. I have seen foxes walking brazenly across my lawn, right in front of the kitchen window—no fear at all.

The trouble is that foxes do not kill for food, they kill for pleasure (like cats). If they see birds, they will kill all of them not just the ones they want to eat. Killing is sport.

The main way I protect my flocks is locking them in a fox-proof cage as soon as it’s dusk, and having a dog. For all her annoyances, Meg is good at keeping the fox away. I am careful when we’ve been on holiday, because the fox quickly learns that the dog is away, and our garden becomes part of fox-territory. I always keep the birds locked inside for a few days, until the fox has learnt there is a mad dog who loves to chase things in the garden.

My new problem is that the geese are now in the field next to the garden—which is a bigger area for the dog to patrol. She goes in there a couple of times a day, and I hope that the scent of her will be a deterrent, but I still worry. Most foxes would probably not bother geese and cockerels—much too much bother, because they are big and noisy and fight back. But a big male fox, or a fox with cubs, would kill them in a flash.

Apparently foxes dislike the buzz of an electric fence, so that is one (expensive) possibility to consider for the future. I did once buy a battery-operated deterrent which claimed to make a noise that foxes would hate. I put in the battery and switched it on—no sound at all. Then all my children (who were teenagers at the time) arrived in the kitchen to ask what the horrible noise was! It clearly worked (on teenagers, if not foxes). I will try to find something similar.

I also thought that maybe, if I made a model of a person, the fox would see a human, and decide to go elsewhere. Afterall, farmers have used scarecrows for centuries. I have no idea whether they actually work, but I have plenty of old clothes, I thought I would try. When we were children we made guys to burn, stuffing old clothes with newspapers (this is a tradition which is impossible to explain to Americans without sounding like we’re very weird). However, I wanted something a little more weather-proof. I looked online for a manikin. They were all over £100, which is more than I wanted to spend (because it might not work). Then I thought maybe an inflatable one would work. I can tell you, looking online for an inflatable manikin shows some seriously dodgy sites! However, Amazon sells some, for using as Halloween decorations. I bought a cheap one. I also bought a Styrofoam head, a wig, some reflective sunglasses—all very cheap, but quite good when put together. I now have a tall thin person guarding my field. Not very realistic if one looks properly—I’m hoping a fox will not pay too much attention but will see it and move on. Perhaps I should spray it with perfume occasionally. Certainly the geese were interested, and all came to chat to the strange person standing in their field. I will let you know how things develop.

Meg’s Diary: A Hurt Foot

Posted by anneethompson

19/1/2026

Meg is extremely unhappy. On Saturday she went in the garden with Husband. When Husband is in the garden, it is often to destroy something—take down a dead tree, pull up ivy, dig up an old root. Meg seems to have noticed, and joins in with enthusiasm—which means that if she goes into the garden with Husband she is also destructive (but not in a good way). He blames the personality of the dog (but I don’t tend to have this trouble when I am in the garden with her—just saying).

Anyway, on Saturday they both disappeared into the garden (one on a mission to destroy) and I started to vacuum (not my favourite thing). In a very short while, they both came back, Husband saying that destructor-dog had hurt herself during a frenzy of destroying old logs. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but as she blasted her way through a bush she yelped, hopped, charged across the lawn and through another bush, yelped again. She was now limping and licking her front paw.

I checked, but couldn’t see any sign of thorns or tears. I thought she may have caught her ‘dew claw’ on something. (These are the doggy equivalent of thumb nails, and some people remove them because they often catch on things and cause trouble.) Saturday evening passed peacefully enough. Meg licked her paw occasionally, but nothing troublesome, and when we went in the field she forgot about it and walked quite happily and then let me hose it, so I thought all was fine. Probably just a thorn which was now gone, or caught her nail, something minor.

Sunday morning, Meg got out of her bed, and her back legs were weird and she was limping. This was a shock. I am very worried about her back hips, because she has always sat ‘wonky’ so I worry they are not properly aligned or something—but she walks/runs/charges without problem, so I have always reassured myself. Now I was worried—had my fears come true?

However, it soon became apparent that it was not her hips but a back foot that was causing her problems. She wouldn’t put it down, and kept licking it. The licking turned to more persistent bothering, and she made it bleed. Which meant we had to resort to a collar—you know, one of those big plastic cones that fit around a dog’s head and make it impossible for them to lick their limbs. We had an old one from when Kia was alive, and we fitted it onto Meg. She was terrified.

Meg sat, shaking, refusing to move. I tried to reassure her, stroking her, talking calmly, being close. Meg bashed her way into her bed (she couldn’t account for her extra width) and did not move all day. She would not eat, nor drink, nor be tempted from her bed. It was very sad. I worried she would dehydrate, so resorted to squirting water into her mouth with a dosing syringe. I was pretty sure there was nothing urgent wrong, nothing deemed worthy of a trip to the animal hospital (why do animals always hurt themselves at weekends when the vet is closed?). We decided to wait until today, and book an appointment with her vet.

Gradually, Meg began to get used to the collar. After about 12 hours, she left her bed and walked around, bashing into things. Her solution to the difficulty of not-fitting through gaps due to her expanded width was to try and force her way through things, and she was very difficult to guide/help. But she did go outside to toilet, and she did drink. No food though, not even when I tried to handfeed her.

We are just home from the vet. Meg was clearly in a lot of pain, and actually snarled/growled when she was examined (which is the first time she has ever done that). Her temperature was 42 (should be 38) so there is some kind of infection. She did not keep still (this is an understatement—think ‘trying to contain a hurricane’ and you will get the picture). The vet sent us away with antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and told us to return in a couple of days if no improvement. (Their Xray machine is being fixed, but will be ready on Wednesday. Plus I think he needed recovery time after trying to examine Meg.) He said it might be a broken toe, or a thorn—either way the treatment is the same. If no better on Wednesday they will sedate her (never good, because there are always risks) and do a proper examination. Poor Meg.

I fed her a piece of cheese with her pill. She very quickly managed to separate the two and spit the pill sideways out of her mouth, into the cat bowl. (I think this was a fluke!) I then gave her just the pill (she is very good about me putting things into her mouth) and waited until it was gone.

I took her into the garden and she spent a long time attempting to pick up a log while wearing the plastic cone. We have bought a replacement cone, because I don’t think the current one will survive until Wednesday. Nor, I fear, will the door frames which get thoroughly bashed. I am hoping she gets the hang of her increased width soon.

21/1/2026

Meg is still not used to the added width of the cone (which she is wearing to stop her licking damaged foot). She simply rams it with increasing force at whatever object stands in her way. The cone has a huge crack in it—I doubt it will last more than one more day. Luckily, her foot is healing well. She went back to the vet, who said it was extremely unlikely that anything is broken. She has to continue with her meds (penicillin and anti-inflammatory) but she seems to be doing well. It certainly has not slowed her down, not now she is used to the scary cone (which made her petrified for 12 hours).

25/1/2026

The cone has gone. At least, during the day Meg no longer wears it. This is at partly due to the fact that I could not cope with the pain of it crashing into my legs whenever Meg was trying to force her way past me, or round me, or through me. The hard plastic cone would dig into my leg, causing bruises and pain. Therefore, I made the executive decision that during the day, Meg’s foot is well enough to risk occasional licks. We put the cone back on last night, because I worried the foot might get chewed during the night when no one was watching, but first bash at 7 a.m. this morning, it was removed again. It is entirely possible that Meg realises this and is bashing me on purpose—if so, she has won. Such is life with a GSD.

It is rather wonderful to be able to walk her freely again. I have taken her to the woods a few times, and it brightens my day to watch her bounding through the trees, stick (log) in mouth, tail wagging. Her whole body shows her delight, and it’s contagious, I cannot watch her happiness and not feel the joy myself. Maybe this is why God invented dogs, they teach us what joy is. (And resilience!)

Meg’s Diary: Introducing a Cat

Posted by anneethompson

11/1/2026

Mandy has moved into the house. I have some cats, which originally came from a farm and they have always lived outside. When I have needed to bring them inside (because one is injured) they have been very unhappy, constantly seeking ways to escape. They live in the workshop, and I feed them, take them to the vet for vaccines—just as if they were pets in my home, but they live outside. They do not like Meg, because she chases them. I have tried to stop this, but other than using one of those zappy collars (which seem cruel to me) I can’t think how to train her not to chase them. Luckily they are much faster than her, and can climb trees, so she has never managed to bounce one.

However, several months ago, Mandy left home. I did not see her throughout the whole summer, and I assumed she had either been run over, or had moved home. But then, just before Christmas when the weather turned very cold, I began to see her, in the fields near the house. She wouldn’t come near enough for me to catch her, but she has very distinctive markings, so I was sure it was her. Then one morning, a woman knocked on the door, saying she had found a cat wandering in the lane and planned to take it to the vet (not sure why, as it could have been a feral cat—there are several on the farm)—unless it was mine? It was Mandy. I managed to catch her, and brought her inside.

Now, just before a busy Christmas is not the best time to sort out an animal who wants to live rough. Therefore, after a quick check-over by the vet, I gave her a heated bed and food and water, and left her in the garage. This was fine over Christmas, but she could not live there for ever. I suspect she moved out because she doesn’t like Meg. But it’s not safe for her to live rough, especially in the winter. I am now trying to persuade her to live inside. If I cannot train Meg to not bounce her, and I can’t persuade the cat to be happy inside, then I will have to rehome her. (The cat, not Meg. Although sometimes it’s tempting.) I shall give it my best attempt.

Currently, the cat has her food, water and litter tray in a dog crate, next to the one where Meg sleeps. Whenever Meg is outside, or in the rest of the house with me, the cat is free to wander the kitchen. When Meg is in the kitchen, the cat is shut into her crate. At first there was a lot of hissing, but things have started to settle down.

I had the cat from birth, and she had lots of interaction with Kia, my previous (wonderful) GSD, so she is not scared of dogs per se, just wary of bouncy Meg. Therefore, now she realises Meg cannot reach her in the crate, she simply ignores Meg.

In contrast, Meg is fascinated by the cat. She now chooses to lie, right next to the cat’s crate, poking her nose against the bars. Sometimes the cat slaps her, sometimes they sniff noses. Whenever the cat eats, Meg goes to her own bowl and eats her food. The only times she barks at the cat is if she sees us stroking the cat, so now I am careful not to do that. I am trying to encourage Meg to see the cat as hers, something she needs to protect. I tell her to lie down when she gets bouncy, and I stroke Meg until she is calm.

My plan is to gradually decrease the barriers between them, keeping Meg busy with something so the cat becomes ‘background,’ something normal. Not something exciting to be chased. I don’t think this will transpose to outside, when I am pretty sure Meg will continue to chase anything that moves, but I am hopeful this will be different inside. I will next start with a psychological barrier (the vacuum cleaner—Meg will never step over it, she hates it). Not sure how this will go.

17/1/2026

The cat/Meg combo continues to improve. I am aware that a single mistake, whereby Meg decides to chase the cat, will end the possibility of them both living freely in the house together. But so far, we are making tiny steps in the right direction. They continue to have crates next to each other, and happily sleep/eat with only the bars between them. They seem very relaxed together, although there is usually still a barrier between them.

This week I have allowed them limited time in the same space—always when Meg has been given a ‘mission’ first. This means her focus is on whatever ‘job’ I have given her, and so although she knows the cat is under the table, or on the chair, she ignores her. For example, I will tell Meg we are going in the garden, or to get in the car. Then I open her door, and Meg goes straight to the car/garden, ignoring the cat. So far, so good.

I have also, while I have been in the kitchen, used the vacuum cleaner to divide them. The cat was asleep on the chair, I put the vacuum cleaner on the floor next to her, and released Meg. Meg was perturbed, and kept an eye on the cat, but did not pass the scary cleaner. Eventually she relaxed, and lay down. This gives me hope that I will manage to make the cat ‘boring,’ something to be ignored.

The cat takes no notice of anything. She was born in the garage, and I had read that anything a cat encounters in the first 10 days it will accept, but after that it will never change (which is why a feral cat is always a feral cat, however much it is nurtured in later life). I therefore made sure my kittens encountered as much life as possible in those first 10 days—I vacuumed the garage, Kia my GSD went in regularly and licked them (oh, for a lovely calm GSD again…) they had the radio playing, etc. This means the cat is now very chilled. As long as I can keep her physically safe from Meg, and not allow chasing or bouncing, we should be fine. One thing I learnt is that Meg is jealous. We made the mistake of stroking the cat, and Meg in her crate was very angry and started to bark. I can stroke the cat, but I need to engage Meg first, tell her that I am going to stroke her cat—somehow let her be involved. I don’t know why this makes a difference, but if I talk to Meg throughout the interaction, she seems happy with my stroking or carrying the cat. I try to limit this to a few minutes, and then I go back to Meg and praise her. They cannot become rivals, that would be bad.

April 2026

Unfortunately, the cat now lives outside. Meg and Mandy did cohabit relatively peacefully together, and although they were never alone when unsupervised, they did seem to tolerate each other. However, Mandy decided that my plant pots made better places to poop than her dirt tray. I cannot cope with poop in the house (I was a terrible mother when potty-training my children.) Definitely cannot cope with a dirty cat in the house. We therefore made a safe place in a shed, with a dog-free exit route. Mandy seems happy, and has not returned to her homeless state.

Shame it didn’t work. But that is often how things are with animals. Hope your own plans go well this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Elementary students taking a science test at desks with teacher monitoring

In the Classroom

Posted by anneethompson

I loved teaching. I enjoyed being with children. Perhaps because they were mostly uncomplicated, and very honest, and you could be uncomplicated and honest in return. If they felt cross, they didn’t try to hide it. If they liked or disliked something, it was obvious, there was no pretending. I like that.

But, occasionally, there was a child who was different. A child who was very manipulative, not a team player, completely unmoved by their impact on the other children, very determined to get their own way. As a teacher, you learnt very quickly to spot these children, and to keep an eye on them. They were not to be trusted. ‘What you see is not what you got.’

These children did not believe they were part of the class, the rules did not apply to them. They were sneaky, and tried to avoid being caught misbehaving–passing the blame onto someone else if they could. They would also create distractions. Some children were unsophisticated, if they wanted to divert attention from something they didn’t want you to see (like that they hadn’t learnt the words for the spelling test and therefore had answered incorrectly) they would just yell. Or throw something. Or hurt another child. Anything to divert attention from what they hoped you wouldn’t see–because these children do not like to ‘fail’.

But some of them were more sophisticated, they would create a phantasy, perhaps get another child involved. Perhaps they would ‘fall over’ when walking to the playground–and it would be because ‘Julie pushed,’ not their fault. And then they would be very brave, very forgiving of Julie. As a teacher, you learnt to notice things. The ‘fall’ would look slightly staged. They would ‘recover’ a little too quickly. They might respond in a pre-prepared way: ‘If I hadn’t been told to walk to the playground, and you had let me play in the classroom, this would not have happened.’ There would be something a little ‘off’ about the situation and their reaction. As the teacher, you would try to be aware of what they might be trying to avoid, the reason for the theatrics. As a teacher you would try to not be fooled by the performance. You might ignore the fall (which would anger them) and instead help them with learning spellings. You would try to notice what was actually happening.

Young girl sitting on playground floor crying with injured knee

But I am describing a situation in the classroom. What is more worrying is when I meet or see these people as adults, perhaps as leaders. When they still don’t think the rules apply to them. When they still try to avoid the consequences of their actions by creating a diversion. One which is convincing, yet there is something a little ‘off’ about the situation. Something which makes you wonder what the truth is. I have learnt to listen to my feelings, if something feels ‘off’ it probably is.

In the classroom, these children can be helped–although I am no expert here, and some need specialist help. But they can learn to control their selfishness, they can learn that there are consequences for breaking rules, they can learn not to hurt other people. When they reach adulthood, I’m not so sure… But I’m a teacher, I can only really talk about in the classroom.

I hope your interactions this week are with people who know how to behave. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Anne E Thompson

Author

blog

Artificial Intelligence

A Short Rant

Dear Virgin Media

Not Getting Home

Dear Member of Parliament

A Bad Back

Worrying About Foxes

Meg’s Diary: A Hurt Foot

Meg’s Diary: Introducing a Cat

In the Classroom

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