... as I realised a huge number of months have flowed under the bridge of time since I last put fingers to keyboard and tormented you all with my rants and observations... Sorry guys.
NO excuses - to quote my grandmother 'Never apologise, never explain' - but merely a promise I'll try to do better. If any of my old teachers are reading this, please try to suspend your disbelief - leopards CAN change their spots, honest.
Thursday, 9 September 2010
Thursday, 26 November 2009
A load of old...
...rubbish.
Every two weeks on those Thursday nights when Troll is cosily holed up in the AAMC (where, naturally, Real Life does not intrude) a casual observer may be forgiven for thinking Chateau Angevin is the venue for a meeting of the Invent An Original Swear Word Convention. For once, this is not due to my having found something on the BBC News Website to offend my delicate sensibilities but because it is, horror of horrors, Bin Night.
I loathe taking the bins out. I loathe the fact I have to wheel the bins 100 yards down my drive because the idle binmen won't drive up into my yard to collect them (note, however, this does not stop various men in white vans using my yard as a turning circle several times a week - subject for another blog there sometime methinks). I loathe the necessity of removing the full bin bag from my kitchen bin into the large dark grey dumpster type bin the local council so thoughtfully provide. I loathe anything to do with bins in fact - their lack of aesthetic appeal, their smell and even those naff products you can buy which claim to get rid of the latter. BUT most of all I absolutely loathe, detest and revile the fact that the local council imposed a TWO WEEKLY cycle of collections on us.
Yes, gentle non-UK readers, you read that correctly. In this so-called First World civilised country in which I reside my rubbish is now only collected every two weeks, a fact which makes me virtually froth at the mouth. We are told this is because if we organise ourselves correctly, and separate out our rubbish into the correct receptacles helpfully provided by the council we should only NEED our rubbish collecting fortnightly - an outright lie which merely reinforces my belief that outside Chateau Angevin people live off ready meals and junkfood. For example, the little green bin we are given for food waste, which the council assure us will be composted once they collect it, is only about a cubic foot square. WHO ARE THEY KIDDING? I can almost fill that space with vegetable peelings from ONE MEAL, God alone knows what I'd do if I actually used the flipping thing for real rather than flinging my peelings on my own compost heap (oh no, you aren't getting any help from me, District Council in your cunning scheme to collect scraps free from people and then get them to pay you good money for it when it's been composted... I'm not that daft, thank you very much). I could go on about the inappropriate features of the various other receptacles we have been given for the various other forms of waste we produce but you get the picture...
I am angry and resentful NOW about this situation - I will leave you all to imagine just how incandescent I'm going to be if the Council carry out their threat of microchipping the bins to check we are all being good boys and girls and not putting anything we shouldn't in there - and merely make the point this is meant to be BRITAIN in 2009, not East Germany circa 1980 with the Stazi in control of rubbish collection.
I would also make the point that so far nobody at the Council has been able to adequately explain to me why Malta, one of the poorest countries in the EU with a population of half a million or so, manages to have DAILY rubbish collections whereas us Brits can only manage a piss-poor fortnightly one. Answers on a postcard please, readers....
Every two weeks on those Thursday nights when Troll is cosily holed up in the AAMC (where, naturally, Real Life does not intrude) a casual observer may be forgiven for thinking Chateau Angevin is the venue for a meeting of the Invent An Original Swear Word Convention. For once, this is not due to my having found something on the BBC News Website to offend my delicate sensibilities but because it is, horror of horrors, Bin Night.
I loathe taking the bins out. I loathe the fact I have to wheel the bins 100 yards down my drive because the idle binmen won't drive up into my yard to collect them (note, however, this does not stop various men in white vans using my yard as a turning circle several times a week - subject for another blog there sometime methinks). I loathe the necessity of removing the full bin bag from my kitchen bin into the large dark grey dumpster type bin the local council so thoughtfully provide. I loathe anything to do with bins in fact - their lack of aesthetic appeal, their smell and even those naff products you can buy which claim to get rid of the latter. BUT most of all I absolutely loathe, detest and revile the fact that the local council imposed a TWO WEEKLY cycle of collections on us.
Yes, gentle non-UK readers, you read that correctly. In this so-called First World civilised country in which I reside my rubbish is now only collected every two weeks, a fact which makes me virtually froth at the mouth. We are told this is because if we organise ourselves correctly, and separate out our rubbish into the correct receptacles helpfully provided by the council we should only NEED our rubbish collecting fortnightly - an outright lie which merely reinforces my belief that outside Chateau Angevin people live off ready meals and junkfood. For example, the little green bin we are given for food waste, which the council assure us will be composted once they collect it, is only about a cubic foot square. WHO ARE THEY KIDDING? I can almost fill that space with vegetable peelings from ONE MEAL, God alone knows what I'd do if I actually used the flipping thing for real rather than flinging my peelings on my own compost heap (oh no, you aren't getting any help from me, District Council in your cunning scheme to collect scraps free from people and then get them to pay you good money for it when it's been composted... I'm not that daft, thank you very much). I could go on about the inappropriate features of the various other receptacles we have been given for the various other forms of waste we produce but you get the picture...
I am angry and resentful NOW about this situation - I will leave you all to imagine just how incandescent I'm going to be if the Council carry out their threat of microchipping the bins to check we are all being good boys and girls and not putting anything we shouldn't in there - and merely make the point this is meant to be BRITAIN in 2009, not East Germany circa 1980 with the Stazi in control of rubbish collection.
I would also make the point that so far nobody at the Council has been able to adequately explain to me why Malta, one of the poorest countries in the EU with a population of half a million or so, manages to have DAILY rubbish collections whereas us Brits can only manage a piss-poor fortnightly one. Answers on a postcard please, readers....
Monday, 9 November 2009
Remind me not to read the BBC News Website!
Because, ONCE AGAIN, I've found something which makes me so cross only the blessed relief of putting fingers to keyboard is going to get it out of my system.
The article today is built around the results of a survey conducted by the Welsh Tourist Board:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/wales/8349935.stm
The report starts off with the phrase "Wales is "slightly old-fashioned" and the Welsh are "not friendly" in the minds of some potential visitors to the country, research has found." Those who know me in real life will probably be able to accurately assess the explosion which that would have generated at Chateau Angevin; suffice it to say it was not a pretty sight. Reading a bit further into the report it seems that - surprise surprise - what's actually caused the problem here is the English characteristically objecting to the use of the Welsh language. (Note, the Irish didn't have a problem with it and actually thought it was a good thing).
To me, that says a whole lot more about English insecurity than it does supposed Welsh unfriendliness. I am sick to the back teeth of hearing tales of visiting a shop where the other shoppers 'spoke in Welsh so I didn't understand them' - what the hell makes these people think the Welsh were speaking English beforehand and changed to Welsh just to be nasty to them? Does it never cross their bigoted little minds the likelihood is, especially in the North or West Wales, the other shoppers were indeed speaking Welsh before the grand entrance of the English Tourist and merely carried on their conversations? Oh, silly me, of course it wouldn't; everybody should speak English, now, shouldn't they? After all, the English have done their best over the past 1,000 years or so to eradicate Welsh culture HOW DARE the naughty Welsh continue to have their own language and use it??
If I am quite honest, in some ways I can understand, if not condone a bit of linguistic exclusion versus the English, after all, it's only the Welsh getting a little of their own back. Welsh was banned as a teaching medium in schools from the C19th onwards and matters got quite humiliating and vicious as such things usually do. My grandfather used to often talk of the times he was hauled up in front of the whole school and a board put round his neck with 'Spoke Welsh' on it after a teacher had caught him speaking in Welsh to his peers; and of the times he was slippered for continuing to do so. His only comfort was that oft as not his brothers and sister were up there too, along with a fair few other children from his village - can you just imagine the outcry now if a teacher took part in institutional humiliation of this nature and made a child wear a board with 'Spoke Urdu' or similar scrawled on it? We are talking about the early years of the C20th here, a time still just about in living memory, and it was only comparatively recently that discrimination against Welsh speakers was halted when the 1993 Welsh Language Act repealed a law, dating back to Henry VIII, which disqualified Welsh speakers from holding administrative office.
As aforementioned, I don't think it's RIGHT the English should be made to feel uncomfortable when they go on holiday to Wales, but on some levels it's understandable. Perhaps we should make as big a fuss about all the Welsh-English back history as the descendants of the slaves have done about the wrongs done to their ancestors (which, note, was considerably further in the past than 1993) - ask Gordon Brown to say 'Sorry' to us, shall we? Oh dear, Gordon Brown's SCOTTISH - and there's a whole other can of worms I'm not about to dive into today ... Anyway the chances of the English apologising are zero because apart from only letting their version of events be told in the first place, the teaching of history in English schools is close to non-existent (see blogs passim) as regards anything meaningful: Wales to them is a backward little place to be exploited for cheap labour, cheap holidays and cheap gags about sheep. Oh, and to be cursed when our little nation of 3m manage to put together a rugby team which can beat the English on a surprisingly frequent basis....
Which brings me to my next point - the other comment in this report which got me spluttering my tea across the kitchen was one person having the cheek to say 'I think Wales is almost like Birmingham's playground in a way, you can go mountain biking, beaches, you've got the walking..'. The words 'patronising', 'arrogant' and 'demeaning' come to mind - HOW DARE that person regard my country as a 'playground'? (My thoughts about Birmingham are pretty unprintable, suffice it to say 'playground' would not feature largely, although 'cesspool' might make an appearance).
And, pray, what is so wrong with being 'old-fashioned'? If that means being Welsh means having greater family ties, showing some respect to society and people around you, and being generally more full of the attributes whose passing is lamented almost daily when the English press comment on 'modern society', then I am more proud than ever of being Welsh. As one American visitor put it "I think the fact that Wales is slightly old-fashioned is one of its most endearing charms. It's a throwback to a simpler life with strong family values. I've been going to Wales every year for 15 years and have always found the Welsh people to be wonderfully warm and welcoming." So stuff that up your oh-so-modern-socially-dysfunctional bottoms, and leave us alone, dissatisfied English contributors to this survey: bugger off to Ayia Napa with your modern values and patronise the indigenous population there. There are 1.5 Americans who claim Welsh ancestry and that's a nice big pool for us to go fishing in with our tourist attractions, and I doubt they'd make so much fuss if they heard somebody speaking Welsh. They probably don't get so bladdered and tolerate their teenage girls having sex with every available local male whilst on holiday either.
Jonathan Jones of Visit Wales is quoted in this report as saying "What we have got to make sure is when tourists come here they are treated properly." True... but it makes no recognition of the fact that tourists should BEHAVE properly when they're in somebody else's country: ie. not call it a 'playground', wander around the mountains in blizzard conditions wearing jeans and trainers (and expecting the Mountain Rescue personnel to endanger themselves to save them) and treat the local people like lesser-evolved beings put on the planet to cater to their needs whatever they may be. Like it or not, the English have got an justifiably appalling reputation around the world for their holiday antics and perhaps some public money should be spent on attempting to put this right rather than wasting it on asking them what they think of Wales?
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Not quite sure where the end of October went
.. because, despite the date appearing on the top of this item, I'm actually putting fingers to keyboard on 3rd November and the last post I made on here was eons ago!. In truth, I did start to write a post on the specified date but for various reasons didn't get to finish it... so instead, I'll open November's batting with it - and hope my readership approve of my green attitude towards recycling hehe.
What I got worked up about this time was the fuss about the BBC's Question Time which included the leader of the BNP, Nick Griffin.
I'd like to state right now that I find this guy's (and his party's) political viewpoint absolutely abhorrent, and to give them credit, it came across loud and clear that everybody on the panel and most of the audience shares my opinion. What I found distressing was not his presence so much as it didn't seem to me that any of the representatives of the major political parties seemed able to see beyond their disgust for him and what he stands for and realise just what a dangerous person he is. I use that word very carefully, because I am very firmly of the opinion that he and his pals are a major threat and one which the more liberal political movements need to take very seriously indeed.
Packing the studio with people calculated to be on the opposing side to Mr Griffin, although understandable, was monumentally stupid and an act of cowardice on the part of the BBC, I would suggest, as all it did was play into the man's hands and hand him the opportunity to claim the exercise was a 'witchhunt' (which indeed he later, unsurprisingly, did). All we actually saw was everybody ganging up on Mr Griffin (rightly of course), but as a result I doubt whether anybody watching who might be tempted to support the man would have had their minds changed on the fundamentals - rather the opposite in fact. It would have been a substantially more interesting and valuable exercise if the Beeb had found a few more BNP members or general supporters to form some of the audience; then a reasonable and more even-handed debate might have ensued - which just might have exposed the BNP to be the repulsive organisation it in fact is. All we saw really, was evidence, as if any more were needed, that we DO NOT live in a country where free speech is tolerated - and if anybody is under any illusions about that just remember that if you make a statement which is judged to be inciting racial hatred you are liable for prosecution. In saying that I am not saying it is desireable that anybody DOES promote racial hatred, but rather that we cannot pretend we have free speech when we clearly do not and in some ways we might be a more healthy (and certainly less internationally hypocritical) society if we were more able to tolerate listening to views we find repugnant. See my comments further below on this one...
Part of my unease about the whole BNP/Nick Griffin shebang stems from the fact that if media representations are to be believed I know exactly what section of society Mr Griffin and his party colleagues are targeting, where their main support lies, and which buttons they are pressing to hit that target audience: I know, because I grew up amongst it. I am not talking about the skinhead, 'bovver boy' element traditionally associated with the BNP (or the National Front as it was known in those days), although admittedly there were a fair few of those around my neighbourhood when I was a child, but rather the largely honest, 'salt of the earth' working-class people who form the majority of the communities in which the BNP have had their successes lately.
Naturally, in discussing my youth, I am talking about the 1970s and 80s which, as anybody who has seen episodes of Life on Mars will know was culturally a rather different place: these days even 'ordinary people' - who from experience largely didn't (and still don't) raise an eyebrow at the casual racism and sexism back then - know there's a general feeling of unease if they start making too many unfavourable statements about coloured people, immigrants or 'stupid women'. However - and make no mistake about this - in private they still come out with viewpoints that would make Nick Griffin laugh all the way to Downing Street - AND HE KNOWS THIS which is probably why he was grinning like an ape at certain points this evening. I'm afraid the overwhelming impression I received from the rest of tonight's panel is that our mainstream politicians are delusional enough to believe that the majority of people in this country have swallowed the equality message wholesale and to be frank, this frightens the pants off me.
WHY they so obviously think this is beyond me; given that we now, to our shame, have two BNP MEPs and over a hundred councillors you think they would have twigged there is a problem and at least given some indication they mean to do something about it. Votes should after all, speak much louder than ever they or the repulsive Nick Griffin ever could. However, to me, they still seem hell bent on carrying on down the road which had created the environment where people feel so disillusioned with the mainstream political parties they feel there is no other choice than to vote BNP. To quote one of my favourite films - The American President - (which, by the way, isn't quite the lightweight chick-flik it might at first seem but does ask some fairly heavy questions amongst the Michael Douglas/Annette Bening generated froth) the way you get votes is to take people who are 'ordinary', who can perhaps remember with nostalgia better times, and then you scare the hell out of them so that they turn to whatever ideology you are peddling as an comforting alternative to the status quo. Nick Griffin and his foul party are past masters of this particular little ploy: they tell people that don't have a job or are on low wages, don't have adequate housing etc etc that the reason they are suffering is because the naughty government has let all the 'immigrants' in to take away the said jobs, money and houses from the honest hardworking British. Where have the BNP had the majority of their successes? - where there are large concentrations of minority groups and immigrant populations in working class areas.
The bottom line of all this is that I believe the political classes should wake up to the fact that the traditional 'working class' haven't changed their opinions very much in the last 40 or so years and they are still pretty bigoted when it comes down to issues of immigration and race. I would suggest the fact that for various reasons we've allowed the lentil-knitting mob to have their way and grab media attention with their over the top politically-correct initiatives has been the biggest factor ensuring the 'working classes' haven't been nudged into holding rather more tolerant views: because present your average blinkered working-class Brit with some of the off-the-scale garbage these people come out with almost guaranteed to result in blank incomprehension at best, and a stream of abusive invective at worst. Ultimately, and this is the uncomfortable fact a lot of people don't like facing, Brits, of whatever class, are generally inclined to be rather racist anyway; whether this is down to having been an imperial power in the not too distant past I wouldn't like to say, but in that sort of climate I'd argue shoving luvvie-generated material around willy-nilly in front of a largely pretty poorly-educated populace is calculated to merely generate ridicule rather than enlightenment and, more importantly, leave the door open for bigots such as Nick Griffin who are prepared to peddle a more superficially attractive ideology.
Whether Nick Griffin and his pals SHOULD be allowed to have their say is another matter which I touched on briefly above. I would argue that they indeed should - if only because by exposing their ideology to the light of open examination will it be shown up to be the nonsense it is. Make something secret, illicit or 'underground' and it initially becomes more attractive; that's human nature, unfortunately. Also, I'd like to believe we should be more inclined to free speech than we are; to again refer to The American President, the character Michael Douglas plays makes the point that we cannot just point to the flag, celebrate it, and say we are 'free' - we have to realise that real freedom is allowing people to revile and burn that flag if they so wish. Even if this means having to listen to views we find offensive or bigoted: such ideologies aren't going to just disappear if we merely deny people the right to voice them.
Unfortunately I don't have a suggestion as regards what we can DO about all this; again as in many of my rants, I would suggest the underlying problem is down to the lack of an enlightened, but realistic, educational philosophy in the UK. Solve that one, and we just might find a few other things are a lot easier to handle... in the meantime politicians in the mainstream parties need to get out on the streets in the BNP stronghold areas and confront the myths they are peddling; engage in open and honest debate. Not with more politically-correct, media-massaged information but with a bit of bald truth, however uncomfortable that might be. Alas, in the current climate I think the pigs are cleared and ready for take off on that one...
What I got worked up about this time was the fuss about the BBC's Question Time which included the leader of the BNP, Nick Griffin.
I'd like to state right now that I find this guy's (and his party's) political viewpoint absolutely abhorrent, and to give them credit, it came across loud and clear that everybody on the panel and most of the audience shares my opinion. What I found distressing was not his presence so much as it didn't seem to me that any of the representatives of the major political parties seemed able to see beyond their disgust for him and what he stands for and realise just what a dangerous person he is. I use that word very carefully, because I am very firmly of the opinion that he and his pals are a major threat and one which the more liberal political movements need to take very seriously indeed.
Packing the studio with people calculated to be on the opposing side to Mr Griffin, although understandable, was monumentally stupid and an act of cowardice on the part of the BBC, I would suggest, as all it did was play into the man's hands and hand him the opportunity to claim the exercise was a 'witchhunt' (which indeed he later, unsurprisingly, did). All we actually saw was everybody ganging up on Mr Griffin (rightly of course), but as a result I doubt whether anybody watching who might be tempted to support the man would have had their minds changed on the fundamentals - rather the opposite in fact. It would have been a substantially more interesting and valuable exercise if the Beeb had found a few more BNP members or general supporters to form some of the audience; then a reasonable and more even-handed debate might have ensued - which just might have exposed the BNP to be the repulsive organisation it in fact is. All we saw really, was evidence, as if any more were needed, that we DO NOT live in a country where free speech is tolerated - and if anybody is under any illusions about that just remember that if you make a statement which is judged to be inciting racial hatred you are liable for prosecution. In saying that I am not saying it is desireable that anybody DOES promote racial hatred, but rather that we cannot pretend we have free speech when we clearly do not and in some ways we might be a more healthy (and certainly less internationally hypocritical) society if we were more able to tolerate listening to views we find repugnant. See my comments further below on this one...
Part of my unease about the whole BNP/Nick Griffin shebang stems from the fact that if media representations are to be believed I know exactly what section of society Mr Griffin and his party colleagues are targeting, where their main support lies, and which buttons they are pressing to hit that target audience: I know, because I grew up amongst it. I am not talking about the skinhead, 'bovver boy' element traditionally associated with the BNP (or the National Front as it was known in those days), although admittedly there were a fair few of those around my neighbourhood when I was a child, but rather the largely honest, 'salt of the earth' working-class people who form the majority of the communities in which the BNP have had their successes lately.
Naturally, in discussing my youth, I am talking about the 1970s and 80s which, as anybody who has seen episodes of Life on Mars will know was culturally a rather different place: these days even 'ordinary people' - who from experience largely didn't (and still don't) raise an eyebrow at the casual racism and sexism back then - know there's a general feeling of unease if they start making too many unfavourable statements about coloured people, immigrants or 'stupid women'. However - and make no mistake about this - in private they still come out with viewpoints that would make Nick Griffin laugh all the way to Downing Street - AND HE KNOWS THIS which is probably why he was grinning like an ape at certain points this evening. I'm afraid the overwhelming impression I received from the rest of tonight's panel is that our mainstream politicians are delusional enough to believe that the majority of people in this country have swallowed the equality message wholesale and to be frank, this frightens the pants off me.
WHY they so obviously think this is beyond me; given that we now, to our shame, have two BNP MEPs and over a hundred councillors you think they would have twigged there is a problem and at least given some indication they mean to do something about it. Votes should after all, speak much louder than ever they or the repulsive Nick Griffin ever could. However, to me, they still seem hell bent on carrying on down the road which had created the environment where people feel so disillusioned with the mainstream political parties they feel there is no other choice than to vote BNP. To quote one of my favourite films - The American President - (which, by the way, isn't quite the lightweight chick-flik it might at first seem but does ask some fairly heavy questions amongst the Michael Douglas/Annette Bening generated froth) the way you get votes is to take people who are 'ordinary', who can perhaps remember with nostalgia better times, and then you scare the hell out of them so that they turn to whatever ideology you are peddling as an comforting alternative to the status quo. Nick Griffin and his foul party are past masters of this particular little ploy: they tell people that don't have a job or are on low wages, don't have adequate housing etc etc that the reason they are suffering is because the naughty government has let all the 'immigrants' in to take away the said jobs, money and houses from the honest hardworking British. Where have the BNP had the majority of their successes? - where there are large concentrations of minority groups and immigrant populations in working class areas.
The bottom line of all this is that I believe the political classes should wake up to the fact that the traditional 'working class' haven't changed their opinions very much in the last 40 or so years and they are still pretty bigoted when it comes down to issues of immigration and race. I would suggest the fact that for various reasons we've allowed the lentil-knitting mob to have their way and grab media attention with their over the top politically-correct initiatives has been the biggest factor ensuring the 'working classes' haven't been nudged into holding rather more tolerant views: because present your average blinkered working-class Brit with some of the off-the-scale garbage these people come out with almost guaranteed to result in blank incomprehension at best, and a stream of abusive invective at worst. Ultimately, and this is the uncomfortable fact a lot of people don't like facing, Brits, of whatever class, are generally inclined to be rather racist anyway; whether this is down to having been an imperial power in the not too distant past I wouldn't like to say, but in that sort of climate I'd argue shoving luvvie-generated material around willy-nilly in front of a largely pretty poorly-educated populace is calculated to merely generate ridicule rather than enlightenment and, more importantly, leave the door open for bigots such as Nick Griffin who are prepared to peddle a more superficially attractive ideology.
Whether Nick Griffin and his pals SHOULD be allowed to have their say is another matter which I touched on briefly above. I would argue that they indeed should - if only because by exposing their ideology to the light of open examination will it be shown up to be the nonsense it is. Make something secret, illicit or 'underground' and it initially becomes more attractive; that's human nature, unfortunately. Also, I'd like to believe we should be more inclined to free speech than we are; to again refer to The American President, the character Michael Douglas plays makes the point that we cannot just point to the flag, celebrate it, and say we are 'free' - we have to realise that real freedom is allowing people to revile and burn that flag if they so wish. Even if this means having to listen to views we find offensive or bigoted: such ideologies aren't going to just disappear if we merely deny people the right to voice them.
Unfortunately I don't have a suggestion as regards what we can DO about all this; again as in many of my rants, I would suggest the underlying problem is down to the lack of an enlightened, but realistic, educational philosophy in the UK. Solve that one, and we just might find a few other things are a lot easier to handle... in the meantime politicians in the mainstream parties need to get out on the streets in the BNP stronghold areas and confront the myths they are peddling; engage in open and honest debate. Not with more politically-correct, media-massaged information but with a bit of bald truth, however uncomfortable that might be. Alas, in the current climate I think the pigs are cleared and ready for take off on that one...
Peace, perfect peace
Aha playmates... it's late at night and I'm sitting here having a quick blog and swift glass of red before I slither off to bed. For once, words are failing me as I attempt to sum up what the past few days of solitude and total lack of responsibility have meant to me... suffice it to say I am now beginning to realise just how much I needed to Get Away from Chateau Angevin And Get Some Perspective. Which is a bit of a shame as I've only got two whole days left of this before I have to go back and face the grisly reality of what the collective Trolls have done to my kitchen between them. I have a lurking suspicion that it Ain't Gonna Be Pretty; but then, given my current feelings of indolence-induced love and bonhomie I could be doing them an injustice and be surprised. Only time will tell on that one...
Still, I'm intending to make the most of what time I have left... so far I've done pretty much precisely what I've wanted, which in this instance has meant read crappy chick-lit novels, watch crappy chick-flik movies and quilt - not crappily. Oh and stuff nice morsels of nibbly food and some bottles of vino I lifted from Troll's stash down my grateful neck. For those who aren't familiar with the back story on this little excursion, my quilter friend Jo had the good sense to marry a farmer and then persuade the dear man to convert one building into a quilt shop and some other buildings into self-catering holiday cottages; I am therefore staying in one of the latter and have been busily sniffing around the goodies in the former. On my own, without any pressures to Do Things For The Family and with boundless time to indulge in any craziness which takes my fancy (including, it has to be said, various forms of Haagen Daas with most meals and at any time of the day or night I chose). Sound good? Well, it's probably better than my poor writing skills can attempt to describe, so I will leave it to the fertile imaginations which I know my various readers possess... And it gets better because Jo has a truly massive tabby tomcat going by the name of Tiger, who has been the only person allowed in to share my solitude (and, admittedly, a tiny bowl of Haagen Daas from time to time for which he seems to have a particular passion). Pictures will follow as soon as I get access to the thingy Troll has which can move pictures from phone to PC.
AND, one of the best things about this whole thing is that I can feel entirely virtuous on two counts:
Firstly - that I cooked enough ready meals before my departure to keep a whole army of Trolls alive for considerably more than a week. I understand, that this, however, has not prevented semi-furtive visits to the curry-house in my absence, but I am Closing My Eyes.
Secondly - that I have made the top of Baby Troll's latest quilt whilst I've been here, which will doubtless cause much excitment on my return. And nagging to get the thing actually quilted and finished, but that's another story. (For those who want to know, it's in the 'Fresh Squeezed' range by Sandy Gervais for Moda - a particularly eye-watering collection of various citrus shades which Baby absolutely adores). Pictures will doubtless follow...
I wonder would they notice if I stowed away here....
Thursday, 15 October 2009
Back in the land of the living...
... just about. Thanks all those who expressed concern about The Bug - I am up and about again now and have been busily engaged in pacifying Troll (now back from the AAMC), ensuring Mini doesn't cause a danger to himself and others, attempting to control the mayhem that is the run up to the choir Christmas events, domestica (unfortunately) and various other tasks too tedious to mention. Oh, and preparing for my week away which is now ONLY TWO DAYS AWAY!!
This, however, hasn't stopped me finding things about which to blog and for today's offering we have two issues. Get the kettle on now, chaps...
Firstly, whilst wandering around Waitrose doing the usual supermarket sweep otherwise known as Getting Enough Food In The House To Feed Various Trolls For More Than Half A Day, I noticed the wording on the butter wrapping (above). Now... call me either daft or ignorant as you will, but I would have thought butter is by definition DAIRY... and therefore the adjectival addition of the word is completely unnecessary? Turning to that beloved organ of online research, Wikipedia, for some reassurance that I am not completely crazy I found the following...
Butter is a dairy product made by churning fresh or fermented cream or milk.
and
A dairy is a facility for the extraction and processing of animal milk—mostly from cows or goats, but also from buffalo, sheep, horses or camels —for human consumption.
Aha... as I thought. I would suggest this is a shameless attempt on the part of Waitrose to conjure up images in the shoppers' subconscious of rolling pastures and plump docile hay-munching cows. Buxom wenches plonking themselves on rustic stools with their buckets to milk the latter. Cool, dim, stone-floored buildings where the said buxom wenches sit churning and patting the butter into shape... etc etc...
GET REAL, WAITROSE.. thanks to the likes of Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall, Jamie Oliver et al, we all KNOW the grisly reality of a modern dairy owes far more to the floodlit industrial unit than the rural past of a Hovis commercial. Have the honesty to be as matter-of-fact and utilitarian as your 'Essential' range would like to make us think it is and bin the soothing adjectives PLEASE. We aren't all as daft as your suit-clad, Ferragamo-tie-wearing marketing muppets would have us believe. And, just for your information, I get Rachel's butter anyway - doing my bit for Wales' ecomony is a lot more important to me than the pennies difference in price between the two products. Oh, and note - Rachel's manages to get by with just the tag 'butter' without any daft adjectival massaging (and menyn as well just in case there was any bi-lingual doubt).
My second topic concerns Bob Marley's Christmas CD. Speaking as a musician, I have to take my hat off to the guy... anybody who can make as much dosh as he can from doing something quite so badly deserves only admiration and praise. I had tears of laughter rolling down my face listening to the clip of him growling out Here Comes Santa Claus - which is more than I suspect I'll be able to say for what is doubtless going to be foisted upon us as the 'real' Christmas offerings from other stars this year. Every penny of the cash rolling in from Bob's latest release is going to charity too... 'Bravo, old boy' is my only further comment.....
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Aaaargh
The last couple of days I have been feeling less than 100%. Today was undoubtedly the worst, and I accepted defeat, got Dave the Slave to do the chickens when he came round, threw some food at Baby Troll and went back to bed for most of the day. Only emerging to put the kettle on for tea at intermittent intervals, change the book of choice, and sling more sustenance Baby's way.
The latter was delighted... for once he was permitted to watch as much TV and play as many PC games as he wished, depredate on his bike (on the strict understanding he stayed in the yard and did NOT go down the drive) and generally slob out without the omnipresent guiding hand of Mummy making sure he did his quota of chores and work. The Kittens and the other cats were also pretty chuffed that they had a nice warm body in the big bed to snuggle up to and a captive hand giving them a stroke from time to time. Troll was patently somewhat relieved that he is still ensconced in the Algerian Autistic Man Camp and therefore was not expected to supervise Mini/be asked to make edible food (unlikely, but in extremis the attempt has to be made)/look after me or otherwise Do Useful Things. The only person suffering, therefore, is ME.
Naturally I am NOT happy. Don't worry, guys, this isn't swine flu - it's just a minor bug - but normal transmission will be suspended until I'm back on my feet again. In the meantime doubtless the world at large will continue to throw events in my path calculated to make my blood boil to blogging temperature so watch this space...
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