Competitive recycling

Hey, loser! Are you too stupid to recycle? Which part of recycle don’t you understand? You’ve got 6 black sacks full of rubbish and only 2 bags for recycling; we’ve got a paper pile, a cardboard pile, a bag of plastics and only 1 sack of rubbish. To make matters worse, your recycling is 100% beer cans. Are you too smashed to save the planet?
OK, I admit it, I’m a competitive recycler, but a man has to have a competitive hobby and I’m not terribly good at football.
Do you derive a perverse sense of superiority when you walk out into the street on recycling day to see that you are the most eco-aware family in your area? I know I do, it is the only positive aspect of having two compost heaps for all green waste, separate trips to the tip 8 miles away for batteries, metal, fabrics and large items and regular car rides to the bottle bank, not to mention trips out to the large recycling depot for all the paper and cardboard from work because the local authority don’t recycle trade waste.
I do wish that everybody would make an effort to break down their waste into all the reusable elements and that our local authority would actually recycle it rather than taking all the separate piles of waste and throwing it in the same landfill.
Call me a hippie dreamer, but it would be good wouldn’t it?

What kind of uncle are you?

The phone rings and in the absence of caller ID, it has to be answered. “Hi uncle, can you help me?” says a familiar voice. What does the young lad want, I wonder? Does he need some help rebuilding a mountain bike? Does he want to come snowboarding in Zermatt? Does he want to join me marlin fishing in Mauritius? Perhaps he wants to talk over some teenage guy issues? Does he need help stripping down a motorbike engine? It is great being an uncle, especially to such fine young men. The eldest is intelligent, but isn’t that bothered by school things, he’s a lightning fast sprinter, he’s good looking and loves being outdoors. His younger brother is full of energy and life, loves doing stunts on his bike and getting dirty. He’s also got a cheeky smile and is great with people.
What does he want? “I’ve got some really boring homework and need to know what DNA stands for.” So there you have it. I’m the uncle they ring for really dull homework answers. I’m not “adventure uncle” – the extreme sportsman - they’ve got one of those. I’m not the rugged outdoors uncle; they’ve got one of those too. I’m the one they call when something obscure and not even remotely exciting comes up in homework. I’m “lo-tech Google man” for boys without internet access.
The only consolation is that they called me and that I knew the answer. I’d rather be out on a boat on the open ocean with them, but I suppose I’ll settle for being useful, I know my limits.

Customer Service

I've just done one of the receptionist's post-induction training quizzes at work. I scored appallingly, but there again, I haven't been trained as a receptionist. I got most of the answers wrong. The only one I got right was: "A customer comes in and is loud and abusive to you. How do you deal with the situation?" My answer was "Be aggressive and insulting in return, preferably calling their sexuality and parent's marital status into question as well. When questioned later by your manager, deny everything". This appears to be our official customer complaint policy.

New books in an old series

No 50 - Car crash survival techniques for Dummies

New books in an old series

No 49 - Avoiding germs in babies’ mouths for Dummies
(Not for sale in the USA)

New books in an old series

No 48 – Modelling in shop windows for Dummies

New books in an old series

No 47 – Low Self-Esteem for Dummies

Treacle McBeagle

Is time running out for the much-loved fictional dog, Treacle McBeagle? After being revived in 1998, the publishers of her new books are about to hang up her lead for the last time. “Despite our best efforts to modernise the stories, sales have been disappointing and it isn’t financially viable to continue” they announced today.
Created in the 1950’s, author Clemency Pedant wrote the stories to amuse the children at the Sunday School run by her and her preacher husband, Rev Brimstone Pedant. They tell of a talking beagle called Treacle McBeagle and her owner, a shy schoolgirl called Morag McNicnac. After being picked up by publishers DC Thomson, Treacle McBeagle quickly became the best –selling children’s book character in Britain. A generation of children lapped up books like “Treacle McBeagle and the naughty cat” in which Treacle rescues a ball of wool from a mischievous feline, allowing grandma to finish repairing Dad’s slippers, “Treacle McBeagle and the missing apples” in which Treacle finds the missing apples and saves owner Morag from being slippered by her father, “Treacle McBeagle tells the truth” in which Treacle tells the village Bobby what really happened to his bike and saves Morag from being slippered by her father and the classic “Treacle McBeagle and the stolen slippers” in which Treacle steals Dad’s slippers to prevent Morag being slippered for something she actually did do wrong. After Clemency’s death in 1958, her husband wrote one book, “Treacle McBeagle and the evils of drink” in which Treacle drags an inebriated tramp into the church where he hears a sermon from a charismatic and debonair preacher called Fiery Pendant which converts him to a life of sobriety. It failed to sell as parents deemed it unsuitable for young readers and as a result no further books were published.
Publishers Doomsbury bought the rights in 1998 and resurrected the series with a modern twist. The authors were given the brief “to make them relevant and interesting to the young readers of today and capture the zeitgeist of what it is to be aged 6-11 and middle class”. Morag became a feisty outspoken and precocious child and Treacle adopted a more street-wise talking style, dropping her trademark Scottish colloquialisms, in favour of gangsta rap slang. A talking dog that says “crivvens!” when startled was not deemed sufficiently hip for today’s youngsters. However, in modernising the stories they lost much of the charm and innocence of the originals. In “Treacle McBeagle buys to let” Treacle finds a bag of stolen diamonds and uses the reward money to buy a run down house which her and Morag convert into apartments for rent, in “Treacle McBeagle averts a Greek tragedy ” Treacle saves the life of Greek fisherman who rewards every child in Morag’s school with a free lifetime’s supply of Taramasalata and in “Treacle McBeagle travels carbon neutral” Treacle is flown to Bolivia on Virgin Airlines to see Virgin’s tree planting scheme to counter the carbon emissions from their flights.
The last two books, “Treacle McBeagle – smacked up bitch” in which Treacle appears on MTV with Snoop Dogg and “Treacle McBeagle goes to the hajj - beagle in a burqa” became the most spectacular publishing failures of recent years.

Animal Based Sayings

I recently received a letter which said: “Dear Sir, we would like to remind you that under ABSO regulations, the phrase ‘as hungry as an ant’ is not an officially sanctioned expression and must not be used again”. It was on letterheaded paper from a body called the Animal Based Sayings Organisation. It would appear that they control all usage of animal related expressions in the world.
I had casually compared my hunger to that of an ant in a passing comment in the kitchen. How they overheard me I will never know, but now that they have slapped an ABSO on me, I will have to compare my hunger to that of a wolf, or else eat something and stop whingeing about it. I could argue that ants can be hungry too, and a modern family taking their dinners through to the living room on trays to eat in front of the TV do have similarities to ants – especially if the “dum, dum, dum, dum, dum” music is playing in the background. I suspect however that arguments could be futile, their letter states that anybody who transgresses a second time will be “hunted down like a wounded fox by a pack of hounds.”
As well as being omnipresent, the ABSO also has a surprisingly long memory. I was also warned not to restore use of the Rodent scale for drinking session measurement. This was something we introduced in our college days to gauge the quantity of alcohol we had or intended to consume. It came from the expression “to get ratted” which only covered one level of debauchery. If you wanted to go out for a swift half then getting “ratted” wasn’t appropriate. Hence we coined the expression “to get field voled”. A leisurely drink would get you “moused” and a major bender would see you “coypu’d”. The bureaucrats at ABSO have decreed that it only “ratted” or “pickled as a newt” is permissible.
It looks like the nanny state gone mad, I thought. Shortly after thinking this, I had a call from ABSO reminding me that, technically, goats were a patriarchal breed and the correct phrase should be “billy state”.
It looks like I may have to change my leopard in mid-stream and let sleeping cats lie if I want to avoid being a dog’s dinner.

Must go, I can hear barking outside.

Slavery

If the current campaign to mark the 200th anniversary of the abolition of slavery with a formal state apology and the payment of compensation to the descendants of slavery succeeds, we may have a case to start a new campaign. If the criteria used in this case are upheld, then surely the descendants of the Anglo- Saxon victims of Viking rape and pillage in the 10th century deserve an apology and a return of Danegeld from the Norwegian and Danish governments.

Those who clamour for an apology for slavery are surely taking a few facts and ignoring a whole host of others in making their case. It cannot be denied that it was cruel of white slave traders to take slaves from Africa to the new world and force them to work on plantations amidst much brutality. However, this does ignore the fact that many slaves were sold into slavery by black slave traders, that living conditions for most people in the UK were truly appalling in the eighteenth century, that most working people had very few freedoms and were treated brutally by the authorities if they stepped out of line. The average life expectancy for poor people in the UK in 1807 was 20. Descendants of former slaves are now free to live in the UK, the 13th wealthiest country in the world, descendants of those not sold into slavery enjoying a much lower standard of living I would venture to suggest. The gruesome instruments of torture and branding used on slaves are very similar to those than can be found in any small town museum throughout the UK. They were used just as mercilessly on supposedly “free” citizens.

If my plan to secure money from the Danish and Norwegian governments fails, compensation could be funded via the UK tax system. Anybody whose surname is “The Unready”, “The Confessor” or “The Great” would be entitled to receive money from taxes levied on anybody whose surname was “Bloodaxe” or “Forkbeard” or “Harefoot”. This I think is a simple, fair and effective solution. I may have been touched by the hand of genius.

Operation Varsity

Veterans relax before a moving ceremony

In a clearing in the woods, we stood in silence, staring at the distant tree line and watched and waited. Despite this vigil, we were all taken by surprise when a lone glider appeared from behind the trees and flew silently overhead. Behind it, four helicopters skimmed the treetops in formation.

Last week saw the 62^rd Anniversary of Operation Varsity, when 440 gliders flew to Hamminkeln to drop 3,380 men and vehicles behind German lines in a bid to capture and hold the town and 3 bridges across the River Issel. Such was the danger of this one-way mission that only 88 gliders remained undamaged and 204 pilots were killed or wounded.

The bravery of the Glider Pilot Regiment can only be marvelled at. To go on such a mission, flying gliders full of men and machinery into a heavily defended area knowing that your chances of survival were slim is very humbling.

The Service of Remembrance last week was a truly moving occasion. It was attended by the band and soldiers of the Army Air Corps, a detachment of Cadets from Colfe’s School, veterans, families of veterans and members of the public.

The quiet dignity of the service, the thoughts of all us towards those who served, the beauty of the setting and awe inspiring grace of the solitary glider caused a few tears to be shed. Standing there shivering in the bitter cold meade me think of the horror of war, the courage of those who fight in wars and the impact this operation had on people’s lives. One of the civilians came forward and laid flowers on the memorial. He comes every year in memory of his father who died in the battle.

Many good people died fighting that day in 1945. They are not forgotten.

A poem about changing priorities

When you use marijuana
you can do what you wanna
you can fly like a haddock
you can swim in the paddock
you can go to Tijuana
you can do what you wanna
marijuana
marijuana

If you think I’m using cocaine
You really must be jokin’ *
It messes with your septum
And facts you can forget ‘em
While you’re bent over the loo
Feeling like poo
cocaine
cocaine

I don’t wanna end up
sniffin’ bags full of glue
Out of economic necessity
‘cos crack is excessively
Far too expensive for me
Just like LSD
Was back in the sixties
When admittedly
I was a school chiddley
And was hugely unaware
Of the big bad world out there
before mohicanned punks
replaced pineapple chunks
as the most fascinating sight
on a Saturday night
Also
I didn’t expect my dealer
To look like Garrison Keillor
I really thought a pusher
Should look a bit more like Usher
Besides
I don’t really need drugs
At this moment in time
What I could really do with
Are laminated floors
Or some interior doors
Or even of course
A share in a racehorse
If you’re supplying
At the price that I’m buying
And the discount is good
For middle-aged men in this hood
If you know what I mean
Who could strike a deal
For what I need to buy
To really get me high
Is nothing more badder
Than a two section loft ladder.

* the second verse relies on the first two line endings rhyming so make sure you pronounce one or both end words accordingly

How rich are they?

I took some days off last week and went visiting gardens in search of visual stimulation, fresh air and a chance to see how spring is shaping up. I ended up at Exbury on the south coast. The gardens belong to Mr and Mrs Edmund de Rothschild, of banking fortune fame.

As it is still early in the year, the rhododendrons and azaleas are not yet at their peak. There are plenty of them, acres and acres of the things, and they will be hugely impressive later on, but for now the camellias are the stars of the show. They have two walks amongst the most wonderful red, pink and white flowering camellias. They are well worth going to see and a return visit or two later in the year would also be worthwhile. The estate is large enough and well-designed enough to have largish areas of interest throughout the years.

One thing that strikes you is the number of plaques beside trees stating that this one was planted by Her Majesty the Queen, this one by Prince Philip, another by Lady Di etc. Not only have all the royal family planted trees but the Queen and her mother must have planted at least 10 each on separate occasions. How rich can the de Rothschild family be if they have the British royal family do their gardening for them? It makes you think….

The Purple Fop

If I was ever to own a bar, I’d like to call it “The Purple Fop”. As is the way these days, it would need a tagline, and I would suggest that you couldn’t do much better than “where regency decadence meets post modern zeitgeist.”

With that name and tagline, the whole concept of the business falls neatly into place. The décor would be mock regency, all chandeliers and pastel striped wallpaper. The clientèle would be well-heeled, pretentious poseurs, professional footballers, metropolitan go-getters, media types and dim-but-wealthy party animals. Drinks would be outrageously priced. They would have names like “The Madness of King George” (a cocktail of 9 parts of absinthe, 1 part vodka – just to dilute it a bit) or “Madame Guillotine” (a cocktail of 1 part absinthe to 9 parts battery acid – for drinkers who might find “The Madness” a little tame). You could stretch to existing cocktails like the Scarlet Pimpernel (made with Pimms) if you really had to, but new versions of old ideas would be the most popular. Your customers wouldn’t really be original thinkers or even remotely creative, so would be happiest adapting the familiar and pretending it is new. The lavatories would be named “Ladies” and “Dandies”. Security would be told to only admit guests if they were flamboyantly dressed. A supply of bonnets, ruffs, lacy cuffs and velour waistcoats would be kept in a “dressing-up cloakroom” just in case a super-rich celebrity showed up dressed unadventurously. They could then be made to wear these clothes, a bit like when you were young and turned up for PE without your kit, only this time it would done with panache, rather than acute embarrassment.
Including the word post-modern and zeitgeist in the tagline would attract all the superficial people in your city at a stroke. The joy of this concept is that anyone who is shallow, rich and basically stupid would be drawn to it like a bear to a honey-smeared salmon. Which gives me an idea for the menu…
Next time you’re in town, call in to The Purple Fop - where regency decadence meets post modern zeitgeist.

Signs of dullness

You know that you are probably quite a dull, sad individual when you are able to answer a question like "I'm ordering some labels today, do you have a favourite type?"with "Oh yes, I prefer the Avery L7161 labels". A "friend of mine" (ahem) did just that today....

New definitions of old words #71

DUMPLING

a very tiny poo

A Roman Slave Did It...

The huge number of people claiming to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's orphan child could be seen as quite heart warming. Here we have a poor little waif orphaned at a tender age. Luckily they shouldn't be parentless for too long as a queue is growing of men claiming to be the father. A cynic might think that the $240mn fortune this child inherits is a motivation, I prefer to think of it as a reaffirmation of the goodness of modern mankind. Could you stand by and let some unfortunate child go through life with no parents? Not even somebody as shallow as Madonna could do this, she even adopted a child BEFORE it was an orphan.
The line of people saying "I'm the father" reminds me of the scene in Spartacus where a whole hillside of slaves defiantly stood up and said "I'm Spartacus". The only difference being that their reward was substantially less than $240mn.
I urge you all to say "I'm the father".

Is Rachael Ray taking over the world?

When it comes to creative variations on Pizza, you can’t beat the Americans. I really thought that they’d hit the depths with Rachael Ray’s “Pizzagna” creation. This was the dish that, as she kept explaining to her presumably stupid audience, was a cross between Pizza and Lasagne. Really? We’d never have guessed.
The “30-Minute Meal” show was hugely entertaining, not from a food-lovers perspective, but more from an “oh my god, the Americans really are stupid people with a rotten diet” angle. I’m simply not used to seeing cookery programmes that say; “to make a béchamel sauce, simply open a jar of béchamel sauce and pour it in the pot”. It’s not exactly challenging is it, Rachael?
It appears that the woman is making up her own language now. When I saw EVOO listed as an ingredient in a recipe I had to Google the thing to see what it was. EVOO turns out to be what the rest of the world calls Extra Virgin Olive Oil. People seem to be buying her EVOO as well. I wish I had thought of this. I might try and market APOH – a pinch of herbs. I may need to change its name for the US market and promote it as APOU – a pinch of “urbs” due to American failings in the pronunciation department.
As if all this wasn’t bad enough, the geek in me was searching Google’s website for Firefox add-ons when I find this link: ttp://www.google.com/tools/firefox/index.html.
With this add-on you can add text clippings, images and links to your Google Notebook and share them with friends. The clipping they use to illustrate the point is Kraft Foods.com’s “Pizza on the Grill” recipe! What kind of diet and what kind of friends must you have to want to share this clipping with?
Visit this blog next week for my very own “Pizzaroni Bolognese alla griglia” recipe, made with EVOO, APOU and SOSQUAT (some squashed tomatoes).

Snow Day

One of the joys in life is our local Arboretum. Here is the view today from the Coach House.

Bird Flu

The UK Government are issuing all sorts of advice to inform the public of the risk from Avian Flu. I have read some of it and it appears that the best way avoid catching the disease it to follow this simple advice: "don't handle infected birds." This rule of thumb has served philanderers well down the ages and is still relevant today.