As those of you from outside the UK may be aware, we are looking at a tanker driver strike here. This is not a strike over pay but one about health and safety of the drivers during, what can only be described as, their somewhat hazardous working day.
Unfortunately, some numpty politician here has sparked panic buying and, however many times he or his colleagues now talk to the media about him being wrong and there is no need for it, the damage has been done. You cannot now tell the driving public that, should the strike go ahead, there will be at least a weeks notice and that there are a number of military tanker drivers undergoing training in case they are called in to deliver fuel.
This morning, with less than 40 miles worth of diesel in the tank, I was forced in to visiting our local petrol station to enable me to continue going to work (a round trip of 130 miles a day). I was greeted at my first stop by queues onto the main road which prompted me to try another outlet. At the second there were still queues but these were by no means as bad. Whilst sitting and waiting for my turn, I noticed that, along with the obvious repmobiles and works vans, 50% of the vehicles lining up were pensioners. I also noted that, as they got to there allotted pump, nearly all these pensioners were also filling up the plastic petrol cans used for storage. Why is it that, these people who have all day to do things and, let's face it, very little distance to travel, feel the need to potentially bring this country to a standstill. They would be the first to complain that the buses were not running or that there was no food on supermarket shelves and yet, it is these very same, frankly selfish, people who will cause it with their 'wartime' mentality. Their cars have probably not used a whole tank of fuel since Christmas so why do they need it now? Is it so they can put their cars and petrol cans in their garage, lock the garage doors and then sit smugly in their homes knowing that at least they will be able to drive anywhere they like should the need arise - even if it is just to the local bingo hall.
On a purely selfish note, it might also stop me going to Brands Hatch on Sunday......but that's not the point!!
That brings my rant to an end for now but, as you can probably tell, it did make my blood boil. Now, I have to calm down and breathe :)
Keep loving
Thursday 29 March 2012
Wednesday 28 March 2012
Tin Top Time
Those of you that know me will be aware that, since a very young age, I have been obsessed with Formula 1. I have followed through the dark times when death was a frequent event, I have followed it through the wacky times as teams tried ever more outlandish ideas to get ahead (6 wheels, fans at the rear etc.), I have followed it even during the recent drab, processional years and into the current resurgent period.
Those that know me will also be aware that my wife cannot stand it and refers to the sport as 'wheem, wheems' as this is the sound that she hears on the TV from whichever room she has retreated to during the Grand Prix!
Well, this Sunday, I will be betraying my open wheeled mistress and attending round 1 of the British Touring Car Championship at Brands Hatch. I had sort of followed the series for a number of years, most closely in the late 80's and early 90's but had never been all that serious about the series. That changed last year when my wife (much to her chagrin) won 2 tickets to the same event in 2011. The tickets arrived on the Saturday with the main event taking place the very next day. I managed to get someone to go with me at the last minute, the weather was kind and we had a fantastic day. Three BTCC races, 2 Ginetta Juniors (kids up to 13 years of age racing in sports cars), 2 Ginetta Cup races, 1 Porsche Super Cup race, C2 Clio Cup races and a formula Renault open wheeled race. The crowd were friendly, you could leave your seat without fear of loss and, had I paid as I have done this year, all for £25 (plus fuel).
So, I shall be packing my rucksack with sandwiches and warm clothes in preparation for a reasonably cheap day out where I can get a live fix of petrol headed fun and, with the way the Touring car drivers race, plenty of paint swapping - I shall be in heaven :)
Keep loving.
Those that know me will also be aware that my wife cannot stand it and refers to the sport as 'wheem, wheems' as this is the sound that she hears on the TV from whichever room she has retreated to during the Grand Prix!
Well, this Sunday, I will be betraying my open wheeled mistress and attending round 1 of the British Touring Car Championship at Brands Hatch. I had sort of followed the series for a number of years, most closely in the late 80's and early 90's but had never been all that serious about the series. That changed last year when my wife (much to her chagrin) won 2 tickets to the same event in 2011. The tickets arrived on the Saturday with the main event taking place the very next day. I managed to get someone to go with me at the last minute, the weather was kind and we had a fantastic day. Three BTCC races, 2 Ginetta Juniors (kids up to 13 years of age racing in sports cars), 2 Ginetta Cup races, 1 Porsche Super Cup race, C2 Clio Cup races and a formula Renault open wheeled race. The crowd were friendly, you could leave your seat without fear of loss and, had I paid as I have done this year, all for £25 (plus fuel).
So, I shall be packing my rucksack with sandwiches and warm clothes in preparation for a reasonably cheap day out where I can get a live fix of petrol headed fun and, with the way the Touring car drivers race, plenty of paint swapping - I shall be in heaven :)
Keep loving.
Thursday 22 March 2012
Going Bald
This morning, as I looked in the bathroom mirror, I spotted a bald patch!! Not, thankfully, upon my head but on my chin.
After I shaved, I noticed an area on my chin that looked vaguely pink. I though I had probably irritated the skin slightly but no! There is a small, round area, about the size of a pound coin, where there is no stubble. It wasn't there yesterday and I can't remember having seen it happen before.
I have never been that hairy (except my hair is very thick) with my arms hardly showing the growth and it takes me three days to get a 5 o-clock shadow but now, it seems, my chin is trying to give up on all Maybe it will spread (that will save me time in the mornings) and maybe it will go away but, I hope it makes up its mind pretty soon. I don't want a pink circle on my chin any longer than I have to!
Keep loving
After I shaved, I noticed an area on my chin that looked vaguely pink. I though I had probably irritated the skin slightly but no! There is a small, round area, about the size of a pound coin, where there is no stubble. It wasn't there yesterday and I can't remember having seen it happen before.
I have never been that hairy (except my hair is very thick) with my arms hardly showing the growth and it takes me three days to get a 5 o-clock shadow but now, it seems, my chin is trying to give up on all Maybe it will spread (that will save me time in the mornings) and maybe it will go away but, I hope it makes up its mind pretty soon. I don't want a pink circle on my chin any longer than I have to!
Keep loving
Wednesday 21 March 2012
The Rumour Mill
Today, a senior member of the management team left the company by the euphemistically titled 'mutual consent'. I won't go into the whys and wherefore's here as that is not what this blog is about. I would just wish him well in whatever he does.
What this post is about though, is the consequence of this upheaval. For some time, the company has been considering re-arranging the office to make the departmental arrangements more sensible. However, today, with enforced managerial changes taken place, the rumour mill has gone into overdrive! I have been approached by four different people, each telling me (in hushed and conspiratorial tones) the definitive new arrangements and that they are absolutely certain that these will happen. Unfortunately, all four have differed in some way and, if they are all to be believed, I will soon have four desks - one of which is on a different floor and one in a completely different building!
I shall now just sit back and await the next list of rearrangements and see if I can get a fifth position.
Keep loving!
What this post is about though, is the consequence of this upheaval. For some time, the company has been considering re-arranging the office to make the departmental arrangements more sensible. However, today, with enforced managerial changes taken place, the rumour mill has gone into overdrive! I have been approached by four different people, each telling me (in hushed and conspiratorial tones) the definitive new arrangements and that they are absolutely certain that these will happen. Unfortunately, all four have differed in some way and, if they are all to be believed, I will soon have four desks - one of which is on a different floor and one in a completely different building!
I shall now just sit back and await the next list of rearrangements and see if I can get a fifth position.
Keep loving!
Friday 16 March 2012
Life's Little Dramas Part 23
Yesterday, I returned to the docs to hear the results of my shoulder x-rays (see earlier posts). The good news is that it definitely isn't - to use an expression we have in our house - 'a touch of the Aurthurs' or, to use more common language, arthritis. I am obviously much relieved but she couldn't tell me what the problem actually is. It might be something like a frozen shoulder (in both) or something else. In the meantime, I have some exercises - I had to look that up in a dictionary :) - and will be referred to a physiotherapist. If the physio doesn't work, I will have to have injections into the shoulder! I have never been good with injections and, when I had to have one in my heel a couple of years ago, I was lying on my front cringing and the doctor (not my usual one) said 'Don't worry, the anticipation of the pain is always worse than the actual pain' - he lied! The actual pain was far worse and, when I said words to that effect, he just replied that 'That's how we know we have hit the right spot'! Not only was he lying, he was deliberately misleading me!! So, forgive me if I am hoping that physio does the trick :)
Much relief though as I was concerned that, if arthritis was setting in now, I would have a long time to put up with it!
On a completely different subject, how many tradesmen does it take to fix a boiler? It sounds like the beginning of a particularly bad joke - and it very nearly turned into one. Two days ago, I was making my first coffee of the day prior to getting ready for work when I heard a dripping. Thinking that I hadn't turned the tap off, I checked the sink but there was no water in there and the tap was definitely not dripping. However, I could hear the noise much clearer and reached over to the cupboard above the sink that houses the boiler. Opening the door, I was met with the sight of water gently falling from the base of the unit.
I sorted a system of kitchen towels to wick the water into a bucket and decided I would need to contact the installers once I was at work. Then I went to the thermostat and turned it up to get a bit of warmth into the house, Grabbed my coffee and breakfast and sat down in the lounge to munch my cereal. After I had returned my dirty cup and bowl to the kitchen, I went to go upstairs and happened to brush the radiator - which was cold. I went back to the boiler and found it flashing an error message.
I followed the instructions, reset it and went upstairs to have my shower (not linked to the hot water system). When I came out, it was still quite chilly in the bedroom so, with some trepidation, I went back down to the boiler and, once again, it was flashing an error.
Once at work, I rang the installers and they could only visit the next day 'between 8am and 1pm' so I took the day off. At 9.30am, the van arrived and two chaps rocked into the kitchen. They stopped the leak, cleaned a few bits, ran the hot tap and pronounced the unit fixed. I saw the steam from the exhaust outside and agreed. I paid the call out fee and they went on their way. Then, to take the edge off the cold house, I turned up the thermostat and waited for the boiler to kick in - It didn't! I was straight back on the phone and, 30 minutes later, they were back. This time, they took more parts out tinkered about until they found what turned out to be the main problem - the electrode that created the spark was broken. Sharp sucking or air through teeth followed and they informed me that 'no-one keeps those in stock, you will have to get them ordered'. Their parting shot was to suggest contacting the manufacturer direct. I did this and, after answering a number of questions, the very helpful young lady asked if we had insurance. It occurred to me that we had amended our policy only last year to include this type of thing - in the words of Homer Simpson, D'oh!!
Next call was to our insurers. Apparently, Thursday is a busy day in home insurance claims as I was on hold for 22 minutes!
Once I got a real person, they went through the usual questions including was I permitted to discuss the policy with them as it was in my wife's name! It only took them asking her and her reply to allow me to do it so I can't see how that was security. But that is not the point. They agreed that they could get one of their approved engineers out that afternoon (just as well I didn't take only a half day off) and he would be with me before 4pm. I had the feeling that all that would happen would be a local tradesman would come out, look at the boiler, come to the same conclusion and go away muttering about how long it would take to order the part.
Happily I was wrong! The chap turned up in a van painted with the logo of the boiler manufacturer, had a quick look at the work that had been done on the leak and pronounced it a good job, asked what his fellow tradesmen had suggested was the problem, nodded, trotted off to his van and came back with a new part. It took him 10 minutes to fit, he tested the system and then left.
How I wish I had just contacted the insurers first! You live and learn I suppose. At least, at the end of the day, we had hot water and heat - and we could use the washing machine!
Phew! That was a long post to say very little. I think I needed to get it off my chest. Back to work now.
Keep loving
Much relief though as I was concerned that, if arthritis was setting in now, I would have a long time to put up with it!
On a completely different subject, how many tradesmen does it take to fix a boiler? It sounds like the beginning of a particularly bad joke - and it very nearly turned into one. Two days ago, I was making my first coffee of the day prior to getting ready for work when I heard a dripping. Thinking that I hadn't turned the tap off, I checked the sink but there was no water in there and the tap was definitely not dripping. However, I could hear the noise much clearer and reached over to the cupboard above the sink that houses the boiler. Opening the door, I was met with the sight of water gently falling from the base of the unit.
I sorted a system of kitchen towels to wick the water into a bucket and decided I would need to contact the installers once I was at work. Then I went to the thermostat and turned it up to get a bit of warmth into the house, Grabbed my coffee and breakfast and sat down in the lounge to munch my cereal. After I had returned my dirty cup and bowl to the kitchen, I went to go upstairs and happened to brush the radiator - which was cold. I went back to the boiler and found it flashing an error message.
I followed the instructions, reset it and went upstairs to have my shower (not linked to the hot water system). When I came out, it was still quite chilly in the bedroom so, with some trepidation, I went back down to the boiler and, once again, it was flashing an error.
Once at work, I rang the installers and they could only visit the next day 'between 8am and 1pm' so I took the day off. At 9.30am, the van arrived and two chaps rocked into the kitchen. They stopped the leak, cleaned a few bits, ran the hot tap and pronounced the unit fixed. I saw the steam from the exhaust outside and agreed. I paid the call out fee and they went on their way. Then, to take the edge off the cold house, I turned up the thermostat and waited for the boiler to kick in - It didn't! I was straight back on the phone and, 30 minutes later, they were back. This time, they took more parts out tinkered about until they found what turned out to be the main problem - the electrode that created the spark was broken. Sharp sucking or air through teeth followed and they informed me that 'no-one keeps those in stock, you will have to get them ordered'. Their parting shot was to suggest contacting the manufacturer direct. I did this and, after answering a number of questions, the very helpful young lady asked if we had insurance. It occurred to me that we had amended our policy only last year to include this type of thing - in the words of Homer Simpson, D'oh!!
Next call was to our insurers. Apparently, Thursday is a busy day in home insurance claims as I was on hold for 22 minutes!
Once I got a real person, they went through the usual questions including was I permitted to discuss the policy with them as it was in my wife's name! It only took them asking her and her reply to allow me to do it so I can't see how that was security. But that is not the point. They agreed that they could get one of their approved engineers out that afternoon (just as well I didn't take only a half day off) and he would be with me before 4pm. I had the feeling that all that would happen would be a local tradesman would come out, look at the boiler, come to the same conclusion and go away muttering about how long it would take to order the part.
Happily I was wrong! The chap turned up in a van painted with the logo of the boiler manufacturer, had a quick look at the work that had been done on the leak and pronounced it a good job, asked what his fellow tradesmen had suggested was the problem, nodded, trotted off to his van and came back with a new part. It took him 10 minutes to fit, he tested the system and then left.
How I wish I had just contacted the insurers first! You live and learn I suppose. At least, at the end of the day, we had hot water and heat - and we could use the washing machine!
Phew! That was a long post to say very little. I think I needed to get it off my chest. Back to work now.
Keep loving
Tuesday 13 March 2012
Life's Little Dramas Part 22
We have progress! After nearly three months of virtual house arrest, my wife ventured out with me at the weekend.
We took the dog for a walk at the local country park on Saturday. She lasted one circuit before having to go back to the car while I took the dog on a second turn but, as the first trip out, I think that was quite impressive. Even more impressive when she decided to come straight back out with me to do the weekly shop.
That evening, she did suffer but was also very pleased with herself. Then, on Sunday, she had her first proper foray into the kitchen and managed (with very minor assistance from me to get things off shelves) to cook up a batch of her rather scrummy homemade sausage rolls for me to take to work on Monday. Again, she did suffer in the evening but, after such a long period of inactivity, I think she should be very proud of herself.
One thing that has become clear to me through all that has happened is that you should never dismiss the small things in life. A trip out to walk the dog was just something that we did before. Now it is an event to be cherished as it could have been so very different. A batch of sausage rolls was simply a treat for Christmas and birthdays, now it is a success and a step forward.
Don't ever take things for granted. Simple things like this can be taken away from you so quickly so you must enjoy them. Celebrate life to the full. Whilst I don't advocate squandering money, remember that there are no pockets in a shroud.
Most of all though....
Keep loving
We took the dog for a walk at the local country park on Saturday. She lasted one circuit before having to go back to the car while I took the dog on a second turn but, as the first trip out, I think that was quite impressive. Even more impressive when she decided to come straight back out with me to do the weekly shop.
That evening, she did suffer but was also very pleased with herself. Then, on Sunday, she had her first proper foray into the kitchen and managed (with very minor assistance from me to get things off shelves) to cook up a batch of her rather scrummy homemade sausage rolls for me to take to work on Monday. Again, she did suffer in the evening but, after such a long period of inactivity, I think she should be very proud of herself.
One thing that has become clear to me through all that has happened is that you should never dismiss the small things in life. A trip out to walk the dog was just something that we did before. Now it is an event to be cherished as it could have been so very different. A batch of sausage rolls was simply a treat for Christmas and birthdays, now it is a success and a step forward.
Don't ever take things for granted. Simple things like this can be taken away from you so quickly so you must enjoy them. Celebrate life to the full. Whilst I don't advocate squandering money, remember that there are no pockets in a shroud.
Most of all though....
Keep loving
Friday 9 March 2012
An Evening with Mother
To date, I don't think that I have mentioned my mother in any of my posts so I shall now rectify that sin.
My mother is in her 80's and still regularly ferries a group of what she describes as 'old dears' to and from the shops. She is now cutting back on her night driving and, by her own admission, has now decided that driving at 80mph on dual carriageways is somewhat beyond her abilities!
We do not have a big family but still, we have never been so tight that we visited our parents every weekend and, even though I am just about the closest of her three children in mileage terms, I haven't spent as much time with her as, perhaps, I should have. Last Saturday, however, I spent more time with my mother than I had in the last twelve months (bad son, bad son!).
It started with the annual 'what do we get parents for birthdays / Christmas discussions. You see, both my mother and my father in law have birthdays in December and, when he was alive, my father was also a Sagittarius. So we did our usual trawl around our local factory outlet and came up short. However, my wife asked me if my mother liked Pam Ayers. Absolutely loves her was my reply. And so the plan was hatched. We booked two tickets for her live show at a nearby(ish) theatre and sent off the tickets. Unfortunately, although she was thrilled to get them, as mentioned before, she has given up driving at night so asked if I would accompany her.
I agreed and suggested that, to make a special night of it, I would take her out for something to eat beforehand as well. This was really so that I would have a partially enjoyable night - not because I didn't want to spend it with my mother but rather, I didn't really relish the thought of 2 hours of Pam Ayers.
After the minor hiccough of everywhere you could book that was withing walking (shuffling) distance for my mum being fully booked, I managed to ascertain that there was a high probability of getting into a restaurant that was close by taking a table in their 'coffee bar'. This we duly did and enjoyed a very tasty and filling seaside meal.
Now there was no putting it off any longer. With the time it would take us to walk to the theatre, we had to make a move so, with the air of a condemned man, I helped her on with her coat and we started on our way. At the theatre, we discovered that we were in the third row just to the right hand side so had a marvellous view. I settled into my seat and found that I had to sit with my legs in the aisle as the legroom was so minimal. Feeling more and more gloomy, I settled down for two hours of pain.
Two and a bit hours later, we emerged into the chill North Sea coastal evening with damp eyes and aching cheeks from laughing so much. Mother was gushing about how wonderful it had been and must have thanked me for the food and show so many times, I lost count.
They always say, never judge a book by its cover, well neither should you assume that you are going to hate an entertainer until you have heard their up to date work. She was witty, ever so slightly risque and not afraid to ridicule herself. On top of that, I had such an enjoyable night out with my mother that, heaven forbid, I might just suggest something like that to her again!
Keep loving
My mother is in her 80's and still regularly ferries a group of what she describes as 'old dears' to and from the shops. She is now cutting back on her night driving and, by her own admission, has now decided that driving at 80mph on dual carriageways is somewhat beyond her abilities!
We do not have a big family but still, we have never been so tight that we visited our parents every weekend and, even though I am just about the closest of her three children in mileage terms, I haven't spent as much time with her as, perhaps, I should have. Last Saturday, however, I spent more time with my mother than I had in the last twelve months (bad son, bad son!).
It started with the annual 'what do we get parents for birthdays / Christmas discussions. You see, both my mother and my father in law have birthdays in December and, when he was alive, my father was also a Sagittarius. So we did our usual trawl around our local factory outlet and came up short. However, my wife asked me if my mother liked Pam Ayers. Absolutely loves her was my reply. And so the plan was hatched. We booked two tickets for her live show at a nearby(ish) theatre and sent off the tickets. Unfortunately, although she was thrilled to get them, as mentioned before, she has given up driving at night so asked if I would accompany her.
I agreed and suggested that, to make a special night of it, I would take her out for something to eat beforehand as well. This was really so that I would have a partially enjoyable night - not because I didn't want to spend it with my mother but rather, I didn't really relish the thought of 2 hours of Pam Ayers.
After the minor hiccough of everywhere you could book that was withing walking (shuffling) distance for my mum being fully booked, I managed to ascertain that there was a high probability of getting into a restaurant that was close by taking a table in their 'coffee bar'. This we duly did and enjoyed a very tasty and filling seaside meal.
Now there was no putting it off any longer. With the time it would take us to walk to the theatre, we had to make a move so, with the air of a condemned man, I helped her on with her coat and we started on our way. At the theatre, we discovered that we were in the third row just to the right hand side so had a marvellous view. I settled into my seat and found that I had to sit with my legs in the aisle as the legroom was so minimal. Feeling more and more gloomy, I settled down for two hours of pain.
Two and a bit hours later, we emerged into the chill North Sea coastal evening with damp eyes and aching cheeks from laughing so much. Mother was gushing about how wonderful it had been and must have thanked me for the food and show so many times, I lost count.
They always say, never judge a book by its cover, well neither should you assume that you are going to hate an entertainer until you have heard their up to date work. She was witty, ever so slightly risque and not afraid to ridicule herself. On top of that, I had such an enjoyable night out with my mother that, heaven forbid, I might just suggest something like that to her again!
Keep loving
Wednesday 7 March 2012
A Curious Feeling
Tomorrow is my birthday. Before you all respond in your thousands with birthday wishes, I would like to say that I am not sure I want to be celebrating.
A curious feeling has come over me as I approach what will be the 45th anniversary of my birth. For (as far as I can remember) every prior birthday, I have looked forward to it with very nearly the same excitment as I did as soon as I was old enough to understand what it was about. Sometimes I have been disappoined, sometimes overwhelmed and others have just been another day but I have still felt that tingling anticipation associated with what may drop through the letterbox or what gourmet delight I may consume either on the day or at the most convenient weekend after.
This year, however, I find myself dreading it. I am not 100% sure why this may be. After all, those of you that have read my musings will know that we have come through a worrying time and things are looking up. I have my health (although I know thta I have to get fitter). I have no money worries and I have a job that I love. But still, there is a deep gloom that seems to envelop me whenever I think of the 'big day'.
The only thing that I can think of to explain my malais is a sudden (and I do mean sudden) realisation of my own mortality. In my head, I am still in my twenties. I have a games console that I could not afford when I was that young and still play on it when I can. I like purile humour and comedy programs. I love Blackadder. The trouble is, when I look in the mirror (or more importantly, when I see photos of me) I see a middle aged, overweight, greying old git looking back. I have more hair than many of my peers and have far less grey than many but I am still not the same on the outside as I am on the inside. I am supposed to act the age that I feel inside but the body is no longer willing.
The stupidest part of this is, it is highly likely that, once the day is over, the cards opened, then the drink is consumed over the weekend, I will feel absolutely fine again until this time next year. At least, that is what I am hoping. Either that or I am turning into just the type of miserable git that I have always hated! The irony is not lost on me.
Keep loving
A curious feeling has come over me as I approach what will be the 45th anniversary of my birth. For (as far as I can remember) every prior birthday, I have looked forward to it with very nearly the same excitment as I did as soon as I was old enough to understand what it was about. Sometimes I have been disappoined, sometimes overwhelmed and others have just been another day but I have still felt that tingling anticipation associated with what may drop through the letterbox or what gourmet delight I may consume either on the day or at the most convenient weekend after.
This year, however, I find myself dreading it. I am not 100% sure why this may be. After all, those of you that have read my musings will know that we have come through a worrying time and things are looking up. I have my health (although I know thta I have to get fitter). I have no money worries and I have a job that I love. But still, there is a deep gloom that seems to envelop me whenever I think of the 'big day'.
The only thing that I can think of to explain my malais is a sudden (and I do mean sudden) realisation of my own mortality. In my head, I am still in my twenties. I have a games console that I could not afford when I was that young and still play on it when I can. I like purile humour and comedy programs. I love Blackadder. The trouble is, when I look in the mirror (or more importantly, when I see photos of me) I see a middle aged, overweight, greying old git looking back. I have more hair than many of my peers and have far less grey than many but I am still not the same on the outside as I am on the inside. I am supposed to act the age that I feel inside but the body is no longer willing.
The stupidest part of this is, it is highly likely that, once the day is over, the cards opened, then the drink is consumed over the weekend, I will feel absolutely fine again until this time next year. At least, that is what I am hoping. Either that or I am turning into just the type of miserable git that I have always hated! The irony is not lost on me.
Keep loving
Friday 2 March 2012
Eurovision
I think it is fair to say that I am not a devotee of the Eurovision Song Contest but, I do dip my toe in whilst it is on to see how the UK is doing. After all, you never like to see your home team do badly whether you follow them or not. But this year, I am torn as to whether I should watch it for the comedy factor or boycott it completely as I have just heard who the UK entry will be:
Englebert Humperdinck!!
A 75 year old crooner!!
Apparently Paul Gamberchini has stated that it is a stroke of genius to bring on a 'geezer' (his words not mine) who could pull in the youth vote for his rendition of The Lesbian Seagull in Beavis & Butthead - The Movie.
PG is not even English! What right has he to say what is good for the UK in Eurovision - even his native land has no involvement and are probably totally mystified as to why we would even think of joining in this travesty.
I'm sure that the fabled Eurovision Parties will still continue and there will be much flag waving in the green room while the votes are cast. The one thing I would pay to see would be the confused look on Englebert's face as all the screaming carries on from the 'younger' entries.
Oh well,
Keep Loving
Englebert Humperdinck!!
A 75 year old crooner!!
Apparently Paul Gamberchini has stated that it is a stroke of genius to bring on a 'geezer' (his words not mine) who could pull in the youth vote for his rendition of The Lesbian Seagull in Beavis & Butthead - The Movie.
PG is not even English! What right has he to say what is good for the UK in Eurovision - even his native land has no involvement and are probably totally mystified as to why we would even think of joining in this travesty.
I'm sure that the fabled Eurovision Parties will still continue and there will be much flag waving in the green room while the votes are cast. The one thing I would pay to see would be the confused look on Englebert's face as all the screaming carries on from the 'younger' entries.
Oh well,
Keep Loving
Thursday 1 March 2012
Leap Year?!
If you have read posts on my blog other than the 'Life's Little Dramas' series, you will know that I am prone to odd thoughts or flights of fancy. This entry falls into that category.
I am confused by the term Leap Year on a couple of levels. Firstly - and this will probably be very easy to look up - why is it called a Leap Year? What are we leaping??
Secondly, and in my opinion rather more confusingly, I have heard reference to Leap Years, Leap Days and Leap Seconds. The last two of these refer to additional units of time added to 'balance' our calendars i.e. the 29th Feb is a Leap Day that is added every 4 days (except when the Leap Year is on a century year (1900/2000 etc.) and a Leap Second is added to the end of the year at certain intervals. This then begs the question, why isn't a Leap Year, a year that is added? Like a 2011a? That would mean we would have an extra 2011 and next year would be 2012. Imagine what fun we would have if we had Leap Decades :)
Oh well, back to some semblance of sanity now I have got that off my chest!
Keep loving.
I am confused by the term Leap Year on a couple of levels. Firstly - and this will probably be very easy to look up - why is it called a Leap Year? What are we leaping??
Secondly, and in my opinion rather more confusingly, I have heard reference to Leap Years, Leap Days and Leap Seconds. The last two of these refer to additional units of time added to 'balance' our calendars i.e. the 29th Feb is a Leap Day that is added every 4 days (except when the Leap Year is on a century year (1900/2000 etc.) and a Leap Second is added to the end of the year at certain intervals. This then begs the question, why isn't a Leap Year, a year that is added? Like a 2011a? That would mean we would have an extra 2011 and next year would be 2012. Imagine what fun we would have if we had Leap Decades :)
Oh well, back to some semblance of sanity now I have got that off my chest!
Keep loving.
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