1 January 2011 (Saturday) - PC Problems
Yesterday was all about looking back –
today I shall look forward. I’m hoping to make use of Google Calendar a lot
more. I’ve already linked it to the “Dates for the Diary” section of
the blog, and it’s embedded into www.mankybadger.com.
Once Facebook iron out their wrinkles I shall include it over there too. So
far I’ve listed all the events for the coming year of which I’m aware. I’m
quite proud of myself – even though it’s still rather early in the year for
the bonfire events to have confirmed dates yet, I’ve tracked down dates for
the parades in
Other plans for this year include having (most
of) the mortgage paid off. That should happen some time over the spring.
I’m dreading to find out how poorly the endowment policy fared. When we took
it out (all those years ago), our financial advisor (father in law)
assured us that it was a sound investment. We were promised vast sums of
spare cash when the endowment matured, which would be useful – the maturation
coincides with our silver wedding anniversary. Over the years I’d vaguely
hoped to use the money from the endowment to go back to
Talking of anniversaries and wanting cash - I could do with some spare cash right now. It’s an anniversary today; it’s been four years since I turned on my PC for the first time. A blog entry from that time described the device as “if not quite the dog’s bollox, it’s certainly the cat’s cock”. The PC has done well over the last four years, but just recently it’s really started to creak. Boot-up is painfully slow, and total freeze-ups requiring plug-pulling are getting more commonplace, despite my having had goes with Windows Defenders and C-Cleaners and PC Analysers.
Perhaps some of my more techie-minded loyal readers could let me know how long I should expect to get out of a PC these days?
Talking of techie-stuff, with today being New Year, I started to back up last year’s photographs. I’ve often said that computer-types make things overly complicated for no apparent reason – here’s another example…. My photographs for the year 2002 take up just under 600Mb of disk space. A similar number of photographs in 2010 take up seven times the amount of disk space. Modern cameras generate much larger files, but the pictures don’t actually seem to be of any better quality. Today I had a stroke of genius.
Rather than copying onto loads of CDs, I could get hold of a stand-alone hard drive and back up all my photos to it. They would be more accessible than if kept on CDs, so we set off to PC world. We got there to find that their on-line catalogue was somewhat at odds with what was on the shelf. And then ‘er indoors TM had an idea. Why didn’t we use one of the old PCs that are gathering dust at home instead? So we went home and had a look at the pile of PCs that are gathering dust. Since I had a clear-out of rubbish over the summer, it’s not such a big pile as once it was. In fact we only had two spare PCs (if you don’t count the one that “Daddies Little Angel TM ” never uses).
I disconnected the mouse, keyboard and monitor from my PC and plugged them into spare PC #1. Spare PC #1 promptly announced that Windows was fatally stuffed, thank you, and goodnight. I shall take that to the skip tomorrow. Spare PC #2 booted up fine, but I realised that swapping out the mouse, keyboard and monitor was a bit of a chore, so I popped back to PC World to get a switch so’s I could run both PCs from the same set of mouse, keyboard and monitor. And then back home to plumb it all together.
Oh, the air was blue. I couldn’t get the poxy switch to work. My PC wouldn’t see it at all. Eventually I wrestled the device into submission by cheating and reading the instructions. It works fine. Which is more than can be said for Spare PC #2. Working fine at 4pm, by 6pm it had decided it didn’t want to play. Now it merely cycles round the boot-up sequence until it flashes a blue screen of death and then it starts again; never actually booting up. I had a plan to get round this problem by booting from a Windows CD. Spare PC #2 had other ideas….
I *think* the thing has more than one hard disk inside. I shall have a look tomorrow and see if I can’t adjust the boot sequence. Initially I shall do that carefully by adjusting the jumpers, and if that is unsuccessful, I’ve a large axe somewhere.
2 January 2011
Once I’d got up and had some brekky, I slept in front of the working PC for an hour or so whilst it played NeverWinter Nights. We then went round to B&Q for a big box to put all my Lego into. Over the years I’ve accumulated quite a bit of the stuff, and it had got to the stage where it needed to be herded together.
We then went on an outing. A week ago we joined English Heritage. I had mentioned in a previous blog entry that I was considering cancelling my membership, but I have been told that would be a foolish thing to do. English Heritage is good, I like it, and I am going to enjoy being a member. And if I don’t, ‘er indoors TM will break my face (!)
“We” had decided that it would be
nice to go to Sutton
Valence Castle today. Something which is easier said that done. The
place is described as being “in thevillage of Sutton
We eventually found the castle. I say “castle”… I am reliably informed it was once a castle. There are five large(ish) lumps of decaying masonry and two information placards. The entire thing can be seen in all its glory in five minutes. I know this, because I timed it with my stop-watch. In order to waste some more time, I enjoyed “the panoramic views over the Weald”. They weren’t so much “panoramic” as “cold”, and were only worth watching when the view was interrupted by a pair of local urchins running down the hill; one falling over and winding himself quite seriously, and the other skidding down the hill on his bum, covering his trousers in mud.
Home to find “My Boy TM ” in high excitement. His new car has arrived. This is his fourth car. I didn’t get my fourth car until I was in my late thirties. He’s also tidying up in readiness for his house guest. Later in the week he’s assuming temporary responsibility for his mate’s parrot whilst his mate goes on holiday. I must admit I’m quite looking forward to the parrot’s arrival. I’ve often fancied the idea of having a parrot, and I shall be interested to see how we get on with “feathery bollox” (as I am assured the bird will be known). An interesting choice of name, as it would seem that the gender of “feathery bollox” has not so far been reliably determined.
I had intended to spend some time mucking about with my backup PC today. But I gave the matter some thought. The thing was broken. It was probably repairable. I decided that it would be far more productive for me to wait until an itinerant techie-minded person should come along. I could then smile at said techie minded person and hope that they might take pity on me.
As luck would have it, the Hose Beast came calling this afternoon. He spent half an hour fiddling with the broken PC before announcing that he concurred with my initial diagnosis. ‘er indoors TM then produced an old hard drive and a motherboard and asked if they were any good. We decided that these bits might form the foundation of a new PC I could build from the wreckage of the old one. So whilst everyone else went bowling, I got jiggy with the screwdriver. At the end I had to call for help. It was only a small problem, but a serious one: where does the mains power switch attach to the motherboard?
With mains power to motherboard we could then get serious with the thing. We booted with smug grins, only to get what might best be described as “Quack Quack Oops!!” So we paused to strip out incompatible RAM, and started again. As I’m typing this, I’m installing Windows onto what is effectively a new backup PC. I’m hoping for the best, but fully expecting to be going to the tip tomorrow….
3 January 2011
I was up till quite late last night (this morning) mucking about with my backup PC. I got it to be *nearly* fit for purpose. I was quite pleased with my progress. It has to be said that ‘er indoors TM is loathe to throw away anything that might be useful, and over the years whenever we have upgraded the computers, we’ve saved an awful lot of computer bits. And we’ve recycled a lot of those bits by having built an almost working PC out of the scraps and fragments of leftover PCs. And I’ve done it without having to make too much of a nuisance of myself to my more IT-savvy pals. (Well, the Hose Beast was in Ashford for bowling anyway…)
I say “almost working” – when I went to bed last night, Windows was running fine. I’d got the thing onto the home network with shared space available for the backing-up I wanted to do. The only problem was that it wasn’t seeing both the hard drives in Windows, even though they are there in the BIOS. But I could fix that one…. I thought. I can remember having a similar problem when I bought a hard drive for a PC in 2003. I fixed that – if only I could remember what I did.
But then this morning when I switched it on, it started to boot up Windows, gave up and hung. And that was it. Now it won’t boot into Windows at all. I suspect that old hard drives that have been laying idle for some years aren’t quite at their best. I’m going to give up on this silly idea now (at least for a little while).
I spent the morning sulking in NeverWinter, where trolls have become endemic.
Following on from the success of yesterday’s little jaunt to an English Heritage treasure (!), we thought we’d enjoy another of their cultural wonders today. Lullingstone Roman Villa was open, according to the English Heritage website, so we arranged to meet up at the place with Simon and Corinne; they too would be able to make the most of their English Heritage membership.
We got to Lullingstone Roman Villa to find it was closed. As had dozens of other people. It has to be said that I’m not impressed with English Heritage – I shall complain in the morning.
We saw signs to Lullingstone
castle, so we thought we’d drive up to that instead. It too was closed, as
was nearby Eynsford castle. We got out our English
Heritage books – they claimed that
There was a minor calamity on the way
We spent an hour or so looking round the castle, and then wandered over the road to have a look round the cathedral.
There was a sign up saying that there was a service in progress, but we went in anyway. I couldn’t see any services in progress. There was a vicar making a foul stench with a joss stick, but that was about all that was happening. It was interesting looking round the cathedral – there seemed to be half a dozen mini-churches inside the place; all sorts of different places where religious-types could do their religion-ing. I thought it cheeky of them to have a placard advertising that the place was free to visit, but they welcomed donations – a suggested donation being three quid. The placard went on to say that it costs ten grand a week to keep the cathedral running. The apathetic agnostic inside of me can’t help but wonder if those ten thousand pounds might be better spent elsewhere.
And then home - seeing we were in
4 January 2011 (Tuesday) - Diets and Parrots
For all that I’ve resigned myself to being a porker, I don’t actually enjoy being one. It’s the way I am. I get rather hurt by people commenting on my weight. I actually eat a lot less than many people who are a lot thinner than I am, and it’s not as though I choose to be fat.
Quite a few of my friends (both on-line and in reality) have started their post-Xmas diet, and I’ve jumped on the bandwagon.
There has been a lot of drivel said, posted and written about weight loss, weight gain, and the whole sorry story of diets over the years. Biffidus Digestivum, low carb atkins, cardiovascular, fat-burning diets… so many buzz-words are bandied about. And then there’s the whole “gym-ethos” cashing in on the perceived low self esteem of us porkers.
Do any of these buzz-words actually mean anything? Do any of these diets actually work? One of my cousins is rather forthright – yesterday she posted on Facebook “its not rocket science, if you want to lose weight you cut out all the crap, you exercise, and hey presto, you lose weight!” Me – I tend to look at the matter from a more medically-related point of view. Consider the above diagram. Hole A is larger than Hole B.
But it’s easy to come up with pet theories about weight loss. Doing it is not so easy. Or is it? Over the next few days I shall be really good. I shall cut out all meat, bread and potatoes from what I eat. I shall stop drinking beer. I will not have a biscuit with morning and afternoon coffee breaks. We’ll stop having crisps in the house. When not on a late shift I shall walk to and from work rather than driving. When on a late shift I shall (hopefully) go for a swim before work. When my stomach hurts from hunger I will tell myself that this is a good sign. And the weight will fall off. In the first week I shall lose about six pounds – maybe as much as half a stone. By the end of the month I shall be a stone lighter than I am today. By mid February I will be visibly thinner.
And I shall also be fed up with the dull food. And so I shall allow myself the odd treat. Or two. And by the end of February I will have given up all pretence of diet. By the end of April I shall be back to the weight I am today, and will be talking about a diet again.
I’ve done diets before. When “Daddies Little Angel TM ” was a lot smaller I once went on a mega-diet. I lost over six stone in weight. I did it then. I can do it again.
Let me qualify that – I *can* do it again, but what incentive is there? Food is to be enjoyed. A lifetime of salad is simply not enjoyable. I have a theory that if I exercise more, then eating less might not be such an issue. I can walk to and from work. I shall start off with that (when it’s not raining), and see how I get on.
I came home from work this evening to find a large van outside my house, and “My BoyTM ” supervising the unloading of a large cage. I helped move said cage into the living room – “Feathery Bollox” has arrived. She’s (!) quite a sweetie, she likes monkey nuts, dried bananas and chicken. She likes climbing all over the outside of her cage, and she was fascinated by my doing the ironing.
She’s still rather timid – she’s quite happy for people to be around, until they get to within about a foot of her. Then she backs off. She does a very good imitation of a smoke alarm, and says “What?” occasionally.
I have actually always wanted a parrot. We’ve got her for a couple of months – let’s see how we get on….
5 January 2011 (Wednesday) – Stuff
Up with the lark (or should that be “parrot”?), and I sorted laundry whilst watching telly. I say “watching telly” – most of the time was spent watching the antics of the parrot. Having opened her cage I thought she’d be happy enough to be left, so I went to get on with the washing up. I popped my head round the door to see “F.B.” marching across the living room table; clearly on a mission. “What are you doing?” I asked, and the parrot ran back to her cage.
To Asda to get lunch, and a radio for the parrot. We had this plan to leave the telly on for her, but modern tellies switch themselves off after a couple of hours. So the parrot now has a radio of her own. She can listen to Radio Four and swear at the politicians. I also bought her some grapes. And then to work, where I spent the morning worrying about F.B. Fortunately “Daddies Little Angel TM ” wasn’t at college this afternoon, so I was able to get regular parrot updates. It would seem that when I’m not in the house, the parrot is incredibly talkative and is quite a potty-beak, regularly using the F-word. What a rude parrot.
I came home to find the parrot somewhat subdued, and to add insult to injury she doesn’t like grapes. She took one from me, passed it from beak to claw, then back to beak and she spat it across the room. How ungrateful!
Meanwhile in non-parrot-related news, the world continues to turn. We are on Day Two of the diet. I had a couscous salad for dinner. I have absolutely no idea whether couscous is good for weight loss or not. Pundits are very quick to say what one should not eat when one is trying to lose weight, but not so fast to recommend foods which will aid weight loss. I suppose it’s because there is no such food. The best way to lose weight is not to have any food at all. Mind you, I’ve not walked to work yet. Yesterday it was raining, and today I didn’t want to walk – I wanted to be home promptly to see the parrot.
I had some fun at work today. Next week an associated department is having a formal inspection, and the more junior staff were being coached on how to deal with the inspectors. It is likely that inspectors will ask them where certain documents are to be found, what they should do under certain circumstances, to which senior members of staff they should refer for various matters. Keeping a straight face I told a gathering of lab-assistant-types that if questioned and they didn’t know the answers to any of the questions, then they should cry. Normally bursting into tears puts most people off, but if that didn’t work, my back-up plan was that they should bite the inspectors. It would be a brave inspector indeed who would not give up after receiving a vigorous fang-ing.
(I bet someone will squeal on me about this to management, who just won’t see the funny side…)
This evening I went to the astro club’s committee meeting. Whilst I’m technically not actually a committee member, that’s never stopped me sticking my oar in. On Saturday we’re holding an event to co-incide with the BBC’s “Stargazing Live” program, and tonight we had a little conflab to make plans for Saturday. If any of my loyal readers are at a loose end on Saturday, from 6pm we’ll be doing the astro thing at Woodchurch village hall. It promises to be a popular evening – in the last five days the club’s web site has had over three times the average monthly number of hits. And most of them are coming from the BBC’s “Stargazing Live” links.
6 January 2011 (Thursday) - More Stuff
A late start, so I had a bit of a lie-in. I awoke to find an empty house, and the parrot was surprisingly quiet. I wondered if she was asleep – I didn’t want to wake her, so I got some brekkie and wandered to my PC where I did some accounts (still skint), and let my blood pressure go through the roof.
One of the advantages of living where I do is that we’ve got an excellent travel network. The trains leave town in five different directions, and there’s a motorway too. The motorway has the occasional (almost weekly) hiccup though. Whenever the cross channel ferries aren’t running, the freight lorries can’t get to the continent, and so the local police close the local motorway and use it as somewhere to park the lorries which are waiting to get to France. Sometimes these queues of lorries are over five miles long, all parked, going nowhere, and staying put for days.
On reading this, most people would think that such an occurrence would be rare, very rare. In practice the ferries cease operations with amazing regularity, sometimes seemingly on a weekly basis. And when they shut up shop, so the motorway is closed too. For many years it has been suggested that a purpose-built staging area be built to house lorries waiting to cross the channel. Today the Government announces it will not fund this project. The solution is simple. Bill the French. After all, the port closures are usually due to them being on strike anyway.
Meanwhile a pointless government quango is doing it’s best to waste a million poundsof public cash to ensure it will have still funds to waste in the future.
I then did a bit of research. It’s my birthday in a few weeks time. And every year I like to do something for my birthday, but I struggle to find what I might do. Those few attractions which are open are oh-so-cold in February. On the NHS discounts website I fund I could get a 45% reduction on the price of a trip to Legoland. Now at first sight that looks like quite a bargain, but I still begrudge paying over twenty quid to go to Legoland, By the time I’ve shelled out to park my car I’d be looking at paying the best part of forty quid, and even then I’d be lonely. I can only get the bargain for me, and I doubt anyone else is going to fork out forty quid for the non-discounted ticket. I suppose the people at Legoland know what they are doing – they must be getting enough punters through the door at forty quid each, or they wouldn’t charge so much. But I’m not paying that price. What price would I pay? In all honesty – no more than a tenner.
And then the phone rang. Someone claiming to be called “Hector Grey” phoned claiming to be representing “Burnhill investments”. He said I shouldn’t worry – he wasn’t trying to sell me anything. He was merely letting me know that his company would be writing to me to let me know about the credit crunch and how it had affected land values. He obviously had a script to work to, and really didn’t like me asking questions. I gave him two minutes, and when I eventually got the spelling of his name and company out of him, I told him that seeing how he could not pronounce either his name of the company that employed him, I didn’t really want to have anything to do with his company. He had no idea what I was talking about, and tried to continue with his speech. I hung up.
Meanwhile “Daddies Little Angel TM ” desperately needs empty cigarette packets for her friends college project. If any of my loyal readers can save empties even from friends and family for me it would be greatly appreciated :o)
Up early, and I spent half an hour stroking and fussing the parrot. She’s daft really – she’s quite content to be stroked – I can be stroking her with both hands and she’s fine. She’s not keen on being picked up, and she’ll walk away if I try to pick her up, but soon comes back for more cuddles. I came home from work this evening and carried on fussing her. After an hour or so “Daddies Little Angel TM ” came home, and far from having the soppiest parrot on the planet we suddenly had the parrot from hell. A vicious beak was snapping left, right and centre, managing to fang both “Daddies Little AngelTM ” and me. But the moment “Daddies Little Angel TM ” left, the parrot went back to being a right softie.
‘er indoors TM has also commented that the parrot will only tolerate her presence when either me or “My Boy TM ” are about. I have heard this about parrots, but seeing it for myself was quite an eye-opener. Having an animal which will only behave for half the family isn’t going to be practical.
I overheard an interesting conversation today. There was a gentleman standing outside the front of the hospital, bellowing into his mobile phone. Fortunately for him, the Almighty had chosen not to over-burden him with intelligence. This chap was shouting into his mobile phone that she was getting better. I wondered who “she” was – apparently she’s had an operation to put some stitches in. That was nice for her.
And talking of
people of restricted intelligence and hospitals, I see
Speaking as a porker on a diet myself, you can ask for all the help in the world, you can blame weight gain on everyone in the world, but at the end of the day you either exercise more, eat less, or gain weight.
And as I reach the end of the first week of diet, I’ve not actually lost any weight at all…
8 January 2011 (Saturday) - Stargazing Live
I have remarked before that God laughs when
we make plans. Having been planning for tonight’s “Stargazing Live”
event, the club secretary’s father in law has been taken very ill in
I volunteered to cover for him (as much as I could), and I was on his doorstep at the crack of dawn, loading all the gear into my car. It’s no secret that my knowledge of practical astronomy is rather pathetic: I’m never going to be much good at a live stargazing event. I can only identify four constellations (five if you count the Pleiades), and probably half a dozen stars. But I can get the keys to unlock and open up the hall, put out chairs, put up posters, make the tea, enthuse to the punters and generally busy about in the background whilst those who do know what they are talking about can get on with impressing the public.
With al the gear in the car I came home and went through the presentation Jason was going to give. Normally when I give a talk to the astro club I’ll have prepared the presentation months in advance, and I’ll know what I was thinking of when I made the slides. I wasn’t quite sure what Jason had in mind, but it was too late to change anything, so I familiarised myself with the slide order, then tried to video the parrot.
Having listened to her jabbering on all morning, as soon as I got out the camera, she shut up and wouldn’t say a word, even to “My Boy TM ”, who is very obviously parrot favourite. There was an entertaining ten minutes whilst “My Boy TM ” cleaned out the parrot cage. A combination of fascination and hero worship meant he couldn’t get on with the job as parrot was permanently in the way. The more he told her off, the more she got in the way.
But I was getting restless. We’d arranged to meet at the hall in Woodchurch for the astronomy event at 4pm. Bearing in mind we were going to be one man short, I decided to get there early. I’d rather have everything ready and then be wasting time in the hall knowing that all was done rather than having wasted time earlier only to be rushing later.
I opened up the hall at 3pm, and it was as well I got there early. By the time all the other helpers arrived (an hour later) I’d done very little more than opened up the halls, set out the tables & PC, and put up some posters. Normally setting up for a club meeting is rather straightforward. Today the time flew by, and before we knew it, it was 6pm, and the public were arriving. There was a good turn out of club members, but there was a lot of people who’d come along on the strength of having seen the BBC’s programmes in the week.
I have never seen the Woodchurch hall so crowded. With standing room only, we started off with a welcome to everyone. Drew gave a little chat about the size of the solar system, and then gave a quick demonstration of the night sky with the Stellarium software so that people would know what stars and things to look at outside. We then adjourned to the car park where it was dark and clear to do some practical astronomy.
With a dozen or so telescopes out, people were queuing to see things, but everyone seemed quite happy to queue. A few of us pointed out various stars and constellations to those waiting to look through telescopes, and even I managed to attract a small following.
After an hour I popped into the hall for a cup of coffee and I was amazed. For all that the outside practical astronomy session was really crowded, there were at least sixty people sitting in the hall, apparently waiting for the next part of the show to start. So I loudly announced that they had five minutes to escape, or I would give a lecture. To my surprise, those standing at the back of the hall came and sat down and looked attentive.
It turned out that our event had been more successful than we’d imagined – we’d attracted more of exactly the sort of people we’ve already got in the club: a really extreme mix of astronomers. Lots of people who like looking through telescopes. And lots of people (like me) who like sitting comfortably in the warm listening to someone telling them what can be seen through telescopes. And lots of people between the two extremes. With over sixty people outside looking through telescopes, I went inside and lectured to over sixty people about the life of stars. The talk went well, people laughed when they were supposed to, and afterwards quite a few people came up to me to ask about joining the club.
And all too soon the evening had drawn to a close. During the initial introductory session we had a head count, and then made a note of anyone turning up later. We had at least 145 people along, and we heard of lots of people who arrived, saw the packed car park and went away again. I had hoped to try out some astro-photography this evening, but time went by too fast.
I wonder how many people will come to the club meeting at the end of the month….
9 January 2011 (Sunday) – Whitstable
I was woken by the phone ringing. Were we going for a walk today? I looked at the clock – it was nearly 11am. Last night’s Stargazing Live must have taken more out of me than I thought. So I rescheduled our walk for a couple of hours and leapt into action.
Once up and breakfasted Batty arrived with some KFC. He fed a (unsalted) chip to the parrot – she seemed to love it. We then set off to Tankerton where we parked up and walked along the coast to Whitstable. It’s a lovely place to walk – there’s the beach huts, the offshore windmills, the view across to Sheppey. And once you get to Whitstable, there’s the Whitstable Brewery bar. Or that is there used to be. It’s been closed on the last few times I’ve been to Whitstable, and from what I can work out on pub reviewing web sites, it rarely opens any more.
We wandered round the corner to the East Quay seafood restaurant. The advantage of popping in to this place is that they have a bar which does beer from the Whitstable brewery. However the disadvantage is that it’s staffed by arrogant schoolchildren. The chap who (eventually) took our order did so without a word to us, but whilst shouting at another spotty oik that there was too much work for him to do. Said spotty oik then (also wordlessly) slammed down a sign saying that they were no longer serving food. We took our drinks and sat down and chatted for half an hour or so. On reflection, although I’ve raved about the Whitstable Brewery’s Oyster Stout in the past, my home brew is better. And it doesn’t come with the attitude.
Mind you, the East Quay restaurant wasn’t all bad. As we were leaving there was a rather harried looking young lady loitering outside the gents lavatory who wasn’t at all pleased to hear the words “the poo’s not coming out Mummy” being bellowed to any and all passers by.
We then walked back
along the beach to the cars, and returned home. For all that I’ve whinged
about the bar staff, I do like a walk along the north
Once home we opened up the parrot cage and let F.B. out for a bit, and I turned on the telly – “Are You Being Served – the Movie” was playing on one of the more obscure channels. I slept through most of that drivel, and then once tea was scoffed I spent an hour or so preparing my next talk for the astronomy club. It’s not due to be given until next September, but it never hurts to be prepared.
Whilst I was finding out all sorts of stuff about scattered disc objects (what?!) my mobile bleeped. I had a text from the chairman of the astro club. He said “Running a bit late, be there as soon as we can”. I wondered what this was all about – was I supposed to be meeting up with him this evening? I could only imagine this was a text in relation to yesterday’s Stargazing Live event. I went into the details of the text on my phone, and sure enough the message had been originally sent at 4pm on Saturday afternoon. I received it this evening at 6.30pm. It’s rather worrying that a text message (supposedly a form of instant communication) can take over twenty six hours to arrive…
There was a charity collector outside Tesco’s today. I don’t know what he was collecting for – I made a point of ignoring him. Perhaps I’m being mean, but I resent the way that these people get in your face, rattling their tins and generally using emotional blackmail to get you to support whatever they feel is a worthwhile charity.
Talking of emotional blackmail, my cousin’s commented (on Facebook) that she gave cash to a beggar yesterday. Not because she felt sorry for the beggar, but because she felt sorry for the beggar’s dog. My immediate thought was how could a beggar afford a dog – they cost a small fortune. The initial purchase runs into hundreds of pounds. And the food bills aren’t cheap. By the time you’ve forked out for the vet bills as well, a dog costs thousands of pounds. If someone is begging to finance a dog, then clearly they can’t afford that dog. And the dog cannot be receiving the treatment it deserves. Where are the R.S.P.C.A.?
Mind you, so many beggars seem to have a dog with them. Is a dog a vital part of begging apparatus these days? I can’t help but think that if the beggar has a dog and is using it to blackmail passers-by into giving him cash, then the animal should be taken from them. Circuses are no longer allowed to exploit animals, why should beggars?
Another form of
extortion which boils my piss (to coin a phrase) is the world’s
inability to deal with piracy on the high seas. I can understand how
highwaymen get away with their crimes. They can hide in the forests and lurk
unseen before they pounce out shouting “Stand and Deliver”. But with
pirates, it’s different. Ships out at sea can see pirates coming. On a good
day pirates can been seen from miles away. And if it’s dark or foggy, then
they have radar to detect the pirates. I got to go on the bridge of the ferry
when we went from Newhaven to
So why is piracy still a problem? Sadly the answer is that humanity clearly and demonstrably actually want piracy to remain a problem. Take for example the latest anti-piracy measures. Having seen pirates coming, the potential victims of piracy are to be issued with a bright light with which to dazzle the pirates. Now I don’t want to be sarcastic in any way, but surely pirates have heard of sunglasses?
Am I being so reactionary in suggesting that all merchant shipping be equipped with torpedoes? I really don’t think it would be necessary to sink many pirates before the International Guild of Piracy (patent pending) got the message.
Meanwhile, following on the astronomical theme from the weekend, here’s something to make you sit up and think – an amateur astronomer in Cambridge has been taking astro-photographs that are reportedly every bit as good as photos obtained by NASA. I’m slowly getting the urge to have a go at astro-photographing. After all – you never know what you might find – only last week a ten year old girl found a supernova…
11 January 2011 (Tuesday) - One Week Later
I had rather a late night last night. Being on a late shift I didn’t get home till well after 8pm, and by the time I’d showered and had tea, time was getting on. And F.B. (the parrot) was asking to play. When she’s left alone in the house we put her in her cage just in case she gets up to mischief. She seems quite content in the cage with plenty of toys, and her own radio to keep her company. But when I came home last night she asked to come out. When put in her cage, she sometimes hangs upside-down on the cage’s roof door and says “hold on!”. We’ve come to realise this is her way of asking to come out. When “out” she doesn’t do much more than she does inside the cage, and she doesn’t go very far “out” at all – mostly climbing over the outside of the cage. Having said that, I wouldn’t trust her unsupervised – she does go on “walkabouts” occassionally.
And I wasted quite a while this morning playing with her. As I cleaned her water bowls she kept bothering me to stroke her; she won’t be picked up, but she likes to be petted. I spent over an hour this evening fussing her.
She’s learned new words. “Hello Buffy – give us a kiss” in the voice of “My Boy TM ” and “Come on Buffy – get in your cage” in the voice of ‘er indoors TM . The latter is a phrase she’s picked up after ‘er indoors TM spent half an hour on Sunday night trying to get the parrot to go to bed.
The parrot’s been here for a week, and she’s quite a character. When younger I always wanted a parrot, and now I’ve got one (albeit temporarily) I’m quite enjoying having her to stay. But I have a decision to make. Her owners have decided that they are going to sell her, and as we’ve currently looking after her, we’ve got first dibs. The cost is….. I won’t go into pounds and pence, but let’s just say that I could probably (just about) find the cash. But do we want her here permanently?
She seems to like company – and regular readers of this blog will know that I’m not a stay-at-home guy. All the time it’s wintery we won’t be doing much, and so we’ll be about for the parrot for the next few weeks, but as the temperatures rise, so we will be out and about more. It wouldn’t be fair on the parrot to keep her locked up in her cage for so much of the time.
But I shall blub when she goes….
Another one-week anniversary today is celebrated in that my diet is now one week old. I’ve lost a few pounds – not as many as I might have hoped. But then for all that my food intake is down, I’ve not really started doing much exercise. I must do something about that.
Meanwhile science is excited by the discovery of the smallest planet so far found outside of our own solar system. At 1.4 times the size of Earth, it’s definitely rocky, like our own Earth. However before we start trying to call up E.T., we should bear in mind that the planet is so close to its parent star that it couldn’t possibly harbour life.
Although it’s definitely a very significant discovery in planet hunting, I can’t pretend to be very excited about it. It’s (just) yet another planet in a star-hugging orbit. What would really interesting would be the discovery of planets that are a lot further from their parent star, in (nearly) circular orbits. And the discovery of those will take time – planets close to their parent sun are detectable far quicker than planets further out (I could go into tedious detail…).
The probes doing this astronomy (COROT and Kepler) have only been up and in place for a few years. I think it’s fair to say that if hypothetical similar probes launched at the same time from a hypothetical planet ten light years away wouldn’t have found our own Jupiter yet.
12 January 2011 (Wednesday) - This n That
I was up with the lark (parrot) and was ironing by 6am. I used the opportunity of an early start to watch some DVDs. For some time I’ve been wanting the “Comic Strip” DVDs – a comedy series from the early to mid 1980s. I put the DVD set onto my Xmas list, and I got it. I’ve been watching episodes over the last few weeks, and I’m about half way through the box. I’ll probably watch the lot, but I must admit that its not as good as I remember it. It’s not so much “alternative comedy” as “an alternative to comedy.”
And then before work I went to Sainsbury’s to get lunch. I went there yesterday (for a change) and was quite impressed with their salad bar. For a porker on a diet, this had quite a range of food that would be good for weight loss. (Using the word “food” in its broadest context!). I got there this morning to find the salad bar hadn’t been set up. I was on a late start yesterday and had called in at 11am. At 7.30am today I was too early. I asked what time they set the thing up. I was told it would be about 9am. I pointed out that would be too late for me, and for a lot of people who wanted lunch. They agreed with me – it would be too late. But if they set the salad bar up earlier, then it sells out too quickly.
I did wonder if maybe setting the thing up earlier, and getting more of the stuff in might increase their profits, but what do I know?
Work was the same as ever, and then home to the parrot. When the subject of parrot-sitting was first brought up several weeks ago, the fruit of my loin who was championing the idea assured me that I wouldn’t need to clean up any mess. He would ensure the water and food bowls were filled, he would clean the cage out. He would sweep the carpet.
It didn’t take *that* long to feed, water and clean the parrot out really….
13 January 2011 (Thursday) - An Assessment
To work, where one of my trainees was to be formally assessed. As an assessor myself I enjoy assessing other trainees. I like visiting other hospitals. I feel I get a lot from the experience; I learn a lot, and (hopefully) at the end of my visit everyone is smiling after a successful assessment. (I failed one once, but that’s another story…). However when I have an assessor in to see one of my trainees I am worried sick. I hate it!
The point of the assessment was to examine the trainee’s pre registration portfolio and to see if he had met all the criteria. I’ve actually gone to the trouble to produce a website all about this pre registration portfolio. Ideally someone else would have done this already, but the formal advice we receive about this is minimal. The idea is that the advice should be minimal to encourage the trainees to be artistic and creative in compiling their portfolio. No two portfolios should be the same; each should show the individual compiler’s input.
Some assessors (like me, I hope) have taken this philosophy on board. Others (to be fair it is a small minority) come along with a fixed view of right and wrong; their way being right and everyone else’s being wrong. I have encountered such narrow minded assessors in the past, and had to fiercely argue my trainee’s worth.
In one such case I challenged the assessor to explain why she felt certain work was not up to the required standard. Her answer was “I don’t like it!”, snarled in a rather arrogant fashion. She eventually admitted defeat very gracelessly. Another assessor once criticised one of my student’s work for having both too much and too little health and safety input. And then went on to refuse to see any contradiction.
As part of the assessment process the assessor interviewed me, and asked if I had any difficulties in mentoring. I told her that I hated the variability between assessors. She laughed, and related her experiences. She’d had dealings with a chap who would only accept work from a student in a question-and-answer format. Essays, case studies, reflections were all worthless to him. I liked today’s assessor. She (like me I hope) knew what she was doing. My lad passed his assessment. That’s now nineteen trainees I’ve overseen to qualification.
Home to the ironing, ably supervised by the parrot. Over tea we watched Time Team; pausing occasionally to listen to next door having a shouting match. In the past we’ve had a very stormy relationship with next door. A few years ago I was to blame for all the world’s ills, and when he starts going off on a rant my heart sinks as I wonder what I am supposed to have done wrong this time. I must admit I’m waiting for the complaints about the noise the parrot makes. And to be honest I will listen to those complaints on the day that they get rid of their piano. But today I would seem to have escaped lightly. They were arguing about money I think.
And then in a fit of boredom I started messing about with my phone. Have you ever felt that everyone else seems to have a sexier phone than you? I certainly have. It’s not so much the phone that is sexier, as the things the phone can do. So I spent a little while browsing to see what apps I might download to liven up my phone. I got an astronomy package that is a load of old rubbish. I got a virtual zippo lighter (for no adequately explored reason). I got a new phone theme that crashed the phone’s software. I got a virtual piano that I can’t play. I decided against installing the virtual protractor and the McDonalds finder. If any of my loyal readers might suggest apps worth having (for a Nokia N8), I’m all ears…
14 January 2011 (Friday) - Sat-Nav, Aliens, Cards
The news was interesting today. I *know*
I shouldn’t read it – it only winds me up. The news pundits are all relating
the story of the
It bothers me that you actually have to search to find the news of importance. Perhaps the planet-finding successes of Kepler and COROT together with the mass interest in astronomy stirred up by the recent Stargazing Live programmes have touched a nerve with officialdom. No less an august body than the Royal Society has warned the United Nations of the potential dangers posed by First Contact with extra-terrestrials.
And they may well have a point. After all, mankind *could* launch an interstellar mission within a few years using current technology. It would not be easy, and it would take a massive investment of time, effort and money. But given the right impetus it could be done. What might be the right impetus? Total environmental collapse might fit the bill. (Look at the floods hitting Brazil and Australia).
And with the Earth uninhabitable, and the remnants of humanity unleashed into starships which would effectively be life-rafts, what would be our reaction to any E.T.s we might meet on their planets? Would we be friendly and respectful to them? Or would we merely see them as being in our way on some very valuable real estate that we intended to steal?
Just a thought…
To work, where I received an invitation to a rather dull meeting. Said dull meeting is planned to take place several counties away. The directions to the venue were rather sparse. The directions were merely a post code prefixed with the words “Type this post code into your sat-nav”. It’s a sign of the times that everyone is expected to have sat-nav. Fortunately for me, there is sat-nav on my phone. It’s one of the apps on it that is actually worth having.
It’s a shame that I don’t intend going to this meeting, really.
Home, tea, and then round to
Various hobbies come and go in my life, and playing poker seems to be staging a comeback. Personally I think that’s a good thing – I like a game of cards, even if I am rubbish at it.
And in parrot-related news, any possible plans to keep the parrot on a long term basis have taken a further step backwards. It turns out that far from being the parrot’s favourite, “My Boy TM ” is as likely to receive a bite as his sister. And today his sister received a bite which drew blood. I saw it happen: “Daddies Little Angel TM ” offered the bird a peanut – the bird ignored the food being offered and deliberately bit the finger offering the food.
Having the parrot only being handlable by “Yours Truly” isn’t going to be practical.
But this would seem to be in agreement with what I’ve heard about parrots – they are usually one-person birds. She is truly soppy with me – I can stroke her, fuss her and pet her and she seems to love it. But she is vicious with anybody else who tries to touch her. Having said that, I received a rather vigorous chewing this evening. To be fair to the parrot, I had been feeding her garlic bread (which she loves) and my hands probably did smell tasty…
15 January 2011 (Saturday) – Stuff
I checked out the news over brekkie this morning. It was only yesterday that I whinged that those writing the news seem to have odd priorities. The trivial and ephemeral is given headline status. That which actually will affect the future of humanity is generally treated (at best) as light relief or (more usually) with contempt. A few days ago (last Tuesday) I mentioned about the discovery of the planet Kepler-10b. It’s the smallest exo-planet so far discovered. At 1.4 times the size of Earth, it’s definitely rocky, like our own Earth. However it is so close to its parent star that it couldn’t possibly harbour life.
The main stream news has picked up on this story. Not for the story’s scientific worth, or for the implications to a humanity which, having stuffed up its own planet, may well soon need to look for another. The only reason they have picked up on the story is that they don’t like the name that has been assigned to the planet. And the tone of the article is rather anti-scientific, purely because science hasn’t assigned a soppy name to this recently discovered planet.
Something else which seems to go unnoticed by the press is the fact that if a member of the public has a complaint about a health care professional then there is a very open process by which allegations of unprofessionalism, incompetence and malpractice are followed up. It’s laid out by the HPC, as are the results of their investigations. Such investigations are a matter of public record. Periodically I go through the archives. Some make macabre reading, some are downright criminal. And this one amazed me – a psychologist who told his patient that she was both psychic and a witch, and went on to offer to be present at the birth of his patient’s children.
I spend a lot of time telling family, friends and the public at large how wonderful the NHS is (and it is!), and then I find myself undermined by this sort of thing…
To work – even though the new boiler has been in place for some months, the hole it left in my finances hasn’t been filled. Overtime is always useful. And after a morning at work I came home, fussed the parrot, and then “My Boy TM ” drove us all to my brother’s house where was saw the birthday nephew. Whilst I slept on the sofa, everyone lese used the Wii to call up You-Tube videos, waking me only when it was time to go home. If nothing else, I got to play with the sat-nav on my phone on the way home.
And now I’ve got the thing to talk in miles (rather than kilometres), next time I’ll have some idea what it’s talking about. If only I could change the silly voice on the thing…
16 January 2011
It has to be said that I have been wondering if the neighbours can hear the parrot. However I was woken by the neighbour’s alarm at 6.30am this morning. I drifted back to sleep only to be woken again by the noise of their dogs shortly before 7am. And usually on a Sunday the other side’s continual piano playing sets the first lot’s dogs off barking shortly after 8am. So bearing in mind that the parrot didn’t really make any noises at all until 9am today, I’m not really that worried that she’s being a nuisance to others. A nuisance to us maybe… but that’s another story. But it was as well that we were up and about – the postman rang the doorbell at daybreak. He had a parcel and told us they had a backlog to clear. On a Sunday!
I then spent a while on eBay looking at hoodies. I’m rather conscious that I only wear one hoodie – I’m sure everyone has seen my “Grumpy” hoodie. I like it because it has a full zip front. I have plenty of other hoodies, but none with zip fronts. For some inexplicable reason I would seem to be the only person who wants a hoodie with a zipped front.
I scoured eBay and couldn’t find hardly any, and those I could find, I didn’t like.
We soon met up with
There are two schools of thought about websites. One theory is that they are a useful way to convey information to the general public, and therefore should be dynamic things which are regularly updated. The other theory is that you have a website to quieten those who like that sort of thing, and having set it up you ignore it, because you had no idea what it was all about in the first place.
English Heritage clearly subscribe to the second theory. This annoys me – if they aren’t going to bother maintaining their website, they should shut it down. Better no information than wrong information.
But with our English Heritage membership we got free admission to the abbey and the grounds, so we had a mooch round. It was all rather scenic, and nowhere near as cold as on our last visit of two years ago. We had a good look round, climbed several staircases that we probably weren’t supposed to, nearly upset the normal people a couple of times, and then it was time for scoff.
Thanks to the
wonderful bit of technology that is my mobile phone I’d managed to look up
the phone number of my favourite
pub in Battle, and to book us a table for lunch. The food was excellent –
and loads of it, but I was disappointed by the ale selection. On my last
visit in December 2008 they had five ales on. Today they only had two – and
the selection was rather disappointing: Harvey’s and London Pride. But we
were going for a meal, not a booze up. We enjoyed
ourselves, and after we’d scoffed we had a wander round
Once home I took all the astro club stuff back to Jason, and then got the next batch of home brew started. This one should (hopefully) be a dark(ish) best bitter and should be ready to drink in the first week in February. All it needs is a silly name…
17 January 2011 (Monday) - Stuff
To work where we had the grand podge-a-thon weigh in. After two weeks of dieting, I’ve gained a pound in weight. As well as dieting, I really need to exercise more, but my great scheme to get more exercise by walking to work has hit a snag – it’s been raining in the morning every day for the last two weeks. Oh well…
Work was the same as ever - we’ve not yet been revolutionised. The Prime Minister has today announced how he’s bringing in a new scheme whereby the running of the health service will be turned over to the GPs. I’ve mentioned before that this idea has been tried before (and abandoned) with no lessons having been learned from the exercise. In theory it’s a good idea. GPs get to choose where the money goes in the health service, what treatments will be available, and where. In practice it will be a return to a post-code lottery of health care in which the average man on the street will have to hope that he gets ill with the same thing as everyone else locally has got. With restricted finances, and the shots being called by those with vested interests in curing their specific cohort of patients (as opposed to humanity at large) money will be spent on the maladies of the local majority. Which means that if you go down with Chediakor some other such obscure disease, you’d better piss off and see what BUPA has to offer. Which would be a shame.
Whilst we’re on the subject of expensive health care issues, here’s a questionnaire you might care to complete. The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority are wrestling with some ethical dilemmas and want the public’s input. At the moment sperm and egg donors give their seed for free. In the future they may be paid for such contributions. Is that right? I don’t know, but I can’t help but feel that if the reason for paying people is because of a perceived lack of donors, then rather than paying donors, actually advertising for some might be a good plan. I’ve never seen any adverts asking for a bottle of “Badger’s Best” (!)
Mind you, expecting common sense from officialdom is being somewhat hopeful. For a series of reasons which will (probably) appear in future blog entries, I need our marriage certificate. The problem is that sometime over the last twenty four (and a bit) years we’ve lost the thing. It’s possible to obtain copies, and I wasted half an hour with Caroline at the Department for Administrative Affairs trying to get a copy. Oh, this girl was thick. She took down all the details, read them all back to me, and had the lot wrong. So we did it again. And again. She had about a dozen particulars to take down, and it took half an hour. I wonder if I’ll ever get the copy of that certificate…?
This morning I received perhaps the lamest scam email I have ever had. The spelling and grammar give it away from the start, and I *love* the name of the so-called director of the Debt Management office - Mr Abraham Nwankwo:
Meanwhile the parrot’s now been here a fortnight. For the first few days it was fun. After a week I’d rather taken to her, but could see (with my sensible head on) that having her permanently wouldn’t really work. And now after two weeks….
I’ve mentioned before that I’ve always wanted a parrot. I am *so* grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to borrow one, rather than having spent out over a thousand pounds on bird and assorted accessories. There’s no denying we all had a good laugh this evening when the parrot climbed off of her cage, marched across to ‘er indoors TM ‘s dinner plate and started helping herself to chips. But on the other hand…
It would be an exaggeration to say that I’m ready to wring the thing’s neck, but she’s messy, noisy, attention-seeking, destructive and craps willy-nilly. Take this evening for example – I gave her a piece of apple to try. She bit lumps off, and threw them across the room in all directions. Added to that whilst she doesn’t actively attack the rest of the family, she doesn’t like them, and she will bite if anyone but me goes near her. Last week she drew blood from “Daddies Little Angel TM ” And she’s not gentle with me when I stroke her. She demands that I fuss her, and when I do she tries to nip. Not nastily, but she is definitely trying to nip.
I’ve not been bitten (yet) but she’ll hold my hand in her beak like she holds the bars of her cage, and then tries to climb about using my hand (held in her beak) for leverage. She’s also very keen to nip at my shirts and to chew my watch. She flatly refuses to go back into her cage at bed-time; ‘er indoors TM has chased the bird round the living room at 1am (for over half an hour) on more than one occasion.
Talking of work; today was a bad day. I could go into great length about it. It would probably be wrong of me to do so, and on reflection I’ve decided I won’t. But I’d just ask my loyal readers a totally hypothetical question: How would you manage to work with someone who makes no secret of their contempt for all of their colleagues?
Regular readers of this drivel may recall I’m not overly impressed with English Heritage. Their website claimed Lullingstone Roman Villa was open on the Monday after the New Year. It wasn’t. Their website also claimed there was a falconry display at Battle Abbey last weekend. There wasn’t. I phoned their head office today and spoke with a very disinterested receptionist. She claimed she’d put me through to the I.T. department, but she cut me off. So I phoned back and got the phone number of the I.T. people and phoned them directly. I explained that I’d had two wasted journeys because of their website, and that much of the details on their website refer to last year’s events. The receptionist there said she’d get back to me. Or to be more specific, her words were that she’s get back to me, her tone was that I should get knotted.
And then home. I had hoped to go to the cinema this evening. There are a couple of films I’d like to see – “The King’s Speech” and “The Green Hornet” are both showing locally. There are two showings of each film this evening – one starting around 6pm, which is just a little too early. And one starting shortly after 9pm, which for a two-hour film is just a little too late. So we watched a film of Spike Milligan’s autobiography. Or we tried to. The cinema might cost more, and the films might be at awkward times, but they don’t have a parrot shouting obscenities when you’re trying to watch the film…
Over the last few days I might have given the impression that I’ve fallen out with the parrot. The parrot certainly redeemed herself last night – she climbed off her cage and marched across the floor to me. I put my hand on the floor by her, and she carried on marching up my arm. I felt quite flattered that I was allowed to hold her; the only drawback was that she wouldn’t hold on very tight, and she nearly fell off a few times. But that was last night…
Regular readers of this drivel may recall that we’ve lost our marriage certificate, and on Monday I ordered a copy. The copy cost me over twenty three quid, and it’s arrived. As I showed ‘er indoors TM the copy, so she showed me the original which she’d found. Oh, how we laughed.
As I was on a late start I took the opportunity to see what other post I had waiting for my attention. I had the bill for this last month’s mobile phone use, which is substantially less than the bill for the old phone used to be. I took part in a customer survey for Asda. They wanted to know my shopping preferences on a wide range of items. Which struck me as odd – surely they could work that out from my credit card transactions with them. After all, Tesco’s seem to do so when they send my vouchers for money off the things I regularly buy from them.
Axa Sun Life Services had written to us telling us our policy was due to mature in less than a month. I phoned them - in the first instance I needed to know exactly what policy was maturing. It turned out it was one of the endowments for the mortgage. This presented a problem – all the paperwork was made out to pay off the Portman building society. They were taken over by the Nationwide some time ago. And all the paperwork included the name of a Ms Gardner. ‘er indoors TM hasn’t been that for twenty four years.
The chap at Axa was helpful. The endowment we took out isn’t going to pay off the mortgage; it’s going to be a couple of thousand pounds short. Not as bad as it might have been really, but at the time we were led to believe it would pay off the mortgage and we’d have several thousand pounds cash in our hands. I might just have a quiet word with the chap who sold me the endowment and see if I can’t shame him into covering the shortfall out of his own pocket – after all it was my own father in law. Failing that, I’ll have to resort to the policy we took out ten years ago to make up the difference.
The chap at Axa did tell me to contact the building society to be sure that all would be well at their end. So I phoned the Nationwide building society who assured me all would be well. I need to write back to Axa Sun Life – I’ll do that tomorrow – if my printer works. I am reliably informed that it doesn’t any more. And to add insult to injury, the nice chap at Axa Sun Life said he didn’t need to see the copy of our marriage certificate. I’d only got the thing for him (!)
Canada Life wrote to me to tell me that the payments on ‘er indoors TM pension were going up. And Aspinalls wrote to me – I donate monthly to their zoos. They’d sent me a money off voucher in November which I opened today. I have a couple of weeks to use it. I bet I don’t…
mentioned that I phoned English Heritage to complain about their website. A
very contrite sounding lady phoned me today to apologize for their failings.
She offered no excuses, but openly admitted they’d stuffed up. Apparently
they had some big revamp to their website last year which had stuffed up some
of the dates. I took the opportunity to point out that for a lot of their
And the just as I was about to leave for work, Eon phoned wanting to save me money on my gas and leccie bill. They got quite snotty when I told them I wasn’t interested. On the one hand I suppose that the bloke phoning me up is only doing his job. On the other hand I have specifically told BT that I don’t want people phoning me up trying to sell me things.
To work via Sainsbury’s Being on a late I thought they might have got round to putting out their salad bar. They had – it was nice (as far as salad goes!) And while I was in the area I filled my car with petrol at their filling station. I shall go there more often. I usually go to the Tesco ones, where the petrol pumps are much closer together. You can drive through the Sainsbury’s filling station without worrying that you’re going to scrape up against other cars.
Work was much the same as ever, and then home. I wasted about half an hour trying to find somewhere within half a mile of my house where I could park. The roads were all parked solid – eventually I saw a car pull out and I had his space.
And then I came home and went mad. Last night the parrot got back into my good graces. This evening every time I tried to speak she screamed as loud as she could. I gave up trying to have a conversation. And trying to watch the telly became a rather futile exercise too.
The news had something of interest today. The TV channel “Dave” is making a new series of the cult sci-fi comedy “Red Dwarf”. There were a special three episodes of the show made over Easter in 2009 – I use the word “special” inappropriately because those episodes weren’t special. They were rather mediocre actually. I watched those new episodes on April 13th 2009, and at the time I commented “…and I was vaguely disappointed. I can’t help but think that over eight seasons, the whole premise of the show had been done to death. Last night’s special was obviously just trying to milk more money out of a tired formula. …. “Red Dwarf – Back To Earth” was OK, but I’d seen it all before. There was nothing new or original about the thing - it was just yet another tired re-make. It speaks volumes that the second episode on Saturday got less than half the viewing figures that the first episode on Friday got.”
Don’t get me wrong – I liked Red Dwarf when it first came out – and the first few seasons were good. But there are only so many jokes you can get from any formula before it becomes tired. And to be blunt, Red Dwarf was milked dry about three seasons before the BBC realised that.
news had something which made me think. Baroness Warsi is concerned that
anti-Muslim feeling is rife in the
Somewhere else where my judgement may be awry is in my location. Specifically in that I was playing with the sat-nav on my mobile phone the other day, and posted my address up on Facebook. Several good friends have suggested that it was a daft thing to do; friends whose opinions I value.
So I’ve been thinking about this. Is where I live such a secret? I played around on the net. I found my address listed on several web sites including lookuppeople.co.uk, 192.com and the electoral register within a couple of minutes (admittedly the electoral register cost me a few pence). So my address is a matter of public record. But that proves nothing – I suppose my name appears on those searches because somewhere along the line I ticked (or did not tick) a box to allow this to happen.
The initial point remains valid. Should I be wary about revealing where I live? I can see that for some professionals (teachers, policeman, etc) this might be advisable. I suppose that if I were to use the feature on the sat-nav regularly then some pattern might emerge – and I can also see that advertising when I’m not home might be daft, being an open invitation to burglary. But then what with two adult children (and their associated entourages) coming and going, the house is rarely (if ever) empty for any length of time.
Being on another late start gave me time to worry over mortgage paperwork. Yesterday I spoke with someone at the building society. As the day wore on, I didn’t think that he’d told me the right information, so I got out all the records I could find. The chap I’d spoken to yesterday had overlooked we’d added ten thousand pounds onto our mortgage when we moved house in 1991. So we are going to be rather further in the red than we thought. Or we would have been, left to our original advice. Thanks to our own disaster limitation policy taken out a few years back we will be in the black; just not quite as much as I would have liked.
To any of my loyal readers who are considering taking out a mortgage, please learn from my mistake and don’t get an endowment one. Far from being the nice little earner that was promised, it only managed to cover about 80% of the minimum we expected from it…
Yesterday I complained about anti-Muslim bias in our society. Today I might run the risk of fanning the flames of that bias, but a small minority of Muslims do very little (if anything) to help themselves. Take today’s news in which a young Muslim lady (one of the stars of the Harry Potter films) found herself fearing for her life. She was attacked and savagely beaten by her own brother because his anti-non-Muslim prejudices made him unhappy about her choice of friends. This story will go down well in the right wing newspapers…
Yesterday I also touched on my mortgage problems. But I’m not the only one with money worries. Spare a thought for the poor boating fraternity. Back in the day, when multi-millionaires wanted a bigger luxury yacht it was easy to sell your smaller one to an up and coming wannabe millionaire. (Bear in mind here that a “smaller yacht” can comfortably accommodate more people than my house can!)
But nowadays up and coming wannabe millionaires aren’t so common, and those that can be found don’t seem to want yachts. So those who’ve upgraded to bigger yachts whilst fully expecting to sell their smaller ones have found themselves stuck with smaller yachts that they can’t sell. And because they can’t sell them, they are still liable for the ongoing running and mooring costs of said vessel. Running costs which can come to over a million quid each year.
To work, which was hard work, and then home. Martin was waiting for me: not his idea. He’d bought a new bike (still boxed) and was carrying the box full of bike parts home. Heaven knows how I’d manage to lug the thing ten yards: he’d lugged it half a mile, and would have lugged it all the way to his house had “Daddies Little Angel TM ” not caught him and insisted he waited for me to take the thing in my car.
delivered we collected
And then we
set off to
And at the risk of sounding like a penny-pinching old miser…. I bought a round of four drinks in the Druids Arms. I went halves on a round of five drinks at the theatre, so I know how much money was spent. For the cost of those six and a half pints of beer and two Malibu & coke I could brew five gallons of beer at home….
We’d planned an early start, so ‘er indoors TM set her alarm. When it went off (making noises and flashing lights) I watched her snore through the thing’s efforts, and left her snoring for a few more minutes before kicking her awake.
Next doors dogs were staging a riot (as usual), and as I shaved I could hear what I could only describe as “World War III” as the dogs all chased each other round the garden. Mind you, it did strike me as odd that the people next door waited until all the snarling and barking had finished before they went into the garden to shout at the dogs. But I suppose excessive noise early on a Sunday morning is never a bad thing.
The birthday boy arrived on time, and having collected the Chip, we set off for McBreakfast. In the past I’ve been a great fan of McBreakfast, but I’ve not had it for ages. Since I’ve been away they’ve stopped doing McFruit Toast, which is a shame (if you like McFruit Toast), but a sausage and egg McMuffin slipped down nicely.
brekkie scoffed, we set off for a walk. Whitstable has always been a popular
place to wander along the prom. We were there two weeks ago and noticed
something in the distance out at sea, so today we went to
And then we had a
mooch along the prom, which was far better than the one at Whitstable.
The prom at Whitstable is a good place to walk, but there is
very little there – endless beach huts and a little café after a mile or so.
The town doesn’t actually have a sea front: the town is inland.
And once back to
And then onwards – there was more to investigate. Specifically an ice cream parlour near where we’d parked. I was told it was too cold for ice cream. I disagreed, and whilst everyone else had coffee and hot chocolate, I had a toffee ice cream sundae. The ice cream parlour is another place that is crying out to be re-visited: they do cod and chips for seven quid, and if there are three of you in your party, they give you a free bottle of plonk.
Once it warms up a bit we shall go
back. There are several plans afoot: parking at Whitstable and walking
Yesterday I mentioned about going for a walk. One of my favourite places to walk (but it’s too muddy at this time of year) is our very own Kings Wood. It’s ironic that within a couple of months of my joining the Friends of Kings Wood, the place’s future is looking very uncertain Basically the major party in our coalition government has plans to sell off great chunks of the publicly owned woodlands in Britain.
Perhaps I am wrong to use the phrase “sell off” – the correct terminology used by our leaders was “consulting on new ownership options", but I’m afraid that I’m old enough to remember a previous government which was completely Con-servative. Back in the day British Telecom (among *lots* of other companies) was publicly owned – like the NHS and the schools, and the air we breathe it belonged to everyone. But the government sold British Telecom. It was very cleverly done: everyone had the option to buy shares, but of course only those rich enough could afford to, and there weren’t that many shares to be bought. So the whole thing was hyped up, and those that could afford the shares bought them. Those that wanted shares but found there was none left offered to buy shares from those that had some. And so they bought the shares at vastly inflated prices. Such was the demand that I knew of people who spent £250 on BT shares one day and received back £500 from selling their investment the next day.
That’s one hundred per cent profit. It’s called capitalism, and it is one way to run a country. I am reliably informed from people whose opinions I value that it is a very effective way to run a country. And having seen both Con-servative and Labour governments I find that I must concede that the capitalistic way does seem to run an efficient country.
A morally bankrupt one, maybe, but what do I know? In the meantime, I see that a lot of celebrities have joined the campaign to save Britain’s woodlands. Any tired old lefties amongst my loyal readership can save the trees by signing the on-line petition here. After all, (to quote an Old Native American proverb) "Only when the last tree is cut; only when the last river is polluted; only when the last fish is caught; only then will they realize that you cannot eat money"
readers of this drivel may recall that over the Xmas period I was struggling
to make a working PC out of the leftover fragments from previous PC
maintenance sessions. I’ve now got a working PC cobbled together from the one
that “Daddies Little Angel TM ” used
to use. It’s nothing special, but with the installation of a network card I
can back up my photographs to it. It never fails to amaze me how much the
technology moves on. A digital photo from 1998 takes up 54Kb disc space. They
aren’t the sharpest photos in the world, but they don’t take up much space.
Photographs taken yesterday on my new phone take up 1.8Mb each. That’s over
one old floppy disk’s worth. Yesterday’s album of photographs taken on my
And in closing, regular readers may recall that I am on a diet. Following last week’s successful gain of one pound, it has to be said that I didn’t really bother with the diet last week. KFC, trifle, fry-up, pub lunch and a couple of pints all went down well. This morning at the grand weigh-in I found I’ve lost three pounds. What’s that all about?
I have been accused of being very anti-government in my rantings lately. So to give a rounded view on our leaders, I shall agree with them for a change. Today's radio had a shocking expose on the Government’s schemes to put a cap on family credit. At the moment the more children you have, the more benefits you get. Clearly breeding can become a lucrative profession. The government has decided to put a stop to this: people who choose to breed like rabbits will not be subsidized by the tax payer to do so. And rightly so (!)
who seemed to think that the Government shouldn’t interfere with people’s rights to breed like rabbits. One wonders how such seemingly well-meaning bodies such as Family Action get sidelined by these crackpot ideas.
And talking of crackpot ideas, over the weekend I ordered some insoles for my shoes from eBay. A silly little thing that cost me a couple of quid. Today I got an email from the seller who asked if as well as giving her good feedback, would I also give her five stars on her seller ratings. She tried to claim that if I didn’t then I personally would be responsible for her falling sales and presumable for her having to sell her children for medical experiments to make ends meet. I was left feeling that I wanted to give her a bad rating purely for her cheek in asking for a good rating before she’d actually delivered the goods. So much for the eBay feedback and rating system having any merit.
This episode reminded me of the
many failings of the pub reviewing websites which I frequent. Take for
example a pub within half an hour’s drive of my house. I’ve never been to
the Unicorn Inn in
Having shown the failings of rating service providers via internet websites, it’s strange then that the Government has announced its plans to remove it’s backing to the wayhotel stars are issued in favour of having some sort of on-line popularity contest…
The parrot’s been here for three weeks now, and what can I say? Well, actually I can say quite a lot as my loyal readers have found out over the years. But on the subject of the parrot I must admit that having been offered the option to take her on permanently, I have pretty much decided against doing so. It wouldn’t be fair on the parrot as she wants so much attention, and I don’t have the time to spend fussing her. And those who would be more inclined to spend time with the parrot find that they get bitten for their efforts. Because she wants me and (seemingly) no one else is good enough. Also I don’t have the patience with her when it’s time for her to get back in her cage, her noise is really beginning to get on my wick (!) and I didn’t realise what a messy animal she is.
Originally the plan was for “My Boy TM ” to be much more involved with the parrot, but his contribution hasn’t lived up to expectations. Having said that, the parrot has learned a new phrase – “f*!king bird!!” uttered in a fair imitation of “My Boy TM ” ‘s voice. Talking of “My Boy TM ”, he’s had a new tattoo. I quite like the lips, and may well have them done myself. He assures me he can do such a tattoo on me – it’s just a case of deciding where on my anatomy to have them engraved.
I was on an early start at work today, which meant for an early finish. Which was for the best – I’d burst the gusset out of my troosers, and needed to get more. Asda had none in my size, and it’s been my experience that smart trousers from Tesco’s cost a fiver and look like they cost a fiver. So I popped round to Matalans. I eventually found a pair, but I had to search for them. It has to be said that (like Asda) they don’t seem to cater to the more rotund physique. I suppose this could be God’s way of telling me to get back on that diet, but there are a lot of people bigger than me out there in this world. Where do they get their troosers?
Being the last Wednesday of the month we set off to arky-ologee club. Tonight was billed as “Members Talks”; the idea being that club members gave short talks on various subjects. The evening started well with young Anthony giving a talk on his trip toIron Bridge in Shropshire. Young Anthony is the club’s youngest member. The second youngest member is probably thirty years older than young Anthony, so the lad must be praised for his courage in standing up and speaking. The lad did really well - far better than the adults managed.
Frank and some unspecified “wotsisname” had both offered to talk, but neither showed up. And “Re-enactment Andrew” had forgotten he’d said he’d do (or have) a turn, but offered to nip back home to get some props.
So as a space-filler whilst we waited for “Re-enactment Andrew” to come back, the club chairwoman read bits from this month’s “Arky-ologee Gazette”. As I recall it was some old drivel about some Roman artefact. I was dozing quite a bit; it was dire. It was then followed by an impromptu five minutes from our resident Riddler. Mossop droned on about the historical changes to the parish boundaries in some villages of which I have never heard and about which I don’t care.
Just as I was giving up the will to live, “Re-enactment Andrew” returned with his props, and he waxed loquacious on his hobby. Some people collect stamps, others spend hours looking at the stars through telescopes. Some walk or cycle. “Re-enactment Andrew” gets together with a gaggle of like minded people who all pretend they are still fighting the battle of Waterloo. He brought along his footsoldier uniform which was (apparently) an accurate recreation of a uniform of the time.
Yesterday I had a rant about how rubbish the arky-ologee club was. I’d actually forgotten that at some time over the last few months I’d mentioned to a colleague that I went to the club, and she expressed some interest. She went to yesterday’s meeting, and today I found myself in the impossible position of apologizing for the club’s piss-poor performance last night.
Following on from a comment I read on Facebook last night, I turned on the i-player and watched an episode of “Horizon”. It would seem that there is a growing disillusionment with the entire concept of “Science” The program featured people from all walks of life who seemed not to believe what the scientific pundits were claiming. Global warming, the HIV virus, the safety of genetically modified food all came under attack, disbelief and scorn. The presenter was asking why science isn’t convincing the public any more.
In the past I’ve often commented that the future never turned out quite how I expected. As a child I saw the moon landings. I’ve seen computers grow from multi-million pound things being the size of a house to cheap things you carry round in your pocket. I’ve seen the amount of TV channels I can get grow from three to a thousand. I’ve seen the excavation of a railway tunnel under the English Channel. I live in an amazingly technological and scientific age. So why is it that the vast majority of humanity is still in thrall to quack medicine and crackpot religions? Seemingly intelligent people in the twenty first century still believe in snake oils and pyramid power.
Science doesn’t actually know everything. Science is all about trying to explain what’s going on. Take for example the complement system. Complement is a series of chemicals in the mammalian body which are (in broadest terms) involved in defending the body from germs. A textbook on complement from thirty years ago would be three feet thick because back then it was thought that complement did absolutely everything (including making the tea!) Twenty five years ago the textbook got a bit thinner as it was discovered that complement did not actually make the tea. And so, as more was discovered, so the textbook got thinner. Today there’s still a lot not known about complement, but we know more than we did.
Or consider haemophilia A. We know that people with this condition have excessive bruising and they have greatly reduced levels of clotting factor eight in their blood. And we know exactly how all the clotting factors interact to make blood clot. But theory tells us that clotting factor eight isn’t actually that important in the process. The experience of someone with haemophilia A tells a very different story. Again science has a lot to learn.
But human nature doesn’t like the scientific method. Admitting ignorance in the first place, and then admitting that what was once thought to be true is in fact wrong doesn’t sit well with many people. Most people prefer good hard incontrovertible facts. Even if they are being told something which is wrong, people prefer to be told something decisive than the vague wooliness which is often the best that science can come up with.
Take for example Radio Four – seen by many as the Voice of Reason in the UK. At 7.45am (ish) every morning there is a “Thought for the Day” delivered by various theologians. I defy anyone who considers themselves to be a rational person to listen to what the speaker has to say without laughing out loud at the gaping inconsistencies in their logic. Logic and thought doesn’t come into what they are saying. They are presenting stark nonsense as a fact.
But facts are what the public want, regardless of their actual veracity. The public doesn’t want to think, they want to be told. And being told firmly is what they want to hear. Which explains the success of religions (and charismatic politicians…. but that’s one for another time)…..
A week ago I mentioned that our soon to be maturing mortgage endowment was still iner indoors TM’s maiden name. I sent the company a letter explaining what had happened (we’d got married!), and at not inconsiderable expense I sent them a duplicate of the marriage certificate. They returned that certificate on Wednesday, and then today I got a letter from them. They found it somewhat odd that I should be trying to change the name of one of the beneficiaries of the policy only a few weeks before the policy was due to pay out. And so they were writing to me to tell me that they were about to implement various identity verification procedures to ensure that Ms Gardner wasn’t being diddled.
So I phoned them to see what was going on. Before they would discuss the matter I had to answer various security checks, one of which was about the bank account from which the policy payments had been made. I told them that I thought it was rather odd that they were disputing er indoors TM ‘s married name, bearing in mind that name was on the bank account which has been making the payments for this policy for the last twenty-odd years.
Being the last Friday of the month, tonight was astro club. Following on from the success of Stargazing Live earlier in the month, tonight was a busy night. As always I arrived promptly, and helped set up. Seeing as we were having a telescope workshop we thought we’d need space for the scopes. So we put out sixty five chairs and left a space for scopes at the back of the hall. I meeted and greeted so many people, and in the end we needed to fill much of the area we’d earmarked for telescopes with more seating.
We started the evening with an introduction to what’s new in the world of astronomy. And then we had the results of the membership survey: we’d asked the membership what they liked about the club, and what we could improve. About half the membership returned their survey forms, and on the whole they are happy with what’s going on. Which is good. By now everyone had arrived and was settled down (apart from the dozen for whom there weren’t enough chairs) and I counted eighty five people in the hall.
Then we moved on to the main part of the evening – an introduction to telescopes – from what the beginner wants through to more advanced astro-photography scopes, ending up with some rather expensive kit indeed. I learned loads, and then I hawked the raffle. It always amazes me how much money the raffle and the constellation game brings in. I shout and holler at people to hand over their money, and in ten minutes we’ve covered the cost of the hall hire and heating, and made a little profit for the club too.
And then we had a telescope workshop in earnest. About a dozen scopes were set up in the hall; some working, some not so. While some club members who actually know about telescopes held impromptu tutorials, I wandered round offering to collimate telescopes. I’ve learned how to do this: to collimate a telescope one shines a laser pointer into the scope, and then one sucks air in through one’s teeth whilst shaking one’s head in the manner of a tradesman who’s about to charge you an arm and a leg for five minutes’ work.
Since the sky was completely overcast we couldn’t do the planned telescope session outside, so instead we projected the night sky from a laptop, and had a talk on the features of interest in the winter sky. And rather than clearing the chairs away, I got to supervise volunteers who put the chairs away for me. Sterling fellows!
I checked the news over some brekkie. Today’s news (for a change) brought a smile to my face. Shaun the Sheep is going to star in a movie. I couldn’t believe it’s now sixteen years since Shaun first appeared on our TV screens.
I then set off to work for a few hours. I’ve been doing a lot of extra Saturday mornings lately, and although the money is nice, I am fed up with working every Saturday. But the time passed, and soon enough I came home. With a few minutes to spare, I installed the ultra sonic rat deterrent. Over last summer all the neighbours have claimed to have seen rats in the gardens. I haven’t, but I think I heard something scurrying inside the bathroom ceiling the other day, so I’ve got an ultrasonic wotsit. It might deter rats, it might not. Time will tell.
Last night at the astro club we had a telescope workshop. My plan was to chat to the telescope experts to find out what one would be best for me. In practice this turned out to be somewhat impractical, as all of the experts were busy with the normal people. So I arranged with Luigi to visit his shop this afternoon to have a chat. The sat-nav got us to within a hundred yards of the place, and then left us to our own devices. We found the place easily enough, but when we were searching for the place, it seemed like ages. We had a good chat, and I ordered a sexy telescope with go-to function and go-faster stripes. It should arrive mid-week.
Since we were in the area we then popped up to Camping International. They were having a sale. Last year I saw a tent there I liked, and on June 19 I wrote “Today there was a bargain in which I got the tent, a really thick groundsheet, a carpet and a door mat all at a super-bargain price. And then they offered 10% off of the super-bargain price, so I felt I had to take them up on the offer”. Today they were selling the same bargain one hundred pounds cheaper than I paid for it last year. Oh, how I smiled.
I slept all the way home, and then decanted the latest batch of beer into the barrel. “Pickled Parrot” is another dark beer – I was hoping for something like a porter, and although it’s still rather young, it’s not a bad drop.
‘er indoors TM ordered a Domino’s pizza for tea – she’d won a competition and a free pizza was the prize. Very tasty, and it turned out that the parrot likes pizza crusts. The parrot doesn’t like anything that all the books say that parrots like. Apples, grapes, all kinds of fruit just get spat across the room in contempt. But she likes chips and pizza. Rather like me, I suppose.
And as ‘er indoors TM went out to a friend’s party, I spent the evening dozing in front of the telly. Tonight I had the offer of a party, or going to the cinema, but I chose to spend the time dozing. Probably better to doze at home than in company…
I am often amazed by the criminal element in society. Thuggery and violence must be condemned, but I must admit to a sneaking admiration for bare faced cheek. A few years ago a friend who worked at a London hospital told me how a TV was stolen from a staff rest room in a secure area. The thief just walked up to a locked door and banged on it. When a member of the staff came to answer the door, the thief calmly announced he’d come to service the TV in the rest room, and asked directions. He got himself taken to the rest room, where he picked up the telly and carried it out. Just as he was about to leave the building another member of staff got suspicious and asked for some identification. At this point the chap dropped the telly and ran.
Something similar is going on over at Amazon. You can get the details here: in a nutshell what’s happened is that if you call up books written by one Peter Michelsen, you’ll see the chap has written a lot of books, and is selling his wares. However if you look closely at the books he’s selling, you’ll see he’s not actually the author. He’s blagged loads of people’s work. Take for example this book. You can clearly see the author’s name is not Peter Michelsen. And if you click here you can get the book for free.
I must admit I’m not at all impressed that a good friend is having his work blatantly stolen for profit. And the chap perpetrating this scam isn’t overly bright – after all he’s not even changed the authors’ names on the pictures of the books he’s lifted.
But whilst I think that what he’s done is theft, is wrong, and must be punished, I’m afraid that a part of me can’t help admiring his nerve in doing what he’s done. I'd never dare try something like that.
This entire episode has made me think though. Some of the pictures on this blog are blatantly blagged from elsewhere on the Internet. In my defence I’m not making money from anyone else’s efforts. And quite often when I do blag someone else’s pictures I do spend quite a bit of time adjusting and re-colouring them.
Take for example today’s picture. One is the original, lifted from the web page athttp://bio150.chass.utoronto.ca/oif/app-cite.html, one is the same picture after I spent ten minutes tweaking it. Am I wrong to be doing this?
Meanwhile back in my world, with brekkie scoffed, once “Daddies Little Angel TM ”and her chauffer had arrived we set off on the day’s mission. First of all to the International Hotel where the Invicta Arachnid club were having a show. Breeders and spider enthusiasts were selling spiders and all the kit you’d need to keep one.
Whilst I had no plans whatsoever to buy any spiders, it was something that doesn’t happen very often, so we thought we’d give it a go. As did half the population of Kent, judging by the crowds in the place. But we got to see mantises, stick insects, scorpions, and some HUGE spiders. And I met up with an old friend from the days of the snake club. There was one very nice terrarium for sale – complete with tarantula the whole lot was up for sale at twenty quid. Had I not spent a squillion quid yesterday on my new telescope I would probably have bought that spider.
And then onwards. To the Isle of Sheppey and Whelan’s. I’ve waxed loquacious about Whelans in the past. Today they let me down. I was hoping to get some flat paving slabs I could lay down in the back garden to make a flat area for my telescope (when it arrives). But they don’t do paving slabs. They did do a very nice garden table with a chess board marked on it though…
Whilst we were in the area the Rear Admiral wanted to make a visit to Eastchurch for sentimental reasons. The soppy old thing (!) Whilst he revisited old haunts I realised I was getting peckish. I must admit that I’m not very familiar with the Sheppey area, so I downloaded the McDonalds Locator app for my phone. It downloaded, but didn’t work. But we found some McDinner easily enough. A quarter-pounder with cheese, some fries and a toffee sundae (all washed down with a banana shake) made for an excellent, if unconventional, Sunday lunch.
Our next stop was Herne Common (as opposed to “Bay”) where we mooched around the camping shop and the Rear Admiral got a camping chair. Or he claims it’s a camping chair. It looks like a “camp” chair to me, but what do I know?
Almost next door to the camping shop is Vanishing World, probably the best pet shop for miles around. We looked at the fish and fluffies, and I got very gooey over the snakes. And the chap showed us the Leopard Geckoes. I have never seen such a selection of Leopard Geckoes: I had no idea they came in so many colours and patterns. And they were offering a bargain whereby you could get a vivarium and all the kit and one Leopard Gecko all for £135. This was something else that had I not spent a squillion quid yesterday on my new telescope I would probably have bought.
And then the parrot threw up. I’ve heard of the expression “sick as a parrot” – now I’ve seen it. It’s my opinion that she drank too much tea. I never see her at her water bowls, but she does like a cup of tea. I’m hoping it's nothing serious and that she just had too much tea this afternoon – after all what she honked was all fluid, and she seems as perky as ever.
I am often amazed by the general public’s ability to take stark nonsense as incontrovertible fact. Take for example the anti-government Facebook group “ConDem-nation”. A recent post there sounds eminently reasonable: “A 1% Tax on all Banking Profits would clear the national Debt Immediately without a single tax on the public having to be raised”. On reading that I found myself fired with righteous indignation. Why should those fat-cat bankers be allowed to get away with it? And then I actually gave the matter some thought and two minutes on-line research.
With a national debt currently of the order of one thousand billion pounds (according to the Internet), the implication is that last year banks in the UK made a profit of over one hundred thousand billion pounds. However the “real” fact is that they didn’t make anything like this amount. HSBC’s profit was just under two billion pounds. Even taxing one hundred percent of their profit wouldn’t come close to what is needed. In fact it would only raise less than 0.002% of the required amount of money. And HSBC are one of the more profitable banks.
Another so-called “fact” about government policy is given by the informal blog of the Trade Union Congress. Apparently the government believes that as it cuts back on a lot of social programs, then the voluntary sector will step in. But apparently “the evidence is mounting that state provision is the enabler of voluntary action, not a barrier.”
But for proper volunteering… take for example the local scout hut roof. When I was involved with the local scouts (for thirteen years) we needed money to repair the leaking roof. But we got nothing for that knacked roof through official channels. However it was intimated if we were more politically correct then money would be forthcoming. How does one make a scout group more politically correct? It’s open to absolutely anyone who wants to join. Perhaps we didn’t have the correct quota of African-American disabled lesbian non-male children? But whatever the reason, the funding of a scout group is utterly independent of government policy. With zero support currently being given, how can the government’s policy do any harm?
Or take the “shortage” of volunteers in hospitals. As vital services are cut back, economies can be made in all sorts of areas. Because those who run hospitals know that every hospital has a League of Fiends who will step into the breach. Go into any hospital in the country – where once you would see nurses and secretarial types in outpatient clinics, nowadays it will be an unpaid volunteer.
Clearly the Internet is full of gibberish, but twits still post this stuff on-line, and other twits without the powers of rational thought lap it up. And these twits are allowed to vote, and to be on juries, and to have children….