A Michael Caine moment

As a mere Sassenach I’m hardly qualified to draw conclusions but I wonder if Alex the Braveheart realises how much business his Nova Caledonia stands to lose by cutting itself adrift?

The other day a Tory minister let slip that scotch would no longer be promoted by British embassies worldwide. No doubt Irish whiskeys and bourbon would do instead. And an even deeper cut was revealed today: English people consume more haggis than Scots! Which would certainly cease to be the case if Alex prevailed. We’d resort to tripe and onions, Cornish pasties and Eccles cakes.

So be careful, once more, for what you wish for, you apostates.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/foodanddrink/foodanddrinknews/9038376/English-eat-more-haggis-than-Scots.html

Another sonnet for the pomes comp

Its all a load o balderdash! Dyou wish

To keep those pesky commas in mid-air?

How can they influence the price of fish?

If bookshops want to drop them, do I care?

Them Waterstones will still sell books, I smise

Like Boots will do the drugs and Tiffnys jewls?

And Ronald will make burgers, Sainsbrys pies?

Do squiggles in some logos make them fools?

So lets go back to dear old GBS.

He knew a thing or two bout grammar stuff.

Lets rite it ow we say it – dont digress.

Of snobby arty farty crap – enuff!

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

I shall! And sweep that comma clean away!

Two turncoats

For about the last six months or so I’ve been hammering out a decent Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door on my old six-string. By decent I mean if you listen carefully and fade-out the discords, the tune is remotely recognisable. I’ve still a long way to go before I become a busker but it’ll happen eventually. Imagine my surprise and horror when my son came in the other day with an electric guitar that he’d bought. Continue reading “Two turncoats”

Sonnet-Waterstone’s: A rally cry.

Waterstone’s: A rally cry.

In London, Kensington, young Waterstone,
It would appear, sold out to a stranger,
So punctuation is now in danger;
Waterstones, now writ, lowering the tone.

Grammatically unsound you say, but hark!
Printed books or wet garden stones for pools?
Or are apostrophes for older fools,
We ancient pedants who insist and bark?

No, war it is and we are right to fear
The loss of this small mark, by which we own
Still our proud language, although loud we moan.
Standards will not slip despite those who jeer.

Save the apostrophe I hear you cry,
In this small mark all we possess must lie.

Google and you

What do you think that these guys know about you?

While reading about their new privacy policy I ended up examining what they think my ‘Ads preferences’ are.

They have me down as –

1) Arts & Entertainment – Comics & Animation
2) Beauty & Fitness
3) Finance – Credit & Lending
4) News – Weather
5) World Localities – Africa – Southern Africa – South Africa Continue reading “Google and you”

The rest is easy

Woman wearing pyjamas outdoors

My cherished contemporaries will recall a satirical ‘sixties show called TWTWTW with David Frost, Willie Rushton, Millicent Martin and Roy Kinnear – plus a few other ‘names’ – who came up with the classic one-liner: ‘The rest is easy with Bonsoir pyjamas.’ Very naughty in those innocent days.

Fifty years on, it seems that pyjamas are making an unwelcome appearance outside the confines of the family bedrooms. No, not the garb traditionally worn by middle-eastern folk, but real pyjamas. Understandably perhaps – given the modern malaise of retiring too late and over-sleeeping – which allows little time for washing and dressing in street attire.

But enough is enough for a Dublin welfare office and a Belfast school. Apparently they refuse to accept that their pyjama-ed visitors prefer to conduct their morning business and return to their duvets in short order.

By and large I see their point but it sets a dangerous precedent. Soon they’ll demand that council workers and teachers themselves dress respectably!

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-16740199

 

Nesting?

A scratching behind the television intrigued Pippi Long Stocking who tried to get in to investigate.
I put her in the (f)utility (if a woman’s work is never done, why start?)  while I investigated, by pulling out the TV corner-unit, and taking off the room-side cover of the air-vent installed a few years ago (as a daft requirement of having the walls insulated.)
I fully expected a nest of mice. Inside, to my amazement was a little sharp-beaked bird. Possibly a tree-creeper, but difficult to be sure. All I could see was a silhouette of a flapping small thing. Continue reading “Nesting?”

Before Video Games – Jan CW Entry

Here for the all knowing judges consideration is my humble offering for Januarys CW competition.

While da rool was no less than 1000 words. I noticed there was no upper restriction. Here in the region of 7020 words is my tale of derring do on the theme of Marking Time.

Before Video Games

Jimmy was a good kid, no mathematician or literary giant, he had a flair for just making things work.

With no distractions such as multi channel TV, play stations or PCs, Jimmy did what came naturally to kids his age, he made his own entertainment. On non-school days, weather permitting, he was out of the house early and seldom seen until tea-time. He was always back before Dad got home, otherwise stern words from Mam would follow. They were the rules and life on the whole was fair.

So it was one sunny Saturday in May 1978. Up with the birds, Jimmy had a bowl of cornflakes with Dad. “Where you off to today then son?”

“Dunno Dad, we might go up to the hills and make some gliders or there’s the beach. I’ll see if George has thought of anything when I call round his house.” Continue reading “Before Video Games – Jan CW Entry”

Another setback for the Don

Yes, we’re leaving the La Mancha region of the Baltic, having tilted at the monster mills and lost the fight. The local council, this evening, was unimpressed by our action group’s petition from 350 burghers, maintaining that the noise is no worse than the birdsong from the hedgerows and the new generation of turbines, far from being a blot on the landscape, will be a tourist attraction. Who could argue with logic like that? Oh and they’re cheaper to install than mills out to sea. So there. Think green. Yeah, right.

Fortunately we are well on the way to negotiating a not-too-painful departure from here by Easter, before the spreading wheat fields become an industrial zone.