2 May 2016

And Then Problems...

I’m sure you haven’t missed the fact that one of our ‘political’ parties is facing a few problems - that link goes to The Guardian so don’t expect any comments - and presently seems to be in meltdown. I have nothing to say on the subject other than isn’t it wonderful to see all those ‘I’m secure in my bubble’ dwellers suddenly being surprised and shocked by the sound of very loud pops?

I did, however, think that this comment over at Guido Fawkes site sums it all up rather well:
May Day celebrations; Mayday – Mayday – Mayday

Quote;  ??

What's the difference between a northern fairy tale and a southern fairy tale? A northern fairy tale begins "Once upon a time ..." A southern fairy tale begins "Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit ..."

 

30 Apr 2016

And Then A List...

Sad news from the oil patch yesterday and cause for pause for one of those there but for the grace... moments when I think back to the countless hours I’ve spent in all types of helicopter in all kinds of weather with so many ‘Whoa! What was that?’ moments. A sad day.

            

Right, there may well be some out there who can relate to this. Forgetfulness. Thought so. So’s okay there as it’s not the start to an answer. You cool with that? Cool.

Give me ten minutes and I may remember what I was going to type about. My ten minute break won’t be apparent to you though, will it?  If it is, we may well be communicating via a new, as yet unnamed, dimension. Now that would be cool.

Forgetfulness; you know what I mean but this relates to shopping. I’ve never been big on shopping lists and those I’ve made invariably get left on the coffee table as we go out. You know the deal. Get to store, reach in pocket for list, “Damn! Must’ve left list on coffee table.” This has its upside as I can quickly check what we’ve forgotten as soon as we get home.

But as time whooshes past, and the ‘must remember’ bit of my brain gets ever smaller, and me being the owner of a ‘smartphone’ an’ all, I thought, “Shopping list! I bet there’s an app for that!” and decided to embrace technology, or more accurately, tip my head politely in that general direction, and found that there was, indeed, an app for that. An app? Seems there are hundreds of the suckers out there and many of them seem to be aimed more at nuclear physicist's rather than your average Asda shopper looking at their complexity. However, I did eventually find a simple widget lookin’ thingy that fits my humble needs.

A few days later, while trundling round with our trolley, okay, their trolley we were loaning, my little nest of vipers turned and asked, “We got all we want?”
By way of answer I put on my ‘I’m very cleaver’ look and reached into my pocket. Damn! Must’ve left phone on coffee table.

Smiling, I withdrew my empty hand and, with feigned confidence, said. “Yup, we’ve got everything.”
”Can tell by putting hand in pocket?” She asked, looking at me with those piercing, slightly slanty eyes that always seem to be saying, ’You nuts?’
“That I can.” I replied, quickly moving towards the checkouts.

When we got home, sure enough, there was my telling-bone lying on the coffee table exactly where I used to leave shopping lists.

There is an upside to this. The coffee table was ours and not a coffee table in the furniture showroom we’d looked round prior to heading for the supermarket.

Is there a shouty, ‘Yo! Going out? Don’t forget me!’ app?

Quote; Cynthia Nelms.

“If men liked shopping, they'd call it research.”

29 Apr 2016

And Then A Blister...

Head Rambles has a post on a subject close to my heart relating to modern packaging. Every item you buy seems to be in a bulletproof plastic and indestructible cardboard disaster area does it not? Let’s not forget those staples that, although invisible to the human eye, are always ready and able to bury themselves into your fingers and palms.

An interesting by-the-by to this is a problem I’ve run into, admittedly only a slack handful of times, but annoying nevertheless.

You purchase an item, get it home, spend the rest of the day extracting the item from it’s bombproof blister pack, only to find it isn’t the type you thought it was. This seems to happen more frequently the older you get by the way.

What to do? Dig the receipt and destroyed packaging out of the trash and head for the store, explain the problem only to be told they can’t take it back as the packaging has been opened. You can stand there all day arguing your case, gradually, over time, forgetting why you were where you are and why you’re shouting at a complete stranger who just keeps repeating, “Didn’t you read our returns policy?”

That’s even more annoying than the old screw thingy. I’ve said it before and I’m typing it again; you need three two inch number eight screws to  finish the job and all they sell now, owing to the demise of the old Ironmongers shops, and I still love the little joke at the end of that post, is ridiculously priced packs of a thousand. Man, I hate that.

During a globally warming journey yesterday, we arrived at our destination with two inches of white, icy warming covering the car. The blizzard only lasted about fifteen minutes but he was a beauty! A fitting, freezing time for the old Brooklyn Ode To Spring:

Spring is sprung
Der grass is riz
I wonder where dem boidies is?
Der little boids is on der wing.
Ain’t dat absoid?
Der little wings is on der boid!

So, let’s have some old, very pleasing easy listening that’s also something a tad different. Give it bass people. Did I just say, ‘So,’? No? Well, I must’ve typed it then... Damn!

          

Quote;  Homaro Cantu.

“With a little more tweaking, we could make orange juice in the orange without any packaging or processing.”

26 Apr 2016

And Then, A New Starter...

While reading through the comments, I can’t remember where or relating to what, there was one that mentioned the junior doctors strike that concluded, as close as I remember, that when any of these youngsters are interviewed they start their non-answer with, ‘So,’ I took that with a pinch of salt as we all know the accepted response word in the English language is, ‘Well,’.

To make a long story a tad longer, I was driving through town and, spookily, as I passed a hospital where-with-out was gathered a group of young folk, obviously taking time out from playing Doctors and Nurses, grinning, begging  car drivers to toot their horns and waving Save Our{?} NHS signs, when the local radio started to interview some of the assembled strikers. Guess wot? The first fellow went with ‘Well,’ but the next three, yes, three, all started with ‘So,’. In slightly broken English by the way, but that’s to be expected.

So, has a simple ‘So,’ usurped the widely accepted ‘Well,’ as the leading response precursor word or is it just limited to use by cleaver young health care{?} folk?

So, what can I say? Will I start using  ‘So’ as well? Well, I rarely use ‘Well’ anyway so, probably not.

Quote;  Martin H. Fischer.

“A doctor must work eighteen hours a day and seven days a week. If you cannot console yourself to this, get out of the profession.”

            Steven Moffat

The Doctor: 'You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine, but you really think they're lying to make you feel better?'
Amelia: 'Yeah...'
The Doctor: 'Everything's going to be fine.’

23 Apr 2016

And Then They Just Keep Passing...

They’re ‘passing over’ at an alarming rate this year it seems. Bowie, Haggard, Corbett, Prince, Wood and and so many others. Then I learn from the news this morning that Shakespeare's dead. Apparently he was some sort of writer; for Victoria Wood perchance? Anyhoo, when you’re of an age, all this dead news gives you pause for thought and reflection. Also luck as you think to yourself, ‘Sad, but that’s another one I’ve beaten’. Talk about the last man standing.

I’m guessing this spate of celeb deaths will shortly be announced to have been brought on by the unbearable stress they suffered while imagining the dire consequences of a vote to leave the EU.

In other news, I note Barry O’Barmy has been telling us all how to vote. Bravely done you, I say. Now please wind your neck in and go home, okay? Oh, before you go, what was that you said? If we leave the EU we’ll be way at the back of the queue? Barry, surely you meant the Americanism ‘back of the line’, right? Haaay, wait a cotton pickin’ minute! Dave, you wrote that for him didn’t you? I saw you standing next to him, smiling simperingly, while Bazz belittled the country you were elected to defend so I’m guessing you did. Bad boy!! You hear me David? Bad, bad boy!! Get in your basket! Now!

Before I go, and I hope that doesn’t relate to paragraph one, next time you roll home from work, flop on the sofa and think what a God awful, stressful day that was, reflect upon this and lighten up. With Mr Come-undone flitting round the country, popping up all over the place, the Queen doing walkabouts for her birthday and then that American dude flying in, imagine, if you will, how many hours sleep our security service people have managed over the past few weeks/months and the stress level they’re working at. Kind o’ puts your idea of a stressful day into perspective does it not?

Quote;  James F. Byrnes.

“Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity. They seem more afraid of life than death.”

20 Apr 2016

And Then Food For Thought...

And a beautiful day it was. So beautiful was it that we took off and spent the day wandering round one of they places called a bird and animal garden. Not a proper zoo you understand, but a tad more diverse than a petting farm. This place was just five acres of very nicely laid out parkland with discreetly fenced-off areas housing the usual selection of more or less farm animals and cleaver, very large, almost invisible, caged bird areas.

The highpoint for her outdoors was the chance to get up close to they goofy lookin’ Alpacas with the eyes I’m sure are photo shopped onto all those pictures of ‘refugee’ children.

      Alpaca 7   Alpaca 3   Alpaca 2

On the left, a recently arrived Alpaca who was smuggled into the country amongst a legitimate load of Llamas. Centre is a young refugee Alpaca still stuck in a camp the other side of the channel and I believe the picture on the right is of the lead UK spokes-Alpaca for the EU Remain Packers.

However, the highpoint of the park visit for me, which earned me a tap on the shin from my little nest of vipers, was when I was proffering the entrance fee to the official ticket issuing authority and he, for it was indeed a ‘he’, asked, “Would you guys like a bag of Alpaca food?” 
I responded with the only possible response. “That’d be a bag o’ grass, right? No thanks; we plan to grab a bite to eat at your
cafĂ© before we leave.”
This passed over the official ticket issuing authority’s  head higher than a Heathrow attack drone.

Quote;  Llama Queen.

“Llamas can drive... they just don't know it yet.”