Over on Takimag.com, Tim Worstall has an insight it would do us all good to absorb.
Basically he argues that economists ( step forward your humble servant) start from a premise that their panaceas will be given effect by the politicians. He is referring to perhaps the foremost economist of today, Paul Krugman, who keeps telling the politicians what to do and then being astonished when they screw it up.
Worstall argues that the right way round is to assume that politicians " are indeed lying weasel felchers " and then a whole lot more makes sense and you have to understand "the slime and the mold that ... plans depend upon for implementation. ( Krugman) actually thinks that politicians are trying to do the right thing."
What politicians are trying to do is get re-elected. Between times, they screw things up. If they would only leave us alone....
One of Krugman's insights is that giving a group of people in an area extra money for their work will lead to better employees and better productivity. Giving everyone in the same area more money leads to absolutely nothing. To a certain extent, the minimum wage here in the UK and annual wage increases has led to little or no betterment of the quality of the workforce, nor of any productivity increases over time.
PS. Don't, under any circumstances, look up the meaning of felchers...
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
All that glitters...
A friend is having some treatment which has meant he has had to have some gold inserted into his body.
"There you are sir," said the nurse," That's you worth GBP 1000 more than you were this morning."
As my friend said, it wouldn't be that difficult.
"You know, they call David Beckham Golden Balls. Well, I'm the real thing."
"There you are sir," said the nurse," That's you worth GBP 1000 more than you were this morning."
As my friend said, it wouldn't be that difficult.
"You know, they call David Beckham Golden Balls. Well, I'm the real thing."
Monday, February 22, 2010
When good things remain good..
The weekend was spent down at Colintraive overlooking Kyles of Bute. For once, the weather was immaculate, dazzling blue skies and a light covering of snow to make the whole place magical. The intention had only been to go for Saturday lunch, but we got a call from our friends saying hurry up and get down.
The weather remained fabulous the whole time we were there.
In these remoter parts of Scotland, one does not come across that many young people (in the group of houses were our friends stay, the youngest inhabitant is over 75, with the oldest nearing 99) which means a slower more genteel way of life pertains, with politeness and deference in abundance.
Two little stories from a wedding as reported from dinner on Saturday night.
One of the guests, approaching his 50th. wedding anniversary, says that his father took him aside the night before his wedding.
" What did the one silk stocking say to the other silk stocking?"
" No idea"
" Heavens above." This, apparently, was the extent of his sexual education.
The other was one of the witnesses at the wedding was wearing a pair of trews. As they were about to leave the vestry where the signing and witnessing had taken place, the Bishop who had married the couple, took up his crook, and hooked the betrewed witness's male member. He had forgotten to do up the buttons on his trews and the offending article had popped out.
" I know you intend to use that on the chief bridesmaid later, " he intoned," But I really think you should keep it warm until then..."
There can't be many that have been thus sanctified before use...
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Guide for husbands and lovers..
Secrets & subterfuge always has nice things and I PARTICULARLY LIKE THIS.
As as been said before, "You may say that, but I couldn't possibly comment."
As as been said before, "You may say that, but I couldn't possibly comment."
Now I know we have become insane
Whilst reading a blog today about the atrocious UK Government borrowing figures for January, one of the comments reflected the truth that things are NOT getting better, that the banks are making businesses put money in rather than lending to allow them to trade properly. This wouldn't be so bad if anyone could actually get paid. It seeps into the soul when you spend the whole time chasing people for what in America would be nickels and dimes.
The problem of course is your customers have exactly the same problem. One of my tenants, a very hard-working office cleaner business, would love to take on more work. He's been offered it at rates that are good. But he cannot finance the 6 -8weeks he would be out the money before he gets paid. If he's lucky. So his business is stagnating, and his existing customers stretch their payment another few days, and he needs another £1000 from his bank to pay wages ( for jobs that will bring him £3000). And so the merry-go-round continues, with the velocity of money slowly but surely seizing up.
But a salutary tale.
My local post office, quite a big one, and only a post office with no shop, was sold by the PO about 2 years ago to an Irish property companyYes you read that correctly - insane I know, but hey, this is Brown's Britain. I believe they bought about 50 offices across the country. And here's another one I did earlier...
That was fine, apart from the fact that this property company ( not daft) used the PO cash flow to finance its developments.
Now have a guess. Commercial property has fallen some 35/40% over the last wee while and hey presto! no equity in any of the developer's sites. In fact, negative equity, and negative cash flow.
The banks, not being stupid when screwing the general public, takeover the developments. I can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but once a bank pulls the plug, any money that comes in is used to pay down the debt - though the interest keeps ticking away at the side- and they are allowed to write the entire amount off against their profits, which means ultimately the Poor Bloody Infantry in the shape of the UK taxpayer picks up the tab, in lower earnings and hence lower tax take.
So what happened to my local post office?
Well, there was a bit of a hoo-ha, but the PO took it back ( along with the others) and everyone kept their jobs which was great.
Except they hadn't been paid for November or part of December. And guess what, the liquidators of the Irish property company say it's the PO to pay and the PO says its the liquidators...
But hey,the staff can sue both of them for their wages and get paid.
Yeah, right.
The problem of course is your customers have exactly the same problem. One of my tenants, a very hard-working office cleaner business, would love to take on more work. He's been offered it at rates that are good. But he cannot finance the 6 -8weeks he would be out the money before he gets paid. If he's lucky. So his business is stagnating, and his existing customers stretch their payment another few days, and he needs another £1000 from his bank to pay wages ( for jobs that will bring him £3000). And so the merry-go-round continues, with the velocity of money slowly but surely seizing up.
But a salutary tale.
My local post office, quite a big one, and only a post office with no shop, was sold by the PO about 2 years ago to an Irish property companyYes you read that correctly - insane I know, but hey, this is Brown's Britain. I believe they bought about 50 offices across the country. And here's another one I did earlier...
That was fine, apart from the fact that this property company ( not daft) used the PO cash flow to finance its developments.
Now have a guess. Commercial property has fallen some 35/40% over the last wee while and hey presto! no equity in any of the developer's sites. In fact, negative equity, and negative cash flow.
The banks, not being stupid when screwing the general public, takeover the developments. I can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but once a bank pulls the plug, any money that comes in is used to pay down the debt - though the interest keeps ticking away at the side- and they are allowed to write the entire amount off against their profits, which means ultimately the Poor Bloody Infantry in the shape of the UK taxpayer picks up the tab, in lower earnings and hence lower tax take.
So what happened to my local post office?
Well, there was a bit of a hoo-ha, but the PO took it back ( along with the others) and everyone kept their jobs which was great.
Except they hadn't been paid for November or part of December. And guess what, the liquidators of the Irish property company say it's the PO to pay and the PO says its the liquidators...
But hey,the staff can sue both of them for their wages and get paid.
Yeah, right.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Education, education, education
I've been in and around London for a few days, always an enlightening experience. I think of Eliza Doolittle's Dad, Alf, who, just before signing " Get me to the Church," intoned, " There are drinks and girls all over the town and I have to track them down in just a few more hours". It always seems to me that that is the real business of London. All we ordinary folk bustling about are only there to provide the background.
So here's a tale to gladden your hearts on a Wednesday afternoon.
It seems that an ex-Ambassador ( no names no pack drill) has been having a bit of a hard time recently, but, of course, he continues to have very good connections at all sorts of levels of society. He puts these connections together with other people and takes a small commission for doing so.
A VERY senior executive of a certain American multinational, who had come up the hard way from what I can only describe as the uneducated and backward areas of the States, wanted a particular introduction to a certain group of people, and the ex-Ambassador was just the chap to do it.
A fee was agreed, and it was also agreed that the way to do it was to set up a dinner at an exclusive restaurant, where the group would just happen to be and they would be invited to join the executive and the ex-Ambassador at their table.
All was going absolutely swimmingly. Then one of the ( admittedly educated and worldly wise) group ordered some dish with truffles.
Now in all the best restaurants, a plate of truffles is brought, from which, after smelling and feeling the various fungi ( I shall be shot for referring to them as that), one is chosen for the dish. And a few slivers are grated into it.
Our executive thought he would like the truffle dish too.
The head waiter brought a silver salver with 5 creatures ( let's call them that).
As the executive was the host, the maitre d' took the plate to him first.
The executive promptly ate the one nearest him.
There was an aghast silence.
Then he ate a second one.
Then he cut the third one in half, and ate one half.
With shaking hand, the other truffle orderer picked up a truffle and ate it. Then the second. Finally, glancing about the restaurant ( since everyone there was riveted by the spectacle) he ate the final half.
" Not bad," said the exec. " Not too heavy, and quite tasty."
Naturally, the educated one was performing the equivalent of drinking the water from the finger-bowls, so as not to embarrass his host.
The conversation finally got going again, and it would appear a mutually profitable arrangement was made.
Now the ex-Ambassador, being no fool, knew that the bill was going to be of such an enormity that the exec would almost certainly make a scene - which, in the polite society at the table would almost certainly lead to no deal being done, and prejudice his commission.
So he whispered to the exec that it was impolite for the host to ask for the bill ( sooo common) and he should just slip him his credit card, and he would take care of it all.
Don't ask me how he managed without a PIN, but it seems he did.
Commissions were paid, business was done, everyone was very happy.
The explosion didn't take place until a few weeks later when the exec's credit card bill arrived back in Idaho ( or wherever).
The dinner for 6 had cost nearly $20,000.
As the ex-Ambassador said, " You know, Mr. King, sometimes it is good for the soul to have it scoured.One has to pay for education"
So here's a tale to gladden your hearts on a Wednesday afternoon.
It seems that an ex-Ambassador ( no names no pack drill) has been having a bit of a hard time recently, but, of course, he continues to have very good connections at all sorts of levels of society. He puts these connections together with other people and takes a small commission for doing so.
A VERY senior executive of a certain American multinational, who had come up the hard way from what I can only describe as the uneducated and backward areas of the States, wanted a particular introduction to a certain group of people, and the ex-Ambassador was just the chap to do it.
A fee was agreed, and it was also agreed that the way to do it was to set up a dinner at an exclusive restaurant, where the group would just happen to be and they would be invited to join the executive and the ex-Ambassador at their table.
All was going absolutely swimmingly. Then one of the ( admittedly educated and worldly wise) group ordered some dish with truffles.
Now in all the best restaurants, a plate of truffles is brought, from which, after smelling and feeling the various fungi ( I shall be shot for referring to them as that), one is chosen for the dish. And a few slivers are grated into it.
Our executive thought he would like the truffle dish too.
The head waiter brought a silver salver with 5 creatures ( let's call them that).
As the executive was the host, the maitre d' took the plate to him first.
The executive promptly ate the one nearest him.
There was an aghast silence.
Then he ate a second one.
Then he cut the third one in half, and ate one half.
With shaking hand, the other truffle orderer picked up a truffle and ate it. Then the second. Finally, glancing about the restaurant ( since everyone there was riveted by the spectacle) he ate the final half.
" Not bad," said the exec. " Not too heavy, and quite tasty."
Naturally, the educated one was performing the equivalent of drinking the water from the finger-bowls, so as not to embarrass his host.
The conversation finally got going again, and it would appear a mutually profitable arrangement was made.
Now the ex-Ambassador, being no fool, knew that the bill was going to be of such an enormity that the exec would almost certainly make a scene - which, in the polite society at the table would almost certainly lead to no deal being done, and prejudice his commission.
So he whispered to the exec that it was impolite for the host to ask for the bill ( sooo common) and he should just slip him his credit card, and he would take care of it all.
Don't ask me how he managed without a PIN, but it seems he did.
Commissions were paid, business was done, everyone was very happy.
The explosion didn't take place until a few weeks later when the exec's credit card bill arrived back in Idaho ( or wherever).
The dinner for 6 had cost nearly $20,000.
As the ex-Ambassador said, " You know, Mr. King, sometimes it is good for the soul to have it scoured.One has to pay for education"
Thursday, February 11, 2010
My Mis-speak
I misquoted Sarah Palin, as admirably pointed out by Melanie Phillips.
It wasn't "change-thingy" it was "hopey-changey thing."
I think you'll agree there is a big difference. You have to give people hope to make change possible.
More importantly, what were ordinary voters actually wanting? As Palin says "How’s that hopey-changey thing workin’ out for you?’ she asked at one point. She blasted [Obama] for rising deficits, ‘apologizing for America’ in speeches in other countries, and for allowing the so-called Christmas bomber to board a plane headed for the United States, saying he was weak on the war on terrorism. ‘To win that war, we need a commander in chief, not a professor of law,’ she declared."
The three strands here are what made Reagan and Maggie Thatcher so great.
In America, you better make sure 1) the US is top dog 2) They can live in peace and quiet with the right to gun down each other if they want to ( but not be gunned down by anyone else) 3) You not only act tough but are tough and 4) as Frank Burns said in Mash " We're American. Everybody else better get used to it." I know that's 4, but hey maybe its only 2 as 1,3 & 4 are pretty interchangeable.
Obama hasn't fulfilled any of these criteria, not least making the US top dog. But that core conservative agenda of defending life, liberty and social order (which in turn offers the best chance of success in the pursuit of happiness) is largely scorned by all parties.
And if parents would only make their children say please and thank you from day one, as Nanny Frost says, 99% of our problems in this area would disappear.
It wasn't "change-thingy" it was "hopey-changey thing."
I think you'll agree there is a big difference. You have to give people hope to make change possible.
More importantly, what were ordinary voters actually wanting? As Palin says "How’s that hopey-changey thing workin’ out for you?’ she asked at one point. She blasted [Obama] for rising deficits, ‘apologizing for America’ in speeches in other countries, and for allowing the so-called Christmas bomber to board a plane headed for the United States, saying he was weak on the war on terrorism. ‘To win that war, we need a commander in chief, not a professor of law,’ she declared."
The three strands here are what made Reagan and Maggie Thatcher so great.
In America, you better make sure 1) the US is top dog 2) They can live in peace and quiet with the right to gun down each other if they want to ( but not be gunned down by anyone else) 3) You not only act tough but are tough and 4) as Frank Burns said in Mash " We're American. Everybody else better get used to it." I know that's 4, but hey maybe its only 2 as 1,3 & 4 are pretty interchangeable.
Obama hasn't fulfilled any of these criteria, not least making the US top dog. But that core conservative agenda of defending life, liberty and social order (which in turn offers the best chance of success in the pursuit of happiness) is largely scorned by all parties.
And if parents would only make their children say please and thank you from day one, as Nanny Frost says, 99% of our problems in this area would disappear.
Fifty ONE ways to lose a lover
"Fathers of other girls have never told me: "Don't forget to call Melissa from the dating site...." They just said "I don't approve of you and my daughter being together. I have a shotgun, a shovel and 20,000 acres of forest. Now bugger off!""
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
That Change - thingy
Sorry chaps and chapesses, but I just felt I had to comment on this.
On the GFK market research for TV pages, they have quick polls for odd things, but every now and again they have a serious one.
So yesterday the question was: How likely are you to vote in the coming General Election?
75% say they are very likely to do so, with only 11% saying they are unlikely.
Now it can be argued that this is hardly scientific polling - the voters aren't selected, triaged, weighted or anything else - but it does represent quite a large number of people ( I'm told over 10,000 but don't hold me to it).
The last time anything like this number would have been prepared to vote was 1997 - and before that 1979, both years of sea-change with voters thinking " It's time for a change"
So as a purely personal view, it seems this is another such year.
I would, however, direct you to Sarah Palin's recent gem:"You know, I keep asking people, how did that change-thingy work for you?"
On the GFK market research for TV pages, they have quick polls for odd things, but every now and again they have a serious one.
So yesterday the question was: How likely are you to vote in the coming General Election?
75% say they are very likely to do so, with only 11% saying they are unlikely.
Now it can be argued that this is hardly scientific polling - the voters aren't selected, triaged, weighted or anything else - but it does represent quite a large number of people ( I'm told over 10,000 but don't hold me to it).
The last time anything like this number would have been prepared to vote was 1997 - and before that 1979, both years of sea-change with voters thinking " It's time for a change"
So as a purely personal view, it seems this is another such year.
I would, however, direct you to Sarah Palin's recent gem:"You know, I keep asking people, how did that change-thingy work for you?"
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Ignorance and bliss
Yesterday was spent in Edinburgh on a high powered Gurkha Welfare Trust meeting. As always, these events are prequelled by lunch in a Nepalese restaurant.
The chat turn to " other things" and two gems emerged.
The first concerned the brand spanking new court in Livingstone, required because this "New Town" has the highest crime rate of anywhere in Scotland.
Just before it was due to open, a group of the Sheriffs who would be presiding were ushered round it's magnificence, until they actually got into a court room.
Almost instantly, there was consternation.
" What's the matter?" asked the (English) civil servant who had been in charge of this pleasure dome.
" You've only got 12 jury places."
" So?"
" In Scotland we have 15"
Of course the design had been approved in Whitehall, who, as ever, show complete ignorance of pretty much anything.
It took three months and about £30,000 per court room to sort that one.
The other little story concerned David Niven, who we all love. He lived with Errol Flynn for some time and I can only imagine what the state of the shared house would be like after a night....
My late father-in-law knew Niven before the war, and, indeed, has cine film of him playing hockey at the old Maryhill Barracks when he enlisted.
Niven went on ( with breaks) to become a decorated senior officer, but first he had to undergo Sandhurst.
Towards the end of the course, a senior General came to address the assembled subalterns, and at the end of the briefing, asked for questions.
Niven put his hand up.
" That man there ... good chap.. What's your name?"
" Niven Sir."
" Jolly good, what's the question?"
" I was just wondering, sir, if you could tell me the time of the next train to London?"
I'm pretty sure he didn't get to go...officially anyway.
The chat turn to " other things" and two gems emerged.
The first concerned the brand spanking new court in Livingstone, required because this "New Town" has the highest crime rate of anywhere in Scotland.
Just before it was due to open, a group of the Sheriffs who would be presiding were ushered round it's magnificence, until they actually got into a court room.
Almost instantly, there was consternation.
" What's the matter?" asked the (English) civil servant who had been in charge of this pleasure dome.
" You've only got 12 jury places."
" So?"
" In Scotland we have 15"
Of course the design had been approved in Whitehall, who, as ever, show complete ignorance of pretty much anything.
It took three months and about £30,000 per court room to sort that one.
The other little story concerned David Niven, who we all love. He lived with Errol Flynn for some time and I can only imagine what the state of the shared house would be like after a night....
My late father-in-law knew Niven before the war, and, indeed, has cine film of him playing hockey at the old Maryhill Barracks when he enlisted.
Niven went on ( with breaks) to become a decorated senior officer, but first he had to undergo Sandhurst.
Towards the end of the course, a senior General came to address the assembled subalterns, and at the end of the briefing, asked for questions.
Niven put his hand up.
" That man there ... good chap.. What's your name?"
" Niven Sir."
" Jolly good, what's the question?"
" I was just wondering, sir, if you could tell me the time of the next train to London?"
I'm pretty sure he didn't get to go...officially anyway.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
A Joke by any other name...
Being around computery type people definitely confirms those strange ads for Intel - you know the ones " Our rock stars are different from yours.." and " Our jokes are different from yours.."
So it was with some inner disbelief I heard a joke between two of aforesaid computery people.
It seems there was a certain lady school teacher who was in charge of computers at a certain school.
She required to get into another teacher's email.
Now teacher number 2 had had her email account set up by the installer of the school's computer system, who had put the password in, and then saved it for her.
But it wasn't a password like the name of your favourite dog, it was one of those X1Ffe#qWW ones ie completely useless for security if it's a) never changed b) not entered in the system each time.
Anyway, teacher 2 ( who is off sick) says to teacher 1 " Its OK, you can see the password - it's 9 asterisks...."
Like Intel says.....
So it was with some inner disbelief I heard a joke between two of aforesaid computery people.
It seems there was a certain lady school teacher who was in charge of computers at a certain school.
She required to get into another teacher's email.
Now teacher number 2 had had her email account set up by the installer of the school's computer system, who had put the password in, and then saved it for her.
But it wasn't a password like the name of your favourite dog, it was one of those X1Ffe#qWW ones ie completely useless for security if it's a) never changed b) not entered in the system each time.
Anyway, teacher 2 ( who is off sick) says to teacher 1 " Its OK, you can see the password - it's 9 asterisks...."
Like Intel says.....
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Lunchtime with two Bunnies.
So there I was the other day having lunch with an ex-Playboy Bunny, when a friend of hers ( a slightly younger version of same) dropped by the table to say Hi.
Nothing would do but that she should join us and was fascinated to hear I was an Internet entrepreneur and had a domain name business.
" Gee," she said, " That's real great! Are you one of these people who sit on people's names?"
I opined I wasn't but she then told me all about how herownname.com had already been registered, and ,gosh, she just had no idea how to find out who owned it ( sticks chest out, bats eyelashes, puts finger to mouth...), and she would just be soooo grateful...
By now I was really embarrassed by all the stares I was getting from everyone in the restaurant at the two outrageously blond beauties I was clearly getting along so well with, and as the coffees had just about been drunk, I paid the bill and nipped off.
When I got back to the office I checked out herownname.com and lo and behold it was me who owned it. We had bought a bundle of names at an all in price a few weeks ago, and her name was amongst them.
So I phoned her up ( you didn't think I didn't ask for her phone number did you?) and told her I owned it and would happily transfer it to her.
At a reasonable price.
In dollars.
Not in kind.
**
The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
It wasn't me either, it was a chap called Rick Latona who is the biggest domain name owner in the world.
Nothing would do but that she should join us and was fascinated to hear I was an Internet entrepreneur and had a domain name business.
" Gee," she said, " That's real great! Are you one of these people who sit on people's names?"
I opined I wasn't but she then told me all about how herownname.com had already been registered, and ,gosh, she just had no idea how to find out who owned it ( sticks chest out, bats eyelashes, puts finger to mouth...), and she would just be soooo grateful...
By now I was really embarrassed by all the stares I was getting from everyone in the restaurant at the two outrageously blond beauties I was clearly getting along so well with, and as the coffees had just about been drunk, I paid the bill and nipped off.
When I got back to the office I checked out herownname.com and lo and behold it was me who owned it. We had bought a bundle of names at an all in price a few weeks ago, and her name was amongst them.
So I phoned her up ( you didn't think I didn't ask for her phone number did you?) and told her I owned it and would happily transfer it to her.
At a reasonable price.
In dollars.
Not in kind.
**
The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
It wasn't me either, it was a chap called Rick Latona who is the biggest domain name owner in the world.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Why being a Banker is now a euphemism...
We, dear reader, are the owners of something like 80-odd% of RBS and 45 % of Llloyds, quite apart from the about £2 trillion that the BofE is supporting them with in loans and guarantees, so you would expect that they might just be a tiny bit interested in keeping us "on side".
Not a bit of it. Their service continues to deteriorate faster than their balance sheets are slumping.
A friend has a couple of properties that are VAT rateable, so he has to add VAT to the rents. You will be aware that the rate has changed twice over the last year or so, first down to 15% then up again to 17.5%.
So when the rate went down, he carefully filled in the standing orders for his tenants, and made sure they signed and gave them to their respective banks ( aww you've guessed already, one was HBOS, part of Lloyds, the other RBS).
And he waited for the money to arrive in his account.
Well, it did -sort of. One of the banks paid two standing orders, one with the correct 15% VAT, the other with 17.5%. The other bank paid neither. Discretion impels me not to reveal which was which.
It took a couple of months to sort it out, and eventually he managed to get both banks to pay the correct amount. The little hiccup at the beginning they could not sort out - there was an exchange of cheques...
Move on a year and the VAT rate has just gone back up.
Same scenario, properly filled in standing orders, acknowledged by both banks...
And the same bank paid two lots and the other paid none.
Except the bank that had paid two then paid a third one.
As my friend says, " And they want to abolish cheques? It's the only way there is of making sure they do it right."
I'm not so sure about that. Twice I have paid a cheque to cover a credit card bill over the counter, and the bank has managed to give the card company the wrong amount ( despite giving me an electronic receipt for the right amount).
More recently, I upped my personal overdraft over Christmas and New Year for two weeks. On the due date for the increase to expire, the account was below its original limit - except the bank had not only removed the increase, they removed the overdraft completely - and charged me two lots of £25 for being over limit.
When I remonstrated, I was told ( admittedly by a minion and not the relationship manager I have) that there was no agreement for an overdraft ( can't find anything about it she said) and the £25 was for being over limit on the expiry date.
" So what's the other £25 for?, " I innocently asked.
" Oh, that's the charge for having the "privilege" account you hold." Silly question obviously.
When my relationship manager got back 5 days later, I taxed him with the problem.
" Ah yes, " he said." Don't worry, I will reinstate the overdraft "( which had had another 9 months to run)
" And what about the ( by now) £75 of charges your bank's mistake has so far cost me?"
" Ah yes. Well, I'll see what I can do..."
By return of post came a facility letter for the overdraft. Except it only had 6 months to run, not 9.
And there was a fee which exactly covered the charges - along with his chatty letter saying he had waived the charges for the over limits.
Nice work if you can get it.
Not a bit of it. Their service continues to deteriorate faster than their balance sheets are slumping.
A friend has a couple of properties that are VAT rateable, so he has to add VAT to the rents. You will be aware that the rate has changed twice over the last year or so, first down to 15% then up again to 17.5%.
So when the rate went down, he carefully filled in the standing orders for his tenants, and made sure they signed and gave them to their respective banks ( aww you've guessed already, one was HBOS, part of Lloyds, the other RBS).
And he waited for the money to arrive in his account.
Well, it did -sort of. One of the banks paid two standing orders, one with the correct 15% VAT, the other with 17.5%. The other bank paid neither. Discretion impels me not to reveal which was which.
It took a couple of months to sort it out, and eventually he managed to get both banks to pay the correct amount. The little hiccup at the beginning they could not sort out - there was an exchange of cheques...
Move on a year and the VAT rate has just gone back up.
Same scenario, properly filled in standing orders, acknowledged by both banks...
And the same bank paid two lots and the other paid none.
Except the bank that had paid two then paid a third one.
As my friend says, " And they want to abolish cheques? It's the only way there is of making sure they do it right."
I'm not so sure about that. Twice I have paid a cheque to cover a credit card bill over the counter, and the bank has managed to give the card company the wrong amount ( despite giving me an electronic receipt for the right amount).
More recently, I upped my personal overdraft over Christmas and New Year for two weeks. On the due date for the increase to expire, the account was below its original limit - except the bank had not only removed the increase, they removed the overdraft completely - and charged me two lots of £25 for being over limit.
When I remonstrated, I was told ( admittedly by a minion and not the relationship manager I have) that there was no agreement for an overdraft ( can't find anything about it she said) and the £25 was for being over limit on the expiry date.
" So what's the other £25 for?, " I innocently asked.
" Oh, that's the charge for having the "privilege" account you hold." Silly question obviously.
When my relationship manager got back 5 days later, I taxed him with the problem.
" Ah yes, " he said." Don't worry, I will reinstate the overdraft "( which had had another 9 months to run)
" And what about the ( by now) £75 of charges your bank's mistake has so far cost me?"
" Ah yes. Well, I'll see what I can do..."
By return of post came a facility letter for the overdraft. Except it only had 6 months to run, not 9.
And there was a fee which exactly covered the charges - along with his chatty letter saying he had waived the charges for the over limits.
Nice work if you can get it.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Making a difference
Weirdly, the two largest online dating nations are the UK and South Africa. Don't ask me why I know this - it's part of my plan to carve a new career doing even less than I do now.
What has surprised me, though, is the infinite splitting. The marketeers always say get your market properly " sliced" and then swamp your slice.
But the range and variety of dating sites defies belief. Not only do you have white, black, asian, old,young, pink,yellow, religious,green etc etc, but in every segment there is gay, bisexual,lesbian ( what's the difference between gay and lesbian? I thought gay was both men and women), heterosexual, Goth, Jedi you name it.
There is quite clearly a market for these services. I believe more than 3 million people currently use them in the UK - and it would appear there are many more who simply use agencies and newspaper ads. Some of the companies concerned have turnovers in excess of £50 million pa, and of course because its all online their costs are minimal.
So I was quite taken with an ad I saw which started:
"Missing cat - possibly."
To cut a long story short the person advertising was looking for a partner who could bring a cat - but only one that had a nice nature. It was a play on words that the advertiser was " missing" her deceased cat... oh, never mind..
The nicest cats I know are extremely old and sleep all the time....
I'm reminded of my long dead extremely rich old aunt ( never left me a penny, but at least there was no cost to me) who - when crossing the Atlantic in the Queen Mary between the wars, saw a good looking young American at the bar and remarked to her sister " Well, he'll do for a dance or two".
That would seem to be the perfect match required, for they were married for more than 45 years.
What has surprised me, though, is the infinite splitting. The marketeers always say get your market properly " sliced" and then swamp your slice.
But the range and variety of dating sites defies belief. Not only do you have white, black, asian, old,young, pink,yellow, religious,green etc etc, but in every segment there is gay, bisexual,lesbian ( what's the difference between gay and lesbian? I thought gay was both men and women), heterosexual, Goth, Jedi you name it.
There is quite clearly a market for these services. I believe more than 3 million people currently use them in the UK - and it would appear there are many more who simply use agencies and newspaper ads. Some of the companies concerned have turnovers in excess of £50 million pa, and of course because its all online their costs are minimal.
So I was quite taken with an ad I saw which started:
"Missing cat - possibly."
To cut a long story short the person advertising was looking for a partner who could bring a cat - but only one that had a nice nature. It was a play on words that the advertiser was " missing" her deceased cat... oh, never mind..
The nicest cats I know are extremely old and sleep all the time....
I'm reminded of my long dead extremely rich old aunt ( never left me a penny, but at least there was no cost to me) who - when crossing the Atlantic in the Queen Mary between the wars, saw a good looking young American at the bar and remarked to her sister " Well, he'll do for a dance or two".
That would seem to be the perfect match required, for they were married for more than 45 years.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Declining...
I was delighted to hear on the radio this morning some twit telling us all we should be jolly grateful that we lived in the fifth biggest economy in the world and it was unacceptable ( God I hate that word) that we still had child poverty. Of course, this is largely a matter of definition ( I believe it's if you have 40% of the average earnings you are described as being in poverty) - but it remains true that we have an underclass who will never escape. It's also bollocks, because we are actually 9th or even 10th now.
However, what exercised my mind was that before the 1997 election one G.Brown gave a speech, in which he said ( and I quote) " It is unacceptable that in the World's FOURTH largest economy that there should still be child poverty in the 20th Century."
So there you have it.
Kinnock may have talked of thirteen years of Tory misrule, but 13 years of Labour misrule has managed far worse...
However, what exercised my mind was that before the 1997 election one G.Brown gave a speech, in which he said ( and I quote) " It is unacceptable that in the World's FOURTH largest economy that there should still be child poverty in the 20th Century."
So there you have it.
Kinnock may have talked of thirteen years of Tory misrule, but 13 years of Labour misrule has managed far worse...
Racist Rag
Mr. Fact and I were discussing how many hits a particular website had received in November last year.
" Exclusive? It had more hits that the Independent web site!"
I opined that more people read this blog that read the Indie.
His response was that was hardly surprising as I did not cater in any way for the people who lived in Glenda Jackson's constituency.
" In fact ( he starts many of his sentences like that)in Glenda Jackson's constituency they deliver the Sunday Telegraph in a plain brown envelope. It's considered the equivalent of Der Sturmer and the local paper complains that the BBC is too pro-Israel and ignores the plight of Palestinian suicide bombers' families."
" Exclusive? It had more hits that the Independent web site!"
I opined that more people read this blog that read the Indie.
His response was that was hardly surprising as I did not cater in any way for the people who lived in Glenda Jackson's constituency.
" In fact ( he starts many of his sentences like that)in Glenda Jackson's constituency they deliver the Sunday Telegraph in a plain brown envelope. It's considered the equivalent of Der Sturmer and the local paper complains that the BBC is too pro-Israel and ignores the plight of Palestinian suicide bombers' families."
Monday, January 25, 2010
You're never too old to learn something new...
"I heard a story of a guy who put his Ginger Tom Cat in the Cats home for 3 months(You can imagine the size of the bill) When he expressed shock on getting the Cat out the bill was mysteriously reduced when he decided to pay in cash!! The Customs people are clearly not counting the cats in and out as they should be doing. If the Inland Revenue can sit outside a Fish and Chip Shop counting the punters then someone is falling down on the Job when it comes to this. Was it two businesses one for Cats and one for Dogs both below the threshold for VAT?Always ask for a VAT receipt to claim back the cost of the Cat when away on business."
I read this today in response to a post about a scam from petrol stations. When you fill up with petrol, if you don't take a VAT receipt, the garageiste prints it out anyway, then sells it to cab companies, who can not only claim the VAT back but also reduce their taxable earnings by the "extra" fuel used.
The point, though, is not that we all have a little larceny in our souls, but that I had never thought of claiming for the cat....
I read this today in response to a post about a scam from petrol stations. When you fill up with petrol, if you don't take a VAT receipt, the garageiste prints it out anyway, then sells it to cab companies, who can not only claim the VAT back but also reduce their taxable earnings by the "extra" fuel used.
The point, though, is not that we all have a little larceny in our souls, but that I had never thought of claiming for the cat....
You must be joking
I was astonished to learn from the Herald today that Gerald Butler ( The 300, Rock 'n Rolla)) has been voted as Scot of the Year by 66% of the repondents in a survey for a charity called Scotcare.
Even more astonishingly, Scotcare's objects are described as " Taking care of Scots in London"
Maybe the stories about one Mr. G.Brown being bonkers are true....
It would be even better if they took care of Scots in Scotland.
PS
I couldn't find the story online in the Herald, hence the link to the Daily Record
Even more astonishingly, Scotcare's objects are described as " Taking care of Scots in London"
Maybe the stories about one Mr. G.Brown being bonkers are true....
It would be even better if they took care of Scots in Scotland.
PS
I couldn't find the story online in the Herald, hence the link to the Daily Record
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Acting the Part
Being less than willing to go out and about at this time of year, now is the winter of our watching films.
Being a BAFTA member means I have to watch lots, but I regret to say that past great films are ever a siren call to me. Arguments rage about who was a great actor ( John Wayne, Henry Fonda, Robert Mitchum, Gary Cooper, Clark Gable,Spencer Tracy etc etc etc) and in truth many of the films they made are less than good, and their performances could only be described as formulaic. The films were made at a time when the studio bosses had absolute power over their stars and they did as they were told or face the consequences.
But every now and again the star got the director he deserved and something truly excellent emerged. I think of eg Wayne and John Ford ( OK I admit I love cowboy films) and Big John just has to be The American he became, but Ford had a gift for making a story come alive, and an actor mean what he said.
So it was with glee that I saw " My Darling Clementine " was on the box recently. It's not particularly accurate historically, but the effect of the direction and acting is to produce perhaps the best classic western ever. Ford is absolutely on the top of his form.
Henry Fonda has a stillness and power he lacks in many other of his films, whilst Victor Mature, never an actor I particularly liked, is better than he ever was anywhere else, and Walter Brennan as Pa Clinton has a smiling hate and avarice that belies his cuddly image from many other films.
As with all great films, there are light moments that break the menace. Today's directors would do well to remember that.
The one I particularly like in this film is when Fonda ( Earp) asks Mac the barman:
" Have you ever been in love Mac?"
" No," says Mac. " I've been a bartender all may life."
Many of us would agree.
Being a BAFTA member means I have to watch lots, but I regret to say that past great films are ever a siren call to me. Arguments rage about who was a great actor ( John Wayne, Henry Fonda, Robert Mitchum, Gary Cooper, Clark Gable,Spencer Tracy etc etc etc) and in truth many of the films they made are less than good, and their performances could only be described as formulaic. The films were made at a time when the studio bosses had absolute power over their stars and they did as they were told or face the consequences.
But every now and again the star got the director he deserved and something truly excellent emerged. I think of eg Wayne and John Ford ( OK I admit I love cowboy films) and Big John just has to be The American he became, but Ford had a gift for making a story come alive, and an actor mean what he said.
So it was with glee that I saw " My Darling Clementine " was on the box recently. It's not particularly accurate historically, but the effect of the direction and acting is to produce perhaps the best classic western ever. Ford is absolutely on the top of his form.
Henry Fonda has a stillness and power he lacks in many other of his films, whilst Victor Mature, never an actor I particularly liked, is better than he ever was anywhere else, and Walter Brennan as Pa Clinton has a smiling hate and avarice that belies his cuddly image from many other films.
As with all great films, there are light moments that break the menace. Today's directors would do well to remember that.
The one I particularly like in this film is when Fonda ( Earp) asks Mac the barman:
" Have you ever been in love Mac?"
" No," says Mac. " I've been a bartender all may life."
Many of us would agree.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
How to win votes and make friends..
We don't have any more snow around here, but I was still able to stand on the ice at the edge of the pond in the park today. In our water butt at the back door, there is still an iceberg that is at least 30 cms thick, and I am still wandering about the house with my husky on - we Scots refuse to have the heating on from 09:30 am until 17:30 pm. Actually that's not quite true - its on for an hour over lunch....
I was discussing the effect of temperature on our psyches with a friend the other day. He assured me he felt much more like sex when it was warm and sunny - quite apart from the pyjamas, sweaters, hot-water bottles and the potential for electrocuting yourself on the electric blanket proving a turn-off in the winter. He was also quite sure that business activity always started to pick up again as the temperatures started to fall in September each year, and categorically averred that that was why countries further south than Munich weren't at the forefront of wealth.
I'm not so sure about this - India,Brazil, China and even Japan seem to be doing all right, although I know there are chilly parts in all these countries.
Over on Takimag, Patrick J. Buchanan has an excellent piece on why America's own Mr. Brown did so well in Massachusetts. Basically, the majority white population which works hard and pays its taxes has reached the point where they won't put up with depredations on their wallets for immigrants and ne'er do wells any more.
The same applies here. Gordon Brown's British Jobs for British Workers expresses it perfectly - except we can't do that because we have given away our sovereignty to the EU. America, fortunately, has not yet done so, and I would suggest that because of their history they never will.
Buchanan finishes with the following quote:"What the McDonnell, Christie, and Brown victories teach is that the GOP should stop listening to the Wall Street Journal and start listening to these ( white) forgotten Americans.
An end to affirmative action and ethnic preferences, an end to bailouts of Wall Street bankers, a moratorium on immigration until unemployment falls to 6 percent, an industrial policy that creates jobs here and stops shipping them to China appear a winning hand in 2012. "
The last paragraph says it all.
I was discussing the effect of temperature on our psyches with a friend the other day. He assured me he felt much more like sex when it was warm and sunny - quite apart from the pyjamas, sweaters, hot-water bottles and the potential for electrocuting yourself on the electric blanket proving a turn-off in the winter. He was also quite sure that business activity always started to pick up again as the temperatures started to fall in September each year, and categorically averred that that was why countries further south than Munich weren't at the forefront of wealth.
I'm not so sure about this - India,Brazil, China and even Japan seem to be doing all right, although I know there are chilly parts in all these countries.
Over on Takimag, Patrick J. Buchanan has an excellent piece on why America's own Mr. Brown did so well in Massachusetts. Basically, the majority white population which works hard and pays its taxes has reached the point where they won't put up with depredations on their wallets for immigrants and ne'er do wells any more.
The same applies here. Gordon Brown's British Jobs for British Workers expresses it perfectly - except we can't do that because we have given away our sovereignty to the EU. America, fortunately, has not yet done so, and I would suggest that because of their history they never will.
Buchanan finishes with the following quote:"What the McDonnell, Christie, and Brown victories teach is that the GOP should stop listening to the Wall Street Journal and start listening to these ( white) forgotten Americans.
An end to affirmative action and ethnic preferences, an end to bailouts of Wall Street bankers, a moratorium on immigration until unemployment falls to 6 percent, an industrial policy that creates jobs here and stops shipping them to China appear a winning hand in 2012. "
The last paragraph says it all.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Council of Perfection
I don't for one instant suggest that the following are representative of what happens in Glasgow City Council, but then again, you never know.
The first tale is quite mundane in its application.
A plumber, working for the Direct Labour organisation within GCC, whenever he went home at night simply took 4 cans of paint out with him.
And stored them in his back bedroom on the third floor of a tenement flat he lived in.
This went on for quite a long time.
Until one night, he was sitting watching the TV when he heard the most almighty roar and the whole building shook as if it had been hit by an earthquake.
Getting up to investigate ( the noise was from the back of the house) he open the door to the back bedroom to discover there was no longer a bedroom.
Nor a back wall.
The weight of the paint had finally broken the joists all the way down, which had simply collapsed the back of the flats.
The second tale is far more complex.
GCC over the years has done several upgrades to its housing stock.This consists of people in a block moving out and a complete upgrade, including eg turning 3 flats into 2 giving both internal bathrooms.
So when the workmen came to start work on a particular premises they were told that there had been a gents toilet behind a certain wall, that had been blocked up many years previously after a fire.
Now it was to be knocked through to provide a fire escape, and work duly started. A hole was made and the navvy stuck his head through to see if there were any problems.
He drew back slowly.
" Er, I'm into a kitchen."
What had happened was that when the next door building was being done up, the old toilet had been Incorporated ( there was a wall after all) and that one flat had a super big kitchen which none of the others in the block had.
Needless to say, it was one of the flats that had been sold off by the Council.
I'm told it cost them more than £250,000 to sort out the problems they had created for themselves...
The first tale is quite mundane in its application.
A plumber, working for the Direct Labour organisation within GCC, whenever he went home at night simply took 4 cans of paint out with him.
And stored them in his back bedroom on the third floor of a tenement flat he lived in.
This went on for quite a long time.
Until one night, he was sitting watching the TV when he heard the most almighty roar and the whole building shook as if it had been hit by an earthquake.
Getting up to investigate ( the noise was from the back of the house) he open the door to the back bedroom to discover there was no longer a bedroom.
Nor a back wall.
The weight of the paint had finally broken the joists all the way down, which had simply collapsed the back of the flats.
The second tale is far more complex.
GCC over the years has done several upgrades to its housing stock.This consists of people in a block moving out and a complete upgrade, including eg turning 3 flats into 2 giving both internal bathrooms.
So when the workmen came to start work on a particular premises they were told that there had been a gents toilet behind a certain wall, that had been blocked up many years previously after a fire.
Now it was to be knocked through to provide a fire escape, and work duly started. A hole was made and the navvy stuck his head through to see if there were any problems.
He drew back slowly.
" Er, I'm into a kitchen."
What had happened was that when the next door building was being done up, the old toilet had been Incorporated ( there was a wall after all) and that one flat had a super big kitchen which none of the others in the block had.
Needless to say, it was one of the flats that had been sold off by the Council.
I'm told it cost them more than £250,000 to sort out the problems they had created for themselves...
Thursday, January 21, 2010
If all else fails ( part deux)..
Whilst I was having lunch yesterday with my legal friend, the ( confessed) criminal he was about to sentence did a runner. As my friend says " What an idiot. He had confessed to the crime already he would have got off quite lightly. Now he's an absconder and the tariff goes up by 3 times"
He adds: " Of course in Glasgow or London it's easy for them to disappear, which is why they don't get let out there. But in Edinburgh? We let them wander about because THERE'S NO PLACE TO HIDE....."
He adds: " Of course in Glasgow or London it's easy for them to disappear, which is why they don't get let out there. But in Edinburgh? We let them wander about because THERE'S NO PLACE TO HIDE....."
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
If all else fails...
I had lunch today with a friend in Edinburgh.
He is approaching judicial retirement age, and as we chatted, we talked of the bad winters past. He remembered 1947 ( I don't) and we both had memories of 1962/3.
" I was at Basil Paterson's trying to get another A level."
I had forgotten all about this " crammer", which has had an illustrious career and an even more illustrious roll of Old Boys.
In my friend's case, he had finished school with one A level. In those days, there were no grades, but you needed two to get into Youni.
So off he trotted to BP. His academic career had been less than sparkling, but his two best subject were physics and chemistry. He spent a year and managed to get a D in physics ( it was the first year of grades) thus giving him the required 2 As. No mention was made of the chemistry....
He then went to sit the entrance exam for St. Andrews. I believe to this day, he is the only person who has ever failed it. He insists they must have lost his papers.
What to do? As he says, " Well, the Law Faculty at Dundee was just being massively expanded, and they had lots of spare places so I went there - no exam needed. Of course, I didn't know that Scot's law was different from every other legal system in the world. So I was stuck with it."
Which I may say he has done very successfully.
He is approaching judicial retirement age, and as we chatted, we talked of the bad winters past. He remembered 1947 ( I don't) and we both had memories of 1962/3.
" I was at Basil Paterson's trying to get another A level."
I had forgotten all about this " crammer", which has had an illustrious career and an even more illustrious roll of Old Boys.
In my friend's case, he had finished school with one A level. In those days, there were no grades, but you needed two to get into Youni.
So off he trotted to BP. His academic career had been less than sparkling, but his two best subject were physics and chemistry. He spent a year and managed to get a D in physics ( it was the first year of grades) thus giving him the required 2 As. No mention was made of the chemistry....
He then went to sit the entrance exam for St. Andrews. I believe to this day, he is the only person who has ever failed it. He insists they must have lost his papers.
What to do? As he says, " Well, the Law Faculty at Dundee was just being massively expanded, and they had lots of spare places so I went there - no exam needed. Of course, I didn't know that Scot's law was different from every other legal system in the world. So I was stuck with it."
Which I may say he has done very successfully.
" I'm an American"**
I'm delighted that America has returned to its senses. Obama's insane idea to bulldoze health care ( that from all I have read most people it think won't work in its present form) has itself been derailed with the election of a Republican to Ted Kennedy's old Senate seat.
Mind you, I can't help but think that the voters there were glad to have a change after 40 odd years of the Kennedys.
The message it also sends is that there is a distinct limit to what people are prepared to allow its government to take from it to spend. In America, this is much lower than we are prepared to pay here. I note our present Government has simply ignored this and borrowed/created/finagled money without actually asking us for it, so that when the bill becomes due, we will get landed with it. Its a bit like a "Dutch treat" dinner party when you drink tap water and eat a salad, and the other person has the gourmet menu and three bottles of wine, and then says " We'll just split the bill 50/50".
The other thing of course is that America sees itself as the good cowboy in the white hat, who is tough but fair, and never backs down. Obama's Nobel peace prize effectively sent the voters a message that he was a surrender monkey. I always remember Maureen O'Hara, the great , great John Wayne's close friend, who initiated the petition for the Congressional medal of Honour for him,and requested the words that would be placed onto the medal: "It is my great honor to be here. I beg you to strike a medal for the Duke, to order the President to strike it. And I feel that the medal should say just one thing, 'John Wayne, American." The medal crafted by the United States Mint has on one side John Wayne riding on horseback, and the other side has a portrait of Wayne with the words, "John Wayne, American."
Obama will never get a medal like that.
**A reference to a CNN advert of the early 2000s which had pictures of many and diverse Americans all saying " I'm an American" Powerful , tear-to-eyestuff.
Mind you, I can't help but think that the voters there were glad to have a change after 40 odd years of the Kennedys.
The message it also sends is that there is a distinct limit to what people are prepared to allow its government to take from it to spend. In America, this is much lower than we are prepared to pay here. I note our present Government has simply ignored this and borrowed/created/finagled money without actually asking us for it, so that when the bill becomes due, we will get landed with it. Its a bit like a "Dutch treat" dinner party when you drink tap water and eat a salad, and the other person has the gourmet menu and three bottles of wine, and then says " We'll just split the bill 50/50".
The other thing of course is that America sees itself as the good cowboy in the white hat, who is tough but fair, and never backs down. Obama's Nobel peace prize effectively sent the voters a message that he was a surrender monkey. I always remember Maureen O'Hara, the great , great John Wayne's close friend, who initiated the petition for the Congressional medal of Honour for him,and requested the words that would be placed onto the medal: "It is my great honor to be here. I beg you to strike a medal for the Duke, to order the President to strike it. And I feel that the medal should say just one thing, 'John Wayne, American." The medal crafted by the United States Mint has on one side John Wayne riding on horseback, and the other side has a portrait of Wayne with the words, "John Wayne, American."
Obama will never get a medal like that.
**A reference to a CNN advert of the early 2000s which had pictures of many and diverse Americans all saying " I'm an American" Powerful , tear-to-eyestuff.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
My SuperPower
The new Mrs. Rock God aka ex-middle Ms. Lear was just making a cup of tea as I got back into the office this afternoon.
I have noticed that I do this quite frequently, even although it is not always at the same time of day. I've also noticed I can read minds about cups of tea, because any time I ever ask anyone if they would like a cup, they always say yes.
As she made me a cup as well, she was looking thoughtful.
" Well Dad, you definitely have a SuperPower telling you when to appear to get a cup of tea. Unfortunately, as SuperPowers go, it's not up there with time travel or invisibility...."
I have noticed that I do this quite frequently, even although it is not always at the same time of day. I've also noticed I can read minds about cups of tea, because any time I ever ask anyone if they would like a cup, they always say yes.
As she made me a cup as well, she was looking thoughtful.
" Well Dad, you definitely have a SuperPower telling you when to appear to get a cup of tea. Unfortunately, as SuperPowers go, it's not up there with time travel or invisibility...."
Monday, January 18, 2010
One more for the Road...
Whilst descending an escalator the other day, I noticed a sign which said :"Most accidents happen through loss of balance."
This was presumably intended as a warning for anyone on the escalator, but it struck me that the same is true in any sphere. The old adage that when you start believing your own PR you are already in trouble supports the thesis, and, arguably, the financial meltdown we have all been experiencing represents a collective, massive loss of balance.
The Edinburgh architectural practice that has hired Sir Fred Goodwin has either lost it's marbles and balance or has just scooped the most massive coup. According to all reports I have read it is the former, but I seriously suggested to a colleague recently that we could do much worse than hire Fred. He looked at me as if I had two heads. As you know, this happens quite frequently to me.
It was suggested I had been on the Buckie, better known as Buckfast, which is a fortified wine that seems to contain massive doses of caffeine - about 5 coffees per glass.
The report in the Herald today has some gems about this most revered of down-and-outs drink.
For instance, it accounts for 0.5% of all alcohol sales in Scotland ( mostly around Glasgow) yet would appear to be a factor in a very much higher incidence of violence. Over 5000 crime reports in the last year have mentioned it, and a Buckfast bottle has been used as a weapon in more than 114 cases. This far outstrips any other bottle as a weapon - you might almost say it is the weapon of choice among a certain section of society.
So today has had a sort of surreal aspect so far, and my mind is full of cowboys drawing their Buckfast bottles at the OK Corral...
As Alin would say, We shall see....
This was presumably intended as a warning for anyone on the escalator, but it struck me that the same is true in any sphere. The old adage that when you start believing your own PR you are already in trouble supports the thesis, and, arguably, the financial meltdown we have all been experiencing represents a collective, massive loss of balance.
The Edinburgh architectural practice that has hired Sir Fred Goodwin has either lost it's marbles and balance or has just scooped the most massive coup. According to all reports I have read it is the former, but I seriously suggested to a colleague recently that we could do much worse than hire Fred. He looked at me as if I had two heads. As you know, this happens quite frequently to me.
It was suggested I had been on the Buckie, better known as Buckfast, which is a fortified wine that seems to contain massive doses of caffeine - about 5 coffees per glass.
The report in the Herald today has some gems about this most revered of down-and-outs drink.
For instance, it accounts for 0.5% of all alcohol sales in Scotland ( mostly around Glasgow) yet would appear to be a factor in a very much higher incidence of violence. Over 5000 crime reports in the last year have mentioned it, and a Buckfast bottle has been used as a weapon in more than 114 cases. This far outstrips any other bottle as a weapon - you might almost say it is the weapon of choice among a certain section of society.
So today has had a sort of surreal aspect so far, and my mind is full of cowboys drawing their Buckfast bottles at the OK Corral...
As Alin would say, We shall see....
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Indignity
Reading John Redwood's blog this morning about his Jaguar reminded me of a happening when I were a lad.
'Twas the winter of '62/'63 which was a really hard one ( much worse than this by the way - no trains have been lost in the Highlands so far as I know this time round).
We were living in Paris which was rather grand in a strange way, and my mother's brand of French kept the neighbours and shop-keepers in a constant state of perplexity.
We were to travel from Paris to Bern in Switzerland and thence to Grindlewald for Christmas and New Year, and though it was snowy we were to drive in my father's Mk2 Jag - a superb car when it worked.
Cutting a very long story short, what should have been about a 7hr drive was already beyond that as we went through Pontarlier - which practically speaking you can't any more. It is /was a lovely small town which has succumbed to by-passes and the like.
As we climbed the hill the other side of the town, through the trees and up the pass, the Jag slipped and slid around, despite having winter tyres on ( I don't suppose many people in the UK even know what these are...)
Eventually we could go no further - stuck half way up a hill we had charged 3 or 4 times.
The snow fell.
We wondered what to do.
And then from behind came the unmistakable noise of a VW Beetle.
It put-putted past us, then pulled in.
Fortunately, the chap inside could understand what the problem was, without my mother's rather eccentric explanation. I seem to remember beetroot was mentioned...
Without further ado, a chain was removed from the VW's boot, attached to the Jag and we were pulled safely to the next town, where the Beetle was going anyway.
Despite being the middle of the night by now, a set of chains was purchased somehow - or maybe they were just borrowed for the duration.
These were fitted and the Jag was able to proceed on it's own.
As we clunked along the road, my father sighed.
" I can't imagine how this car is ever going to live down having to be towed by a Beetle..."
It never did.
'Twas the winter of '62/'63 which was a really hard one ( much worse than this by the way - no trains have been lost in the Highlands so far as I know this time round).
We were living in Paris which was rather grand in a strange way, and my mother's brand of French kept the neighbours and shop-keepers in a constant state of perplexity.
We were to travel from Paris to Bern in Switzerland and thence to Grindlewald for Christmas and New Year, and though it was snowy we were to drive in my father's Mk2 Jag - a superb car when it worked.
Cutting a very long story short, what should have been about a 7hr drive was already beyond that as we went through Pontarlier - which practically speaking you can't any more. It is /was a lovely small town which has succumbed to by-passes and the like.
As we climbed the hill the other side of the town, through the trees and up the pass, the Jag slipped and slid around, despite having winter tyres on ( I don't suppose many people in the UK even know what these are...)
Eventually we could go no further - stuck half way up a hill we had charged 3 or 4 times.
The snow fell.
We wondered what to do.
And then from behind came the unmistakable noise of a VW Beetle.
It put-putted past us, then pulled in.
Fortunately, the chap inside could understand what the problem was, without my mother's rather eccentric explanation. I seem to remember beetroot was mentioned...
Without further ado, a chain was removed from the VW's boot, attached to the Jag and we were pulled safely to the next town, where the Beetle was going anyway.
Despite being the middle of the night by now, a set of chains was purchased somehow - or maybe they were just borrowed for the duration.
These were fitted and the Jag was able to proceed on it's own.
As we clunked along the road, my father sighed.
" I can't imagine how this car is ever going to live down having to be towed by a Beetle..."
It never did.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Victory and austerity.
I know my reader doesn't like it when I get political, but a comment on Iain Dale's blog today led me to this . ( see bald figures below)
I have long held this is the sort of territory we will be in, in particular that the LibDems will be well down from where they are. I think ID is entirely wrong about them.
Even in Scotland Labour will only be voted for by the tied client estate they have created. In the same way that Heath Conservatives were neither one thing nor the other, Blair NuLabourites were neither fish nor fowl.
I don't in any way take from the magnificent chicanery and political nous which won Blair 3 elections - that's what politics is about, unfortunately. But we are seeing a return to core values by Labour in a desperate attempt to stave off defeat. The Tories tried the same thing in 1997 and 2001 and learnt a very harsh lesson.
You need a broad church to govern any country nowadays - even Iran, which looks to be going to go pop in the not too distant future.
But, as the American cousins say, here's the thing.
People want a quiet life with better things for themselves and their children. Blair promised it and made huge numbers think he could give them " the third way". That's bollocks. Actually, there's only one way.Whenever parties move from that agenda, and start thinking they should tell us what to do,they get eventually get thwacked.
It's a pity we had to have Brown destroying UK Plc to prove it.
PS
Whilst in Ireland recently, a roving Church of Ireland priest asked me if I thought the Tories would win. I replied that I was sure they would.
" What a pity" he said. " Thousands will be worse off."
" That hasn't happened in Ireland, when you returned to common sense in your recent budget?"
" Er... yes."
In Ireland, of course, it was all the EU money that made the "Celtic Tiger", and that money is now going to Eastern Europe.
The EU made promises to the Irish Electorate to get them to change their vote about Lisbon, but it will make no difference. Ireland, as my friends there insist, is bust for a generation.
And Labour has stolen our rights, our money, our pensions, our freedom and will pay the price.
PPS
David Blackburn in the Speccie reports James Purnell like this :
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The third way learned the lessons of Labour's mistakes in the 70s and 80s. But it elevated avoiding mistakes to an ideology. It wasn't confident enough where it was right, or sceptical enough where it was wrong.’
Conservatives
431
+217
Labour
152
-192
Liberal Democrats
30
-33
Scottish National Party
11
+5
Plaid Cymru
5
+3
Others
3
I have long held this is the sort of territory we will be in, in particular that the LibDems will be well down from where they are. I think ID is entirely wrong about them.
Even in Scotland Labour will only be voted for by the tied client estate they have created. In the same way that Heath Conservatives were neither one thing nor the other, Blair NuLabourites were neither fish nor fowl.
I don't in any way take from the magnificent chicanery and political nous which won Blair 3 elections - that's what politics is about, unfortunately. But we are seeing a return to core values by Labour in a desperate attempt to stave off defeat. The Tories tried the same thing in 1997 and 2001 and learnt a very harsh lesson.
You need a broad church to govern any country nowadays - even Iran, which looks to be going to go pop in the not too distant future.
But, as the American cousins say, here's the thing.
People want a quiet life with better things for themselves and their children. Blair promised it and made huge numbers think he could give them " the third way". That's bollocks. Actually, there's only one way.Whenever parties move from that agenda, and start thinking they should tell us what to do,they get eventually get thwacked.
It's a pity we had to have Brown destroying UK Plc to prove it.
PS
Whilst in Ireland recently, a roving Church of Ireland priest asked me if I thought the Tories would win. I replied that I was sure they would.
" What a pity" he said. " Thousands will be worse off."
" That hasn't happened in Ireland, when you returned to common sense in your recent budget?"
" Er... yes."
In Ireland, of course, it was all the EU money that made the "Celtic Tiger", and that money is now going to Eastern Europe.
The EU made promises to the Irish Electorate to get them to change their vote about Lisbon, but it will make no difference. Ireland, as my friends there insist, is bust for a generation.
And Labour has stolen our rights, our money, our pensions, our freedom and will pay the price.
PPS
David Blackburn in the Speccie reports James Purnell like this :
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The third way learned the lessons of Labour's mistakes in the 70s and 80s. But it elevated avoiding mistakes to an ideology. It wasn't confident enough where it was right, or sceptical enough where it was wrong.’
Conservatives
431
+217
Labour
152
-192
Liberal Democrats
30
-33
Scottish National Party
11
+5
Plaid Cymru
5
+3
Others
3
Friday, January 08, 2010
Cooks
A statement by Sir Stuart Rose of Marks & Spencer:
“There is no doubt about it, we have been bested by Waitrose. It’s not a secret.” M&S said UK food sales, based on stores open at least a year, rose 0.4 per cent in the 13 weeks to December 26. That compares with like-for-like sales growth of 9 per cent at Waitrose. ( See Chris Dillow)
Mrs. Lear opined sagely about the supermarket results just out.
" Marks and Sparks are not for cooks, they are for anyone,single people and pensioners. Waitrose is doing well because real cooks go there."
And what about Sainsburys doing so well recently?
" That's for lesser cooks"
“There is no doubt about it, we have been bested by Waitrose. It’s not a secret.” M&S said UK food sales, based on stores open at least a year, rose 0.4 per cent in the 13 weeks to December 26. That compares with like-for-like sales growth of 9 per cent at Waitrose. ( See Chris Dillow)
Mrs. Lear opined sagely about the supermarket results just out.
" Marks and Sparks are not for cooks, they are for anyone,single people and pensioners. Waitrose is doing well because real cooks go there."
And what about Sainsburys doing so well recently?
" That's for lesser cooks"
Moving from "Pissed off" to "Let's get the bastards"
We're all pretty chill up here and I've just looked at an aerial map that shows the whole of the UK covered in white stuff.
My cockles were cheered, though, by this post from the nowmarriedfragrantanddelightful Winchester Whisperer which covers the national stereotypes amazingly well ( dontcha just love 'em?) especially the Scottish one.
The two missing of course are the Welsh and the Irish. I suppose the Irish would be " You'll have a cup of tea?" rising to " Have a piece of cake" and in extremis " I'll have a Guinness." whilst the Welsh would be too busy singing to notice.
It does rather beg the question, what is the best way to deal with terror? Do you ignore it and hope it happens to someone else, or do you go in so hard that it doesn't happen again for a generation. What you don't do, in my view, is have years long campaigns that just make more people against you. Machiavelli of course had this right nearly 500 years ago, saying The Prince must be utterly ruthless ( I never understand why in movies the hero is always left to fight another day. Shoot him/her dead first and then see how much trouble he/she causes. I suppose if you are getting $15million you pretty much have to be standing at the end of the film).
He also said The Prince should be magnanimous in victory - but only once all the opponents were dead. Before my erudite reader expostulates, this is all very paraphrased.
You may recall Edie Falco, who was excellent as Tony Soprano's long-suffering wife in The Sopranos. She is now staring in Nurse Jackie on BBC2 at 10pm - and I'm hooked. Apart from some excellent performances, the story lines are telling, and raise lots of issues which it would do us well to think about - and frequently make me laugh.
Try it.
My cockles were cheered, though, by this post from the nowmarriedfragrantanddelightful Winchester Whisperer which covers the national stereotypes amazingly well ( dontcha just love 'em?) especially the Scottish one.
The two missing of course are the Welsh and the Irish. I suppose the Irish would be " You'll have a cup of tea?" rising to " Have a piece of cake" and in extremis " I'll have a Guinness." whilst the Welsh would be too busy singing to notice.
It does rather beg the question, what is the best way to deal with terror? Do you ignore it and hope it happens to someone else, or do you go in so hard that it doesn't happen again for a generation. What you don't do, in my view, is have years long campaigns that just make more people against you. Machiavelli of course had this right nearly 500 years ago, saying The Prince must be utterly ruthless ( I never understand why in movies the hero is always left to fight another day. Shoot him/her dead first and then see how much trouble he/she causes. I suppose if you are getting $15million you pretty much have to be standing at the end of the film).
He also said The Prince should be magnanimous in victory - but only once all the opponents were dead. Before my erudite reader expostulates, this is all very paraphrased.
You may recall Edie Falco, who was excellent as Tony Soprano's long-suffering wife in The Sopranos. She is now staring in Nurse Jackie on BBC2 at 10pm - and I'm hooked. Apart from some excellent performances, the story lines are telling, and raise lots of issues which it would do us well to think about - and frequently make me laugh.
Try it.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
An immovable object...
I had a most interesting chat with someone I regard as a superior investor yesterday, who is also omniscient as regards football investment.
He described 2009 as his annus horibilis, with every one of his major ( non-stock market) investments showing a loss ( and in some cases needing propped up with cash)
He made a bit on the bounce, but overall he estimates he is about 35% down in total asset value over the year - and he regards that as not bad going.
But his major preoccupation has been with football teams. The sport is a busted flush in this country, with the top Scottish Premier League teams collectively owing well over £100 million, all making losses, and no real prospect of salvation. Even Rangers and Celtic are now looking as if they will become also-rans as the recession bites, what with Setanta going bust and so on.
He tells the story of the very rich American family who thought they would like to buy Rangers - a mere pound or two would do it and HBOS would be delighted to get their money back. There would be almost automatic access to Europe, something that would not be guaranteed with any of the of the English teams ( pace Chelsea and Man U, and they ain't for sale even at £1billion.)
So a conference call was arranged.
Now it so happens that there has been a book written about the rescue of Celtic by Fergus McCann, and the Americans had read it, to get the feel of Scottish football.
McCann, of course, is a very canny Scot who made pots of dosh out of the deal - and found a wife, too.
So the call started with the Americans saying that a new Chief Executive and Chairman would be needed, and they knew of just the chap.
There was a pause.
" Who?" asked the Scottish side.
" Waall we think this here guy Fergus McCann is a real sharp cookie, and we would want him for Chairman."
There was a deadly hush.
It was pointed out that he was a Roman Catholic, and Rangers were Blue Noses i.e. Protestants.
" Waal we figure if a black man can be President of these here United States, then a Catholic can be Chairman of Rangers."
As Jesus once said, it is easier for a rich man to pass through the eye of a needle...
He described 2009 as his annus horibilis, with every one of his major ( non-stock market) investments showing a loss ( and in some cases needing propped up with cash)
He made a bit on the bounce, but overall he estimates he is about 35% down in total asset value over the year - and he regards that as not bad going.
But his major preoccupation has been with football teams. The sport is a busted flush in this country, with the top Scottish Premier League teams collectively owing well over £100 million, all making losses, and no real prospect of salvation. Even Rangers and Celtic are now looking as if they will become also-rans as the recession bites, what with Setanta going bust and so on.
He tells the story of the very rich American family who thought they would like to buy Rangers - a mere pound or two would do it and HBOS would be delighted to get their money back. There would be almost automatic access to Europe, something that would not be guaranteed with any of the of the English teams ( pace Chelsea and Man U, and they ain't for sale even at £1billion.)
So a conference call was arranged.
Now it so happens that there has been a book written about the rescue of Celtic by Fergus McCann, and the Americans had read it, to get the feel of Scottish football.
McCann, of course, is a very canny Scot who made pots of dosh out of the deal - and found a wife, too.
So the call started with the Americans saying that a new Chief Executive and Chairman would be needed, and they knew of just the chap.
There was a pause.
" Who?" asked the Scottish side.
" Waall we think this here guy Fergus McCann is a real sharp cookie, and we would want him for Chairman."
There was a deadly hush.
It was pointed out that he was a Roman Catholic, and Rangers were Blue Noses i.e. Protestants.
" Waal we figure if a black man can be President of these here United States, then a Catholic can be Chairman of Rangers."
As Jesus once said, it is easier for a rich man to pass through the eye of a needle...
Sunday, January 03, 2010
In Ireland for New Year
As mentioned previously, the New Mrs. Rock God and her husband, Mr. Rock God, took us along on their honeymoon to see Sharon Shannon in Kilkenny.
We were originally staying in Inistioge by the River Nore, but there was so much rain we had to decamp to Kilkenny.
The Irish, of course, kill you with kindness, and I'm sure my weight will have gone up again despite bracing walks. The other slightly disconcerting thing is the number of cups of tea that have to be consumed, a la Mrs. Doyle in Father Ted.." AH ye will ye will ye will."
Three little stories.
Some friends of the Earl of Kilkenny were having dinner in Dublin when they were asked to move as Bono from U2 was coming in with a guest. The maitre d' offered them free wine, so quite sensibly they moved.
A while later, whilst Bono and his guest were eating, the friend ( male variety) went to the loo, and shortly thereafter Bono's guest followed him.
They fell to talking and it was pointed out that they had had to move to accommodate yer man. Would the guest be very kind and get Bono's autograph for his daughter?
The guest said most certainly, and would she also like his signature.
" No no, just Bono's will be fine"
The deed was done and as the couple were leaving, it was discovered their bill had been paid by Bono's guest. The male member of the party went across to thank the guest, and was again asked if his daughter would like an autograph. Feeling it would be ungracious to refuse, this was accepted.
It was Bruce Sprinsteen.
The Earl himself is known for his entrepreneurial skills, and many many years ago had decided he fancied a tour through France. Not having any money, he hit on the idea of taking the housekeepers of priests to Lourdes, which, in between times, would enable him to travel about. It was in the days of Danair, and he was able to fill several planes for some years until his wanderlust was gone. Of course, he had no money to pay a deposit, so the arrangement was made that the aircraft would land in Dublin, but would not take off until the charter costs were paid - in cash. The housekeepers of course had access to this, and as each flight took off they handed over the cost to the captain, who, on landing in Lourdes, gave the Earl the difference.
It was on one of these flights that a particularly formidable housekeeper kept up a running commentary all the way, and for the next two days as various shrines, services and so on were visited and undertaken.
As the party got back onto the flight, one of the milder ladies turned to the Earl, and said,
" Sure she's a lovely lady, but she wouldn't give the last word to God Almighty himself!"
We were originally staying in Inistioge by the River Nore, but there was so much rain we had to decamp to Kilkenny.
The Irish, of course, kill you with kindness, and I'm sure my weight will have gone up again despite bracing walks. The other slightly disconcerting thing is the number of cups of tea that have to be consumed, a la Mrs. Doyle in Father Ted.." AH ye will ye will ye will."
Three little stories.
Some friends of the Earl of Kilkenny were having dinner in Dublin when they were asked to move as Bono from U2 was coming in with a guest. The maitre d' offered them free wine, so quite sensibly they moved.
A while later, whilst Bono and his guest were eating, the friend ( male variety) went to the loo, and shortly thereafter Bono's guest followed him.
They fell to talking and it was pointed out that they had had to move to accommodate yer man. Would the guest be very kind and get Bono's autograph for his daughter?
The guest said most certainly, and would she also like his signature.
" No no, just Bono's will be fine"
The deed was done and as the couple were leaving, it was discovered their bill had been paid by Bono's guest. The male member of the party went across to thank the guest, and was again asked if his daughter would like an autograph. Feeling it would be ungracious to refuse, this was accepted.
It was Bruce Sprinsteen.
The Earl himself is known for his entrepreneurial skills, and many many years ago had decided he fancied a tour through France. Not having any money, he hit on the idea of taking the housekeepers of priests to Lourdes, which, in between times, would enable him to travel about. It was in the days of Danair, and he was able to fill several planes for some years until his wanderlust was gone. Of course, he had no money to pay a deposit, so the arrangement was made that the aircraft would land in Dublin, but would not take off until the charter costs were paid - in cash. The housekeepers of course had access to this, and as each flight took off they handed over the cost to the captain, who, on landing in Lourdes, gave the Earl the difference.
It was on one of these flights that a particularly formidable housekeeper kept up a running commentary all the way, and for the next two days as various shrines, services and so on were visited and undertaken.
As the party got back onto the flight, one of the milder ladies turned to the Earl, and said,
" Sure she's a lovely lady, but she wouldn't give the last word to God Almighty himself!"
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Not so hot
"Now, undeniably, there is climate change. But we call it spring, summer, fall and winter. As for global warming and cooling, that has been going on for millennia. Not so long ago, we exited what is known as the “little ice age.” Over the 20th century, the official rise in global temperature was seven-tenths of one degree Celsius. "
Patrick J. Buchanan on Takimag.com
Patrick J. Buchanan on Takimag.com
Going to get better?
I know my reader is not keen on any political stuff here, but there is suddenly a different feeling running through the country.
I have no idea when it started, but there is beginning to be a "fizz" of expectation and hope which has been sadly lacking for a long time.
I agree it may just be the hopes for a New Year - but there was no such feeling this time last year.
I'm not even sure it is the prospect of a Tory Government - it may simply be the near certainty of Gordon Brown NOT being around.
But a buzz and an excitement there is, and it is starting to make a difference to people's planning and forward thinking.
It may be that the recession has finally run it's course, and the next quarter will at worst be flat or perhaps marginally ahead.
Or it may be the growing expectation, fostered by all the interested parties, that house prices will be higher in 2012 than they are now ( not too difficult in my view, even if there is a further dip)
Or it may simply be that people can only last so long feeling fed up and depressed and eventually they will break out and make themselves a new life.
I had an interesting conversation over the Festive Season with a man whose son has been swithering between two women - one he is living with and one who he lives with intermittently. Both sides appeared to know all about the other.
Some sort of final decision seems to have been reached and he is now much happier - but it's taken him more than a year to get there, and lots of unhappiness as far as he is concerned.
But hey - that's life. Bad things happen to good people - and vice versa.
I have no idea when it started, but there is beginning to be a "fizz" of expectation and hope which has been sadly lacking for a long time.
I agree it may just be the hopes for a New Year - but there was no such feeling this time last year.
I'm not even sure it is the prospect of a Tory Government - it may simply be the near certainty of Gordon Brown NOT being around.
But a buzz and an excitement there is, and it is starting to make a difference to people's planning and forward thinking.
It may be that the recession has finally run it's course, and the next quarter will at worst be flat or perhaps marginally ahead.
Or it may be the growing expectation, fostered by all the interested parties, that house prices will be higher in 2012 than they are now ( not too difficult in my view, even if there is a further dip)
Or it may simply be that people can only last so long feeling fed up and depressed and eventually they will break out and make themselves a new life.
I had an interesting conversation over the Festive Season with a man whose son has been swithering between two women - one he is living with and one who he lives with intermittently. Both sides appeared to know all about the other.
Some sort of final decision seems to have been reached and he is now much happier - but it's taken him more than a year to get there, and lots of unhappiness as far as he is concerned.
But hey - that's life. Bad things happen to good people - and vice versa.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Saviour
Well we had a really good Christmas with fillet of beef rather than turkey which everyone agreed was a much better idea. Although there was Christmas Pudding ( and though I say it myself the flaming brandy , driving away the devils and evil spirits,was a triumph) the chocolate pud was most appreciated.
The dog got a whole stocking for himself including chews and doggy choc drops, but also a chocolate flavoured rope which he has taken to his bed for safe keeping.
We are still pretty tied up with snow, but the temperature is slowly rising having got as low as minus 8 and enabling me to walk across the park pond to the island in the middle. If I can do it so can the foxes, and Hessilhead had removed most of the ducks and the swans.
Being a film person, Christmas and New Year is always a good time for me as the TV has many good films with several "network premieres" on the go.
I had seen it before but I watched 'The Apostle" this morning and was struck again by the extraordinary performance Bob Duvall gave. Unsurprisingly, he was nominated for Best Actor,but amazingly (meaning there was an even better performance) didn't win. And why? Because Jack Nicholson gave a performace in " As Good as it Gets" which has probably never been bettered.
The final scenes, when Duvall is about to be arrested, are so powerful and spine-tingling that I would defy anyone not to be moved.
There is one part when Duvall picks up a baby, and shows the congregation its tiny hand.
"See this baby's hand? What father would drive a nail right here through it and then NAIL both hands and FEET to a board until his child died.? Would any father have love enough for the world to do that?I couldn't I don't have enough love.
But God.. God he had enough love. Hallelujah!"
And he did.
The dog got a whole stocking for himself including chews and doggy choc drops, but also a chocolate flavoured rope which he has taken to his bed for safe keeping.
We are still pretty tied up with snow, but the temperature is slowly rising having got as low as minus 8 and enabling me to walk across the park pond to the island in the middle. If I can do it so can the foxes, and Hessilhead had removed most of the ducks and the swans.
Being a film person, Christmas and New Year is always a good time for me as the TV has many good films with several "network premieres" on the go.
I had seen it before but I watched 'The Apostle" this morning and was struck again by the extraordinary performance Bob Duvall gave. Unsurprisingly, he was nominated for Best Actor,but amazingly (meaning there was an even better performance) didn't win. And why? Because Jack Nicholson gave a performace in " As Good as it Gets" which has probably never been bettered.
The final scenes, when Duvall is about to be arrested, are so powerful and spine-tingling that I would defy anyone not to be moved.
There is one part when Duvall picks up a baby, and shows the congregation its tiny hand.
"See this baby's hand? What father would drive a nail right here through it and then NAIL both hands and FEET to a board until his child died.? Would any father have love enough for the world to do that?I couldn't I don't have enough love.
But God.. God he had enough love. Hallelujah!"
And he did.
Monday, December 21, 2009
A Very Happy Day..
Middle Ms. Lear is getting married today.
She always said she would never marry, but I guess things change. Youngest Ms.Lear, when told, immediately asked if it was just a tax dodge. Eldest Ms. Lear, known for her straight-talking, opined it was a jolly good idea to keep it secret as it would prevent lots of dreadful people turning up.
It has been a huge secret as she and her young man ( known in the family as Rock God) are decidedly anti "fuss" of any sort, and there will be a total of 10 people at the wedding.
This includes Mrs. Lear and myself, our new in laws, a bridesmaid, a best man and the minister and his wife who just happens to be my future son-in-law's uncle.
The ceremony is taking place at No1.Devonshire Gardens, where they had their first date several years ago,with dinner afterwards.
Almost the best part is it is costing me nothing as all blandishments have been refused. As they are buying a house, I suspect the cost will actually be enormous...
The other slightly wonderful thing is we are all going to Ireland for New Year to stay with the Earl of Kilkenny. You may recall no such person exists, but if he did, he would certainly be like my friend Jimmy, who was christened as the Earl by me more than 40 years ago.
So I am going on my daughter's honeymoon.
I can't think of a nicer compliment.
PS.
I should have said the reason we are all going to Ireland is because the Rock God has been given tickets to see one of his bands in Kilkenny.
It's Sharon Shannon's Big Band Tour.
She always said she would never marry, but I guess things change. Youngest Ms.Lear, when told, immediately asked if it was just a tax dodge. Eldest Ms. Lear, known for her straight-talking, opined it was a jolly good idea to keep it secret as it would prevent lots of dreadful people turning up.
It has been a huge secret as she and her young man ( known in the family as Rock God) are decidedly anti "fuss" of any sort, and there will be a total of 10 people at the wedding.
This includes Mrs. Lear and myself, our new in laws, a bridesmaid, a best man and the minister and his wife who just happens to be my future son-in-law's uncle.
The ceremony is taking place at No1.Devonshire Gardens, where they had their first date several years ago,with dinner afterwards.
Almost the best part is it is costing me nothing as all blandishments have been refused. As they are buying a house, I suspect the cost will actually be enormous...
The other slightly wonderful thing is we are all going to Ireland for New Year to stay with the Earl of Kilkenny. You may recall no such person exists, but if he did, he would certainly be like my friend Jimmy, who was christened as the Earl by me more than 40 years ago.
So I am going on my daughter's honeymoon.
I can't think of a nicer compliment.
PS.
I should have said the reason we are all going to Ireland is because the Rock God has been given tickets to see one of his bands in Kilkenny.
It's Sharon Shannon's Big Band Tour.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A cautionary tale...
Things have been pretty busy for the last week. I have been on two secret missions ( well, not that secret) and spent a lot of time in a bunker starting at two computer screens- and sometimes three.
But all in all its been quite amusing in its own way - and I've picked up a few more spare rail tickets en route.
Now it's Christmas and a time of good will to all men and women.
So I will share the following with you.
A smelly dirty old lady tramp stopped a sort of yummy mummy and asked for some money to buy food.
"Ha! "says the Yummy. " I bet you would just take the cash and buy drink!"
" Never,"says the tramp. " I stopped drinking 20 years ago. It was killing me."
" Well in that case you would probably buy cigarettes."
"Not at all. I stopped more than 10 years ago"
" Well, I suppose you might buy some new clothes."
" What do I want new clothes for? I stopped going into shops years ago."
"Right" says the Yummy. " I can see you need food, so I want you to come to my house for dinner tonight.""
"Are you mad? What will your husband think, you bringing home a smelly old tramp?"
" I want him to see what happens to a woman who stops drinking smoking and shopping..."
But all in all its been quite amusing in its own way - and I've picked up a few more spare rail tickets en route.
Now it's Christmas and a time of good will to all men and women.
So I will share the following with you.
A smelly dirty old lady tramp stopped a sort of yummy mummy and asked for some money to buy food.
"Ha! "says the Yummy. " I bet you would just take the cash and buy drink!"
" Never,"says the tramp. " I stopped drinking 20 years ago. It was killing me."
" Well in that case you would probably buy cigarettes."
"Not at all. I stopped more than 10 years ago"
" Well, I suppose you might buy some new clothes."
" What do I want new clothes for? I stopped going into shops years ago."
"Right" says the Yummy. " I can see you need food, so I want you to come to my house for dinner tonight.""
"Are you mad? What will your husband think, you bringing home a smelly old tramp?"
" I want him to see what happens to a woman who stops drinking smoking and shopping..."
Monday, December 07, 2009
If only...
I don't know if the Royal Bank of Scotland is advertising as heavily down south as it is up here in Scotland, but everywhere you look there are billboards, newspaper ads, TV ads, the lot, telling us how good RBS is at looking after its customers.
The ad I particularly like ( which comes in various sizes) is of a vet " who has been an RBS customer since age 6" with a tag line that says " we are open on Saturdays because your hands are full during the week"
Now being a vet, his hand could be up the backside of a cow, but no - just fitting in the palm of his hand is the sweetest little cocker spaniel puppy you have ever seen.
I'm sure you get lots of questionnaires to fill in, all trying to get your " feelings" towards various companies, but this is the first ad I've ever seen for a bank that made me a) smile b) go "awwww" and c) not want to shoot the lot of them.
So I suppose that's progress of a sort.
Their other ad, which had the directly opposite effect - i.e. a) I growled b) ground my teeth and c) wanted to shoot the lot of them - is the one with the school children all in white shirts looking happy.
The words are " RBS has taught over 400,000 children how to manage their finances through their xyz programme."
If only RBS had taught it's top 4 how to manage their finances we might not all be up a certain creek.
Without the proverbial.
The ad I particularly like ( which comes in various sizes) is of a vet " who has been an RBS customer since age 6" with a tag line that says " we are open on Saturdays because your hands are full during the week"
Now being a vet, his hand could be up the backside of a cow, but no - just fitting in the palm of his hand is the sweetest little cocker spaniel puppy you have ever seen.
I'm sure you get lots of questionnaires to fill in, all trying to get your " feelings" towards various companies, but this is the first ad I've ever seen for a bank that made me a) smile b) go "awwww" and c) not want to shoot the lot of them.
So I suppose that's progress of a sort.
Their other ad, which had the directly opposite effect - i.e. a) I growled b) ground my teeth and c) wanted to shoot the lot of them - is the one with the school children all in white shirts looking happy.
The words are " RBS has taught over 400,000 children how to manage their finances through their xyz programme."
If only RBS had taught it's top 4 how to manage their finances we might not all be up a certain creek.
Without the proverbial.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
"Garden fails assessment" - shock horror!
I'm sure, dear reader, you are aware of Mrs. Lear's search for a new vocation and her herculean efforts at the Scottish Agricultural College at Auchencruive near Ayr.
Having magnificently come second in her first year to a horrible swot, she is approaching the end of the first term of her second year in fine shape - if a trifle over concerned by the assessments and course papers that she has to produce pretty much on a weekly basis.
This hasn't stopped her sleeping well, though, and perchance to dream.
You will probably also be aware we had some serious storms and winds over the last couple of weeks, so much so that the wooden fence between Castle Lear and our next door neighbour blew down. Mrs. L, eco-countryside warrior that she now is, cut the fence in half ( it's all that tree chopping down you know), and used it sideways to stop the dog escaping into the next garden.
This is a perfect solution until such time as the new fence bits arrive.
Of course, it does mean it's one more thing that her brain has mixed in with her course.
So it wasn't entirely a surprise when she informed me the other morning at breakfast that she was very upset that the garden had failed it's assessment.
As she hadn't drunk her coffee by that time, I put the remark down to mere un-wakefulness, as opposed to idiocy or Alzheimer's, but she went on.
" Yes, " she said, " It's too bad! They failed it because the fence had blown down and hasn't been replaced."
" Who failed it?"
" The Agricultural College"
" Do you mean they check up on your garden, to see if you are a fit and proper person?"
There was a slight pause as she sipped the coffee.
" Er I think I've got a bit confused. I must have dreamt it. They failed the entire class yesterday as none of us could understand the questions"
So that's all right then.
The Garden retains it's 100% pass rate.
Having magnificently come second in her first year to a horrible swot, she is approaching the end of the first term of her second year in fine shape - if a trifle over concerned by the assessments and course papers that she has to produce pretty much on a weekly basis.
This hasn't stopped her sleeping well, though, and perchance to dream.
You will probably also be aware we had some serious storms and winds over the last couple of weeks, so much so that the wooden fence between Castle Lear and our next door neighbour blew down. Mrs. L, eco-countryside warrior that she now is, cut the fence in half ( it's all that tree chopping down you know), and used it sideways to stop the dog escaping into the next garden.
This is a perfect solution until such time as the new fence bits arrive.
Of course, it does mean it's one more thing that her brain has mixed in with her course.
So it wasn't entirely a surprise when she informed me the other morning at breakfast that she was very upset that the garden had failed it's assessment.
As she hadn't drunk her coffee by that time, I put the remark down to mere un-wakefulness, as opposed to idiocy or Alzheimer's, but she went on.
" Yes, " she said, " It's too bad! They failed it because the fence had blown down and hasn't been replaced."
" Who failed it?"
" The Agricultural College"
" Do you mean they check up on your garden, to see if you are a fit and proper person?"
There was a slight pause as she sipped the coffee.
" Er I think I've got a bit confused. I must have dreamt it. They failed the entire class yesterday as none of us could understand the questions"
So that's all right then.
The Garden retains it's 100% pass rate.
Friday, December 04, 2009
OAP Viking Strippers?
I was walking along the road this afternoon when I was stopped in my tracks by the contents of a car.
It held 3 zimmer frames - but also three Viking helmets, complete with horns and fur.
I can only assume it is the OAP stripper brigade at work...
It held 3 zimmer frames - but also three Viking helmets, complete with horns and fur.
I can only assume it is the OAP stripper brigade at work...
US Treasury Profits...
Little snippet on the wires - the USTreasury's TARP programme is already getting back the cash it lent various banks ( in full) and they have embarked on selling the warrants they received from the likes of JPMorgan, Capital One, CITI and so on. They have so far made a profit of about $3 billion from this, and, of course, earned 11% or so on the moeny they lent.
And they aren't stuck with any of the toxic loans - they remain firmly with the US Banks.
Compare this to our own situation, where the Treasury has had no money back, hasn't made a profit ( in theory there might be SOME but those dang prices keep going up and down), and has had to shoulder about £850MILLION of toxis debt and dodgey loans.
Don't quite see that as saving the world....
And they aren't stuck with any of the toxic loans - they remain firmly with the US Banks.
Compare this to our own situation, where the Treasury has had no money back, hasn't made a profit ( in theory there might be SOME but those dang prices keep going up and down), and has had to shoulder about £850MILLION of toxis debt and dodgey loans.
Don't quite see that as saving the world....
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Romania's very own John Prescott ( sort of..)
The last two days have been spent tramping all over the hills, and making sure all our plans are actually happening. The last job today was to go to look at an orchard as far away from Mosna as it is possible to be without being in the next Mayor's jurisdiction.
There are about 19 owners in total, and ( because we have to buy ALL a seller's land so they can get the extra pension from the government) we already own 2 bits of it. Some of the orchard was completely derelict and other parts were well maintained, and the access is mostly overgrown to keep the uninitiated out. Many of the trees still had apples that noone had bothered to collect, but many more of them were dead with huge balls of mistletoe having strangled them to death. I can feel an EU project coming on...
As we made our way back we saw the Mayor's car at the Forrest Man's house, and dropped in to say hello. The TV was on and there was huge excitement. It was a news programme, and they were about to show the film of Basescu hitting a small boy at a 2004 rally. We all watched fascinated as he punched the boy in the face. It has apparently been shown endlessly, which is understandable. The difference with our own JP ( as Tony Blair said at the time, Hey, that's John) is that the boy had only asked for his autograph.
The report went on to say that the boy, now older and living in Italy, had gone into hiding as he had had threatening calls - including death threats. Basescu at first denied it happened, then said it was a doctored video, and his latest is that he doesn't remember the incident. As Alin would say, we shall see.
As an aside, Basescu was a ship's captain, and was recently asked what he would do if he lost the election. When he replied that he would probably return to being a ship's captain, he was gently reminded that as Minister of Transport, he had completely sold off the Romanian Merchant fleet. This was very much akin to our own Gordon Brown's brilliant decision to dispose of most our gold.
We ended up having meatball tarragon soup and sarmale with them, whilst the TV endlessly debated the pros and cons of the incident. In the UK nowadays I suspect such an incident would immediately lead to prosecution and imprisonment, but this is Romania. As many people will now NOT vote for him as those who were not going to vote for him WILL.
We will see.
PS
I just heard a weather report on the BBC. Aparently there is flooding in Puddletown....
There are about 19 owners in total, and ( because we have to buy ALL a seller's land so they can get the extra pension from the government) we already own 2 bits of it. Some of the orchard was completely derelict and other parts were well maintained, and the access is mostly overgrown to keep the uninitiated out. Many of the trees still had apples that noone had bothered to collect, but many more of them were dead with huge balls of mistletoe having strangled them to death. I can feel an EU project coming on...
As we made our way back we saw the Mayor's car at the Forrest Man's house, and dropped in to say hello. The TV was on and there was huge excitement. It was a news programme, and they were about to show the film of Basescu hitting a small boy at a 2004 rally. We all watched fascinated as he punched the boy in the face. It has apparently been shown endlessly, which is understandable. The difference with our own JP ( as Tony Blair said at the time, Hey, that's John) is that the boy had only asked for his autograph.
The report went on to say that the boy, now older and living in Italy, had gone into hiding as he had had threatening calls - including death threats. Basescu at first denied it happened, then said it was a doctored video, and his latest is that he doesn't remember the incident. As Alin would say, we shall see.
As an aside, Basescu was a ship's captain, and was recently asked what he would do if he lost the election. When he replied that he would probably return to being a ship's captain, he was gently reminded that as Minister of Transport, he had completely sold off the Romanian Merchant fleet. This was very much akin to our own Gordon Brown's brilliant decision to dispose of most our gold.
We ended up having meatball tarragon soup and sarmale with them, whilst the TV endlessly debated the pros and cons of the incident. In the UK nowadays I suspect such an incident would immediately lead to prosecution and imprisonment, but this is Romania. As many people will now NOT vote for him as those who were not going to vote for him WILL.
We will see.
PS
I just heard a weather report on the BBC. Aparently there is flooding in Puddletown....
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Back to work
With my friend having left, it is back to the grindstone today with a vengeance.
Having had the long drive to and from Cluj last night we filled up with petrol. There, in the hut that serves as an office, amidst the various maps and papers, was the very latest monthly from JAMIE OLIVER - in Romanian, teaching them how to cook. I can't help but think his recipes don't start with.. " Take a pig..." or " take 20 litres of neat alcohol." I daresay someone must be buying it.
The second round of the Presidential elections takes place on 6th December. Today, in an effort to dislodge Basescu, the Liberal party ( nominally his supporters ) the PSD, the PC, the "Transylvania for Hungarians" party and the " Kill all Hungarians" party formed a pact which, with a bit of luck, might get rid of him and deliver Geoana. There has been skullduggery at work. A large Geoana poster, set in 5 cm thick metal posts and in concrete was rammed and destroyed by a politically motivated vehicle from downtown Medias. At least that is the story. I suspect it may have been a drunk.
They do go a bit further than we do. In the petrol station you can get Geoana adverts which are actually the smelly things you hang in your car to make it smell nice.
I was particularly delighted to see the corn mill at work today. This dates back ( in part) to the early 1800s, and still takes in the corn cobs from the locals, grinds the corn and gives it back for a fee in time-honoured fashion. Here, the fee is usually a percentage of the amount milled. There was a most picturesque queue of worthy sons and daughters of the soil, along with their carts and horses, waiting to have their corn dealt with. It is mostly made into polenta, and is also mixed with wheat flour to make the bread go further.
Our first call was to Mosna Town Hall. We had asked Vasily, the map supremo, to extract names and addresses against field numbers.
There was no sign of him. One of the ladies told us that he had worked all night, fortified by copious draughts of tuica, and had had to be carried home at 7am when everyone came to work. The Mayor had granted him official leave to stay there until Monday...
Armed with our list ( the first names were clear and legible, the later ones very squiggly and a bit unsteady) we set off to check the fields themselves against the maps.
Always when we do this we are followed by a gaggle of old men and women, all of whom know every blade of grass and who it belongs to - except none of it corresponds with the maps or the property titles. It was a glorious day once more and we walked a total of about 12 kms checking and cross checking - the property titles also tell you who is to the North, South, East and West, so it is easy enough to check correctly, just time consuming. In the distance we could see Toaderico ploughing some of our fields. It was a treat to see a small patchwork of presently unused land being transferred into one large piece that will hopefully be productive. I had had some deep holes dug at various points in an area we are interested in, and we checked how they were coming on. All were more than 2 meters deep, and all still showing deep black earth even at the bottom. I told the diggers to stop - the land is more than good.
On our way back we came across the Mayor supervising the re-erection of the giant Geoana poster, and told him of our discoveries. His face broke into a broad grin.
"Ah, da. Forte Bine - terren fromose."
The land is good.
Having had the long drive to and from Cluj last night we filled up with petrol. There, in the hut that serves as an office, amidst the various maps and papers, was the very latest monthly from JAMIE OLIVER - in Romanian, teaching them how to cook. I can't help but think his recipes don't start with.. " Take a pig..." or " take 20 litres of neat alcohol." I daresay someone must be buying it.
The second round of the Presidential elections takes place on 6th December. Today, in an effort to dislodge Basescu, the Liberal party ( nominally his supporters ) the PSD, the PC, the "Transylvania for Hungarians" party and the " Kill all Hungarians" party formed a pact which, with a bit of luck, might get rid of him and deliver Geoana. There has been skullduggery at work. A large Geoana poster, set in 5 cm thick metal posts and in concrete was rammed and destroyed by a politically motivated vehicle from downtown Medias. At least that is the story. I suspect it may have been a drunk.
They do go a bit further than we do. In the petrol station you can get Geoana adverts which are actually the smelly things you hang in your car to make it smell nice.
I was particularly delighted to see the corn mill at work today. This dates back ( in part) to the early 1800s, and still takes in the corn cobs from the locals, grinds the corn and gives it back for a fee in time-honoured fashion. Here, the fee is usually a percentage of the amount milled. There was a most picturesque queue of worthy sons and daughters of the soil, along with their carts and horses, waiting to have their corn dealt with. It is mostly made into polenta, and is also mixed with wheat flour to make the bread go further.
Our first call was to Mosna Town Hall. We had asked Vasily, the map supremo, to extract names and addresses against field numbers.
There was no sign of him. One of the ladies told us that he had worked all night, fortified by copious draughts of tuica, and had had to be carried home at 7am when everyone came to work. The Mayor had granted him official leave to stay there until Monday...
Armed with our list ( the first names were clear and legible, the later ones very squiggly and a bit unsteady) we set off to check the fields themselves against the maps.
Always when we do this we are followed by a gaggle of old men and women, all of whom know every blade of grass and who it belongs to - except none of it corresponds with the maps or the property titles. It was a glorious day once more and we walked a total of about 12 kms checking and cross checking - the property titles also tell you who is to the North, South, East and West, so it is easy enough to check correctly, just time consuming. In the distance we could see Toaderico ploughing some of our fields. It was a treat to see a small patchwork of presently unused land being transferred into one large piece that will hopefully be productive. I had had some deep holes dug at various points in an area we are interested in, and we checked how they were coming on. All were more than 2 meters deep, and all still showing deep black earth even at the bottom. I told the diggers to stop - the land is more than good.
On our way back we came across the Mayor supervising the re-erection of the giant Geoana poster, and told him of our discoveries. His face broke into a broad grin.
"Ah, da. Forte Bine - terren fromose."
The land is good.
Elysian Interlude
I've had a friend out here for the last few days. As ever, he has been bowled over by the place ( to be fair the weather has been superb and Transylvania is showing herself at her very best).
He has tagged along with everything we have been doing but we have curtailed the days so that we have not started before 9 and lunch has been by 6 each day with free time from 8. I'm sure he thinks this is too long for comfort but is only about 70% of what we normally do.
He likens the culture to that of Ireland in the 50's and early 60's, or Portugal until more recently, with a very agrarian rural economy. In the villages the number of cars is minimal, and the locals produce all they need to live.
Of course, he has had to drink the tuica ( which he quite liked) and eat some things which at home he would never consider, but even these he was quite taken with. We tramped some fields to show him things and his superior brain produced some good thoughts which we will mull over and possibly incorporate into what we are doing.
We had paparnash every night - the sweet cheese doughnuts with jam and sour cream that are so tasty. As we ate in a different place every night, we had four different manufactures, and the decision was handed down that the best are now at the Binderbubi.
The highlight of the visit was our "lunch" at the Pension Liana in Nemsa ( Elena's) when we had kid stew. I had been told it was going to be a special surprise but I had no idea I would be providing the ingredients....
Incidentally, there is now a flight from Stansted to Sibiu, which is only just over an hour from Sighisoara. This is operated by Blue Air, and is thoroughly to be recommended. Not only do you get to choose your seat, at the moment you don't even have to pay for luggage.
And they have a frequent flyer discount programme too...
PS
Apparently, despite eating one goat , we still have 62. The only conclusion I can come to is that it is something to do with people paying us rent late, but I am assured that everyone is up to date and we are not, nor have we been , owed any goats.
Perhaps they are just coming in to get out of the sun....
He has tagged along with everything we have been doing but we have curtailed the days so that we have not started before 9 and lunch has been by 6 each day with free time from 8. I'm sure he thinks this is too long for comfort but is only about 70% of what we normally do.
He likens the culture to that of Ireland in the 50's and early 60's, or Portugal until more recently, with a very agrarian rural economy. In the villages the number of cars is minimal, and the locals produce all they need to live.
Of course, he has had to drink the tuica ( which he quite liked) and eat some things which at home he would never consider, but even these he was quite taken with. We tramped some fields to show him things and his superior brain produced some good thoughts which we will mull over and possibly incorporate into what we are doing.
We had paparnash every night - the sweet cheese doughnuts with jam and sour cream that are so tasty. As we ate in a different place every night, we had four different manufactures, and the decision was handed down that the best are now at the Binderbubi.
The highlight of the visit was our "lunch" at the Pension Liana in Nemsa ( Elena's) when we had kid stew. I had been told it was going to be a special surprise but I had no idea I would be providing the ingredients....
Incidentally, there is now a flight from Stansted to Sibiu, which is only just over an hour from Sighisoara. This is operated by Blue Air, and is thoroughly to be recommended. Not only do you get to choose your seat, at the moment you don't even have to pay for luggage.
And they have a frequent flyer discount programme too...
PS
Apparently, despite eating one goat , we still have 62. The only conclusion I can come to is that it is something to do with people paying us rent late, but I am assured that everyone is up to date and we are not, nor have we been , owed any goats.
Perhaps they are just coming in to get out of the sun....
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Walking the fields
Being out in the fields in the sunshine is one of the reasons I come to Romania, and yesterday was one of those days when we had to walk the fields in company and have fields pointed out to us and discuss what needed to be done to them. It was the most perfect day and I am now boasting a winter tan.
The day stared with Toaderico insisting we had some mulled wine against the cold ( it was about 17c in the sunshine) followed up with a ride to the further reaches of the empire sitting, emperor like, on a plank across the trailer.
Toaderico used to work in Germany but as he says he hated it. He made pots of money but was so so miserable he had to drink it all. Now he is back in the village of his birth ( Alma Vii) and happy as one of his pigs in the mud bath he calls his back yard.
We set off in search of a fabled lake, which Toaderico assured us he had used to visit when he was a child. We found it all right, but unfortunately the end had been dynamited to get the fish out by some shepherds years ago. Potentially it's a lovely spot, but, frankly,there is little of merit in rebuilding the end, because it is too far away from anything to enable a profit to be turned. But the ride on the tractor was huge fun, enlivened by Toaderico's 4-speaker mp3 player blasting out Romanian music. I would estimate it is at least 20 years old.
The walking started thereafter, and five hours later we got back to the tractor. The land we surveyed was more than good, and Toaderico's instructions in terms of ploughing, treating weeds and generally making ready for planting were all costed and agreed.
Nothing would do, of course, but that we should go to his mother's house for a drink and lunch ( by now it was 4:30 - bit early but still) where we fed the pigs and chickens with corn ( I'm almost sure it's mine but who knows) and ate a delicious dish which I could only describe as scrambled eggs with cheese and really thick very well cooked bacon. The only drawback was the two glasses of tuica I had to consume before I could get to the food. But the business was done and that was the major point.
In the meantime a herd of locusts had descended on the car, with people waving property titles at us and demanding we consider their land, particularly as it was especially good and productive, unlike their neighbour's which was rubbish. We have had to institute a policy that we pay the identical price everywhere, as otherwise it would be a spiral and create great ill will. As it is, people either accept or reject the price is it suits them, and we then have to do the hard work of registrating it ( as Alin would say ) and transferring title. In the event none of them wanted to accept the prices, but I have no doubt they will in time.
The day ended with dinner at the BinderBubi for 6 which worked out at GBP7 per head. Considering the wine, three courses, coffee and beers I though this more than cheap...
The day stared with Toaderico insisting we had some mulled wine against the cold ( it was about 17c in the sunshine) followed up with a ride to the further reaches of the empire sitting, emperor like, on a plank across the trailer.
Toaderico used to work in Germany but as he says he hated it. He made pots of money but was so so miserable he had to drink it all. Now he is back in the village of his birth ( Alma Vii) and happy as one of his pigs in the mud bath he calls his back yard.
We set off in search of a fabled lake, which Toaderico assured us he had used to visit when he was a child. We found it all right, but unfortunately the end had been dynamited to get the fish out by some shepherds years ago. Potentially it's a lovely spot, but, frankly,there is little of merit in rebuilding the end, because it is too far away from anything to enable a profit to be turned. But the ride on the tractor was huge fun, enlivened by Toaderico's 4-speaker mp3 player blasting out Romanian music. I would estimate it is at least 20 years old.
The walking started thereafter, and five hours later we got back to the tractor. The land we surveyed was more than good, and Toaderico's instructions in terms of ploughing, treating weeds and generally making ready for planting were all costed and agreed.
Nothing would do, of course, but that we should go to his mother's house for a drink and lunch ( by now it was 4:30 - bit early but still) where we fed the pigs and chickens with corn ( I'm almost sure it's mine but who knows) and ate a delicious dish which I could only describe as scrambled eggs with cheese and really thick very well cooked bacon. The only drawback was the two glasses of tuica I had to consume before I could get to the food. But the business was done and that was the major point.
In the meantime a herd of locusts had descended on the car, with people waving property titles at us and demanding we consider their land, particularly as it was especially good and productive, unlike their neighbour's which was rubbish. We have had to institute a policy that we pay the identical price everywhere, as otherwise it would be a spiral and create great ill will. As it is, people either accept or reject the price is it suits them, and we then have to do the hard work of registrating it ( as Alin would say ) and transferring title. In the event none of them wanted to accept the prices, but I have no doubt they will in time.
The day ended with dinner at the BinderBubi for 6 which worked out at GBP7 per head. Considering the wine, three courses, coffee and beers I though this more than cheap...
Friday, November 20, 2009
Very clever goats
Meanwhile, back in Romania, they have a Presidential election this coming Sunday.
If it was down to the number of posters, Mircea Geoana would win by a mile. But Alin assures me the present incumbent ( Basescu) will be the winner.
" You see, Mr. King, it's like this. If you are Coca Cola, you don't doing much advertising. But if you are Sighisoara Cola, then you must doing much advertising just to get little business."
I'm not 100% sure his argument is valid, but all the other candidates names end in "escu" .There are cases of mothers forcing their daughters into marriages with men just because their name ended in "escu". For some reason you are regarded as an important person. In fact, I was recently introduced as "Learescu" just to make the point...
The weather here is beautiful and warm - 17C today and the most brilliant blue sky. There is the odd wisp of smoke as the gloaming sets in, rising straight up, which is very picturesque.
This is the time of year when the ploughing has to be done so we spent most of today checking that the people doing it were in the right places. It's surprising how often our next door neighbours get their fields ploughed for free...
We went to the Mayor for a cup of coffee and ended up having special sausages made from goat and pig. I was slightly suspicious so we went to check on our goats to make sure it was only the sheep that the teethy wolves were eating. It looks as though the teethy wolves have been adding goats rather than subtracting them, as instead of 58 we now have 62 ( as far as I can calculate the absolute absolute maximum should be 56 and that's stretching it a bit), and all, I am assured, are pregnant. I find this a little hard to believe as it's only now that the billys are let lose on them, but we shall see, as Alin would say. We needed to build an additional shelter to house the new lot of kids, and this has been a major undertaking, with advice from everyone in the village as to exactly where it should be built.Also which way round. And how big, long, wide, high and of what. And what the party should be like when it is finished.
Whilst all this was going on the goat man , Dan and his two helpers had been quietly working away, and I was astonished to see a whole new building within 50 feet of the old one when I arrived there today.
I asked how much it had cost.
" Nothing," said Dan. Being Romania, this had not surprised me as much as it ought to have done.
It transpired the uprights and roof trusses had been donated by the forest man, in exchange for a goat and a pig. The roof was old metal sheets salvaged from cutting up a redundant water tank. The sides had been built using reclaimed block and bricks from various building sites round about. And of course the cement, sand nails etc. had simply appeared..
Now bearing in mind we don't actually have any pigs ( we ate ours this time last year), and it would mean we should only have 55 goats, and however you care to look at it most of the stuff was - how shall I put this delicately - stolen - I was a bit worried about the whole thing.
Dan assured me it was fine. Everyone who "donated" had been compensated. How? He had given them baby goats...and some sheep.
So my goat man steals sheep from my shepherd.
And the goats appear to have some form of alien reproduction as when we counted up the number of people who had been compensated, I reckon the most I should have is 48......
PS
You may be wondering about the pig as officially we don't have any. I'm reliably informed it had wandered into the goat pen and was then passed on to a third party...
If it was down to the number of posters, Mircea Geoana would win by a mile. But Alin assures me the present incumbent ( Basescu) will be the winner.
" You see, Mr. King, it's like this. If you are Coca Cola, you don't doing much advertising. But if you are Sighisoara Cola, then you must doing much advertising just to get little business."
I'm not 100% sure his argument is valid, but all the other candidates names end in "escu" .There are cases of mothers forcing their daughters into marriages with men just because their name ended in "escu". For some reason you are regarded as an important person. In fact, I was recently introduced as "Learescu" just to make the point...
The weather here is beautiful and warm - 17C today and the most brilliant blue sky. There is the odd wisp of smoke as the gloaming sets in, rising straight up, which is very picturesque.
This is the time of year when the ploughing has to be done so we spent most of today checking that the people doing it were in the right places. It's surprising how often our next door neighbours get their fields ploughed for free...
We went to the Mayor for a cup of coffee and ended up having special sausages made from goat and pig. I was slightly suspicious so we went to check on our goats to make sure it was only the sheep that the teethy wolves were eating. It looks as though the teethy wolves have been adding goats rather than subtracting them, as instead of 58 we now have 62 ( as far as I can calculate the absolute absolute maximum should be 56 and that's stretching it a bit), and all, I am assured, are pregnant. I find this a little hard to believe as it's only now that the billys are let lose on them, but we shall see, as Alin would say. We needed to build an additional shelter to house the new lot of kids, and this has been a major undertaking, with advice from everyone in the village as to exactly where it should be built.Also which way round. And how big, long, wide, high and of what. And what the party should be like when it is finished.
Whilst all this was going on the goat man , Dan and his two helpers had been quietly working away, and I was astonished to see a whole new building within 50 feet of the old one when I arrived there today.
I asked how much it had cost.
" Nothing," said Dan. Being Romania, this had not surprised me as much as it ought to have done.
It transpired the uprights and roof trusses had been donated by the forest man, in exchange for a goat and a pig. The roof was old metal sheets salvaged from cutting up a redundant water tank. The sides had been built using reclaimed block and bricks from various building sites round about. And of course the cement, sand nails etc. had simply appeared..
Now bearing in mind we don't actually have any pigs ( we ate ours this time last year), and it would mean we should only have 55 goats, and however you care to look at it most of the stuff was - how shall I put this delicately - stolen - I was a bit worried about the whole thing.
Dan assured me it was fine. Everyone who "donated" had been compensated. How? He had given them baby goats...and some sheep.
So my goat man steals sheep from my shepherd.
And the goats appear to have some form of alien reproduction as when we counted up the number of people who had been compensated, I reckon the most I should have is 48......
PS
You may be wondering about the pig as officially we don't have any. I'm reliably informed it had wandered into the goat pen and was then passed on to a third party...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Some have greatness thrust upon them...
The news reported in the Herald today that Tilda Swinton intends to use the old Nairn cinema house for a festival comes as no surprise. It's been used a few times before and Ms Swinton ( who has some quite interesting domestic arrangements) has been dragging a mobile cinema round in the general vicinity all this past summer.
The report brought in that Charlie Chaplin used to take his holidays in Nairn and I was reminded of one summer when my uncle - long deceased - was staying in the same hotel with Charlie and Oona there at the same time.
I may say Charlie in his day had some interesting domestic arrangements too, and he lived very close to my parents near Vevey on the Lake of Geneva. After his death the Swiss authorities were scandalised that "terrorists" threatened to dig up his body for ransome. In true Chaplinesque style( he was famously stingy) his family made it abundantly clear the terrorists were welcome to keep him- which scandalised the Swiss even more.
But back to Nairn. My uncle saw his entire world through the bottom of a whisky glass, and had all sorts of ways to make you think he didn't drink. In a hotel he would be forever nipping back to get a handkerchief, whilst diverting to the bar for a triple. He only ever ordered a tomato juice in company ( I didn't count) and made the most enormous kerfuffle about Worcester sauce, celery salt and all sorts to divert attention.
So he and I were sitting in the bar, he with his tomato juice, me with my coke when in walked Charlie and Oona. As they sat down an ice bucket and bottle of champagne were brought.
" I think I know him," said my uncle.
" Yes it's Charlie Chaplin and his wife Oona"
"No, its not him - it's a chap I used to know in Edinburgh."
" I promise you it's Charlie Chaplin."
"No,no, I'll just go and speak to him - I'm sure he'll remember me."
Sighing, I got to my feet as he staggered across, sure I would need to rescue a tricky situation. One of the reasons Chaplin went to Nairn was because everyone left him alone.
By this time my uncle had started the "I'm sure I know you" routine, and Charlie, being most gracious, wasn't telling him to go away. Oona looked less happy.
By now my uncle was convinced it was his old mate Douglas from Portobello and kept saying he must remember such and such, as Charlie smilingly shook his head.
He eventually pointed at me.
" I know him. His parents live near me in Switzerland." Uncle pretty much ignored that, called the waiter over and ordered another bottle of champagne.
I finally managed to drag him away, and Charlie and Oona went in to dinner.
" Extraordinary," said my uncle. "Imagine wee Dougie going to live in Switzerland."
The report brought in that Charlie Chaplin used to take his holidays in Nairn and I was reminded of one summer when my uncle - long deceased - was staying in the same hotel with Charlie and Oona there at the same time.
I may say Charlie in his day had some interesting domestic arrangements too, and he lived very close to my parents near Vevey on the Lake of Geneva. After his death the Swiss authorities were scandalised that "terrorists" threatened to dig up his body for ransome. In true Chaplinesque style( he was famously stingy) his family made it abundantly clear the terrorists were welcome to keep him- which scandalised the Swiss even more.
But back to Nairn. My uncle saw his entire world through the bottom of a whisky glass, and had all sorts of ways to make you think he didn't drink. In a hotel he would be forever nipping back to get a handkerchief, whilst diverting to the bar for a triple. He only ever ordered a tomato juice in company ( I didn't count) and made the most enormous kerfuffle about Worcester sauce, celery salt and all sorts to divert attention.
So he and I were sitting in the bar, he with his tomato juice, me with my coke when in walked Charlie and Oona. As they sat down an ice bucket and bottle of champagne were brought.
" I think I know him," said my uncle.
" Yes it's Charlie Chaplin and his wife Oona"
"No, its not him - it's a chap I used to know in Edinburgh."
" I promise you it's Charlie Chaplin."
"No,no, I'll just go and speak to him - I'm sure he'll remember me."
Sighing, I got to my feet as he staggered across, sure I would need to rescue a tricky situation. One of the reasons Chaplin went to Nairn was because everyone left him alone.
By this time my uncle had started the "I'm sure I know you" routine, and Charlie, being most gracious, wasn't telling him to go away. Oona looked less happy.
By now my uncle was convinced it was his old mate Douglas from Portobello and kept saying he must remember such and such, as Charlie smilingly shook his head.
He eventually pointed at me.
" I know him. His parents live near me in Switzerland." Uncle pretty much ignored that, called the waiter over and ordered another bottle of champagne.
I finally managed to drag him away, and Charlie and Oona went in to dinner.
" Extraordinary," said my uncle. "Imagine wee Dougie going to live in Switzerland."
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Gay Black Bishop in Mercy Sex Dash for Duckling!
Actually, no, but I'm told editors of newspapers would give both their arms to be able to use that headline.
It has everything, it's just not entirely true in my case. You would have to leave out Gay,black,bishop,Sex, and you would get the correct headline.
Whilst walking the dog in the park today, beside the pond he snuffled what I took to be a stripey leaf, but which then moved.
It was a duckling. Apparently some misguided lady duck had had seven and this was the only one left, abandoned,cold and wet.
Scooping it up, I popped it into my glove to keep warm, then headed down to Hessilhead where I had called ahead and they had put on an incubator.
We are all keeping our fingers crossed for Ducky.
It has everything, it's just not entirely true in my case. You would have to leave out Gay,black,bishop,Sex, and you would get the correct headline.
Whilst walking the dog in the park today, beside the pond he snuffled what I took to be a stripey leaf, but which then moved.
It was a duckling. Apparently some misguided lady duck had had seven and this was the only one left, abandoned,cold and wet.
Scooping it up, I popped it into my glove to keep warm, then headed down to Hessilhead where I had called ahead and they had put on an incubator.
We are all keeping our fingers crossed for Ducky.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Dashing through the snow *
I'm always against stereotyping, and I think it is particularly unfair that Rock bands and their followers are thought of as drunken, drug laden wasters.
So with some trepidation I offer the following salutary tale.
A new boxed set of a particularly good band ( Snow Patrol, as you ask) goes on sale in a couple of days, and the emails all went out to the Eskimos ( I know, I know) telling them to get in early and buy it.
One particular chap opened the email, then closed it and went on with what he was doing.
10 minutes later he got an email saying his order had been processed and he would be ONE OF THE VERY FIRST to get the new album.
Now this young man was quite sure he had not clicked on buy or put his credit card into the system, and enquired of the Administrator how this could have happened.
The record label's customer service department called him up to explain he had put the order in a couple of months ago.
The administrator then received a somewhat sheepish email, apologising.
As it said: " I was so drunk I can't remember ordering it."
I think they should have a new motto: Snow Patrol - so good you'll never remember.
* I know that has some other potential connotations....
So with some trepidation I offer the following salutary tale.
A new boxed set of a particularly good band ( Snow Patrol, as you ask) goes on sale in a couple of days, and the emails all went out to the Eskimos ( I know, I know) telling them to get in early and buy it.
One particular chap opened the email, then closed it and went on with what he was doing.
10 minutes later he got an email saying his order had been processed and he would be ONE OF THE VERY FIRST to get the new album.
Now this young man was quite sure he had not clicked on buy or put his credit card into the system, and enquired of the Administrator how this could have happened.
The record label's customer service department called him up to explain he had put the order in a couple of months ago.
The administrator then received a somewhat sheepish email, apologising.
As it said: " I was so drunk I can't remember ordering it."
I think they should have a new motto: Snow Patrol - so good you'll never remember.
* I know that has some other potential connotations....
The best days of our lives..
This post in the Speccie referring to compulsory sex education for 15 year olds, reminded me of my own introduction to S-E-X.
When I went to School ( no, not Eton, the one Lord Peter Wimsey referred to as a Railway Junction) there was what was called the " New Boys Course".
This consisted of an induction course, which included where everything was ( stinks lab, swimming pool, where all the Houses were) but also included three half hour lessons on " Human Beings".
Of course, the boys who had already done the course puffed it up outrageously -" Yeah it's SEX!!!". So obviously we were all agog (we 13 year old rampaging hormonal spotted oiks) to get to them. There was never a cry off. In fact, one boy had missed the LAST lecture the year before and he was COMPELLED to attend the third and final talk in his second term.
Being schoolboys, there was of course an Omerta about what was actually said. Torture would never have opened our mouths.
We all trooped in for the first lecture. It was given by the biology master, whose name was Potty Falk. He started off staring above our heads in his dry voice, and began on plants. Then fish - and the lesson finished.
The second one began in the same way, with a brief resume of what had gone before - and went on to frogs.
And then the lesson ended.
The third and final lecture began with a complete resume of the first two lessons, with Potty being even more ethereal and starey into space. The boy who had missed the previous term's final fling was in the front row, riveted to every word.
Potty began to talk about rabbits. I particularly remember the bit about the female rabbit's scut ( tail) flattening up her back when the buck mounted her. Potty drew diagram's on the board. The clock ticked. Potty drew a picture of a doe's reproductive system.
The clock ticked. He drew a picture of the buck's reproductive system.
The clock ticked as the silence was absolute.
And then the bell rang for the end of the lesson.
And Potty looked at the clock and said:
" And it's pretty much the same for human beings"
Can't say I've ever tried it on a rabbit....
When I went to School ( no, not Eton, the one Lord Peter Wimsey referred to as a Railway Junction) there was what was called the " New Boys Course".
This consisted of an induction course, which included where everything was ( stinks lab, swimming pool, where all the Houses were) but also included three half hour lessons on " Human Beings".
Of course, the boys who had already done the course puffed it up outrageously -" Yeah it's SEX!!!". So obviously we were all agog (we 13 year old rampaging hormonal spotted oiks) to get to them. There was never a cry off. In fact, one boy had missed the LAST lecture the year before and he was COMPELLED to attend the third and final talk in his second term.
Being schoolboys, there was of course an Omerta about what was actually said. Torture would never have opened our mouths.
We all trooped in for the first lecture. It was given by the biology master, whose name was Potty Falk. He started off staring above our heads in his dry voice, and began on plants. Then fish - and the lesson finished.
The second one began in the same way, with a brief resume of what had gone before - and went on to frogs.
And then the lesson ended.
The third and final lecture began with a complete resume of the first two lessons, with Potty being even more ethereal and starey into space. The boy who had missed the previous term's final fling was in the front row, riveted to every word.
Potty began to talk about rabbits. I particularly remember the bit about the female rabbit's scut ( tail) flattening up her back when the buck mounted her. Potty drew diagram's on the board. The clock ticked. Potty drew a picture of a doe's reproductive system.
The clock ticked. He drew a picture of the buck's reproductive system.
The clock ticked as the silence was absolute.
And then the bell rang for the end of the lesson.
And Potty looked at the clock and said:
" And it's pretty much the same for human beings"
Can't say I've ever tried it on a rabbit....
This night that I lay down to sleep....*
Mortality, it is said, creeps up on you.
The call yesterday telling me that a dear and longstanding friend of mine had prostate cancer - and not in any benign way either - came as a rude shock, driving thoughts of my being still 18 out of my head.
Perhaps I'm 30 now.
My friend is having injections and will then undergo 7 weeks of radio therapy, 5 days a week. I'm afraid I slightly thought of Simon Gray, who decided not to have anything done, continued smoking manfully and lasted quite a number of years, despite having virtually killed himself off years before with alcohol.
The fact we are all living longer is, of course, partly to blame for the illnesses we oldies suffer. Never forget when Bismark first promulgated pensions for the elderly workers of the Prussian Railway system, he set it at 65, when the average mortality age was less than 60. It's also worth remembering that people worked ALL their lives in days gone by, and it's only relatively recently that we have had a period of ( s0-called) leisure as the shades draw in. I am, however, assured by friends in that position that they have never been busier.
I'm afraid I don't see myself as ever retiring, keeping at least some business activity going to keep an interest, but then, you never know - I might win the lottery tonight.
But back to my friend. I teased him that his present predicament was becuase he had had too many women in his life.
" Oh no," he said," It's clearly because I've had too few...."
*"... I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take"
The call yesterday telling me that a dear and longstanding friend of mine had prostate cancer - and not in any benign way either - came as a rude shock, driving thoughts of my being still 18 out of my head.
Perhaps I'm 30 now.
My friend is having injections and will then undergo 7 weeks of radio therapy, 5 days a week. I'm afraid I slightly thought of Simon Gray, who decided not to have anything done, continued smoking manfully and lasted quite a number of years, despite having virtually killed himself off years before with alcohol.
The fact we are all living longer is, of course, partly to blame for the illnesses we oldies suffer. Never forget when Bismark first promulgated pensions for the elderly workers of the Prussian Railway system, he set it at 65, when the average mortality age was less than 60. It's also worth remembering that people worked ALL their lives in days gone by, and it's only relatively recently that we have had a period of ( s0-called) leisure as the shades draw in. I am, however, assured by friends in that position that they have never been busier.
I'm afraid I don't see myself as ever retiring, keeping at least some business activity going to keep an interest, but then, you never know - I might win the lottery tonight.
But back to my friend. I teased him that his present predicament was becuase he had had too many women in his life.
" Oh no," he said," It's clearly because I've had too few...."
*"... I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take"
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Mine and Thine
The re-emergence of trainspotters is to be applauded. I have noticed many hanging about on several stations, notably Carlisle and Preston. Perhaps it is a preferred North pastime - along with ferrets and pigeons. Stations are, I'm assured, one of the good places for bats.
Mrs. Lear has really taken to bats, and appropriately enough went to a bat conference on 31st October. This, I may say, had 119 delegate branches attending from all over Scotland, so I won't hear any scoffing, if you don't mind. I can't help but think of Jeremy Lloyd's Captain Beaky who had a friend, amongst others, who was known as Batty Bat ( "The bravest animals in the land Are Captain Beaky and his band.That's Timid Toad. Reckless Rat. Artful Owl and Batty Bat.March through the woodland Singing songs That tell how they have righted wrongs." Love it). We need stuff like that to cheer us up in these dark days.
I noted the other day that some august body had worked out that the banks were lending £215 billion a year less than the sum required to finance the economy. So it's no surprise it is still contracting. That £215 billion deficit will have to be eliminated before we return to stability and a stuttering growth. Mind you, if the Government had simply handed all the money they have given to the banks to the likes of us there would be no problem.As Keynes once remarked ( I think) the best way to restore an economy is to pay people to dig holes, fill them with bank notes, then get people to dig them up. In a sense, this is what Quantitative Easing is all about.
Although this time round the mistake was made to give the resulting money to the banks who promptly bought Government debt ( as they were pretty much forced to do by the stupid new rules which brought about this debacle in the first place.)
The Romanian's have what I would describe as a robust attitude to the present problems. They've never had a period of what I would call " You've never had it so good" so things are just a bit worse, rather than a LOT worse, and they were only a bit better so the difference is quite small.
They also have a different morality to things - if it's not nailed down, I can take it. And even if it is nailed down, maybe I can take it anyway.
When I was last there we drove along a road that a year ago had been a dirt track, but which now was tarmacked. As we got further from the main road, the surface was more and more broken up, until eventually there were only a few scattered complete patches.
On our way back we passed a horse drawn cart loaded with slabs of "reclaimed" tarmac. Clearly this valuable resource was being recycled, as everything is in Romania....
Mrs. Lear has really taken to bats, and appropriately enough went to a bat conference on 31st October. This, I may say, had 119 delegate branches attending from all over Scotland, so I won't hear any scoffing, if you don't mind. I can't help but think of Jeremy Lloyd's Captain Beaky who had a friend, amongst others, who was known as Batty Bat ( "The bravest animals in the land Are Captain Beaky and his band.That's Timid Toad. Reckless Rat. Artful Owl and Batty Bat.March through the woodland Singing songs That tell how they have righted wrongs." Love it). We need stuff like that to cheer us up in these dark days.
I noted the other day that some august body had worked out that the banks were lending £215 billion a year less than the sum required to finance the economy. So it's no surprise it is still contracting. That £215 billion deficit will have to be eliminated before we return to stability and a stuttering growth. Mind you, if the Government had simply handed all the money they have given to the banks to the likes of us there would be no problem.As Keynes once remarked ( I think) the best way to restore an economy is to pay people to dig holes, fill them with bank notes, then get people to dig them up. In a sense, this is what Quantitative Easing is all about.
Although this time round the mistake was made to give the resulting money to the banks who promptly bought Government debt ( as they were pretty much forced to do by the stupid new rules which brought about this debacle in the first place.)
The Romanian's have what I would describe as a robust attitude to the present problems. They've never had a period of what I would call " You've never had it so good" so things are just a bit worse, rather than a LOT worse, and they were only a bit better so the difference is quite small.
They also have a different morality to things - if it's not nailed down, I can take it. And even if it is nailed down, maybe I can take it anyway.
When I was last there we drove along a road that a year ago had been a dirt track, but which now was tarmacked. As we got further from the main road, the surface was more and more broken up, until eventually there were only a few scattered complete patches.
On our way back we passed a horse drawn cart loaded with slabs of "reclaimed" tarmac. Clearly this valuable resource was being recycled, as everything is in Romania....
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