200 not out!

According to the blog posting stats this is number 200. Generally a light hearted approach to the observations of my life has been the under lying principle to the blog. Once and a while though reality has broken through and a more sober posting has been the result.

Today is one such posting, due to my own stupidity yesterdays, number 199 could have been my last. Or at least imposed an enforced break.

During the domestic chores I was cleaning out the shower and deciding that it needed a thermo-chemical-nuclear approach I decided to use neat bleach on all the surfaces. Obviously all common sense had been overtaken by commercial sell. Kills 99.9% of germs dead approach I being included in the stats.

I'm sure some of you are now nodding your head with dismay at my stupidity. The historians among you recounting the use of gas in warfare.

Not being a total idiot I had an awareness of the fumes that this could release and the possible effect on my breathing so I had the bathroom door open , extractor fan on and cubicle door also open to allow the fumes to dissipate. Or so I thought.

However this was not enough and with the small amount of water used the fumes became more toxic and in time I could feel the grip it was taking on my throat and chest. By now my coughing had brought n to me as she tried to discover what I had been up to. Of course the fumes gave the story without me saying a word.

The worst had passed by this time and the offending vapours had started to dissipate. I have experienced this before but thought I had put enough precautions in place, to prevent a re-occurrence, silly me!

It did make me think on how horrible an experience this would be if you had been on the front line probably without the knowledge that I had as gas came towards you, unaware and unprepared for its attack.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

—Wilfred Owen, "Dulce Et Decorum Est", 1917

Just smile and nod

This is a shot from the back of the taxi I was in yesterday as I hot footed or taxied it from the breakfast meeting (it was not as glamorous as it sounds), that I was in to the airport.


The picture is not clear because it was a shoogly (very shaky and unstable, this is another example of how Scots is just the most descriptive language in the world) journey. Not due to the state of the road which was very good but the taxi itself. It shook and rattled as we sped along the motorway towards the waiting airplane. I felt like I was in a tumble dryer as the only article of clothing where the owner had not emptied out the pockets of the nuts and bolts before the wash.

Now I have no doubt that it was a roadworthy vehicle I'm sure that I spied the yearly taxi license awarded by the city council, well I think I did! However the driver continually drove with one handed. I am now wondering how he changed gear? One hand on the wheel and the other hand clutching the chamois to continually wipe the condensation from the interior of the front windscreen.

Nowadays it is usual to have the driver - passenger intercom in traditional British black hackney cabs in order for the driver to be protected from unsavoury passengers and to allow the chatter that seems part of so many taxi drivers psyche. However in this carriage there were no such fancy aids to communication.

In this cab our driver who we will call Jimmy kept the connecting window open as he shouted through using the rear view mirror as some reflective audio aid. However at times he did emphasise the odd phrase and word by turning around at times but only when we had stopped at lights or due to slow traffic.

During the journey the conversation with the wind howling through the cab, although there was no window open and let us not forget the rattling, vibrating vehicle. It felt that the only thing missing was a set of wings and propeller.

It was an interesting journey though but to be honest a fair bit of the conversation relied on me reading the facial ticks and queues observed in Jimmy's rear view mirror. My hearing rendered useless for most of the journey. I just responded with a knowing smile and nod.

At the end of the journey our Jimmy displayed an opportunistic business flair offering his number and the promise to be available to pick me up the next time I was visiting his city. Still recovering I smiled and nodded placing his card in my pocket. Fearing that if I opened my mouth to reply the nuts and bolts from the washing machine would actually reveal themselves to be my fillings.

-- Post From My iPhone

Tracks

In the snow it's really easy to pick up trails of woodland creatures.
Here for instance




are a set from yours truly and the wolves. Either that or some weird dog human hybrid gene splitting creation. Have you seen "The Fly"?

It would be good if I had taken other pictures to populate this story. Maybe one of the fox who strolled out from the tree line onto the path. He was so laid back as he broke cover. You could have imagined that he had contributed to Apples profits by dowloading one of the 10 billion tracks from iTunes. All that seemed to be missing were the ear phones and a hood in which to hide from the snow.

I'm not sure who was more surprised we three or him once he clocked that we were there. The dogs decided they wanted to chat with their distant cousin but he melted away back into the cover of the trees.

In their pursuit of the scent any tracks became a soup of disrupted snow and slush. No photo op there then.

The snow kept falling and on we traipsed around one bend and another and as I looked up from the trail. There about 30 metres ahead a roe deer hind sniffing in the brush unaware we were so close. Nothing to fear from us, the dogs even closer than me didn't even realise the animal was there. She only moved off when I let out a gasp of surprise.

I did pick up her tracks but they were pretty poor from a picture point of view, the snow being too deep and slushy.

So a few tracks found but no pictures for the blog however another set of images stored on the hard drive between my ears. Oh and a smiley face.





-- Post From My iPhone

Woosh!

I feel that I am very fortunate having experienced foreign shores with a favourite being Japan. Fascinating place the history, people, architecture, environment I could go on. Oh! and the technology.

I remember fondly the first time a fully functioning new age Japanese toilet appliance was used. I now appreciate with more empathy how it feels for a car to have a full car wash, blow dry and polish. The giggles of glee as I innocently pressed the buttons encoded with Japanese script still resounds in my mind. The indigenous toilet users must have wondered what was going on in the cubicle, but it was funny.

Without going into the detail I was in a cubicle this morning at the airport. The flush here
being one of those on the wall that you wave at when you are done. As I moved to retrieve some paper I realised that this wall flush has had it's sensitivity turned to maximum.

WOOSH!!

Any vestige of sleepiness was quickly vanquished as my exposed nether regions received an unsolicited deluge of six litres of cold water.

Fortunately I saw the funny side and as I sat laughing my jiggling shoulders set off the flush again not once but twice.

Taking the maxim of three strikes and I should be out (of the cubicle) I gingerly prepared to leave not wishing to engage the flush for a fourth time. I was not looking for the wet suit look.

The feeling of rising damp creeping up my right sock (after the snow came the slushy puddles), is not something I want to encourage with a wet pair of trousers dripping down my legs to meet up with their wet sock brother.

It's little things like this that make travel so much fun. Wonder if it happens to George Clooney?


-- Post From My iPhone

Déjà vu

I'm sitting here on the sofa watching the recorded tail end of the movie from last night the one that I fell asleep watching. It's called déjà vu and stars Denzel Washington in some time jumping federal agent love story combo. It's pretty good with Denzel baby putting in a sturdy day at the office.

Now that's not the only déjà vu thing going on at the moment as we have had more of the White snowy weather falling on our heads today. It's not the good powdery stuff that Vancouver would have paid handsomely for during their Olympic shift. It looks pretty but actually a bit slushy underfoot kind of snow.

I've been out with the dogs trudging through it twice today and it was pretty hard going. With no proper snow the wellies just slipped around. What surprises me is that no health and fitness guru has not cottoned onto this as the next fitness thing.

The package as you would view on through the night TV would involve a contraption not unlike a large childs paddling pool. Into this you would empty the magic snow, the ingredient that will work your thighs, glutes and calves as you walk through the slushy snow filled paddling pool, feeling the burn. Or at least the chill blanes?

There would of course be the pre requisite before and after photos. Testimonials professing on how the "Slush system" has transformed their lives. All whilst the main talking head ridiculously bronzed and toned informs the viewers that it's all due to the "Slush system".

She shares a joke with the guinea pigs on how they used to look like snowmen/women and now they are as thin as an icicle ho ho ho! Whilst another drawls on how strange it is that being so cold has made me so hot.

The price of course is always a bargain never to be repeated once in a lifetime offer. Hurry though mr Voice Over man says before the offer melts, oh the laughter!

Pow!

You know when you fall asleep on the sofa you wake up pow! That's me that's now and I'm off to bed

-- Post From My iPhone

The Dogs

Tonight just a short posting and not s you would expect with that title about our two family wolves but a restaurant that the Family Fegrig visited as a retiral celebratory dinner thing.

The restaurant called The Dogs is in Edinburgh. The food is hearty, tasty and very welcome indeed. The five of us had a selection of three courses all well cooked and imaginative in their design. Soups, salads, rissoles being the starters. Fish, chicken pie, veggie wellington and a new slant on risotto for the mains and finally ice cream , possett, trifle and toffee tapioca bringing the food options to a close. Coffee to wash it down with and even with a couple of bottles of wine the final bill was very reasonable and positively "lite" in relation to the hearty portions that had been served earlier in the evening

The competition for table space underlines just how well this establishment is performing and on this cold evening with the end of February in sight the restaurant was full and lively all evening.

We will be back but perhaps I will not be consuming the same amount of the lovely bread I'm just recovering from my carb overload.

Trouble brewing

There is trouble brewing (smirk) is the kitchen at Castle Fegrig!

No, its not that the scullery maid has ran off with the footman, none of that in this co-operative, egalitarian household.

No, its not that the dogs have eaten today's dinner and we are now contemplating a meal of pizza and ice cream......note to self consider feeding dogs dinner, feign surprise, indignation (light on this) and suggest remedy for dinner of pizza and ice cream!

No it's the tea bags!

At our last trip to the general store to pick up the provisions and vittles we could not find the usual tea bags. Instead we were surprised to see that the cheapest free trade tea bags were in fact part of the "finest range". Now I must add that it is not that we use tea bags that are just the sweepings from the tasting room floor but these present bags are different.

A tea bag is a tea bag surely you say. Perhaps in design they are but the leaves in this box are different because they produce a stronger brew. Excellent you say strong fortifying tea just as the Empire dictated all those years ago as they merrily dispersed the tea bush throughout the British Empire to preserve and spread the production of their favourite brew.

Yes I'm sure that it would be excellent if you were an aficionado of strong tea, the sort that needs no foundation when holding the stirring spoon in an upright position so strong it is. Builders tea is another common term for this type of infusion in these parts. The very thought is making my mouth water not in a good opal fruit advert type of way but the I want to spit way.

You see here we like weak, milky tea. Not with full fat creamy milk, that's a bit fatty to drink now after years of semi-skimmed milk, something light and refreshing. Perhaps this is why we are fond of Japanese teas as they are light and refreshing anyway. We are very inexpensive guests for afternoon tea as one tea bag will furnish two mugs of tea but I might counterbalance that out as I do like cake.

It does cause difficulties when out and about. How does one explain the weak and milky tea? Your weak and milky may be different from my weak and milky production of a cup of Rosy Lee. How long do you let the teabag sit? It's seldom loose tea nowadays, just as well that's a whole new scenario. How much milk is milky enough? The possible disruption to world order is incalculable, the only thing that prevents societal beak down is the British reserve of just putting up with the tea offered. If we were more Mediterranean in emotional outpouring and expression god only knows what would become of British society.

So important sociological factors at play here.

So what to do? I have seen a mass produced mug that has a colour chart of tea strength/milkiness on the side. However this may be practical if one is in an office and your colleagues know you take your tea number 4 for instance. When one travels around and is offered tea I feel it would be rather peculiar to the bring out the mug and say number 4 for me please!

What else could be done need we look at education? Tea making classes following a national curriculum?
In these lessons the student would learn
How milk (skimmed, semi, full, goat, walrus etc) impacts on the final result.
The relative strength of tea once it is infusing.
The chemistry of tea.
The history of tea use.
Origin of tea and it's impact on final strength.
The amount that has to be studied is whizzing around in my head and what started as a non vocational timetable filler has now gone through to a higher qualification!

Perhaps I am just running away from myself and perhaps their should just be a national awareness campaign with little cards detailing colour of the tea in a cup being issued to all and sundry. I could see the national beverage chains having an essential public health role here. Starbucks, Costa and Cafe Nero could give a card out with each tea served?

Perhaps we should all learn our pantone charts in a similar way to multiplication tables? Of course this could be part of the tea modular approach as above or perhaps part of everybodys primary education. Not all colour charts would have to be learnt, the non obvious tea colours could be forgotten about. With this knowledge in built to everyone and springing to mind as quickly as 3 x 5 does at present in no time at all the problem would be rectified and societal collapse averted.

So there you go, problem solved.

In case you're asking I'm a 726/727 C kind of tea guy. What's yours?



-- Post From My iPhone

Hokum?

Is there a C an S or an I in Hokum?

I'm sitting here watching the second part of the CSI trilogy, this being trailed as the "television event of the year". If this is the case I'm putting the TV on eBay. In the trilogy the new main character, Dr Ray (played by Laurence Fishburne) in the CSI Vegas variant trails a case to Miami and solves crimes with his CSI siblings there. Namely of course the main man in the shape of David Caruso he of permanently disjointed cervical vertebrae. Why else would he hold his head at that strange angle when he speaks. Lets not even talk about the sun glasses that only seem to be there to hide his eyes as they roll in his head once he has delivered his one liners. I'm sure the Miami series is very good but I've never had the time to watch it.



In part two Dr Ray follows the trail to another time slot by popping up in CSI New York this time. Here he teams up with the main man Lt. "Mac". The dialogue continues to be the thing that suffered when the production budget was stretched to accommodate so many location shots. I'm not sure if it is a thing in the CSI New York series but there seems to be more than the the odd " slow mo' " moment. Either that or they are playing on the Matrix history of Mr Fishburne, maybe?



So the trail for part III has just ran and they are back in Vegas the original CSI the only one that I have stuck with over the years. Hopefully this old standard will be up to scratch rescuing the "special event" and will be better than the first two parts that has been more holey than a string vest. So disappointing, the special would not stand scrutiny in the famed forensic examinations that are such a bulwark of the show a shame really.

Heatwave

It's been snowing here again, temperature dropping to a minus figure, family agree on the plan to get the stove on, something that has not happened for a few days the house being warm enough without it on.

Its lovely to watch the flames, warming you psychologically the wood burning slowly with their orange glow.

The dogs as if drugged with some sedative dropped in their supper are snoring, roasting themselves within combustable range of the stove.

Now this is all very well but its one of those situations were the dogs and I are pretty much of the same outlook as this stove thing is also making me sleepy and dopey. Fortunately unlike the heatwave that you might experience on holiday I'll not wake up like a bbq lobster all pink and crispy as I am just heading off to bed.

Is anybody sitting there?

So there I was heading out after a busy day at the ranch for a bite to eat to fuel me up for the commute home. Side stepping the tourists and the heavy downpour bouncing from the shop canopies and off the pavement courtesy of the cloud laden London sky.

I get to my destination a wee weirdy beardy vegan cafe in Soho. Even though I've been a few times I still don't know it's name but the food is tasty and cheap to boot, a combination that adds to the popularity.

In I step looking around for a seat, this is not a hard task, one sweep of your eyes can take in the available space. Compact and bijou as they say supposedly in estate agent speak.

In front of me as I drip are two women who have decided to take possesion of five seats! Are these seats taken? The response received being the kind you get when you ask your goldfish to recite Burns poetry.

Is anyone sitting there? Not my first choice and that's why it was asked second as the obvious answer back as the person looks at the space is no! Looking at you with an expression of smart arse and smirking fulfillment having practiced this particular dining Q&A for most if their life in the hope that one day they would be asked the question. From our guppy related diners a response! I suppose I should be grateful for not receiving the "I'm so smart and funny" response. A murmur about something but don't know what.

So success as I disrobe my wet coat I see that they are shuffling about like a couple of hens who have been disrupted mid egg laying. The temerity of the bloke, the look says the egg is almost out!

Third time lucky then can I sit down? Not of course that I'm asking their permission more that I am asserting that I am actually about to sit on their coat, bag or eggs?

This has the desired effect they collect their belongings and down size to three seats. I was accompanied by a colleague from work, just in case you thought I was developing some restaurant seat real estate. This all took far longer than it should have and in the wait we took turns to buy our food.

The choice is quite simple either the buffet plate for £5.80 full of surprise and hidden veggieness as nothing is labelled. Or the £2 per scoop from the counter. A varied and filling selection of four scoops chick pea curry, aubergine lasagna, sweet potato "sheperds pie" and vegetable stroganoff being my dinner tonight.

On returning to my seat at the bench table the two guppy hens have returned to nurse their empty space. One had tried the soup ( spicy - spoiler alert -pumpkin) and had tried a bit, bought a bowl before returning it after a second spoonful because it was too spicy!.

She then as an alternative asked if they do tea? Now this place has as many varieties of weirdy beardy teas as I had lentils in my sheperds pie (no mince just lentils, topped by the sweet potato). Nettle, fruits, herbs, weeds, if it grows it's a tea. All without milk of course - vegan. So English breakfast is out unless you have the tea - au naturale.

It is Soho after all.



-- Post From My iPhone

Troc, clutter, fire risk?

We all have the ability to be squirrels hoarding things away for a rainy day, freak winter, for when you need to have a fire made of paper?

I have been reducing, recycling and chucking out various bits of paper that has been accumulated through work and the administration of one life and its paraphernalia.

Its taken up most of my evening and there will be more hours employed but we are getting there and although it's not very interesting to read I wanted to put something on the page to say I was still alive although almost buried in the paper mountain being prepared for the recycler.

Must go dogs still need a walk they are only amused for so long with hunt the imaginary thing in the paper or with making origami cats and I need to get to bed as I'm flying to London first thing.

Night, night.

Num nums

Midnight feasts come in all shapes and sizes and unless you are careful too many feasts can turn you into all shapes and sizes. For me tonight it was breakfast cereal and rather boringly I now need to go to my bed. The soporific effect of Oatabix perhaps?

Chocolat est bon!

So here we are in Castle Fegrig and on comes a cooking programme from BBC2. The programme is sharing the cooking magic and secrets of Raymond Blanc, the chef bloke most known in recent times for his "Restaurant" programme. This was the programme were a group of numpties and folk who actually can cook vie for the opportunity to open a business with Raymond.

As Valentines Day was yesterday he played on the chocolate = romance theme and made three choccy things. A tart, mousse and a chocolate cup. This was watched avidly by no2 son. He was all earnest attention, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the culinary machinations and was that perhaps a slight dribble from the side of his mouth?

Chocolate is a big love perhaps in times past too big! All looked lovely and inviting I wonder what he will come up with next week?

Up in the sky

At the weekend n and I went to see the latest Clooney flick "Up in the Air". If you have not seen it and are looking for an enjoyable movie to lose yourself in for a couple of hours I would recommend this to you.

It's difficult to file in any particular genre as it part comedy, part romance and part, sad. As an aside I thought he - George, was looking a bit tired and worn with creases in all the places that normal as opposed to worshipped males have creases in. Still a handsome bloke though and glad to see that he is getting better at the smiling thing. In ER I always thought he was just a mouth smiler, never seemed to be genuine as it did not include his eyes. That's acting I suppose? Anyway!

One of the themes of the movie is that as a result of his job our George travels here, there and everywheresville USA and as a result clocks up a huge frequent flyer balance. It doesn't stop there as the accessories of his business travel being a bed for the night and the car hire also have their frequent customer points programmes. George collects them all like some bipedal squirrel collecting nuts for his winter larder.

I laughed as he effortlessly packed his wheeled carry on case, his brow as dry as when he started. Never works for me blood, sweat and tears of frustration as I try to pack for my trips needs. I am getting better though, it's only taken about 4 years!

I had a smirk of knowing when he described what security line to stand on order to whizz through these formalities before sitting in the frequent flyer lounge. Leaving behind those grappling with the requirement of what is a security risk and not. What is the difficulty in working out that small liquids only into a small plastic bag? That belts, jingly jangly jewelery and boots with metal heels/eyelets all set of the metal detector?

Those of you who pop by regularly will know that I use more than my allocation of carbon as I occasionally zoom over the British Isles. Unlike George I do not relish the experience, however like my fellow greybeard I collect the miles and points that businesses wish to throw my way.

Myself and my colleague Mr Munday share the same philosophy regarding these schemes better in our pocket than theirs. At times the detail of programmes involved and the collection of the points therein as you would expect becomes the subject of our conversation. I've never felt that is an all consuming subject that dominates everything just a couple of friends discussing a shared interest.

We definately never reach the heights that George attains especially when comparing frequent traveller programme cards with a colleague as he does in the movie.

However perhaps my appraisal of this has to be evaluated with my thinking on it in the clouds or up in the sky? Due to a recent conversation with a member of the office team that Dave and I are in. She had seen the same film but was having trouble remembering the title.

"it's the film that reminds me of you, Dave and your flying points"



-- Post From My iPhone

Tomorrow is now today, elementary my dear reader

So last night me and Al the world of Fegrigs very own Waldorf and Statler made one of our regular trips to the movies.



It seemed that lot's of people had the same idea young, old, thin and not so. A group not mentioned there was the young, thin but have the potential to be bigger especially if they continue to raid the pick n mix selection with the same gusto. I was standing trying hard to prevent my Ben n Jerrys ice cream selection from melting - caramel chew chew and vanilla toffee crunch if your interested. The best way to prevent the melting is of course to eat it, so not one to neglect my societal responsibilities I duly complied. It took longer for Al to return from his snack purchasing expedition due to the queues but the ice cream kept me company as I waited and watched.

Watched the locust like actions of the pick n mix posse. I held myself back when the children ignored the use of the scoop and shoveled in with their paws, safe in the knowledge that I would not suffer any bogies or other bacterial contamination from these pick n mix monsters. Pick n mix is not my thing. The sweets seem all false and rubbery with jelly that and jelly this predominating. I was amused that every little bin had a sign stuck on it saying no artificial colours or preservatives.
So all natural then?

They then trooped up to the scales and pay point and learnt that valuable economic lesson that greed costs
big bag of selections = big drain on the purse.

So my own Dr Watson returned weighed down by his nachos and chilli selection and in we trooped to take our seats to see "Sherlock Holmes" with Robert Downey jnr and Jude Law.

A very different beast this is from the Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce movie incarnations from the 1930-1940's that added the 3D perspective to my early teens book reading of Conan Doyles literary creation.

Back to the movie, a great time was had by all and it really hit the movie going sweet spot as far as we were concerned. Humour, action, a reasonable story
4 out of 5.
With the promise of a sequel in the offing perfect movie going fodder for us.

Afterwards as we digested our dinner and the movie our minds drifted to the beginnings of our friendship all these years ago when we started on our nursing careers, the conversation then turned to a possible 25 year reunion. Numerous possibilities for blog postings there I think.

Tomorrow

Tonight it was my intention to write about my evening extolling such things as pick n mix (okay maybe not), Ben n Jerrys, Sherlock Holmes and such.
But it's getting late and an old duffer like me is tucked up in bed with my coco and biscuit and I need to sleep.

Originally I was just going to write see you tomorrow but that's a bit of a cheat and then the old Communards track "Tomorrow" came to mind. I found it in You Tube and stuck it in here. The song has got nothing to do with any of the above dealing as it does with the sobering subject of domestic abuse.

The Communards and indeed Jimmy Sommerville may not be every one's cup of tea but in the early 1980's they were mine. It was said that our Jim and I have a similar dancing style but as I am about 40 kg heavier and 20cm taller the similarities end quite abruptly after that.I'm not sure if that's good or bad but we both seem happy.

One of my few 2 seconds brush with stardom happened about two years ago when walking up Chapel Market in London who should ride his bicycle across my path but Mr Sommerville and before I could say don't leave me this way he was off into the darkness.

So as a wee blast from the past and almost 30 years ago!!!! Here are the Communards and I will see you tomorrow.

Less IS More

Have you found in your daily adventures that you are experiencing less of something when once you experienced more?

The most obvious one relates to food especially chocolate bars. They were bigger back before they were renamed, relaunched or even re evaluated after the producer "merged".

The team at work once more but now decidedly less but it seems still trying to do more. This however does not reduce the lenghth of meeting less time spent here would mean more time to do the action.


Bags of crisps also seemed to contain more but at least here the main snack size may have reduced but this has been hidden in the growth of the bigger bag. Made for sharing no doubt unless you are a porker.

I'm sitting on the plane home listening to the cabin crew supervisor wax on about how those at the front get a complimentary drink and sandwich. While those of us in the cheap seats can buy our beveridge of choice to wash down the malted hand baked ploughman with relish and green leaves in other words a cheese peece. This message is given over in a cheery aren't you lucky style a classic case of less than you used to get.

It wasn't that long ago that those at the back got a drink and sandwich whilst those at the front had a wee aluminium tray filled with a hot meat and veg dinner, a glass as opposed to plastic glass and a wee bottle if wine.

I'm fairly sanguine about this but one thing where I would like the trend reversed would be sleep. After three nights away from my own bed less time away would mean more sleep. I have difficulty getting a good night sleep most of the time when work takes me away. Either that or the body coping with less sleep but still having more energy.


-- Post From My iPhone

Environment pah!

Why do hotels state their green credentials and as part of this ask you to use the towels for more than one day. No problem happy to do that and put the sign on the door informing them not to bother coming into the room and then you come back to the room after work


and they've changed the towels, made the bed etc etc green pah!


-- Post From My iPhone

What I've learned today

I'm sitting here just finishing the reading of yesterdays papers, the Guardian in particular. As I wade through the gloominess of it's contents, there is not much to chuckle about in it. I came across this comment piece.



In the piece a Mr Brown shares some of his vision for the future of the UK. Now I'm not here to defend or attack the piece but what I found amusing was at the end of the article.



We are informed that Gordon Brown is the - shock-Prime Minister!

I thought the readership of the Guardian would have known this, but hey you can't be right all of the time.

-- Post From My iPhone

The Road

I'm sitting here on my seat, a strange seat it is too. Its either broken or it has aspirations to be in one of those late night infomercials detailing the latest piece of exercise equipment. If you have ever been awake or are indeed an insomniac you'll know what I'm talking about.

On the promo comes with some piece of equipment promising to sculpt, shape or blast whatever part of the body is targetted. This piece of equipment I'm on is for the abs, thighs and glutes I've decided.

So why am I sitting here? In case you think I'm in the gym I'm not I'm in Belfast waiting for the next showing of "The Road". The movie is helping my mind to tick over rather than sitting vegging in my hotel room.

I listened to the Cormac McCarthy audiobook of "The Road" a couple of years ago and it was no glee filled, mirth bursting experience. It's a bleak narrative of a post apocalyptic world. Man made or natural we never know.

The films not bad but as always the book is better with it's greater detail and tension. Viggo Mortensen is not bad as is the boy who plays his son. Everyone else us just a bit player.

So that's the road not bad filled a few hours, oh and helped my abs, thighs and glutes get on the road to sculpted buffness.

-- Post From My iPhone

7th Day

Readers I'm having a rest, see you tomorrow.
Night , night.

Nurse Fegrig

Yes I really am I'm a nurse with various qualifications in order that I can do nursey things.

Usually my profession is depicted poorly on the telly as either brainless numptys there to be pretty and wallpaper to some hunky doctor types all laundered scrubs and gleaming teeth. Or as scheming bitches who gossip and do little nursing, they just swan around with gleaming teeth and less laundered scrubs.

So it's doctors who get all the glamour and the kudos -George Clooney, Richard Chamberlain and Matt LeBlanc (Joey in Friends played a Doctor in his soap opera gig).Pah!

However now after a sequence of stereotypes - step forward Nerys Hughes, The Holby crowd and numerous other British TV attempts there is a new saviour of the professions representation on the box.

Okay it's not British but it is recognisably nursey enough. The programme is Nurse Jackie a wee 30 minute show presently shown on BBC2. I think it's a gem.

Okay I know I raised the stereotype flag up the pole a few paragraphs back but the characters in this show will strike a chord with any nurse who has worked in a hospital setting.

Jackie is a charge nurse on an A&E unit in a New York hospital. She has her problems - light drug habit, a less than simple family life, an affair with a man who's not her husband and the daily adventures that working folk trudge through.

Supporting her at work we have the bouncey, enthusiastic student nurse (weve all worked with one of them), a male nurse who is gay (stereotypes!) and the very close to the truth junior doctor who is all smoke and mirrors and useless to boot and finally the nurse manager who is closer to Silmarillion than Florence Nightingale.

It's funny a bit sad but pretty real, tackling issues that nurses face. Look at your tv guide and give it a try I'm sure you will enjoy. Oh and you can have a wee dance to the theme tune as a warm up.



-- Post From My iPhone

The Godfather

I was wondering what to write about tonight and actually I'm not going to write too much The reason being what is on the TV. The Godfather is on.

Maybe it's a male thing but it's just one of those movies that appears on most mens best movie lists.
The esteem that this movie is held in has been written about, made fun of and I'm sure there has been a managment book based on it.

I've seen it heaps of times in various edits. The original , the directors cut , the chronological cut (when they cut 1 & 2 together to closely follow the book). I'm too young to have seen it when it was first released but I've made up for that in the years in between then and now.

I've been hooked since reading the book when I probably should have studying for my "O grades". My only defence bring that I read it very quickly and I needed a break from all that studying.

So it's on and second son hasn't seen it so we'll do the bonding thing as I guide him towards the Godfather - a right of passage

An offer he can't refuse perhaps?

-- Post From My iPhone

Business travel

I like my job it gives me a great deal of freedom and flexibility the down side is I have to spend nights away from home.

A regular trip involves me flying across to Northern Ireland. The service is not the most regular timetable in the sky with generally three flights there and three back. There are days though when this is a two in and two out service. Yesterday was one of the two days. For me it involves a much earlier rise than usual and involves me arriving in Belfast in time for breakfast just in time to join the Belfast throngs as they move into work.

I don't know about you but if I have an early start, meeting, appointment or other commitment I never sleep soundly. The fear of sleeping through any alarm and fouling up the plan for the first part of the day sits in my mind and like some far off dripping tap persists in keeping me this side of a good deep sleep. The night before last was such a night.

Yesterday was a long day tapped of with an evening meeting sandwiched between a long drive there and back.
By the time I got back to the hotel it was after ten and most of what Belfast has to offer on a Wednesday night does not involve food especially not of a meat free variety. I trooped off and soon found a take away that proudly proclaims itself "the best pizza in Belfast". Well let's just say that if it was based on votes I would be calling for a recount, it was not bad just not very inspiring and certainly a far cry from what I regard as an excellent pizza take away and one I sometimes visit the Basilico in Islington. It was fuel plain and simple.

After eating the early start wanted pay back and although not falling asleep with my face in the pizza box it was a close call. My sleepy state was enhanced by the hot air blowing out of the vent a move that I had engineered to be only short term to heat up the cold room but an hour later I felt that I was the pizza in the oven the room was hot.

I was now in the
"light sleep cannot sleep properly because you have things to do but I don't want to do anything but sleep but you have to or you might sleep in..."
debate raging back and forth in my brain.

Bad Feng Shui abounded I'm sure and if you are of a sensitive Feng Shui nature look away now as the following may disturb you.

I eventually roused myself hung up the coat, moved the bag and shoes from their initial resting place, put the pizza box in the bin, turned off the TV and the lights, brushed my teeth, set the alarm and slipped under the covers. All too quickly the time passed and I was awake again for another early start in order that I could catch the flight home.

Now though as I sit semi-recumbent in the departure lounge at the Belfast City Airport waiting for the thick fog to clear my will to stay awake is failing. I am egged awake by the thought of why is the section of the departure lounge so free of people. Looking around I see numerous seats occupied with many travelers having their personal space compromised as someone sits beside them. Space is at a premium as the airport is having a "refurb".




I do wonder though as I sit here why no one seems to want to compromise my personal space. Have I fallen asleep without me being aware and the classic combination of droll and snoring has acted as a repellent with people willing to stand rather than sit near me. Or is it that this is the smelly corner? I will never know as the fog has lifted, the call made and I'm leaving on a jet plane.






-- Post From My iPhone

Zzzzzz

I'm sleeping tonight


-- Post From My iPhone

That feeling

You know that feeling?

The one that you get when you get the knitting needle (that allows you to extend your reach to that of a gibbon) to reach the itchy spot.

The one that gives you an extra couple of centimetres of lift as a result of that burden you have been carrying for too long now discarded.

The feeling that allows you to breath deeply feeling as if an extra log has gone on to fire warming your cold toes after a walk in the snow - yeah that's back to.

The feeling of having an empty tum now filled with something yummy and filling - ice cream perhaps, always a favourite of mine.

Okay we'll stop with the sharing of feelings stuff it's turning into a 40 something TV movie, the kind they show in the afternoon. One where all the male characters each with a different crisis to face, it may be relationships, work, health come through it by sharing their feelings with their buds. Group hug?

All I'm talking about is a long shift at the office resulting in the completion of a piece of work that should have been dealt with a while ago.

Some research, some additional reading and a couple of thousand words and bang that's it done. Such a pity that it's getting late and the other plans I had for the evening kinda got side tracked like the woman who was destroying the 40+ guys emotional well being in that afternoon TV movie.

They also got dumped.

A contented sigh

Little n is home.

My butternut squash soup creation was edible and went down not too badly.

Work went well.

The metaphorical eggs have hatched.

The second attempt to make the bread to go with the soup is almost ready,
(let's forget the first try).

The house is warm thanks to the wood burning stove gobbling up the waste wood.

The man on the telly said "the clarty howf" Scots is such a descriptive tongue.