Notes of an old refiner

The eighty years. I went to the Eternal Fire with my father's photograph, as every year, but this time I carried it in a small frame, because the large one is too heavy for my arm. A girl from the school asked to photograph us, the old man with the old man in the frame. I said yes. A strange thing to see yourself as a symbol.

Carnations at the Eternal Fire, 9 May.

My neighbour's son, the soldier, brought flowers to the wall of the names. I think the memory is in good hands.

For the history (somebody will read this in 50 years): pension 1,410 som. Electricity from January is 0.32 som per kilowatt, Iradenergo now. A loaf of bread 3 som, buckwheat 1 kg 14 som, my heart pills 65 som, these are in dollars really. The marshrutka 2 som.

I don't complain. In 1992 there was nothing at all.

The old apricot gave again, even more than in 2010. 85 kilos. The neighbours helped to pick, and I gave a bucket to each. I have no strength for the jam, so the neighbour from the second floor comes on Wednesday and does it with me. Seven jars so far.

The old apricot tree, 12 July. Still standing, like me.

The technical works on the international channel are in the sixth month now. I write for the Irad readers and for the future, a post in a bottle. In Nurzhan the spring comes the old way: first the mud, then the sparrows, then the first dandelion on the south side of the refinery fence.

The Chu in March: mud, sparrows and a bit of sun.

I counted: 5 pensioners in our entrance, and 3 of them use the internet. This is progress. The fourth uses it only for the football. The fifth sits on the bench and has all the news without a screen.

Some days in October the mobile internet in Talas was switched off, I read in the newspaper. In Nurzhan my home internet works. But now Dima writes from Surgut that my blog "does not open, there is a page about technical works". So my readers abroad (two: Dima and Valentina in Krasnoyarsk) cannot read. Hello to you anyway. I will write. Maybe later you read it all together, like a book.