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1 October 2011 (Saturday) -
Wiltshire
A reasonably prompt start on our long
weekend. Once I'd got some petrol in the car, we set off. The M20 and M26
were as well as could be expected, but there was a dodgy five minutes on the
M25: some twonk was weaving in and out of the lanes
of traffic at very high speed. It was clearly only going to be a matter of
time until he wrapped himself around a lamp post.
The M3 was a different matter though.
Traffic was stopping and starting seemingly at random. From going at a steady
70mph we were down to going at barely walking pace. And then suddenly the
traffic started moving again. And then it all slowed again. Four times we
went from national speed limit to standstill and back. Leaving the motorway
for the A303 came as a blessed relief.
We stopped at the first services we could
find, and had a diet sandwich, diet shandy and
snack a jacks (oh yes!), and then
hit the road again. and then just as we came over
the brow of the hill....
Have you ever driven westwards along the
A303? That road was designed by a half-wit. Just as you come over the brow of
a hill, you get a glorious view of Stonehenge. And the view is so breathtaking that you can't think of anything but that
view. And then suddenly you realise that you are travelling at high speed
toward a queue of stationary traffic, and find yourself doing an emergency
stop, whilst very conscious that the person behind you is still enthralled
with the view in front, and is approaching the back of your car at warp
factor nine.
Having successfully avoided writing off my
car (it has to be said more through
luck than judgement), we parked up in the car park. I must admit that i was surprised at how many people had gone to
Stonehenge. I was expecting a few people; maybe a dozen at most. There were
hundreds of people, if not thousands. I
suppose Stonehenge isn't your average English Heritage attraction.
Being English Heritage members, we got for
free. Which was for the best. In all honesty I would
have resented paying £7.50 to have got into the place.
The stones were a lot smaller than I was
expecting. There was no visitor centre showing exhibits and displays. In
retrospect, Stonehenge was something of a disappointment: we'd seen the lot
in twenty minutes. If any of my loyal readers are thinking of going to
Stonehenge, don't pay to go in. You can see every bit as much from the
roadside.
Having planned to spend the entire afternoon
at Stonehenge and finding we were all done before 2pm, we were at something
of a loose end. A quick browse through the English Heritage manual showed us
that old
Wardour Castle was not far away. So we
activated 'er indoors' sat-nav
to find the place.
It has to be said that the sat nav did not live up to expectations. It had us make a bee-line for the narrowest
country lane it could find and, having got us several miles into the back of
beyond it then announced it had lost it's
GPS signal, and then it gave up the ghost. From there on in we were left to
our own devices. After I'd got rather cross with the entire concept of
satellite aided navigation and we'd rebooted it several times, we found a
sign to the castle. The fact that the sign was pointing back the way we'd
come just boiled my piss even more.
So, having found the castle (with no thanks to sat-nav
technology), we popped into the gift shop to get a crafty Solero. And then we started mooching round the place. The
audio guides brought it to life. There was loads to see, the castle, for all
that it was in ruins, had four floors that we could explore, a lake, a
separate banqueting house, and even a grotto.
It was perhaps somewhat ironic that at one
point I found myself idly speculating on the practicalities of how the
custodians closed the place up at the evening, because when we decided to
pack up and go home we not only found the kiosk was shut up, but that the
main gate was locked, and we were locked in. Fortunately being naturally
lithe and agile (!) I was able to climb the walls and jump gracefully to
freedom. er indoors made a
bit of a debbie climbing the wall, but soon we were
free, and cursing the jobsworth who'd left us
stranded.
By now it was getting on for 5pm, and so we
thought we'd best make our way to our B&B. We set off in what was
possibly the right direction, ignoring the sat-nav which was making various unhelpful contradictory
comments as we went along. We eventually found the village of Fovant, and the Pembroke Arms. And found the Pembroke
Arms was locked. Having been locked into the castle, we were now locked out
of our digs.
A quick phone call got the landlord to the
door, and soon we were ensconced.
Chatting with the landlord we found that
the pub didn't actually open for another hour, so we went
for a little stroll. Firstly to see the Fovant
Badges; military badges carved into the chalk hills. And then we walked into
the nearby village and watched the trout swimming in the river. Another
hour's exercise before dinner was a good plan.
Exercise built up our appetites: when we
got back to the Pembroke Arms, we had dinner. A double rack of ribs, chips, pavlova, and a few pints of local beer.
And then suddenly I realised I was
exhausted..... Back to our room where we watched "Bedazzled" and "Pinky and the Brain"
(Freeview is a wonderful thing)
before having an early night.
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2 October 2011 (Sunday) - Bath
We'd asked for an 8am breakfast. There are
those who might think that was a tad early, but holiday is too good to waste slobbing about. All thoughts of diet went straight out of
the window when "Mine Host"
mentioned the possibility of a full English breakfast. That went down very
nicely. As we chatted with the landlord, we found that in years gone by he
had once acted as the relief manager of the Honest Miller - a favourite pub
of hours which is somewhere we've cycled to in the past.
Once brekkied, we
were anxious to make the most of the day, and so we paid our bill, and were
on the road before 9.30am. And having forgiven the sat-nav for yesterday's fiasco, we gave the thing a second
chance. I wish we hadn't. It got us as far as Bath, and then started shouting
random directions. I was all for throwing the thing out of the window, and I
gave up and parked up in the first car park I could find. I must admit that I
thought paying over seven pounds for a day's parking was a tad excessive, but
I wasn't prepared to drive any further. Not with the sat-nav in the mood it was in.
Fortunately we were only ten minutes walk from the Roman baths, and that was our main
port of call for the day. We stumped up our cash, picked up the audio guides,
and set off inside. If any of my loyal readers are ever in Bath, I can
certainly recommend the Roman Baths as a place to visit. There was loads to see, the audio guide was really good, the
staff were helpful, and it kept us out of mischief for over two hours.
Having paid to see the Roman Baths, we were
also entitled to free admission to the Bath Museum of Fashion. So, working on
the principle that something for nothing is always good, we went to have a
look-see.
Oh dear!
It's probably fair to say that in my time I
have endured more tedious ordeals than the Bath Museum of Fashion. But those
ordeals have been very few, and far between. The museum started off with a
display of a couple of dozen wedding dresses, and progressively got worse.
There were five rather dire dresses from God knows when, some manikins
dressed up as fugitives from the 1960s, and a Petula
Clark album cover nailed to a wall. At one point I felt rather nervous - with
all the showroom dummies I was having Doctor Who flashbacks. But if the
manikins had turned out to be Autons, quite frankly
the excitement would have come as a blessed relief. It was with a sense of
joy that I found the exit to this dreadful museum.
In retrospect it only took twenty minutes
to go round the Bath Museum of Fashion, but there's no denying it was twenty
minutes which were totally wasted.
We then browsed around some of the shops;
killing time until 2pm. We'd found that at 2pm there were guided tours of
Bath, and we made our way to the assembly point. As did a dozen or so others.
We found our guide, and spent a very pleasant couple of hours walking round
Bath. The guide pointed out all sorts of little snippets of history that
otherwise would have passed me by. We found all sorts of oddities in the back
streets: the houses of the artist Gainsborough, and of the first Prime
Minister Pitt the Younger. We saw where the posh would have lived in days
gone by: we saw where a direct descendant of the Duke of Wellington had won a
battle with the highest court in the land over the colour of her front door.
We saw where Jane Austen's heroes had walked. We saw all sorts of basements
and crypts under the roads that we would so loved
to have explored. And as we walked between the places where we stopped, I
chatted with the guide. He was a really friendly, knowledgeable chap with a
genuine love of his city, and of showing tourists round.
It was a really good tour. And
a good day. But all too soon it had ended, and conscious that our car
parking ticket was about to run out, we made our way back to the car.
And so on to
our B&B (which would be home
for the next two nights). The sat-nav did it's
best, and despite a couple of false starts and a couple of signal failures we
eventually found our way to Bathford and Garston
Cottage.
It would have been nice to have stayed in
another pub, but Garston Cottage seemed to fit the bill. A little old lady
showed us to our room, and after a couple of minutes settling in, we set off
for a bit of exploring round the local area. We mooched around the footpaths
for half an hour (and found a river) before
making our way to the nearby pub for some tea.
The Crown was the only pub within walking
distance. But we'd been told that the food was good. Apparently it had won an
award for serving the best roast dinners in the Bath area. A well deserved award. Roast lamb went down very nicely, as
did a bowl of Eskimo Mess. For those who've never sampled the delight, Eskimo
Mess is just like Eton Mess, but with ice cream. The whole lot was washed
down with a couple of pints of Gem Ale from the Bath brewery.
In fact the only fault I could find with
the Crown was that it was at the bottom of the hill: going back to the
B&B was a bit of a slog!
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3
October 2011 (Monday) - Cheddar Gorge
Another 8am brekkie.
This one was somewhat marred by having to make polite conversation with the
normal people who were also staying in the B&B. But with brekkie scofffed we soon set
off.
We gave ‘er
indoors TM sat-nav one last chance,
and it’s fair to say the device exceeded the misgivings of even it’s staunchest critics. It
waited until we came to the second roundabout of the journey, directed us
back to the first roundabout, and then tried to get us to drive to and fro
between the roundabouts.
I'd had enough, and I got my sat-nav out. That gave us some no-nonsense directions, and
soon we
were in Cheddar. We parked up, and managing to shake off the old biddy who wouldn't shut up about the courtesy bus tour, we paid
up and were soon in the first cave. Apparently opened up in the early 1900s
by some bloke called Gough, the cave had a really good audio tour, and had
loads of bats flitting about. Despite the ill-behaved schoolbrats
swarming, we were in this cave for over an hour.
We then went over to the Museum of Dull
Drivel. Some sad act was loitering outside, dressed up as a caveman, and I
explained to him about the flint tools he was brandishing. We then went into
the Museum of Dull Drivel. I suppose it wasn't that bad, but compared to
Gough's cave it was dull.
Cox's cave was next, and with no audio
guide, that too was dull, The cave led into the Crystal Grotto: a cave with a
few scary statues strategically placed here and there. This was quite
entertaining.
From here we thought we'd scale the steps
to the lookout tower. Several hundred steps took us to the lowest part of the
hills overlooking the gorge, and having had a quick look from the lookout tower, we walked, scrambled and climbed up even further
along the Cheddar
Gorge Walk.
The views from the top of the hills were
wonderful, but we were somewhat dismayed by one small fact. The walk was
billed as a circular walk. Up one side of the gorge, along, down to the road,
back up the other side, and back to the village.
There was an endless stream of people
walking back from the direction in which we were heading; all complaining
that they weren’t going to do more hills. From where we were, we could see
across the gorge to the footpath on the other side. Not many brave souls had
got that far. But we weren’t going to back out. So having climbed up several
miles to the top, we then went down to the road, and then went up an equal
number of miles on the other side. And came down again. But it was worth
going back up again: if only to see the goats.
The walk was billed as lasting for two
hours: we took two and a half. It was a good walk – but in retrospect the
good weather helped a lot. I could imagine that the weather could make it a
very miserable walk indeed.
Once back down we popped into a nearby café
(selling “Styles” ice cream!), and
we realised we’d then done all of the attractions. The courtesy bus tour
wasn’t running today, and to be honest I couldn’t see exactly what good the
bus tour would have been – you could walk the length of the touristy bit in
just five minutes.
So we perused the gift shop, and set off
back to the B&B. We’d originally planned to visit Wookey
Hole today as well, but we didn’t have time to do it all.
The journey back took twice as long as we
were expecting: we got caught in traffic in Bath. But once back, we set off
to the Crown, for another very good meal. And some zider.
After all, you can’t go to Zumerzet and not drink zider…
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4 October 2011 (Tuesday) - Twenty Five Years
The nice people who were also staying in
the B&B had mentioned at brekkie yesterday that
they’d been to Cheddar Gorge on Sunday. We got chatting this morning at brekkie: they said they’d been talking about us all day
yesterday, and were wondering what we thought of Cheddar Gorge. So we told
them what we’d done, and they listened with evident amazement, and perhaps a
little jealousy. They asked what the caves were like; they asked what the
museum was like. They asked what the climb to the lookout tower was like.
They’d seen all of these attractions, but done none of them.
It turned out that we’d been to Cheddar
Gorge and “done the tourist thing”,
but they’d been to Cheddar Gorge and looked in some of the shops before going
back home to the B&B. How can you travel several hundred miles to
somewhere like Cheddar Gorge and not do the tourist things?
Mind you, they were a funny pair. We saw
them come into the pub last night when we were having dinner, and we saw them
leave again, having had two drinks each. Apparently there was nothing on the
menu that they liked, so they thought they’d try somewhere else. And not
having a clue where else to eat, they got quite lost trying to find
somewhere. But then again he smothered his full English breakfast with
vinegar (!)
The plan for today had us calling in at
some touristy place on the way home, but a combination of the weather being awful,
and there being no English Heritage attractions in the Basingstoke area put
paid to that little scheme. So we just came home. Once home I caught up with
blogs and stuff. The guest house had free wi-fi,
but for some reason when I post blogs from my lap-top, the formatting is
absolutely awful. So having got cross with the lap-top last night, I did all
the internet-catch-up when we got home this afternoon.
I then popped up town to pay some money
into the bank. There was probably a tad more in the astro
club’s petty cash than was sensible to have as petty cash. The astro club’s account isn’t with my bank, and I went in to
that bank, read their posters, and decided to move my accounts to them: they
seemed to be offering such a good deal. Then I actually dealt with the
awkward old bat on the counter, and I came out having decided to see if we
can’t more the astro club account away from them to
my bank.
I then went to my bank, and bearing in mind
how surly and uncommunicative was the old misery-guts behind that counter, I
resolved to give up with banks entirely, and to keep all the cash in a
biscuit tin under my bed.
So I came home and phoned English Heritage
to have a whinge. After all, they’d locked us into Old Wardour
Castle on Saturday afternoon. I didn’t really mind, it was quite funny
really.
But I’m (still) able to clamber over walls. Your average castle visitor
probably isn’t as sprightly as me, and whilst I don’t really want to stir
trouble, someone somewhere (at Old Wardour Castle) needs to check that all the punters
are out at closing time. They said they’d look into it and get back to me.
And then we watched last Saturday’s “Doctor Who”… Bearing in mind it was
going to be a “River Song” episode
I was expecting the worst: she’s not my favourite character in the show. But
I was pleasantly surprised at the episode. Not bad at all.
The evening was spent in committee making plans for Saturday evening.
The moon doesn’t observe itself, you know….
And in closing I’m sure that today’s date
rings a bell for some reason…..
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5 October 2011 (Wednesday) - Easy
Money
One of the most popular TV shows of our
time is the Simpsons. Personally I can’t stand the program; at one time I
actually banned it from the house. And it would seem that the program will soon be no
more.
This is one news story that I simply cannot
understand. The program has been running for twenty three years. It makes
money hand over fist, but (according to
the interview on the radio this afternoon), the more successful a TV
program gets, the more it costs to make more
episodes.
And despite the actors who provide the
voices for the various characters having offered to take a wage cut of thirty
per cent, the makers of the show don’t feel they can afford to continue
making it. How on Earth does that work?
Meanwhile other people coin in money hand
over fist. Lord Edward
Davenport
has made a fortune by providing loans to businesses that need cash in a
hurry. Or that is he made a fortune offering to provide loans to businesses
that needed cash in a hurry, but once he’d had their admin fees off of them,
he just laughed all the way
to the bank.
He’s been rumbled, and he’s gone to prison now (and he isn’t actually a lord either!), but I for one can
understand where is coming from. The lure of an easy buck is hard to resist.
Meanwhile, with ‘er
indoors TM out flogging candles, I spent the evening home
alone doing the ironing. Dull, but I can watch the telly whilst I’m doing it.
Perhaps I could take in ironing – I wonder if I could get enough to give up
doing my day job…
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6 October 2011 (Thursday) - Time
for a Change?
Today’s news is full of praise for Steve
Jobs. One of the leading lights at Apple, he died recently, and all the
pundits have been singing his praises. Personally I never met the chap, nor
have I really had much to do with Apple’s products, so I can’t honestly say
that I am overly affected by the sad news.
However it does strike me as a shame that
the media had to wait until his death before saying anything good about him.
I can remember news articles over the summer about his health: those articles
weren’t especially respectful to the chap.
This morning’s radio news broadcast a part of a speech
that Mr Jobs made at Stanford University a while back. What he said struck a
chord with me: “Your work is going to
fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to
do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to
love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle.”
It’s no secret that I’m not enamoured with
my current job. I spent a bit of time today looking up advice on CV
preparation. I shall dust off my C.V.,
update it, and see if I can’t find something to do which I might like doing a
bit better.
Meanwhile back in reality one of the
problems I’ve been having with the diet recently is measuring my weight. Our
old bathroom scales aren’t very good. When I stand on them, I can make my
weight vary by over a stone depending on how and where I stand on them; the
dial is that wobbly.
So, even though I really couldn’t afford
it, I bought some digital scales from Asda. Being
digital, there is no trying to guess where the dial is. And they are precise:
that is, the result they give is very repeatable. However I’m not sure they
are accurate – they tell me I am exactly a stone heavier than the old scales
said.
I expect MyFitnessPal will go mental when I
tell it my new revised weight. So what do I do? Not update my weight on it
until I’ve lost a stone? Commence blagging and tell it I’ve lost a pound for
every two that come off?
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7 October 2011 (Friday) - Bored
After having spent an age mucking about
with MyFitnessPal last night, I’ve
managed to feed in my “adjusted”
weight according to my new scales. However you look at it, since I started on
the diet I’ve shifted six pounds. Can’t be bad. And I’ve lost half an inch
off my waist and hips too!
For want of anything better to do with the
thing, I lashed up MyFitnessPal to broadcast my
news over Twitter. I can’t
pretend to be a big fan of Twitter – I need more than 140 characters to have
a good rant. In any case I have more people following my antics on Google
Plus than on Twitter – and that’s saying something (!)
I had a minor victory this morning – as I
walked to the car, I found three pound coins laying in the gutter. For once,
God smiled on me.
Work was work, and then I came home again.
Such is life. We’d planned to go swimming this evening. Normally that’s good
for shifting calories, but unfortunately the sports centre had run out of hot
water, and so the pool was closed. And will stay closed until Monday. That
was a nuisance.
Just as I got home my mobile rang. “My
Boy TM ” had located some fence
panels (several miles away). Would
I come and collect them for him? It seemed that his plan to keep his dog in
his own garden had one minor flaw. The fence he’d built only went half way up
the garden. Fudge would just run to the end of that fence, and then go round so’s he could fudge into next door’s garden. But now
there are more fence panels, and perhaps Fudge’s fudge will be contained.
Once I’d dropped off the fence panels I
spent five minutes winding Fudge up. Mind you, that dog doesn’t need much
winding up – he’s rather excitable.
And then home again, only to find ‘er indoors TM on her way out. Apparently
the arky-ologee club is having a committee meeting.
I wonder if they will pass any motions…?
Today was dull…
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8 October 2011 (Saturday) - The
Moon
I didn’t wake up until 10am this morning.
That’s unheard of (!) After my
morning’s ablutions I got on the new scales, and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Even allowing for the new scales, in the few weeks that I’ve been monitoring
my food and exercise, I’ve lost ten pounds. And because of the way this diet
works (i.e. writing down what I eat),
I have a sneaking feeling that this weight might stay off.
I then worked on my CV for a bit – I’ve put the thing
on-line.
If any of my loyal readers would care to peruse it and offer any advice, I’d
be grateful. In the meantime I’ve sent off my first job application. Here’s
hoping.
Mind you, every two or three years I start
applying for jobs. Two and a half years ago I even got offered one. In
retrospect I wish I’d taken it.
Martin called round with an anniversary pressie – the Star Trek TV game “Scene It”. It looks like
fun, and we shall have to organise an evening of playing the game. Mind you,
that probably won’t be until mid-November as we are fast approaching the
bonfire season.
And then I looked at the garden. I’ve not
mowed the lawn for a month. So we popped round to B&Q to get more strimmer line for the garden strimmer.
Whilst in the area we popped into “Pets
at Home”: I wanted an extending dog lead for when I walk Fudge and Sid.
They had some demonstration ones tied to a board, but didn’t seem to have any
actually for sale. So we came home again.
I was just about to attack the jungle I
jokingly call a lawn when the phone rang: Simon and Corinne were just coming
off of the motorway – they’d come over to look at a car. So all thoughts of
gardening went out of the window and we all went out to lunch. The American
Diner at Bybrook is always fun, and being on a diet
I had the diet option: lasagne and chips only came in at 800 calories (!) And from dinner we went on to
Hillside Garage to look at a second-hand car. Not just any old second-hand
car, but one we’d specifically come to see, and one
that had actually gone to Biddenden to be valeted. Which was a nuisance.
From there we popped round the outlet
centre to look in Cotton Traders and the Works. And suitably equipped with a
new jumper and some canvases we set off home. Or that is we intended to set
off home. We saw the queues to get out of the place. And we saw the queues
weren’t moving. It turned out that for no adequately explored reason the
local police had decided to dismantle a passing car, with no thought or
regard for who they might delay whilst they were at it. So we left the car
and walked home.
A quick cuppa, and then off to Woodchurch. Tonight was International Observe the Moon
Night, and the astro club had been planning an
event for months. It was such a shame the night was 100% cloud cover, but
with really good talks from Drew and Stevey, the
evening was really well done. It would have been good to have been able to
actually have observed the moon, and I must admit I was very disappointed
with the attendance. But we had over thirty people along. At one point that
would have been a massive turn-out for the astro
club. I suspect a combination of meeting on a different night in a different
venue was rather difficult for a lot of people, and seeing that it was
complete cloud cover, a lot of people probably assumed the event wouldn’t go
ahead. But
it did, and I for one enjoyed it.
Same time next year – and we’ll have clear
skies….
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9 October 2011 (Sunday) -
Folkestone
We were rather later getting up than I’d
hoped. But rather heavy rain overnight meant mowing the lawn wasn’t going to
be a practical proposition this morning. And then Fudge (and his entourage) came to visit. Fudge caused mayhem, left fudge
in the lawn, destroyed a couple of carrier bags, and then he (and his entourage) went off on their
merry way.
We’d planned to go for a walk somewhere in
the countryside today, but the heavy rain meant that everywhere would be wet
and muddy, so we set off to Folkestone to visit the other grand-dog. Sid was
fine. A bit dozy, but that’s the kind of dog he is. And once he’d finished
farting we settled him in the kitchen with some doggy treats, and all went to
Wetherspoons for Sunday lunch. By the time I’d had
roast dinner, a pint of Pendle’s Porter and a crafty ice cream, I’d found I’d
scoffed 1500 calories. Three quarters of the day’s allowance (!)
So we had a bit of a stroll to burn some of
it up. First of all down the old High Street. That’s not what it once was.
Back in the day they made sweets and sticks of rock down there. You could buy
saucy postcards and seaside novelties. And there was even old Bob’s gaming
shop. Now there’s nothing but arty-farty art
galleries. The old High Street isn’t what it once was. We then walked along
the harbour, and up some steps to the East Cliff
before making our way back to Sid.
By now the sun had come out, and the day
was quite warm, so after a quick coffee we made our way home and I had a go
at the garden. First of all I attacked the lawn. Little Lacey
(who’d come with Fudge this morning)
had told me the lawn needed cutting. It hadn’t been done for six weeks, and
it took some shifting. The lawn was very damp, but it needed doing.
And then I mucked out the fish pond filter.
The pond is decidedly murky, despite the biological jollop
I stuck in the filter box five weeks ago. Over the winter I need to come up
with a plan for more effective pond filtration.
And talking of plans, I then spent a little
while updating my diary. I heard some bad news last night – Shadoxhurst Bonfire has been
cancelled.
I’m really disappointed to hear this – it’s not the biggest bonfire of the
year, but it’s a good evening out, there’s usually a good fun fair there,
it’s just down the road. And it’s been cancelled. It turns out that Shadoxhurst Parish Council’s entire recreation committee
has resigned, and they were unable to find anyone else to help. A shame they
didn’t ask me (!)
This has left my bonfire season looking
decidedly sparse. We missed Eastbourne’s bonfire parade last night because it
clashed with International Observe the Moon night, and now with Shadoxhurst’s bonfire night having gone down the pan,
I’ve only got four firework-related events on my itinerary for this year.
Having said that, bearing in mind the amount of ale that I usually pour down
my gullet at a bonfire night, perhaps this is for the best.
Talking of plans being thwarted, it would
seem that the kite club’s Xmas bash coincides with the next lunar eclipse, so
I shan’t be able to get to that evening out either…
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10 October 2011 (Monday) - Stuff
I lashed up MyFitnessPal to Twitter over
the weekend. And since I’ve done that, I’ve had some friend requests. Over on
MyFitnessPal, Javalava is now my friend.
She’s a bit older than me, she goes to the gym, and she suffers from
diverticulitis. There would seem to be a lot of that about at the moment.
Meanwhile on Twitter Debbie Martindale is now following
me. I doubt that Debbie Martindale looks anything like the fit bird in the
photos, and it can only be a matter of time until she starts trying to flog
me her amazing products.
Perhaps I’m getting old and cynical?
I then had a look through my letter rack.
The building society would seem to have stuffed up. They’d sent me a letter
saying that a direct debit mortgage payment hadn’t been made, and had sent me
a new mandate to fill out and return to them. I thought the mortgage had been
paid off last month, so I gave them a phone call. They told me they had no
idea what had happened – they confirmed that they had stuffed up. That was a
relief (!)
While I was thinking of direct debits, I
cancelled the direct debit for English Heritage. I think we’ve done all the
English Heritage attractions within a three light year radius, and next year
we’ll join the National Trust. I bet the National Trust won’t lock me into
their castles.
I had a reminder to renew my car’s road
tax. I can remember blogging about traipsing up to the post office to queue
with the Great Unwashed to renew my tax disc a few years ago. Tonight I renewed my road tax on line. It
took less than five minutes.
And then I then spent a little while working
on the nuts and bolts of this blog - it’s occurred to me that the passing
visitor would have no idea of much of what I’m wittering on about. So I’ve
added a “cast list” above. This is
something which is still in its infancy, and I expect will grow with time as
I find more people to insult…
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11 October 2011 (Tuesday) - Bleach
I must admit to having had a bit of a
"dur"
moment yesterday: of course I know who Javalava
is. I suppose I should have been paying more attention at the time. But then,
that could be said of me on a permanent basis.
I also wasn't paying attention when I
booked the central heating boiler's annual service, and so had to spend a
little time re-scheduling that today. Still, it's not as though there was
much else going on in my life at the moment.
This morning’s news boiled my piss. The
Archbishop of Glasgow is campaigning against
gay marriage.
There was something on the radio about it: the implication being that
Scottish Catholics will be told what political parties they can vote for;
based on the various parties’ stances toward gay marriage. Fortunately most
of the political parties are seeing sense on the issue, and so it would seem
the Archbishop isn’t going to be able to offer much of a choice when he makes
his pronouncement.
I laughed out loud when the chap being
interviewed (on the radio) quoted
Austen Ivereigh of “Catholic Voices”. Apparently the religious types maintain that
the principle of marriage is one of reproduction. That’s interesting. Do
parish priests insist on fertility testing before conducting marriage
services?
Why can’t the religious types be brave
enough to have the courage of their convictions and say that they think that
gay marriage is wrong because it says so (in
several places) in their Bible. Or isn’t their faith in their Bibles what
it once was…?
And then I had a bit of good news. I
received a friend request through Facebook. When I first started at the
Hastings Academy for Budding Geniuses in 1975 I very soon made a friend. My
mate Dave liked fishing, introduced me to the Electric Light Orchestra, used
the word “monotonous” more than
anyone else I’ve never met, and is someone with whom I lost touch over the
years. I last saw him in the mid-90s, when I ran into him in Reading. But now
we’re back in touch.
Through Facebook I keep in touch with loads
of old friends. Really must organise a reunion…
And then I spent a little time applying for
jobs with a major international pharmaceutical firm. I probably won’t get it,
but if I don’t apply, I definitely won’t get it…
This evening for our Tuesday Sci-fi session
we tried some Japanese
Manga – “Bleach”. It’s
entertaining enough, but I can’t help but feel it’s lost something during the
translation into English….
12 October 2011 (Wednesday) - Thar She Blows!!
The diet continues apace – and yesterday MyFitnessPal told me off. “Based on your total calories consumed for today, you are eating too
few calories. Not only is it difficult to receive adequate nutrition at these
calorie levels, but you could also be putting your body into starvation mode.
Starvation mode lowers your metabolism and makes weight loss more difficult.
We suggest increasing your calorie consumption to 1,200 calories per day
minimum.”
Perhaps I should eat more cakes?
Today I enhanced the diet somewhat by doing
half an hour’s swimming. In half an hour I swam half a kilometre, which isn’t
bad really. Even if I was the second slowest swimmer in the slow lane. I was
also (at one point) the only bloke
in the swimming pool. At one point I thought I saw another bloke, but Captain
Ahab chasing Moby hardly counts….
Mind you, I shouldn’t be too disrespectful
of the lardy ones among us, being slightly over my ideal weight myself.
Talking of which I had something of a revelation this evening. Why is it that
the majority of people who go swimming are porkers? As a child I would
regularly swim, and it never shifted any weight. I’ve found the answer. As a
child, after swimming I’d get a portion of sausage and chips from the chippie
for my tea. And now with my dietary wisdom, I can look back and realise that
whilst the swimming burned off five hundred calories; the sausage and chips
added five hundred and fifty calories. If I’d stayed at home and watched
telly I would have lost more weight.
Last weekend I was feeling my artistic
urges, and so I bought some canvases with a view to doing some paintings. The
urge has now passed, and this evening when I came to put the canvases away
with my paints (for when the urge comes
again), I found I already had a load of canvases
ready for my next dabblings.
That was fifteen quid down the drain.
And, on hearing the radio this evening,
down the drain is where the nation’s literary future is going. Among the one hundred
best-selling books of last year were the autobiography of a meerkat, and the Beano annual. When I think how well that
drivel has sold, and that one of the best books I’ve ever read has been turned
down by some of the country’s most prominent publishers, my urine vapourises….
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13 October 2011 (Thursday) - More
Stuff
Yesterday evening I wasted some time on the
Amazon website. There’s several books I’d like for my Kindle, and so I spent
a while updating my wish list. The plan was that those with more money than
sense clicked on this
link,
paid for the books I want, and they would appear on my Kindle. I’d like that.
It seemed a good plan.
However the trouble is that the whole
concept of the Amazon wish list falls at the first hurdle. It’s all very well
me telling the world what I’d like as a pressie:
but the world can’t actually buy it for me. Amazon has had me create a list
on which I tell everyone what I want, but from which only I can buy anything.
What’s that all about?
My time is too precious to be wasted on
nonsense like this (!)
And so to work. With my daily journey now
being four times the distance it was a couple of months ago, I’m getting
through petrol at quite a rate. But not four times the rate. Whereas I used
to refuel monthly, now its fortnightly. How does that work?
In the past I’ve whinged about those who
know the price of petrol in every filling station for miles around. Whilst I
reserve the right to maintain that prejudice, I saved over two quid by
getting my petrol in Canterbury rather than in Ashford.
Work was fun – I spent the entire day
giggling. One of my colleagues, a very quietly spoken, demure, rather shy
young lady told us that she was in her father’s bad books. She admitted to
having taught her father’s parrot a new phrase. And whenever her father has
visitors, the parrot now loudly (and
constantly) shouts “HELP!!!! –
They’ve turned me into a parrot!!”
Mind you I did get a bit cross whilst
queuing at the League of Fiends (sic)
shop. Surely when you have been queuing up, waiting for over ten minutes to
be served, you wouldn’t wait until you get to the till before digging through
your handbag, shopping bag and various pockets in a futile attempt to try to
find your purse.
Perusing various websites of advice
regarding job applications today, it would seem that the covering letter
which accompanies a C.V. is probably as important as the C.V. itself. So I
spent a little while working on a covering letter this morning. I don't know
if that letter's actually going to do any good, but I suppose spending a bit
of time doing such a letter can't hurt any future applications. I’ve put the thing
here
if any of my loyal readers might like to give it the once-over and offer any
hints, tips or advice on the matter.
Home – to collect Fudge and to take him for
a walk. I arrived at the Fudgery to find my first
grand-dog in some disgrace. He was in trouble – he’d eaten his bed. I was
impressed, but thought it best not to express the sentiment.
Me and Fudge had a
pleasant half an hour wandering the local paths: at the end I was worn out
and Fudge was still going strong. I really need to find him an extending
lead.
Meanwhile I’ve got another follower on Twitter. “LaCuillereDiet”
would seem to be French. There are those for whom no more information would
be needed, and it has to be said that I tend to lean heavily toward that
philosophy myself. However I shall wait until he, she or it starts to sell me
his, her or its diet products before I spit my dummy out. So far they’ve done
nothing than follow my Twitter feed. And there’s no denying that it can be
dull at times.
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14 October 2011 (Friday) - Ghosts,
Breathing and Wine
Just when I thought that the entire movie
industry had run out of ideas, I am proved totally wrong. It would seem there
are plans afoot to make a film the likes of which the world has hitherto only
dreamed about. “Rentaghost – the Movie
”.
As Mr Claypole, the MacWitch and the
Pantomime Horse head to the Silver Screen, Hubert Davenport spins in his
grave, and I for one won’t be queuing up at the cinema.
I couldn’t
believe my ears when I heard the news this morning. It would seem that the
energy companies are making eight
times the profit from my payments to them that they
were making only a few months ago. Apparently from the £1300 I pay them every
year, £125 of that is profit. The chap on the radio was shocked about this.
So was I, but for completely the opposite reason. He was horrified about how
much profit they were making. I was amazed how little they were making.
Perhaps
working in the public sector has left me somewhat naïve, but back when I
worked in the private sector, (long,
long ago), the boss’s tenet of faith was that for the price he paid to
buy three of anything, he would sell one. He worked on a three hundred per
cent markup. I honestly assumed that of the £1300 I
pay to the energy company each year, about eight or nine hundred quid would
have gone into their pocket.
One lives
and learns.
I was also
shocked about the news concerning the cabinet
office minister Oliver Letwin.
Apparently he’s accused of disposing of some of his paperwork when he’s
finished with it. The poor bugger is being crucified in the press because he
threw away various dull trivial official papers. Bearing in mind how the
press have just hounded the Defence
Secretary out of office, I’m left wondering why anyone
would aspire for public office.
Work was quiet. So quiet
that one of the ladies was able to slip out to see her nephew’s school play.
The lad had been in the school’s drama club for some time, and had been
asking his aunt to come see the play for weeks. The play was “The Gruffalo”,
and the lad in question turned out to be playing the part of a rock.
Personally I’d rather
watch the rock rather than Rentaghost – The Next
Generation.
There weren’t many people
in the slow lane at swimming this evening. Just five of us: me, ‘er indoors TM, two orcas and a young Gurkha. The young Gurkha had a novel swimming technique: he would swim an
entire length without taking a single breath on the way, then gasp like a beached
fish at the end of the length, before repeating the process.
Mind you, I can’t really
criticise. As a child I was an accomplished swimmer. Nowadays my technique
isn’t what it was. I know (in principle)
what to do about arms, legs and breathing. But in practice I find I can only
organise any two of those three. Seeing how I tend to make breathing the
priority, my propulsion in the swimming pool isn’t that which it might be.
But I did the obligatory
twenty lengths, which passed pleasantly enough (apart from ‘er indoors TM drowning on the sixteenth length).
And then home for a
curry. You know you’re seriously into “diet
mode” when the curry comes with a bottle of WeightWatcher’s
wine…
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The weekly weigh-in: I’ve
lost two more pounds. This makes a loss of twelve pounds since I started with
MyFitnessPal. And
whilst I’m encouraged by this, the sad fact remains that I need to lose
another thirty three pounds (over two stone)
to just be overweight. Realistically I’m going to be on this diet and
exercise lark for a year if I’m only going to get to the top end of what my
weight should be.
The
morning’s post brought a letter from English Heritage. Regular readers of
this drivel will remember that two weeks ago today, me and ‘er indoors TM were locked into the grounds
of Old Wardour Castle. Today the manager of English
Heritage (South West) wrote to tell
me that he reason we got locked in was that they didn’t check to see that
everyone was out of the place. Dur!!!
With the
tribes gathered we set off to Battle. Having been to the Abbey earlier in the
year, we’d heard about the re-enactment of the Battle of Hastings, so we went
along to watch it. In retrospect I think it’s fair to say that I
underestimated the popularity of the event: we got within half a mile of
Battle, and were stuck in a traffic jam for an hour before we were able to
park.
Once parked
we made our way to the arena at Battle Abbey, and having met up with the
Brighton contingent we staked out an area from which we could watch the
activities. We had arrived a tad late to see the skirmish (!), but we got to see the archery
demonstration. A Genghis Khan lookalike, some bloke in a yellow frock, and
six other weirdoes took pot-shots at a plastic pig. I cheered for the pig,
mainly because the archers couldn’t hit the thing.
And then
the re-enactment of the battle of Hastings took place. I cheered for the
Normans, if only because I knew my history, and I knew who would win anyway.
And to cut an extremely long and tedious story short, the Normans won. I
think it’s fair to say that if the public address system had actually worked,
and had the battle re-enactment been staged so that we could have seen more
than just the backs of the Saxon side, then it might have been worthwhile.
However the
public address system was inaudible, and all we
could see was the backs of the Saxon side, and so the hour of the
re-enactment was extremely dull. The last five minutes was entertaining
enough when the Normans slaughtered the Saxons right in front of us; if only
for the cries for a first aider to come to the aid of one of the actors who’d
got a boo-boo.
If nothing
else, the afternoon was worthwhile for getting some photos for CrackWatch.
After the
battle seemed to be done, we had a wander wound some of the Abbey before
making our way back to the cars. Getting out of the car park was a bit
tricky, but we (and thousands of normal
people) eventually managed it despite, rather than thanks to, the efforts
of the English Heritage staff.
Once out,
we made for Hastings, and having parked in Dudley Road (A lot closer to the town than I was expecting), we made our way
to the Old Town. As luck would have it, the first pub we came to was the F.I.L.O., and so we popped in for a
crafty half. They had a new beer on the hand pump – “Churches” – their own pale ale. A pint of that went down nicely.
And we adjourned to their patio area to find a beer festival in full flow, so
we had another pint there.
By now we
were peckish, and so having obtained the obligatory flashing rabbit ears, we
queued up for half an hour for some chips. For all that it is a traditional
seaside town, Hastings doesn’t have many chip shops.
Whilst queuing we met up with the rest of our party as well as some old
friends, and then made our way to Winkle Island to watch the procession. And
there we met family. And my mobile phone wouldn’t stop – texts and calls
asking where we were. And then asking where on Earth is Winkle Island. How could anyone
not know where Winkle Island is?
The bonfire procession passed, and
I looked for friends who turned out not to be in the procession. And with an
hour until the fireworks went off, the suggestion was made that we might
visit the Dolphin to see what beer was on.
Three pints of HopHead
later we wandered down to watch the fireworks. The fireworks were
spectacular; the toilet facilities were feral. I’d never
seen anything like it – you just stood and pissed into a trough whilst
passers-by cheered.
And on the
way home I met up with an old mucker I’ve not seen for years. Happy days….
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MyFitnessPal nearly had a fit this morning when
I totted up yesterday’s calories. I was almost over my allowance for once.
Normally I am well within what I should be scoffing. Not so, yesterday. The
reason: the beer. Is five pints over the course of an evening really that
excessive? For me, it certainly isn’t, but those five pints alone were over
half the day’s allowed calorie intake. Perhaps I should moderate my input?
Still, it
was Hastings Day, and the start of the bonfire season, so I think I’m allowed
an occasional session.
With not
much else going on around the house, I spent the morning mowing the lawn.
Following last week’s herculean efforts to bring the lawn under control, this
week the mowing didn’t take very long at all. I then pootled about the
garden. The fish pond amazes me: last week I was on the point of giving up
with the thing and filling it in: the water was just green murk, despite my
best efforts. Now the water is crystal clear. I wish I knew what was going on
there. And then I thought about picking the leaf litter from the gravelled
areas, but my heart wasn’t in it. Because as fast as I pick it up, more will
fall. It’s autumn, after all.
I came in
to find “My
Boy TM ” ranting about the price of ice cream. When he took
his tribe out to the zoo yesterday afternoon, he thought he’d been charged
over the odds for two ice creams and a bottle of pop. He’d been charged five
quid. Which was the going rate for a burger at Battle Abbey
yesterday. I suppose he had a point: the obvious answer is to take
your supplies with you. Doing so is something I’ve looked down on over the
years, but it’s fast becoming a necessity.
And then to
Folkestone for a bit of a walk. We picked up the grand-dog (Sid) and his entourage and set off to
Folkestone Warren for a bit of a wander. Sid likes the sand – he
eats it – but he’s not at all keen on the sea. Which was a shame – the idea
was to see if he’d have a bit of a swim. He wouldn’t. But we had a good
stroll; a tad leisurely, but that’s not always a bad thing.
I kept
looking at Samphire Hoe in the distance. We could
easily have got that far if we had gotten a move on. So bearing in mind that
the cancellation of Shadoxhurst Bonfire has left a
gap in the diary in a couple of weeks’ time, I’ve made plans to go back to the Warren, and
walk as far as Samphire Hoe. We’ll do that at the
end of the month – if any of my loyal readers would like to come along, you’d
be very welcome.
Bring a
pack-up – the shop at Samphire Hoe was closed the
last time I went there….
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I found
this morning’s post mixed in with the assorted mess on the table. I wish
people wouldn’t stir the morning’s post into the general household clutter.
The other
day I mentioned about buying my road tax on-line. It arrived in today’s post:
I was impressed with the speed, if not the cost.
And Cotton Traders had posted me their
catalogue. They are being hopeful. Whilst I like Cotton Traders clothes,
there is no way that I’m paying their normal prices. Everything I have of
theirs comes from the bargain rail – and I must admit I begrudge paying their
“bargain” price when I can get two
or three of the same sort of thing from Asda or
Tesco for the same price.
The other
day I mentioned about applying for a job with a leading pharmaceutical
company. Today they emailed me to tell me they weren’t interested. I suppose
I should be grateful that they had the good grace to tell me, but as far as I
am concerned I shall buy from their competitors from now on.
There was
something on the radio this morning that made my piss boil. Or that is, it
would have, had I been able to afford the heating costs. Last week I
mentioned about rising fuel costs. The government has had high-level meetings with the energy
supplying companies, and now is in a position to help the poor consumers. We
can either use less power, or buy it from someone cheaper. What annoys me is
that this government has the gall to claim this advice as a victory.
And what I
can’t understand is how I can change from one power company to another and
pay a different price when the leccie will come
into my house from the same mains cable, and the gas will come into my house
through the same pipe.
The radio
program then went on to interview spokesmen of the power companies. All of whom were discussing oil, gas and petrol prices; clearly
with no idea that fossil fuels will not last forever. Renewable power sources
weren’t even to be considered. It’s now forty years since I realised how daft
burning fossil fuels is; and I only do it because I have no alternative.
Surely there’s mileage in going green?
Meanwhile
closer to home I would seem to have some DVDs missing. If any of my loyal
readers have borrowed South Park Seasons six and eight, could you let me know. Similarly if anyone’s got the DVD of the BBC’s
Voyage to the Planets I’d be grateful to know: it’s a favourite of mine and
I’ve replaced that DVD once already.
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The noise
of the rain on the window kept me awake for much of the night. And so I spent
a lot of today wanting to go back to bed.
In a week
or so’s time I shall be lecturing to the astro club on the subject of comets. Earlier in the year
I was very pleased to find out that comet Elenin
would be at its brightest at the end of this month,
and that it might possibly even be bright enough to see with the naked eye.
That fitted in very well with my plans: a lecture on comets; then we’d go
outside and look at one.
As usual God
laughs when I make plans….
The
eagle-eyed amongst my readers may well have spotted that there isn’t a bright
comet in the skies at the moment. Those of my readers equipped with
telescopes may well have spotted that here isn’t a dull comet in the skies at
the moment.
Comet Elenin made its closest approach to Earth a couple of
days ago and…. Well, what can I say? Comet Elenin isn’t
where it should be. One can’t help but wonder where
it’s gone.
The chances
are that the comet broke up whilst swinging around the sun. But were that the
case, there should be some comet fragments visible to the more powerful
optical telescopes. And there aren’t. Having spent months preparing a talk
for the astro club and expecting a comet, with ten
days to go, I might just have to undertake something of a major re-write.
Meanwhile, polar
bears are shrinking. It’s an established fact of
science that the larger an animal’s body, the more difficulty the animal has
keeping cool. Which is why elephants have big ears and flap them about, why
hummingbirds live at the equator, and why polar bears are the biggest bears
there are. And polar bears, together with all sorts of animals including,
toads, tortoises and tits are getting smaller.
More
evidence of global warming?
And so with
comprehensive evidence of our planet being terminally knacked,
we are still struggling to do what needs to be done: the European Space
Agency is going cap in
hand to the Russians to beg for a rocket to launch
their Exo-Mars probe.
Meanwhile,
I wonder if any of my loyal readers could settle an argument. There is a
school of thought which believes that in China it is not customary to eat
anything after 4pm. There is another school of thought which believes this to
be a load of old tosh…
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I was
amazed to hear that in the current climate of recession and austerity and
credit crunches, Costa Coffee is coining money in, hand
over fist. Personally I begrudge paying the price of a jar of coffee for just
one cup of the stuff, but it would seem that for all that no one has any
money, and inflation is far outstripping wage increases, the Great Unwashed
can find money to spend on expensive coffee.
I have
colleagues who do this – admittedly the posh coffee is a bit cheaper in the
works canteen, but it’s still a quid a cup, and these colleagues have two
cups of the stuff. Every day. That’s a tenner a week on coffee!
Perhaps
they can afford it by selling their “muck”.
Up until now I’ve had a sneaking admiration for those who donate eggs. Sperm
is dead simple to donate, but eggs are somewhat more difficult to extract.
And so the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority is
planning to give every egg donor a £750 bung. There was a very
stupid spokeswoman from this fertility watchdog on the radio this morning.
She was adamant that this £750 was to cover any expenses the donors might
have incurred, but was equally adamant that she didn’t want to get bogged
down with donors brining in receipts for their expenses.
Why on
Earth not? I get my expenses paid at work. But I get exactly my expenses
paid. I bring in a receipt, and I get paid (to the penny) what I spent. Surely these people should learn from
the examples of overseas egg donation clinics in which the amount of donors
goes through the roof every time there is a financial downturn.
And let’s
get the terminology right – if there’s £750 to be made, eggs aren’t being
donated, they are being sold.
Is that the
price of a life? Over in China, life is even cheaper. A two year old girl was
run over yesterday. The accident was
caught on video. Whilst tragic, road traffic accidents happen. What really
boiled my piss was the fact that the same video footage showed loads of
passers by passing by, leaving the child bleeding. What kind of person could
do that?
Meanwhile,
it’s Wednesday, and so to the Stour Centre for a bit of swimming. Five
hundred and twenty five metres in just under half an
hour can’t be bad. And I realised something tonight. As a child I would
swim at the White Rock Swimming Pool. And before you got anywhere near the
pool, there was a footbath full of bleach to kill off any nasties
on your tootsies. There’s no footbath at the Stour
Centre. What’s that all about…?
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It’s
officially winter: I had to scrape frost off of my
car this morning. Oh – it was cold. The thermometer in my car said it was -1oC.
Bearing in mind how glorious the rest of the day turned out to be, that was
nippy.
It’s no
secret that in the past I used to review pubs as a hobby. I
reviewed quite a few. And so, being an accomplished
reviewer I thought I’d have a go at a book. After all, Amazon invites
reviews. It might be a fun thing to do.
But
reviewing books- that’s a different matter to
reviewing pubs. A pub review is very subjective as a pub changes from day to
day. A book review – you’ve got to be objective about that. I wasn’t sure I
could do the job justice, but I
had a go. Please do let me know what you think of the
review. And then (more importantly)
get the book and tell me if I’ve done it justice.
Meanwhile
over at the Medical
Laboratory and Bioscience page on Facebook I see they’ve run
yet another of my case study reviews as one of their featured articles. Does
that make me a published author?
I then had an embarrassing five
minutes at work today. As I walked into the place, a woman cheerfully said “Hello Dave”, and started chatting away
with me. Which was all rather difficult as I hadn’t the
faintest idea who she was. Her face was very familiar: I’m sure I know
her, but I couldn’t place her at all.
A nice lady phoned from the mobile
phone company: did I want to take out a second phone contract with them. No I
didn’t. Did I want to upgrade to a package that included a free laptop? Yes –
I wanted that a year ago, but they weren’t doing such an offer, so I got a
laptop elsewhere. Did I want extra SIM cards. Why
would I want extra SIM cards?
The nice lady agreed to phone back
next year when my current contract ends.
I came home to spend a few minutes
working on next week’s presentation to the astro
club. There’s been some developments in the world of
comets, and it’s as well to be up to date, because if I’m not, I can bet that
some smart-alec will be.
And then it was off to Wetherspoons for the works curry night. Five pints of ale
is arguably more than a dieting chap should put away, but I quite liked the
ales they had on. So five pints of that (and
a curry) put me over my daily calorie allowance for the first time in
weeks.
And in closing, if any of my loyal
readers have a small table or bedside unit about eighteen inches square that
they don’t want, I’m your man….
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A day’s holiday. I felt I deserved
one. And (after all) it was
supposed to be the end of
the world (again).
After a bit
of brekkie I got busy in the garden. Over the
summer, all sorts of bits and bobs have accumulated. Bags of discarded
clothing, old coats with holes in, hub caps from cars that were sold five
years ago. Loads of tat. And so a tip run was in order. For once I got to
drive straight into the tip, unload a car full of rubbish, and was back home within twenty minutes.
So I went
back to the garden. Lawns don’t mow themselves, you know. And then with the
lawn mowed, I pruned back the jungle that was
overflowing the fence from next door. The jungle looks nice enough, but it
does drop leaves all over my gravelled areas.
I then came
in and had a tidy-up in my room; chucked out all sorts of scraps of rubbish
that had accumulated, and even mended my shredder. I bought a shredder a year
or so ago to safely get shot of bank statements and stuff, and it’s been
jammed for months. Not any more.
Then to the
doctor’s. Having found that my cholesterol was high the other day (month), they wanted to know what my
blood pressure was before prescribing any drugs. I’m not keen on the idea of taking
statins, but I went to get my blood pressure checked
anyway. 130/88. The nurse said the first figure was ok, but the second one
was a tad high. The
Internet would seem to agree with her.
I then went
back to the tip. Having done a tip run earlier, I’d come home to find a bag
of rubbish I’d forgotten to load into the car, and I’d generated another by
tidying up. And this tip the tip was painful. It’s always the way – I can get
rid of a car-full of rubbish in minutes, but two bags of rubbish take forever
to shift. I queued for ten minutes just to get into the place, and when I did
get into the tip I couldn’t believe my eyes. Everyone was being held up by
two idiot women. Their car was full of bags of rubbish. They were
systematically taking each bag in turn and emptying it over the floor, then
picking up the various scraps of rubbish and making several journeys from
their car to the skip to get rid of them.
I came home
for a spot of dinner. Usually when I’m having a day off I treat myself to KFC
– I like a three piece variety meal, and kid myself that it’s quite alright
because I have it with a diet coke. But two
minutes’ research showed me that my favourite KFC is
good for 1269 calories. Two bits of toast and a cup of coffee fills me up just the same, and is over a thousand calories
less.
And as I
scoffed my toast I had my monthly look at my bank balance. I think it would
be fair to say that I need an extra pay day. Just one would sort me out.
And then
Chris came to visit. And brought round the old Apple i-wotsit
that was surplus to his requirements. I’ve borrowed it because Chris has
rigged it so’s I can play NeverWinter Nights on it.
It took five minutes setting up, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon
clearing out the goblins. Oh, how I’ve missed that game…
Seeing how
it’s Friday, we then went swimming. It’s got so that we are recognised by the
other denizens of the slow lane who now greet us when we arrive. And so I got
on with the swimming. Up until now I’ve just done twenty lengths each time,
not wanting to get into the vicious circle of just adding another length to
what I’d done last time, and wearing myself out carrying on like that. So
instead I’ve decided to swim for as close to half an hour as I can, and tonight I swan twenty-four lengths. Six hundred
metres – not bad. Mind you, there was an odd smell in the deep end: rather
musty, almost like stale urine. I noticed that on Wednesday too. I wonder if
I should say something to the staff…?
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I must
apologize to my Facebook followers. It would seem I’d got MyFitnessPal (dot com) rigged to bother Facebook
every time I so much as farted. I’ve adjusted the settings so it should only
update once a day (at most) now.
Ant talking
of MyFtnessPal (dot
com), I had the weekly weigh-in this morning. Another two pounds have
gone. Whilst I'm pleased with this, if I can keep up this rate of weight
loss, by the time my birthday comes (in
late February) I should just be “overweight”.
Here’s a
weight loss tip: you should treat the permanent sensation of feeling hungry
as proof that the diet is working (!)
I then
spent a little time over on LinkedIn creating a profile
for myself. I don’t know if it will generate much in the way
of interest from potential employers, but it never hurts to try these things.
I’ve now
got this idea that I might be able to generate a little pocket money by doing
some freelance journalism. After all, this blog seems to have a loyal body of
readers.
I might
send the Kentish Express an email and see how the land lies. There are
several sites with which I can register as a freelance journalist, but they
all want cash up front. And (all me
cynical if you will) I’m just a bit suspicious about that.
Then to the
shopping. Dull, but it needed doing. We went to FarmFoods
and Lidl. They might be the shops where the “lower orders” obtain their provisions,
but they have the advantage of being very cheap. We then came home and with
washing up done (where does it all come
from?), I tidied up the front garden. With a concreted front garden, five
minutes with a broom is all that is needed.
I then
mucked about with my (Chris’s)
Apple i-wotsit. And after a couple of minutes
fiddling around I can now add custom modules to the thing (and run them). So rather than just
having a game which will keep me occupied for a couple of months, with a
little judicious farting about on the NeverWinter
Vault, I’ve got a game which will keep me out of
mischief for years.
And then
the doorbell rang: Dave had arrived. The plan was to pop up to the town for a
beer or two, then home for tea and a couple more beers over a movie. We went
up to the town, and came home shortly after midnight… It’s all rather vague….
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I was woken
by a text message from “My Boy TM ” asking
if I was awake. What answer did he think he would get at 8.30am on a Sunday?
But we leapt into action, and with the house guests alive and raring to go, ‘er indoors TM did a full English breakfast for us. That went down nicely.
And then
with Brian and Rachel following, we set off to Folkestone to collect more of
our party before parking up at the Western Heights car park. A dozen of us
were raring to go, and those who’d arrived at the car park first had found an
interesting hole in a wall. To be precise, not so much “in” as “under”. So half
a dozen of us scrambled into the hole to have a look-see. It’s become
something of a tradition to “boldly go”.
We found several linked rooms, and a couple of corridors leading off into the
distance.
With this
fully explored, we scrambled out, and then found what (at first sight) looked like a rabbit hole. After a bit of
discussion I remained of the opinion that it was a rabbit hole, but when “Daddy’s
Little Angel TM ” disappeared into the hole I found myself
reconsidering. So I scrambled into the hole myself. This one was rather
disappointing – having forced myself into one of the narrowest holes I’ve (so
far) been in, there wasn’t much to be seen inside. Mind you, getting out
was quite tricky. In the end Stevey grabbed my hand
and forcibly dragged me out. But it achieved the desired result.
From here
we went to the St Martin’s deep shelter. It’s one I’ve visited before, but
some of our party hadn’t. And so we spent an enjoyable twenty minutes
underground before making our way to the Drop Redoubt. The Western Heights Preservation Society
were staging an open day, and we saw re-enactments with proper muskets being
fired (oh – they were LOUD!), we watched a chap having his leg
amputated, we swapped insults with the actors, we got told off by the actors.
It was a really good day out. We really must go to their next open day.
And then with time pushing on, we
went down the Grand Shaft. Built over two hundred
years ago to provide a short cut for troops to get from the Western Heights
to Dover (and back again), it’s quite amazing to behold. I’ve never
seen a triple spiral staircase before. Going down was easy enough, but coming
back up nearly killed me. And as I struggled up I met an ex-cub who was
having no trouble going up and down the stairs, and said hello to more of my
loyal readers who were there as well.
It would
have been good to have got round to the detached bastion again, but we’d run out
of time. We shall have to go back later.
Pausing only
briefly to laugh at Chris (who’d caught
his “flowers and frolics” on a railing) we made our way back to the car
park and home.Having said goodbye to Dave, I then slobbed about for a bit. And after a cracking bit of tea
I went back to NeverWinter. Zombies have over-run the graveyard. They do
that…
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I think I
must have overdone it somewhat yesterday, as today I ached all over. I’m used
to aching after having been tunnelling, but I naively hoped that now (what with all my recent swimming) I
might be slightly fitter.
Perhaps
it’s my body’s way of saying I’m too old to get up to the sort of mischief I
used to get up to forty years ago. I hope not, because I’m not stopping.
My piss
boiled at this morning’s news – tales of our “compensation
culture” in which one chap got a five thousand pounds
bung to keep him sweet when he fell out of bed. And another one got nearly
two thousand pounds because he was too fat for the office toilet. And yet
another got over three thousand pounds having strained himself
carrying six tins of beans.
Perhaps I
should jump on this bandwagon?
Meanwhile
some long-standing plans have gone west. Or (more accurately) south. The last time there was a lunar eclipse
we missed the thing. We stood out in the cold and rain, and looked up at the
thick cloud. So we decided that in December we’d go out and see the eclipse
that’s happening then. And with only a few weeks to go, it turns out that
this eclipse won’t be visible in the UK – it’s a southern hemisphere thing
this time. Oh well, all I can suggest is that loyal readers tune in on April
25, 2013 and we’ll hope for better luck then.
And so
home, where “My Boy TM ” was staging a rant. His new phone has
arrived, and wasn’t responding to the activation code he was typing in. After
a few minutes I suggested he tried the correct code (which worked wonders).
He now has to wait for (up to) a day for it all to connect. He ain’t happy…
And now,
just after I’ve installed a new i-wotsit, you can
play Heroes of NeverWinter on Facebook. Or
that is you *can* play it, but I wouldn’t. It’s rather lame…
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Last night MPs voted on whether or
not we should have a national referendum about remaining part of the European
Community, whether we should leave it, or whether we should somehow
renegotiate a better deal.
The trouble with the whole European
question is that it goes against the narrow-minded jingoistic attitude which
the “tits and bingo gutter press”
originally delighted in stirring up. And it made sense for the “tits and bingo gutter press” to stir
up this attitude. If they could make up lies about Johnny Foreigner living it
up at the British tax-payer’s expense, then it sold their newspaper.
And now newspapers of all shades
are running down the European ideal for much the same reason.
What everyone seems to have
overlooked is their history lessons. English history for the last thousand
years has been (pretty much) a
non-stop blood-bath in which England has been picking fights with every
European country that was ever on the map. A history which has taken a rather
different course since we joined the whole “European thing” back in the 1970s. And other countries who’ve
done little else but fight each other for hundreds of years are now staunch
allies.
The bureaucracy might cost, but
surely it’s worth the cost of peace in Europe?
The obvious next step is to beef up
the United Nations and give it some real power. However that’s not the step
being taken. Instead, as the
Scots go their own way, the United Kingdom looks to
becoming far less united than ever it was.
Perhaps we
might mount a pre-emptive commando raid on the people living on the next
street. For no better reason than that they live on the next street, and not
on mine (!)
I spent a
little while looking at on-line car sharing today. Getting to Canterbury ain’t cheap, and I was wondering if I might share the
costs. Kent
County Council offer a
car sharing scheme, so I’ve signed up to it. I suppose I’m running the risk
of ending up with an axe-murderer, but it might save a few quid.
And then I saw this
advert. I’ve phoned for more information. Money might be
tight for a year or so, but I’ve all but decided to apply to become a teacher
by “Employment based training”…
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Last night
on the way home from Chris’s house I nearly ran over two cyclists. Neither of
whom had any lights on their bikes, and both of whom
were dressed in black.
I was
rather tired today – whilst I don’t think I can say I was awake all night, I
certainly saw every hour. I think I had half an hour’s sleep between 4.15am
and 4.45am. For no apparent reason I was alternatively running very hot and
very cold. I wonder what that was all about And the noise of the rain on the
windows didn’t help.
Work looked
like being a dull day, but there was a sudden spot of excitement: one of my
colleagues announced he’d been bitten. And sure enough, he had. The wound
looked quite vicious, but we had no idea what had fanged him.
Swimming –
half an hour’s breast stroke covered twenty six lengths. I’m improving. Mind
you, there was a lot of splashing going on in the pool tonight. And some of
the regulars weren’t there either.
And a text
message – my grand-dogs have met, and seem to be getting on famously. That’s
good.
I’m off to
bed…
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Here’s some bad news: no matter how hard
you try to lose weight, it would seem that your body conspires against you.
People who’ve lost over ten per cent of their body weight (like I will soon have) have to contend
with hormonal changes which increase the appetite. Which
explains why I always feel hungry. Still, I will persevere.
Meanwhile it
would seem that crash helmet technology is improving in leaps and bounds
thanks to research about why woodpeckers
don’t get headaches. It amazes me that science has
taken so long to come up with this one.
The news
also had something which sounded as though it had promise. Every evening the
financial bit mentions how much a Euro is worth in pounds and pence. Tonight
it was worth eighty-eight pence. This came as something of a surprise, as it
is *always* worth eighty-seven
pence. One of the listeners had emailed in to ask why this was. And this is
something I’ve always wondered myself. I was intrigued, and looked forward to
the explanation.
The answer (however) was dull: I for one
was disappointed. But I did find myself asking that if the pound and the euro
are demonstrably of equal value, and have been for some time, how would
entering the Euro hurt the UK economy?
I did some
more research on car sharing today. One website seemed to think that I drove
248 miles to work every day (and the
same again coming home). Another one said it would send me a
confirmatory email, and then denied all knowledge of me. There is always the
bus, but for all that a monthly ticket would save me loads of cash, I
wouldn’t get home until 7.30pm.
I then spent a little while
preparing for tomorrow evening’s talk to the astro
club. It’s been in preparation for a year, so I hope it goes down well. And
then ironing whilst watching “Terra
Nova” and “Star Trek”. I must
love it…
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Spare a
thought for my cousin today. She absolutely *loves* Halloween and everything
spooky. She’s taken her family to Euro Disney for a holiday which has cost them thousands of pounds, only to find that Euro Disney
hasn’t decorated the place for Halloween this year. She’s not happy.
And also
spare a thought for Lamna Dauda, who is
“seeking a serious long term
relationship and more. Someone who is responsible, respectful, can take care
of themselves, and who is employed special to capture my heart and knows how
to handle it with care, one who will cherish me and be willing to share
life's greatest joys and sorrows. Someone who's willing to spoil, pamper and
love me unconditionally, whom is kind, sincere, honest, passionate, loyal,
sense of humor, loving and wants a lifetime of
passion and also knows how to have fun but can be serious when needed., so
only serious inquiries will be accepted. I hope to hear from you soon I'm
looking for a soul-mate...a best friend for life! Someone I could talk to
about anything....A good listener, smart and funny! I'd give the same to the ONE !! Who knows - may be you are my twin-soul” She’s
asked to add me as a friend on Facebook. I remain dubious about her.
Being the
last Friday of the month meant it was astro club.
The evening went well – I was speaking about comets, and the talk was OK. I
think I did the talk better a few weeks ago at the SEKAS club: I could
probably have done with having rehearsed the thing a few more times. And my
unfamiliarity with the PC didn’t help. But it went OK. I then got a bit
distracted with the raffle, and ended up selling strips rather than
individual tickets. (I’ve a lot on my
mind at the moment!)
But it
could have been worse. Poor Drew (our
chairman) had his lap-top battery die on him half way through his
presentation on the autumn sky. I think that’s because I used all it’s power earlier….
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I was up
with the lark, and did the weekly weigh-in. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight
this week. I now notice that when I look in mirrors I’m obviously thinner
than what I was. There’s still quite a bit of blubber to shift yet, though.
After a
bite of brekky I sorted the money from last night’s
astro club meeting. I might not know much about
astronomy, but I can count the takings, and take it to the bank.
We strolled
up to town, and paid the money into the bank. I then had a nosey at the
market stalls. In the past I’ve got an apple and a carrot for lunch from Asda on a daily basis. Three days’ worth from Asda comes to more than a week’s worth from the market
stall. And as money is now tighter than it has ever been for me, I shall be
going back to that market stall more often.
And back
home again. ‘er indoors
TM (and a gaggle
of girlies) went off to Folkestone to get their feet chewed by fish. I
fell asleep watching the film “Mission to Mars”, and then did the
ironing. It’s amazing how ironing piles up when you’re not looking.
And with
the ironing done I popped round to visit “My Boy TM
”. For a long time I’ve been hankering after a lean-to in which to
put the rubbish and the recycling. He’s built one, and says he will build me
one as well. He’s a good lad. Whilst he went shopping, me
and Fudge went for a walk. Fudge is getting more and more excitable’ it’s
been suggested that it might soon be time for Fudge to go to the vet’s for
extraction of his “Flowers and Frolics”. I don’t think he’ll like that
very much…
Saturday
evening has been film night for many years. The tribes gather at Chris’s
house and watch a couple of films. Normally I’m not a “films kind of guy”,
but this evening I made an exception. And I was glad that I did. The Green
Lantern was a film I’ve wanted to see for ages, and it was really good. And
then after a short break was the fourth of the “Pirates of the Caribbean”
films. I did like it, but as the film went on, I found myself dozing off. It
was getting late…
And in
closing, spare a thought for Sir Jimmy Savile who
died today.
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A
relatively good night’s sleep, and then an hour lying awake worrying about
money. I really shouldn’t worry about money, but I do.
I then did
a little fiddling with the accounts on-line, and
after a spot of brekky I had a look-see on the Internet.I then tweaked my Sky subscription. We’ve so
many DVDs in the house; we don’t really need the movies channel. And I can’t
see the difference between HD and normal TV, so the HD went. That’s saved
thirty quid each month.
Chip
arrived, and we set off to Folkestone for our planned walk. My mobile then
went crazy. Unfortunately there would seem to be a dose of the lurgie going around, and a lot of people had no choice
but to cry off. We were also hoping for an appearance from the Bromley
contingent, but ill health intervened there too. Which was
a shame. So many good friends missed a really good day out.
A quick
cuppa, and six of us (and a dog)
drove down to the East Cliff. Once parked up, we set off. The plan was to
walk to Samphire Hoe along the beach, have a
picnic, and walk back again. Things got off to an iffy start when I realised
that the tide was higher than I was expecting and I got a wet foot. But we
pressed on regardless. I spent a few minutes trying to photograph a wave, and
got soaked when a big one took me by surprise.
Just off
the beach, in a very secluded spot we found what looked like a beach hut with
a wonderful view, and the lady outside it invited us up to have a look. It
turned out that it wasn’t a beach hut – it was her house. Built on a little
wooden platform just up from the beach, it’s in a wonderful location
Sheltered from the winds; there’s no roads or easy way of getting to the
place, other than walking along the shore for a mile or so. But she said that
it kept her fit.
We got
chatting: apparently she spent a year or so living in a tent in various
places all over Folkestone Warren until she found the spot she liked best.
She then checked with the land registry and found that no one owned the land,
so she built a wooden platform and based her tent on it for a few months. And
when no one had complained, she then built a little hut, and has been living
there ever since. Good for her!
We then
carried on along the beach, finding another home-made house on the beach on
the way. And then we had a dilemma. It was high tide, and we could go no
further unless we scrambled over some rocks. I clambered up a bit, reviewed
the situation, and was on the point of announcing that we could go no further
when I realised that Chippy had already got past
the rocks and was waving from the other side. So having realised I could go
further after all, I did.
But not a
lot further. As I scrambled in an easterly direction, a nice lady was
scrambling in a westerly direction, grumbling that it wasn’t possible to get
to Samphire Hoe unless it was at low tide. And
within half a mile we saw what she meant. We were within half a mile of our
destination, but the sea was washing right up to the cliff face. There was (at least) two hundred metres of beach
which were under water and so were impassable.
We had our
picnic lunch and sulked. But didn’t sulk for long.
On the way
back there was a tunnel into the cliff face, and so Stevey
felt the urge to go investigate. I was quite keen on the idea, but the tunnel
was a little way up the slope, and I chickened out. I was about to reconsider
my chickening out after ten minutes had passed and Stevey
hadn’t re-emerged, but Chip went off on a “Search and Rescue” mission instead, so I let him get on with it.
It turned
out that this hole was actually a ventilation shaft for the train tunnel, and
feeling the change in pressure as the train rattled past was quite
impressive. I wish I’d gone up there now. Pausing only briefly to watch the
penguins swimming past, we made our way back to base for a cuppa and a
Maryland cookie (57 calories)
before coming home.
It had been
a wonderful day out: just a shame that so many friends weren’t able to join
us. As always, there are photos of the event on the
Internet; in fact in more than one
location.
And so
home, and after a spot of tea I knocked off some more job applications. Two
to be a mortgage advisor, and one to be an NVQ assessor. It doesn’t hurt to
try….
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It takes me
a little while to get used to the clocks having gone back. But did you know
that this year the Russians haven’t
bothered with the nonsense. They have left the clocks on the
summertime setting, with darker mornings and lighter evenings. As a mad keen
astronomer, I’d rather have the darker evenings. As someone who’s driving
home in the dark, I’d rather have lighter evenings. As someone who can’t get
used to the clocks changing, I wish we could copy the Russians and leave the
things alone regardless of whethere the mornings or
evenings are lighter or darker.
And it’s
Halloween tonight. We had three loads of “Trick
or Treat”-ers round tonight. That’s an
improvement on last year. I like “Trick
or Treat”…
Today’s
news wound me up somewhat. Bearing in mind the problems with piracy in
various parts of the world, the Prime Minister has only just announced that
British ships can take armed
guards with them. Up until now, merchant shipping
has had to stand by helplessly as armed pirates sail up to them and take over
at gunpoint. Now the decent law-abiding majority can shoot back at the
pirates. Good (!)
And talking of today’s news, I see
the astro club is on the BBC
website. I could be wrong, but aren’t they using one of my
photos?
And talking
of the astro club, we had a committee meeting
today. We shall be a part of Stargazing Live 2012. The club merchandise is
coming along well. I’ve agreed to do a talk next year (but have absolutely no idea on what topic). The club’s coming on
in leaps and bounds: I’m so glad to be a part of it.
And I’ll
end today’s little rant with the observation that having lost two stone in
weight over the last few months, I’m now (realistically)
still only one third of the way along my weight loss campaign. For all that
I’ve noticeably lost weight; I’ve still got quite a way to go.
I just hope
that the urge to become a lot less porky keeps itself higher on my priorities
than the urge to shove pies down my neck.
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