And Then Some Clarification...

Over the Christmas period I had communications, via that Electronic Mail thingy that seems to be gaining in popularity, with a dear old friend from far off work days who informed me that over in Canada the weather hadn’t been all that bad to date but he was about to start cutting logs ready for the onset of colder conditions. I became a tad concerned for his wellbeing so replied quickly  hoping he had all the Health and Safety stuff in place as we’d become, reluctantly, accustomed to during the latter ‘progressive’ years we spent in the oil patch. His reply, below, confirmed my worst fears regards the high priority the old hands took this subject...

  I'm sad that you think I have forgotten all my safety. I do think I had most of it covered. I was wearing a hat but it's only hard when the sweat dries, I was wearing glasses but that was just to see my hand in front of my face and so I don't cut off my own leg. I have a permit......really. You actually can't cut wood here without one. As for the reflective vest, no way I'm going to be mistaken for a Frenchmen here. I do have a bright yellow waistband on my underwear...... does that count? I had gloves but I was only wearing them because they were free :) I did do an announcement, I told the dog to get out of the way. No need to cord off the area as everyone in the area thinks I'm a nutter and won't come near the place. The plaid hat with the ear flaps works wonders. So I've not forgotten my safety, just were I put the chain saw.
   You’re right about having to be old to retire. Being crazy just isn't the free pass I thought it was. To late to change now. Getting older isn't as fun as it was when you were 5 but it sure beats the alternative.   
   Happy belated Birthday. I hope you finely got that bike you wanted when you were 8.

Health an’ Safety? Don’t ya love it?

              

Quote;  Safety Officer??

“I have no idea how to do your job but my book says you’re doing it wrong.”

And Then, Danger...

I’m sure if you’re of an age you’ll be feeling a bit bemused by the kneejerk reaction to the towering inferno - as tragic as it was – and the revelation that all the cladding they’ve tested to date is not fire retardant in the true sense of the word so councils, upon receiving this information, started evacuating the towers.

Would you not think that grownups would’ve taken a slightly less panicky approach and just got a team together and gone round knocking on every door, told the occupants of the test results and asked them to be extra vigilant until the naughty cladding had been stripped out? Oh, and when its all gone, keep on being vigilant; fire hurts.

Inform them that the cladding will be stripped over a period of time and, also over a period of time, third party inspectors will be visiting all apartments to inspect ALL electrical appliances. Any found defective, or the slightest bit iffy, will be instantly turfed out and if the occupier purchases a new item... Pardon? No, you buy it yourself - it will be the occupiers duty to inform the authorities so a similarly rigorous inspection can be conducted before it’s plugged in.

Any apartment found to have a barbeque in the bedroom, the occupants will be instructed to pack their kit, or whatever word fits with that, and move on immediately.

Fire Wardens would also be on site 24/7 during the work period and a permanent concierge will also be instated. All apartments will be provided with a fire blanket and a fire extinguisher. Instructions on usage will be given to those so requesting.

Put a simple slider board outside the main entrance and the last person to leave an apartment for work, or off to the benefits office, simply slides that apartment number marker from ‘Occupied’ to ‘Unoccupied’. Okay, make it simple, from ‘In’ to ‘Out’. First back reverses the marker.

Any tenants who still feel they’d rather move out while the work is done are obviously free to do so. Their choice so their expense of course.

Why not? Up to not all that long ago, we lived in wooden huts with open fires so what’s the big deal? I really don’t see no big deal at all. Sadly, you then only have to look at the make-up of that ghastly Glastonbury crowd and their beatification of an old Marxist whose life experience has been the hazardous task of sitting on a bench at the back of a big room in a big building and banking the bung and a lot falls into place.

Then, to confirm the ‘falling into place’ and add to my thought that there’s no hope for our future, I bumped into this sadness. Have you seen this? You’ll find it here as well. And doctors are actually advocating avocado safety warnings? Hello? Any grownups left out there?

Millions of years of evolution behind us and this is where we are? To pinch a perfect word from a comment somewhere on a different subject, it seems we’re rapidly descending into a time of eternal toddlerdom.

Quote;  Munia Khan.

“There’s an infant part in our souls which longs for the lullaby truths of life every night for a tranquil slumber.”

And Then, More Chips...

It being Friday an’ all, we had a fish and chip lunch. I opted for the healthy option and included one of my five a day; mushy peas. I also had scraps and for any of you unfamiliar with scraps, they’re the left-over bits o’ batter after deep-frying. I doubt these, as good as they are, can be counted as another one of my five a day.

Anyhoo, shortly after not too long ago, there was a pretend post here regarding us all getting kitted out with micro chips. As if that’s ever going to happen eh? Really, how far ‘out there’ can I go?

With that in mind, you can imagine my surprise this morning when I turned on the radio while waiting for the coffee to cook and tuned into the Today program on the BBC - yeah, I know, but an early morning blood boil gets my circulation going for the day – to catch some dame recounting her experiences living with a ‘biohacking implant’ she’s had glued into her hand.  Say what now? You believe that? Maybe the Foggy Mirror ain’t that foggy after all.

Assuming you didn’t catch it, Have a listen here; slide along ‘till you see something close to 1:44:26 in the little ‘follow along’ window. Ensure you’re seated.

After listening to that, thought I to myself, me being all alone and by myself at the time, I’ll Google ‘biohacking’ and was amazed{?} at the number of results. Here’s the only link I clicked.

Seems the future isn’t catching up with us at all; it’s actually overtaking us and it’s kind o’ scary. Wot comes next? Be afraid. Be very afraid.

By-the-by, if you’re staying in this evening and have an abundance of tin-foil to hand, type this into that Google finding stuff thingy; ‘YouTube; Flat earth’.   Bu-by.

Quote;  Edward Bernays.

“The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organised habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country.”

And Then, Beware The Beach...

I note there’s been a spate of sad events round the UK beaches over the past few days. Okay, not actually the beach, more that wet stuff that washes over beaches a pair of times a day.

How many drownings now? Not sure, but there were five on one day, one group, and any moment now the safety nuts will be cancelling their summer holidays and scamper back to their keyboards, TV and radio studios and the newspapers to vent their disgust that the government isn’t doing more towards beach and water safety. They’ll be screeching that some legislation, some legally binding rules and regulations are needed NOW. Sadly, they’ll more than likely get wot they want.

Some of these deaths will undoubtedly be the result of tragic accidents. The key word there being ‘accidents’, while others may well be down to stupidity and it’s impossible to legislate against stupidity. If it was possible, we wouldn’t have a government, right?

Anyhoo, memories came flooding {pun?} back of my life spend on the water. The operative word there is ‘on’ by the way.

I’ve been here before, but just to recap, at pre-sea school they attempted to teach me to swim but didn’t really get there and once on man’s boats, I quickly realised that the vast majority of fellow seafarers didn’t swim either as they had no interest, in the event of a sinking, in treading water in the middle of the western ocean for days. Sink, drown and get it over with was their philosophy.

The ‘rules’ to best avoid accidents on the beach, the rocks and in the sea are pretty simple and, for past generations, pretty obvious. They most definitely didn’t need any safety regulations to ‘enforce’ them.

If the sea is calm and you want to get in it but can’t swim, stop wading when the water reaches your knees. If you can swim a strong hundred meters and fancy a swim, don’t go any further out from the guy paddling than twenty five meters and as an added obviousness, only go out there swimming on an incoming tide. If you’re playing on rocks, stay on the land/lee side of them; They rocks are slippery suckers and damn hard an’ sharp when the sea’s repeatedly whacking you against them. And the best rule of all? If it’s blowing and the sea’s a tad rough, watch it and enjoy the majesty of a stormy sea from the comfort of the seafront pub. Who knows, they may be serving gammon, egg, chips with a pineapple ring...

As an added watery, safety memory, I remembered this wot I posted some time ago. Compare and contrast with our ‘modern’ worldly ways.

There’s also a great post over at Readwald relating to ‘us’ vs the bansturbators and their risk aversion industry. 

Everything has an element of risk attached to it and luckily we’re all, okay, most of us, blessed with the means to evaluate and manage those risks. In it’s simplest form it’s called ‘engage brain to avoid pain’. If only there was an app for that...

Quote;  Frederick Weisel.

“There’s an old adage: the sensation of drowning reminds you of everything you ever knew about swimming.”

And Then–just One More….

Owing to another comment from Caratacus I was reminded of a further safety related item from a while ago and the further I travelled towards my memories event horizon the clearer it became until it was as clear as if it’d happened only fifty years ago.

I was a pup on mans boat at the time. A time when safety was up to you and only limited by your sense of adventure. However, if it was a particularly stupid act you were guaranteed a hefty whack round the head from the Chief Mate or the Bosun - and one of those, just one, was an unforgettable lesson.

The ship was alongside somewhere up the Great Lakes. As was the norm when alongside for more than a few hours, stages were rigged for painting over the side. These stages, as shocking as it may seem to todays pups, were just the equivalent of a scaffold board with horns, rigged on manila ropes. Then, with the cunning use of one hand to hold the two parts of rope tightly together and easing off the turns round the stage with the other hand, you could slowly lower yourself down the hull side.

                   

We didn’t use that cleaver lookin’ hook thingy – we used a length of manila rope with a whipped plain end and a thimble hand-spliced into the other, known as a lizard, as shown on the right. Yup, hand spliced. ‘But the splice could pull out!!’ I here you say, aghast. Well guess what? Not only did you rig your own staging - you spliced your own lizards. Trust me, they NEVER pulled out.

That’s the kit, here’s the scene.

Two seamen were  over the side painting replete with all the kit required for those days. Fall arrestors. Lifejackets. Watchman. Safety boat. Think plan. Permits. Completed hazard assessment…. Your kidding, right? They had scrapers, paint, paint rollers, smokes and a dozen beers hidden in a bucket of rags. Each.

They’d had a heavy run ashore the night before but all was going well. Then one of the two stage working guys coughed violently and fell off the stage into the water. We learned later that he coughed out his false teeth, scrambled about to catch them, failed so jumped in to try and save them….. No, really!

The other guy looked down and noticed his buddy wasn’t visible. He then bounced up to the surface and seemed to be in some distress so he slid down the trailing stage rope, burning his hands in the process, to lend some assistance.** {The ‘distress’, we learned later, was caused by an intake of water but mainly down to him not being able to locate his teeth thus facing the prospect of spending the remainder of a two year trip with no teeth.}

His buddy got him to the dock side where, with some Dockers assistance, he was dragged from the water and promptly passed out.

A Docker had witnessed this excitement from the quay and had called an ambulance into which, upon its arrival, our guy was loaded and, with the Third Mate riding along, off they went with the medics doing that chest pumping, arm lifting stuff.
”Looks like he took on a lot of water.” Observed the Third Mate as fluid poured from the guys mouth.
”We won’t know ‘till we get all the beer out of him.” Replied a somewhat puzzled medic.

About three hours later he was not only back on the ship but back on the staging. Sulking as he was, sadly, toothless. And his chest and arms hurt from the medics pummelling.

And that was that. No recriminations, no investigations, no meetings, no lessons learned. Life went on and the world continued its leisurely rotation.

Six years on mans boats and that was the one and only accident{?} I ever saw.

**Back in the day, very few folk wot went to sea, including me, could swim. Who wants to be alone and treading water in the middle of the Atlantic in winter? It’s summed up quite well in the second quote.

Quote;  Samuel Butler.

“The Ancient Mariner would not have taken so well if it had been called The Old Sailor.”

      James Clavell.

“If you're a sailor, best not know how to swim. Swimming only prolongs the inevitable — if the sea wants you and your time has come.”

And Then The Last H & S Bit….

To draw a line under the ‘Ealth & Safety posts, and as a supplement to the common sense obituary, below is a clip to make anyone of an age hark back to the days of yore and also to a time before that other vast money-making ‘industry’ kicked off – good ol’ work-place training. Back to the days when individuals were left to figure stuff out for themselves and, occasionally, with guidance from their peers. I’m sure no better way to learn has yet been devised. What was the old saying? Engage brain to avoid pain?

Anyone around my age, an age when I occasionally create havoc in car parks if I have to reverse and when walking generally clutter-up town and city centres for no good reason, confuse bar staff, and myself, when attempting to order food from their pictogram menus  and even somehow manages to make the countryside and shore-side look untidy just by being there, should be able to relate to this clip and wonder, as you do, where it all went so very wrong. In fact anybody over, what, fifty? should be able to relate the clip to jobs they took back in the day. This guy nails it for me.  It says so very much in a very short clip.

Do I miss it all out there? I miss how it once was; I sure don’t miss how it now is.

If you feel I’m a tad cynical regarding modern day safety practices, and to ensure you return to your side of the Foggy Mirror with a smile, please go to that Stuff You May Like thingy on the left and scroll down to ‘Stay Safe!!’.                 Or click this to save unnecessary wear and tear on you mouse or track-pad.

Quote;  Thomas A. Edison.

“I have friends in overalls whose friendship I would not swap for the favor of the kings of the world.”

And Then There Was A Little H & S….

A lovely comment from Caratacus reminded me of a little pretend tale I was want to recount to Safety Officers, much to their annoyance,  back in the days when Health and Safety was slowly{?} morphing into the huge, sad monster we see today.

Many years ago, two brothers decided to seek employment out on the rigs. They got an interview with a rig manager and, by an amazing stroke of fortune, it transpired the manager was a guy they saw once in a while down the pub and had a head nodding, “Hi there” sort of relationship with.

As a further stroke of luck, the manager needed a couple of warm bodies out on his rig PDQ.
”So, assuming you can start right away, the jobs are yours.”
”We’re ready and raring to go.” said the brothers.
”Okay, I’ll get you along for a medical and then out to the rig tomorrow.”
”Cool.” And off they went to the Docs.

After their medicals they reported back to the manager for further instructions.

“Well,” he said focusing on one brother, “You’re fit to go but, sadly, I can’t hire your brother as he has a slight hearing defect and as it’s a hazardous environment out there you really need your five senses firing on all cylinders and one hundred percent hearing is vitally important. Sorry about that.”
”That’s a shame but we understand and accept it.”
”Right, I’m heading to the rig tomorrow so if you roll up here at the crack we’ll go out together.”

And this he did. And out together they went.

On the rig the ‘lucky’ brother quickly found his bunk, got changed and reported to the Control Room for a last word from the manager.

“When you go outside the Deck Pusher will be waiting for you and he’ll show you the ropes, okay?”
”Cool. I’ll get going then.” and he headed for the door.
”Yo!! Wait!! Wait!! You need a pair of these.” said the manager  handing him a set of ear defenders. “It can be noisy out there, especially in the engine room, so you need ear defenders.”
The full functioning brother put them on and noted how good they were at eliminating almost all sound. He removed them and asked, ”So I need to wear these if I go in the engine room, right?”
”Err, no, you need to wear them at all times while working.”
”Right. Hay, tell me again why you couldn’t hire my brother.”

The other brother, spotting a shift in wind direction, went on to ‘study’ Health and Safety, got a diploma and become a third party Safety Advisor to the offshore oil and gas industry and, remembering his earlier experience, became an unbelievable pain in the butt for anyone he came into contact with in an ‘advisory’ capacity.

How could I possibly post a post on this subject without pasting this at the end of the post;

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting (adults, not children, are in charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned, but overbearing, regulations were set in place.

Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, teenagers suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they had themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer paracetamol, sun lotion or a plaster to a pupil, but could not inform the parents when a pupil became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home, but the burglar could sue you for assault because you protected yourself and your own.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live after a woman failed to realise that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion, his daughter, Responsibility and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm A Victim. Not many attended his funeral because so few realised that he was gone.

Quote;  Dr Robert Long.

“What a strange sense of logic to fixate on the absence of something (injury) as a demonstration of the presence of something else (safety). Such a proposition misunderstands the dynamic of risk and being human.”

And Then There Was A Commentary….

This was spotted over at Anna Raccoons place. I’m linking from You-tube to here via that HTML stuff. Don’t worry your pretty little heads about that, that’s for us code kiddies, okay?

I’ve placed it here for any of my old buds, wot I worked with when I was in the world, who may ramble through here every now and then. They will instantly relate to this. It should be so funny. Sadly, it’s so true.

Below are a few collected words regarding Health and Safety in our ‘progressive world’. The first, I know, is from Michael Crichton. The others, I’m almost positive, were collected, many years ago, from Nanny Knows Best.

Please accept my apologies if I’ve breached any of that copyright stuff, but I feel all the words below need saying over, and over, and over again. And again. To anyone who’ll listen. Damn, there’s that listening thing again, and therein lies the problem.

"The current near-hysterical preoccupation with safety is at best a waste of resources and a crimp on the human spirit, and at worse, an invitation to totalitarianism."
----
Nanny is speaking with forked tongue; it is not about safety at all, it is in fact about making us totally reliant on her so that we will not even be able to wipe our backsides without her assistance.

Life is all about learning to cope with risk and disaster by trying to minimize or eliminate risk ourselves (which is, of course, impossible). Nanny is ensuring that future generations will grow up without the necessary survival instincts and skills for living a full and rewarding life.
-----
People who take no risks set low expectations
-----
Since when is risk taking a fault?

Many successful businesses, and indeed empires, have been built by risk takers. Were Nanny to succeed in eliminating risk takers from society, she would in effect destroy our future prosperity and future prospect.

Aggression and risk taking have driven the human race forward from the caves which they originally inhabited. To try to "modify" these valuable traits will destroy our future.
-----
The Nanny state is a blight on people's lives, it saps their individuality and initiative. We are no longer able to act without the "approval" of bureaucratic deadheads, whose own "lust for life" long since withered on the vine.

Nanny is destroying society, people no longer think about what they are doing and are now happy to mindlessly obey her daft over prescriptive rules.

It is time that we started to think for ourselves again.

Quote; C. S. Lewis.

"Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victim may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated, but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."

And Then They Worked Again, Just….

That’s that then. Wot then? The base for the new shed be laid is wot then.

I remember, vaguely, years ago, news of a young guy making it to being a millionaire. How’d he do it? He was the bestest, fastest paving slab layer in the whole wide world. That’s how he done did it. I’ve just laid thirty two paving slabs over two days and you know what? That boy earned every penny of his million.

It was a team effort as ‘Her Indoors’ was always there to help when I needed to stand up-right. To be honest, right now, I ache in places I didn’t know I had places.

As an aside to this, over here is a sad tale of flourie jackets an’ stuff. I had a visi jacket moment myself that day while buying sand. Said sand wasn’t in the usual place in the DIY super store, but I did spot an assistant person, through the big plastic curtain, in the warehouse.

I stepped through the curtain and called out with a cheery “Halloo.” to be greeted in return with a panicky, “Step back! Step back! Health and safety! No safety gear!”
”I just want to ask a question old boy.”
”Please step back. There’re cameras!” By this time he was up with me so we escorted each other the three feet back through the curtain without incident.
” I just wanted to know if you’ve got any sharp sand?”
”Sure have, it’s in the warehouse. I’ll take your truck and put ‘em on. How many? One? Two?”
”Ten bags please.”
”Ten bags………. Ten?”
”Ten.”
”Ten. Tell you what, put this yellow looking jacket on and you can get ‘em yourself!”
”No probs. Thanks for your assistance.” Pratt.

See? At the prospect of having to put out, the rules changed. The sad thing is, the warehouse was a mirror of the store. Only difference being, no people, nobody. So the really sad thing is – how long before there’s a rack of yellow jackets by the main store door? Put one on before you shop. Hay! Hard hats as well, eh? You just know it’s coming. I can feel it in my water.”

The tricky part of the operation was navigating the truck, while maintaining momentum, through the store to the check-out. You know, set and drift and stuff. And the obligatory one wobbly wheel. See what I mean? Those other shoppers should have been wearing those flouriescent jackety thingies as I pushed, slid and skidded my way through.

I could, of course, have paid, then driven round to their off-loading area to pick the bags up but I’m sure you can figure the response I got upon presenting this complex request.

Quote; Ellen DeGeneres.

“Friends will write me letters. They run out of room on the front of the letter. They write 'over' on the bottom of the letter. Like I'm that much of a moron. Like I need that there. Because if it wasn't there, I'd get to the bottom of the page: 'And so Kathy and I went shopping and we-----' That's the craziest thing! I don't know why she would just end it that way.”

And Then There Was An Urgent Correction….

I feel that, in the interests of Health and Safety, I must correct the last bit of my last post which I now see was a tad irresponsible. I just hope I’m in time.

I may have given the impression that grownups can confront our modern youth by saying things like;

“Hay! Kid!! Get off it! Let someone else have a look. Go learn to read or something.”

This form of response to kids hogging your cartoon is, of course, completely unacceptable and probably dangerous in our modern, progressive society.

Probably a more appropriate response would be, spoken in a firm, commanding voice, “Now, put the gun down and step away from the cartoon.”

If you choose this form of approach it should be used with extreme caution and, I must stress, will depend on several important criteria, some of which are, but not limited to, how much alcohol you’ve consumed, as this will govern your courage quotient, you’re wearing a bullet proof vest and how many of your, equally drunk and similarly attired, friends are acting as backup.

Let’s be honest here, the favoured response is just to pretend you haven’t seen anything, hide round the corner and come back to the cartoon when the kid has tired of it, two minutes on average, and moved on to something new with more bright colours and flashy bits.

If, however, the kid sees you glance at him as you hurry by, he will probably say something along the lines of, “Yo’ old man, like, wot you be, like, lookin’ at, innit?”

The simplistic reaction to this, assuming you’re sober, bullet proof vestless and friendless, is to run away really, really quickly.

For those of you of an age, like me, that running more than two feet would result in a heart attack, in itself no guarantee you won’t get a supplemental kicking, the accepted response is to fall to your knees, wring your hands and whimper, “Please, please don’t hurt me. Just take the cartoon and let me go. Please. I won't tell.”

At the very least, three ‘pleases’ should be used. Further ‘pleases’ can be added as you feel the situation demands. There’s no upper limit.

It could also be advantageous to force a couple of tears, assuming you’re not already crying in fear or from hurting your knees as you assumed the begging position. Or both.

Other visual aids to consider are snivelling, dribbling and shuffling about on your knees. This last option will depend on your personal pain threshold.

I just hope I’ve got this post out in time and haven’t caused any unnecessary grief with my silly old-fashioned ideas of yesterday.

You could always arm yourself with a Taser. {Makes me laugh every time I read it.}

Quote; Paul Merton.

“On my first day in New York a guy asked me if I knew where Central Park was. When I told him I didn't he said, 'Do you mind if I mug you here?'.”

And Then There Were Some Bangs….

…but not as many as previous years it seems. Other years it seemed fireworks were going of most evenings ‘till late for a couple of weeks before the fifth. Very little this year, and not too heavy tonight.

Do they cost a lot? I have no idea – all I remember is tuppny bangers. Now, they were fun!! We would chase each other all over the place with those things. Light, wait, throw. They had very temperamental fuses though, and getting the throw bit right after lighting was more down to good luck than judgement.

Back then though we were allowed to learn by our mistakes and banger throwing was a good example. Get one of those little suckers go off in your paw was sore. Only once. After that it was gloves, upper class, hanky wrapped hand, middle or your woolly pulley arm pulled down over your hand for us poor kids.

The good fun was setting the little beauties off in different containers an’ such to see how to get the maximum effect for your two pence. Under water was interesting but too prone to failure and thus considered a waste of explosives. Tin cans were good, as were small plastic boxes and cats. What? Oh, come on. I’m only kidding. I don’t think we had small plastic boxes back then.

And let’s not forget blowing up your least favourite Airfix model plane! The one you got glue on the inside of the cockpit ‘glass’ and the transfers were crooked. Remember that one? I always ha a couple ready. On a good day they would burn as well. Simple things, simple fun.

"What are you up to boy?"
"Just blowing this model plane up Dad."
"Oh, alright then. Hay, you seen the cat?"

Anyhoo, whatever happened to the great British tuppny banger? Be he out there?

Quote; Edward Koch.

“The fireworks begin today. Each diploma is a lighted match. Each one of you is a fuse.”

And Then There Was Some Help….

Pardon? What? What did you say? You’ve seen it before? Damn. What? You as well? Okay, okay, go ahead, rub it in, it goes back a bit, I know. Just skip it then and continue reading below.

Letter of the day? Can’t dispute that………

And while I’m here, on the radio this morning was a young guy wot was talking about how he is making a bit of money odd jobbing as he can’t find proper, full-time work. Said he does the occasional bit of gardening but can’t get into serious garden work as he doesn’t have a chain saw licence. That stopped me in my tracks. He doesn’t have a WHAT? A chain saw licence? When and where, by the seven powers of nanny, did THAT come from?

Two things spring to mind; why would that stop the young guy if he’s hungry, and, now this is the scary bit, who’s fulfilling job is it to prowl the highways and byways listening out for chain saws ready to pounce to check the saw drivers licence? Don’t it make you despair of what we’ve become? Yes? Gentleman at the back? Thank you; it’s not just me then.

I’m only guessing here, but are chain saws up there with tobacco, strong drink and sharp stuff? Do you need to pass a chain saw test, prove you’re not a Texan and show your licence before you can buy or rent one? That don’t make it any the less sadder, unless you ARE a Texan of course, it’s just me be thinking it about aloud.

Quote; Tommy Cooper.

"Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off."

And Then There Were Three Steps….

I have been meaning to post the last line of this piece for some time and the kick I needed was buying a set of step ladders the other day.

This was a set of three-step steps. Three steps. Included with the steps, three steps, were three A4 pages of tightly typed shiny paper, with diagrams, explaining how to use the three steps and instructing me on the safe use of the three steps and what they couldn’t be used for, all three steps. These instructions and warnings are condensed and glued all over the step-ladder, all three steps.

I mean, where is this coming from? There are three steps for crying out loud, three! A page of instructions for each step? (Yea, I know. I’ve seen the advertizingment, “….I were given the wrong type of ladder an’ I got loads o’ money!”

Risk of litigation aside, do people really need all this? Are we all that gooney? Do we need to be told not to stand on the really thin hand-hold bitty at the top, with one foot, while leaning forty-five degrees to port? Do we? Of course not. Did we ever try doing that? Sure did. Did we fall? Sure did. Did we learn from that? Sure did. Did we do it again? Sure didn’t.

Did we sue? Didn’t. Why not? Didn’t give it a thought, and if we had, still wouldn’t. Why not? Too damn shy, that’s why not. “Yes I did Your Honour. There was nothing with the step-ladder to say I shouldn’t. Oh, and I was wearing frogman’s flippers ‘couse, again, there was nothing in the instructions to say I shouldn’t. Pretty damn stupid eh? Can I have the money now? I want to go home.”

“Hay, how did you lose the tip of your finger?”
”Peeling potatoes.”
”Oh dear. Sharp knife?”
”No, the step ladders I was using slammed shut on me.”
”Oh dear. Kind o’ stupid to use steps don’t ya’ think?”
”What? Why? Nothing in the book to say I shouldn’t use ‘em for peeling potatoes, an’ I was in a hurry.”

I well remember more or less just dumping my little nest of vipers, who is a foreign person from Southern Eastish Asiarainia, when we moved over to Englandistan and I had to go back over there to work.

A ‘Little Nest of Vipers’ earlier…..

On getting back over there I guess a bit of nanny kicked in and I found myself ‘phoning a couple of times a day to make sure all was well. Central heating? Gas fires? Shopping? Top step leaning? Flippers? Potato peeling? Don’t step on and off moving buses like wot you’ve been used to be doing as that’s not allowed where you be now. Coping with the Polish language lessons? So on and so forth.

On day three she asked why I was phoning so much rather than the agreed one call a week. I explained I was concerned and wanted to make sure she was managing okay.

And this was her reply, which, for me, says it all.

"If you keep trying to hold my hand, I'll never learn to walk on my own."

‘Nuff said.

Quote; Henry Louis Mencken.

“The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.”