I've had a pleasant couple of days, if somewhat motorway centric, driving to Salisbury for a Gurkha Welfare Trust meeting.
I went with our new (Scottish Branch) Treasurer, who proved a delightful companion, and we managed to talk nearly the whole way there and back.
We were asked to put our expenses in in order to get a cheque before leaving, which we duly did.
As we had only had a couple of sandwiches and 2 coffees on the way down, it was deemed appropriate that we should receive simply double this paltry figure for sustenance.
I had intended to take our Treasurer to a London lap dancing club, eat at Mr. Chows and stay at the Ritz, but sadly it was not to be. Perhaps if our Chairman had been with us...
So with GBP 11.60 in hand, we got as far as Tebay before stopping.
Now you probably know that even the most unappetising plate in such places is GBP10, so the Treasurer - excellent chap that he is - said as I was the driver, he would have a packet of crisps.
But a solution was found - two bowls of soup, rolls and butter, juice and a yogurt came to GBP 10.56, leaving GBP 1.04.
The Treasurer, true to his excellent accountant's honesty, suggested we should send back this sum.
I, true to my spendthrift tendencies, bought a packet of crisps and blew the budget.
We had used the Tom Tom and ended up doing about 40 miles over some rather nice country roads.
When we were discussing this with one of the girls in Salisbury, she brought up the business of map reading. In descending order, the best map readers are supposed to be heterosexual males, followed by lesbians, gay men and heterosexual females bringing up the rear.
I know its incredibly non-pc, but we discussed why gay men should be worse than gay women, or straight men.
"Ah" said our hostess "They have difficulty keeping their hands pointing in the right direction."
So there you have it.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Romanian Goats
Those of you who follow me in Romania may be wondering how the goats are doing.
Very roughly, we now have so many goats and so many due to produce babies that they are taking over the village.
What happened in the past was that people bred goats, sold some, ate some and then bred some more. No one has ever NOT got rid of any and kept breeding.
You might find it extraordinary but we spent a couple of hours discussing this particular problem, which is a problem not only for the people ( yes we now have 3) looking after them, but for the very terrain they inhabit.
Suffice to say we agreed to keep the maximum number at 100 and to sell ( or eat) whatever number more we had. We will also have to buy some more land to keep feeding them - fortunately this won't be a problem.
On the subject of crops, trefoil would appear to yield 4 cuts a year and each hectare is worth about £500. This will feed about 8 goats for the full year - so input = about £60pa.
Cost of looking after them is about £30 pa ( total costs divided by total numbers) so lets just say the all-in cost is £100 pa.
There is, of course, the by-product - the dung which gets spread everywhere, but ignoring that, we would expect to sell each goat for about £300. This may sound a lot, but these are special goats - and it's only for the Billies.
So lets just say the 100 goats produce 100 babies, and 50% are boys. Our total costs will be £10,000 and our income £15,000 - with an extra 50 female goats thrown in to replace any that die.
Or start a new herd somewhere...
Very roughly, we now have so many goats and so many due to produce babies that they are taking over the village.
What happened in the past was that people bred goats, sold some, ate some and then bred some more. No one has ever NOT got rid of any and kept breeding.
You might find it extraordinary but we spent a couple of hours discussing this particular problem, which is a problem not only for the people ( yes we now have 3) looking after them, but for the very terrain they inhabit.
Suffice to say we agreed to keep the maximum number at 100 and to sell ( or eat) whatever number more we had. We will also have to buy some more land to keep feeding them - fortunately this won't be a problem.
On the subject of crops, trefoil would appear to yield 4 cuts a year and each hectare is worth about £500. This will feed about 8 goats for the full year - so input = about £60pa.
Cost of looking after them is about £30 pa ( total costs divided by total numbers) so lets just say the all-in cost is £100 pa.
There is, of course, the by-product - the dung which gets spread everywhere, but ignoring that, we would expect to sell each goat for about £300. This may sound a lot, but these are special goats - and it's only for the Billies.
So lets just say the 100 goats produce 100 babies, and 50% are boys. Our total costs will be £10,000 and our income £15,000 - with an extra 50 female goats thrown in to replace any that die.
Or start a new herd somewhere...
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Head for them thar hills!
One of the dangers of being in Romania is that you continue to think like a Brit and/or a townie. So I would fully expect some idiot to come out of a side road at full speed and attempt to despatch me whence I came.
What I didn't expect was a cow to try the same thing.
It was the lone stampede. I suspect it had got away from the herd and was going hell for leather for the hills - except it had to get across the road in front of us first.
I'm glad to say Alin was not on two mobile phones at that precise moment and was able to steer round the cow - thus blocking the pursuing posse.
Last seen the cow was half way up the nearest hill.
What I didn't expect was a cow to try the same thing.
It was the lone stampede. I suspect it had got away from the herd and was going hell for leather for the hills - except it had to get across the road in front of us first.
I'm glad to say Alin was not on two mobile phones at that precise moment and was able to steer round the cow - thus blocking the pursuing posse.
Last seen the cow was half way up the nearest hill.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
East meets West
Various Ms. Lears have forwarded me this suggesting that this is - at last - a suitable job for me.
I was reminded of Middle Ms Lear coming to visit my office in the East End of Glasgow some years ago, parking outside the building.
When she came in, she told me that some children had come up to her and offered her a glass of water, which she found very strange.
It is impossible to render in writing what was actually said, but the translation was that famous phrase :" Do you want me to look after your car for you?"
The correct response - in the old days - was to hand over 50p and clip the lead urchin round the head. This is now regarded as a bit tooo lese majeste.
A denizen of the West end had come across town some time ago, and was approached with the same question.
"No thank you" he said "I have a Rotweiler in the car"
Lead urchin digs pal in ribs." See they Rotweilers - Ah never new they cud put fires out....."
He paid.
I was reminded of Middle Ms Lear coming to visit my office in the East End of Glasgow some years ago, parking outside the building.
When she came in, she told me that some children had come up to her and offered her a glass of water, which she found very strange.
It is impossible to render in writing what was actually said, but the translation was that famous phrase :" Do you want me to look after your car for you?"
The correct response - in the old days - was to hand over 50p and clip the lead urchin round the head. This is now regarded as a bit tooo lese majeste.
A denizen of the West end had come across town some time ago, and was approached with the same question.
"No thank you" he said "I have a Rotweiler in the car"
Lead urchin digs pal in ribs." See they Rotweilers - Ah never new they cud put fires out....."
He paid.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Corn, Cabbage, Goats and the Post
Life in Romania is never dull, but what it is, is extremely busy. This being the time of year when the crops are "got in" I have been busy selling corn.
Actually, I haven't. I've been discussing the politics, economics and spiritual dimensions of selling corn - with a broad-brush occasional mention of the price, which would appear to be very good.
There is a move NOT to sell the corn but to hoard it and sell for more later, but as this is our first year we probably ought to just sell and work out how it has done, which at least would give us a benchmark for future years.
Various odd bits of land have been discussed and the goats are being readied to be mated and then produce more goats, which should mean that next year we can sell some.
The sheep exist - somewhere. I just can't get them to stand still long enough to know whether I have lots - or not. Noone seems too bothered either way.
Overall, though, I would say things have turned out pretty well this year and now the weather has turned sharply colder ( there was a flurry of snow today) people will be much more ready to discuss selling land.
This is the weekend of the cabbage festival, which is being led by one of the most famous priest/singers in Romania. People will be flocking to hear him from tens of miles away, all coming to Mosna, and the police have already put in place road blocks to direct incomers to suitable parking places. We locals have pre-ordained specific parking spots. The Senators and Deputies, nearest, then the other Mayors, then Councillors and so on. Our spot is immediately behind the stand,beside our Mayor and in front of the rest, and I have to eat the first plate of new season's cabbage salad, and say "Pofta Buna!" roughly translated as "eat well".
There is, of course, to be a celebratory lunch which I am looking forward to, except for the fact that our accountant ( who works FOR the Tax Office) has intimated she would like to visit the Festival. She will have to come to the lunch as well.
I've been intrigued with the potential postal strike in the UK. Anything more sure to kill off the Post Office in anything like it's existing form would be hard to imagine, but hey, maybe we'll all be better off.
Romania has a different attitude to this.
I noticed a very smart new yellow box outside a paper shop the other day, but was astonished to see it had disappeared by the time 9pm came round.
Fascinated, I discovered it had returned the next morning, and nothing would do but I should ask about it.
Very sensibly, instead of having expensive buildings, post boxes and the like, Romania now has a system of post boxes which are issued to suitable shops to put in the street. They do have to be chained down ( everything here is) and taken in at night to avoid damage or vandalism, but the expansion in the mail services has been astronomic.
Maybe our own PO should try increasing collections and deliveries rather than cutting them down in order to raise the throughput.
But then, increasing business is not something we Brits regard as quite the done thing nowadays.
Actually, I haven't. I've been discussing the politics, economics and spiritual dimensions of selling corn - with a broad-brush occasional mention of the price, which would appear to be very good.
There is a move NOT to sell the corn but to hoard it and sell for more later, but as this is our first year we probably ought to just sell and work out how it has done, which at least would give us a benchmark for future years.
Various odd bits of land have been discussed and the goats are being readied to be mated and then produce more goats, which should mean that next year we can sell some.
The sheep exist - somewhere. I just can't get them to stand still long enough to know whether I have lots - or not. Noone seems too bothered either way.
Overall, though, I would say things have turned out pretty well this year and now the weather has turned sharply colder ( there was a flurry of snow today) people will be much more ready to discuss selling land.
This is the weekend of the cabbage festival, which is being led by one of the most famous priest/singers in Romania. People will be flocking to hear him from tens of miles away, all coming to Mosna, and the police have already put in place road blocks to direct incomers to suitable parking places. We locals have pre-ordained specific parking spots. The Senators and Deputies, nearest, then the other Mayors, then Councillors and so on. Our spot is immediately behind the stand,beside our Mayor and in front of the rest, and I have to eat the first plate of new season's cabbage salad, and say "Pofta Buna!" roughly translated as "eat well".
There is, of course, to be a celebratory lunch which I am looking forward to, except for the fact that our accountant ( who works FOR the Tax Office) has intimated she would like to visit the Festival. She will have to come to the lunch as well.
I've been intrigued with the potential postal strike in the UK. Anything more sure to kill off the Post Office in anything like it's existing form would be hard to imagine, but hey, maybe we'll all be better off.
Romania has a different attitude to this.
I noticed a very smart new yellow box outside a paper shop the other day, but was astonished to see it had disappeared by the time 9pm came round.
Fascinated, I discovered it had returned the next morning, and nothing would do but I should ask about it.
Very sensibly, instead of having expensive buildings, post boxes and the like, Romania now has a system of post boxes which are issued to suitable shops to put in the street. They do have to be chained down ( everything here is) and taken in at night to avoid damage or vandalism, but the expansion in the mail services has been astronomic.
Maybe our own PO should try increasing collections and deliveries rather than cutting them down in order to raise the throughput.
But then, increasing business is not something we Brits regard as quite the done thing nowadays.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Toodle Pip!
Just about to set off to Romania via Valencia. This new route should be an interesting experience as I have two overnights in airports.
Mind you a plate or two of tapas en route will go down a treat.
As one of the Ms. Lears opined:
"Between the worn out shoes and the quote below - is Dad in fact not in Romania, but moonlighting as Shadow Business Secretary??
"I only get overweight on good quality food. And I always avoid unnecessary exercise." - Ken Clarke in conversation with Andrew Rawnsley"
See previous post for refutation.
Mind you a plate or two of tapas en route will go down a treat.
As one of the Ms. Lears opined:
"Between the worn out shoes and the quote below - is Dad in fact not in Romania, but moonlighting as Shadow Business Secretary??
"I only get overweight on good quality food. And I always avoid unnecessary exercise." - Ken Clarke in conversation with Andrew Rawnsley"
See previous post for refutation.
First Quarter results
The first three months of the Official Walking regime are over.
I'm about 7 kgs lighter.
My Buddha like tummy has shrunk a little.
And I spend a lot of time hanging around bus-stops.
All in all I would have to say it's been quite a success. The Ms Lears are astonished that I have kept it up, but then, no one ever takes my determination about things seriously - it's the affable exterior. If I may say so, a bit like David Cameron.
The Doc wanted me to do a 24hr. Blood Pressure monitor, so I turned up at the hospital at the appointed hour. Promptly called through, the nurse started rigging me up for an ECG.
" Er, am I having an ECG as well?" I asked.
"It's just an ECG."
" No, I'm in for a BP 24hr test"
"No, you're here for an ECG."
" No, its the BP test."
Very belligerent, hands on hips. " Do you want to make me go and check"
" Yes" - and off she stamped.
Of course, she never reappeared, but another nurse did with the right equipment.
" Sorry about that - couldn't read the instructions properly " ( didn't read them at all, as they were typed)
So I was fitted with an arm band and monitor - which didn't work.
And another - which didn't work.
And then a third one, that was so big it would have easily done an elephant - and kept falling off .
Finally, the fourth one fitted and worked, and off I toddled.
If you have ever had to have this done, you will know how appallingly inconvenient it is. Every time it went off I was in the middle of something and had to stop. Then it went off about every 20 minutes. If I didn't have high BP before I certainly had it with the machinery.
Strangely, it didn't bother me too much overnight, and I dropped it back the next morning.
There was also a form that needed to be completed saying what I was doing during the day - as in 10:45 driving. 11:15 walking, 12:45 cooking ( it went off twice whilst I was in the middle of making two lots of soup),1:15 eating, 8:30 TV.
The ones that would have confused them from me were 9:00 pm computer 9:30 Chess - I'm looking forward to see what they make of it all.
The other problem is that I have White-Coat Syndrome, which I would expect carried over into the monitoring environment, so if you hear I have dropped dead from a heart attack it will be because they have made me have another test ( I intend to refuse if they want one)
I'm about 7 kgs lighter.
My Buddha like tummy has shrunk a little.
And I spend a lot of time hanging around bus-stops.
All in all I would have to say it's been quite a success. The Ms Lears are astonished that I have kept it up, but then, no one ever takes my determination about things seriously - it's the affable exterior. If I may say so, a bit like David Cameron.
The Doc wanted me to do a 24hr. Blood Pressure monitor, so I turned up at the hospital at the appointed hour. Promptly called through, the nurse started rigging me up for an ECG.
" Er, am I having an ECG as well?" I asked.
"It's just an ECG."
" No, I'm in for a BP 24hr test"
"No, you're here for an ECG."
" No, its the BP test."
Very belligerent, hands on hips. " Do you want to make me go and check"
" Yes" - and off she stamped.
Of course, she never reappeared, but another nurse did with the right equipment.
" Sorry about that - couldn't read the instructions properly " ( didn't read them at all, as they were typed)
So I was fitted with an arm band and monitor - which didn't work.
And another - which didn't work.
And then a third one, that was so big it would have easily done an elephant - and kept falling off .
Finally, the fourth one fitted and worked, and off I toddled.
If you have ever had to have this done, you will know how appallingly inconvenient it is. Every time it went off I was in the middle of something and had to stop. Then it went off about every 20 minutes. If I didn't have high BP before I certainly had it with the machinery.
Strangely, it didn't bother me too much overnight, and I dropped it back the next morning.
There was also a form that needed to be completed saying what I was doing during the day - as in 10:45 driving. 11:15 walking, 12:45 cooking ( it went off twice whilst I was in the middle of making two lots of soup),1:15 eating, 8:30 TV.
The ones that would have confused them from me were 9:00 pm computer 9:30 Chess - I'm looking forward to see what they make of it all.
The other problem is that I have White-Coat Syndrome, which I would expect carried over into the monitoring environment, so if you hear I have dropped dead from a heart attack it will be because they have made me have another test ( I intend to refuse if they want one)
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Weather forecast
I think it's because I'm now officially aged but I keep telescoping things in my head. So something that happened 10 years ago seems like last year and so on.
As a result, two events far apart now bring forth expletives and curses about how such and such is always happening.
However,
I'm fairly sure about the following:
Lots of weather girls have first names that sound like "Gale" - especially on the BBC, and especially the Scottish ones- see here and also here and even here..
It could, of course, be a comment on the weather up here which, certainly at this time of year, is frequently " Gales and heavy showers"
As a result, two events far apart now bring forth expletives and curses about how such and such is always happening.
However,
I'm fairly sure about the following:
Lots of weather girls have first names that sound like "Gale" - especially on the BBC, and especially the Scottish ones- see here and also here and even here..
It could, of course, be a comment on the weather up here which, certainly at this time of year, is frequently " Gales and heavy showers"
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Michael Jackson - Alive?
Glasgow has just hosted the MOBO awards, and the Herald has on its front page a picture of La Toya Jackson, looking v. nice on the red carpet.For some reason it isn't on the web.
Now I seem to remember a while ago someone did a thing saying Jacko and La Toya had never been seen together, anywhere, ever. It may just have been a spoof, but looking at her today.....
Now I seem to remember a while ago someone did a thing saying Jacko and La Toya had never been seen together, anywhere, ever. It may just have been a spoof, but looking at her today.....
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Labour achievements
You may not believe this but I have been really busy for the last week, both in London and in Romania. Hence the lack of posts, and too much to tell, much of it of no interest to readers.
I did catch this mornings news on bbc.co.uk as I like to know what has been happening whilst I am away, so that I do not appear entirely ignorant when I return.
Even the Beeb is talking of a fin-de-siecle feeling in the Labour conference, and I spotted the following information in one of the papers:
Spending on the NHS has doubled since Labour came to power. Yet the number of beds run per administrator has dropped from 12 to just 5. And nurses? They now look after 10 beds as opposed to 6. Real progress there then.
Similarly, the education budget has doubled. We have slipped to 16th in the OECD table of reading 'riting and 'rithmetic - from 4th.
Oh, and we have the highest percentage of year 1 drop outs at University of any country in the world.
What achievements!
I did catch this mornings news on bbc.co.uk as I like to know what has been happening whilst I am away, so that I do not appear entirely ignorant when I return.
Even the Beeb is talking of a fin-de-siecle feeling in the Labour conference, and I spotted the following information in one of the papers:
Spending on the NHS has doubled since Labour came to power. Yet the number of beds run per administrator has dropped from 12 to just 5. And nurses? They now look after 10 beds as opposed to 6. Real progress there then.
Similarly, the education budget has doubled. We have slipped to 16th in the OECD table of reading 'riting and 'rithmetic - from 4th.
Oh, and we have the highest percentage of year 1 drop outs at University of any country in the world.
What achievements!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Choir
I was walking along the road today and my ears were assailed by hymn singing.
On investigating, it was coming from the Crosshill Evangelical Church, which is a building beside the Bank.
The singing was excellent, and as I had a bit of spare time, I wandered in to see what they were up to.
There were about 20 people there with a conductor and organist ( I suppose strictly it was a harmonium), and they were clearly enjoying themselves, and, as Old King Lear would have said, giving it laldy.
It turns out there is a competition for the choirs of Evangelical Churches, and they were practising.
And filling the streets of No Mean City with praise and cheerfulness.
On investigating, it was coming from the Crosshill Evangelical Church, which is a building beside the Bank.
The singing was excellent, and as I had a bit of spare time, I wandered in to see what they were up to.
There were about 20 people there with a conductor and organist ( I suppose strictly it was a harmonium), and they were clearly enjoying themselves, and, as Old King Lear would have said, giving it laldy.
It turns out there is a competition for the choirs of Evangelical Churches, and they were practising.
And filling the streets of No Mean City with praise and cheerfulness.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
At the wedding ( Part 94)
Away in Yorkshire yesterday for the wedding of a relative, which took place in a church in Hull called Saint Charles Borromeo. I thought I was pretty good on Catholic Saints, but had never heard of him, so I have subsequently undertaken a little research.
However, at the wedding, I enquired of many of the people I spoke to who he was, and was met with complete ignorance. I eventually approached the Abbot who had taken the wedding service, and was told a little about him.
I said that he didn't seem to have accomplished a miracle, something which in his time would have been required.
" Ah, well, " said the Abbot," I would say he was a miracle of administration."
As ever more rubbish comes through the letter box, I can empathise with that.
What I wanted to tell you about was a tale told which pleased me no end.
A young(ish) officer was recently appointed adjutant to a rather fine regiment, and the first morning, his phone rang.
At the other end of the line was a very officious sounding lady who said that such and such a form hadn't been received, and really it was too bad, etc etc.
The Adj apologised and said that he had only arrived that morning, wasn't quite up to speed, but he would definitely sort it out asap.
The lady continued to harangue him, casting various nasturtiums about his abilities and remarking she was always getting that kind of B******t from jumped up penpushers, until eventually the Adj butted in.
" Look, I've just got here, I've just become a father, he's only 8 weeks old and I'm finding it really difficult!"
The voice softened somewhat, and started to sympathise.
" So what's his name? How heavy was he?"
" Oh he was very light, only about 2 lbs."
" Ah I can see you would be worried ( the voice was almost loving by now) - and what is his name?"
" Magic"
" Yes, I'm sure he is," said the lady even more solicitously, if that were possible. " But what's his name?"
" His name is Magic. " There was a silence.
" Are you going to baptise him with that name?"
" Well, I don't think the Church baptises Black Labradors....."
The outcome is they are now married and jointly looking after Black Magic..
However, at the wedding, I enquired of many of the people I spoke to who he was, and was met with complete ignorance. I eventually approached the Abbot who had taken the wedding service, and was told a little about him.
I said that he didn't seem to have accomplished a miracle, something which in his time would have been required.
" Ah, well, " said the Abbot," I would say he was a miracle of administration."
As ever more rubbish comes through the letter box, I can empathise with that.
What I wanted to tell you about was a tale told which pleased me no end.
A young(ish) officer was recently appointed adjutant to a rather fine regiment, and the first morning, his phone rang.
At the other end of the line was a very officious sounding lady who said that such and such a form hadn't been received, and really it was too bad, etc etc.
The Adj apologised and said that he had only arrived that morning, wasn't quite up to speed, but he would definitely sort it out asap.
The lady continued to harangue him, casting various nasturtiums about his abilities and remarking she was always getting that kind of B******t from jumped up penpushers, until eventually the Adj butted in.
" Look, I've just got here, I've just become a father, he's only 8 weeks old and I'm finding it really difficult!"
The voice softened somewhat, and started to sympathise.
" So what's his name? How heavy was he?"
" Oh he was very light, only about 2 lbs."
" Ah I can see you would be worried ( the voice was almost loving by now) - and what is his name?"
" Magic"
" Yes, I'm sure he is," said the lady even more solicitously, if that were possible. " But what's his name?"
" His name is Magic. " There was a silence.
" Are you going to baptise him with that name?"
" Well, I don't think the Church baptises Black Labradors....."
The outcome is they are now married and jointly looking after Black Magic..
Plus ca change...
" I am extremely anti-Labour. They are so far apart from fairies and owls and bluebells and Americans, and all the things that I like.
If they agree with me I know they are pretending - in fact I believe everything is pretence to them."
This was written in 1924, and could equally be true today, and, I would venture, equally true of the majority of this country's views at the moment.
Of course, the person writing these words was rather special.
It was Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, quoted in Shawcross's new book.
If they agree with me I know they are pretending - in fact I believe everything is pretence to them."
This was written in 1924, and could equally be true today, and, I would venture, equally true of the majority of this country's views at the moment.
Of course, the person writing these words was rather special.
It was Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, quoted in Shawcross's new book.
Friday, September 18, 2009
I can hardly bring myself to say his name, but Gordon Brown has displayed once again his complete cynical disregard for anything but small-minded party attitudes.
This blog on the Speccie Coffee House underlines precisely why NuLiebore has been an utter failure.
Rather than taking a line he actually believes in ( which at least would have the merit of being proncipled) he vacillates in the wind to try to score points, and provide himself and his appalling crew of never-having-made-a-penny misfits ( unless you count taking it from us) with "cover" for his next pronouncement.
The one piece of good news is my computer - busy dying - can be replaced and have everything transferred for GBP 80.
The new one only has 60 times the capacity - 4 years on
Mrs. Lear enquired yesterday why the boffins hadn't just made the chips more powerful to start with, rather than making then better, faster, bigger all the time, and cheaper.
I decided it was too complicated to explain.
This blog on the Speccie Coffee House underlines precisely why NuLiebore has been an utter failure.
Rather than taking a line he actually believes in ( which at least would have the merit of being proncipled) he vacillates in the wind to try to score points, and provide himself and his appalling crew of never-having-made-a-penny misfits ( unless you count taking it from us) with "cover" for his next pronouncement.
The one piece of good news is my computer - busy dying - can be replaced and have everything transferred for GBP 80.
The new one only has 60 times the capacity - 4 years on
Mrs. Lear enquired yesterday why the boffins hadn't just made the chips more powerful to start with, rather than making then better, faster, bigger all the time, and cheaper.
I decided it was too complicated to explain.
Gold-plated pensions
I can hardly credit it, but I have checked and the following is absolutely true.
In year 2002/3, the cost of public employee pensions in Scotland was £211 million.
For next tear ( 2010/11) John Swinney's budget has a figure of £2,500 million.
In other words, within an 8 year period, the cost of pensions to the Scottish Government has risen more than 11 fold.
I can only assume that the UK Government figures are not entirely unadjacent to these - Scotland after all is about 10% of the UK, in terms of population, even though we have more public service employees than the UK average.
I can't help but think there will come a point where the people who are working ( whose taxes actually pay these staggering sums) won't be able to pay their taxes, and more importantly won't be prepared to pay them either.
Of course, when Bottler Brown ( remember that?) repeatedly says he borrows to invest, what he actually means is he borrows to bribe people to vote for him. Unfortunately for him, this option has now ended.
The one interesting thing is, there are definitely now some projects which I would invest in. There's no takers for the space, the banks won't give any money to undertake them - but all that means that maybe - just maybe - there's a bargain out there for those with some cash and a lot of balls.
You need to want to do it, and you need to be young enough to be bothered.
That lets me out then.
In year 2002/3, the cost of public employee pensions in Scotland was £211 million.
For next tear ( 2010/11) John Swinney's budget has a figure of £2,500 million.
In other words, within an 8 year period, the cost of pensions to the Scottish Government has risen more than 11 fold.
I can only assume that the UK Government figures are not entirely unadjacent to these - Scotland after all is about 10% of the UK, in terms of population, even though we have more public service employees than the UK average.
I can't help but think there will come a point where the people who are working ( whose taxes actually pay these staggering sums) won't be able to pay their taxes, and more importantly won't be prepared to pay them either.
Of course, when Bottler Brown ( remember that?) repeatedly says he borrows to invest, what he actually means is he borrows to bribe people to vote for him. Unfortunately for him, this option has now ended.
The one interesting thing is, there are definitely now some projects which I would invest in. There's no takers for the space, the banks won't give any money to undertake them - but all that means that maybe - just maybe - there's a bargain out there for those with some cash and a lot of balls.
You need to want to do it, and you need to be young enough to be bothered.
That lets me out then.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Unnecessary but difficult.
I do rather like Brown's assertion that he will cut unnecessary programmes. I would have assumed if something was unnecessary it would never get started. Of course,being this government, it needs to pretend the unemployment figures are real, so uses its patronage to fund unnecessary programmes for people with non-jobs.
More importantly, I've just filled in a questionnaire which purports to assess whether I am suitable for a particular survey - a survey about a survey.
One of the questions was along the lines of " Do you worry about...?" and a long list of things that it had never occurred to me to even think about let alone worry over.
I liked the question: " Using difficult words?"
Do I worry about using difficult words? I don't think so. But on the other hand, what's a difficult word? Would that be three or more syllables? On that basis I've used several in the last few sentences. Or four? I've used a couple. Or maybe, in this day and age, the really difficult words are not classified by length, but rather by meaning.
I can think of restraint, responsibility, leadership, cuts.
Now there's a few really difficult words to deal with.
More importantly, I've just filled in a questionnaire which purports to assess whether I am suitable for a particular survey - a survey about a survey.
One of the questions was along the lines of " Do you worry about...?" and a long list of things that it had never occurred to me to even think about let alone worry over.
I liked the question: " Using difficult words?"
Do I worry about using difficult words? I don't think so. But on the other hand, what's a difficult word? Would that be three or more syllables? On that basis I've used several in the last few sentences. Or four? I've used a couple. Or maybe, in this day and age, the really difficult words are not classified by length, but rather by meaning.
I can think of restraint, responsibility, leadership, cuts.
Now there's a few really difficult words to deal with.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
My way of life is fallen into the sere...*
As I edge slowly closer to the day when all the tax I've paid over the years starts to get paid back to me ( that's the OAP pension by the way - and is itself taxed) I am beginning to realise that I have lived my entire life without realising quite how pernicious and intrusive this Government is.
It all kicked off when I claimed my winter fuel allowance.
Then my bus pass.
That triggered visits from council officials, entailed visits to doctors, tests on my perfectly healthy body ( its like the police - trap unsuspecting illegal parkers and let the thieves and drug dealers go free) - and forms.
I have now lost count of how many forms I have had to fill in, just to make sure the Government doesn't strike me off it's list of future dependants.
The idea is quite simple. They send a form, and at the bottom it says ( in small letters, natch) words to the effect of " If you don't send this back timeously ( is that 14 days? 7 days? A month?) you will lose your entitlement to xyz until you fill in another form asking for us to be very kind and send you a new form like this one again - oh, and its not back-dated."
I've just had to fill in a form to confirm my tax code.
Now bear in mind it's not me who sets the code - the Government sends out a form every now and then which has the code on it. I effectively have little or no input, and the code is the one applied to my tax affairs until they change it.
Even so, the form stipulates that I need to tell them what my tax code is and failure to do so blah blah blah.
It also has my tax reference and NI number on it, and my date of birth, all of which I have to write in as well.
Why?
I have no idea - apart from the Government employing bodies to send the forms out, and presumably check them before filing them away.
But I'm absolutely sure I'm not going to lose one penny of what I'm entitled to.
I have to go now as the post has arrived - with yet another form to confirm I'm still alive and they do have to pay the winter fuel allowance...
*... into the yellow leaf ( Macbeth)
PS
At least it gives me something to do whilst waiting for the "upturn" we are assured is... er well er....well, the upturn.
It all kicked off when I claimed my winter fuel allowance.
Then my bus pass.
That triggered visits from council officials, entailed visits to doctors, tests on my perfectly healthy body ( its like the police - trap unsuspecting illegal parkers and let the thieves and drug dealers go free) - and forms.
I have now lost count of how many forms I have had to fill in, just to make sure the Government doesn't strike me off it's list of future dependants.
The idea is quite simple. They send a form, and at the bottom it says ( in small letters, natch) words to the effect of " If you don't send this back timeously ( is that 14 days? 7 days? A month?) you will lose your entitlement to xyz until you fill in another form asking for us to be very kind and send you a new form like this one again - oh, and its not back-dated."
I've just had to fill in a form to confirm my tax code.
Now bear in mind it's not me who sets the code - the Government sends out a form every now and then which has the code on it. I effectively have little or no input, and the code is the one applied to my tax affairs until they change it.
Even so, the form stipulates that I need to tell them what my tax code is and failure to do so blah blah blah.
It also has my tax reference and NI number on it, and my date of birth, all of which I have to write in as well.
Why?
I have no idea - apart from the Government employing bodies to send the forms out, and presumably check them before filing them away.
But I'm absolutely sure I'm not going to lose one penny of what I'm entitled to.
I have to go now as the post has arrived - with yet another form to confirm I'm still alive and they do have to pay the winter fuel allowance...
*... into the yellow leaf ( Macbeth)
PS
At least it gives me something to do whilst waiting for the "upturn" we are assured is... er well er....well, the upturn.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Norman Conquest of the Scots
We were down in Ayrshire today. a place that is a bit like the Bermuda Triangle. If you go to live there you never see anyone from anywhere in Scotland ever again - unless they come to Ayrshire.
We had lunch at the Failford Inn which makes it's own beer, and exceptionally fine meat burgers ( NB that's a proper unformed beef burger) They do other things too, and being a nice day we were able to sit out. They have a huge midge eating machine, which is not longer necessary at this time of year, though something for the wasps would have been good. Everyone was bothered with them except myself. In fact insects generally don't bother me, and I put this down to having been stung so often as a child that they think I'm one of them now.
The talk was general, but my friend, the Retired Civil Engineer, was of the opinion that the Normans only came as far as Ayrshire as they came north, presumably along the coast ( that's the way most journeys used to be undertaken), found Ayrshire pretty OK and stayed there. They didn't bother going much further - cold and miserable, don't you know. Symington for example would appear to be from the Norman for Simon, and Robert The Bruce was a Norman.
The story is told that Robert's mother - Marjorie of Carrick - was in her castle someplace in Ayrshire, of Norman construction, standing on the battlements, and a group of knights and their retinues passed by.
One of the knights was especially good looking, strong, big and rode a magnificent charger.
Calling her own men at arms, she instructed them to capture this paragon, and bring him to her.
There was quite a barney, and after it, the other knights were driven off, and the Beauty was hustled into the castle.
Robert II - for it was he - was visited every day by Marjorie, who merely asked him one question - " Will you marry me?"
He refused each day for a fortnight, and on the fifteenth day agreed to marry her.
Robert III ( Robert the Bruce) was not a particularly good man, and known for pragmatic political maneuvering - but then at the time so was everyone else. But they were Normans, not Scottish as we think of them.
The thought does occur to me though - was Marjorie very ugly, or was Robert II just playing hard to get?
We had lunch at the Failford Inn which makes it's own beer, and exceptionally fine meat burgers ( NB that's a proper unformed beef burger) They do other things too, and being a nice day we were able to sit out. They have a huge midge eating machine, which is not longer necessary at this time of year, though something for the wasps would have been good. Everyone was bothered with them except myself. In fact insects generally don't bother me, and I put this down to having been stung so often as a child that they think I'm one of them now.
The talk was general, but my friend, the Retired Civil Engineer, was of the opinion that the Normans only came as far as Ayrshire as they came north, presumably along the coast ( that's the way most journeys used to be undertaken), found Ayrshire pretty OK and stayed there. They didn't bother going much further - cold and miserable, don't you know. Symington for example would appear to be from the Norman for Simon, and Robert The Bruce was a Norman.
The story is told that Robert's mother - Marjorie of Carrick - was in her castle someplace in Ayrshire, of Norman construction, standing on the battlements, and a group of knights and their retinues passed by.
One of the knights was especially good looking, strong, big and rode a magnificent charger.
Calling her own men at arms, she instructed them to capture this paragon, and bring him to her.
There was quite a barney, and after it, the other knights were driven off, and the Beauty was hustled into the castle.
Robert II - for it was he - was visited every day by Marjorie, who merely asked him one question - " Will you marry me?"
He refused each day for a fortnight, and on the fifteenth day agreed to marry her.
Robert III ( Robert the Bruce) was not a particularly good man, and known for pragmatic political maneuvering - but then at the time so was everyone else. But they were Normans, not Scottish as we think of them.
The thought does occur to me though - was Marjorie very ugly, or was Robert II just playing hard to get?
Friday, September 11, 2009
Graffiti as art/poetry/whatever
There is a "thing" going on which seems to be suggesting that Grafitti is art.
Some of it certainly is, but some of it is intrusive rubbish.
So I was pleased to notice on the pavement as I walked along this morning two pieces of ... whatever.
Both were quite small, all yellow,and in each case the signature was a picture of a howling wolf.
The first said:
" The lone wolf returns
to the wilderness
to allow his broken heart
to mend"
The second one said:
"Hey Miss!
Come to the pub.
I'll buy you a drink"
Seems to me his heart mended quite quickly.
Some of it certainly is, but some of it is intrusive rubbish.
So I was pleased to notice on the pavement as I walked along this morning two pieces of ... whatever.
Both were quite small, all yellow,and in each case the signature was a picture of a howling wolf.
The first said:
" The lone wolf returns
to the wilderness
to allow his broken heart
to mend"
The second one said:
"Hey Miss!
Come to the pub.
I'll buy you a drink"
Seems to me his heart mended quite quickly.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Beasties
In case you haven't heard the delicious Winchester Whisperer is off getting married and won't be around until 1st October. I'm not sure if she is combining a honeymoon with a business trip, or just being lazy, but I wish her enormous happiness and a long life.
However, it is noted from her blog that a ( soon to be) relative killed off her pet spider ( Solomon) which is not only bad luck but also allows flies and other beasties to flourish. Perhaps Minniebeastie ( better known as minniebeaniste) has been able to flourish because of a dead spider.
Actually, a minniebeastie is a baby Haggis when it is rushing around the highlands growing up....
Anyway, we have a spider that lives in our guest bathroom, which we have to clear away when guests come. He/she always comes back, and in fact is getting bolder. Known as Spidey ( v. original), it has just made its way to the radiator under my desk and is warming itself.
I regard this as a good omen.
Hopefully, it won't turn into Shelob.
However, it is noted from her blog that a ( soon to be) relative killed off her pet spider ( Solomon) which is not only bad luck but also allows flies and other beasties to flourish. Perhaps Minniebeastie ( better known as minniebeaniste) has been able to flourish because of a dead spider.
Actually, a minniebeastie is a baby Haggis when it is rushing around the highlands growing up....
Anyway, we have a spider that lives in our guest bathroom, which we have to clear away when guests come. He/she always comes back, and in fact is getting bolder. Known as Spidey ( v. original), it has just made its way to the radiator under my desk and is warming itself.
I regard this as a good omen.
Hopefully, it won't turn into Shelob.
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