I really don't need much more music

I am not musically gifted - I wish I were! - and my musical taste is apparently questionable. Or at least many people have told me that I have no discernment. I shrug such comments off. Musical taste is a very personal thing, and I feel that my preferences are as valid as anyone else's. In any case, my aim has mostly been to put together the 'soundtrack of my life', which necessarily includes some things that might make many a proper music buff shudder or cringe. But then, it's my life and my soundtrack, and not theirs. 

And besides, there's an important medical aspect. I rather fancy that, if and when I begin to get senile, playing those tracks of mine will jerk me back into full recollection, and revive sweet or exciting memories. Seriously. 

I am at least open to new musical experiences, and do occasionally admit some strange stuff into my collection. A friend will play something, or I hear it when shopping; I find out what it is and add it. 

Ah, my collection. It's only a small one: 1,851 tracks, all in mp3 format, bought and downloaded and free of playing restrictions, so that I can transfer them easily from one device to another. As they are stored on physical media (primarily the microSD card in my phone) and not streamed, I avoid paying subscriptions to have access. I will always be able to hear my music anytime, anywhere - and forever, so long as I have a charged-up device. 

About a third of those 1,851 tracks were ripped long ago from pop CDs. This was when I had a desktop PC - or a laptop - that could play them. My current laptop, bought in 2016, can't play CDs - and therefore can't copy them. So from 2016 it's been impossible for me to rip music tracks from a CD. But this hasn't been a major concern, because I'd already ripped whatever I needed well before 2016. Indeed, once I'd copied the tracks I wanted, the actual CDs were redundant. I binned them all some time ago, as part of a decluttering exercise. 

The remaining two-thirds of my music collection has mostly been bought online, then downloaded - one at a time, or in small batches - from Amazon. This has been going on for years, but has gradually got more difficult. As chronicled in several posts in recent years, Amazon has long wanted its customers to sign up to one of its subscription packages, and has by degrees made it harder to make small one-off music track purchases. 

More lately an ongoing tussle with Google has made Amazon stop customers buying mp3 tracks using an app on their Android phone. Two giants slugging it out, with the customer as the loser. The current workaround is to use a browser on one's phone or laptop and buy mp3 tracks from Amazon's website - then download them. This done, they can be copied elsewhere. The process - the precise sequence of steps to take - isn't intuitive, but it works. 

Anyway, I have a collection amounting to 1,851 tracks. It includes almost all the music that ever meant anything to me. There must still be tracks from, say, the 1960s or 1970s - or later - that ought to be added, but I'm scratching my head to think of any. I've already got down to the dregs, so to speak. 

So the vast collections of music offered by this or that subscription service have no attraction for me. Nearly all that music would be irrelevant to my personal life-experiences or associations. I dare say that there is much I've never heard that I might find appealing, if I ever explored such a monumental archive. If, that is, I were music-curious and were willing to throw an extraordinary amount of time at it! But I'm not music-curious, and don't have oodles of time, and I'm unwilling to pay an ongoing monthly fee for something I might never get round to doing.  

It strikes me anyway that you can have too much music. I listen to my own small collection every day, a few tracks at a time, and it takes me 190-odd days (that is, over six months) to hear all 1,851 tracks, playing them in alphabetical song-title order. If I had 3,500 tracks, it might therefore take me a year to hear them all just once. What then would be the point of a collection of 10,000 tracks, so that I'd get to hear each one only once every three years? 

So I think it must be a waste of money to pay for streamed access to millions of tracks. It would take too many lifetimes to get even reasonable value from the ongoing outlay. How could anyone trawl through even a small fraction of the music available? Surely, just as there is an upper limit on the number of close friends you can pay proper attention to, so there is only so much time and appreciation and proper attention you can give to music. 

I suppose - not being a passionate music lover - I am missing the point. What I can say is that any search for music on Amazon seems to throw up a lot of dross. It would be galling to discover that this is general for most of the many millions of tracks in Amazon's music archive. I don't want to waste my life - and money - dipping endlessly into the boring or second-rate. 

Need I say it? Not one of my 1,851 tracks is boring or second-rate to me. And if you were me, you'd agree. 

1,234,567

Here's a bit of Boxing Day trivia. The accumulated viewings on my blog have just reached 1,234,567. 

The total has been slowly edging towards this figure since Christmas Eve. I do wonder that some people have turned away from their seasonal festivities to check my blog out, but whoever you are, I salute you. It's been fun to see the viewing total get closer and closer to this magic sequence of digits - although it also argues a certain amount of obsession in myself, not only to be watching, but to actually capture the precise moment in this screenprint:

There was of course a sporting element in taking this unrepeatable screenshot. Very appropriate for Boxing Day! Some dash into the cold sea. Some play special games of football. Me, I poise my finger over the laptop keyboard - to be ready for a screenprint at exactly the right moment, before a reader moves the total on. 

The actual viewing total doesn't matter. I gave up the numbers game a long time ago. In the early days of this blog - in the first four years from 2009 say - it was fascinating to see how the readership gathered pace, as evidenced by the viewing totals. I suppose I was a new kid on the block, with a story to tell, and interests to reveal, and attitudes to explain. Some of those posts got me into difficulties. I was sometimes trolled by hate groups, or by individuals with a bee in their bonnet. I learned to be more careful, and that kind of attention faded. I was also, for a time, targeted by people on the lookout for blogs with growth potential, wanting me to sign up to advertising deals. I ignored them, not wishing to forfeit total control over what I wrote. 

I would say the blog was most read about eight years ago, around 2014. But after then readership began to fall off a bit, as I made the topic coverage more general. In any case by 2018 blogs - though still popular - were considered old hat. Newer things had arrived. Even so, my own viewings continued to accumulate, albeit more gradually, reaching the one million mark in April 2020. And then a further 234,567 viewings in the thirty-two months since - although you can justly remark that an average of only 7,000-odd viewings per month in recent times isn't impressive! No, of course it's not; but it's enough to make me feel that I'm producing something of interest to others, and not merely sending my posts out into an empty void. 

Even if I were writing into thin air, and almost nobody read my posts, blogging would still be a pleasant activity, and in its way a creative outlet. Besides, I find it useful to write about any current problems that vex or worry me. It's a way of sharing the problem, and getting it into proportion. And putting together a coherent post about the issue of the day helps to sort out what the best solution might be. Most recently, that tussle with OVO; and now the probability of spending yet more money on my ageing car.

The noteworthy thing is how posts on personal problems still get attention from readers. Perhaps they strike a chord. Maybe my problems are the kind that many people have to cope with.

The blog also showcases some of my photos, and surely these must add to the appeal of many a post. But I remain convinced that those who read this blog, and those who look at my Flickr site, are two quite separate groups. Despite the direct links to Flickr, and the 53,000 pictures that await anyone curious, I very much doubt whether any blog reader ever follows those links. Oh well.  

Next February my blog will be fourteen years old. But I have no plans to wind it up. Indeed, I would miss it. I hope others feel the same.

Fiona gets a new propshaft

Back in November and December 2015 I wrote a spate of posts about my car Fiona's transmission woes. I'd owned her for five and a half years and had covered over 80,000 miles. I'd driven her with verve and spirit - she's an enjoyable car to drive - and she had worked hard, towing my caravan to distant spots several times a year. 

I'd treated her as indestructible. She was, after all, a Volvo, a big top-spec XC60. But of course she wasn't immune from gradual wear and tear, and as the end of 2015 approached, her automatic gearbox complained. After inspection, I had to face the bad news: I'd worn that gearbox out. It was replaced. A year later, in 2016, the complicated rear differential (Fiona had all-wheel drive) also complained. That too was replaced. 

Although a bit worn when the gearbox was replaced in 2015, the propshaft that connected the front-end gearbox with the rear-end differential was still serviceable, and was re-used to limit my expenditure. It was still good in 2016. But now, in December 2022, its time had come.

I've just had Fiona back from surgery. The old propshaft, with its clunky loose joints, has been replaced with a smooth-turning shiny new one. The particular transmission wobble and vibration effects that prompted a visit to the Volvo dealer have gone. But now some other symptoms, previously masked, have emerged. They suggest to me that I may have gearbox trouble on my hands again. 

I'm not panicking. There's the suspicion of gear-change judder when picking up speed in certain circumstances. That's a sign that the automatic gearbox is finding it harder than usual to change up. It could simply be that the gearbox fluid is past its best, as can happen if a car does a lot of city driving or towing. The fluid heats up and deteriorates faster than normal. And if the internal components of the gearbox have worn, there may be an accumulation of metallic gunge in the fluid that inhibits its hydraulic functions. I've been consciously kinder to Fiona's gearbox since 2015, avoiding the kind of press-on high-speed towing that caused its early demise. But even so, I am now wondering whether, after a further 100,000-odd miles, it could be time for another gearbox replacement. 

I earnestly hope not. After a year of constant big expenses of one kind or another, my finances need time to recover. A new gearbox, if needed, would be a £6,000 hit. 

The first thing to do is change the gearbox fluid. The original Volvo service recommendation back in 2010 was to leave the fluid alone if the car were normally used, as it should last the lifetime of the gearbox without replenishment. Otherwise, if the car were heavily used for city driving or towing, to change the fluid at 36,000 mile intervals - in effect, at every third annual service. But some years back I was told by a service manager that this was only a very rough guide. I could get away with a fluid change every four years. So the completely virgin fluid poured into the new gearbox in 2015 was not drained and replaced until 2019. Another drain-and-replace operation was planned for Fiona's 2023 annual service in early March. But since 2019 I've had more long-range caravan holidays than ever before. I'm now wondering about the current state of the gearbox fluid. It might well be overdue for a refresh. 

I love my caravan holidays. They take me to lovely places far away, and let me visit distant friends. For me, the average nightly pitching fee in 2022 - the average of 95 nights away - was only £18. And it certainly wasn't all low-season.

Once you have bought your car and caravan, it's a very cheap way to have a touring holiday. But you do need a big, powerful car to tow the caravan. And big-car ownership is not a poor person's game. Regular heavy costs have to be expected as such a car gets older. Some of these costs will seem shocking. 

But then, if I were to replace Fiona with a brand-new diesel Volvo XC60 B4, it would currently cost me £53,565 to purchase outright (so that I own it), or £769 per month (that's £9,228 a year) on a three-year 'subscription' (i.e. a PCP, so that I never own it), customised so that I can cover up to 16,000 miles a year, typical for me. 

Compared to those amounts, a few thousand pounds spent at intervals on servicing and replacement parts, to keep Fiona on the road indefinitely, seems by a wide margin the more affordable course. 

Let's hope a straightforward gearbox fluid change will do the trick. And then only a three-year gap to the next one.

OVO - a great result

Someone from OVO phoned me today to confirm that my complaint was being looked at, and that I should hear more - probably another phone call - quite soon. But possibly it would be the other side of the approaching weekend. So no gas meter reading correction just yet. Still, something was promised. I asked for priority if possible, being a worried old soul, living on her tod. Poor dear.

Well, around 6.00pm tonight I checked the OVO Energy app on my phone, not expecting to see anything different. Imagine my surprise to find that my current credit balance had shot back up to £967, where it should be! Hurrah!

I delved a little into how they had arrived at that. It seemed OK. 

Well thank you, OVO. Consider yourself reinstated in my regard.

The app tells me that my current daily consumption in this unusually cold weather is costing around £12 a day, split roughly £2 for electricity (for 5kWh) and £10 for gas (for 100kWh). 

The gas is high because the central heating is on from 7.00am to 11.00pm - 16 hours.  I want to stay as warm as possible. The gas is also high because I cook with it twice a day, unless out and about.

So: I have £967 in hand. To be augmented by three monthly payments of £186 before the end of March (that's £558 to add on). 31st March is 107 days away. If every one of those 107 days is as cold as now, my energy charges will be 107 x £12 per day = £1,284. Which means that as I begin April, I would have £967 plus £558 less £1,284 = £241 credit in hand. 

But the winter won't be uniformly severe. If any significant part of it is milder, then my credit balance on 31st March will be higher. I'm presently guessing it will be at least £350. 

New energy charges come into force on 1st April - higher ones - but spring will be here, and in any case I'll be off on the first of my caravan holidays, and not using more than a trickle of energy at home. So my credit balance will quickly build up again, ready for next winter.

Well, that's the plan!

Rag Mama Rag

Readers with long memories may recall that in March 2016 I made a rag rug, and posted about it - see Very validating on 31st March 2016. The 'validating' refers to actually doing something worthwhile in the 'domestic skills' sphere, as if by making this rug I had now qualified in some way as a Household Superwoman. 

Well, that's how it felt! But rag rugs are simple to make; and, if I'm objective about it, mine wasn't especially impressive. Still, I did it all without assistance, entirely on my own. It was my very first effort. And however dismissive some genuine Superwomen might be, it was - to me - a personal triumph that I could feel very happy with. 

Did I say rag rugs are simple to make? Indeed they are. All you need is a hessian base, and a sufficient quantity of fabric that you can cut into little strips and then pull them, one by one, into the weave of the hessian base with a special tool. These strips gradually build into a soft rug. You can have a broad design, as mine had, but the fabric strips don't allow fine detail, and it's useless to aim for an elaborate pattern. I bought brightly coloured cotton fabric in yellow, white, green and two shades of blue. This was for a simple seaside scene, suitable for my bathroom floor. Here are some shots from 2016, to show how the rug progressed from the first moment:

I started on 5th March 2016, and by 19th March the rug was sufficiently finished to show to friends. Here I am, outside a pub on the Cotswolds, displaying the rug to my friend Angie:

There was more work yet. I needed to sew on a hessian backing, to hide the 'workings' so to speak. I'd done this by 27th March, embellishing the backing with a 'Lucy-Lou' logo.

It was Rag Rug No. 1. I anticipated making at least one more, although this never happened. Not very long afterwards, on 20th April 2016, I showed it to a friend in North Devon, Jayne. She had inspired me to attempt making a rag rug in the first place. She professed to be impressed, although her dog Callie gave no sign of high excitement. 

So this was a definitive shot of the fully-completed rug:

It's meant to show the sea breaking on the yellow sand of a beach, with a grassy headland as the background, and in the sky a yellow sun, and a wisp of cloud to echo the breaking wave on the shore. 

My existing bathroom mat was still serviceable, so I put my newly-made rag rug away until needed. That moment came in November 2019, almost four years later. The old bathroom mat had been attractive, but the rubber backing was starting to disintegrate. So I binned it, and got out the rag rug. It made a nice bright splash of colour in the bathroom!

Roll on three years to this month, December 2022. By now the rag rug definitely needed washing. I'd held off doing that because I wasn't sure how best to clean it. I thought a hand wash might be better than popping it into the washing machine, in case any of the umpteen fabric strips came adrift. On the other hand, handwashing it would be laborious and messy. Finally consulting Jackie next door, she loaned me a large drawstring bag, which would hold the rug together while sloshing around in my washing machine. A short, low-temperature wash, of course.

Well, here goes!

The wash was a success. It had to be only a gentle spin, and so the rug was still very damp coming out of the machine. I let it drip for a while in the bathroom, then draped it over this drying frame, and ultimately over the lounge radiator.

Once dry, the pile was fluffed up and springy again, just like it was when first made. I was relieved. I'd feared damage of some kind. But it was all right. And it looked good once more on the bathroom floor.

In fact it's now too good for the bathroom floor, which is vinyl and quite old, and has become cracked and dingy. It would be a simple thing to buy another length of vinyl and cut it to fit around the washbasin pedestal and other bits. But until I can kneel down again, there is no way I can tackle such a job myself.  

Chatting to OVO, with a promising outcome

Some better news today on the OVO problem. 

A further three days had gone by since my second email. Should I now send a third, but to somebody high up in their organisation? Maybe not yet? Instead I decided to see whether I could actually speak to somebody - well, live-message them anyway. 

So it was back to their Complaints webpage, but this time to have a chat. As expected, there was a queue. I began with 82 people in front of me. That would whittle down, and while it did I washed the dishes. I looked in at the laptop screen every few minutes, to see whether the queue was getting shorter. It was. After 20 minutes, I was only 19th in the queue.

It was time to watch the screen closely and be ready. After waiting for 50 minutes altogether, a 'ding' sound came from my laptop, to signal that it was now my turn. It began with a couple of clearly standard questions that asked me for my name, address and account number, and how OVO could help. These might have been posed automatically by a chatbot, or otherwise by a human pressing a button or two. I pictured a busy operative dealing with several callers simultaneously, and needing some standard opening sentences at his or her fingertips. Whatever, we were off!

The response to my (hopefully) succinct summary of what was wrong told me that my first email - maybe both emails - had been read by this person, and that someone else at OVO had been asked to examine my gas readings afresh. The initial response to the question I next asked, about when there would be a result, rather confirmed that the people on Complaints deal with multiple cases at the same time. (I wondered how many - a dozen?)

A 'five working day' wait? Why not an instant fix? It now looked as if I'd get an incorrect bill in the next few days, which would have to be amended. Would that happen without a nudge from me?

It was time to end the conversation. I'd established that something was being done to put matters right, and I'd stressed that I lived alone, was elderly, and therefore 'vulnerable'. I hoped this status would put me on OVO's 'priority list' and protect me from any automatic drastic action they might impose if ever another future mistake on their part generated a spurious payment deficit in my account. I'd heard that 'bad payers' could be sanctioned by imposing a prepayment meter - but not if 'vulnerable'. It seemed wise to guard against this possibility, even though I had always been a good, well-behaved customer of SSE's, and intended to be so with OVO.

A friend has now told me that 'five working days' is a standard promise. Perhaps it will be sooner. I'll be checking my credit balance daily on the OVO Energy app until I see that it's been fully reinstated.

The same friend is with Octopus Energy, and she is trying out a regime whereby she gets paid for avoiding peak-time electricity usage, which will take the strain off the National Grid. It sounds very interesting, although as it happens I use a lot more gas than electricity. I have fewer electrical appliances than most households, and use them sparingly, so my energy usage profile is untypical. Still, Octopus might be the natural alternative to OVO if I feel any ongoing dissatisfaction after this present issue is resolved.

I did ask for a transcript of our conversation, something I've had before when chatting to mobile phone companies like BT Mobile and EE. But apparently OVO can't do that. Never mind - I took screenprints with my laptop. 

Finally, am I going to abandon my claim for compensation? 

Six days ago, OVO's error set my heart beating fast in consternation. I'd been robbed of over £500 credit - important money: it was my cushion against big gas bills this winter. OVO had upset me and made me worry. Then there was the trouble and effort of getting them to put things right. The stress of this actually showed up in my FitBit record - I'd developed a higher resting heart rate, surely only a temporary effect, but not good all the same.  

I'd asked for £56 at first in compensation, and hadn't yet raised that figure. Was it worth powder and shot? The claim (and why) would remain on OVO's record, a stain that couldn't be removed. If I didn't pursue the question of compensation now, this mistake and its consequences would still reinforce any future claim. 

I will see what happens now. If OVO put things right quickly and correctly I'll let it go. If not, I can make a fuss. 

The continuing OVO saga

Three days have passed since my email to OVO, complaining about the sudden loss of £567 credit on my new gas account, with no acknowledgement yet. The remedy is really simple - substituting one meter reading for another, which will correct it all. 

It's a bad beginning with OVO. 

I have worked out what the correct opening meter reading must have been, and have now handed the solution to this very worrying error to OVO on a plate, so to speak, in another email. Plus attachments - screenshots from their own records - in support of what I say. They won't have to think. 

I have also warned them that inaction will lead to escalation and a higher claim to compensation. Starting with my December bill, due within a week. If that shows that the £567 hasn't been restored, then I will up the stakes.

I am quite sure that, bad as this is, there are cases that are much, much worse. But £567 is still large enough to make a great fuss over. 

This is my second email, three days in:

COMPLAINT ABOUT A GROSSLY INCORRECT (AND IMPOSSIBLE) OPENING GAS METER READING - Account XXXX0149 - Miss Lucy Melford

Dear OVO Energy

Three days ago on 6th December I sent you an email complaining about your using a wrong opening gas meter reading for 15th November, when my gas account migrated from SSE to yourselves. I haven't had an acknowledgement yet. That's not good. I am a vulnerable customer - I live alone, and I'm aged 70 years. Your mistake has worried me considerably, and I have raised the matter of compensation for the distress. But first I want you to correct the error.

SSE's final smart meter reading on 14th November (copy attached) was 11930. Your own smart meter reading on 16th November was 11961. So the meter reading on 15th November MUST have fallen between 11930 and 11961. I think it was 11955 (see below). But you are presently using a strange (and obviously impossible) reading of 11428. The effect of this is to drastically reduce the credit balance I'd carefully built up on my gas account by about £567. I want that restored.

The simple remedy is for you to substitute 11955 for 11428 for 15th November. That will correct my gas consumption record, and increase my credit balance to between £800 and £900 - and then back over £1,000, once tomorrow's £186 monthly direct debit payment has gone through. 

How do I arrive at 11955? Well, your own smart meter readings for 15th November - taken every half an hour (screenshots attached) - show a total gas consumption for the day of 66.64 kWh, which equates to 6 meter units. The meter reading for the next day, 16th November, was 11961. It follows that the reading for 15th November would have been 11961 less 6 = 11955. 

As I said, I was very upset by the sudden loss of £567 credit, and in my email three days ago I claimed a small amount of compensation for the immediate distress, and of course there is now the ongoing worry. I claimed £56, which is 10% of £567. Not in cash - I am happy if you merely credit it to my account. But I do now ask that you put matters right quickly. If you have not done so before my December bill is sent, I will ask for more. And if matters drag on, and the worry about that missing credit continues, then I will feel justified in increasing my claim. And indeed escalating this. 

This is not a happy beginning. Please do the right thing.

Lucy Melford 

Still no response twelve hours later, to either this or the original email three days ago. The weekend is now upon us, so presumably I'll have to wait until Monday 12th at the earliest for some action. Sigh. 

OVO messes up

Until 14th November this year, SSE was my electricity and gas supplier. From 15th November, OVO Energy took over. OVO had absorbed SSE during the previous months, and by 15th November were ready to open a new account for me, with SSE's electricity and gas balances duly transferred. I had emails from SSE explaining what would happen and promising a smooth transition, with great service to come from OVO. I was going to be in good hands. 

As soon as OVO said they were ready, I visited their website and registered myself, then downloaded their phone app. It seemed that all was well. I'd had a big credit balance with SSE, which I'd built up with the coming winter in mind, and there it was on the OVO website, and also on their app. Indeed, I was rather impressed with the wealth of detail OVO made available about my daily electricity and gas consumption in kWh, and what it cost. I had a smart meter, and they could monitor my energy consumption with half-hourly readings. 

At the same time, I kept up my long-standing practice of personally taking manual meter readings every Friday morning, and putting those on a spreadsheet. This spreadsheet was set up to convert the units I read off into kWh, and then work out what the theoretical monthly cost would be for the last week, VAT included, matching this against my current direct debit payments to SSE - and now OVO - so that I could see to whether my likely monthly bill would be less, or more, than my current monthly payment. My electricity consumption didn't vary much with passing months; it was only a bit more in the winter. But my gas consumption fluctuated from very little in the summer - or when I was away caravanning - to quite a lot when home in the winter. I knew the pattern. My spreadsheet revealed it very clearly. 

I didn't only make this weekly review. SSE's phone app made it easy to see what my current balance was, and I checked that several times a week, to see what my credit balance was. Lately I'd done the same with the OVO app. 

As expected, my big credit balance ex-SSE had dwindled somewhat with rising gas consumption - the central heating is on most of the day just now - but until yesterday it was all going to plan. I'd pitched my current monthly payments to OVO so as to gradually reduce my credit balance from over £1,100 on 15th November to around £500 by next April. I'd then maintain it at that level. 

I hope you can see that I've had my finger on my energy consumption and costs. Yesterday my credit balance - despite very chilly weather outside - was still £902, with a monthly payment coming soon, which would bump it back up to over £1,000. 

But earlier tonight I had a shock.

Glancing at my OVO app on my phone, I saw that the credit balance was suddenly down to only £318. 

What? This was almost heart-stopping. And a blow to my planning, monitoring, and the general care I've been taking not to over-heat my home. In fact, I felt a bit wobbly and my heart beat fast. How could I have mismanaged things so? This was extremely worrying!

I delved into the app. Aha - there seemed to be a massive overcharge for the very first 'OVO' day, 15th November. I took screenshots of what my phone showed me. 

I then fired up the website to see the position more clearly, taking screenprints off my laptop. Yes, it was all to do with the opening meter reading transferred from SSE. They'd got the right one, but had then substituted an incorrect lower reading from somewhere. It must have happened overnight. The solution was to reinstate the correct meter reading. 

But how? More fast heartbeats. I was trying to navigate the OVO website, not a thing to do when you need fast answers. I didn't realise at first that I had to keep scrolling down their 'Help and Support' page to find ways of contacting them to explain what had happened and to get a rapid remedy. Eventually I got there. 

Really, a gross error had been made, and I needed to go straight in with a written complaint, So I composed an email that went as follows:

Account XXXX0149 - GROSSLY INCORRECT OPENING GAS METER READING - Miss Lucy Melford

Dear OVO Energy

Looking at your phone app, and then at your website, I have discovered a big error in the Gas meter reading brought forward from the SSE Final Bill. The Gas meter reading should be 11930, which is the figure appearing in SSE's Final Bill.  

At the moment you are using an opening meter reading of 11428, and this somehow converts into an extraordinary Gas consumption on 15th November of 5,847.59 kWh, whereas your own records show it was actually only 66.64 kWh. The attached screenprints from your website reveal the error. I also attach a screenprint of SSE's final bill.  

Would you please correct the position and restore the large credit balance on my account, which I think ought to be - as of today - in the region of £885. Please ensure that this correction is made before the upcoming December bill is sent to me. 

I have to say that seeing my current balance shrink to only £318.46 was a shock that sent my 70 year old heart racing. I would like you to make a goodwill gesture in compensation for the upset. You 'robbed' me of £885 less £318 = £567. I think a goodwill payment of 10% of that - £56 - would be in order. I don't mind if you simply credit it on my account.  

Lucy Melford

Effectively, OVO were depriving me of £567. Not a good start to our acquaintance. The 'Miss' in the heading will tell them I've no husband to assist me, and as you can see I'm shamelessly playing the Age Card. But then I really am on my own, and I really am getting elderly, and therefore can claim to be a vulnerable customer.  

Hopefully this email will quickly do the trick, and get SSE's closing gas meter reading reinstated, restoring my large credit balance, and making me breathe a big sigh of relief. OVO have messed up. The harm done is small so far, but even so I feel well justified in asking for a small amount by way of compensation for the consternation and worry they caused me. If they delay their response, or compound their error in any way, then I will be further annoyed and will ask for correspondingly more compensation. 

I don't want things to escalate, but if they do then I might well try getting a spot on LBC's Consumer Hour at 9.00pm on Friday nights, where consumer lawyer Dean Dunham advises on how to proceed with cases like this. I don't think it's a big enough mistake for BBC Radio 4's You and Yours, but I could bear it in mind.

I used to be the kind of person who would never stand up for my rights in private life. Not nowadays! Experience has made me assertive beyond my nature. 

Next morning (Wednesday 7th December)

This is interesting. OVO's phone app does show historic gas meter readings for the SSE era, back to the start of 2022. Here they are, in a screenshot:

I didn't notice this yesterday. Well, it simply goes to reinforce, indeed prove, my point. If the SSE smart meter reading on 14th November was 11930, and OVO's smart meter reading on 16th November was 11961, the reading for 15th November - the opening reading for the OVO era - couldn't possibly have been 11428. OVO should have spotted that 11428 was wrong. 

I wondered where they got 11428 from. It would have been an SSE-era meter reading way back in March. My own meter readings spreadsheet showed that I'd noted down that very figure, 11428, on 18th March. But this was for a private record, never discussed or shown to SSE or OVO. So how did OVO come to use 11428 later on? It's a remarkable coincidence and most mysterious. I suspect human error somewhere, either in some belated manual review of opening data, or in setting up an algorithm to do that job. 

It all just goes to show that despite sticking with a big provider, and despite promises of great customer service, errors will occur, and you have to be alert to them. And it's also wise to keep independent records of one's own.

One day on (Thursday 8th December)

Hmm. It's breakfast-time. No response yet from OVO, and my current credit balance has reduced to £306. My complaint hasn't even been acknowledged, although that might mean it's in a queue, yet to be seen and addressed by a human being. Maybe - even as I write - a fix is already in hand, pending a decision on my claim for a little compensation for the fright they gave me. Still, some kind of acknowledgement in the interim would be nice, so that I definitely know that something will happen. 

I can't believe that a big company like OVO would behave badly over this. SSE, pretty big themselves, never gave me any trouble. But maybe I've been lucky hitherto, and that luck has now run out.  Glancing at SSE-to-OVO issues reported on the Internet isn't reassuring. A number of people have been hit by clearly-wrong OVO bills, and have found it hard to get them corrected. Oh dear.

Of neck-warmers, neck-gaiters, snoods and possibly wimples

Neck warmers are definitely 'in' this winter, although I don't suppose they have ever been 'out'. This said, I've not been aware of them in their current form before. But I now have one. 

What is a neck warmer? It's a short tube of fabric, woven or knitted, woollen or man-made fibre, that fits loosely around one's neck, to keep it warm more efficiently than a scarf will. And unlike a scarf, there is nothing that hangs down your front, to get tangled with your bag strap, or indeed your camera strap, or (if you walk in the country) will catch on thorn bushes or barbed-wire fences. It's a neater garment entirely, and doesn't require constant adjustment. 

I arrived at my cousin Rosemary's yesterday, and she immediately showed me one that her local friend Anne had knitted for her. This Anne has been making them for Christmas. Rosemary too is now making them. She urged me to try hers on, to see if I liked it. I did, and was surprised to find that I liked it very much, particularly as it was in various shades of grey, and went with my coat perfectly. Actually, it would go with nearly all my coats and jackets. 

Rosemary said she had plenty of wool, and could knit me one in a bright colour very quickly. I thanked her, but said I'd rather have a grey one like the one I still had on. Whereupon she said, 'Have that then.' 'Really? Are you sure?' 'Absolutely. I've made another for myself, a blue one, and can easily make more.' 'OK, I'll gladly accept this one, and thank you very much indeed!'  

Thus it was that we set off for Canterbury in Fiona, both wearing a neck-warmer. Here I am, after lunch, outside the Fenwick department store loo, taking two shots in a big mirror to show what my grey neck-warmer looks like:

And here's a shot of Rosemary wearing hers, when later on we had tea and cake at our favourite place in Canterbury, Tiny Tim's Tea Room. This picture gives you a somewhat better idea of what the thing looks like:

It hangs around your neck in a series of folds, and it's perfectly possible to pull it up at the back and bring it over you head, to form a kind of hood, so that your ears are protected and well as your neck. It's rather more stylish than a balaclava helmet would be.

You can buy these neck-warmers ready-made in outdoor shops, especially just now, or you can knit them at home. Rosemary has texted me the knitting instructions, which go as follows (in her words):

Neck warmer

About 100 gms chunky yarn.

(You can use double knit putting two strands together. )

Using 6mm or 6.5ml needles depending on tension cast on 77 stitches. Do 4 rows in garter stitch then change to stocking stitch until knitting measures 11.5 inches. Do 4 more rows garter stitch then cast off. Sew sides together to make a tube. Job done - simple. 

I imagine most women can turn out a home-made version in a jiffy. I can't, never having acquired much in the way of domestic skills. Kirche, Küche und Kinder were never my thing.  

The neck warmer Rosemary gave me carried a whiff of perfume - pleasant, but I prefer no fragrance at all - and so I've given it a quick hand-wash and it will soon be dry and ready to wear again. And none too soon - it's perishing cold outside! 

These things go under other names. I've seen neck-gaiter, which sounds odd to me. And they are also called snoods, although I thought that a snood was a longish loop of fabric, very much like a scarf with the ends joined together, Or at least that was what the snood I bought at Debenhams in Taunton on 7th November 2011 looked like. It was a very chilly day, and I hadn't brought a scarf along, so I was very glad to buy a snood instead. It cost £20, which is about £28 in 2022 money. This is what it looked like. These shots were taken five days later at Tyntesfield and Clevedon Pier:

As you can see, it was voluminous! Because of that, and because beige wasn't an exciting colour, I reverted to ordinary scarves after a while, if I wore a scarf at all. Somehow a scarf seemed easier to wear, despite its length and the way scarves flap about in the wind. I think my new neck-warmer will be easier still, with that hood capability as an extra.

It strikes me as funny that the word 'snood' - which sounds so medieval - should still have currency, especially when it might be made of a high-tech material nowadays. I await the revival of the wimple!

Finally, I can't resist revisiting my 2021 write-up of one of the accessories that came with my previous Leica camera, the X-U. See my post The X-U - part 2 on 28th August 2021. This was a bright blue neoprene tube, with drawstrings at each end, plus toggles. It was meant to be a multi-purpose thing.  It could obviously be drawn over the camera, to protect it from dust or smoke, or to hide the fact that I was carrying a Leica around:  

And I also (rather facetiously) suggested that it could be used to fend off strong sunshine, or chill winds, by being worn around the neck:

But I'm not so sure now that this was as ludicrous as I thought. Maybe the neoprene tube was meant to be a neck-warmer, among its many other possible uses. Even so, surely not as cosy as the one I have now. 

Riding the furthest north train from Georgemas Junction

This year's five-week Scottish Caravan Holiday was obviously rather special. It took me to the northernmost tip of Northern Scotland, and then further north to Orkney. I made the most of it. I took 6,500 photos during that five weeks, most of them while in Scotland itself, and the bulk of them way up north. It's fair to say that Scotland has an enduring appeal for me, despite its cooler weather and its many remote parts. 

I'd go so far as to say that, despite being Welsh, I'd much prefer to move to Scotland if ever I were forced to leave Sussex. Whether that would be wise - considering my age, likely medical needs, and the fact that I would essentially be going into virtual exile - is something to be considered very carefully. But I've already placed certain parts of Scotland onto a shortlist. Northern Scotland is top of it, and within that broad region the Moray Firth (with Inverness handy) would be the most sensible choice. But having seen what is up there, I think I should think seriously about Orkney too. 

It struck me that people who move to such parts are looking for an enhanced quality of life. Space, fresh air and fine unspoiled scenery; plenty of wildlife; outdoor activities of all kinds; a rich cultural legacy; and modern facilities within easy reach - provided one has access to fast main roads and the towns. If I moved there, I would soon establish myself in the local scene. I'd make many new friends. I like good food and art and history - well, there's plenty of that. I'd be in my photographic element. To cap it all, house prices are modest: I could sell up in Sussex, buy a very nice place indeed - and of course a new car - and still have plenty of cash left in the bank. 

Mind you, in view of the distances involved, I might have to get used to flying, something I'm not so keen on. But as far as I can see that's the only downside for a retired but active lady of leisure, who would still want to visit places down south on a regular basis. Still, for years to come - given all that money in the bank - I could afford to make long trips in that new car, with comfortable overnight stops to smooth over the wear and tear of travel. 

It sounds as if I've made up my mind! No, it's just a possibility. I like Sussex, and at present there's no reason whatever to uproot myself. 

But undeniably, there are times in one's life when uprooting oneself is exactly the right thing to do. I met a forty-something person who had done just this, when riding a train in Caithness on 16th September. 

A train in Caithness? Yes, I'm talking about a short section of the Far North Line, which starts in Inverness, and proceeds through Dingwall, Invergordon, Tain, Lairg, Golspie and Helmsdale to Georgemas Junction, where it goes sideways on a branch line to Thurso, the most northerly mainland town in Scotland, then returns to Georgemas Junction, and carries on to Wick, the terminus. I'd called by in Fiona at Georgemas Junction, just to see the station again, and had discovered that very shortly one of the four daily trains from Wick was due to stop there. It would go first to Thurso, return to Georgemas Junction, and then proceed southwards to Inverness. 

Well, this was a chance to ride on the most northern section of line in Great Britain! It might never recur. I grasped the opportunity. However pointless it might seem, I would catch this train, ride on it to Thurso, then come straight back. Just for the hell of it. It would be an experience. Perhaps it was something that very few people ever did. But that only enhanced its appeal.

I had ten minutes or so to wait. I contemplated Georgemas Junction. It was, by the way, quite familar. I'd come here before, in 2010, then again in 2019. It's in an exposed position in the midst of open countryside, with no town or village nearby. The nearest place is Halkirk, nearly two miles distant by road. Adjacent is a yard for loading or unloading heavy freight, such as lengths of pipeline and timber, and nuclear waste from Dounreay. Originally Georgemas Junction had two platforms, linked by a footbridge. This was so in 2010. But in 2012 one of the passenger platforms was sacrificed to allow the installation of a freight siding and a modern lifting gantry. I saw that change on my last visit in 2019. I don't think these extra facilities have seen much use. 

The remaining passenger platform hasn't seen many travellers either. Apparently the regular pre-Covid usage was 1,500-odd passengers a year - a little less than 30 per week, or maybe 5 per day. You wonder who they could have been! The train service is, however, rather good, as each of the four daily trains to and from Wick calls twice at the junction, in order to visit Thurso. So that makes 4 x 2 x 2 = 16 trains stopping there each day from Monday to Saturday, easily the best train service in Caithness. And the trains have to stop. On each occasion the driver gets out of his cab to move the Thurso points - I saw him do this.  

As for passenger facilities, there is a free car park, a bicycle rack, some information boards, and a modern but draughty shelter. I'd hate to be waiting here for a late-running train on a winter evening!

Here are some 2022 views. 

Left, the line to all parts south. Right, the branch line to Thurso. Centre, the ground frame that the train driver operates, to set the road for Thurso or the south.

That station house, mostly boarded up now, is a time capsule. There are still dusty windows you can peer through and see inside. Within, a scene that hasn't changed for decades, with posters dating from the 1980s. The station house must be used for something - see those first-floor windows in good order, and there are some electrical fittings inside too. But the guard on the train I caught told me that he had never yet seen anybody inside that building. A mystery then. 

Perhaps there is the hope that a private person will one day buy the station house and turn it into a home. People do. Here's an example, seen in 2019 at Watten, further up the line on the final run into Wick:  

It was another occasion when a train was due, and I just happened to stop by at the right moment to see it - although it would simply rumble through here and not stop, as Watten station closed long ago, in 1960. But you can still see the old platforms. People who live so close to the railway are often rail enthusiasts, or have some past connection to the railway, and embellish their gardens with railway paraphernalia, and generally preserve any surviving features. 

I got fine shots of the train as it came through, Wick-bound.

These station houses certainly get a really close-up trackside view, a pleasant amenity here. Not so pleasant next to a busy main line further south, though. How would you get any good sleep? 

Back to my contemplation of Georgemas Junction.

It's all neat and tidy, but despite the sunshine a trifle bleak, and as the minutes passed I debated whether to wait in Fiona or stick it out in the cold. The spartan shelter provided precious little comfort. I was very glad of my gloves and woolly hat!

Aha! I spy with my little eye something beginning with T.

The guard hopped out, and I asked him whether I could buy a ticket to Thurso and back, the important point being whether the train would drop me off and reunite me with Fiona. Yes, I could, and it would. So I hopped aboard, and into the delicious warmth inside.

Now where to sit? The train had started from Wick almost empty, and I had an enormous choice. I was feeling rather excited. This was such an adventure!

I selected a seat facing forwards on the right-hand (platform) side of the carriage. 

We were about to depart. Oh dear, there was Fiona. Would she be all right? What were the chances that somebody would visit Georgemas Junction while I was gone, and do harm to her, or steal her? Actually, the chances were desperately slim. So be it. I promised my beloved car that I would return and rescue her. But she looked positively forlorn as the train moved off.

Meanwhile the guard came to my seat to sell me the return tickets. Here he is. 

We got into conversation. We had plenty of time. I asked him his name: James. 'That's a good Scottish name,' I replied. Actually, he said, he was from Bristol, and had moved up to Inverness a little while back. Turning forty, he had suddenly felt too old for the young-professional kind of city life, stuck in an office, and had yearned for something different - a predominantly outdoor occupation in wild countryside. His Far North Line job was just the ticket. 260 miles a day, meeting all kinds of people. He was so glad he'd made the move. 

He was in equal measure amused and intrigued that I wanted to make this return journey just for fun. I explained that I was on holiday from distant Sussex, and this was a journey I'd long wanted to make. And it might also be my only opportunity - who knows whether I'd ever be here again. It wasn't a cheap pleasure. The tickets cost me £5.40. For a twelve-mile round trip, without getting out at Thurso. But of course, I felt the experience would be worth the money, and I came away with a tangible paper souvenir, now tucked away inside my bag. Here's a shot of those tickets: 

I realised afterwards that I could have got a one-third discount, by flashing my Senior Railcard. But in my excitement I forgot all about it.

On the first leg to Thurso I concentrated on watching the view, and took no photos worth showing here. There was time at Thurso to get out of the carriage and snatch a few shots of the station. James gave me a thumbs-up sign.

Quite few people got on at Thurso, which to my own mind is a busier place than Wick, being not only on the very popular North Coast 500 tourist route, but also close to the Orkney ferry at Scrabster. It was no surprise that a couple with rather expensive-looking bicycles got on board, and spent time securing their bikes so that they wouldn't fall over, and stashing their panniers above on the rack. The girl had some trouble detaching her panniers. They must have been well-filled and heavy.

I asked the man where they were bound. The answer was all the way back to Glasgow, changing at Inverness. It was already approaching five o'clock. They didn't expect to reach Glasgow much before midnight. 

James had more to do on the return leg to Georgemas Junction. 

As for myself, I was still on a high. I always like a train ride, and this one was living up to expectations and then some. The passing scenery wasn't spectacular of course. Caithness is generally flattish, with gentle slopes cut by the occasional river. Coming out of Thurso, the first couple of miles ran beside the Thurso River in its valley, and with the sun out, I got a few half-decent shots like these:

Then all too soon we were back at Georgemas Junction. Some of the other passengers glanced up in surprise as I rose from my seat and made for the exit, ready to press the door-open button. Happily, Fiona was still there.

Out onto the platform, I passed the driver, walking forward not only to change ends, but to operate the ground frame. James was at the other end, waiting. 

I thanked him for a great ride that I would regard as one of the highlights of my holiday. He cheerfully gave me one more photo. 

I have to say, I do not know why the train companies are insisting that trains can make do with just the driver. The guard has many obvious duties, not least to assist passengers on and off trains and to dealt with their queries, as well as ticketing. Maybe there are special circumstances, such as on London Underground trains, when a guard might be superfluous. But on ordinary trains like this he seems indispensable.  

I watched the train depart. I dare say this will prove to be a unique experience, at least on this line, and I'm so glad I seized my chance.