January Jaunt

Tomorrow morning, whilst it's still dark, I'm heading for St Pancras and the Eurostar to Brussels, then onwards to Bruges for three days of revelry.

Chocolate and Stella Artois will probably high on the list of purchases!

Enjoy whatever you do to herald in 2009.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

but really, you should be doing more exciting things than visiting here.

Marketing - Men & Women

At present, Marj has a new morning routine.

Get up - brush hair - put "hair putty"? into hair to give it that "just got up" look.

Mine.

Get up - Don't brush hair.

We both achieve the same result but I don't spend copious amounts of money on product.

Of course, if it came with buttons to press and flashing lights I probably would.

Open All Hours

Saw a great leaflet for a Take-away food place today.

Open 8pm till 4am, 24/7!

Nope, that would be 8/7 but top marks for trying.

Watching the Detectives.

I may have mantioned before that I'm somewhat in agreement with Jeremy Clarkson that if you have been burgled, the police can't get you for any motoring offences until they've solved your crime first. If only!

Certainly in London, and I suspect most other places in the UK, if you get burgled you can forget any idea of the perputrators being caught. Last time we were burgled they took Marjs' car. After 6 months the police had failed to find it, despite the fact it was sat on a public road unmoving since the day it was taken. It was eventually discovered by The DVLA 48 hours after the tax ran out which explains a great deal about the art of "detection" around here these days.

Once upon a time the glamorous "copper" was The Detective. He would be faced with a crime and would gnaw away at the details until, using little more that his "Coppers Nose" and the odd hunch, he would track down and arrest the guilty party. Now, I suspect, little real Detection goes on. I still can't go into details about a case we're involved with as it is still sub-judice, but I can tell you that at the original incident, Police failed to find any witnesses whereas we were able to give them 6 seperate names and adresses within 48 hours by going out and asking a few questions. I wonder how Sherlock Holmes would have operated these days......

WATSON: So Holmes, what crime did you solve today.

HOLMES: Ah, My dear Watson, I like to think of it as The Sound of The Baskervilles.

WATSON: Why, what do you mean?

HOLMES: I was walking along to my local opium den when I spotted a road with, and be prepared for a terrible shock Watson, no speed camera for almost 400 yeards!

(Watson screams, and lies down upon the chaise longue with an attack of the vapours.)

HOLMES: Almost immediately I recognised the engine sound of a 1996 Ford Orion with the note pitched perfectly on D#. As you may well know, at 30 mph the engine should have been no higher than C#! I immediately threw myself in front of the car which, upon it's finally stopping some 15 feet after it had run me over, I bound to the drivers door and arrested it's owner, a Mr J Baskerville, for driving at 34mph in a 30 mph zone. I hied both myself and the miscreant straight to Scotland Yard and thus another dangerous criminal has been dealt the severe punishment of 3 points on his licence and a £50 fine. Indeed Watson, fetch me my Stradivarius violin and I shall re-enact the very notation that caused me to apprehend the aformentioned felon.

WATSON: I'm sorry Holmes, during your abscence you were burgled.

HOLMES: Oh, Bugger!

Flu-ness

I have been laid up with flu. Quite useful though as I've discovered that flu stops you worrying about other stuff as your body puts all it's energy into coughing and sweating.

Not sure how I got it though. I know of nobody else who has it or shown symptoms. In fact, the only contact with flu I have had is by listening to The Archers every day. I think I've caught flu via the airwaves.

Ivor the Engine runs out of steam.

Sad news. The death of Oliver Postgate

As a child, Ivor the Engine was a favourite programme, along with Gerry Andersons Supercar. As an adult I finally got into The Clangers. I found the spoken bit at the beginning of ech episode, musing on life on other planets rather moving.

Nocturnal Greetings

I greet you, dear reader, at ten to one in the morning.

It's not that I can't sleep, I wish I was in bed this very minute, but I'm about to take a trip. To Heathrow.

Now, if this was half as good a blog as I wish it was, I would then be boarding a plane to climb to the top of Machu Pichu or whatever it's called. Instead I am going to Heathrow to pick up my dad and step-mum as they return from Cyprus where they have been enjoying temperatures between 22 and 32 degrees over the last three weeks. I think they may find the UK a little chilly at the moment!

Their plane was due 8:45 this last evening but has been getting steadily later until it's ETA is now 01:36. By the time they've trundled through customs/passport control/sheep dip, then dropped me back home, I'll not see my bed much before 3am. Better than them though as they are driving straight from here to Norfolk, so it'll be breakfast time when they reach home.

I always start my day with a reading of those blogs I cannot live without, but there'll be no need for you to rush to post tomorrow, I don't suppose I'll be reading much before mid-day.

Let the Show Begin

Well, thst's all the rehearsing done. 5 performances over the next 4 days. Methinks I'm going to be pretty knackered by Sunday.

Just a few things to do:

Try and learn the words to Act 2
Apply make-up in a way that doesn't make me look like Julian Clary
Kepp tights pulled up so I don't look like Nora Batty

Ah, the smell of the crowd, the roar of the greasepaint!

Remembrance

Come this day annually I tend to remember my maternal grandfather who was wounded on The Somme and lived till 1965 with a metal plate in his head following a shrapnel wound and breathing difficulties after a mustard gas attack.

A relative I tend to overlook is my Great Uncle Sam on my fathers side, who didn't make it.

Thanks to The Commonwealth War Graves Commission he, and many thousand others, are resting and remembered.

And for those who don't normally read Diamond Geezer, todays post is particularly fine.

Incredibly busy painting Gondoliers poles. No, I haven't moved to Venice, it's because next week I'm performing this and I've roped myself into providing props!

Anastacia est mort

It is with regret I announce the passing of Anastacia, spinster hamster of this parish. She died yesterday in the night, which of course is our day, of unknown causes.

She is today lying in state at the family home where a short burial and commemmoration service will take place some time around 6 this evening.

The family have requested no sunflower seeds.

Blackpool Beware

Come Friday it's the annual trip to Blackpool!

I would say, "Lock Up Your Daughters", but at my age it's more, lock up your mothers, or if you're a particularly young blogger, your Grandmothers!

Better Than You

One of the things that irritates me, (OMG, not another! I hear you cry!!) is people who park where they shouldn't. But even more specifically than parking in disabled spaces or on double yellow lines.

My real bugbear is at our local Tescos. At the end of each row of parking lanes is a hatched area. This helps people move from row to row without having to be in the roadway. Nearly every day there is someone parked in one of them. And it's nearly always a Merc driver. It doesn't have to be a busy day, there are usually plenty of spaces within two rows or so, but they seem unable to use the same spaces the rest of us park in with consumate ease.

Yesterday however, they excelled themselves. Five of the hatched boxes were occupied. Two by Mercs, two by BMWs and one by a land rover. Strange that, all five cars are "upmarket". They obviously feel the need to prove they are above other mere drivers in common cars by parking in "special" spaces. Or of course, all the disabled spaces may have ben full which is where they normally head to first!

I've heard the excuse about needing more door room for getting out but most of the time you are only 5 rows from the main entrance and there are no other cars there, so even if you do think that is an excuse, it gets shot to pieces. It's just rudeness.

Cat's In The Cradle

I hear via my stepmum that her and my father are taking a trip to Cyprus, as they do each year, but this is likely to be the last. His health is deteriorating at a reasonable pace and flights and manoverability are beginning to be a problem.

This leads me on to having to think about the los of my father, not imminently, but in a forseeable future. The loss of my mother, when it should happen, will be devastating to me. I find it hard even to contemplate such an event. But as I am sure I have blogged previously, my father and I aren't particularly close. A situation and relationship best summed up in the lyrics of Harry Chapin's song referred to in the title of this post, although I suspect that it is unfair on my father.

I can't see how I will react. I'll be sad, but then I was sad when one of my oldest friends father died. I just can't see me feeling worsed than that. I guess I'll have to wait and see.

C'Mon Lewis

Well, despite the sledging by his opponents, Lewis Hamilton got his 10 points for this race. Good on him. Ferrari are no doubt going to do their Man Utd act and claim how there were a number of incidents which hapened, all of which went against them. And Massa managed a wonderful second place when his team mate managed to slow down enought for him to finally catch up and overtake. And I thought team orders had been outlawed.

Lewis just has to make sure he gets pole position as I suspect if he isn't in front there will be manouvers to block him in, or even worse, someone will contrive to have a bump with him just to take him out.

Not that I'm cynical of course.

Dismissal Downside

One of the worst bit's of running your own company is having to sack people, although in my case it's more just not using someone again as they are legally a sub-contractor.

I have someone who I have used a few times, is damned good at what he does, but unfortunately it would appear has light fingers.

A laptop went missing from a job he was working on. He was sort of in the frame but so were too many other people. Now news reaches me that would boost him up to 95% certain to have done it. He won't admit it of course, as he's not admitted to some other stuff on another job being down to him, which it was, bang to rights. I really don't want it to be him as I want to help him get established in his own right as he hasn't had the easiest life up until now, but he has to help himself. And not just to other peoples goods!

It's sad, and I'll have to discuss it with Marj as she is co-director, but I think the writings on the wall for him.

And as this is my blog and thus everything has to be about me, I now have to find someone else who can do the work I had lined up for him and that isn't going to be easy.

When is a meeting not a meeting?

I was in Sainsburys this morning when there was a staff announcement....

Could all department managers go to,,,,,, for this mornings huddle.

A morning huddle?

I assume this is a meeting where everyone stands round and just gets told the orders of the day. Fair enough. But letting your customers know you are having " a huddle" just makes you sound like a bunch of idiots.

Of course, it could be worse, I might have misheard and they were all off for their morning cuddle!!!!

New Technology - Ancient User

I have a Tom Tom. A navigation system rather than a small drum. And damned useful it has been over the year I've been using it. So to celebrate it's first birthday, in addition to the speed safety camera package I've also taken the traffic package.

I have a bluetooth phone, and it can find the tom tom when it trawls the ether looking for something. All I have to do is to enter the correct code. But which code? The tomtom device code doesn't seem to do the trick whatever form I enter it in, so is it a differnt code, like a pin number, that came with it. Or is it some code that my phone came with that needs to be entered although that wasn't the case with my handsfree earpiece.

The answer is probably quite straightforward but I seem to be in a position where I start ringing the helplines at £4000 per second or whatever they cost, and probably with someone on the other end who doesn't speak english that well.

I might fiddle with it a bit more first. I hate ringing helplines.

Great Myths of my Childhood

1) That the bump in the tarmac over the bolts that held down a bench in our school playground were in fact an earthquake.

2) The handles on the front of steam locomotives that held the door shut were in fact the hands of a clock.

3) Ladies got pregnant by drinking wee.

4) Robert Wiles mum was 116 years old.

I was only about 6-7 at the time though!

View to a Killing

I've done a few market research interviews over the last few years for which you get paid a little and have been signed up to a new agency. This thursday I'm doing an hour interview for which I get paid £40.00.

Now, if only I could get 5 of those a day for a whole year I'd be quite happy!

Celebrity Cancer.

News came out over the wekend that Wendy Richards has cancer. Not a big fan but sorry to hear that, it's been a battle for a time for her over the last few years. I don't know whether it became public knowledge because she brought it up in an interview or through answering a question from the press. Hopefully, there'll be little else about it and she can get on with her plans in private and with some dignity.

And it is that final bit that has got my goat over Jade Goody and her brush with cervical cancer recently. To be fair, I have only seen odd headlines on the front of the magazines which litter the racks of Tesco and Sainsburys but she apparently has been so close to death on an ever increasing number of occasions that it is a miracle she has had the time, the inclination or the health to do interviews. Now I gather she is faced with her Chemo which she can hardly deal with the thought of.

Yes Jade, you and all the other people in the country who have had, and presently have, cancer. Yet they manage to cope with what dignity they can in situations which I suspect are many times worse than yours. I may be being incredibly uncharitable but I suspect the pain of her illness was somewhat lessened by the anaesthetic of yet more column inches in the media.

Housework

I've had real trouble with internet connections recently, both with the landline and mobile connections, however, I'm back.

At least it's made me do a little bit of tidying up of the links to the right. Delete a few, update a few, etc.

Obviously nothing too exciting you understand.

The Big Bang

Am I the only one who really wishes he'd been at CERN this week and when they turned on the Collider blown up a crisp packet and burst it behind everyones back?

Going to Big School

Lord, I feel old.

40 years ago today I started at Ealing Grammar School as a fresh faced 11 year old.

Things I didn't know then but would begin over the next few years......

I sat next to boy called Walter John Loosley. Although he is now known by his middle name he has remained one of my closest friends to this day.

I joined the school choir which led to me joining the church choir and developing a love of classical music. Although I didn't sing for the best part of 30 years it was this start that has lead me to being in West London Opera, amongst other groups, today.

Although I never really tried it, the school introduced me to rowing. In 1980, two of my classmates, Ian McNuff and John Beattie rowed at the Olympics in Moscow and came back with a Bronze medal. Also in the boat was Martin Cross who did the commentary on Radio 5 last month. Oh, and my history master was David Tanner, present Head of English Rowing. That's why, when the Olympics were on recently, I watch the rowing with most interest.

The other thing I managed to do was fail 8 of my 9 O'levels. I relied on my natural ability and didn't put in the effort. A trait that reappears in my life with all too frequent regularity.

Harder than you think!

I'm getting fed up of people saying that Michael Phelps 8 gold medals are easily obtained because he has so many races that he is capable of entering.

Admittedly, most of those saying probably don't swim at all otherwise they might get an idea of just how difficult competing in four different strokes at any level actually is.

The argument that he has four strokes and four different distances he could cover doesn't seem to work for athletes yet to me it should be even easier for them. After all they only have to run. Now, if they had to do some of them backwards, or others on just one leg then I might take some notice. And why don't decathletes compete in the ten individual sports as well as the collective. Because of course, they are good at all of them but not "world class" at any of them. That's not to decry them as I do believe that is the hardest of all gold medals to get.

So, anyone who thinks what he did was easy, I have a challenge. If you don't normally swim butterfly, just have a go. Just one length, that's all. Then assuming you haven't managed to drown yourself by getting the breathing horribly wrong I am up for the following;

I swam at schoolboy level 35 years ago, and then, only 50m breaststroke. I haven't swum more than a length in three years. I will take you on at the eight races he won gold at and see if you can beat me at any of them, but we have to do them all.

There won't be any gold medals though!

Lame Excuse

Not that it's any excuse for the lack of posts but I have an injured foot. I don't know how I did it. Went to bed on Sunday night right as rain, woke up Monday morning and couldn't put any weight on it. It's not getting better but still doing the manful thing and ignoring it in the hope it will miraculously cure itself. I may give in and go to casualty tomorrow if it is stil really bad.

For better or worse...

New technology is supposed to bring benefits. I can think of two areas where it appears to have made it worse.

One is the world of banking, where it now takes one day longer to pay money into your account than it did 30 years ago, although to be fair, that is more to do with banks wanting the extra day's interest even though technology would allow instant transfers should they wish.

The second is weather forecasting. Last sunday, BBC 5 day forecast for London was

Light Showers
Rain
Light Showers
Sun
Sun

By Monday night it was rain for all five days.

What have we had so far?

Monday, Sun with an interesting electrical storm in the evening with a bit of rain to follow.
Tuesday, Sun.
Wednesday, Sun.

Well, the billions that have been spent on the weather satellites have been worth every penny then. It would probably be more accurate just to hang some seaweed outside the door. Unless of course, that is how they do it?

Hells Kitchen

We are working on a kitchen refurb at the moment. We allowed two weeks and we are now in week four. The client doesn't mind and the kitchen does look good, but I won't half be glad to get it finished!

Time Travel

Listening to the news yesterday I understand that Gordon Brown was at a facility that takes young men on the edge of crime and teaches them a trade. In the past he has also talked about fast-tracking the brighter pupils at school.

I have a suggestion.

At 11 we could divide the kids up into those who are academic achievers and send them to, say, a grammar school. Those who show talents in other directions could go to a new type of secondary school, called perhaps, a secondary modern. Come 16 those in the secondary moderns who were lagging academically, or anyone else who wanted to, could go to technical colleges where they would be taught a trade. I reckon that would fulfill his bright new future vision.

Oh yes, that's what we had up till the 70s when the Labour government decided to destroy it in favour of Comprehensive education. The great idea where if you mix academic children with those of other abilities everyone will improve to the highest level. Just like if you go training at Chelsea's training ground you too will play in the Premiership!

How to work for nothing.

My mate has been off work for 7 years on incapacity benefit etc. He has decided it is time to go back to work, albeit part time. "The Powers That Be" have been very good at trying to find him something suitable and have given training in areas where he wanted it.

Another section of TPTB have informed him that all the money he earns will be deducted from his benefits and also his rent and council tax allowances will have to be reviewed.

So exctly where is the incentive to return to work when you can end up with no financial gain if not financially worse off?

He doesn't expect them to pay him his full benefit plus keep his wage, but if they deducted 50% until earnings hit parity with benefits it would at least offer some encouragement. If he is financially worse off he will jack in the job even if it does mean his self-esteem will take a knock.

I see no ships

According to the BBC website, at 1'o'clock this morning visibility will be very good.

No, it won't. It'll be dark. I won't be able to see a bloody thing.

And to think, the BBC used to be the fount of all knowledge.

In a world of their own.

Passing Syon Lane Station in West London yesterday there were 6 peopl crossing the zebra crossing for whom I stopped. Well, I say I stopped, which I did but that was mainly so I didn't run them over as they didn't bother to stop at the kerb but just decided to step onto the crossing. The first four were wearing ipod earplugs (white), the fifth had headphones on, the sixth was managing to walk without the aid of music.

Only one managed to say thankyou. It was the one who was fully involved in the here/hear and now. Those with the earphones strode on regardless of traffic. They say you never hear the bullet that kills you, for some I would imagine that also includes the car.

Fuel Frugality

I have finally filled the tank of the new Peugeot. (See about 5 posts earlier at a guess).

It cost £92.00!! but the tank was almost dry, I managed to fit 69.6 litres in, not bad on a 70 litre tank, it must have been running on fumes. That 69.6 litres covered 533.4 miles, 130 of it motorway, the balance driving around London. I can be bothered to work out the total to the 43rd decimal point but that is near enough an average of 35 miles to the gallon.

As I was expecting only about 630 miles for a complete tank on the motorway I'm pretty pleased. I reckon I might push 700 miles to the tank if I chose to drive to Scotland and back, which I aren't.

The sins of the father....

are visited upon the child. Or perhaps given to in this case.

This is going to be a bit of a 3 point ramble. Or it is when I started typing. It may expand, be warned!

Yesterday, at Marj's school, there was an "incident", the modern day euphamism for everything from a hissy fit to a murder. Whilst not the latter it was serious enough for the boy involved to be excluded. So the school rang the mother to come and collect him. After 2 hours they rang her again. She decided she was too busy to come at the moment. Another 3 hours later and she deigned to turn up. She then decided that everything was the schools fault. How they had caused her childs bad behaviour, never given him a chance, etc, etc.

Is the mother right, is the school right? The background may give you a clue. The mother was called because of course, the father isn't about, he is serving at Her Majestys Pleasure. Not sure why she was busy as she wasn't looking after the two older boys because they are both in Feltham Young Offenders Unit.

The shame is, that although this boys older siblings were always trouble, he wasn't, but it has been obvious to all those at the school that he would go the same way, even though they've tried to help him. It would be quite easy to see him as a young troublemaker but I just feel sorry for him. I've met him, very briefly, just once. It was actually whilst he was getting into trouble for something else, but I don't think he's a really bad kid. Just unlucky in his upbringing. You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family.

But this links on to another tale.

In September, Marjs school is likely to be given a new pupil entering Year 6. It's their "turn". This boy has been excluded from virtually every other school in the borough, including the unit that takes excluded pupils! He's violent. But of course he has rights. His parents have rights. There is an expectation that he should be educated in a mainstream school. He won't be at her school long. He will almost definitely get excluded within the first term, if not half term. But I'm more concerned about the rights of the child who is going to be on the receiving end of the punch/kick/beating that gets him excluded. I'm all for giving someone another chance, maybe, two, probably not as many as he's had, and certainly not when the specialist schools staff can't control him. Would you like to offer him a place in your childs school?

Lastly, someone was talking on the radio the other day and made a point that got me thinking. They were saying that when my generation was young we were wheeled about in prams that faced our mother, or occasionally father. That way we were always in sight of her, always reassured, always being spoken to, and thus always learning Now, many babies and small children face away, towards the world. They don't have that contact. They're not developing their language skills, they are on their own. The worst pushchairs that I have seen are the ones where the parent takes the kid jogging and pushes it along, facing forward. If I was a small child I'd be scared stiff. Maybe in the end it doesn't make a blind bit of difference, I'm sure those who have outward facing pushchairs believe it isn't a bad thing, but I do wonder whether it has made a difference.

Your comments please.

No sooner said........

I am now the proud owner of a Peugeot 406 Diesel Estate, or I will be when I've made the long trip to Darlington to get it on Wednesday. That'll be 6 hrs 50 mins on a National Express coach, but at least it only costs £6.00, a bit of a bargain, less than a quid an hour.

A tank will do 635 miles rather than 240 from the Lexus. I reckon the car will pay for itself in just a few months as it's only costing me £700. Expect to hear no more on the matter unless the car is absolutely brilliant or a complete dog.

Tax Haven

The government must think they are living in paradise. It's bad enough that they charge us so much tax on fuel but then, to charge us VAT on the tax proportion is just taking the P.

I'm thinking about changing the car to something somewhat more fuel frugal. The cost of motoring is now getting too high. I could increase the profit the company takes to cover it but you have to watch competitive prices.

Meanwhile, the extra £7bn that the government has earned in fuel taxation since april, yes, that's april this year, will no doubt fail to be spent on anything of use to motorists such as road surfaces. And no, speed/safety cameras and remote cctv cameras to monitor parking are not a help to motorists.

Let's hope yesterdays by-election is a sign of things to come.

On December 5th last year we were burgled, as chronicled here. The only thing taken was Marj's car. We had a call last Friday to say it had been recovered. It is now in a Police Pound in Perivale. So last night we went to retrieve it and queued for an hour to be processed. Today I have to go back with the RAC to see if it will start. We know the battery is dead, but we know nothing else about the condition. The police can't tell us wheter it is driveable, what damage there appears to be, although it can't be extensive as they seem to think that it should be driveable. As it is, we have yet to actually clap eyes on it.

An update will follow later.

Thoughts on BoJo.

Boris, our new mayor, is often portrayed as non-serious. This partly stems from him hosting Have I Got News For You some time back. Now, you only get that gig if you have a bit of personality. Apparently it is wrong for the mayor of London to have a personality. Perhaps nearly as wrong as it is for the prime Minister to have no personality.

Is Boris an idiot? He represents the Conservatives in Henley. Now there probably isn't a safer seat in Britain than that so why would he be given it if the tories didn't think he was immensely able. If he was an idiot he would have been given an inner city seat to fight that he would lose. Also, a sizeable number of the constituents he represents are, in general, influential business people. They are not the sort to sufer fools gladly. If he wasn't good at what he does he would have been "removed" before the last election.

He has appointed a coloured gentleman called Ray Lewis as his deputy. The man is incredibly able and has helped turn many black youths lives round with the work he has done. As well as being deputy, part of his remit is to advise on strategies for tackling youth crime. Part of the black community are complaining that Boris is only doing this for tokenism. Would they be the same as those who would complain that it was racism if he had appointed somebody white.?

There are others complaining that he is appointing people who will "do the job for him". Well I'm sorry, that's actually the role of Mayor. Rather like on a ship, the Captain doesn't stoke the boiler. INdeed, quite often the Captiain isn't steering the boat either. He is a figurehead with overall responsibility. The more able people Boris brings in, the better.

I certainly think his Mayoral term is going to be eventful. I hope for the better. I guess he has also found out, as if as a politician he didn't already know - You Just Can't Win.

Fraise phrases

I now know how many french words an english person is meant to be able to cope with!

It is 18!

We have been trying to win a french cottage in The Daily Mail's competition. Each day you have to collect a word to submit. Until today we have been given such French fancies as; croissant, baguette, fromage, pommes, bonjour.

After 18 days we have hit a brick wall. Todays word is....... strawberries. Apparently fraises is just that bit too foreign for any red blooded english man or woman to have to cope with, despite the fact that it is plastered over the packaging of any strawberry related item in a supermarket in these days of imported goods.

Or maybe it is just because it is St Georges Day they didn't want anything French to taint our celebrations.

I await tomorrows word with baited breath.

I'm no celebrity

I have an awful confession to make. I have reached the age of 51 and have not;

Had any eating disorder,
Had a drug hell,
Had a sex shame,
Killed my ex-lovers hamster/cat/brother/boyfriend/giraffe.
Had a breast reduction,
Been in rehab,
Appeared in a soap,
Had a boob-job
Had a tummy tuck
Lost 8lb and have a new trim figure,
Put on 8lb and am really happy with my new curves,
Had my children made a ward of court,
married a footballer.

I have to face it, I'm never going to get into Closer/Heat/OK magazine.

But I've lied, one of the above in fact has happened.........but which one?

Waymarkers Welcome

Hi to all you waymarkers who venture past this way. Leave a comment then I'll know who you were.

Schoolday Sweets.

Thought about sweets I used to have when I was at school.

Kola Cubes, Pineapple Cubes, Rhubarb & Custard.

My favoeites though were probably Sherbet Pips! Easily retrieved from a blazer pocket and surreptitiously eaten during lessons. Mmmm!

Of course, when I say easily retrieved, that was until they solidified in the bottom of your pocket and mixed with the ever present fluff that was generated in school blazer pockets. Come jacket cleaning time I don't think they were my mums favourite sweets!

What were your favourites?

Heavy Leather Balls

So, yet more talk in the media about the behaviour of footballers. This is the problem when you pay peope too much money and they start to think they are important. I know it's a tactic to try and harass the refere but it's not a particulrly positive one.

How I long for the day when a goal was celebrated by jogging back to the halfway line with nothing more than a handshake with your colleagues and perhaps a pat on the back to encourage a young player.

Players with short back and sides, long shorts and simple unbranded jerseys, shinpads, boots that soaked up the water, along with a leather laced up football that left imprints on your head when you headed it.

Modern football players wouldn't survive in that environment. Diving wouldn't have been tolerated had anyone bothered to be so ungentlemanly as to have tried it. Stud marks up and down your legs were part of the game, not something to roll around on the floor as though death was imminent.

Heigh Ho, those times are not coming back, pity though. And yes, I know the argument is that the skills on display are so much better.

Immaculate conception?

I have mentioned before amongst these ramblings, my step-sistes Erica who lives in San Francisco and is of a Sapphic persuasion.

I hear today that she is pregnant. I suspect that Debbie, her partner, is not the father! This modern life! It's all too confusing for an old timer like me.

When honour means nothing.

In present day Britain, honour, duty, bravery and courage mean nothing. The heroes of the day are overpaid footballers, the women who hang around them and anybody who once appeared on television, preferably either drunk, swearing, having sex, or even better, all three.

The Gurkhas however, have all the qualities that Britons were once known for.

So what happens now. We let anybody from the EU into the country regardless of their lifestyle, financial or criminal status, and those who come to cause terrorrism and the overthrow of our country, but we want to deport generous, polite, well mannered, dutiful, brave, loyal, servants of our country. Many of whom have given their lives, and the rest being willing to risk them, in our defence.

Of course, the Goverment will try to deport them. It saves them a small amount of money and The Gurkhas will not cause any trouble, it is against their principals. I wonder if the Government knows what principals are?

If you can take 5 minutes to e-mail your MP or do something else to show your support, please do.

Of course, if you don't have time to do that because you have to rush out and get this weeks copy of Heat magazine to find out how many times Jordan has thrown up this week then I quite understand.

Too fat for Bluetooth.

I have given in and bought one of those bluetooth thingies so I can walk round with a flashing blue light in my ear and talk to myself like an idiot. There is only one problem. If I put the phone in my right hand trouser pocket, (where it lives), with my earpiece in my left ear, (the best one for hearing with), my stomach breaks the line of sight and I lose the connection.

How embarrasing!

Past images.

There's a photographic exhibition in Leeds showing photos of Armley and Burley. My mum grew up in Burley, and I know Armley from family holidays.

From the few photos I've seen from there so far, they could have been from the 40's or 50's but in fact were taken in 1969. Kids sat on doorsteps, playing in the street, ladies stringing their washing from one side of the road to the other, etc. I find it quite emotional to look at them as they remind me of my grandparents who lived in Armley.

I'm going to go take a look and I'm half inclined to see if mum fancies going too. It'll be like a road trip!

Do The Funky Gibbon

I've been invited by a mate to Go Ape!

I quite like the idea, and I have agreed to it. The problem is I'm scared of heights. Even quite low heights.

When I swam for the school I didn't like it when we had to use racing blocks because it seemed way too high above the water to dive in. As for diving boards, whoa, forget it.

Luckily they have people who come and rescue you if you get stuck, although embarrassment might mean I stay up there for some time. It doen's fill me with confidence that within the safety instructions the word fatal appears more than once.

I've spent many a year telling people I'm possessed by a gibbon, now it's come back to haunt me.

The other problem I've been thinking about is will I have to paint my bottom blue?

We have lift off

It's taken a time to get this far, and I'll have quite a time of ploughing more items on, but the website for Marj's half of the company is launched!

Serranda Sensuals.

Pop along for all your hosiery, lingerie and swimwear needs.

Parish Notices

I have flu, or the tail end of it. Real flu. Not man-flu. Being ill is very good for losing weight. 5lbs in a week. Better than I'd been doing by being careful with what I ate.

Spirits were raised yesterday by once more attending The Harrogate Lingerie and Swimwear Exhibition. Scantilly clad women and a free chocolate fountain! Marj was also delighted to find there were some male models this year. She has had to lie down in a darkened room to recover.

Many a true word, and other proverbs....

How sharper than a serpents tooth is an ungrateful child, or three for that matter! Domestic bliss eh?!

Culture for the Masses

I did write quite a long piece on this, but as you can imagine it was a slightly ineloquent rant. But basically you can file it under the, "if only teachers had no life of their own, worked 47 hours a day for 12 days a week, then all would be right with the world".

I'm all for giving kids culture but for gods sake, can't someone explain to parents that they have some bloody responsibility to "educate" their kids as well!

Onwards to glory

As part of Marj's annual assessment, she has been asked to consider whether she wants to take the extra training and exams to become a full time teacher and leave the world of Higher Level Teaching Assisstant behind.

As the schools music specialist she already does some teaching just in that subject. So she has been working on the pros and cons of moving forward.

PROS : Having a whole class to take and teach full time. The extra money. Paid holidays. (HLTAs only get paid for working time, not the 13 weeks they are on holiday). "On the job" courses rather than full time education.

CONS : The time needed to complete the course outside of the working day. The parents! (More so than the kids). But by far the worst thing is the amount of admin required to be carrried out by teachers.

That admin is what will probably put her off. Planning the lessons is okay. And if it was just marking work then she could cope. It's the assesments, the "levelling" of pupils, the follow-ups and a whole raft of other stuff she's told me about that I've forgotten.

Gone are the days when teachers just taught, marked and wrote reports. Now they must prove to the government that they can fit all the new initiatives that Westminster come up with into an already full timetable, and then be ready to scrap those next year when they change everything. They must take the blame for the deficiencies of parents in helping their children learn at home. (Parents are asked to read with their children for just 10 mins per day, but for many of the parents at her school there just isn't time to fit this into the merry-go-round of soaps and reality programmes). They are now being cited as a reason that children are obese. When children fight, if a teacher breaks the fight up they are liable to be sued, or at the least reported, should a child decide they were rough handled.

So on balance, what is probably a vocation for her, will be avoided as it is too stressful. That's why most teachers need the holidays.

Not quite according to plan.

I particularly liked the report on News at Ten last night regarding the terrorist who was planning to capture a UK Muslim soldier and "behead him like a pig".

At the end of the report it mentioned that he had always wanted to go to Afghanistan and fight with the Taliban. And what was the reason given that he couldn't go? His wife wouldn't let him!

No doubt he would have fought in the first Gulf War, but his mum made him come in for tea! Sometimes it must be really awkward being an international terrorist when your family just don't get it.

'Twas if it never were.

So all is back to normal. Marj is back at school, the traffic is as bad as ever and suppliers have dragged themselves back into their offices. Even I have managed to do some paperwork!

Having stood on a pair of scales last week and immediately fallen off them with shock I've started the annual diet. Part of the exercise routine is to go to Ceroc every week. If ever there is a series of Strictly Come Lumbering About I'll be a shoo-in. Those who fancy seeing an 18.5 stone 51 year old two left footed idiot trying to dance should get themselves to Twickenham of a Monday night. It's better entertainment than what's on telly.