Life Is All Cobblers

Oh No!

2010-09-23T11:33:00.004+01:00

We're going to get relegated now.

We ALWAYS get relegated when we do rather well in the League Cup.

And here's the even worse bit - my confession.

I was given a ticket - and I didn't use it.

Yes, for a host of reasons that seemed really good at the time - not least of which: "Why would I want to spend most of my day and plenty of my night, on a coach with a load of drunken men just to see us thumped 8-0?" I missed the biggest night for my club ever. Instead of being at Anfield I was stuck at home listening to the local radio commentators going crazy. By which I meant that the radio commentators were going crazy - but then again - I of course was going crazy too.

I am such an idiot.

I need friends by the way!

2010-08-20T14:01:00.002+01:00

I'm Cobbler Jane on Facebook if you didn't already know.

So anyway

2010-08-20T13:48:00.002+01:00

I finally had the job interview I mentioned in passing.

I happened to meet someone a few months ago and we got chatting. She worked for a private fostering agency and she mentioned that she thought there was a vacancy coming up in one of their offices which is relatively near where I live. She took my details and then proceeded to e-mail me on a regular basis to say there was a job coming up, and that I should apply for it. All very flattering of course, but let's bear in mind the fact that she didn't know anything about me except what we chatted about at our conference.

I honestly didn't know if I was interested but I think I gave in and applied so she'd shut up about it. I thought I'd just go along if they offered me an interview and see what it was all about. If nothing else I thought going through an interview process would be good for me.

The upshot of all this anyway is that unless my references are poor I will be leaving the County Council sometime in the next few months to join the sainted private sector. A hundred plus reasons to grab it with both hands, and a couple of misgivings on the other side of the equation.

The truth is that a combination of budget cuts and a ill conceived re-organisation have left me with no prospects to progress in my present role whatsoever. And when I add to that the fact that if I stay here there will be no pay rise for the next three years at least I know I have to give this opportunity a go.

So that's my news? How's things with you lot?

Clearly

2010-08-16T15:38:00.002+01:00

The most important thing about this story is what car he drove.

A variation on 'Woman, blonde, 39' I suppose.

I just have to say

2010-08-15T20:10:00.002+01:00

Please read 'One Day' by David Nicholls, if you haven't already, and then tell me what you thought of it.

I had been unable to put it down, loved it from the first chapter and loved and recognised the two characters-Emma and Dexter (Em and Dex). I was laughing out loud at it.But then yesterday morning my sobbing woke Reidski up. Not just a silent tear but quite uncontrollable grief.

It's wonderful - but just one shocking and totally unexpected sentence is going to stay with me for a long long time.

Breakfast is served

2010-08-10T15:04:00.004+01:00

So following on from the traumas (plural) of the journey to Ludlow we find ourselves in a lovely room overlooking a beautiful golf course. We had a much needed evening at an excellent pub , and the next morning we had a full English breakfast to look forward to.

Now I’ve never liked that moment when you first walk into a hotel restaurant of a morning. Everyone already in there looks at you and you don’t know where to sit so you hover near the door hoping that guidance will be provided as soon as possible so you can sink into the anonymity of your table for two. I know Reidski is the same. I know this because of the way he always, ever so politely, ensures I go through the door first.

We follow the directions for the dining room in a rather gorgeous Georgian house. I go through the door first (as always) and Oh The Horror! A huge table is laid out for all eight guests (maximum that can stay in the B&B accommodation there). Three seats on each side and one at each end. The end seats are both occupied, and one on each side. In other words, the two couples already installed at the table have put as much distance between the other couple as physically possible.

My first thought was that I would turn round to find that Reidski had done a runner. I know fully well how very much he was going to hate this situation. I selected a middle chair which at least meant he would only actually have one person (me) right next to him. And knowing it was entirely down to me I commenced with the small talk...or at least I tried to.

Couple the Elder were quite open to chat. TOO open to chat in Reidksi’s opinion. In fact within minutes of our acquaintance we had heard all about their crazy golf experience of Christmas Eve 2004 at Great Yarmouth. Couple the Younger however.....

It was the ‘He’ of Couple the Younger who was at the end seat and I turned to him to ask how long they had been staying at the Lodge. I swear to god he went purple and nearly choked before managing to stammer out the words ‘Just got here.’ Out of compassion – never mind out of embarrassment (mine) I decided not to give him a stroke by directing any further conversation in his direction. As for the ‘She’ of Couple the Younger: well she managed to keep her back to me the entire time we were there making it crystal clear she was not in any way whatsoever really have a communal breakfast experience with a bunch of strangers.

A fourth couple arrived. Nodded so quickly to us all that if you blinked you would have missed it, and sat down to whisper between themselves for the duration of the repast.

The owner of the place came through and said something directly to Reidski and I. Terrible moment because due to his accent I had not the faintest idea what he had asked us. At that point it was me who appeared to be without the power of speech. It turned out that he was asking us ‘Did we have a nice meal at the Unicorn?’ Reidski managed to answer him in spite of the fact that he thought the place we had eaten was called the Orchid.

Reidski who told me later he had mentally steeled himself to believe that it was possible to spend half an hour of his life in this horrendous social situation managed to contribute to the re-telling of the M5 story. He did however collapse on the bedroom floor with a panic attack when we finally made our escape. If I could have stopped laughing I would have been in a better state to administer first aid.

Should add that the breakfast itself was simply superb. Highly recommended if you are one of those rare people completely comfortable eating baked beans in front of people you have never met before in your life. But when I said to the (delightful) owners we would be back, Reidski was very clear with me as we came away that, ‘No, we would not.’

The road to Shropshire

2010-08-09T14:49:00.001+01:00

is full of unexpected potholes.

Every word of what he writes is true - except that I did NOT flirt with the mechanic. Definitely NOT.

I am a neglectful blogger

2010-08-02T12:41:00.004+01:00

I guess it is generally the case that unless one is Iain Dale (and who would want to be Iain Dale)that most of us bloggers run out of energy and/or inspiration after 'x' number of years churning this stuff out. There is only so many times I for example can report that Reidski and I had a great night together, before any readers out there make a sharp exit in the direction of someone writing something mildly original. Not that I want Reidski and I to have a dreadful night together in order to provide you with variety you understand......

So what is actually new?

Well my garden pond is new! I am very happy about this, although I do wish I had cut the hedge before taking the photo. The pond was previously a potato patch in which potatoes never grew (they tend to need to be planted first in order to subsequently grow), but in which weeds flourished. It now looks much prettier believe me. And I have fish! Actually the main motivator for me getting this pond was the knowledge that Reidski may soon be moving from his flat where he has a pond and fish - and I was worried about those fish getting neglected. I plan to transfer them at such time as he moves out. (Although his fish would appear to have survived perfectly well on many years of neglect - we didn't know there were any fish in his pond until he'd been there over a year!)(The water could not be described as crystal clear.)

Having fish should be relaxing really, but I do have trouble chilling out by my pond until all five of my present brood have been accounted for each time I visit. I live in constant fear of abduction. The accounting for them bit isn't so easy either. They don't answer when I call them, they don't all emerge from underneath the lily pads at the same time, and they are difficult to tell apart. So it appears that I am stuck with " sitting there by the side of the pond until such time as the fish make themselves visible, independently and simultaneously" and this is no ideal solution: today it took eleven minutes. Still - it beats working.

In other news we have been to Paris. I think Reidksi has just about recovered from the nine euros for a pint of lager incident. Lucky that I am a qualified first aider.

We managed to go to places we had not explored before which was mainly great - the beautiful Jardin du Luxembourg, the opulent Versailles, and the enormous Pere Lachaise cemetery. Traveller's tip: Do not go to this cemetery without purchasing a map. We did not purchase a map. La Grande Mistake. Mausoleums can all start to look alike after the first two hours of searching for dear Oscar. Not so great was the familiarity we gained with the exit of the Abbesses Metro Station which was as far as our trip to Montmartre got. The rain - the like of which we had never seen before - was so bad that after having spent god knows how long not leaving the metro station we ended up agreeing that killing over four hours in the Gard du Nord before our train was due was actually a better option than going out in that rain. (Having taken the over four hours at the Gard du Nord option, I'm not entirely sure if we were right but never mind.)

In other news we are going to Shropshire later this week. This is actually a mistake, because if I had known when booking our hotel that Ludlow (Shropshire) was not in fact Ledbury (Herefordshire) we would be going to Herefordshire. Herefordshire is where we were supposed to be going - but Ludlow looks very nice anyway.

I am sure in the immortal words of Mr Bennett that I have by now 'Delighted you long enough', so will over and out.

Coming soon (I suspect), the episode in which Jane makes a complete idiot of herself at a job interview.

Someone's been telling porkies

2010-08-02T12:38:00.003+01:00

As some of us

suspected quite some time ago.

See if you can guess which gym chain I belong to.

2010-07-22T12:13:00.003+01:00

My gym is celebrating the birthdays of a couple of great men this month with events aiming to raise money for charity.

One of those men is Nelson Mandela.

And the other is Richard Branson.

And no I am not making this up!

I do love local newspapers

2010-07-02T14:05:00.001+01:00

'Probably Chinese lanterns'.

But that's no reason not to fill some space up with a little bit of harmless nonsense anyway.

Positives

2010-06-28T13:27:00.001+01:00

1. We got further than the French.

2. Reidski's happy.

3. There is no 3.

In which Reidski goes Gaga for Gaga.

2010-06-09T16:08:00.006+01:00

OK – well he really didn’t want to be there. Originally I had bought two tickets for this gig for me to take my daughter and we should have gone in March. However, Lady G then rearranged some tour dates including ours, and the new date clashed with a 16th birthday party for one of my daughter’s very best friends. Agonising was agonised over, and she eventually came down on the side of the party. I call in the First Reserve, one Reidksi, very occasional blogger of London Town. He wasn’t wildly keen but after I promised him various sexual favours (and when that failed offered alcohol) he agreed to make the trip to Sheffield last Friday to see the pop phenomenon known variously as Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, or Lady GaGa for commercial purposes.

The crowd was somewhat mixed. Most importantly for me, I wasn’t the oldest there, and most importantly for him, he wasn’t the only straight man. There was a range of GaGa style alikes from the “Wow! She/he looks amazing!” – to the “OHMYGOODGOD – WHAT DOES SHE* THINK SHE LOOKS LIKE!!!!” kind of range.

(*Unfortunately when men do GaGa they seemed to get away with it, whilst the female of the species sometimes falls somewhat short.)

There were also quite a few kids looking no older than 10 who were along with their parents. Know I DO know what some of those parents had to say after the support band had been and (thankfully) gone because I was in the toilet queue later with some of them but exactly how I am going to relate the performance that was Semi Precious Weapons I’m really not too sure.

“ Semi Precious Weapons? Are they a boy band?” asked Reidski. I had no idea but it transpired that A Boy Band They Are Not.

“Is that Lady GaGa?” was Reidksi’s next question when the band appeared to the sound of booming base and the sight of a guitarist performing backward summersaults on the stage plus a six foot something blonde in massively high heels and a dress that scarcely covered her arse. No. On closer inspection the six foot something blonde in massively high heels and a dress that scarcely covered her arse turned out to be a he, not a she. And that would have been fine, had he demonstrated just a modicum of talent. Instead he chose to demonstrate that he wasn’t wearing anything under his dress...and the sight thus revealed did not demonstrate much talent I can tell you. He also chose to address us incessantly as a bunch of mother fuckers, although to be fair I think he was using the term in its loving and caring sense. (?) And he also learnt that the only way he was ever going to get a cheer that evening (being as how the band were so utterly and quite jaw droppingly shite) was to keep yelling out how we would soon be seeing “LAID - EEE - FUCK – KING – GA – GA!!!!” Guaranteed a cheer every time (even after the 150th yelling of “LAID - EEE - FUCK – KING – GA – GA!!!!”)

I can’t even start to describe just how bad Semi Precious Weapons actually were, but they describe themselves thus: “ We play our own "Filthy Glamour" brand of rock music and espouse a "Dirty Showbiz" philosophy.”

That apparently includes stripping stark bollock naked on stage.

As I mentioned before I do know what the parents of some of the younger children thought of this particular band and let’s just say the answer is along the lines of ‘Not Much.’

And so I turn in relief to the main event.

When I first started to become aware of Lady Gaga (through the tabloids, not through her music) I was quite sure that she was of no more interest than Kerry Katona. This view prevailed until I caught her performance at Glastonbury where she came on stage at 6.30 and produced what this article described as the best Glastonbury performance of a decade. I was sold.

So its probably true to say that I was expecting more from the evening than Reidksi was, but I still wasn’t expecting what we got which was over two hours of spectacular, ludicrous, fabulous, camp, burlesque, art house pop at its best performed by a young woman of only 24 with quite incredible charisma. Someone else described the set as a cross between The Wanderers and The Wizard of Oz and that is as good a description as you might get of something that encompassed a piano on fire, harps, a subway train and a smashed up Rolls Royce, fountains of blood, green vomit and a giant (fame) monster. As for her costumes....

The other thing is that there was no lip synching, her voice is amazing and when you learn afterwards that she has been playing the piano since she was 4 then that explains how bloody good she is at that too. She talks a lot too, and if it had gone on much longer I would have come away truly believing she loved me as much as she kept telling me she did.

And what of Reidski? Did he remain coolly aloof from all this nonsense? Not at all. He loved it too. And to her rather plaintive question to the audience as to whether or not we thought she was sexy his answer was an unequivocal ‘Yes’.

That was when we fell out ;-)

Good quality footage of 'Bad Romance' here....

Now this

2010-06-03T12:09:00.003+01:00

Is truly remarkable.

Wow! What an amazing response by over a thousand schools all falling over themselves to apply for Academy Status.

Even more remarkable given that the letters from Michael Gove didn't go out until Wednesday 26th May, therefore if posted first class arriving on Thursday, which was precisely one whole day before schools across the country broke up for half term.

Now, as a school governor I can't help but think that if we were invited to apply for Academy Status we would (call me old fashioned) discuss it as governors first. Are we to believe that so many schools not only managed to convene a governor's meeting that took place either Thursday or Friday last week (most of us are quite busty* people you know - some notice is usually appreciated)and still leave enough time to reach the major decision to apply - not to mention making the application itself?

Yes right.

Pull the other one Michael Gove.

* Ooops! Not corrected at Lisa's request :-)

Poor man!

2010-06-03T12:00:00.001+01:00

How ever will he manage?

Hello Steve!

2010-06-01T15:21:00.003+01:00

Well in answer to your question I am right here - but have been suffering from a severe case of Bloggers Block. NOT that that is any excuse for not writing anything here so in no particular order here's a little round up of recent events.

1. Can not fucking believe it. This time last year I was immersed in a profound and prolonged sulk that the Cobblers were now in the same division as Dagenham and Bloody Redbridge. Well now we're not. Owing to the fact that Dagenham and Bloody Redbridge have gone up and we haven't. How rubbish (how cobblers) is that?

2. Also could not fucking believe it when lightning - that is not supposed to strike twice - struck twice. I related some time ago, whether it was here or in the other place I can't quite be bothered to check that out, that I had my car broken into and my make up got stolen. That resulted in the embarrassment of having to relate to my insurers just how much I spend on the old slap. Ever since then I have meticulously hidden everything out of sight in my car when I leave it. Much good did it do me. A couple of weeks ago Reidski and I had a drink in town and left the car for less than an hour, to return to find a smashed window, a ransacked inside of a car, and a missing make up bag. I have a lead to my radio that allows me to play my i-pod in the car. The other end of the lead had slipped down by the side of a seat and I think that what ever low life did this, thought (do they actually think these people?) there was an i-pod on the end of the lead. There was not. All they took was my make up bag so I have had to suffer the increased embarrassment of making a further claim from my insurers. That experience was not enhanced by hearing the tone of utter disbelief in the voice of the woman I spoke to when I gave her a rough estimate of the replacement value of the stuff I had lost. She clearly thought I was trying to pull a fast one. Bobbi Brown does not come cheap you know!

I've lost a stone since Christmas people - mainly through exercising. Feel much better for it and no longer have to breathe in to get my jeans on, but the reason I am mentioning it here is that apart from Reidski and a woman I see at the gym absolutely NO ONE has noticed!!! What I need to know though is - does this mean I am condemned to a minimum of four hours on the spinning bike every week for the rest of my life because that is how I've lost the weight, and I don't want it going back on again. Four bloody hours every week!!!??? What a prospect to look forward to.

As for politics....what on earth can one say?

Sadly David Laws life's goal to put people on the dole has been thwarted. Luckily there are no shortage of inexperienced MP's to give that role to and welcome to this weeks Chief Secretary to the Treasury Danny Alexander. Five years ago our Dan was Press Secretary for the Cairngorn Mountain Park. Today he is Chief Job Slasher. He joins Gideon, our Chancellor of the Exchequer who as this article points out also has no economic experience whatsoever. "This is as opportune a moment as any to run through George Osborne's economic experience in full: he doesn't have any. And to enumerate the number of jobs he's had in business/the City/finance: none. And his relevant educational qualifications? Zero."

But that's all OK anyway because all Danny and Gideon have to understand is 'Private Sector = Good, Public Sector = Bad.' Personally I am simply delighted to have the opportunity of (at best) a wage freeze for the next two years as my part towards sorting out the mess made by - umm - the banks (part of the private sector as I seem to recall).

Oh and can I just say in passing that Liberal Democrats are a bunch of power grabbing unscrupulous bastards?

Thank you for that opportunity.

Funny that I seem to recall someone (Nick Clegg now I come to think about it) saying that a vote for Labour risked putting the Tories in. I'd be laughing like a drain if I was one of the idiots who actually fell for that one. Anyway - that comment was no doubt was SO last month.

And I'll just end by telling you this - as no way will HE tell you himself.

Reidski and I are seeing Lady GaGa on Friday!

OK - the ticket wasn't for him in the first place but it came available and he's just overjoyed about that as you may imagine. Still - a weekend in Sheffield beckons for us and we will have fun, fun, fun.

I won't leave this so long next time.

Over and out for now.

Customer Service

2010-04-30T13:27:00.003+01:00

Don't you just love it?

I was DETERMINED that this year there would be no repeat of

last year, and that no matter what I would not go and see Dancing on Ice Live again. I did however know that the subject would arise - on a daily basis. And so it did.

After some weeks of negotiation/argument, a compromise was reached whereby my sister and I would take our daughters to Birmingham and then leave them to see the show whilst we went off to go shopping/get pissed. But then I had another strop and refused to purchase the tickets because they HAD to be ordered through Ticket Master - and each ticket, on top of the face value of £40.25 carried a so called 'administration' charge of £5.00. WHAT THE FUCK FOR???? The tickets are ordered on line and dispatched. Does that in any way justify a charge of £5.00 per ticket? I think I can assume most people may think 'Not'. I did try to buy them direct from the venue but to no avail. They had to be bought through Ticket Master - only I refused to do that. Luckily for the girls my principles were upheld whilst my sister paid for the tickets - plus 'administration' charge. For further info - that purchase was made via my e-mail address, and using my home address for delivery of the tickets, on 28th March. The event itself is on Monday coming.

Now one might suppose that having paid an extortionate 'administration' charge that that would at least guarantee that the tickets would be sent in good time but one would be wrong. One MIGHT suppose that having paid an extortionate 'administration' charge that that would at least guarantee one could ring up and speak to someone about the non-appearance of said tickets but sadly one would be wrong again. In fact they won't accept calls until there is less than five days remaining before the event, if the tickets have not by then arrived. I imagine it is pretty obvious to anyone who is still with me at this point that no tickets have as yet arrived.

I rang yesterday. It was a rather one sided conversation in which I pressed various buttons and then a computer generated voice told me the tickets had been dispatched, and yet today - Still No Tickets. I ring again. I press more buttons. I listen to a computer generated voice. I fight on. I press further buttons, and then still further buttons until - rejoice! - I speak to a person........

who promptly tells me she can't talk to me about this matter because my sister paid for the tickets. But then...........

She asked me if there was anything further she could help me with!!!!!

You couldn't make it up.

Shape of things to come?

2010-04-27T11:00:00.003+01:00

Question from my 13 year old niece.

“How do they know who won the election? Is it like on X Factor?”

Let’s see now.

"Nick Griffin.....Crawl back under that stone where you came from."

“Nick Clegg...... It’s not you.” (Cue for Nick to wipe away the tears and tell us what an amazing journey it's been.)

“Gordon Brown...... It could be you.”

“Posh Boy...... God help us but it could be you.”

“All will be revealed after this commercial break.....”

Now that we have an election campaign entirely based upon how well the party leaders do in the televised debates it's probably only a matter of time before the results will be announced that way.

Update 30th April 2010: Seems I am not alone on this one.

That was the Big Society that was.

2010-04-21T15:54:00.006+01:00

Apparently it’s time for change. Change being something to do with going back to the good old days when we were ruled by the old Etonians and we all knew our place, and the upper classes were free to enjoy the spectacle of hound dogs ripping stags and foxes to pieces.

I expect it is something to do with the standard of education I received but I’ve been struggling to understand what our would be leader is on about when he talks about the Big Society.

"The What Society?" You may well ask, but I distinctly remember that as long ago as a week last Tuesday it was the Tories Big Idea.

Yet in the leaders debate an entire two days later Cameron never mentioned the concept. (Although he did share with us that he met a 40 year old black man in Plymouth who’d been in the navy for 30 years. ...since he was ten???) Cameron subsequently explained he didn’t mention his Big Society then due to the subjecty subjects that came up during that debate. Clearly they learn a different vocabulary to the rest of us at those posh fee paying schools.

I kind of gathered that this Big Society thingy involved parents having the right to set up and run their own schools, never mind that half of our local schools can’t even find sufficient volunteers to be school governors and attend a meeting once every six weeks, let alone to establish and run an entire school in their spare time. But now I find out – a whole eight days after the Tory manifesto launch that actually there is in fact ‘No such thing as the big society’* according to senior Conservatives including one who says:

"The 'big society' is bollocks. It is boiled vegetables that have been cooked for three minutes too long. It tastes of nothing. What is it?" Answers please on a back of a postcard to Tory Central Office.

So anyways up. Now that we have all apparently fallen for Nick Clegg and are going to vote for him on the basis that we now know who he is, Cameron has a new message to sell but again is not being entirely clear what the bloody hell he actually means. Today we have him declaring that :

"We Brits have an electoral system "that really works".... not one minute after hammering the "Vote Clegg, get Brown" drum again. As my namesake puts it so succinctly in today’s Guardian: How anyone with even pretensions to intellectual adequacy can continue to hold both positions is a mystery, but if 7 May finds a third-place-finishing Labour forming a government, one trusts Cameron will continue to sing the system's praises at every opportunity.

I would add that it is a mystery to me how someone with this level of intellectual inadequacy could be standing in a parish council election let alone standing to be Prime Minister. Although George W Bush did just come to mind.

* A variation on a previous quote by some other senior Tory whose name escapes me that 'There is no such thing as society'.

Put them in the longboat till they're sober

2010-04-12T11:02:00.001+01:00

Driving on the M1 last Friday afternoon I found myself in the fast lane overtaking a lorry, when over and above the sound of King Adora (the band I was en route to see) I became aware of a Very Loud Noise. ‘WTF?’ I asked myself. I hoped it was the lorry. I got past the lorry but the noise was still there. As I moved in front of the lorry it flashed me. When the guy who had been overtaking the lorry behind me pulled into the middle lane and also started pointing at my car I knew I was in trouble. I pulled onto the hard shoulder, took a deep breath to steal myself against whatever it was I was about to face, got out, and saw the puncture.

I have only ever felt anything but pity for the poor sods you see stranded on the hard shoulder with car problems. Now I found myself as one such poor sod myself I therefore felt justified in feeling great self pity at that moment. And yes – I KNOW I should know how to change a tyre but....

I didn’t know what to do. In fact I was in such a state that it wasn’t till later that I realised the reason I couldn’t get through to Reidski on my phone to tell him I was going to be late and to pray for me, was that it was on Bluetooth, but I wasn’t wearing my ear piece. At the time I just thought that was one more thing sent to try me ‘Now the bloody phone won’t work either!’ sort of thing. Who is one supposed to ring? The only number I know for the police is 999, and even I had to accept this incident couldn’t really be classed as an emergency.

I was right at the point where traffic joined the M1 at Junction 12. ‘Why?’ I thought to myself, ‘Could this not have happened just before the exit to junction 12?’ But as I thought that I also thought, ‘If I’m at the point where traffic comes onto the motorway at Junction 12, that means I am practically at Toddington Services.’ I looked up and there was, not a third of a mile away, the service station. Now whether or not it was the right thing to do or not I have no idea, but what I decided to do was to limp along the hard shoulder to the service station and see if I could ask someone to help me change the tyre (for which read do it for me).

I think this is the moment when I should mention that the time of this mishap was half past four in the afternoon. I mention this because at half past four in the afternoon one would not normally expect to encounter what I encountered next.

I pulled up round the back of the petrol station area next to a rather dilapidated looking coach, but not before I had run the gauntlet of a group of around 8 or 9 young men. All of them were dressed in either pirate costume or in sailor gear. All of them were drinking. One of them was urinating in the middle of the forecourt. I had been planning to ask if they could help me, but decided that wasn’t such a great idea.

A lorry driver came to my aid. A further nasty moment was experienced when the wrench he needed to get the wheel off was missing from where it was supposed to be, but thankfully we did eventually find that under my car’s back seat. But in the meantime more and more drunken sailors were appearing – men and women – and things were getting somewhat out of hand.

One pirate captain came over, three quarters empty bottle of what looked like nasty cheap sherry in his hand. ‘What’ he slurred ‘seems to be the problem?’ With this he sat down on the edge of my boot, which was open where we’d removed the spare tyre. And then he fell backwards into my boot, whereupon he appeared to pass out. I don’t think that the lorry driver who had been kind enough to help me could ever have imagined that his assistance would extend to physically evicting a drunken pirate from my boot, but that is what he ended up doing.

By the time the wheel was changed the scene around my car was beginning to resemble Sodom and Gomorrah. Two couples were all but shagging at the side of the coach (I imagine their coach driver may well have been refusing to take them any further), a stark bollock naked man was wandering round my car, whilst another two were modest enough to have only stripped to their boxers. Another was by now down to his fish net body suit, which in my opinion as a keen observer of fashion was not a good choice. Someone else was throwing up over some poor sods car, and another thought it was amusing to stand in front of a lorry attempting to get to the fuel and make out as if he was pushing it backwards. Where security was, remained an open and unanswered question.

I now know how people who live in places like Majorca and Ibiza must feel when they are exposed to the Brits Abroad..... Absolutely bloody disgusted.

The lorry driver was a star though.

April already

2010-04-06T10:51:00.005+01:00

Time for a bit of a round up of recent weeks.

Reidski and I had a couple of nights in Brighton. This was risky. Brighton and me = terrible weather. The last time we went there it was during the summer of 2006 which strange to relate was an absolutely scorching hot summer. The day we set off for Brighton the sun was up, the sky was a vivid blue and it was already hot at 8 in the morning. Car windows down all the way there, and looking forward to a lazy day sunbathing. Except that as we passed the sign welcoming us to Brighton we had to put the car windows up - being as how it had turned cold and grey and wet. Sunny and hot outside Brighton, freezing cold inside Brighton. And that was not the first time I had put a climate curse on the place.

The other week we again travelled down in beautiful sunshine, stopping en route at the very lovely Sheffield Park gardens

(please note the blue sky) and the equally lovely in a different way Griffin Inn nearby.

This time we get into Brighton in bright sunshine but this abnormality is corrected by the time we get to our sea front hotel and our room with a sea view that hasn't actually GOT a sea view owing to the thick sea mist. It was terrible. We were forced to go to another pub to drown our sorrows.

In fact for the rest of our time in Brighton the weather was fine and we had a great time hanging out. Can especially recommend Cuckmere Haven for a great walk down to the coast and the first of the Seven Sisters cliffs.

Oh - and the Basketmakers Arms obviously - a tremendous proper pub.

Last Wednesday night I was with my daughter and we were just walking up a flight of stairs as you do, when we passed Elton John going in the opposite direction, as you generally don't. If I said I completely and utterly kept my cool at this 'Oh my God! ELTON JOHN!' moment I would be lying. In fact I tripped up over the next stair but hopefully everyone else was too busy thinking 'Oh my God! ELTON JOHN!!!!' to have noticed.

In fact, much as I would love to say I am in the habit of being in the same place at the same time as ELTON JOHN, it wasn't - on reflection - so very surprising he was where I was last Wednesday. I have mentioned before that my daughter is the biggest fan of Billy Elliot the Musical in the world (if you exclude the weirdo single men who have seen practically every performance of it - and what's all that about anyway????) and last Wednesday was the 5th Birthday of the show. An event we Could Not Miss. At least - not if I wanted my daughter to love me for ever. Elton John wrote the music.

Last night she and I went to the theatre again - this time in Northampton and to see 'The Woman in Black' which is currently touring the UK and can also be seen in the West End. My daughter had seen it in the West End with her school and really wanted me to see it too. Me who can't even watch a corny Christopher Lee vampire movie. I don't do scary. Anyway , briefly my daughter said the West End production was scarier - but all I can say is thank god I didn't see that then. Last night's was quite frightening enough thank you very much.

Oh - and the rather large lady behind me broke her chair. Poor woman.

Had a great walk round St James on Good Friday with Reidski seeing where the rich people shop. £200 for a shaving brush anyone? Or a shirt for £400? How about a pair of made especially to fit your feet shoes for price unspecified - if you have to ask you can't afford it.

We also finally saw 'An Education'. Loved it. Loved her. Hated him.

I loved the new Dr Who Matt Smith too. Likely to be the most famous person ever to come from Northampton. And no - that's NOT the only reason I liked him so much!

And finally - football. Will we? Won't we? Make the Play Offs that is.

Not if yesterday's lack lustre nil nil against the mighty Torquay is anything to go by. Losing our best player to injury wasn't very helpful for the cause either...... :-(

I have gone on far too long people.

Over and out.

Stuff and Nonsense

2010-03-24T10:21:00.002Z

I’m not very new age. In fact I am deeply cynical.

Regardless of that though – I like having a foot massage as much as the next person and have twice in my life had reflexology. Very nice too, and I have to admit, quite fascinating in that both times the therapists were able to tell me all about my little aches and pains just through feeling my foot. In fact a friend of mine who has been trained in this showed me how my ankle has a bump which is the link from my foot to my womb, but she has in the same place a dip – having had a hysterectomy some years ago. Strange huh?

Anyway, all that is by the by because where I work they have something called Make the Most of Mondays, and at lunchtimes we get the chance to participate in what are usually fitness based sessions like yoga or Pilates. I’ve never bothered before but a few weeks ago the notification that came round mentioned reflexology so I applied, and to my delight I was offered a place for it.

The session was on Monday just gone. I went along but what a blow! It was immediately apparent that I was not after all going to get my foot massage, but was there to learn how to do it....to someone else.

It was fairly clear from a quick reading of the body language of the other women there that I was not the only one under the false impression that had brought me there.

Now, I have no objection to massaging the feet of my nearest and dearest, even though a particular Scotsman of my close acquaintance can’t cope with it for more than about ten seconds at a time (shame), but did I want to get my hands on the foot of a complete stranger? I rather thought ‘not’.

The stereotypical hippy type woman who was there to instruct us in the ancient art of reflexology launched in with a list of contra-indications for reflexology. She probably didn’t need to tell me that verrucas and athlete’s foot were two of those, but she did. In fact she kept mentioning them and I was feeling increasingly squeamish. Then she got us together in a group of three all set to start manhandling each others feet, and none of us looking too chuffed at the prospect. Whether our vibes were strong, or whether it would have been bleeding obvious to anyone our instructor thankfully did get the message and announced that whilst not as effective it is possible to do reflexology on hands – and even better – one can do it on one’s own hand. “Would you” she enquired, “prefer to try it that way?” A collective sigh of relief was the only reply necessary.

So on to the next stage and she was showing us how to move our fingers across various parts of our hand that allegedly correspond with another body part. She was quick to suggest we didn’t press too hard on the colon part. She told us that when a reflexologist locates a potential problem area they will feel a little lump almost like a grain of salt, or a piece of bubble wrap. Now I have had a problem area for several weeks now – the left hand side of my neck has been really stiff and has actually been waking me up in the night. Very annoying. Having ascertained that the part of my hand that corresponds to my neck is the bottom of my thumb I set about locating said grain of salt or piece of bubble wrap. Did I find it? Course I did not. But I did keep rubbing the bottom of my thumb more through lack of interest in any of the rest of what Hippy Lady had to say than through any expectation of locating my problem neck via my hand – if that makes sense.

As I came away I sent Reidski a text to say the session had been a complete waste of time.

It was only some hours later that I noticed something was missing. That something was the pain in my neck. And as we all know, not having a pain in the neck is A Good Thing.

And I haven’t had a pain in the neck since.

Very, very odd.

Some great news!

2010-03-14T21:00:00.002Z

Front page of the Metro paper in Friday morning, and a journalist who one supposes is paid for her writing ability tells us:

'Women who took the contraceptive (pill) are 12 per cent less likely to die compared to those who have never taken it.'

I'm 12% less likely to die! Superb!

I could really do with a bit of help on this one....

2010-03-11T11:48:00.002Z

I have very reluctantly been dragged into the current neurosis of my sister’s (soon to be ex) boyfriend. I became involved because I learnt that he was continually sending my 12 year old niece messages and texts in which he kept asking her not to tell her mum, but he had various things he wanted to say to my niece, or to ask her about. Not surprisingly she was distressed by these and didn’t know what she should do, but then he sent a message to my daughter who immediately told me. I then spoke to my niece and subsequently told my sister’s STBEB to back off and stop sending these messages. That was about six weeks ago. I told my niece to tell me if she got any more. I said nothing to my sister at the time hoping that the issue was resolved. That was a mistake.

A couple of days ago my niece told me she had received another message and she copied it to me. The gist of this message was ‘Please stop telling your friends I’m a pervert.’ She strenuously denied having ever said such a thing and I relayed that message to the STBEB who then said he had sent me a message via Facebook.

In fact he sent me way more than one message, and I could not believe what I was seeing. First of all he sent me word for word of a MSN conversation my niece had had with a school friend telling him that the STBEB had seen her getting out the shower. I knew from my talk with her before about that, and was as confident as I could be that it was purely accidental and embarrassing and difficult for them both. She never used the word ‘pervert’ but obviously at that point I could see why he was concerned, but what I could NOT understand was how the hell he came to have the transcript of this conversation so I asked him. This word for word was his first response:

The laptop which she uses, gets spyware notifications which keep happening in Msn chat ... when it shows the scan it points to where it is so you can remove it from the pc.... it was within her logs in between convo's....but you have to scroll down to remove where they come in...very techy ...

I hadn’t a clue what he meant. And then he sent me MORE transcripts of conversations my niece has had, but these were Facebook supposedly private chats. I was speechless by this time and not because of what I was reading. I asked him if my sister had asked him to monitor my niece’s use of the internet to which he replied:

No, it hasn’t been monitored at all. i was just clearing the spyware again using avg ... like last year, so it hasn't been monitored at all... this stuff only appeared whilst cleaning up the folders again about 3 weeks ago

At this point I cut off communicating with him, wondered what the hell I was supposed to do, and knew that of course I had to speak to my sister about the fact that her STBEB was as far as I could see spying on her daughter.

I spoke with her last night. I thought she would explode with anger, but in the event I can only describe her reaction as one of pure shock. I said to her though that she had to prevent her STBEB having any access to her computer and she said he doesn’t have any. But I knew he had done ‘fixing’ jobs on it before and said that he must have done something about three weeks ago – he’d told me as much himself. She said that in fact he had, but she had been sitting next to him at the time, and that it was impossible for him to have gone into any of this stuff, let alone copied it because she was right there all the time. However, the fact remains that a conversation he copied to me was dated 10th February this year.

Now neither my sister nor I have the tiniest bit of knowledge about how computers actually work but it seems to me that somehow he has gained access to my sister’s computer. Is there anyone reading this who might know how on earth he could have done this, and most importantly, how can we ensure that any access he has got is stopped? If anyone can help me I would be massively grateful if you could either explain it in the comments here, or e-mail me on cobblerjane@yahoo.co.uk.

And as a matter of interest do people think we should tell the police?

Last Tuesday

2010-03-08T10:42:00.003Z

I was set on a leisurely start to my day. No need to rush into the office and so a nice soak in the bath seemed in order.

The bath was run and awaited me with lots of lovely scented bubbles making it especially inviting. I was just about to jump in when the phone rang..... My eldest son to say he had had a car crash.

All that matters in this story is that he was fine. He skidded on black ice on a country road and a tree stump that got hit took its revenge by ensuring his car was a write off. I repeat - he was fine.

Somehow he was able to drive the car home. When I saw him coming up the drive I thought it didn't look too bad - but I was wrong. Up close it was very bad indeed.

My bath had gone cold by this time so I gave up on that as a bad job and got ready for work, but not before getting the washing out the machine to start drying it. A tissue had gone in the wash too. It was clearly one of those days.

It was also my sodding birthday :-(

Michael Foot

2010-03-03T14:08:00.000Z

A great tribute from Gordon Brown:

Michael Foot was a man of deep principle and passionate idealism and one of the most eloquent speakers Britain has ever heard.

He was an indomitable figure who always stood up for his beliefs and whether people agreed with him or not they admired his character and his steadfastness.

The respect he earned over a long life of service means that across our country today people, no matter their political views, will mourn the passing of a great and compassionate man.

All his life, Michael campaigned and fought for the ideals he believed in. I remember fondly my time with him and Jill Craigie, the love of his life - they both inspired me with their passion and kindness. They leave behind so many people whose grief overwhelms us today.

While Michael was a brilliant thinker – a first rate journalist and a celebrated biographer – he always knew that for the people and causes he had entered politics to represent, the Commons was not simply a forum for debate but the theatre of change.

As Leader of the Labour Party in the most difficult circumstances he was a respected and unifying figure who sought to steer it through turbulent times. And his record as a Labour minister and champion of working men and women will always be a tribute to his convictions and a source of pride - leading through Parliament the Health and Safety at Work Act.

He served the communities of Plymouth and Ebbw Vale with distinction. But Michael wasn't just a great parliamentarian - a historian, a journalist and an author, he showed the same skill as one of the youngest editors of a national newspaper in his twenties as he did when writing articles and books well into his nineties.

A founder member of CND, he is often remembered for being a self-proclaimed "inveterate peace-monger" although his determination to break the rise of Fascism in Europe in the 1940s was demonstrated in his hugely influential book, "Guilty Men".

A lifelong Plymouth Argyle fan who continued attending Home Park well into his 90s, his love of his football club mirrored his love of the Labour Party: sticking by the Pilgrims through thick and thin, no one could ever doubt his loyalty and determination to see them reach the summit of success.

We will never forget his good humour, his passion and above all his enduring values and determination to fight for them - as, one of his favourite poets, Shelley proclaims "Ye are many — they are few".

Michael Foot was a genuine British radical - one who possessed a powerful sense of community, a pride in our progressive past and faith in our country's potential for a radical future.

You what?

2010-03-01T13:30:00.002Z

Reidski has an on going problem with MY hearing. My hearing isn't as sharp as what it used to be, and that added to the occasional complication of a Scottish accent can lead to me being rather irritating, what with my inability at times to hear what on earth he is saying.

Anyway, on Saturday morning I happened to say to him that my ear felt (not for the first time recently once I had thought about it) like it needed popping. He instructed me in the art of blowing down my nose to pop my ear - but that made not a scrap of difference. I forgot about my ear and we went out for the day. In fact we went to Paradise, by way of a location in West London, but that's getting away from the Tale of J'J's ear, which I am sure has you all riveted to your seats. (Whaddya mean 'No!'??)

The following morning and the two of us are having breakfast. I happened to touch my ear and felt something actually inside my ear. I thought one of my earrings must have come out and jammed in my ear so I fiddled around with the item in my ear before producing - not the biggest lump of ear wax ever seen as Reidski not unnaturally assumed he was looking at when I first brandished the item in his face but - an olive stone.

Now if anyone has any suggestions whatsoever as to how on earth I did at some point in my life manage to get an olive stone in my ear I would be delighted to hear it. Not that I could have heard it whilst the olive stone was lodged in my ear of course.

And how long has it bloody well been there?????

Totally and utterly inexplicable.

No wonder I have been having trouble with my hearing.

A question of geography

2010-02-26T12:23:00.000Z

Listening to late night radio the other day, I heard an extract from the American "Celebrity" edition of the show "So you think you're smarter than a fifth-grader" (better known in the UK as "So you think you're smarter than a ten year old"). The celebrity in question, Miss X who had, I understand, recently come third in America's version of "The X factor", was asked the question "Of which country in Budapest the capital?". Her thought process in attempting an answer, ran as follows:

"I think they speak French there. (pause) I'm gonna say France. (pause) Is France a country?"

I may be mistaken, but I believe she is from Iowa.

The following day, again on the radio, was a discussion about Sarah Palin, discussing whether she may re-emerge as a serious future Presidential candidate. In discussing her fitness for office the following facts were revealed:

She had no idea that there was a North Korea and a South Korea.
She thought Africa was a country.
She believes gay people can (and should) be "cured".
She has inspired a country music song........

.... part of which they played and which was such a bag of sychophantic horse-shite that it would have been vomit-inducing even if it had not been presented in the country format.

The first question to arise from all of this: Is geography a subject not particularly valued in the States? I have caught some of series 4 of the Wire which is based around the education system, but I can not recollect seeing a geography class at all. Or in High School Musical.

The second question: Given that America is a super-power and given the fact of globalisation, is it acceptable that, for the purposes of choosing it's leader, it has adopted a system in which a/ Miss X has a vote and b/ Sarah Palin may be a candidate?

Would it not be preferable to adopt a new system to elect American Presidents, one in which all the citizens of the world who can demonstrate they are likely to be affected by decisions made in America had a vote so long as firstly, they can name at least three continents with no mistakes and, secondly, they think broadly the same as I do about all other matters?

The new world order system could be rolled out to all emerging superpowers (China next, I think) in order to maintain stability and good sense.

I have today written to my own Member of Parliament to ask him whether he is aware that Africa is a continent.

Otherwise for the benefit of Miss X:

Budapest is the capital of Hungary and is not to be confused with Bucharest, the capital of Romania.
France is, indeed, a country.
The capital of France is Paris.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

2010-02-12T15:23:00.005Z

That which I could not mention has now been resolved, although I am still fuming that this particular piece of nonsense took seven weeks to sort out.

My son, D, works as a trainee manager for a well known supermarket chain. By all accounts he is highly thought of and popular with customers and staff alike. He had also met the love of his life through working in his particular store as she also works there part time. Since he met her he has not so far as I am aware looked twice at another female – and has in fact been known to row with his younger brother if in his opinion his brother was being too friendly with another female because his brother is also in a long term relationship and D is firmly of the opinion that you must never flirt with anyone else when you have a Significant Other.

So therefore it was, to say the least, something of a shock to us all when D, was suspended from work two days before Christmas (a Wednesday) due to two young girls alleging he had sexually harassed them.

On the Tuesday evening D had been working and these two girls were supposed to have been stacking some shelves. Over the course of the evening, D kept having to speak to them about their complete lack of progress. I gather they did not take kindly to being told their work was not acceptable.

The next day D went to work as usual, but was summoned to the office and told serious allegations had been made against him. He was suspended on full pay until a hearing set for 6th January.

Naturally he was absolutely distraught, but his major fear at first was not that he might loose his job, but that he might loose his girlfriend. Luckily she knew him well enough to know at once that it was all lies, and an attempt to get back at him for the words that were exchanged on the previous night.

Now of course D is my son, and I love him dearly, and we all hear mothers of vile men announce to the world at large that they know their son and he would not do whatever it happens to be that he stands accused of. I would always defend him even when I might fear he had done wrong. In this instance though I did not for a single second consider there could be any truth in this at all and I never doubted that that would be proven to be the case. I was however incandescent with rage that such allegations had been made, although I understood why the store had to suspend him pending investigation of the claims.

What I suspect is that the girls aim was to cause trouble between D and his girlfriend. This suspicion was somewhat enhanced when the first thing one of them did was to contact D’s girlfriend via Facebook to detail in gory detail what D had been doing to her. I don’t think they had the faintest idea that their accusations would lead to a major investigation which would eventually lead to practically every member of staff being interviewed by Head Office employees.

I told D to just treat it as unexpected paid holiday over Christmas, and to try and put it to the back of his mind. Easy for me to say of course, but we did succeed in having a good time over the Festive Season, whilst mentally crossing off the days till 6th January when all would be resolved.

Expect that on the 6th January we had snow. We had so much snow the guy charged with doing the investigation could not get to the store to see D and the meeting was cancelled.

I will not go into detail about what caused further delays but they included sickness, incompetence and holidays. Finally – this Wednesday just gone -D was told that he was completely exonerated, not a scrap of evidence having been unearthed to show that he had done the things they alleged, or even that any other colleagues considered him capable of acting in such a manner.

It might be supposed that as the investigation dragged on and on I might have had second thoughts about whether there was in fact a shred of truth in what they said D got up to but I never did. Partly I never did because I know D, but a major part of why I never doubted him was because of the words of the girls themselves.

In written statements and in their Facebook exchanges with his girlfriend they declared that there was a pattern to his behaviour and that the sexual harassment which began about last September always occurred on a Tuesday.

The Tuesday of the dispute over the shelf stacking was the only Tuesday D had worked for the past six months.

Oh, and on Wednesday but before he had heard that he was fully cleared, he had a call from the manager of another store who had heard what had been going on (what price confidentiality eh?), but thought it was a load of shit, and asked D if he would consider coming to work as his deputy (ie, a promotion from his current role) and with better shifts that he has been working at his store. Not surprisingly, D has accepted his offer.

Suggestions for Valentine's Day.

2010-02-08T19:51:00.004Z

Moving on to the subject of romance - what with it being in the air and all that, if you are really lost for an original Valentine's Day gesture, how about wining and dining her at the Northampton/Aldershot match for a mere £99.00 for the two of you? If you think that sounds a bit expensive do keep in mind that it includes a cash bar in the price - generous huh?

But if you think that's bad, Reidski is threatening to get me a brick.

He received this tempting offer from Celtic:

Hello Reidski from Celtic Football Club
Are you looking for an unusual gift for yourself or your loved one?
If the answer is yes, then look no further! Celtic Football Club are offering you the chance to buy a limited edition porcelain brick in the tunnel!
A unique gift that lasts for years and that any Celtic fan will be proud to own. Very limited, very exclusive and very memorable. Be with the Bhoys as they stand shoulder to shoulder readying themselves to take on the best of the rest.
As part of your limited edition brick package you will receive a free adult tour ticket with a full paying adult tour ticket to enable you to see your brick once it is up.

AND ONLY £120!!!!

2010-02-08T12:28:00.003Z

I haven’t mentioned football much recently. As you may recall I did not buy a season ticket this year and have only actually attended two games this season – both of which were entirely dreadful. I’ve actually quite enjoyed the sensation of not having the majority of my life organised around the necessity of going to the football.

I was far from being the only person who did not renew their season ticket after the debacle that was The Cobblers 2008-2009 season, but of course a club needs its season ticket holders to underpin all its financial planning and to give credit where it’s due, it does seem some time and imagination has been spent by the club wondering how it may win us disillusioned fans back.

I have received this from the club.

If I purchase a season ticket before 31st March I get a free holiday. Flights not included but nevertheless a week’s self catering in Tenerife or Spain could be mine just for the outlay on the ticket.

There has to be a catch I thought to myself. And of course there is the fairly obvious one......

You have to watch the Cobblers play 23 times next season :-)

Genuine extracts

2010-01-26T11:30:00.003Z

from a file I am working on written between 1960 and 1962:

"Mrs M (foster carer) is very depressed because she is trying to get her weight down, and after a month on a Swedish Milk diet, instead of a minimum weight loss of 7 lbs as they advertise, she has actually gained 12lbs and is now over 15 stone for the first time in her life."

"Mrs C had been spending a great deal of time at the hospital recently as Trevor (son aged 4) drank a bottle of turpentine last week."

"Gill M went for the money last Saturday and went back and told her mother that Sharon was doing the lodgers bedrooms, dressed only in panties and bra and a short dressing gown without any fastenings, Mrs M said sourly if that’s how she was earning her money she could afford to pay more for Mickey (foster child)."

"She started all over again to tell me what a greatly wronged woman she is, but just then two detectives arrived to see her so I left."

Hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Technical hitch

2010-01-26T11:11:00.002Z

I can't actually access my own blog from the computer I use most of the time anymore. I don't know if it was my reference to a vibrator wot dun it, but whilst I can post things to it(at least I think I can - will soon find out) I can't reply to comments, and browsing all your blogs is problematic too.

A PAIN.

Anyway, just wanted to say that the matter which should have been resolved on 6th January still hasn't been settled due to a quite extraordinary mixture of snow, illness and incompetence. Enough to say by the time it is settled an enormous rant will be appearing from me on the subject.

Anyone interested in a second 'hand' rabbit at all?

2010-01-15T10:58:00.003Z

Is this the strangest list of stolen items ever?

The charge sheet alleges that the accused, one Fabrizio Martino, having entered as a trespasser a dwelling, stole therein food, drink, eggs, a bag of crisps, bin bag full of assorted children's toys, Lego building blocks and plastic toys. Bob the Builder toy, soft toys. Linen basket containing unwashed clothes . . . light bulb, grey broom, keys to flat and shed, scales, curtain pole,with dark brown leaf pattern.

After describing in detail four sex toys allegedly stolen by Martino, believed to be worth in excess of £100, the list then goes on: "Yellow JCB digger, jigsaw piece*, yellow quad bike toy of value unknown."

* Just the one! How very annoying.

Just my bad luck

2010-01-04T11:15:00.002Z

Been stuck here since New Year's Eve.

Sheer hell.

So wish I was back at work instead but what with being surrounded by 7 foot snow drifts what can one do but turn to (yet more) drink?

Happy Two Thousand and Ten (as I have decided it definitely is to be called).

Ho Ho Bloody Ho

2009-12-24T14:24:00.003Z

Hopefully early in the New Year I will be able to relate a good news story related to something that happened yesterday. At the moment though I am not going to mention the truly shit thing that happened yesterday because I am a) trying not to think about it, and b) am convinced that come the New Year the whole nasty story will have gone away - along, I sincerely hope, with the low life that have created this current shit. Enough to say that bad things happen to good people but I am sure it is just a temporary setback and I'll be damned if I let it ruin Christmas for my family.

So just to wish anyone who has been crazy enough to continue to visit your frequently neglectful hostess here a Very Happy Christmas and New Year.

And by the way - Will the New Year be Two thousand and ten or will it be Twenty ten? I need to know!

Christmas reading

2009-12-21T10:33:00.004Z

At one time I updated my reading list on this blog with regularity, but these days as I seem to have more of a life that has fallen by the wayside. There have been a few books I have read recently that I have really enjoyed. One was 'American Wife' by Curtis Sittenfeld which is about the life of a woman, politically a liberal, who somehow ends up as the First Lady married to a deeply unpopular right wing American president who takes the country into an illegal war. Now who could that be based upon I wonder? The book was full of surprises, it made me literally laugh out loud on a crowded train, and it made me cry as well, as cringe at the thought of George W having sex. Confessing that she voted for his Democratic opponent in the presidential election our heroine comments: 'During the periods when I've been the most frustrated by our lives, or by what is happening in this country, I've looked outside at the cars and pedestrians our motorcades pass and I've thought, All I did is marry him. You are the ones who gave him power.' Anyway - loved that.

Also loved, loved, loved both 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' and 'The Girl who Played with Fire' by Stieg Larsson. Clever stuff indeed and I cannot wait for the third and sadly final book in the series ( seeing as how Larsson only went and died before he could write more - some people are so inconsiderate!) to arrive via Amazon in the next day or two.

And that brings me to my problem. Last year at Christmas found me wading my way through 'War and Peace'. The previous Christmas I landed myself with 'Schindler's Ark'. Both of those are obviously great books - but a barrel of laughs they generally ain't, give or take one or two lines in Tolstoy. This year - why oh why oh why - I find myself stuck with 'The Name of the Rose' by Umberto Eco. Yeah gods it is such hard going! It makes me feel like I am really intellectually challenged/ aka thick. I'm celebrating a small triumph this morning though.

At the heading of each chapter Eco gives a short breakdown of what to expect in the coming pages along the lines of 'In which Adso looks at a church door (and describes it for five and a half interminable pages) and William has an intellectual conversation about whether men of God should laugh (which continues, mainly in Latin, for ever as far as I can see).' (Comments in brackets are mine.) Anyway - my small triumph is that I have just read Chapter 11 'In which Jane practically understood what went on for the first time since she picked the book up'. It's a nightmare.

BUT - Reidski has a hard and fast rule that when one starts to read a book one has to finish it - no matter how shite it is (unless it is something by Dan Brown of course), and no matter how difficult. If I finish this blasted book I will feel a sense of achievement; never mind that I have no expectations whatsoever of understanding it. A quick straw poll of some of my clever friends has yet to yield anyone who managed to stick with this book to the end. And in the post - any day now - will arrive a book I am desperate to read. So dear readers - what will I do? Abandon 'The Name of the Rose' for something readable, knowing full well I will never return to find out who is behind the mass murders that took place in an Italian monastery in the early thirteenth century, or do I plough on with the promise of 'The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest' as a reward for doing Eco? Is my will power strong enough to resist one and stick with the other? I very much doubt it. Christmas Day really should surely be about easy reading, but it does look as though for the third year in a row my reading may be just about turning pages as quickly as possible for all the wrong reasons.

Have made note to self not to start any difficult or depressing book next Decemeber time.

Health & Safety and Equality Considerations for Christmas Songs

2009-12-17T15:27:00.003Z

Not my own work I am afraid - but I enjoyed these:

The Rocking Song

Little Jesus, sweetly sleep, do not stir;
We will lend a coat of fur,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you

Fur is no longer appropriate wear for small infants, both due to risk of allergy to animal fur, and for ethical reasons. Therefore faux fur, a nice cellular blanket or perhaps micro-fleece material should be considered a suitable alternative.

Please note, only persons who have been subject to a Criminal Records Bureau check and have enhanced clearance will be permitted to rock baby Jesus. Persons must carry their CRB disclosure with them at all times and be prepared to provide three forms of identification before rocking commences.

Jingle Bells
Dashing through the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way

A risk assessment must be submitted before an open sleigh is considered safe for members of the public to travel on. The risk assessment must also consider whether it is appropriate to use only one horse for such a venture, particularly if passengers are of larger proportions. Please note, permission must be gained from landowners before entering their fields. To avoid offending those not participating in celebrations, we would request that laughter is moderate only and not loud enough to be considered a noise nuisance.

While Shepherds Watched

While shepherds watched
Their flocks by night
All seated on the ground
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around

The union of Shepherd's has complained that it breaches health and safety regulations to insist that shepherds watch their flocks without appropriate seating arrangements being provided, therefore benches, stools and orthopaedic chairs are now available. Shepherds have also requested that due to the inclement weather conditions at this time of year that they should watch their flocks via cctv cameras from centrally heated shepherd observation huts.
Please note, the angel of the lord is reminded that before shining his / her glory all around she / he must ascertain that all shepherds have been issued with glasses capable of filtering out the harmful effects of UVA, UVB and Glory.

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.

You are advised that under the Equal Opportunities for All policy, it is inappropriate for persons to make comment with regard to the ruddiness of any part of Mr. R. Reindeer. Further to this, exclusion of Mr R Reindeer from the Reindeer Games will be considered discriminatory and disciplinary action will be taken against those found guilty of this offence. A full investigation will be implemented and sanctions - including suspension on full pay - will be considered whilst this investigation takes place.

Little Donkey

Little donkey, little donkey on the dusty road
Got to keep on plodding onwards with your precious load

The RSPCA have issued strict guidelines with regard to how heavy a load that a donkey of small stature is permitted to carry, also included in the guidelines is guidance regarding how often to feed the donkey and how many rest breaks are required over a four hour plodding period. Please note that due to the increased risk of pollution from the dusty road, Mary and Joseph are required to wear face masks to prevent inhalation of any airborne particles. The donkey has expressed his discomfort at being labelled 'little' and would prefer just to be simply referred to as Mr. Donkey. To comment upon his height or lack thereof may be considered an infringement of his equine rights.

We Three Kings

We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star

Whilst the gift of gold is still considered acceptable - as it may be redeemed at a later date through such organisations as 'cash for gold' etc, gifts of frankincense and myrrh are not appropriate due to the potential risk of oils and fragrances causing allergic reactions. A suggested gift alternative would be to make a donation to a worthy cause in the recipients name or perhaps give a gift voucher. We would not advise that the traversing kings rely on navigation by stars in order to reach their destinations and suggest the use of RAC routefinder or satellite navigation, which will provide the quickest route and advice regarding fuel consumption. Please note as per the guidelines from the RSPCA for Mr Donkey, the camels carrying the three kings of Orient will require regular food and rest breaks.
Facemasks for the three kings are also advisable due to the likelihood of dust from the camels hooves.

Away in a Manger No Crib for a bed - Contact Social services???????

More local news

2009-12-11T14:34:00.002Z

This time from Ayrshire.

Reidski assures me this is actually the lead headline in this week's paper. What I especially like about this story is not only its content which is clearly local news at its best - 'Man grows record breaking moustache' - but more than that - the moustache was shaved off on 1st December and the paper doesn't actually have a photograph of it. Therefore we all have to imagine what Mikey Hughes record breaking moustache looked like. In fact they don't even have a photo of what he looks like without the record breaking moustache so we will have to imagine that too.

Of course it could be I suppose that everyone in Ayrshire knows what Mikey Hughes looks like and not expecting a wider readership for this story thought a photo was surplus to requirements?

Times are hard

2009-12-06T21:42:00.003Z

But even so, Northampton's Christmas lights leave a bit to be desired....

To be precise if the photo isn't very clear it leaves 'HRISTMAS and MPTON' to be desired.

Sums the place up quite well really.

Something to make us all feel better

2009-11-26T13:30:00.002Z

One of the latest pictures of the previously cojoined twins Trishna and Krishna. They are reported to be sitting up, sleeping in separate beds, and seeing each other for the first time as they continue their recovery from a massive separation surgery.

Those smiles have reduced me to an emotional wreck.

If you thought

2009-11-23T22:04:00.002Z

that calling Newcastle United's ground The sportsdirect.com@St James' Park Stadium was silly (which it goes without saying it is) how about this?

At the football on Saturday we were informed at the end of the first half that: "The fourth official has indicated that there will be a minimum of two minutes injury time. This message was brought to you in association with Jackson Grundy (local estate agents), sponsors of the Cobblers."

Oh, for goodness sake.

Spoiler alert with a difference

2009-11-19T14:14:00.003Z

If you don't want to know what is about to happen in Coronation Street beware the Daily Mail, who manage to spoil the plot with their spoiler alert.

That takes a certain kind of genius.

In for him, in for him, we've all got it in for him

2009-11-19T13:40:00.002Z

'I will be honest, the ball hit my hand,' admitted Henry later.

My cats

2009-11-16T14:29:00.002Z

I have two cats. The oldest one George is evil. I think this photo captures him quite well.

His not so endearing way of asking for food is to take a chunk out of my ankles in order to get my attention. I have to admit that does tend to get him noticed. All my visitors are terrified of him - and even my family treat him with a great deal of circumspection.

Sophie on the other hand is universally adored. She is a very appealing little cat - who aged 6 is still the size of a kitten (George is the size of the back end of a bus) and she is very affectionate to one and all.

George hates her guts, obviously seeing her as a total creep.

It is however Sophie who is this week in disgrace. First of all she walked over the home baked apple and blackcurrant pie made for yesterday's Sunday dinner, leaving two paw sized holes in it....then she bloody well sat on it.

Local news headline

2009-11-13T15:40:00.004Z

"Three pizzas stolen by armed gang."

I probably shouldn't find this funny as after all some poor guy was robbed at knife point, but that would seem to be less news worthy to the writer of this piece than the fact that three pizzas were nicked.

So annoying

2009-11-06T15:03:00.005Z

It has been 'one of those days' for me. It began with me up and planning a bath before work only to find that - inexplicably - the bath plug was missing. I searched high and low for the plug, but without success. I can think of no reason why such an item should take its self off of its own accord. How annoying. Anyway, I had therefore to have a shower which of itself is annoying as the shower head at its highest is only shoulder height to me and I have to stoop under it. Further annoyance was caused when I went to Homebase to buy a replacement bath plug and it took fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, which was made up from minutes spent looking for a plug on own without success and minutes spent looking for a member of staff who could help me find a plug - also without success. Where have all the Homebase staff gone? Long time passing....

When eventually a bath plug was located I was further annoyed by how much money they wanted for such a basic item. Who knew one could pay as much as £9.58 for a bath plug?

Next I went to Tesco wanting a piece of salmon weighing about 600 grams to be cooked 'en croute', but the fishmonger only had ready cut pieces weighing at most 125 grams,and was unable (or unwilling) to cut into a whole salmon so that I could have what I wanted. Very annoying and meant an immediate 'think on feet and change of plan' on the culinary side, which also meant I no longer wanted half of the items I had in my trolley and had to put them back. Tonight though I am cooking something else down at Reidski's which requires a particular quite unusual spice which I already possess. How annoying then that I have just realised I have left the damn stuff at home and won't have time to go back and collect it.

But now I have read this and instead of feeling rather annoyed, I am instead rather amused.

Have a good - and completely unannoying - weekend everyone.

P.S What was REALLY annoying was when I got home with my new bath plug to see the old one sitting on the edge of the bath right next to the taps. GRRRRRR!!!!!!

Outfits and red flowers

2009-11-03T13:00:00.012Z

My few days away on the Gower peninsular were spent with my sister, her 12 year old daughter and my daughter who is now 16. What they have in common, which I do not share, is a love of the X Factor. (Strictly Come Dancing every time for me - though I have hardly managed to see any of the current series due mainly to the fact that it clashes with Simon Cowell and co.)

The weekend was dominated by concern over the tele in the cabin we were staying at - it was a little temperamental and what WOULD we do if it went wrong during their programme?, and whether whatever we did would leave us enough time to get back in good time for the show - which is on both Saturday and Sunday (not to mention numerous repeats and a gossipy type programme about it too). Anyway - upshot of all this is that I have gained a certain amount of knowledge about this year's X Factor, especially that weekend as it was unavoidable, but also over the other weeks it has been on.

First things first - have to say John and Edward MUST win. Obviously they are totally without talent, but the reason they must win - apart from Simon Cowell promising to leave the country if they do - is that my eldest put 20 quid on them to win when the odds were 66-1 against that eventuality. Think of what a great Christmas present I could be in for if they do in fact win and vote for them on that basis people (Never let it be said I am too proud to beg).

Naturally I thoroughly enjoyed the dress Cheryl Cole was wearing at the weekend.

What's not to love when a celebrity looks so daft? But what really made it for me was that as if the dress itself wasn't enough - she had to stick a poppy on it. Indeed there was clearly a three line whip on wearing a poppy even though it is not Remembrance Sunday till next week, and even Bon Jovi had to wear one. I thought it was silly - but now I have read that viewers of MY programme (ie the one I never get to watch but wish I could - SCD) are ringing up the BBC complaining that the dancers are not (shock horror) wearing poppies. When exactly did it happen that not wearing a poppy - whilst taking part in a dancing competition for goodness sake - became beyond the pale?

For the record, as a young leftie I had a problem with wearing a poppy, having been sold the line about it glorifying war blah blah, but when I had sons of my own and got to thinking about how so many families lost their own sons during the World Wars my attitude changed and I did start to buy one. I am rarely to be seen wearing one mind you, but that is solely due to the fact that I have never mastered the pinning them on securely part and I lose them over and again. It is probably a deliberate ploy on behalf of the poppy appeal organisers which ensures they makes a fortune out of people like me.

It seems that the wearing of a poppy competition is getting out of hand. I spotted my first one in September, but how long will it be before the politicians and broadcasters wear them all year round? (I have heard Nick Griffin does just that, but to me that is just another indication of what a twat he is.)

So let's be sensible about this. Cheryl Cole's 'interesting' creation did not need a poppy - nor does that fact that she wore one prove to me how deeply that particular young lady thinks about war and the pity of war. Nor should we have reached the stage where a celebrity whose ballroom dancing costume scarcely covers her bits anyway, needs to wear a poppy with the outfit as an illustration of her respect for our war dead. Before someone hideous like that awful David Duff (is he still around? One hopes not) turns up here to accuse me of not caring, I can't make it through a two minute silence without dissolving into tears, but I don't feel the need to wear a poppy every time I venture out the house to indicate the depth of my own feeling. And I would not actually have been offended if our so called nation's sweetheart, Mrs Cole had thought a poppy an ornamentation too far with that very entertaining dress.

What is the name for a collection of paedophiles?

2009-11-02T11:19:00.005Z

I know I have been somewhat remiss with this blog recently. Entirely unoriginal reasons for that so I will move swiftly on.

In the last two months I have been to China, New York and most recently, South Wales. I worked out that in the past twelve months I had actually been on four continents (Europe included which I only add because when I mentioned the four continents thing to my daughter she was at a total loss to think what the fourth one could be. I worry about her sometimes...) as it was just a year ago I was in Egypt. Totally amazing - and something I would never have imagined being able to say in my entire lifetime, let alone in the space of one year. I will return with highlights of those trips but for now something that has been playing on my mind this weekend.

Something else I could never imagine being able to say (or even wishing to be able to say) is that I have seen a certain musical* 9 times and counting. I don't even particularly like musicals as a general rule, but this has become a mother and daughter 'thing' for us, as my daughter is somewhat obsessed with the show. If I tell you that in the past few weeks her bedroom has been redecorated solely because she obtained two framed posters of the show, and her previous decor did not show them off to best effect, that may give some indication of the degree of her devotion to this show. She spends hours on the on line fans forum, and is pretty much a font of knowledge of All Things Billy.

Now I do realise 9 times to the same show must sound insane but this pales into insignificance against some of the other people on the fans forum, some of whom regularly see two performances on one day and have seen the show literally hundreds of times.

So who are these truly devoted fans of what they always refer to as BETM?

Well there are of course some young girls like my daughter who are captivated by the storyline, the music and the dancing, and of course by some of the young lads who play the title role. So far, so normal. BUT, and if I knew how to enlarge the font that BUT would have been a much larger BUT, then there is another category of fans and I experienced this group last Saturday night.

It so happened that last Saturday was the last performance of one of the Billy's. A very pretty 14 year old boy he is too. I reluctantly agreed that we could stay behind for a while after the show so that H could try and get a photo and/or an autograph. The signs for success looked good as there were not too many young girls waiting as well, but in the event we were thwarted in our mission . Whilst the young star did indeed come to the door prepared for photographs with fans and to write autographs the instant he appeared there was a stampede and we were just shoved unceremoniously out of the way. Not by other young girls I hasten to add, but by very dodgy looking single men who when I thought about it, had been lurking around in the shadows. These, as I soon learned, were the fanatical fans that see practically every show. Now maybe it is because I am a social worker that I am unable to think of any innocent reason why these particular individuals are so keen on this of all shows?

Not surprisingly the lad's chaperon got him back inside the theatre pretty damn quick.

That aside, if anyone has not seen this show and has the chance to go, it is simply breath taking, and I would recommend it to anyone. Thankfully it is possible to go and avoid the dirty mac brigade.

* The reasons for my reticence to actually name the show here is that on the previous occasions I have written about BE I have been swamped by visitors who search the net for all things Billy, and frankly I don't want perverts here.

This comes

2009-11-02T11:11:00.000Z

via Gill and is scarier than anything you may have spotted on Halloween.

Was I wrong

2009-10-29T13:39:00.001Z

to be embarrassed when whilst over in a pub in deepest rural Wales my sister asked for her chicken to be well done?

So

2009-10-17T23:39:00.001+01:00

true.

Giving a whole new meaning

2009-10-15T16:02:00.003+01:00

to the word 'Welcome'.

Much as I would hate to see their membership increase, I do actually quite like the idea of them facing a mountain of applications from black and ethnic minorities. The whites might end up being forced out :-)

Now

2009-10-09T16:57:00.003+01:00

this article really is a load of cobblers.

It seems that menstrual activism (otherwise known as radical menstruation, menstrual anarchy, or menarchy) is having a moment. We learn that recent activists are likely to dress up as a bloody tampon and perform a cheer: "Smear it on your face and rub it on your body, it's time to start a menstrual party!"

No one I know I hope.

It's been a big day in my life

2009-10-02T21:13:00.002+01:00

But a bigger day in the life J, my 18 year old son. He has started life as a student in Nottingham.

I have been pre-occupied since I returned from New York on Tuesday with his impending departure. On Wednesday lunchtime I went to get him some bits and pieces from Tescos and found myself choking back tears as I bought him tins of soup.

The whole house had been piled high with stuff to go and stuff to throw for the past week or so. I couldn't get along the upstairs corridor without scaling over some of his stuff. I've been back home now for nearly three hours and I can't yet face going upstairs as I am not ready for the clear corridor which means he doesn't live here anymore.

When we (me and his girlfriend) arrived at his place it was a flat for five residents but he was the first one there. Some four hours of queuing for various essential cards and passes later, his girlfriend and I had to leave but at that point he was still the only one there. I don't have the words to explain how terrible I felt as we drove away, me seeing him in my car mirror, thinking he was going to possibly be alone all night.

Thanks to the wonders that are mobile phones, texts arrived on our way home to say two lads had turned up and he was liking them both. I felt slightly better.

But now I am sitting here alone - both the other two are out working (another first this week in the case of my daughter)- and I keep picturing the chubby faced, blonde curly haired little cherub who old ladies used to coo over - and I can't understand where those years have gone.

Better stop now before my tears damage my key board.

Well as some of you will already know

2009-10-02T21:08:00.002+01:00

that photo was taken in Central Park, New York. Amazing to come across such a wildlife oasis in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world.

This photo was taken of a construction worker who is currently employed at Ground Zero.

More on that some other time.

Where was I?

2009-09-30T10:41:00.003+01:00

I have had a few days away from the UK. Guaranteed everyone will have heard of where I am but it wasn't quite what I expected to find in this particular city.

Very quick passing reference to football

2009-09-22T14:37:00.001+01:00

This is word for word of the local paper's verdict on our captain's performance on Saturday:

Ten times better than any other game for the club. 5/10.

Funny Jimmy Bullard

2009-09-21T09:01:00.001+01:00

VERY funny Jimmy Bullard.

Silk and stuff

2009-09-17T14:09:00.005+01:00

We visited a silk factory whilst we were in Shanghai. Silk has been produced in China since around 2700 BC and played a major part in the economic and social development of the country as traders took the Silk Road all the way back and forth between China and Europe. We saw evidence of European traders as they were depicted in frescoes from around 600 AD which we saw whilst we were in Xian.

That was a bizarre episode as we were at the Shaanxi History Museum but instead of going round it as we had kind of supposed was what we were there to do, we were taken through it, out a back entrance, down some steps, past the service areas underneath the museum, and finally into a basement that only permits visitors by appointment to see this very rare and delicate collection. The frescoes from the tomb of Prince Zhang Huai were fascinating depicting for example the Chinese playing polo,

and also hunting with their tamed pet leopards sitting in baskets behind them as they rode their horses. Photography strictly forbidden but well worth checking out on the net.

Back to silk. Our guide showed us the whole process of making silk from the silk worm cocoons* onward to the finished products and in particular to the rugs. The woman we saw at her loom had been making silk rugs for the past 22 years. The detail in these rugs was extraordinary and although I have seen it with my own eyes it is still impossible to believe that these beautiful carpets are made entirely by hand. A 6 foot by 4 foot rug would cost (with discount at factory prices) from around £450 for a fairly basic pattern, which was about £150 more than the weaver we saw earns in a year. Not good.

The scale of the construction going on in Shanghai is impossible to describe, but when the Chinese decide something is going to get done within a particular time scale it gets done within that particular time scale (see the preparations for the Beijing Olympics as one example). Next year Shanghai hosts the World Expo Exhibition** and is busy transforming the city ahead of that. Just one example: The Bund is down by the river and is a very popular destination for tourists. The local government has decided that given the massive influx of visitors expected for next year (70 million of them) The Bund will not be wide enough to accommodate all the tourists who will wish to stroll down it. Solution – widen the pavement all the way across the road, and build a new road underneath where the current one is. And that is exactly what they are doing right now. There is not a shadow of a doubt that it will be ready on time.

Most of the workers in the construction industry, like the weaver mentioned too, are migrant workers. In the Chinese context migrant means they come from further west in China and they are paid a pittance in what ever work they do. Exploitation of the workforce isn’t confined to capitalist countries.

* Countless silkworm cocoons in China but none go to waste. Any that aren't used in the silk industry get eaten. I still haven't got on to the subject of food have I? Some interesting little delicacies we came across, that I must remember to mention soon.

** Worth checking out if only for the fascinating 'Announcement on the Solicitation of the Third Round of Catering Service Providers for the Public Areas of the Site of Expo 2010'. Those Chinese love their short snappy titles.

Football

2009-09-16T12:32:00.003+01:00

Martin mentioned the lack of reports about NTFC. Well....my mother always told me that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. So with apologies to my mum, here goes.

As some of you will know we were relegated last season. We would not have been relegated if the players had collectively given a toss, but they did not and last May I was feeling like this about the team.

I fully expected if I am honest that anger and depression would have worn off by the time the new season started as with each new season usually comes new hope, but at the start of this season all I had seen was 3 out of our 4 decent players leaving - and no one inspiring coming in. Specifically no new goal keeper came in and we kicked off this season as we had played most of last season with a young and obviously* not yet ready for league football keeper, and a 16 year old reserve.

I missed the first few matches anyway as I was away. I missed our next one at home as I chose to go and see Reidski instead. I decided I had better things to do of a Saturday afternoon to go to the following match which was away at the mighty Burton Albion, but I have to say I did confidently expect that we would win that one by a margin of at least 5 goals. My son went. At quarter past three when we had been playing for all of 15 minutes I checked my phone to see as I did actually say to Reidski at the time, if we were five nil up yet. There were three texts from my son waiting to be read. The first one said 'Oh god - now it's 3.' It was only when I saw the other two texts that I could fully grasp the fact that it was 3 - 0 to Burton. I texted him back and said 'Please tell me you are joking.' He wasn't. He doesn't joke about anything that serious. We had conceded 3 goals in the space of the first ten minutes.

That obviously had to be an aberration. I went to the next game and I took Reidski with me. We both wished I hadn't. We were played off the park at home by Barnet whose wage bill is £500,000 less than ours is. There was not one single positive to take away from that performance except that it brought to a close Stuart Gray's time as our manager.

Saturday saw us under a caretaker manager taking on Notts County who have come into loads of money this season. A lively start saw us go 1-0 up. Hooray! although that elation was subsequently somewhat dampened by us then conceding 5 goals.

Suffice to say that the football team previously referred to as MY team still have quite a long way to go to reclaim their hold on my heart. Last season I won money on our relegation, and I am seriously considering placing a bet right now on us going down to the Conference at the end of this season because we are seriously poor right now.

* Obvious to everyone that is but our then manager.

It will be a relief to get back to talking about China after that little lot.

On anything but China.

2009-09-14T13:09:00.002+01:00

Sorry but there is still loads I want to write about China, but I realise I have scared most of my visitors off by going on and on about it so I will try and come up with a post that doesn’t descend into ‘And whilst I was in China....’

There’s been lots going on since I got back. On the bank holiday Monday a group of us sprung a surprise on our wonderful friend Anne (the one who paid for us to go to China. So far not a great start to the Not Mentioning China resolve but I think it did need to get mentioned there). Anne was 50 the other weekend and had organised a party, but we wanted to do something for her so we got a private room in a restaurant down in London to which she was lured under false pretences. There followed much piss taking on issues as important as hair styles Anne has worn, and outfits she has been seen alive in (some rather serious crimes against fashion were recalled), but mainly it was a very emotional day. I’ve known Anne for over thirty years, and all of us have been through so many ups and downs, but above all that we have had so many laughs. Lots more laughs were added that day.

As for her party itself: Well in many ways it was simply wonderful. More champagne than I have ever seen in my life and a chance to catch up with people I don’t see so much anymore. Rather unfortunately for me though I must have been exuding my ‘I am a social worker’ radar as when ever I asked anyone how they were I didn’t get the much desired ‘I’m absolutely fine thank you’ response. Instead I got the full uncensored version of everyone’s own version of a Mid Life Crisis. It was all rather depressing !

The day we came back from holiday (where was it you went again Jane?) was the day my son’s A Level results were out. As we arrived back late in the afternoon he had no way of getting them that day, but he went on the internet on his phone after we landed and was able to see that he had got his place at the university he wanted to go to. He was so overjoyed that he cried. Seeing him cry, plus the realisation that he really will be leaving home in October, made me cry. Seeing me cry made me daughter cry. My eldest son who is not leaving home managed not to cry but instead started planning how he was going to re-arrange his bedroom now he will finally have a room of his own.

Reidski and I have had some lovely times together as usual. I still can’t believe how lucky I was to meet him through blogging of all things. We get on so incredibly well. Anyway, on Saturday we went to see Richmond Fontaine in Bedford and I loved them. I hadn’t seem them before and didn’t really know what to expect whilst Reidski spent much of the concert chatting away to them so intimate is he with them and their sounds. This most have been rather irritating for anyone there to listen to their music as opposed to their chit chat with some Scottish geezer but no one complained (not audibly at least).

We spent the night in a hotel where there was a wedding party in full swing. I sort of wish I had the descriptive powers to pass on to you the sheer horror of the frocks on display but I don’t really want to illustrate the full dimensions of my snobbery. Let’s just say tight fitting, revealing, day-glo colours and tattoos and draw a veil over what the women were wearing 

Bedford has a very significant Italian community and we had the most fabulous meal before we went to see R.F here which if we had eaten it in Italy would have provoked months of ‘You could never get that standard of food outside of Italy’ talk. The following day there was an Italian Festival going on, complete with naff singers in white suits, waltzing grandmothers, lots of Italian motors and a splattering of Juventus football shirts. It was fun.

Much to the envy of my kids Reidski has done the almost impossible and got us a couple of tickets to see Jay Z at this one off gig in Camden. My kids pointed out that I will most probably be the oldest person there. I will try not to mind too much.

Work has been tough recently. Far too many intensely complicated scenarios that I am trying to juggle. Though nothing was as bad as Saturday afternoon when I found myself scouring woodland to locate two kids aged 5 and 6 who had done a runner from our annual Family Day. I really wasn’t too sure how exactly I was going to explain to their parents how I had succeeded in mislaying their children –although thinking about it, as the children in question were so particularly badly behaved, their parents may have considered I had done them a favour. But talking of work my lunch time is up so back to the coal face of human misery I go. It’s just like Anne’s party all over again, but without the champagne.

Keeping the Red Flag Flying There

2009-09-11T12:53:00.007+01:00

Shanghai girls – high achieving, hard working, high earning, high maintenance and high spending. Our (female) guide in Shanghai described how they always eat out and spend loads on fashion, make up, and personal grooming.

Shanghai boys – the opposite to the above.

Shanghai boys are said to make the best husbands in China.

Shanghai girls are said to make the worst wives.

In spite of living in a very 21st Century city some old habits die hard in Shanghai – not least the one that means men have to provide totally for the woman upon marriage. And pity the totally laid back Shanghai boys who finds himself landed with one of the driven Shanghai girls. The boys are considered to be the best husbands in China because they never argue with their wives – in fact they tend to be afraid of them. One of our guide’s married female acquaintances was displeased with her husband for some misdemeanour and made him spend an afternoon kneeling on an old fashioned wash board. We found it bizarre to say the least that he accepted this punishment, but China truly is another country.

Something else we found odd about Shanghai was that feng shui is still taken very seriously indeed by the inhabitants. There was a long article in the Shanghai Daily News when we were there, talking to young women who swore that the good fortune they had recently achieved had been done to consultation with feng shui masters. On the other hand there stands behind a temple which we visited, a testament to what happens when the feng shui exerts a negative vibe. We visited the Jade Temple and behind it is a tall and very modern apartment block of flats – all of them unoccupied and likely to remain so. Apparently one of the worst things one can do to disturb the feng shui positivity is to look down upon a Buddha. When people first moved into this apartment block there were numerous reports of ill fortune befalling the residents, and the net result of them all was that everyone in there moved out, and no one else is prepared to risk the wrath of Buddha by moving in. Mind you – looking at this photo of one of the Buddha’s there, one might understand a certain reluctance to annoy him further!

Shanghai is an incredible city. It contains areas known as ‘concessions’ that were once enclaves for foreign nationals which were so apart from the rest of the city that they would even have their own electricity supplies. There is a French concession which is street after street that looks just like Parisian boulevards, and The Bund by the river which was the British concession area. It was a strange experience to walk along it next to buildings that would not be out of place in the City of London. One especially amazing building there was the former HSBC building – now the Shanghai Pedong Development Bank building. One is not allowed to take photos inside of this building, and this picture I found does not do the ceiling justice but will give a good idea of how elaborate it was.

During the Cultural Revolution when such a ceiling would have been under threat from the Red Guards the bank employees covered up the ceiling so that it would hopefully escape being vandalised and it remained covered up and forgotten about until fairly recently.

The only things that suggested that these various buildings along The Bund were not British were the flags flying above them all. Or at least those flags suggested something to most of us.

By the time we visited The Bund we had been in China for 9 days. It was therefore slightly embarrassing for us all when one of our party turned to our guide and asked her what exactly all those red flags signified?

Obviously there are limits to how educational travel can be!

Isn't my 18 year old son gorgeous, and how lucky was he to celebrate his birthday in such a fabulous and exciting city?

The Three Gorges

2009-09-07T12:25:00.002+01:00

We had a leisurely journey on a cruise through the Three Gorges on the Yangzi river. These are – as it says on the tin – three gorges through which the river passes in fairly rapid succession, but the scenery is simply breathtaking as the river is cut through mountains that instantly rise to 1,000 metres and more.

So leisurely was our boat trip that it is hard to imagine how come the Tang poet Li Bai (AD c.712-770) wrote of the waters through which we passed that they were as ‘A thousand seas poured into a single cup.’

Before the 20th Century rugged mountains would have virtually isolated Sichuan province from eastern China if it hadn’t been for the 400 mile stretch of water down which we travelled from Chongqing to Yichang, but it was a very perilous journey. As the river narrowed to pass through the gorges, so the water turned to vicious torrents.

The water levels were far lower before any dams were built, but it was also extremely rocky, and in fact to navigate the Three Gorges needed the assistance of men known as the river trackers whose job was to help haul the boats through the gorges with the aid of ropes. For some of the biggest ships up to 400 men would be involved in trying to get the ship safely through the gorges. The dangers presented by the waters gushing through the gorges defeated the attempts of the Japanese to pass through them during the Second World War and attack Chongqing.

After the war work was done to smash the hazardous rocks and as water levels have risen the raging waters of the river have been calmed. Trackers are no longer needed on the main stretches of the river, but do continue to work in the tributaries. Inevitably this is now mainly to satisfy the tourists.

The trackers used to work in the nude because for one thing if they wore clothes they would get wet, and probably didn’t possess a change of attire anyway. The other thing was though that the ropes would rub the fabric of their clothing and cause terrible sores, so they always stripped off for work. So as not to offend the sensibilities of we precious tourists they now wear shorts but continue to be bare chested. We did travel down one of the tributaries called the Shennong Xi, on first a smaller boat, and then on one rowed and later, as the water got shallower, pulled by the boat men. There are many such trips available but although the boats are all the same size the number of people taken by the trackers in each one depends upon nationality. Chinese people travel 15 to a boat, as opposed to 9 Americans. And yes – that is down to the ‘small’ matter of size. (13 of us on ours).

The youngest tracker currently working on this stretch of river was 17 and the oldest was 84. One of the men rowing our boat was 68. He had the most incredibly muscular frame I have ever seen. All the trackers come from farms up in the mountains. As if it is not enough to spend your working day rowing and pulling along boatloads of tourists, we were told that to get to these boats they hike between 2 and 3 hours, and then after they finish they hike back to their homes again. They are renowned for their longevity, and I can’t say I am surprised. Though not exactly a relaxing life that they lead!

Along the Shennong Xi there are caves in which are visible from the river three hanging coffins. These were left by the Bai people who were the earliest Sichuan people, some 2,000 years ago. They are high up the cliff face because they believed that the closer a deceased person was to heaven the better their chances of getting a place up there. I did see these coffins but capturing camera on a moving boat proved well beyond my ken.

But as for the scenery?

Words fail me, but thankfully my little digital camera where that was concerned certainly did not.

Relocation, relocation, relocation

2009-09-04T11:53:00.003+01:00

Our river cruise down the Yangtze took three days. On our first day we were taken to a Chinese village to meet some of the residents there. The first family we met had a house with a basement, a general store at the bottom and three bedrooms, a lounge, bathroom and kitchen on the top floor. They had lived there about two years. Previously they had lived in another village but that village no longer exists due to the Three Gorges Dam Project. This project which was completed at the end of last year resulted in the water level through the Three Gorges rising an incredible 140 metres. The family we met were not the only people who had to be relocated – not by a long way. Some 1.4 million people have had to leave their homes, often where their families have lived for generations, and move to new locations. Entire cities were rebuilt higher up the river banks.

This family had the choice of a number of possible locations and had a fixed sum of money as compensation and towards building costs. They chose their preferred spot and constructed their present home. She described a great deal of grief when she and the residents of her previous village were called to a general meeting and told by a government official that their entire village would be destroyed. It was 7 years after they first heard about these plans that they actually moved which is a long time to have something so major hanging over you. She said however that having moved, and being able to open their shop, they were happy with how things had turned out for them.

We then walked through the village (If you find this tourist please take care of her. She is from deepest Northamptonshire) to see how the original villagers lived. Slight difference. I did take some photos of the inside of this home but as there were no windows they came out too dark to illustrate their living conditions, but let’s just say they were basic. Some of us thought we were in a shed, but it was the bedroom.

The stuff on the ground in front of me is the corn drying.

The closest sweet building is the communal ‘washroom’. Very picturesque but you might not necessarily chose to live there yourself. We asked the old guy who was the senior member of the household if he felt any resentment towards the ‘in-comers’ who had all mod cons and resettlement compensation. He said not at all as he remembers the days under Chiang Kai-Shek when he was forced to flee his home over and again. Now he is happy to have a place he calls home.

I could go on at great length about the potential advantages and disadvantages of this massive Dam Project but one thing will for ever stay in my mind.

The weight of millions of tons of water behind a dam can increase the chances of an earthquake. Critics of the project raised this many years before the project actually got underway but the authorities were convinced that this was not a threat.

On May 12th 2008 there was a massive earthquake. You will recall the images from newspapers and television at the time. The earthquake was in a province the Yangtze river passes through.

Official figures (as of July 21, 2008) ) state that 69,227 are confirmed dead, including 68,636 in Sichuan province, and 374,176 injured, with 18,222 listed as missing. The earthquake left about 4.8 million people homeless, though the number could be as high as 11 million. Whether or not the Dam had anything to do with this horrific disaster the fact remains that as we looked out of our boat and down at the waters we would see, floating along, shoes. Lots and lots of shoes. Shoes that belonged to victims of the earthquake.

Chinese family life.

2009-09-02T12:54:00.003+01:00

As a change from 'What I did on my holidays' here follows some more of what we picked up about the Chinese way of life.

It was very noticeable in Beijing that family groups often comprised more than one child who looked so alike that they had to be siblings. This we were told was because wealthy families do not have to adhere to the one child policy at it means they pay more in taxation, but that they can afford to do so. However, in central China it was a different story and the one child policy has been stuck to very strictly. With an aging population though inevitably there will be problems with the policy because the younger generations are expected to support their parents who can retire from the age of 50, and increasingly their grandparents as well.

In rural areas the government has allowed some flexibility in that if a farmer’s family has a daughter first they can have one more child in the hope that it will be a boy who can in due course take over the farming of the family’s land. Even in Shanghai – no ones idea of a rural area – the district government is saying that if a couple are both single children themselves, they can if they wish have a second child.

We met a woman on our boat who had triplets – two boys and a girl Result!

But what are the impacts of the one child policy on Chinese families? One of our guides had previously been a teacher of teenage kids. He quit because the behaviour of the children was so appalling – he said they were all so exceedingly spoilt. He went on to say that he himself had been totally spoilt when he was a child. He told us about a trip he made with his parents to Beijing when he was about 8 and he saw his first McDonalds. He could see all these children inside playing and he desperately wanted to go in and eat there. His mother pointed out that he couldn’t possibly be hungry because they had only just had dinner. He then proceeded to make the fuss to end all fusses and his indulgent parents caved in and he got his first ever Happy Meal. He didn’t touch the food as he was indeed not the slightest bit hungry, but he treasured the free toy for many months after the visit.

Our guide in Shanghai described the single children as generations of Little Emperors and Little Empresses. All completely and utterly indulged by their parents. BUT these children are also put under intense pressure to succeed because they will be expected to take care of their parents as they go out to work.

The pressure begins at kindergarten age where there are actually examinations for entrance to the best ones. Children of 3 years old are expected to know a minimum of 500 Chinese characters and to have some English.

In Shanghai the district authority recently put out a survey to see what it was that teenagers in the city felt would most improve their quality of life. 87% said ‘More sleep’, and they weren’t asking to be allowed to stay in bed till mid-afternoon. They spend all day at school and are given masses of homework on a daily basis. When they leave school they often get sent to Children’s Palaces – places offering extra curricular activities like music lessons, dance, art etc – and these places also give the kids homework. Our guide said that it is generally accepted that school students in the city will be doing homework till 2 in the morning, and will be up for school again five hours later. They also have activities at the weekends. She said the local authority recognises there is a problem with the physical condition of especially the young men – they are so busy with academic studies they do not get out to play sport or exercise and are a weedy bunch. What our guide said was that they were faced with increasing numbers of young people with very high I.Q’s but very low emotional intelligence at socialising just doesn’t happen. They start work and have no idea how to relate to colleagues.

Whilst all this pressure seems very unfair on the young people there are reasons behind it . As I already mentioned, the expectation on young adults is that they will support the older generations in their families (two families assuming a couple get married). The parents of people like our guide, Mira, have suffered extreme hardship during their lives. Mira was a child in the 1980’s and has always lived in Shanghai. Her family lived in one room three floors up in an apartment block. They had no kitchen and no bathroom. Chamber pots would be taken each morning to the nearest public toilet and sluiced out there. When they had a bath, heated water would be fetched from the ground floor of the block and carried up the stairs where it would be emptied into a tin bath. Afterwards the water would have to be carried back down again. This though was no hardship compared to what her father went through.

Her father was a student during the Cultural Revolution and was thus ‘encouraged’ to volunteer to go and do labouring work so he could appreciate the life of the Chinese peasants. He and his friends went to the province of Xinjiang which basically is as far away from Shanghai as they could have got without leaving China. It was a three day and night train journey to get there on a train with no seating, let alone toilet facilities. Upon arrival they were allocated space in what she described as barns for their living quarters and they were set to work on the land. There was a basic problem with the land in that it was on the edge of the Taklamakan Desert. Nothing could be cultivated there by experienced farmers so a bunch of students from a huge city were always going to struggle. He worked on the fruitlessly on the land for some 7 years before getting a job collecting firewood for the horrendously bitter cold winters (averaging -11 to -22 centigrade) ,from out in the Takalmakan Desert. This must have been fun.

Taklamakan translates as "The Desert of Death", "The Desert Into which He who Enters Will Not Return", "The Abandoned Place".
One of the largest 'shifting' deserts in the world, it once formed the greatest obstacle to be found along the Silk Road and fearful Caravaneers of old would skirt its edges, to the north or to the south, as they transported their wares from oasis to oasis and on to Khotan, Kashgar or Chang-an.

He went in a horse and cart – six hours into the desert and six hours back – every day for three years – on his own. Mira has asked him before how come he didn’t go stark staring mad doing that and his answer is that he knew he was so much better off doing that than he had been in the fields so he counted his blessings.

So anyway – no wonder he wants a bit of comfort in his old age.

Mira also told us displays of affection between parents and their child are very rare. She said she loved the way we kissed or hugged our children. This may also be a throw back to those raised during the Cultural Revolution as loyalty to the Party had to be placed above loyalty to the family and in fact for most of the week even senior Party officials lived apart from their families. Individuals feared being denounced if they were seen to be too affectionate to family members - even to their children. Saturdays were the day when a married couple could be together and the euphemism for making love in China is still 'Spending a Saturday'. I really don't know how though anyone could 'grow out of' being affectionate to ones kids.

And so to Chongqing.

2009-09-01T11:34:00.007+01:00

A small municipality with a population of a mere 33 million people.

It sounds beautiful. A city in a sub-tropical temperature zone on the river Yangtze and so mountainous that no one in Chongqing rides a bike. In fact when students from Chongqing go to university outside of their home city the other students laugh at them as they have to learn to ride a bike for the first time in their lives. Public transport in this city includes monorails, funicular railways and chairlifts.

Well it might very well be very beautiful but one will never know on account of this.....

It is so foggy (not to mention the pollution) that the residents of the city hardly ever see the sun, and visitors do not get to see the mountainsides at all.

Chongqing was the capital of China during the Second World War. This was an act of tactical genius. The city was the western side of the Three Gorges on the Yangtze which at that time was an extremely hazardous river and was very difficult for the Japanese to penetrate through. There were no roads over the mountains so the only other possible way to attack the city was by air but it is so bloody foggy the Japanese fighter pilots couldn’t find the place, let alone successfully bomb it.

Much as I would love to sing the praises of this place our few hours in the city before boarding our boat to take us down the river do not count as the highlight of the trip, but I am nevertheless not likely to forget that day in a hurry. In each place we visited we had a different guide. Our guide in Chongqing was called Jackie (English version of his name). Anyway, my middle son was getting on really well with him and the two of them were chatting away nineteen to the dozen. We were in what had been the headquarters of the joint American and Chinese war effort. I was looking at some photos from that time and asked Jackie a question about one of them. He answered the question and then had one of his own for me: “Do you remember the war?”

It was one of those moments when your brain can’t quite process what someone has just said to you as it is simply too dreadful to comprehend. Apparently I stood there with a stunned and horrified expression on my face as I tried to manufacture a reply that was politer than “Fuck right off” when I realised my son was bent double with laughter. Jackie’s question had been instigated by him, and carried out with panache by his accomplice. Revenge will be mine when he least expects it.

So here is downtown Chongqing – yet another place with massive investment pouring in.

But I have to be honest - the best part of our day in Chongqing was the moment our boat set sail and we left the place!

Question

2009-08-28T12:45:00.009+01:00

as asked by not one but two of my offspring.: ...”What are the Terracotta Warriors made of?” Answers please on the back of a postcard.

Xian is a city with a population of about 8 million people. It is also undergoing massive reconstruction, and much of this is due to it being the location of the Terracotta Army. What I had not known previously was that Xian – historically known as Cháng'ān was the capital of China for over a thousand years including the duration of the Tang Dynasty (AD 618 – 907). (I can’t help myself with the historical details – I blame my education.) Because of this it is an archeologist’s paradise. As you drive from the airport to the city there are burial mounds in every direction – emperors, empresses, princes, princesses, concubines, rich courtiers....

A word now in praise of A&K. When one sees the word ‘Museum’ crop up on ones itinerary it isn’t guaranteed to gladden the heart, even with an old foggie like me – but we visited four museums in the 48 hours we spent in Xian and every visit was superb. Basically our guide in the city made sure we saw the highlights including this lady – one of 13 ‘Fat ladies’.

The porcelain we saw was simply astonishing in that it looked exactly like the kind of things up market stores like Heals and Harrods would sell today – simple, classic designs – yet they were 1500 years old.

It would be an unusual visitor to Xian however who did not come away saying that the visit to the Terracotta Warriors was not the highlight of their stay there. Reidski and I did go to the exhibition in the British Museum last year, but nothing could ever prepare you for the first site of 1200 of these unearthed warriors in row after row, there to defend the Emperor Qin Shi (BC 221-210) throughout his afterlife. I deliberately avoided looking until such time as I was stood right at the front and would have a clear view of them. I nearly collapsed when I did focus upon them.

Qin must have been truly remarkable. He was the first Emperor to unify China- and lets not forget just how fucking big China is. How would one even start to unify an area that huge even with the communications and transport systems we have today? He standardized money, as well as weights and measures, and he began the construction of the Great Wall...not personally like – he had many thousands of minions to do that – even after he had set many other thousands of minions to work on his tomb.

For those who don’t know the story of the discovery of the warriors in 1974 9 farmers were digging a well when about 12 feet down they discovered a sizable chunk of one. They took it along to the museum and – not unusually Xian being the aforementioned archeologist’s paradise, there was a visiting archeologist there who was intrigued enough by this particular find to go back to the area and start digging. Thus began the unearthing of what they believe will total an army of 8,000 warriors by the time they have finished. I should say – by the time they have finished digging that particular section. Qin’s tomb is over a kilometer away. He was preparing everything he would need in his afterlife and so far they haven’t found a single woman. Even in the event that Qin was a confirmed bachelor he would need them for the cleaning – there is so much more to be found – let alone what will be in his tomb itself. Scripts that have been unearthed talk of rivers made of mercury and stars made of diamonds and pearls. I really hope I live long enough to hear what is actually in there.

Incidentally, if the farmers had dug one metre to the east they would not have found anything. They just happened to come across a warrior in the very front row, and in the left hand corner.

The museum, very sensibly, is built on the site of the discoveries. The Chinese seem to do this quite a lot – another museum we visited in Xian (The Hanyangling Museum) is actually underground so you walk alongside the treasures from an emperor’s tomb at the level they were discovered...over 3,000 of those thus far!

Millions of people have visited Xian since the Warriors were discovered, and so it was interesting to learn that the 9 farmers received $400 in recognition of their find – between them. This was after all Communist China and everyone had the same income. However, as they saw the area transformed financially because of their find they went back to the authorities and argued they should be entitled to more. That argument ran and ran. Following the death of Mao though a deal was reached whereby the farmers take turns in the museum gift shop (home of the £12 fridge magnet) and sign the guide book. For doing this they get a percentage of each book sold. There are only four of them left alive now.

The museum gift shop also sells, in addition to signed guide books and vastly overpriced fridge magnets, life size terracotta warriors. Some of these (my children please take note) are made from terracotta. Some are made in solid jade. “Who in their right mind? “we wondered, “would buy one of them?” This question was partially answered on our return to England. My car was at the home of or friend who funded this trip. She lives in Loughton, Essex. As we drove in our mini bus down her road I saw a terracotta warrior in her neighbour’s driveway. No one believed me so we had to reverse and have a proper look, but sure enough, just round the bend from where Anne lives someone who may or may not be in their right mind, has a life sized terracotta warrior in their front garden. There truly is ‘Nowt so queer as folk.'

Schadenfreude

2009-08-26T15:59:00.004+01:00

If one stays in the Peninsular Suite at the Peninsular Hotel Beijing one gets the free* use of a brand new Rolls Royce during ones stay. In fact the hotel has two such vehicles, as well as 6 7 series BMW's - all in the company colours of a very dark and sophisticated green. These cars are parked in a perfectly synchronised formation in front of the hotel foyer.

Spare a thought then for the poor taxi driver who on the morning of our departure from Beijing had the misfortune to bump into the front of one of these extremely expensive vehicles provoking consternation amongst the hotel staff, and hilarity amongst every passer by.

*Although if you are tempted I should point out that the suite in question costs five grand a night.

This is not a complaint but

2009-08-26T13:33:00.004+01:00

Because we were travelling with Abercrombie and Kent hereafter to be known as A & K, who provide very luxurious tours indeed, there was an assumption made that we were all 13 of us extremely wealthy. Our retail ‘opportunities’ offered as part of the trip included visits to pearl markets and silk factories where it would have been nice if there was a single item for sale that we could actually afford. My guide book warned to be alert for trips to the Great Wall that could include unwanted diversions to cloisonné workshops and jade factories. Ours managed to include both of these, the first of them cunningly disguised as a toilet stop.

As I mentioned before we left, the thought of the toilets in China filled me with horror, but in fact all facilities that the clients of A & K were confronted with were better than anything we encounter in England. On this particular morning though our guide said we would stop for the toilet break at this spot because they were much cleaner than those by the Wall itself. They just happened to be at a cloisonné workshop.
This is a multi-step enamel process used to produce jewellery, vases etc. Hummm- all very nice stuff, but rather on the pricey side. I was just about to buy a Christmas decoration for the tree when my son pointed out to me it actually cost £12.00 rather than the £1.20 I had calculated. If only he had been there to save me from buying the fridge magnet which cost me a bloody fiver. A rather expensive toilet stop – it cost one of our party over 200 quid!

Small diversion here on the subject of fridge magnets. As Reidski well knows (he has a fridge covered with magnets from my various trips) I do like to get fridge magnets when I am away. The one in this story cost me a fiver. They wanted £12 for one at the Terracotta Warriors museum (they didn’t get it though as thankfully I had sussed the exchange rate by then). £1.50 for the exact same magnet in Xian itself – and £1.00 in a village outside Shanghai. So shop around for your fridge magnets in China people!

So onwards to see The Great Wall. We went to Mutianyu (90 kilometers northeast of Beijing) which opened in 1986, which was designated by the Beijing Government in 1987 as one of the 16 most scenic spots in China. This section of the Wall was begun in A.D. 600 and reconstructed 1,000 years later. The main section stretches for 2.5 kilometers, and is punctuated by 22 watchtowers, including three connected bastions to the lowest part of the pass. We were very lucky to be there on a beautiful clear day and we could literally see mile after mile of the Wall wending its way over the mountain tops.

Now I appreciate that 2.5 kilometers doesn’t sound like far, and that the following risks making me sound like a right out of condition slob, but I did get to the end of the section that is open to visitors, along with three others from our group of 13, and if I have done anything more strenuous in my entire life, then the pain of that particular exercise what ever it may have been must have been so dreadful I have managed to get rid of that memory completely. I wish these photos could show exactly how steep it was – especially in the last part which is the last bit of Wall you can see in the middle picture – because I can’t describe how tough the going was. It was also extremely hot and humid. It also took simply ages. In fact we were supposed to have been back at our coach when we still weren’t quite at the end. Being a law abiding sort of person myself I was worried that we should turn back but as one of the other four said we weren’t ever going to get the chance to make this walk again, and anyway – “The coach won’t leave without us.” So we did make it....a triumphant moment, only slightly marred by the realisation that we now had to get all the way back.

The coach did not in point of fact wait for us. (Although our guide did, and we caught up with the others eventually via a taxi ride.) Our guide told us that it is very rare for his clients to walk the entire stretch of Wall - especially rare for clients of A & K who generally just take the chair lift up, take a few photos, and go back down again. I am so very glad I did it. My h ours spent at the gym have not been in vain.

After a wonderful lunch in which I must have consumed about a million calories at least, we went on to visit the Ming Tombs, which comprise the burial chambers of 13 Ming Emperors plus countless wives, concubines and assorted high ranking eunuchs (complete with their precious parts we hope).
The site of the Ming Dynasty Imperial Tombs , which is stunningly beautiful, was carefully chosen according to Feng Shui principles, which are still taken very seriously in China today (more on that when I get to our trip to Shanghai).

A seven kilometer road named the "Spirit Way" (Shen dao) leads into the complex, lined with statues of guardian animals and officials.

This is me with My Little Pony. Thankfully we did not have to walk all the 7 kilometers – some of us still hadn’t dried out from our earlier walk.

The day was rounded off with the aforementioned visit to the jade factory. “Oh lovely – the finest quality apple green jade used for this necklace. A mere £90,000 too. Moving swiftly on....” As I say, the expectation was that we could afford this stuff. I don’t even think I like jade very much myself.

Random bits from Beijing.

2009-08-24T11:54:00.004+01:00

First impressions were amazement at the beautiful Terminal 3 at Beijing airport (designed partly by Norman Foster, and larger than all five Heathrow terminals combined), and astonishment at the sheer number of ultra modern skyscrapers in the city. Everywhere we visited we heard the same story of massive investment in building work over the past 10 to 15 years transforming the appearance of the cities. Most of the investment though is centred on the Eastern side of China whilst the middle lags behind considerably and the West is still virtually untouched by modernisation.

So dramatic is the redevelopment in Beijing that it took one individual to draw attention to the fact that if some of the old buildings were not preserved no one would know what the original Beijing looked like. Because of his foresight an area has now been protected called the Hutong and we visited a family living there. Madam was none too impressed with the changes that had taken place around her – least of all the now thriving night life that has sprung up in this quaint and previously quiet, part of town. She did however take our visit as an opportunity to try and flog us some of her husband’s paintings which she displayed on her wooden clothes horse. They were very good.

It is now 30 years since China was once again opened up to the outside world, yet throughout our trip, and most noticeably in Beijing, we were the object of curiosity and interest. We kept being asked to pose for photographs with the Chinese, and others would none too subtly video our group, although my blond haired, blue eyed daughter was in particular demand – we should have charged for each photo taken of her! Whilst initially this seemed unexpected in Beijing it was explained that the vast majority of tourists to Beijing, not surprisingly really, are Chinese. Many of these tourists are from areas that scarcely ever see a Westerner and it was these people who were so fascinated by us.

The changes Chinese people of my age have seen during their lifetime are quite staggering – let alone what their parents’ generation have experienced. Our guide in Beijing was born in 1964. When he was growing up if he didn’t want to eat up all his dinner his mother would say “But you must eat all your food. Don’t you know that in America and Britain the poor children are starving?” The first wave of American tourists soon put paid to that illusion!

Less than a hundred years ago there were still eunuchs at the Imperial Court. Some actually volunteered for ‘the cut’ as it could be a lucrative career. The actual operation was performed by a ‘knifer’. The patient would be given a herbal infusion meant to anaesthetize (let’s hope it was effective), and was then held down and sliced with a specially designed knife. A metal plug was then inserted in the urethra and he was made to walk immediately. No food or urination was allowed for three days. The plug was then taken out and if he could urinate at that point it meant he would probably live. The severed penis and testicles, known as the ‘Precious’ were carefully kept by each eunuch as they needed to be shown when ever they were on the brink of progressing to a higher level of service. Sometimes they got nicked so they would have to borrow a colleagues ‘Precious’. They also needed them when they died in order to gain entry to heaven as men – though some may feel it would all be a bit too late by then. The reason the eunuchs were required within the Imperial Household was to ensure that only the Emperor and his male heirs got to shag the concubines and that their offspring were guaranteed to be the Sons or Daughters of Heaven.

Chairman Mao must be spinning in his grave. Designer goods were on sale all over the city – as well as some very convincing fakes. Attitudes towards Mao seem to verge from veneration, through acceptance that he did some good things as well as having made some horrendous errors, to those of the teenagers “Yeah. I’ve heard of him – but he’s ancient history man!” If you can see some writing high up on the hillside on the photo of the Great Wall ,that says something like ‘Worship Mao,’ and only appeared a few years ago. Tiananmen Square is the largest square in the world – it is said to be able to hold a million people, and the queue of people waiting to see Mao in his mausoleum wound round the square at least twice. The people we saw waiting must be there still – although we were reliably informed that his body was badly embalmed and decomposed so was replaced by a wax work copy.

Our guide told us that when the massacre occurred he had a group of Australian tourists who cut their trip short because of it. He thus had some free time and the brother of one of his friends was missing so he went round the hospitals to see if they could find him. This man was a medical student who had just qualified. He had not been one of the protestors but had gone to the Square to assist with some of the students who had been on hunger strike. They eventually found him in a mortuary with four bullet holes across his chest. The Chinese government says 27 people died in the square that day. Following the massacre the paving in the square was all replaced with marble. Locals say this is because blood doesn’t stain marble.

Some of our family and friends were worried we may have been caught up in the typhoon that hit Eastern China whilst we were there. I guess the rain that fell in bucket loads on the first Sunday afternoon must have been connected to what was going on elsewhere, but it was the only time we got rained upon – as the photo hopefully shows there was rather a lot of it that day.

Coming next – how I sprinted up the Great Wall of China. Or should that read how I staggered up the Great Wall of China????

I just don't know where to begin

2009-08-23T20:14:00.007+01:00

So how about with Beijing, which was where our holiday did in fact begin....albeit not without an anxious 'We are going to get sent back' moment.

The Chinese are taking no risks with swine flu. Upon our arrival at the airport all staff were wearing face masks. We had to walk through sensors which took our temperatures automatically. Imagine our alarm when my daughter and another girl travelling with us were then immediately hauled into a medical check area for further investigations. Thankfully both of them passed the subsequent checks and we were allowed to enter The People's Republic of China. And thus began a truly sensational twelve days.

Whilst in Beijing itself (or Peking if you are from Southern China)we visited the Summer Palace; a family living in the Hutong which are some of the typical housing areas of which the majority have been demolished to make way for the skyscrapers that now constitute most of Beijing; The Forbidden Palace,The Temple of Heaven and various restaurants and markets.

The most surreal moments occurred in a park adjacent to the Forbidden City. We saw a middle aged Chinese woman dancing to music by a traditional Chinese band. We stopped and applauded her. This prompted three other women to join her and commence dancing to some Chinese tune, whilst urging us to join them. I threw dignity to the wind and joined in, as did my eldest, and after a while the remaining teenagers in our party. We made it through the dance and thought that was enough - a large crowd having already gathered to laugh at the Westerners attempts at Chinese dance styles. But no - the band then broke into (and this was somewhat incongruous) 'Jingle Bells', and followed this up very swiftly, and before we had time to make our escape,with ' I Come from Alabama with a Banjo on my Knee.' We were finally allowed to leave after participating in a Chinese folk song in which we got the hang of the chorus which consisted of shouting the word 'Hoy!' very loudly. Apparently the song translated to say that if you smile every day you will look ten years younger. We certainly made lots of Chinese people smile that day.

Have so much to say about this incredibly wonderful country that I have no doubt I will bore the arse of anyone who still pops by this place - but please stick with me over the next few weeks - I really do have a wealth of wonderful stories to share.

Vacation, vacation

2009-08-06T15:23:00.001+01:00

Well unbelievably I am off to China tomorrow. I won’t actually arrive there until Saturday morning – complete with my first proper experience of jet lag no doubt. My trip will include Beijing, Xian (this will be so helpful if my A-Z travels ever get as far as ‘X’!) , a three day cruise down the Yangzi River, and will end in Shanghai* where my son will get to celebrate his 18th birthday. (When I was his age I had never even been on an aeroplane.)

We are so incredibly lucky to have a friend as wonderful and generous as the lady who is paying for a total of 13 of us to have this amazing trip.

I know it is going to be a series of extraordinary experiences although I am hoping to avoid the experience of the public toilets there if remotely possible (described in my guide book with words like ‘squalid’ and filthy’).

I have never been anywhere humid before and so the fact that the humidity is currently up to 92 in some of the places we are going to doesn’t mean an awful lot to me right now – maybe just as well huh?

Don’t know if I will get on- line whilst I am there but I will try really hard not to alienate visitors to this place by droning on infinitum about the wonders of the Orient for too long after my return.

Back on the 20th. Till then I love you (in different degrees depending upon whether or not I sleep with you), and leave you (but I will be back soon).

*Note for Yorkshire Pudding – I had thought we were going to Hong Kong but arrangements were altered. I think I have more than enough to look forward to regardless.

Don't miss

2009-08-05T11:00:00.002+01:00

Manuel on Paris.

"I was determine not to let any small incidents of fisting get in the way of enjoying my trip."

Has my absence made your hearts grow fonder?

2009-08-03T12:42:00.004+01:00

Never mind – I’m thick skinned and I plough on regardless ;-)

Reidski and I have had a few days away and we stayed in Lancaster.

We got up early the first morning there determined to make the most of our time in the city. Our first trip was to the Tourist Information Office – which was shut. So we walked up to the (very impressive) castle – which was shut. Undeterred we walked down to the Maritime Museum (strange but true fact – Lancaster used to have a thriving port) and you will already have guessed that that was also shut. So having got up and about early we found ourselves killing time in Reidski’s idea of hell – the local shopping centre. I can tell you that Lancaster shopping centre looks remarkably like every other shopping centre in the UK.

We did eventually visit both the Maritime Museum and the Museum of Lancaster. Returning briefly to a previous topic regarding how when one lives in a place one never does what is on ones doorstep, Reidski had been in Lancaster for less than 18 hours and went to its Maritime Museum. He has lived near Greenwich for more than 18 years and only went to the Maritime Museum there last April.

Picked up one or two little snippets of information in the museums as one does. I learnt that John of Gaunt (Father of the Lancastrian king Henry IV, and known in Shakespeare as 'Time- Honoured Lancaster") spent precisely 9 days of his life in Lancaster. I also learnt that before the railways travellers went to the Lake District on horse drawn coaches across Morecombe Bay when the tide was out. We went to Morecombe Bay and very attractive it is too but what with all the quick sand around I wouldn’t want to cross it by any means other than boat. It was very easy to understand how this disaster happened there.

Should you ever find yourself in Lancaster this pub was superb.

We came back via the Peak District, stopping off for a walk round Buxton which I have just learnt is the self styled Cultural Capital of the Peak District, and continuing on for a bite to eat here. The Good Pub Guide describes this place as an’ Unpretentious local with very tasty home-cooking’, and very accurate that description is too. I had what the menu listed as ‘Chicken fillet’. The sauce it came in had no fancy title but was described as being ‘delightful’ – which was true. Reidski had a steak sandwich which came in a ‘cob’ the size of a dinner plate and the ‘few chips’ that according to the menu were served on the side was actually a chip mountain. We both agreed the place had obviously not been altered one iota in the past forty years and it was a surprise for me just now when I found the place has a website . It was an even greater surprise to find in this ancient village pub, the trendiest toilets that I have ever encountered.

We finished our break with a walk in beautiful Dove Dale.

No pictures yet as Blogger doesn't seem to want to co-operate with them just now.

And now back to work – groan – for all of four days before I jet off to the Far East – hooray.

More on that to follow.

Much more I suspect.

Westminster Abbey

2009-07-27T13:05:00.002+01:00

As I said in a comment recently to Gill – when I lived in London I hardly ever visited galleries, cathedrals etc, and I am only now starting to tick some of them off. It was only last year that I went to the Tate for the first time (shameful I know).

On Saturday Reidski and I made our first trip to Westminster Abbey.
It was a complete revelation. For all the times I must have seen the inside of it on the tele , Di’s funeral etc, I had no idea just how ornate it actually is, with over 600 elaborate memorials and monuments packed into it. Some of them pretty freaky like this one.

And it is a 1,000 years old. A door there is said to have been there since 1050. No built in obsolescence in those days.

As a historian of sorts, to stand next to the tomb of Elizabeth I is pretty mind blowing, as is seeing the spot where Oliver Cromwell lay – for all of two years before he was dug up to have his body well and truly desecrated.

I did have a moment when I nearly had to smack someone. In Poet’s Corner I went to search for the memorial to Wilfred Owen. His is one name in a list of war poets engraved on the floor. Just as I spotted him, some oaf put his foot right on top of Owen’s name. I was outraged! Mind you, should a certain female prime minister ever end up in the Abbey I think there may be long queues of people all wanting to stamp on her grave.

It wasn’t cheap - £15 each, but the website explains that the Abbey receives no regular funding from The Crown, the Church of England or the government. It states “Neither a cathedral nor a parish church, Westminster Abbey was established as a ‘Royal Peculiar’ in 1560 by Queen Elizabeth I. The Abbey is outside the jurisdiction and responsibility of the Church of England and the Government. In short, this means we must seek our own financial support.” It seems that the million plus visitors they get each year are still not enough to meet their overheads. So here’s a suggestion. Seeing as how the queen was crowned there, has many of her predecessors buried there including her namesake, got married there, most probably will have her funeral there, and as she is one of the richest persons on the planet, estimated at being worth around 40 billion pounds sterling (all the residences, pieces of art, royal collection, the lands, the ships and the financial resources hold by the monarch) – how about she dips into her pocket to fund the place?

Yeah right . Dream on JJ. She didn’t get so rich by giving any of it away don’t you know?

I'm good but....

2009-07-23T17:00:00.004+01:00

Caller: "I just found out my dad got another woman pregnant so I have a half brother. Can you find him for me? He was adopted. I don't know what his surname was, but his first name was Kenneth. He would be in his early 20's. "

Me: "Well that narrows it down."

.....I'm not that bloody good.

She did think she knew the woman's first name - but she couldn't be sure.

So I told her to sod off and stop bothering me ;-)

C is for

2009-07-23T12:22:00.004+01:00

Cogenhoe which is a village near where I live.

A prize will be awarded to anyone who is able to tell me how Cogenhoe is pronounced.

Decided this is too difficult so will have to tell you that for those in the know, Cogenhoe is pronounced 'Cook - know'. God knows why.

But I am not going to write about Cogenhoe even though I have indeed been there on several occasions.

There are two English counties that I just love which both begin with C and they are Cornwall and Cumbria. I have gone on recently about the innumerable delights of Cornwall, so I am going to talk about Cumbria today, although obviously there will be nothing original I can possibly say that William Wordsworth hasn’t already covered. Such are the little challenges we bloggers do face.

Carlisle is of course in Cumbria. It is not an issue for my family this coming season as by managing to get ourselves relegated we are no longer in the same league as Carlisle, but the last time we went to Cumbria it was on account of the football fixture list. “Can we go to Carlisle away?” is the question I always get asked by my insanely fanatical Cobblers fan of an eldest son. This particular season I said “Only if we draw them away in August. If we do we will have a week in the Lakes at the same time.” We drew them away in the August, and that was how a group of 9 members of my family (it kind of escalated) came to be in Keswick the week leading up to the Big Match – Northampton Town v Carlisle. One of those family members was my niece, then aged 8. My niece will be given the last word in this post. (She always likes to have the last word.)

I have been to the Lake District many times. I’ve been up Helvellyn via the notorious Striding Edge, and I have been up Great Gable, but I have yet to go up Scafell Pike. In common with many other parents over the years, I have taken my kids up Catbells for their first real hill climbing experience. Also in common with those other parents over the years, it was mainly a nightmare of moaning and complaining, until they reached the top and then I had to listen to the bragging about how easy it had been. Choosing a favourite spot in Cumbria would be difficult, but I have to say that I can see why Alfred Wainwright chose Haystacks as the spot where he wanted to have his ashes scattered. The views in every direction are breath taking. I am so jealous of Gill and
Karen who both live in this wonderful county.

This particular week was mainly (as is so often the case) wet. In fact it was very, very wet. There was serious flooding and we thanked our lucky stars that on this occasion we were in a house and not camping. I am afraid very few hours went past that week without someone (and very often it would have been me) complaining about why the bloody hell we had to draw a match against Carlisle this of all weeks? Holidays often have a theme. Ours was very definitely the fact that we were in rain sodden Cumbria all on account of a bloody football match against Carlisle.

The day of the match dawned and off we went to Carlisle. My niece and sister for reasons that can only be attributed to sanity did not come to the match, which as you will by now be aware was against Carlisle, but went shopping instead in Carlisle town centre. They came to meet us at the ground after the game which we, and all of 125 other Cobbler fans, had seen us win 1-0. My sister told me that as they approached the ground my niece asked a security guard who had won. ‘”Northampton” he replied. “Oh good, “ she said. “Who were we playing?”

Errh, that would probably have been Carlisle sweetheart.

My niece had obviously spent the entire week managing not to listen to a single word any of us said – nothing new there of course.

In which the past came back to haunt me..

2009-07-20T12:43:00.003+01:00

I do not have happy memories of my first secondary school. From September 1970 to May 1974 I was one of the ‘scholarship gals’ (ie I passed the 11+) at Northampton High School for Girls.

It was at the time a direct grant school which meant that whilst it was mainly a fee paying school, under sufferance they would accept a limited number of pupils who did not pay because that way they received some additional funding from the government..

Some of the girls there had been in the school since they were kindergarten age. To say it was a culture shock for those of us joining the school at age 11 is an understatement. I remember a uniform and equipment list that ran to three pages in length. This included both outdoor shoes and indoor shoes, as well as regulation navy blue knickers. All items (knickers included) had to have our name tag sown in them – it must have taken my mother the best part of a week – and yes we did have regulation inspections to ensure those tags were there. Yes – they did inspect our knickers too for goodness sake.

Two memories of my first year – or should I say my Upper Third year (how jolly hockey sticks does that sound?) stand out. One was from our Speech lesson. Yes – they did attempt to teach us how to speak. Only aged 11 I didn’t quite get that bit. We had to learn a poem for homework, and come back and recite it to the class. I learnt ‘I remember, I remember, the house where I was born.’ Word perfect then, word perfect now - it has stayed with me. Anyway, one line in particular stays with me about how the sun never’ brought too long a day’. I had to say that over and again and simply did not understand what the problem was. With the benefit of some wisdom acquired over my years at that school I later learnt the problem was my Northamptonshire accent – with particular reference to my ‘A’s’. ‘ Aaaa Daaaay.’ I also learnt that according to the teachers ‘Off’ was pronounced ‘Orrrffff.’ I did not previously know that!

The other memory was of Writing class (Writing AND Speech!). We never had lined exercise books as lined paper was unladylike (and more expensive). Anyway week in week out my writing was marked B+. Until that was, the day my teacher found out my parents had a pub and thereafter my writing was B- every single week.

We used to get a coach to our sports fields as they were some distance away. Unbelievably, what ever year we were in, we had to get changed into our gym kit on the coach. I don’t think that would happen these days!

I guess one either conformed at the school or one rebelled. I was in the second category, and by my fourth year (Lower Fifth) my card was well and truly marked. My physics report that year noted ‘Jane makes absolutely no effort’. Although it didn’t seem it at the time, my parents moving us to Skegness was the saving of me academically. As a new girl in what was happily a normal fifth year as opposed to a stupid Upper Fifth I got down to work and did well. That would never have happened at Northampton.

So having said all that, why on earth did I find myself on Saturday afternoon at a High School reunion? And how come I enjoyed myself so much? It was all girls who had been in my year. It has to be said that some have aged somewhat better than others. I did feel pretty bad assuming Judith D must have been an old teacher but I think I talked my way out of that faux pas. It was interesting to realise that most of them had hated the place too. Always fun to find yourself with people with whom you share common experiences from the past and to see old photos – I did have the widest pointy collars in the whole world (surely?), and the shortest skirt no question. Looking though at letters sent home that inexplicably some people had kept and brought along it really did reek of a bygone era. One letter warned girls to keep their purses with them at all times as leaving them in the cloakrooms provided ‘Temptation for the weak minded amongst our community.’ The thought that I ever received a letter written in such a style makes me feel far older that I thought poor Judith D actually was.

But all in all, a great afternoon, and hopefully some old friendships have been truly revived once again.

Guess the price

2009-07-16T14:18:00.005+01:00

of obtaining a visa, advertised by the Chinese Embassy as costing £30.00, to enter China as a tourist.

You might suppose as I did that it would be £30.00 but you would be wrong like I was.

Because you were recommended a company called Visa Swift by travel agents arranging your trip you might expect to pay something on top of £30.00 for their service, but you would probably expect that something on top to be half way reasonable. But no.

You might expect that the website of Visa Swift to which the travel agents directed you, would make their charges clear. Wrong again.

You might even expect that if you spoke to not one of their representatives but to two, trying to ascertain just exactly what it was they needed from you that charges might have been explained. Just plain wrong.

You might not expect to be charged £109.14 per visa (My children are coming on this trip too).

It has taken me four days to be able to speak of this. I've done the tears, I've done the blind fury. Now I just want to warn as many people as possible not to use these charlatans who say they can help you obtain a travel visa.

(Not exactly impressed with the travel agents either.)

P.S. Before anyone thinks that if I can afford for my whole family to go to China I can afford the cost of the visas, the same lovely woman who took us to South Africa, Lapland, Dublin and Egypt is paying for this further trip of a lifetime. In that respect I do of course know that I am incredibly lucky, and it is that thought that has just about enabled me to calm down over the visa charges.

To laugh or to cry?

2009-07-15T12:35:00.004+01:00

My favourite obsession - yes, I have been on the Daily Mail website AGAIN - has photos of Jerry Hall on the beach. Aged 53, shock, horror, the Daily Mail who is so notoriously hard to please when it comes to women's bodies, is quite impressed.

But not so all their commentators. I give you the words of 'A' from Aldershot:

She looks nothing at all special to me. And if she didn't have all that money and time to spend on herself i dread to think what she'd look like. Sorry, but it is a fact that a woman's appeal fades away over the age of around 40, whereas a man can remain ferttile and attractive into his 80s. I'm 82, my girlfriend is 29 and a model.
- a, Aldershot, 15/7/2009 8:44

Any suggestions as to how one could respond politely to such a total arsehole/ fantastist?

Or should we just torture him to death?

Have you seen this chicken?

2009-07-14T12:34:00.002+01:00

Police are appealing for information after two men climbed a garden fence to steal a chicken from a Northampton garden.

Witnesses or anyone with information about the whereabouts of the chicken is asked to contact police on 03000 111 222 or Crimestoppers anonymously on 0800 555 111.

B is for

2009-07-13T12:58:00.003+01:00

Is for Brighton, but it always cold when I go to Brighton – even when the rest of the country was enjoying a heatwave back in 2006 it managed to be cold when I went to Brighton with Reidski so I am not going to write about that. It is also for Bocastle in Cornwall, but I wrote about my visit there back in February and one must try not to repeat oneself.

And it is for Beijing – only I haven’t been there (yet, but thanks to me having the most generous friend in the entire universe, I will be going there in August).

So today B is for Birmingham. I went to Birmingham in April. I didn’t write about it then as I needed some time to get over it...and when I was over it, I had managed to blank it from my memory bank, but now it all comes back to me in its full technicolor horror. I do not refer here to Birmingham itself but to the reason that I was in Birmingham....

‘Dancing on Ice Live’.

Let’s get that part over with first. I got stuck with taking three teenage girls to see this show for reasons previously mentioned here. It was, shall we say, an experience of the grit your teeth and pretend you are having a good time variety.
It was taking place at the National Indoor Arena.

Now I freely acknowledge that I am a snob but oh dear! The state of most of the people there was a sight to behold, not previously encountered since last time I was in Skegness on August Bank Holiday Monday. All low life was there. Tattoos everywhere, ill fitting clothes, skirts up past their arses on women who really should have asked the bum question* before leaving home, foul language every time they opened their mouths and disgusting fast food in their paws. Have I sufficiently proved that I am a snob yet? But you get the (not very pretty) picture.

Worse was to follow though as we had – oh my fucking god no! – a warm up man to deal with. I will say something for the assorted chavs and chavettes – they do know how to give their all to the Birdie Song. As I was personally being very closely monitored by my daughter for the merest hint that I was not having the time of my life, I sang
"Hey, hey hey baby!
I want to know if you'll be my girl
Hey, hey hey hey hey, baby
C'mon, baby now..... " whilst waving my arms in the air and shaking my booty with the best (worst) of them.

It was all completely hideous.

And just when I thought things had got as bad as they were going to get, I found out Andi Peters was our host for the evening.

Oh alright then – some of it was quite good I suppose. Torvill and Dean did Bolero. Todd Carty still couldn’t skate but comes across as a helluva nice guy, and the main thing was that the girls I took loved every single second of it.

But back to Birmingham...that city with such a terrible image amongst those of us who don’t know the place. Here are some random facts about Birmingham.

In the Doomsday book Birmingham is mentioned as a village worth 20 shillings. The city's reputation was forged as a powerhouse of the Industrial Revolution in England, a fact which led to Birmingham being known as "the workshop of the world". Now like everywhere else in this country it is mainly reliant upon the service sector for its economic wellbeing. Crossroads was made in Birmingham. Neville Chamberlain was from Birmingham. So was Enoch Powell - and Ozzy Osbourne. Musically there seems to be some kind of a theme with the likes of Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, Napalm Death, Electric Light Orchestra and Led Zeppelin all hailing from this city. That explains the profusion of Brummie accents when Reidski went to the Download festival last summer. More to my particular liking are The Streets, Steel Pulse, UB40, The Beat, and Editors. (How can the likes of Liverpool, Manchester and Sheffield compete with a musical legacy like that eh?) The city currently has two Premiership football teams - Aston Villa and another one whose name escapes me. We must thank Birmingham inventors for numerous innovations, including custard powder.

The day we went there was spent here, wandering along the canals and stopping off for drinks and pasta en route, and it was absolutely fantastic. I was massively impressed with this vibrant and exciting area, and came away from Birmingham determined to return sometime very soon – only I do not intend to see Dancing on Ice Live again some time ever!

* Answer – yes it does.

Dot

2009-07-13T10:03:00.002+01:00

We have a family friend called Dot who has recently been very poorly. Luckily she is now on the road to recovery but is at present unable to return to her home while she convalesces.

My mum went to see her at the weekend. As she entered the room she heard Dot flatly refusing to take the medication she was being offered. Mum asked her what the problem was. "Huh!" says Dot. "I am NOT taking any of their medicines. THEY say I have got a heart problem. Doctor P told me there is nothing whatsoever wrong with my heart. No way am I taking any of their so called heart medicine. Look what happened to Michael Jackson."

Dot is 90.

Maybe it is being so careful that has helped her live as long as she has?

Silversun Pickups - "Lazy Eye" (Single Edit Version)

2009-07-10T10:52:00.001+01:00

Seen on Tuesday night - fantastic stuff.

The rewards of friendship

2009-07-09T12:12:00.004+01:00

I am always on the look out for good offers.

Gyms are of course often keen to encourage their members to introduce their friends to the joys of gym membership and often offer incentives – eg if one introduces a mate to the gym and they sign up you will receive a gym bag, or some nice toiletries etc etc.

Anyway, in the past two weeks leaflets and posters have appeared in profusion at my gym – Virgin Active – that encourages us to be ‘Active Amigos’. ‘Friendship’ as they say on the front of the leaflet ‘ is so rewarding’.

So how rewarding exactly is friendship?

Well this scheme aims to get four of our friends to join Virgin Active through our recommendation.

I don’t know what the average monthly charge is for my gym, but I pay £40 and have done for years under a scheme that I signed up for ages ago that guaranteed no price increases whilst one remains a member. I assume therefore that the average charge per month is higher than £40 but let’s stick with that amount to discover how rewarding friendship actually is.

Now if I get one of my friends to sign up – and the minimum contract is for 12 months - my reward will be a water bottle. Yes! A whole water bottle all of my own! Virgin Active meanwhile would get £480. So far so rewarding.

If a second of my friends signs up my reward will be a towel. You can see that it is starting to get quite an exciting prospect now. A water bottle AND a towel! I can scarcely dream of such things. Virgin Active get £960.

Friend number three signs up (have I actually got that many friends I am just wondering?) I get a whole hour’s worth of personal training – worth £22, during which I can drink out of my water bottle, and after which I can dry myself on my towel. How rewarding is that? Virgin Active are so incredibly generous aren’t they? They get £1,440.

Anyone who has actually bothered to stick with this will be desperate to know what reward I can expect should friend number four sign up. Well I would get a whole entire month’s free membership which you may recall is for me £40. Now you are talking Mr Branson pal! Virgin Active would get £1,920. This scheme is clearly very rewarding indeed – for some company of other.

As you can imagine I was completely enthused when reading about how friendship was so incredibly rewarding and how I stood to receive a water bottle. I was therefore all set to start work on coercing four unsuspecting mates to join Virgin Active – they would not need to know there would be SO much in it for me. But hang on just one moment. What are these dreaded words I see? 'Terms and conditions apply.’

I check out the small print to read that ‘All prizes must be redeemed before 30th June 2009.’
(My highlighting - not theirs.)

So actually should (in a parallel universe where the impossible is possible) four of my friends to actually take up gym membership at my recommendation Virgin Active would get £1,920 – and I would in fact get, rather than the as advertised practically fuck all, absolutely fuck all.

A truly brilliant marketing ploy wouldn’t you say?

Post script.

Bizarrely this post has today attracted numerous visits from the same IP address. Mr Branson is it you? If it is you and you are concerned that I am pointing out just how crap this offer is, please note that I am open to bribery and can easily be persuaded to say how great Virgin Active offers are for a sum of money to be negotiated. E-mail me!

A is for

2009-07-06T09:55:00.003+01:00

Achurch.

I am a neglectful blogger these days but I just had an idea for when I am stuck for something to write about. An A-Z of places I have been. The idea may well have been prompted by my walk last weekend that took me to Achurch. That is not (for a change) a typo. The photo is of me at a church in
Achurch. A tiny Northamptonshire village that until my walk took me there (twice) I didn't know existed. The reason it took me there twice was because instead of consulting an Ordnance Survey map, I pulled a pub walk directions off the internet and followed it blindly, but it was still a little bizarre when some three quarters of an hour after leaving Achurch, I found I was back in Achurch and still with four miles of the walk to go (in the rain)(without a jacket)(I don't like to complain).

So what can I tell you about Achurch? The church in Achurch has a well preserved tomb of a crusader from 1200 and something, which is quite impressive, and the guy who designed the First World War recruiting poster 'Your Country Needs You' was from there. I wonder how many men died because they responded to that?* Humm, that's about all I can tell you apart from the countryside around it is lovely.

So let's hope that if this series ever gets as far as B, that place will have had a bit more going on than a sleepy hamlet in the heart of the English countryside has had in the past 800 years.

* Reidski takes the piss out of me as whenever we visit some kind of amazing structure I always find myself asking him how many people he thinks may have died in the construction of the palace/cathedral/bridge - delete as appropriate. I am a terminally boring person to go anywhere with!

Words fail me

2009-07-02T12:13:00.003+01:00

but I am going to have a go at expressing just how angry I feel right now on behalf of someone whose name I don't even know.

All I do know of this person is that she is female, in her late 40's, and she just happens to be the mother of the girl the tabloids tell us is 'The Nation's Sweetheart' aka Mrs Cheryl Cole.

So it seems that last night Mrs Cole had a birthday do and along came her mum. Lots of show biz 'pals' and lots of paparazzi along of course to get the photos of Mrs Cole and show biz 'pals'. So for, so 'Who gives a fuck?' And yet, not content with taking the photos of various members of Girls Aloud and Simon Cowell they somehow feel that Cheryl's mum is fair game too. They take a photo of her sitting in a car,which various papers have elected to print this morning, to graphically illustrate that this woman (who as far as I am aware has never done anything to court any publicity) has come out without knickers under her dress.

I can't start to imagine how humiliated this woman must feel. She would presumably never have dreamt in her worst nightmares that anyone would ever pay so much attention to her that they would even bother to take a photo of her - let alone a photo like that. What has she ever done to deserve such a thing? And what the hell have we come to as a society that not only do they take such a photo, but apparently it is worth good money to the photographer concerned because the papers have paid for it, and they have printed it.

Bad enough that as Gill pointed out earlier this week certain sections of the media are obsessed with printing unbecoming photos of people in the public eye, but when it is some woman who just happens to be attending her daughter's birthday party you have to wonder just how low these scumbags working in this area will end up stooping. What are the limits to ones connection to a famous person that will ensure one will NOT attract the attention of those prying lenses? I'm quite worried myself actually. Does the fact that I met Trigger and spoke with him for all of five minutes mean I now have to build security gates round my garden to prevent the paparazzi taking photos of me sunbathing? "Who is Trigger's mystery female friend, and what does she think she looks like in that M&S bikini?"

Tempting, but no thanks

2009-06-30T14:33:00.003+01:00

Or at least I hope that will be the reaction of fans of Michael Jackson who spent a ridiculous amount of money on a ticket for a show that ain't going to happen, to this 'once in a lifetime' offer.

"For the price of a ticket to see a show you can have a ticket NOT to see a show." FF's S.

You know that

2009-06-26T09:47:00.002+01:00

something seriously weird is going on in the world when you hear the words:

"We interrupt this news broadcast to bring you the thoughts of Uri Geller."

I did not dream that. It genuinely did happen on a Radio 5 late night programme that was clearly struggling with the fact that a major news story had broken when they were totally unprepared to deal with it.

I remember hearing the first news of Elvis's death which on News at Ten was initially reported thus: "We have just heard that Elvis Presley is dead. Erhh, no he's not. Erhh. we have unconfirmed reports that Elvis Presley is dead." So that really cleared that up for the listening public.

And when in future years I am asked "Where were you Jane when you heard about the death of Michael Jackson?" I will instantly recall that I was attempting to have a wee in peace and quiet but failed due to my daughter's hysterical reaction upon learning of the news the modern way - via Facebook.

MJ is (was) only a few months older than me. I can still remember exactly how sweet he was singing about how 'Ben' had a friend in him. I wonder how many true friends he ever had in his lifetime?

Those of you

2009-06-24T14:19:00.006+01:00

who have been kind enough to have stuck with me over several years of blogging may recall that I got myself into all sorts of nasty brown stuff when I wrote about a certain ex-friend who works for a company that distributes what we will refer to here as Portable Rubbish Disposal Units. Therefore I have thought long and hard about whether to mention this, and find I am unable to resist.

What does it say about the madness that is Middle England when on the first day of this 'campaign' before the morning was out they had had over 300 comments about said Portable Rubbish Disposal Units? Mind you - it is all quite shocking. Do you know that some poor women are forced to push their PRDU's over a distance of literally YARDS from the backs of their houses to enable those nasty smelly council disposal men to empty them? (Not quite on the same scale as walking miles to fetch the water is it?)

Councils are apparently 'ignoring protests, petitions and marches' in their haste to issue households with these monstrosities. What? Run that past me again? Protest, petitions and marches? WHO in their right mind bothers to take part in an anti- PRDU march? Does anyone know of one that has been organised as I would have to go along - it sounds hilarious.

If you feel life is probably too short to bother with the entire article (or indeed to go on an anti - PRDU march) I will just highlight this particular gem for you:

Politicians and celebrities are joining the fight. Shadow Local Government Minister Bob Neill said: 'Households up and down the country are being hit by the curse of PDRU's - an obsession of bin bureaucrats. Obsessed bin bureaucrats! They sound like fun people. I want to meet one of them too! (Are we really shortly to be electing a government made up of people who genuinely believe in the existance of obsessed bin bureacrats?)

But here is in fairness a good point: And without plastic bins, (Richmond) locals are free to enjoy their front gardens or walk down the pavement without bumping into a bin. Though having acknowledged in true liberal fashion that that is such a good point I would mention that I have the things (two of them) but still find that as a general rule I am capable of walking down the pavement without bumping into one - but then may be I tend to do that old fashioned thing of looking where I am going? I also manage to feel fairly free to enjoy my front garden.....except for that sodding bindweed of course.

Anyway, how about a campaign for the return of the good old days when we used black bin bags? They were great weren't they, especially when they tended to spilt sending rubbish blowing about all over the road. Our local rats will be joining this campaign forthwith.

(Please don't mention W.B's here! google is all powerful - and don't I have good reaosn to know it!)

An 'Oh my God' moment

2009-06-22T15:42:00.003+01:00

As you know I live in the sticks. Therefore it is not every day that I am at the same house party as a comedy legend. Last Saturday however....

Reidski and I were at a party in Kentish Town. We had been there long enough to have knocked back more that one glass of champagne so my defences were not at their sharpest when I saw this man walk into the kitchen. You know when you look at someone and just know that you know them, but you can not place them? I had that moment - and was smiling in welcome at this familiar face approaching me and smiling back with what I now recognise must be a 'This is how I smile at complete strangers when they know who I am' sort of smile. It took me a little while for my brain to process the information that I was smiling at TRIGGER!!!!

I did talk to him later but as the subject was the difficulty of using a knife and fork to eat whilst standing up at a party I fear I may have failed to dazzle him with my own brand of wit and repartee.

I thought

2009-06-19T16:37:00.002+01:00

this was funny.

And if school sports days I have been to are anything to go by, John Lewis are going to be inundated.

Absence

2009-06-19T12:09:00.003+01:00

Well it has been a while hasn't it?

What glamorous holiday have I been on this time you may ask?

Well I have been down to New Cross in South East London since I was last in touch for one night, but I have been further than that actually because I have been back in time.

Back to that long distant era when workers used old fashioned implements like pens and paper to work with.

Basically a week last Thursday a virus was let loose on the computer systems where I work and had the effect of knocking out an entire network of some 5,000 machines for an entire week.

Technology is bloody marvellous isn't?

Or at least it is when it works.

It is a beautiful world

2009-06-16T22:08:00.000+01:00

Isn't it?

Great quote

2009-06-08T15:31:00.001+01:00

from David Blunkett:

"I know the public are furious with politicians, but I didn't realise the anger has spread to Britain's cow population, too."

It is

2009-06-08T11:44:00.003+01:00

65 years since countless young men lost their lives on D-Day, defending Europe against the Nazis. Ironic then that on the weekend of that anniversary we send a couple of Nazis along to represent our country in the European Parliament.

The winning candidate for Yorkshire and Humberside Andrew Brons (A former leader of the National Front with a 40-year history in far-right politics) said that “Despite the misrepresentation, we have managed to win through.” However Nick Griffin, another winning candidate, and leader of the BNP says "We are not a racist party."

I would therefore say "In spite of the misrepresentation the Nazi scum have managed to win through."

Don't you just love your annual appraisal?

2009-06-03T14:00:00.006+01:00

One of the special joys for me is asking my colleagues to provide me with a 360 degree appraisal form - ie, ask everyone from the Head of Service to the caretaker what they think of me and my work. It is always so embarrassing to read so much praise about moi, moi, moi. And obviously I love the opportunity to complete them on behalf of my much valued colleagues: "So and so is a skiving toss bag."

And it's appraisal time again folks. (Yes, so soon after with much sighing of 'Thank god that shite is over for another year' we finished the last ones.)

But wait! What is this that comes down to us from the new powers that be? It is our new 360 degree appraisal form! Hark for what is this I hear?

The excitement!

The consternation?

The howls of derision.

SO last year is responding to whether or not our various team members:

1. Always do what they say they will

2. take responsibility

3. learn from their mistakes

4. strive for excellence

5. act on facts

6. treat people fairly.

Not for this go ahead organisation matey boy - oh no.

Instead we are invited to mark each other on a scale to 1-4 under the following (mystifying) headings:

1. Get on the bus / Lets go faster. (The first bus out of town?)

2. Treat people as human / Team N------shire (Treat people as human? That's a new one on me.)

3. Make Staff future proof / Golden Roller Skate ( Botox us? And Golden Roller Skate? That's crystal clear what they are asking there isn't it? (Any suggestions gratefully received as I am going to have to work with this.) )

4. Taste the Small Red Fruit* (The Times may say that but I couldn't possibly comment.)

5. Deliver on promises / Deliver, deliver, deliver (Do they want us to deliver perchance?)

6. Face it / Tackle wicked issues ( In the modern or traditional sense of the word 'wicked'?)

7. Do your job /Job plus (They want us to do our job??? What will they want next - blood?)

8. Develop a toolkit / Nimble and savvy (This one has totally defeated me. I have absolutely no idea what they are asking here. More suggestions anyone? )

It's Management Speak gone mad I tell ya!

In fact I would go further and say it is management gone mad. Does it not occur to them upstairs that the ordinary employee has not the first idea how we are supposed to use those headings as any kind of a basis for a meaningful appraisal system? Does it also not occur to them that the reaction of the ordinary employee to such headings will inevitably be along the lines of "What a load of bollocks."

* Rhymes with Law and is a berry. Just being aware of google searches here.

P.S. The power of google led me to discover ours is not the only rebranding going on. See here for the unfortunate result of paying vast sums of money to a London design company. I like the article's heading: 'UK Office of Government Commerce cracks one off.'

Who might he have in mind I wonder?

2009-06-01T14:58:00.002+01:00

When Max Clifford says people in Boyle's situation "need people around them to understand how the business works."

When Reidski

2009-06-01T12:23:00.005+01:00

has blogged more recently than I have I know just how remiss I have been attending to this place.

I do so have an excuse, and it isn't that I have sod all to talk about. On the contrary, I could sit here and write all day on the subject of why Northampton So Called 'University' is the crappiest teaching organisation in Britain (I don't want to think there is anywhere worse), but I will spare you that rant and just say that it would have been nice to have had more than two days notice that in addition to my assignment there was a little matter of an evidence grid to submit, which ran to 18 pages by the time I had finally finished the thing.

That evidence grid was all the more difficult to complete because last week whilst I was physically here in Northampton, my mind was very much still wishing I was eleswhere as I couldn't get how lovely Pembrokeshire was out of my head.

We stayed here. I cannot recommend this place highly enough, and the fact that it only cost us £99 each for a four night stay is practically day light robbery for that standard of accommodation.

I had never been to this area of Wales before and I just fell in love with the place. We were lucky with the weather, only getting soaked to the skin briefly the twice. (For the benefit of Joe in Las Vegas, that definitely counts as being lucky for any break taken in Britain in mid May.) For the rest of the time, deep blue sky and sunshine ruled, although granted the suntans we both came back with may have owed more to the wind than to the heat of the sun.

I think it is arguably quite good if the last day of any given break/holiday is the worst day as that makes it easier to return home. Our last day was I think our best. Coming home was shite! Anyway, on that particular day we went across to the St David's peninsular. Wow, wow and thrice wow! It was completely stunning, with an absolute profusion of wild flowers simply covering the cliffs all the way down to the rocks at the bottom. And as I had temporarily morphed into a twitcher whilst I was in Wales - we saw SO many different birds - if only I knew what on earth they all were that would have been good - this day was a real highlight. We took a boat trip around Ramsey Island where there were literally thousands of nesting sea birds on the cliffs, as well as flying in each and every direction around us. And they weren't nasty old sea gulls either. They were pretty! As was the island itself as hopefully this second photo will illustrate.

We saw seals too, and choughs, which are apparently some of the rarest birds to be found in Britain and who nest on Ramsey Island.

The perfect day (almost)ended with the perfect seaside food - fish and chips with mushy peas, from a fabulous chip shop in Tenby listed here at No. 5 in the best fish and chip list according to the Independent. (Just noticed Reidski and I have also visited the one at No. 9. This could become my next mission - to visit each of the ones listed.)

As to what the perfect day really did end with, I leave that to your imagination. But believe me when I say that that was pretty much perfect too.