Thursday 10th January 2013

The week slips by and we find it is Thursday with even half of that having already passed.

Once home last night, I refilled the bird table with seeds and peanuts, scattered mealworms on the ground then went upstairs, got changed and went for a session on the cross trainer. I am enthused now that my back does not ache much at all now, and I don’t want to go back to walking around all hunched like an old man.

Anyway, I do half an hour, with Scully laying on the spare bed, apparently thinking when is this bloke going to stop so I can get some decent sleep? The poor love had just had dinner and needed her power snooze.

Anyway, so after I cooked dinner (chorizo hash), we sat down to watch Brian Cox, Dr Brian Cox on TV where he was going to run through the last 13.7 billion years of creation, and where the Corby Trouser Press fits into nature’s grand plan. Or something like that. So, we were sitting there, looking at the science-porn on TV when I noticed some movement in the front garden.



And there, eating away from the bird table was a fox. We daren’t breathe, as Jools was only about four feet away from it, but with a window in the way. But the fox knew we were there and just carried on eating. In time it wandered off, only to return half an hour later and finish off what was left on the bird table. And to think we were excited when a badger came, now we have a fox.

Can’t wait until the local elephant comes round to hoover up some peanuts……

And then this afternoon I was told by my boss I would no be doing menial jobs like i did on the last project, oh no, i will be managing my own little army of mini-mees, giving orders and generally being a pain in the bum. Or maybe I won't have anyone to 'manage' but it sounds cool to me; being valuable means not being sacked.

Wednesday 9th January 2013

On Monday afternoon, Mark Radcliffe said on his radio show on BBC 6music, that the one thing he wished for this year was hearing something new from David Bowie. Oh yes, the Thin White Duke, wonder what he is doing now, we pondered and then moved on to thinking about something else.

I got up Tuesday morning, and over breakfast powered up the laptop only to find the twitterverse going bonkers. January 8th is Bowie’s birthday, and with no warning he has recorded a new song. Which is going to be the new single. And there is a video for the single. Which you can watch now. And the single is taken from the new album. Which is out in March.

I clicked on the link, and there is the video and watched it through. Typical Bowie, cut up lyric, odd video. All about Berlin. I’m looking forward to hearing his song about Grimsby though.

Anyway, the major news outlets were told at seven, and they went crazy; even Radio 4 played the song. They got Robert Peston to talk about it. Because we want to know what he has to say about the record. In fact Today was still banging on about it this morning.

Although it was clearly a major event (in music), it wasn’t earth-shattering, it isn’t going to make us all feel richer or cure cancer. And in truth, rather than being one step ahead of the crowd, it seems a step back; produced by Tony Visconti, it seems to be more a Low era recording than Earthling. However, it is a new Bowie song; he is alive, looking well if older, which applies to just about everyone, even Cher.

Elsewhere, it has been much the same as ever. I did manage to get to work yesterday with the wrong set of key, so not able to get into my desk to work. *Sigh* So, I drove home, got the right bunch and drove back. The second trip into the office was fine, just with lots more traffic.

I am getting back into the fitness thing, two nights already this week on the cross trainer, and I think I feel my back getting better. Although, Scully does not seem to appreciate having her main snooze of the day interrupted by me singing along as I pump lard. I just have to make sure I keep it up now.

The BBC held the first of two specials on starwatching last night, and in the great tradition of such things it was wet and cloudy the whole two hours; looking down, Sir Patrick would have smiled as this affected him on more than one occasion.

The Coalition government is just over halfway through its 5 years, and after declaring that everything was ‘OK’ in a joint press conference, Dave and Nick sounding more like a couple about to go to relate. On Tuesday, a vote was taken in keeping benefit payments down to a 1% rise over the next three years, this meaning those claiming will be suffering a cut in real terms. This comes after tory after tory chastised strivers over skivers, saying that those in work should not have smaller increases than those who are not. Turns out that just 3% of the benefit budget is spent on the unemployed, and fraudulent claims account for just 0.3% of all claims, yet the war on the old, sick, disabled and out of work goes on and on. And sadly the LibDems look on, mute, with just a rebellion by two MPs who voted against. I guess it must look good in the Editorials in the Torygraph or the Hate Mail.

Tuesday 8th January 2013

Have you ever Googled your name?

For the John Smith’s amongst you that is a pretty pointless thing to do, because how would you know which one was you? What then for those of us with a more unusual name?

I am such who is blessed, or cursed, with an unusual name. A quick Google search will reveal just the two of us; there is one who is a person who does charity runs, rates double glazing installers and is ‘looking for new challenges’ on Linkedin. Then there is me: international Playboy and Quality Expert, photographer, music geek, blogger and freelance booze rater.

The other guy only came on line in the last 18 months, so if you look through Google much of that stuff is me; all the albums on Amazon I have rated, the booze I have rated, comments on the BBC website and all the other stuff I did before I grew up and joined the adult world and left the RAF!

Take the name John Harrison; which of these below is John?

The inventor of the marine chronometer,
The baddie in the new Star Trek film,
JT i sued to work with at RAF Coltishall,
HV SAP on the Thanet windfarm project?

Answer is all of them or course. And I am sure that if I were to Google John Harrison I would find many, many more. I'm sure there are even more John Smiths than there are John Harrisons so they don't have the problem I have that when they Google their own name they will usually find someone else, whereas I Google my name and I find myself. Or the other bloke.

You will also find my online name I use on most sites; I share that with a type of fishing lure; so it’s either me or fish bait! The alternate spelling version I sometimes use is because I forgot my password using the original spelling back in 1999 when setting up my first e mail account; I ten got control of that back when the time limit ran out.

I mention all this stuff because, as was pointed out on a Radio 4 show last night, the internet does not forget. Everything you have ever done online is still there, and not just in the place you did it, as it is backed up on servers all round the planet. And it is very hard to get it deleted. Very hard. Delete it in one place and it lives on somewhere else. Although my Facebook account has been deleted, it still exits somewhere as it shows up on the first few pages of a Google search, so I guess Facebook does not delete all their data, and might even be keeping it. Potential employers now do a trawl online to see if what you might have said in your application was true, or what you really get up to in your time off.

What is clear too is that if someone writes something untrue about you, there is very little you can do about it. You might be able to get it deleted if you have the cash to take it through the courts, but it is probably searchable from Google.com rather than Google.co.uk. The question is, or the point is, should the internet be allowed to ‘forget’.

If it is to be allowed, then what should it have to remember, i.e. not be allowed to be deleted. Anyway, you can listen to the show here for the next 6 days: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01pnn4m

Tales of winters past

It is the beginning of the first week of January and outside all is grey, dull and mild. I think this winter we have seen one morning of frost and not a hint, at least in Kent, of snow. There can be no little doubt about that winters have been getting milder over the years. And anyway, I got thinking about the most severe winters Britain has had since the war.

1963 was the one my Mother told me about and how bad it was; looking at the Wiki entry, it suggests that December 1962 was cold, with snowfalls through the month, but it began in earnest on Boxing Day. More snow arrived on the 29-30th, with drifts in the west country some 20 feet deep. January was the coldest month in the 20th century. The sea froze for a mile at Herne Bay in Kent for a mile; Mum also said that the sea froze at Lowestoft. Fears were expressed in Parliament that the Straits of Dover might become blocked with ice.

February saw more snow and gales to drift what snow was laying.

It finally broke on March 6th with a thaw followed by severe flooding.

In 1947, it all began on the 21st of January. Snow and gales swept the country, and even the Scilly Isles were under 7 inches of snow.

February was one of the coldest months on record; the ferry service between Dover and Ostend was suspended due to pack ice(!) In some places, snow fell for 26 out of the 28 days in the month. Coming so soon after the war, food was still rationed, and rations were reduced to below war levels as root vegetables were frozen in the ground. Coal could not be moved on the railways, power was restricted to 19 hours a day, TV was suspended and radio output, reduced. Newspapers were reduced to just four pages and many magazines stopped production.

In March one of the worst blizzards of the 20th century occurred, which left drifts up to 7m deep in places. The cold finally broke on March 10, which brought major floods, and the disruption meant that humanitarian aid had to be supplied to parts of Britain.

I guess my point is this; we are so used to mild winters, no disruption to transport or power that we take it for granted. And yet it can bite here, and can be severe; and can be again. Our food is now transported from one end of the country and back again, most freight goes now by road which is more prone to disruption. It will be interesting to see how Britain coped with such winters in the 21st century. It is estimated that GDP was down by 10% just because of the cold; imagine what that could do to a Britain trying to emerge from a double-dip recession…….

In other news we spent the evenings last week watching documentaries on Queen Victoria and her children. They showed two first about her daughters then sons. She was really shockingly horrid to them, judged them on their looks first, and how like Albert they were. As for their daughters, she seemed jealous of them, and once Albert died wanted to keep as many of them by her side. And all the while writing to all of them criticising them, berating them for perceived weaknesses. Quite how any of them emerged from behind her shadow mentally intact it amazing. But they did, for better or worse.
The last one was on Victoria’s childhood and succession to the throne, and how her Mother and ‘advisor’ tried to steal power that would have come to Victoria had she got the throne before she was 18. That she turned out so similar to her Mother is really quite sad, but all this is possible to discuss as most letters were either kept of transcribed.

I guess this was the last time there was anything like a battle for the crown, and the scheming that could go on in the background; a real game of crowns.

Sunday 6th January 2013

Hello and welcome to the lark dark teatime of the soul. Or that is how Douglas Adams would have put it, over here at Chez Jelltex, we have been smashing bathrooms. there really is no better feeling than taking a hammer and GS (screwdriver) to bathroom tiles in preparation for the decorating!

Yes, after some four years living in the house on the cliffs we are going to make our mark on the house by getting a new suite, painting the walls, getting a new carpet and getting rid of the bath once and for all.

Its funny, but as this house by far the largest bathroom of any house I have lived in, we are going to create more space by taking the bath out, extending the shower cubicle by maybe 300mm and putting in some shelves! But it should look great. And painting the walls a funky red instead of the eggshell blue they are and ripping the MDF seasfloor scene that the previousowner left.



Though in truth, Jools has already done that, rip out the MDF I mean. So, it is looking, how shall we say, a little untidy. But, yesterday we did go and pick out a shower cubicle, this follows close on the heels of the new toilet and sink we bought during the week. The shelves are on the way from Ikea-land, I think they are called SPARSAM or something. (you should head to http://www.flavorwire.com/225706/the-most-ridiculous-ikea-product-names-and-what-they-mean to see how stupid names can be). Anyway, we even have chosen a floorcovering. And we agreed on pretty much everything; oh yeas, I forgot about the funky tiles we have chosen for the shower; it's going to look great.



Anyway, that took up much of the morning yesterday; meeting the plumber/bathroom guy, ordering everything, heading to Topps Tiles and both liking the first thing we saw when we walked in the door. That's not how its supposed to be, is it? Or that how it should be, unlike the hassles couples normally have when choosing colours and things.



After all that spending we headed to Sandwich to pick up a picture we have had framed; rock and roll. A friend took a flight over St Margaret's, and snapped our house, so he gave me a copy to have printed. And once our our way to Sandwich we both realised we were quite hungry, so as soon as we parked the car we headed to The Crispin Inn for a bite to eat; but the menu looked so interesting we ended up having a meal; lamb shank for Jools and steak and Stilton pie for mee. It was wonderful, and the beer was excellent too.



Afterwards we had a wander round the town, ended up and No Name Shop for more cheese and fresh bread for dinner. And then back via the framers and back home. That afternoon, once back home, I snoozed on the sofa listening to the football; City won at Peterborough in the cup 3-0, and after that, I scanned more family photographs.

And so ended Saturday.

Sunday, we were up with the sparrahs again at half seven; maybe we have this lay-in thing sussed now? Clearly, nature had not listened to the BBC weather forecast and was clear blue (and pink) skies as the sun rose; so we headed to the memorial to feed the birds and snap them.



It was just the usual suspects: jays, magpies, blackbirds, chaffinches, robins, dunnocks, great tits, coal tits and small tits; but it is great just to be so close to them when they come down to feed. And sometimes we get to snap them too, if we're quick enough.



And back up to the cliffs to look at the sea mist and snap the ferries as they come and go. In fact we had been there earlier, as on our way down to the monument, we saw the mist with the sun just rising above it, and it looked glorious. But by the time it took to drive to the National Trust's place on the cliffs the mist had burnt off. This took no more than five minutes.

Thursday 3rd January 2013

And so the new year continues with the 3rd following hot on the hells of the 2nd; who’d have thought it? Well, those Muppets who really felt the world was going to end on the 21st, like when the guardians of all mankind’s knowledge, The Mayans, did, or didn’t, predict the world would end or was that just the beginning of another long count?

(Have I killed or mortally wounded out mother tongue with the paragraph above? There seems to be a lot of commas in it, too many perhaps. And a semi-colon. Oh well)

The New Year fitness thing has been still-born, as my back has been playing up. Seems that too much cake and turkey sandwiches really mess with your digestion; who knew? So, a crash course in fruit, fruit and more fruit seems to be working. Anyway, we still have about a third of the second cake, plenty more mincemeat for mince pies and sausage meat for rolls. Rather than eating them every day, one a week or something, perhaps?

Being a new year has meant we have seen the sun for three days in a row; at this rate the country will have dried up by the time summer comes round again.

We have bought a new toilet and basin for the bathroom, will buy the new shower tray and door thing this weekend, and we are now discussing colours for the walls and tiles. All exciting stuff I’m sure you’ll agree.

I have to admit, that coming into work yesterday was not easy; dossing around at home, watching TV, messing around on the computer or just going out to take pictures is so easy, and something I could quite happily carry on doing that the rest of my life. I think, therefore, I should start doing the lottery again and in the unlikely event we win than that plan, and “operation travel the world photographing it until its pips squeak” will be on.

There is some good news, today is Thursday and Friday is looming on the horizon, which means more non-work related stuff.

Wednesday 2nd January 2013

I used to spend New Year’s Eve with my grandparents as Mum and Dad would go out to frug the night away, or whatever they did in the 70s. It was all drugs back then, I’m sure. When I used to ask to stay up to see the New Year in, Grandma would say that there really was nothing to it, you watch the clock move round to midnight, then carry on as if nothing changed.

For once, she was right. Over the years I have spent the evening in pubs, clubs and once, even on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. All of them were either spent in a drunken haze or in Edinburgh, frozen solid and unable to find a toilet.

In the 70s, New Year’s Eve would be passed watching Andy Stewart celebrate Hogmanay. Now we have Jools Holland, Alan Carr or some other such TV show to watch. We usually watch Jools, or Piano Blokey as it is fun to call him. Anyway, after the debacle in the Red Lion a couple of years back, New Year is to be seen in at home, on the sofa, with Jools.

New Year’s Eve dawned grey and windy, but would soon turn to what the previous 364 days will be remembered for; rain. It is funny, but in spring a drought was declared in the south of England as there had been so little rain the previous 12 months, and since then it really hasn’t stopped. The drought was lifted sometime in the autumn, probably as most people were bailing their houses and gardens out for the tenth time that year. Or something.

We didn’t get it that bad, not so much rain, and what we do get drains well into the chalk. But our gardens have suffered with too much rain and a plague of snails and slugs. The hedgerows were pretty bare this autumn, the crop of sloes failed almost completely, and so we made no sloe gin.

Once it was light we headed down to Shakespeare Beach to see the waves crashing ashore. The wind was so strong it was hard to stand up at times, but it was worth it as the wind howled and the waves crashed onto the beach and along the Prince of Wales pier. Once we were damp with spray, we headed back home for more warming coffee and another slice of Christmas Cake.

We had some stinky French cheese we had bought in Sandwich before Christmas, as well as some cheese puff things I made with some left over pastry. And beer; lots of beer.

I spent the rest of the afternoon scanning family photographs, laughing at some long-forgotten scene captured on film; dancers frozen in time or a cat in mid leap.

And so the afternoon waned into evening, darkness fell on the last day of 2012. It’s funny, most Christmases, no all Christmases, I think of my two friends, James and Chris, who were killed in 1984 in a car accident, or the moment in 1999 when I walked out on my second wife and her son, or that last Christmas I had with Dad before his heart attack in 1995. But, none of these events crossed my mind at all, not until I realised I had not thought of them. I think they are replaced by newer, better times. Its not that those events matter less to me now; they were major if not earth shattering events that marked massive changes in my life and my growth as a person.

Bad things can happen any day of the year, there was a massive crash on the M6 on Christmas morning; we read the headlines and the details and wonder what their families will make of these events. I remember watching an episode of MASH where they were trying to keep a soldier alive until midnight on Christmas so his family wouldn’t link Christmas to the death of their son. In the end they couldn’t, but changed the date on his death certificate.

We passed New Year’s Eve quietly, and put Piano Blokey on at eleven fifteen. He had various great acts on, including Petula Clarke, who at 80 has a new record out. She sang a version of Gnarls Berkley’s Crazy, and it was wonderful, well worth seeking out when the record comes out. She did a version of Downtown, of course, which is one of my favourite songs, and her version is by far the best. She does good for being 80. Adam Ant was also on, with a new band, and they cut the place up with a new tune version of Antmusic and Stand And Deliver. However, once can’t help thinking his use of a latex dressed backing singer and a voluptuous peroxide female drummer, was this to take attention from Adam who was sporting a fetching Napoleon style tri-cornered hat, in order to hide his bald head. But, he was in fine form, and that is good to see.

And the clocked ticked towards midnight, we raised a glass of Madeira, watched some more of Jools and went to bed.



New Year’s day dawned bright and with a clear blue sky. After bacon butties we went out for a walk along the cliffs in the sunshine. It was glorious, and for half an hour we lay in the long grass looking at the sky in the weak sunshine. Below us waves lapped on the base of the cliffs and ferries hurried to and from France.



That night we watched the delayed version of the new Year’s concert from Vienna; as there is no better way to celebrate the new year than with a waltz.

Happy New Year, everyone. Have a good one.