I know you like to catch up now and then with news of the Kuddly Kinnocks, alias the Welsh Cash-Machine; whose favourite daughter-in-law, Gucci Helle has just become the least liked PM Denmark has ever known, with a 17% approval rating after 9 months in the job. Continue reading “Helleva time”
As I might have mentioned before, I am a British Army brat. Born in West Germany, due to my Dad being there at the time occupying. Luckily for me, existence-wise, Mum had been allowed to trail along with him and it all turned out all right. In my opinion.
So, pure Jock but totally British is what I was born and is what I remain. And one of the British Olympians in the first Paralympic games in 1948 was one of Dad’s fellow officers who carried on despite having had various bits blown off him in the service of our country. I will always be proud of the fact that I had the privilege to meet him.
It follows that today was a bit special. I really do care about the fact that the Olympic Games are taking place in my country and Capital this year and I really don’t care if anybody else wants to get torn-faced about that, for any reason whatsoever. Continue reading “Bread and Alleged Circuses”
We’ve just returned home from greeting the Queen as she arrived at Hitchin station for her Diamond Jubilee tour of North Hertfordshire. The royal Bentley was parked outside the station with the chauffeur giving a last-minute polish to the windscreen and there was a collection of ladies wearing hats, including the Mayor of Hitchin (dress a bit crumpled), someone else in a( badly hemmed) powder blue outfit whose hat was just the wrong shade of blue, and worst of all the Lord Lieutenant, the Countess of Verulam, in a coat dress that husband described as something out of a 1940s newsreel. Her hat was lilac and too large for a tall lady and did not match the dress at all. Unfortunately when HM arrived she was wearing a lilac coat and hat. (Off to the tower with the Countess!) The Queen’s lady-in-waiting, wearing a smart navy outfit and hat with red trim, reminded me of Christina Osborne, as in her avatar photo. We thought HM looked a little frail, but she smiled happily at the crowd. She is quite small, the same height as me I believe, and 5ft 3in is a very good height but easily hidden by inconsiderate taller people.
I was reminded of Christina’s comment about the punishing schedule the Queen has had recently and I really would not want to be in her shoes (or beautiful outfits). Anyway I was glad to have seen her – and I hope she felt the same. And, as husband said, I had fun criticising ladies’ outfits.
Cherished colleagues with an aversion seeking to feed their aversion to overpaid sports personalities should read on. Continue reading “Marooned on Sandbanks”
Both the British and Danish gubmints are still getting in a lather about same-sex couples wanting to be ‘married’, often in buildings dedicated to supernatural events.
IMHO the problem arises because Western politicians can’t throw off the mantle of their ancient predecessors for whom entrails (sometimes of animals) had to be read before decisions could be made. In modern parlance the Cabinet has a Holy Insurance Policy issued by the Pascal Wager Company, which invokes forces beyond their understanding whenever a tricky question is posed – like whether a war is just or a marriage allowable. Continue reading “A knotty problem?”
Ode to a Strawberry Roan
A flighty filly, highly strung,
Prone to sudden shies.
The dogs attack, in fun no doubt,
In gleeful barking cries.
The hounds close in, she tossed her mane,
And in a sudden rush,
Her rider landed, winded now,
Into a handy bush
Continue reading “Ode to a Strawberry Roan: Poetry Competition”
After my trip back home last week I wrote to easyJet, complaining that all the cabin announcements were gabbled in Estuary English at high speed and unlikely to be understood by anybody at all, with obvious implications for passenger safety. I received this reply:
“Thank you for contacting us.
I can understand the level of discontent you have experienced onboard. Please accept my sincere apologies for the inconvenience caused.
Please note that each staff at easyJet is provided with special training before we gets into actual operations. I can sense that our endeavours towards training programme does not ended up in your favour. I extend my apologies for the same.
I acknowledge that the announcement were made onboard was badly spoken and did not understand it properly. For this I have noted your comments and assure that corrective actions will taken by our relevant department.
We pride ourselves on delivering the best customer service and would like to prove this to you. I respect your association and assure that you will receive a warm welcome on your future flights. I hope my email some way pacify your thought whilst choosing our services in the future. ”
Smiley thing – or should it be tears?
Not for nothing did Marvel Comics Group immodestly call themselves “the House of Ideas”. They ran a series of stories, over 150 in all, based on the concept of -what if something different happened at certain crucial stages of stories already published. The magazine, although uninspiringly entitled “What If…”, ran for a long time because the scripts were so good. The writers could run riot with the established Marvel universe and kill off major characters as they created alternative realities. They were fictionalising what was already fiction. Brilliant, if you ask me.
Coming back to reality we have all wished we could have made different decisions and turned that unrelenting ticking clock backwards just like we do in autumn time. At the moment it is not possible to revisit pivotal moments in our own little personal history. Maybe as progress progresses, in the future we might be able to go back to the past. Then, no one need suffer from l’esprit d’escalier; we could all be first floor repartee artistes.
On to the bigger picture there are some major what ifs that could have changed the world immeasurably. What if Kipling never wrote if? What if Apollo Creed had finished the bum and went home? What if at the end of Lonely Street there was no Heartbreak Hotel? What if William Webb Ellis could have applied himself and learned to kick a ball?
Boadicea's Chariot 
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