The Dunkirk Spirit

Well,with a bit of luck I'll be back Sunday night. I won't bore you with all the machinations required to get a ferry reservation, but suffice it to say I had to get the Mayor to pull a few strings. Quite what his connection with Stena Line is I have no idea, but I suspect it may have something to do with RomGaz where his son works..

Of course, Romanians being what they are, they are convinced the flight ban has only been promulgated to enable train and bus companies to make a profit, and there could be a smidgen of truth in that. They are certainly profiting handsomely.

Spring has definitely arrived in Sighisoara - the little sad smiley ladies are out with their bunches of flowers. As you may recall from a previous post, their real business is not selling flowers, but getting their pictures taken. They are chosen for their diminutive size and the bitter-sweet smile they can put on. I defy anyone not to want to take a picture of them clutching a small bunch of wild flowers...

My enforced presence here has worked quite well, as people who might have wanted to avoid talking to us have no excuse not to when there would appear to be no imminent departure, so we have been able to achieve much that might not have happened otherwise. The weather continues to be beautiful after one day of rain.

The Mayor was very concerned that I would be travelling for at least 2 days to get home, and said that the situation was of such gravity that I should be allowed to take a bottle of tuica with me en route. In fact, it just so happened he had one with him, and, purely by chance, another one as well, which he proposed to keep me company with overnight. I reminded him of our compact, and after a bit of ( false?) concern for my well-being, he conceded he would save them for 3rd September.

He did insist however we should have a special lunch.

As you know, lunch is about 5pm, and we went to a place I had never been in Medias. I can only describe it as a barn, which it was, as it was a flour store for the bakery next door.

The "lunch" was prepared in the bakery oven and consisted of an entire leg of piglet smoked and roasted, served with nothing but the beans so beloved by everyone here - myself included. It was the most enormous chunk I had ever seen on a plate, and was absolutely delicious.

Of course, there was no charge. When the Mayor asked for the bill, he expressed wonderful astonishment that it was free. He is very good at that. It's a bit like the Godfather.." Your Don expects you to do this out of respect and love for him...."

I take the train later tonight. It feels a bit like Europe at the start of WW2 - it will be dark, a spirit of fortitude required, sandwiches, water - and loo-paper.

You never know...

Elyssium

My enforced prolongation of stay in Romania is throwing up all sorts of wonderful things.

Not least is the fact that rather than 120 odd goats we now appear to have more than 150.

At this time of year they are out in the fields in groups of 10/15, being looked after by young boys, who might be described as Peter's descendants ( That's Peter as in Heidi). Quite how I own all these goats is completely beyond me. The good thing is that it is creating employment where there was none before and the cries of horror at the size of the herd have diminished as more and more people are taking care of them. I think there are now 14 in total, with the boys on about GBP2 per day, with the seniors on about GBP6. It is of course 7 days a week, so there are opportunities to rotate work as needed.In the winter they are all indoors, so far fewer people are needed to look after them.

The first of the Billys went off to market and fetched about GBP300 each, so it's all woking out quite well though my fingers are firmly crossed. At last count we should be selling about 40 so we are firmly on course for a small profit this year

Goats, of course, eat their way through everything, so we have had a policy of getting them onto the worst land that needs cleaning up. Once the goats have chomped their way across, planting or reseeding is a doddle.Yesterday was spent all day in the fields, and a serious suntan is now in place. The butterflies and lizards were also stirring, and Transylvania is back to it's magical best.

I have a new camera which is simply wonderful - I have lots of really good pictures of my feet or the sky, but not many of anything else. Naturally, I don't have the instruction manual with me, nor would I read it if I did - it's a man thing. Fortunately, Alin is always on hand, and spent the whole evening early last week working out how it worked. At least I can now take a picture, look at it and erase it too.

Out here, sometimes amazing things happen for no apparent reason.

Alin was approached a few weeks ago by a man who couldn't pay his gas bill, begging to sell us a piece of land.

It wasn't where we wanted it.

It wasn't near anything else we owned.

It wasn't that easy to access.

It hadn't been worked for some years.

There were title problems, inheritage problems ( as Alin calls them) and even a problem with his ID.

Elena, the Capo of the local food Mafia in Nemsa, asked us very politely if we would please buy it, as she owed the man a favour. Reluctantly, Alin agreed to buy it, after his usual " Mr. King, what you tink?" elicited a shrug of my shoulders down the telephone.

One of the magical things here are the picnics people have. Barbecue is almost a religion. The Mayor has a good spot, set in the trees, but without much outlook. I've been looking for a spot where I could have my barbecue. Two or three areas have come up, but all of them just lacked a little something.

So yesterday we went to look at the land Alin had reluctantly bought, and slaved over to get the paperwork in order.

To say I was charmed would be to put it too mildly.

The land sits above Nemsa, looking straight down the valley and across the village, nestling in a kind of hollow below a wooded hillock.

We both just stood there gazing about.

" Mr. King, I'm thinking this will be your picnic spot."

A load of fag ash..

I've deliberately not mentioned the volcanic ash cloud up to now, as I couldn't believe Europe as a whole had collectively taken leave of it's senses.
When Mt. St.Helens erupted over a far larger area of the United States in 1980, less than 1000 flights were cancelled, and those mostly because the airstrips were covered with ash which had to be cleared away.
The Met office is in full cover-its-backside mode. Quite apart from the fact that people who study volcanoes regularly fly through the ash to measure all sorts of things, IATA has roundly condemned Europe, lambasted European leaders for their inaction, and calling the travel chaos "a mess and an embarrassment. "
Iata chief Giovanni Bisignani said: "The decision that Europe has made is with no risk assessment, no consultation, no co-ordination, no leadership."
Well that shouldn't be such a surprise - that's Europe described perfectly.

Cold turkey

There are perils associated with doing business in Romania, and I have been hit by two of them today.

The first concerns some land we have owned for quite some time. To cut a long story short, there would appear to be two pieces of land with the same reference number.

As far as the law and we are concerned, we own the bit we thought we bought. As far as the person farming our land is concerned, it is still his.

However, it actually works in our favour, ,as we have a specific requirement for another piece nearby, which is owned by the dispossessed farmer. Nothing could be simpler than to effect a transfer each way....which has therefore worked out very well in our favour.

The other problem is the Mayor , having had his birthday, has decided he won't drink until my birthday on 3rd September. The problem is he has roped me in to do the cold turkey with him. In fact, it won't be much of a problem for me as I don't drink in the UK anyway, but I am Godfather at another wedding in Romania on 16th May, and that will be quite difficult.

Still, it's in a good cause. The bet is a bottle of whisky - to be drunk by the loser.

I don't drink whisky, so I better not lose.

PS. You see what being drunk does to you....???

A badge of honour

Being in Romania makes me reflect on what the EU actually does.

Apart from giving farmers like me subvention payments, most of the time it's objects are Statist and regulatory.

For instance, last year when we did the contracts for renting the land to various people, we simply put all the bits one individual was renting onto one piece of paper and had it notarised. The Romanians ( who make French and Italian bureaucrats look like amateurs) have simply layered EU regulations on top of their own. Somewhere along the line, this has translated into having to do one contract for each piece of land.

So yesterday we took the notary with us to Nemsa and Alma Vii, clutching ream upon ream of paper, and as each renter came up he signed, I signed and stamped, in three copies.

128 times.

Times 3.

I was completely punchdrunk by the time we finished.

The only ray of light on the horizon is that this is the first year this has had to be done, and everyone is up in arms about it, so there is likely to be a modification for next year.

Last year we got goats and sheep as rent, but as we now own most of the goats in the area ( and having the sheep simply feeds the teethy wolves and the locals), we will receive a share in the produce in the autumn, or in some cases days work. This last is quite useful as it saves having to pick and choose who we want to work for us on the day.

Yesterday was the Mayor's birthday, so of course we had to go and wish him many happy returns. He is now 58, and although he drinks like a fish and eats all the wrong things, he looks remarkably young. I put it down to his not smoking at all and being effectively stress free. Everyone does everything for him.

Of course, it could just be the genes.

His father died last month.

He lost a leg in the war and refused ever to wear a prosthetic, which stood outside his front door for all to see. He hirpled about on his crutches until the day before he passed away.

He was married twice( his first wife died during WW2) and Eugen is the progeny of his second marriage post-war.

He was 92 when he died, a man who worked the fields well into his 70s, and a previous mayor in the Communist era.

So I expect at least another 25 or 30 years out of Eugen.

Goat Stew.

I've been very busy the last couple of days out here, and very boring it has been as well.

Hours spent with lawyers and accountants are just about bearable, but with officials who require upwards of 40 or 50 signatures and stamps is enough to make me want to shoot myself. Fortunately, it does eventually end, and one can emerge blinking into the sunshine again.

The Mayor is well. The house he is building for his son and daughter-in-law is progressing well, even if he has some odd ideas. He has decided it should have CCTV cameras. As everyone has told us,"For what he wants this? To watch his chickens pecking?" The house is in the grounds of his own house, which is immediately beside the police, so it is extremely unlikely anyone would attempt anything.

The centre of Sighisoara is no longer a mess - the cobbles have all been put back, although with true Official determination some of them have had to be dug up again. They had very carefully sunk some uplighters into strategic locations - the only problem being no one had laid any electric cables...

The new seasons cabbage is not here yet. This means that one does not order cabbage salad as it is a bit white and tough. Of course, foreigners and people from Bucharest are steered to order it, as they, of course, know no better.

But the overwhelming question of the day, on everyone's lips, is what are we going to do with the goats? You may recall last autumn we had about 60 - I say "about" as my calculation was less than the goatherd's, which, in turn,was less than there actually was.

Having been mated in November, we now have a string of baby goats emerging, which, in theory, will take us to about 120.

This is such an enormous number that people actually can't conceive of how we are going to deal with them. As Baldrick would say, I have a cunning plan...

It looks as if we will have about 25 or 30 male goats from the new crop, so these will be sold far and wide - we will only sell in our area if anyone wants one. Some may even find their way back to Switzerland to help their gene pool.

On 23rd May, a large delegation is coming from LeManoir near Caen in France to mark 25 years of association with Mosna. There is to be a feast for the whole (top echelon) population of the three villages and the French - about 300 people in total.

By my reckoning, this will use up about 30 kids. Of course, the Mayor has a budget for this, but Mosna City Hall also has a derelict orchard I want, so we have arranged a small swap. He will buy the goats from me and I will buy the orchard from him. More precisely, Mosna will give me the orchard and I will pay the Mayor....

But hey - that's the goat problem solved . For this year at least..

Kaka

The weather here in Romania is not of the very best, but it was still great to get into the hills and check the land that had most recently been bought. I had seen pictures and maps sent over the internet, but there is nothing quite like walking over one's own land, and seeing what the views are like from it.

We have huge amounts to settle in the next week or so, from what to do about the goats, which are beginning to take over everyone's thinking in Nemsa, to registering additional land for subvention payments, appearing before the land court and many more.

But today was Sunday, so it was more important to just get the feel for the area again.

This is the time of year that the snails are collected.

Every wet patch of grass has its own seeker or two, complete with sacks to pop the little darlings into.

I was most impressed to see this, and stopped to watch for a few minutes. I remarked what a good food source they were, after being hung in a sack for a week to drain them of any residual dirt.

"No, Mr. King, " said Alin." We Romanians are definitely not eating such things. We think of them as kaka ( a universal European term for poo)"

Apparently, snails go for about GBP3.5 per Kg. to the collector, and each village has it's own super collector who pays out, then takes a van load to the main town where huge lorries are waiting to take them to other countries. They are never eaten in Romania.

In the season, the ordinary collectors, after some rain, can make up to GBP30 per day - just about a week's wages in the countryside.

As we were going to visit the Mayor, we stopped in Medias flower market to pick up a bunch of roses. There were some lovely yellow ones, with red centres, and I immediately bought a bunch of 7 for GBP2.50. I raised them to my nose and sniffed.

There was a sort of plasticky smell. My thought was it was the paper around them, so I plunged my nose further in.

Still plasticky - indeed, rather moreso.

I turned to Alin.

"These flowers smell funny."

He looked at me and burst into side-slapping gales of laughter.

The red bits in the middle were not natural - they were spray-painted on.

And it had been comprehensively and expertly transferred to my nose and face.

Very Cheeky..

I'm back in Romania after the winter break, and was greeted with a dull day. It brightened as we drove back from Cluj to Sighisoara, and I heard of the Polish airplane crash and the death of the Polish Prime Minister. Not over comforting, then, that I had bee flying with a Polish airline ( Wizz)

More importantly, on the flight with me were The Cheeky Girls. They of course come from Cluj originally.

Now in Romania, they are NOT known for one of them having been engaged to Lembit Opik. Indeed when I mentioned this to another passenger, they asked a) what nationality was he and b) what did he do. I explained he was a Lib-Dem MP, and the enquirer laughed.

"That" he said,"Is why I have never heard of him"

The reason they are known in Romania is because one of them ( I have no idea which one) supposedly had an affair with Tony Blair.

They are not known for their singing ability.

BORING!

I'm already bored with the election. At 11pm last night the scrolling BREAKING NEWS feed from Sky had, as it's one and only story " Gordon Brown calls election for May 6th"
That was hardly breaking, it had been broken some 12 hours earlier.
The only potential joy I can see is the bloggers, mobile phone cameras and mobile phone recorders catching politicians unaware and skewering phoniness, as has been pointed out elsewhere.
I'm off to London and Romania for the next few weeks, so will at least miss the first half.
I may have to remove myself somewhere else for the rest....

PLEASE take us back to the '80s, not the '70s

I know my reader doesn't like it when I mention politics, but this is a slightly off-topic mention with a bit of a sideswipe.
Depicting David Cameron as Gene Hunt has to be the stupidest thing this Labour Government has ever done - and it's done many many stupid things.
Of course, it's stupidity has a purpose - to make us all more dependant on the State. Even taking away the tax break on pension dividends was designed in the long term to make more people reliant on the State - and turkeys don't vote for Christmas.
But DC as GH harks back to a period which many regard as a golden age. From the 70's we were a bankrupt, nonentity of a country, until we regained pride in ourselves again and in our country. Labour, of course, destroyed that pride before, and have done it again. Reagan did the same with America - it had lost it's faith in itself, and Reagan gave her it back.Clinton and Obama have thrown it away again and Americans will come to regret their retreat.
Labour talks of taking tough decisions, but in reality take none - bar to set up another quango and deliberate.
Many years ago, one of the heads of Nestles, that great multinational, told me that in many ways it didn't matter what decisions he took - by the time it mattered it would be long after it was relevant. The same is true in any field - what matters is having a decision so that plans can be made. The problem is none of the present slew of national or local Labour politicians have a clue about that - they've never taken any decision beyond where their next meal is coming from.
And before you tell me they have taken decisions, in general they are disastrous.
So back to Gene Genie. If you are a man, wouldn't you like to do away with all the PC claptrap and just say what you really think without being mealy mouthed?
And if you're a woman, even if you are a feminist, I can't help but think you just might like that hint of danger...

Casablanca

What is it that makes a truly great film? People think I'm a bit odd because I watch and re-watch films that I regard as great.
Casablanca has to be in the top ten and is on More4 this afternoon.
There isn't any part of it that drops below excellent - the pace,the acting, the story, the message.Great films send shivers down my spine, and this one is no exception.
In case you aren't sure, Rick (aka Humphrey Bogart) does NOT say " Play it again Sam". He just says "Play it". Ingrid Bergman on the other hand says " Play it Sam".
But he DOES say " Here's lookin'at you kid."
Wonderful

MOD and Joanna Lumley and Gurkhas

How many Gurkhas have arrived since the new immigration entitlements were announced?
This is a matter for the Home Office and the UK Border Agency and beyond the remit of the WPC. It is inevitable that the number of Gurkhas will increase in this country as a result of a series of changes to Government immigration entitlements for Gurkhas. The Trust is ready to respond to any increase through the establishment of a Welfare Centre in Salisbury and strong partnerships with other Service Charities and agencies.
What do you think of Joanna Lumley
Joanna Lumley has been a champion of the Gurkha solider for decades and is a loyal and devoted daughter of the Regiment. The Trust is honoured to have Miss Lumley as a Vice Patron of the Trust and thrilled that she has lent her support to the launch of a major fundraising drive for the Trust.
What is Joanna Lumley’s position on the recent media coverage on UK Gurkha welfare?
You will have to ask Joanna Lumley. These issues are beyond the remit of the WPC.
Is Joanna Lumley to blame for the hardships being experienced by Gurkhas in this country?
Of course not. The issues on UK Gurkha welfare are complicated and best addressed another time. For now, focus of the WPC is raising funds for 10,000 old Gurkha soldiers and widows in Nepal who rely on the Trust.
What is the Trust’s position on GAESO and the other organisations accused of exploiting Gurkhas.
These issues are beyond the remit of the WPC
The Trust is deeply distressed to learn of instances where organisations and individuals have misled Gurkhas over the realities of life in the UK. The Trust is in no way implicated in these articles and, in partnership with the MOD, has in place a comprehensive welfare structure to support those seeking resettlement in the UK. These services are impartial, authoritative and provided free of charge.
These are complicated matters and best addressed in another forum as the WPC is a fundraising activity with its focus on raising money for welfare pensions (and the CT).
What does the Trust think about the cases of Gurkhas in distress in the UK recently featured in the media?
The Trust is very concerned about reports of Gurkhas in need of welfare support. It would be inappropriate for the Trust to comment on the detail of the specific welfare cases in the media, but in general it is important that the public is reassured, there an excellent welfare infrastructure in place for any Gurkha in need in this country and it responds with urgency to cases of distress and hardship both here and in Nepal. The Gurkha Welfare Centre in Salisbury (with a forward operating base at Aldershot) is the focus for all UK Gurkha welfare and is helping Gurkhas seek their statutory entitlements and benevolence from other Service charities and agencies.
If there is such a huge demand for welfare support in this country, why is the WPC directing its funds to Nepal?
There are 10,000 old soldiers and widows in Nepal who are in the twilight of their lives and rely absolutely on the Trust for a dignified old age. We owe a debt of honour to these people, many of whom are WWII veterans.
Furthermore, the WPC is a personal challenge for Mike Willis and Bruce Jackman. They are compelled to help their old comrades and those that served directly alongside of them.

Scandal! Gossip!

Now I know it's Poisson d'Avril, but this is absolutely true ( and tickles my sense of glee. )
I live in an area of Glasgow where there are various kinds of social occasion, including concerts, Gal days and the like. Not every married couple equally like such events, so as we live in an enlightened and open society, one couple's husband could quite easily escort another man's wide to eg an art show, whilst the other halves went their own ways quite separately.
Nothing wrong in that... except... I'm a very cynical old King. As Reggie's CJ would say, " I didn't get to where I am today by being not cynical and eating pumice stone.."
There is one couple with an age difference of about 30 years. The lady concerned is a bit ditzy, but hey that's fine, she's nice looking, well dressed and quite cheery.
Her husband likes football, she likes concerts. So she goes to concerts - with another married man who is about the same age as the husband - a " walker".
And has done for years.
And being an entirely cynical chap, I've always thought they were at it like rabbits in spring. It is undeniable that a year or so into the " relationship" she had glammed up a bit more and had a silly smile on her face - as did the walker.
Time goes on, and the smiles faded.
Move forward a year or two. I happen to be in the doc's surgery today having the remains of my face removed - when lo and behold in comes the walker, muffled up, cap pulled down over face, coat turned up. He would have been unable to recognise me.
He goes to where the repeat prescriptions are collected, but finds his is not there. He whispers his name to the receptionist, who calls across to her colleague, " Has the doc not done Mr.Walker's Viagra prescription yet?"
You heard it here first.
PS
I have a running joke with a friend that I can tell when people have been at it - they have flashing signs on their head, which fade until they do it again. And the more they do it the brighter the sign.
So if you see a couple with one flashing sign but not over the other......

Weasel by name.....

I missed this but it was forwarded to me by a close relative.

"Don't know if you saw this at the weekend. Essentially a member of the public wrote to his MP referring to Lord Mandelson as "Herr Diktator Mandelweasel" and rather than correct it, the MP's covering letter said "Please find enclosed a letter from [the constituent] who is concerned about the ramifications of Mr Mandelweasel's three strikes and disconnect policy". The MP's office pp'd it, the department's correspondence unit issued a three page standard line reply about the digital economy bill, without referring to the error, just had it pp'd and sent. The best bit, however, is the quote from the department's spokesperson: "Lord Mandelson and his ministerial team are concentrating on this important issue and others facing our digital economy. Weasels are beyond his remit, for now at least."

Watch this space for "Lord High Weasel Hunter"...

Does anyone remember Catweazle? ( see above...)

PS

Don't quite know why but for some reason this reminded me of when the youngest Miss Lear was very small, and we were skiing in Murren. The children's dinner was always 6 pm, and the maitre d' was always fluttering about his " little princesses" clearly looking for the big tip at the end of the holiday.

Youngest Miss Lear was never very taken with him. In fact, every evening after he had done his bit and moved away, and whilst spooning whatever food it was into her mouth would say " He's a worm..."

What MOD and Government are doing for the ex-Gurkhas...

Dated 29 Mar 10

WORK UNDERTAKEN BY MOD AND GOVERNMENT
FOR THE SETTLEMENT OF EX-GURKHAS SINCE MAY 2009

· A cross-Government working group set up in June 2009 quickly established the ground that needed to be covered to make sure that those coming to the UK had fast track arrangements for obtaining National Insurance numbers which are essential to claim benefits and to get into employment.

· The DWP and UKBA worked between July and October to make arrangements for a special stamp for passports that would enable ex-Gurkhas reside in the UK for only 3 months before benefits could be paid.

· Time MOD recruited and trained staff to run a new Gurkha Settlement Office in Kathmandu which opened for business on 3rd October 2009. The government of Nepal and all ex-service organisations were briefed by MOD about the role of the new Gurkha Settlement Office which provides free help and assistance on the settlement process. This included information and education about life in the UK, filling out the visa form, help with completeing supporting documentation and get on the fast track for National Insurance.

· To date over 4000 visits to the office have been made by ex-Gurkhas and their dependants.

· Also in October 2009, the MOD in partnership with the Gurkha Welfare Trust (GWT), expanded its existing welfare arrangements in Aldershot with additional staff to deal with incoming ex-Gurkha welfare cases. A new Gurkha Welfare office jointly manned by GWT and MOD staff opened in January 2010 for the same purpose.

· In November 2009 and January 2010 several hundred ex-Gurkha representatives in Nepal were briefed by a joint MOD/UKBA team about the benefits of using the Kathmandu settlement office. In addition, all the major ex-service charities have been consulted about what more could be done in the UK. As a result of these consultations the DCLG announced in January that they will set up a Housing Advice Centre which will not only help ex-Gurkhas and their families identify suitable housing but will offer landlords a bond to cover the rent deposit required before the property could be made available.

· In March 2010, a booklet in English and Nepali that explains the cost of living in the UK was widely issued at the request of the ex-service organisations.

· A comprehensive book about life in the UK will be issued in Nepal in April this year. The book, developed in association with ex-servicemen, the service charities and local authorities contains information that ex-Gurkhas need to know about living in the UK.

· In April, further MOD/UKBA consultation and briefings will take place in Nepal with ex-service organisations. It is also intended to forward base some of the settlement office staff from Kathmandu to the east and west of Nepal to try and reach those who might not be able to travel to Kathmandu.

Gurkha Highlander 2010

The wonderfully delectable Winchester Whisperer has asked if there will be the Gurkha Highlander this year.
The short answer is yes, but it will be late June early July this year and be slightly different in that there will be 7 mountains to climb, one per day.
Further details here:

Please be really helpful and donate here:

The Counter Revolutionary Council for Iran

I'm in London on domain business,so didn't get to make up my bed on the couch until after 2:30 his morning, and as I can't sleep beyond about 7 if been up and about for a few hours.
I'm waiting for my friend Carlo to wake up - his day doesn't start until at least noon.
So I though I would share something with you.Carlo is an Armenian Iranian, whose father was the Shah's personal pianist.
He was able to get into the premier school in Iran, called Alborz, by hard work and because he had always been able to speak English.
Apart from running the school's black market economy, he won the Shah's Scholarship to Columbia University in the States.
The only problem was that just after he turned 15, things got a bit iffy, and his parents sent him to the UK, where he was supposed to study before going to the States.
Unfortunately, being 15, the bright lights distracted him somewhat ( which they continue to do to this day) and after quite a short period the UK Immigration people revoked his student visa.
As he says, " What to do?".
His parents told him not to come back as things were now in total turmoil, the Shah having fled.
His solution was to form his own political party - The Counter Revolutionary Council for Iran - and marched into the Immigration office and demanded political asylum.
This, of course, was under Mrs.T, and you didn't just get let in willy nilly.
So from then on he had to make his own way with nothing from the UK ( CF the present system) and had to wait 6 years before he was allowed to apply for permanent residency.
He then managed to get his mother here ( his father was in prison in Iran) and told the authorities she was also a political asylum seeker. When his father got out of jail 3 years later, he organised his escape.
There is a twist in his father's tale.
Carlo's uncle, his father's brother, was a very rich man with worldwide interests and he had left Iran before the Shah, taking as much with him as he could. But there was ten times the amount left behind, which Carlo's father had hidden by creating a false chimney -which actually worked. The Revolutionary Mullahs never found it, despite torture and tearing the house apart.
So when Carlo said to his father he had arranged to smuggle him out, he was told that he could not come until he had retrieved the treasure.
The escape plans had to be changed to include a whole truck to cart the jewels and other items, which increased the danger a hundredfold.
Carlo's uncle travelled to the border to await the truck on the appointed day, and leapt for joy when it appeared over the desert.
He told his brother he would give him a quarter of the rescued treasure, but Carlo's father refused.
"No, my brother, these are your things. I was merely the caretaker until I could return them to you"
The brothers argued until finally Carlo's father said "Look. I have no wish for anything from you. But if you insist on me having something, let it be the most valuable thing you can give."
"Name it"
" Your love"
PS
Carlo just got his UK passport- 22 years later.

Ready!

I was out for dinner last night in Stravaigin 2 in Ruthven Lane in Glasgow, and very good it was too.
I was with a friend who I have mentioned before who is a strong Celtic supporter, but also has much to do with the various rescues of fu'baw clubs up and down the country.
I told the tale before of the Americans wanting to buy Rangers, but there is an addendum.
It is common knowledge that the Ranger's supporters club is hoping to achieve something of a takeover now that the Ellis one has foundered on the sleight-of-hand being discovered about the piece of land the club did NOT own.
So my friend was invited to an informal meeting to show how they might go about it.
No sooner had he walked through the door than one of the supporters leapt to his feet shrieking "TREACHERY"
My friend, never one to hold a grudge, burst into hysterical laughter, which rather brought the meeting to an abrupt end.
But remember - you read it here first that the supporters will buy Rangers....
*I should perhaps mention that Celtic were beaten 4-0 by St. Mirren whilst we were having dinner.
" I don't care," said my host," I'm a Rangers supporter now..."
** Stravaigin 2 used to house the offices of perhaps the first of Glasgow's fine diners - Poachers, long since sadly deceased

That was the week...

I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to post over the last week. I had a speaking engagement in Braemar for the WI and the Castleton Lady Dancers of Braemar, who gave the GWT an excellent cheque. Immediately afterwards I spent time talking to various BR engineers as the recent Halkirk Crossing train crash happened on my land (!) To cut a long story short BR want to do various works and need to use some of my land to effect them. Visions of pots of gold are not appropriate, but I daresay I will be able to afford a Lottery ticket.
M'learned friend and I were due to travel south on Sunday to Salisbury, but the trial he was due to preside over was moved back from Thursday to Wednesday, necessitating his travel by train.
BR had closed the line between Carlisle and Preston for works ( and almost certainly just to spite me ) which meant I would have taken 17 hours to get to Salisbury, so I stuck with Plan A and drove.
The reason for the GWT meeting was to update us on various matters, notably the bad publicity in the Daily Mail and Independent on the Gurkhas who have come over since the ruling last summer - Lumley's Law one might call it.
In fact, the numbers that have a problem is relatively small ( and mostly caused by GAESO's misinformation) whilst the vast majority who have done it properly for free through the GWS have been able to access help immediately on arrival if required.
Only some 150 have had to have real help, and that has been immediately organised through the GWT.
There are already some who are going back ( life here is not in the least much fun for them) and there will be lots more who come, but the Newspapers resolutely refuse to see the second chapter - the good news rather than the bad.
I believe there will be a ministerial statement soon and also a statement by JL.

Drunks in Romania

From The Times
March 10, 2010
Drivers warned of drunks in road as Romania tries to reduce accidents.


Road signs warning drivers that drunken people may be in the road have been put up to reduce the number of accidents.
The signs read "Attention - Drunks" and show a reveller crawling along with a bottle in his hand.
Petru Antal, the Mayor of Pecica in Romania said his town had a vibrant nightlife. He said: “We are a border town and have lots of cars thundering through here all the time. But we also have a very vibrant nightlife and the two don't mix.
“We have to target the drivers because by the time they get to this state the pedestrians are beyond caring.”

This of course, is not something that we have a problem with in Mosna, Nemsa and Alma Vii.
The drunks are all driving the cars.....

Self assessment

Mrs. Lear as you know is doing terribly well at Auchencruive Scottish Agricultural College.
Apart from having a sore back from all the tree planting she has been doing, she and her remaining 4 mates are all doing just great.
There were 7 at the start of the year but one dropped out after a couple of weeks (gamekeeper chap) and another after about a month( got a job in town).
Anyway, they have to provide each other with assessments of their performance on the tree project.
Now Mrs. Lear as you know has only been out there in academia for a relatively short while,and doesn't really have the hang of how to advance her cause.
If you want a good assessment you have to make sure the rest of the class knows you intend to give them a good assessment.
Unfortunately, she omitted to do any lobbying,and handed out 2 "poors", one "fair",and one "merely adequate".
It caused a bit of a frost at the housewarming one of her co-students had on Friday night....

Fighting the Terrorists and dangerous dogs

This is a true story.
I have a friend with a famous name, which really is ( let's say) Winston Churchill.
He wanted a cheap pay as you go phone and popped into a shop in one of the not-quite-as-smart areas of London.
After some discussion, he gleaned that a) the phone was £20 b) he could have a simcard to top up c) he could give any name he liked d) he could give any address he liked and e)there were no identity checks.
Being a decent sort he handed over the £20, and gave his own name " Winston Churchill"
" Nah," said the vendor," Come off it mate, that's obviously fake."
" No really, it's my name"
" Piss off, think of another one."
" OK how about Mickey Mouse?"
" Now you're talking - that'll be mister M.Mouse. Address?"
" The Magic Kingdom,Westminster, London SW1 1 BF."
Vendor hands over phone and simcard.
As my friend left the shop he overheard the vendor say to his sidekick -" That's the fourth M.Mouse we've had this week...."
It'll be like the dangerous dogs thing, toothless.
Hm maybe that's not quite right but you get my point.
My dog, who is the friendliest fluffiest dude you could ever come across has been marked down by the youngest Ms Lear as in need of registration under the Dangerous Dogs act.
" After all, " she says," even quite sane people turn into simpering idiots in his presence - he clearly turns their brains to mush. Most dangerous."
PS
Can't help but think Disney will be suing for breach of copyright.

The King's New Clothes

Perhaps the first sign of the bottom of the recession has emerged.
I went along to my tailor Stephen Purvis today for the first time in more than 18 months.
The visit was necessitated by the extreme slimness ( well marginally slimmer) body I now have with all the walking I do.
He has had a dreadful couple of years (not least getting separated ) but within the last two weeks some of his old customers have returned ( including myself).
So he measured me up and agreed the shape was different,and it would be MAY before he could deliver. Which is when the conversation got round to how bad it's been, but also how much work he has recently got.
What has quite pleased him too is that as the punters return, he can get the balances they owe him from the last time they visited.
People never pay their tailors - until they need more clothes.
Anyway, I have ordered two pairs of cords, one deep blue, one purple as befits a King, and a most becoming pair of dark grey flannels. A jacket will follow once I start getting the trousers.
Just as well really - everyone would hate to see my underwear if they were the Emperor's New Clothes....

Is anybody listening out there?

Far be it for me to suggest the NHS is not quite as good as it might be, but then, I am only a humble user of it.
I have a thingy growing above my lip ( no, its not a mustache) and I have had a couple of similar " lesions" removed before now ( chin, earlobe) because they get in the way and eventually start getting nicked when shaving and bleed everywhere.
So I popped along for my appointment at the brand spanking new Victoria Hospital in Glasgow this morning.
It's a fantastic building. The only problem was they forgot to connect the drains which set it back a few months...
At the appointed hour ( 08:50) at Clinic B there was no one to be seen. I nipped next door to Clinic C, and when I said there was nobody about, I was met with a shrug of the shoulders.
About 09:10 a wee wumin asked if I was waiting for anyone. I showed her my appointment letter. She looked at me. She went behind the desk got a file out, read it, then pointed at a cubicle.
" In there and take your top off - Doctor will be along shortly"
Now I did think it a bit strange that I had to take my top off, but hey, they are the professionals.
After another 10 minutes or so, a very dapper gent arrived with a file, opened it, read a line or two, shut it, then prodded me in the ribs.
" Hm can't see anything there. Where is it.?"
" Where's what?"
" The growth on your rib - is it internal?"
Now there were three possibilities that leapt to mind. Either there was someone else needing a lump cut out of their rib ( and I was damned sure I wasn't going to let them do that to me) or my own doctor had sent other details.
Or the person who had taken the details from my own doctor was deaf - they are forced to employ people with various disabilities nowadays to meet their PC quota.
" Er actually it's not me with the rib problem. Mine's on my LIP."
" Nothing like a rib. Wait here."
He came back with the wee wumin who turned out to be his nurse.
A general discussion ensued which established
a) I was the patient they were supposed to see.
b) It was definitely my rib that was the problem - as per their paperwork.
I kept pointing at my lip, but the doc went on about the exploratory operation I would need before he could be sure about the lump ( what lump?) and how to deal with it.
" Look," I eventually said," There's nothing wrong with my rib. Are you going to look at my lip or not?"
" NO," they said in unison. " That's not in our targets"
" Right, I will go away and start all over again."
" Well that means you will have refused treatment," said the wee wumin, severely, " and when you ask again to get your lumpy rib taken care of we will be within our rights to refuse treatment."
As I left, I heard the doc say " Well that's our target for lumpy ribs met anyway."
My only worry now is that if I ever DO have a problem with my rib, I may die of it before they will deal with it.

Jawohl Mein Hauptbannfuhrer!

Word on the Street is that Germany will not lend Greece one cent - so says the German finance minister.
A snippet has reached me, however, that a " cash for asset" deal might be done.
You may recall that one of the other times the Banks got it completely wrong about sovereign debt, the only way to solve it was for the Banks to take over part of the infrastructure of the defaulting country. This was known as a menu, and would include eg the electric company for a $billion or so - things were much cheaper then.
Of course, this suited the defaulting countries perfectly. A year or two down the line the government would change, usually non-democratically,and the new government would re-nationalise whatever it had previously swapped. In the meantime, the taxpayers in the western banks had effectively paid the sovereign debt off, because it was written off by the banks on day 1, hence a fall in profits, hence no tax payable. Very neat whirligig.
So we are probably fast approaching a similar situation. A little bird tells me that Germany and Greece may be discussion the sale and leaseback of Corfu. In fact, this won't raise that much cash because Germans own most of Corfu ( along with Majorca, Crete etc etc) already.
What it does do, I think, is point out how far Germany's desire for " Lebensraum" has moved in the last 70 years or so.


After all, the last time they wanted a bit of space they didn't sign a cheque - they launched Barbarossa.
I have to say, I can't think that all the stunning blond girl's hearts will beat as fast for a chap signing an enormous cheque as for a Panzer Kommandant.
Mind you, you never know....

Tantra

You may recall we are attempting to do something with some of our domain names which involved linking to a dating site.
Having rootled about a bit, we found we owned www.datingtantra.com, and duly sent it off for approval.
Back came an email which basically said "I never heard of tantra so I looked it up and I don't understand a word. What do you mean by it?"
Now the one thing I am really really good at is talking as if I know what I am talking about. Acutely aware that if I mentioned "Sex" or " Sex at Oxford and Cambridge" ( I believe that increases your Google traffic) we would get the name thrown out, so I came up with the following:
"Tantric teaching is all about channelling energy within yourself to achieve higher levels of peace and spiritual calm.Our idea is that people should look to find soul mates who are reaching towards spiritual union. It comes from the Sanskrit word meaning " to weave".Part of eg tantric meditation consists of visualising an ideal eg god or goddess, and uniting with them in mind, body and spirit , a process likened to courtship. Our civilisation's idea of "The One " is VERY much of relevance here."
You have to admit that sounds pretty romantic. Certainly the young lady you was reviewing our application fell in love with me on the spot. Fortunately, she lives in America......

In praise of SNIFFEM

Many many years ago, there was great debate throughout academia as to whether or not History was Art or Science.
I can't now for the life of me remember which side won, but I do know I had to give a paper to The Headmaster's Discussion Group on the subject. The main point of the Group was the sherry beforehand and the port afterwards. Most papers were heard through the sound of schoolboy snores or hiccups.
The best one ever was by a chap who I seem to think was called Kerry Dixon, who produced the one and only paper which had people in fits of laughter. It was, as I recall, a tongue in cheek critique of pop-music. Naturally, given the august members of the Group, it was supposed to be damning. Naturally, because he was a bit of a wag, it was full of double-entendres and red herrings, and earned him nul points from the Headmaster. Naturally,we all thought it was great.
But back to History.
I read ( amongst other things) History at University, and to this day I enjoy historical biography and histories, in particular those about World War I, on which I consider myself a bit of an expert.
Today, I had a meeting with a chap who is wanting to set up The Scottish National Film Museum , which would include not just the archive, but artifacts and all sorts of other things - including HISTORY. I think the acronym SNFM ( pronounced SNIFFEM) is particularly apt.
His take on the subject?
" History is made by the people who bother to turn up." In fact, that's pretty true.
UPDATE: This is post 1001, which I rather like.
PS: We own a domain ( canalboattrader.com) which is blacklisted by Google. Why? Because the letters ANAL appear in it. Sigh.

Legalisation

For reasons too difficult to go into, I spent Thursday as The Prisoner, of Port Merion and Patrick MacGoohan fame, or perhaps as Kafka's protagonist in The Trial.
How, you may ask, did this come about?
Well, if I tell you I had to go to The Legalisation Office in Milton Keynes, you will surely understand.
At first I was fairly jaunty about the whole thing, but as the looming, faceless, un-differentiable buildings towered over me, I felt the dead hand of the State descending.
As I entered the relevant building, I was handed a number - 074. Thereafter, the whole time I was there, I was addressed as "Number 74".
The stern lady, when I presented the papers, assured me that no such person existed on her database, but if I had a name and address and a telephone number she would see what she could do.
Needless to say, because the relevant person was in Scotland, faxes flew back and forth, together with copies of passports and certifications. But I and my fellow numbers just had to sit there, with no comfort and no information until our numbers were called. Two of the people who had been there before me ( " Numbers 71 and 73 ") were told their papers were not acceptable. The lady broke down and wept. Not a flicker from the other side of the bullet-proof glass. The man just trudged away sadly, presumably to get the papers done again.
The numbers above me were called and allowed to leave. Then " Number 74" - no please or anything.
" That will be £28 please"
" Er, is it all OK?"
" I'm not allowed to say."
" Well what's the £28 for then?"
" You have to pay it."
" Yes, but what for?"
" You have to pay it."
I proffered Scottish notes. With a very dirty look they were accepted.
Another half hour went by, and " Number 93" had already been and gone, when " Number 74" came round again.
A piece of paper was shoved out.
" Sign where indicated" I didn't argue.
She went away again, and came back a few minutes later with my darling papers duly Legalised!
I escaped into the lowering sleet - it felt like nectar on my lips....

Getting the correct perspective.

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...

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."

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...

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."

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.

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"

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.

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!""

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?"

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.

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.....

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.

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.

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.

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...

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."

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....

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

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.

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.

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...

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....."

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.