It’s quiet here owing to an extremely sad, close family loss and will remain so for a while yet to come. No, not me, I’m hanging on...
Close family but recently not so close owing to my world wide wanderings. Those of you familiar with the structure of a flock of sheep will also understand when I say I'm the black one at the back but this has never diminished my love and affection for all family present and past. Amen.
Quote; Irving Berlin.
“The song is ended but the melody lingers on.”
An apology to anyone out there wot’s missed the tap-top-tapings of ol’ Foggy but it’s been a sad week.
A week ago I received the sad news of the passing of a close family, UK, member at the age of 86 thus thoughts and deeds have been elsewhere.
The cremation was yesterday
and it was sad but good to meet long lost relations and friends, many of whom I haven’t seen for more years than can be counted on the fingers and toes of two hands and two feet. The main observation? Oh how we’ve
all aged.
Hopefully, back to wot passes as normal here next week. Thank you.
Quote; Dr. Seuss.
“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
A couple of nights ago, we turned in and went to sleep. So far, so wot. Well, at midnight I was awakened by a beep followed by tow or three beeps quickly followed by a rapid beep beeping. Wot the hay? There’s nothing on other than the dehumidifier out on the landing. Could that be it? I reached for the socket switch remote, clicked off and a couple of seconds later the beeping stopped. By-the-by, my little nest of vipers slept through it all as she would indeed sleep through WW111...
My head was now full of wot and why. Full water tank? Never heard before as it just stops automatically. Filters?
Come morning I climbed out o’ bed at nine and at about eleven, when finally awake, checked the dehumidifier. All cool but I cleaned the filter just in case as it’s been a while.
Next night, guess wot, midnight woken by beeping yet again. Once mor clicked the dehumidifier off, no more beeping, time for sleeping and that was when a really, really loud beep bounced into my old head and for anybody still here, this is why.
We have a wireless wall clock in the bedroom; nothing fancy, just a digital clock displaying the time – hence the name clock I guess – the day, date and temperature. It’s wireless to the power of two. Battery operated so no wires and also wireless. This is not modem dependent but from some RF signal that’s out there in the ether. Ether? A medium that was once supposed to fill all space and to support the propagation of electromagnetic waves.
Anyhoo, a couple of days ago I noticed the time was a couple of hours out and this is an indication that the batteries need changing – they last a couple or three years. This I did but for some reason it was taking a long time to connect and reset.
I fiddled with the back and noticed a switch marked A On – A Off was set to off. Wow, we’ve had this clock for eighteen problem free years but wot the hay, I switched to all on, checked the face and all was as it should be.
Now we come to the really loud beep that bounced into this ever ageing head o’ mine. Obvious isn’t it? A ON – A Off isn’t the abbreviation for All is it? It’s Alarm...
Just another example of this old fellow getting ever dumber un a brick with every passing ‘problem’. Oh dear, how sad, never mind.
Quote; George Bernard Shaw.
“You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”
And that would be? Why going out or going to bed of course. How can that be hard? Read on as it’s quite possible you’ll relate or your turn will come.
Not long ago, leaving the house for shopping or whatever, was straightforward. Coats on, get car key, lock the door and off we went. But with age{?} this simple routine has become quite complex for me.
Okay says my little nest of vipers, let’s go. Okay says I but first I’ll confirm the backdoor’s locked – of course it is, we haven’t opened it since we awoke. Ensure nothing is on in the kitchen and turned off at the plug, fridge and freezer doors tight closed, turn off the modem, turn off the televisual receiving unit and satellite box, no standby nonsense, check nothing is charging, turn off tablet to guard against instantaneous combustion – hay, who knows? Wallet in pocket? Check - again. Did I check the back door? Think so but just in case. Was everything off in the kitchen? Just another quick look. Lock front door, with us on the outside, put key in pocket. Check wallet still there, get in car and check door key is still in pocket. Cool, let’s go. Oh, did I turn off the computer? Did I even turn on the computer? Better go back in to check. Better triple check the back door and kitchen gadgets while I’m here. Strange, nothing’s changed.
A close repeat at bed time. Just add a look out the window to ensure the car wing mirrors are tucked-in thus signifying the car’s locked.
Let’s not get into the number of times I check my plastic is tucked back in my wallet after a trip to an ATM...
So the simple task of leaving the house has become an almost five minute walk-round. Could be I’ll soon need a printed check - tick list.
Man, old age sure is time consuming which is a tad sad as it’s time wot’s running out...
Quote; Steve Maraboli
“Rename your ‘To-Do’ list to your ‘Opportunities’ list. Each day is a treasure chest filled with limitless opportunities; take joy in checking many off your list.”
Patti Digh.
“Sometimes our stop-doing list needs to be bigger than our to-do list.”
A quiet day of remembrance with thoughts shared with all those from the USA, especially all those I’ve met and worked with, on this 11 September. So much yet to put right.
To all my friends, over there, over here in the UK, our Prime Minister will be along any time now to offer her thoughts and support on this sad day. Or send a Tweet...
This morning, it being a holiday an’ all, was spent doing that five yearly shed clean-out. I have to say a good part of the time was spend wondering what certain, new looking bits of stuff were originally for and if it wasn’t used back then, why did I keep it? Giving that no never mind, I ended up with four bags which I took to the dump after deciding I’ll never need any of it. Not until tomorrow anyway.
Further to that Rommy Tobinson fiasco, I saw somewhere a link thingy, which I neglected to copy, to something the West Yorkshire police has put out on Twatter. Basically, they were asking folk to be vigilant with kids and to help them lock-up grooming gangs. I’m guessing the forces communications officer isn’t really in the loop as that was apparently put out shortly after they’d arrested a fellow who has spent a lot of time trying to help the police track down and lock-up groomers. And the eyes of the world are watching this farce unfold.
I noted early doors Saturday Guido Fawkes place had a slack hand-full of comments and they all revolved round Rommy Tobinson. A couple of hours later, comments were ‘off’ and those already posted deleted. There has been no comment facility on any post since so I guess that’s another chap wot’s a tad worried about that pesky ‘free speech’ thingy.
On the plus side, it would seem his once loyal community have migrated, lock, stock and two smoking keyboards, over to Going Postal. I believe it was there I found the link to the above paragraph subject but with comments running into the thousands, I doubt I’ll find it again.
STOP PIXEL: Damned if I didn’t find the link! Oh dear me. Look at the responses. Wot’s that saying again? Think before you Twatter?
Finally, hot on the heels of the ‘scary’ news that this little island will soon be running short of water, we learn that the midlands had so much water fall on it last night that folk were drowning in the street.
All-in-all Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Blighty anymore.
Just up, a worthwhile read over at, spookily, Going Postal.
Quote; Utah Phillips
“The state can't give you free speech, and the state can't take it away. You're born with it, like your eyes, like your ears. Freedom is something you assume, then you wait for someone to try to take it away. The degree to which you resist is the degree to which you are free...”
If you haven’t already had the misfortune to read of the latest decent into unreality, please pop over to Head Rambles. Feel free to start shaking your head in disbelief even before you click on the link.
Lord only knows what we’ll find when the bottom of that barrel folk are frantically scraping at finally gives out and we all fall through. Tell you wot; it ain't going to be very pretty.
As for that Brexit thingy, the media seem to be in hyper drive at the moment with, allegedly, only a year to go for us to be gone I thought a picture I shamelessly stole from somewhere some time ago would be worthy of a few pixels here.
Quote; Gary Hopkins.
“All too often, the rabbit hole is as deep as you have dug it.”
Over the past bit of a while, as I run into news that’s hard to believe, I’ve tended to use the phrase, ‘Just when you think things can’t get any worse...’ No more will I type that as it seems to encourage sad and stupid stuff to surface.
And the latest sadness to sail across my browsing bow? A transgender phoned Transport for London - remember that bit – phoned - and the nineteen year-old got all upset and stated to the press, “I just said but I am, I am Aimee Challenor, and they replied ‘but you don’t sound like a miss’. I was just in shock, I didn’t really know how to respond.”
The poor thing didn’t know how to respond? Shrug your shoulders, flick your hair and laugh? Get on with your life? Not a chance. Nineteen years old? Contact your MP is the way to go. And the result of that contact? The MP, who’s obviously as nuts as as the nineteen year old and must have a pretty empty calendar, contacted the Mayor of London. He, in turn, as nuts as he is, apologised unreservedly and is now even considering banning the use of, ‘Ladies and gentlemen’ from the start of public announcements on the London transport system in favour of a more ‘inclusive’ term... Wot, one wonders, would that term be then? Something modern and catchy like, “LGBQUERTY, binaries and non-binaries, welcome to the ten fifteen to.....”
Please note this is not a post along the lines of the freezer cleaning fun; this is happening.
How did it ever get to the point where a minority group, nay one member of a minority group, could squeal in righteous indignation and, potentially, get a polite, formal, normal, form of salutation, that’s been in use since the year dot, consigned to the dustbin of history?
Quote; Charles Osgood.
“Being Politically Correct means always having to say you're sorry.”
Looks like it could be T-light and teddy time again this weekend then.
I have nothing to say regarding the sad events in London other than to say how relieved I was to be told over and over and over that those MP’s and others were kept protected and safe and sound in a safe space within Westmonster. Sadly, many humble folk on the outside, just going about their everyday stuff weren’t so lucky. So it seems, contrary to what I thought, that the first job of government is to protect itself, right?
I’m sure I must’ve missed it but, to date, I haven’t heard the MSM sneak in their views on the mind makeup of the perpetrator relating to his mental health issues and how huge government cuts to health care budgets had made it all but impossible for the fellow to get the help he so obviously needed.
As a further sign of how far we’re being sent down the rabbit hole, read this – okay, try to read this and shudder in despair.
Quote; Terry Pratchett.
“Do you think it's possible for an entire nation to be insane?”
As I’ve said before, every night I retire I think to myself, after that days lunacy, things can’t get any more unreal. I then wake, which in itself is good, to a new day, browse the news and end up shaking ma heed at yet more lunacy.
Wot got me a-shaking in wonderment today? It seems a vegan – I say again a vegan, that’s one vegan, not the whole tribe nor even the chief but just one ordinary{?} vegan, has taken offence to a nursery rhyme tune being chimed - that’s chimed so obviously sans vocals. The so sad kicker is that the one lone vegan voice has won...
From the link to Westmonster below, follow the link therein to the main article a taster of which is this:
“A town mayor granted relief to a local vegan woman who was offended by the lyrics of a nursery rhyme played multiple times a day. The fact the version of the song contained no vocals was no consolation.”
The Westmonster piece ends with this paragraph:
“The slow deterioration of normality in Western society ebbs away as the perpetually offended continue their clamp down on any semblance of normality.”
To end on a lighter note, I honestly can’t stand any and all TV cooking programs. There is, however, just the one show that shines through for me. You watched it? You Gotta Eat Here. Oh the dribbly joy of ‘normal’, heart stopping food!
Quote; Tim Fargo.
“Some people take offense like it's a limited time offer.”
Christopher Hitchens.
“Those who are determined to be ‘offended’ will discover a provocation somewhere. We cannot possibly adjust enough to please the fanatics, and it is degrading to make the attempt.”
As this place has entered a rather melancholy mood and the ghosts of lost friends are haunting our minds, let’s pause and play a song to celebrate the memory of all those friends who left in such an untimely manner.
Let’s also hope, of course, that those we leave behind, when we reach the end of the line, think the same of us. Best not to think about that one too much.
By-the-by, should you find yourself on the banks of the River Styx, remember this;
Man sees someone on the opposite bank and shouts, “Hay! How do you get to the other side?”
”You’re already on the other side.”
Quote; Cicero.
”The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.”
...to Caratacus and A. K. Haart.
Phase One: Not too long ago I posted about my experience regarding ordering an item online, from some retailer who, going by the name, is based up a really big South American river.
Phase two: Today I did one of my infrequent visits to the area below the hood of this place and, as I was there, decided to check if there was any junk stuff lurking therein. Happily, there wasn’t. Sadly, I spotted two comments to the above linked post that I hadn’t had the courtesy of responding to and for that I apologise; and that, including the title, is twice.
For me, once a post is posted it’s on it’s own and I expect them all to fend for themselves. I almost never revisit the spawn of my keyboard. Back in the beginning, I asked Google, nicely, to notify me by E-mail if/when a comment is left.
For some reason, Google dropped the ball with these two comments so I was totally unaware they were there - so for the third and final time, I apologise to you both for the lack of response. Please note, three’s my absolute, extremely rarely used, upper limit when it comes to apologising thus I trust you feel honoured to be in receipt of the maximum.
Caratacus: You can still get that? Have you seen this? I’ve been unable to get their basic joint pill for a long time now but, on the plus side, after bone-bender-boy did his bit and I got my water intake back up to between one and two litres through the course of each and every day, my back be cool. That is that then – no doubt I’ll awake in agony tomorrow.
A. K. Haart: You’re right. Just about every new electrical gadget seems to have the ability to go into standby, go to sleep or be shaken awake - but finding a way to actually turn ‘em off is becoming increasingly complex.
Quote; Amit Kalantri.
“If an apology is followed by an excuse or a reason, it means they are going to commit same mistake again they just apologized for.”
Here’s something almost all you good people out there will be able to relate to.
It came to pass that, needing something to do between now and saying, ‘Out’ on the twenty third of thingy, I prepared to the garden to smarten-up the garden chairs. This could be taken as a euphemism for too mean to get new ones but, hay, they’ve served us well for the three days each year you can use ‘em for many years.
Anyhoo, after the boring preliminaries it was time to mask-up wot didn’t need spray painting prior to – you guessed it – spray painting the chairs.
Off to the shed for masking tape of which I knew I had plenty as it was only, what, nine months ago I purchased a one hundred foot roll of the stuff, five foot rolls being unavailable, of which only six inches was used at that time.
We now come to the part you can all relate to. There’s absolutely no sign of the roll of masking tape. This phenomena is also known to exist regarding the disappearance of rolls of Teflon thread tape where only two inches have been used.
The search was thorough and actually involved moving stuff in the draws to peer below. Nothing. I did, however, find that broken light fitting I decided, many years ago, to keep because...
Off to the DIY mega shop, buy a roll of masking tape – five foot rolls unavailable so settle for another hundred foot roll of the damn stuff, get home, use the required couple of feet and spray paint the chairs.
And thus we come to the part of the project where magic takes over. When packing all the kit away, you’ll find the new roll of masking tape, less the two feet used – okay, six feet counting the four that, again by magic, wrapped itself round your arms and neck, when you put it in the allotted draw, will sit perfectly on top of the old roll. Yup, the old roll’s back from its trip to other dimensions.
Thus it would seem the only absolutely guaranteed method of finding ‘missing’ masking or thread tape, through magical forces not yet fully understood, is to buy a new roll.
Quote; Monty Hall.
“I swiftly discovered that there are few things in DIY (and possibly life) that can't be solved with a large mallet, a bag of ten-centimetre nails and some swearing.”
Yesterday was yet another sad day in an ever lengthening litany of sad days; and Today? Mr Come-undone is holding another of they, aptly named for a snake-oil salesman, Cobra doohickies during which security will be discussed and one wonders if anyone will come up with anything new after all these attacks and meetings or even dare mention the blindingly obvious. I’m guessing that, sometime soon, Dave will be heading to Brussels for another solemn, arms linked walk down a security swept side street in solidarity with all EU ‘leaders’. And then? Then they’ll all go home and wait for the next outrage at which time they’ll be outraged all over again.
In view of the news reports highlighting the apparent lack of intelligence information sharing which ‘may’ have resulted in a breakdown of security, I wonder how Dave will spin that stuff he was saying just a few days ago about us being far more secure tucked-up safe and sound in arms of the EU than we would be on our own? That’s going to be a tad tricky Dave.
Other than that, the usual suspects are all over the news placing flowers, lighting candles, bowing heads, holding hands and singing sad old hippy songs somewhere in the city. Meanwhile, it’s a given that the bad boys, in many European cities, will be totally unfazed by these displays and meetings of ‘defiance, anger and outrage’ and will be plotting their next attack.
A Pan-European kick-off can’t be too far off now. Can it? What was that old song? Whoa! Here it is. As soon as this pub closes, the revolution starts.
Quote; Bertrand Russell.
“Our great democracies still tend to think that a stupid man is more likely to be honest than a clever man, and our politicians take advantage of this prejudice by pretending to be even more stupid than nature made them.”
Ghastly news from France.
The people at the top, with all their intelligence{?}, countless advisors and spooks, are all expressing total shock at what's happened while the people at the bottom, with only a little common sense to work with, are expressing total shock it's taken this long for yet another terrible event to occur.
Please read this of which the bit below is a snippet. The author locates several nails and whacks them jolly hard on their respective heads;
"Visiting the Bataclan, M Hollande declared that "nous allons mener le combat, il sera impitoyable": We are going to wage a war that will be pitiless.
Does he mean it? Or is he just killing time until Obama and Cameron and Merkel and Justin Trudeau and Malcolm Turnbull fly in and they can all get back to talking about sea levels in the Maldives in the 22nd century?"
It is, however, a chance for boy Cummerbund to call yet another Cobra get-together probably resulting in the setting up of a dedicated hotline for 'minority groups' to report all instances of 'racism' towards them by ol' whitey, the decision taken to hold a candle-lit vigil and to organise another linked-arm walk of solidarity on the streets of Paris. In other words, just another very quick pee round the periphery of the problem.
It's now being reported that one of the thugs passed through Greece in October as a 'refugee'. Prepare for shock, surprise and disbelief at this revelation from Europe's nutters leaders, in particular Angie the Mekon. Wouldn't it be sad if this 'refugee' could be tracked back to a bedwetting media photo of him staggering ashore in October, weeping with 'relief' and clutching a runny nosed child.
Quote; George Orwell.
“The object of terrorism is terrorism. The object of oppression is oppression. The object of torture is torture. The object of murder is murder. The object of power is power. Now do you begin to understand me?”
Scott Adams.
“Ask a deeply religious Christian if he’d rather live next to a bearded Muslim that may or may not be plotting a terror attack, or an atheist that may or may not show him how to set up a wireless network in his house. On the scale of prejudice, atheists don’t seem so bad lately.”
After firing up the coffee maker and the Net this morning I was saddened to be confronted with the news that Captain Ranty has passed away.
Although we occasionally communicated via the comments area of his site, I never met the good Captain and wouldn't have recognised him even if I'd found him in my soup but, nevertheless, he was always on my 'good friend' list; such are the wonders of the Web. A Web that'll be a little emptier with his passing.
May I offer my sincere condolences and sympathy to his family at this sad time.
All that remains is to raise a glass and say cheerio.
Quote; Sir Winston Churchill.
"I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter."
