Category Archives: ramblings

National Pet Month

As promised this is the first of, I hope, many posts featuring “National Awareness Days”. Well this is a whole month! So with the promised a few days warning I give you…

National Pet Month, which runs from 1 April to 6 May — so an extended month.

The aim is to help

  • promote responsible pet ownership across the UK
  • highlight the important work of pet care professionals
  • highlight the importance of working companion animals
  • help raise money for the nation’s pet care charities

As their website says:

Pets give us so much love and companionship, now it’s time to repay that kindness […] Pets make fantastic companions and so when it came to choosing our theme for this year companionship had to be top of the list. Increasingly studies show that pets really are good for our physical and mental health.

You can find National Pet Month online at http://www.nationalpetmonth.org.uk, on Facebook and on Twitter.

Personally as part of this I shall be supporting one of my favourite charities The Cinnamon Trust, who work to help the elderly & terminally ill keep their pets (for example by walking dogs for those who can’t) and caring for the pets themselves when the owners are no longer able to look after them.

New Series: Awareness Days

Just to add a little something more here I’m going to try running a series of posts highlighting some of those less than usual “awareness days” which seem to be all too common. You know things like “Take Your Pet Gerbil to Work Day” and “Crocodile Wrestling Week”. (I bet somewhere both those exist!)

There’s an awareness day for pretty much every day, week and month of the year, so there is no chance I’m going to try to cover them all — even if there were somewhere where you could find them all easily. So what I’m going to do is, in the spirit of this blog, try to bring you some of the less usual and wackier days as well as a few more mainstream ones. Not just charitable ones, but anything which is going to provide a bit of fun.


For instance I’m sure we’ll feature British Sausage Week
when it comes round later in the year

What I am not, in general, going to cover is anything which is not UK-specific or worldwide; nor anything medical (there are just too many) or religious; nor anything too overtly big corporate or hugely well known. Hence you’ll not find Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Autism Awareness Day or Christian Aid Week — worthy those these may be. I will also mostly not be covering (children’s) book and literacy days as these are already being covered by my friend Katy over at Making Them Readers.

Many of the days I feature, plus lots of others, can be found at www.national-awareness-days.com. But I hope to include others as I learn of them — so if you know of any please leave a note in the comments or drop me an email.

I will also try, though I won’t promise, to mention the day/week/month a few days before it occurs, so you have a little time in which to find out more and see if there are events etc. near you. Wherever possible I will include a link to the awareness day’s website.

Well that’s what I’m going to do. It is an experiment, so it may or may not work; but if we don’t try, we won’t know.

The first of the posts for April coming up soon.

Thoughts on my Cat

Harry the CatThoughts on my Cat

He shares my space, though he imagines it his
He sleeps with me – a warm plush purring pillow
He sleeps on my desk, to stop me working
He shares my meals, but not I his
He consoles me when I’m ill,
And helps me in the garden
He gets high on his catnip toys
He is self-cleaning and autonomous
He forgives me when I rebuke him
Returning only unconditional love
He invites me out hunting with him
And brings me back presents
Could one desire more?

Will Save Lives

I’m getting really totally fed up with the rubric that

Doing A will save X lives

Just this morning the Daily Telegraph has given us

Minimum alcohol pricing would save lives, says Tory MP

FFS, once and for all … NO IT WILL NOT!


Let’s get this one straight — for better or worse, none of us is immortal, hence lives cannot be saved.

What you mean is: Doing A may postpone X deaths. Which is rather different, innit.

Pet Hates

I’ve been writing this post, on and off, for a long time. So now it’s got to be a bit of a long rant. And I’m going to subject you to it anyway. Well it’s my blog, so there! Sorry!

Pet hates. Things which always irritate or annoy you, wherever, however and regardless of how well intentioned. They might be small things, or big things, but we all have them. Here are a few of mine …

What Will the Neighbours Think? I don’t give a flying ferret what the neighbours think. If they don’t like what I do then too bad. I’m unlikely to be doing anything illegal. And if they think what I’m doing is immoral then it is clearly they who have the problem because I wouldn’t be doing it if I thought it was. Remember Allen Walker Read: Obscenity lies not in words or things, but in attitudes that people have about words and things. Same for (im)morality, dislike, distaste and all this other dis-es.

Net Curtains. I have nothing to hide and nothing much worth nicking. I like light; indeed I need light to combat the SAD. And I like to be able to look out of the window. So we have no net curtains at home, neither do we normally draw the curtains after dark. And the first thing I do in an hotel room is to work out how to open the net curtains (and if possible open the window) and let in the light and the air.

Muzak. I detest background music: in shops, pubs, lifts — anywhere, even at home. It is pollution which clogs up brain-space to no useful effect. If I want to talk to someone I don’t want to have to shout over muzak to make myself heard. And if I don’t want to talk I want quiet to allow my brain to think and concentrate or just free-cycle and relax. If I want to listen to music I’ll listen to what I choose, when I choose. But fortunately I can tune out a lot of muzak, as long as it isn’t too loud.

Unnecessary formality. Formality, like etiquette, is bogus and unnecessary. I’m not a fan of ties, nor of jackets and even less of suits. I have never worn a DJ/tuxedo in my life and I’m not going to start now. And as for morning dress and top hats … Bah! Humbug! I’ve always known people by their Christian (given) names and not as Mr Bloggs or Mrs Mopp, nor as Aunt or Uncle, unless the individuals themselves insisted. Let’s be genuine and not hide behind false Dickensian obsequiousness. If I’m good enough, you take me as I am. If you don’t care to then you’re not good enough. Informality rules. Who was it said, Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.

Being expected to take part. Aaarrrggghhhh!!!! Run away fast! This was one of the banes of my working life. There were always work events that one was expected to go to. You all want to go out for Christmas lunch? Fine you go; if it is convenient I may come, but I’m not travelling 50 miles at my own expense to do so. I don’t much want to socialise with the people I work with all day, even if I do like them. Don’t we see enough of each other? No, I’m not going to the annual dinner/dance. Yeuch! And the more you expect me to the less likely I am to go. If I want to go, I’ll go. If I don’t, I won’t. I’m my own person, not a company man and I always had a life outside work. And if management doesn’t like it well too bad. I wonder why I was never seen as management material?

Lying. We are never, it seems, these days told the truth. Let alone the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Everyone tells us what they think we want to hear or how they would like it to be. Look at what goes on around you. Politicians lie to us. Advertisements lie to us. Businesses, all businesses, lie to us. Religion lies to us. Shopkeepers lie to us. Call it “distorting the truth” if you want to be mealy-mouthed about it, but basically it is all lies, PR and marketing. There is an increasing culture of lying. People lie to their insurance companies — either they don’t tell them things, or they make what are basically fraudulent claims — and they’ll admit it to you. “I said I was hurt in that crash to get some compensation, but I wasn’t really” or “Oh I didn’t bother declaring that to the tax man”. Some cultures are worse than others; some have a basic tenet that they will tell you what they think you want to hear, regardless of whether it is true.

Bad Manners & Service. If you’re going to work in a service industry, indeed if you’re going to live in society, learn some customer care and to be polite to people. It isn’t hard, but you do have to accept that everything isn’t just about you! You are always going to have to tell people bad news. Be polite; say “I’m sorry”; and you will be forgiven a lot by most people most of the time. What annoys people is either being lied to (see above) or being told nothing. Yes, it is something you have to learn. It isn’t easy to learn to say “I’m sorry; I screwed it up” but there are times you have to.

Older people get a bad rap for saying things badly or out of turn, when they should know better. Often they do know better but can’t help themselves. Apparently what happens is that there is a control mechanism in the brain which stops us saying whatever stupid thing comes into our mind but rephrase it before it reaches our mouth. As we age this control mechanism breaks down and the words spill out before the control mechanism engages. It doesn’t make it easier when you’re on the receiving end, but at least it is medically recognised.

Speaking Lifts. Lift going up. B****r off! First floor. Doors opening. Yes, I can see the doors are opening! OK, OK, I know that it helps the visually impaired, but that doesn’t mean it can’t annoy me. The Sirius Cybernetics Corporation™ has a lot to answer for! Glad to be of service. Have a nice day. Aaarrrggghhhh!!!!

People Who Don’t Think. It is suggested (I think there’s research behind it but I can’t find the reference) that 5% of people are unable to think; 5% can think and do so; the other 90% can think and don’t bother. The 90% cover their tracks by making assumptions. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Either that or they swallow whole the opinions they’re spoon-fed, usually by the media, politicians or religion. This itself involves a big assumption: that these proponents are always right. Not only do people not think about what they (purportedly) believe, they can’t even think about the possible consequences of their own actions.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I seen scaffolders lobbing scaffold clamps to each other, even dropping then to a mate 5 floors below, without hard hats. Surely someone of the meanest intelligence (and many scaffolders aren’t) can see what damage a scaffold clamp dropped even 2 floors would do to their skull. But no. They can’t — or won’t — think about it.

OK, that’s maybe a slightly extreme example, but this afflicts nearly everyone. If people thought about the consequences of what they say and do, they would behave a lot better. For a start they would drive a lot better; they wouldn’t weave in and out of traffic, cutting up other motorists. They get enraged when others do it to them but cannot see what they themselves are doing.

People have no concept of putting themselves in someone else’s shoes; or of considering the effects of what they say and do. Yes, we all do it; it’s hard not to at times. I feel sure it’s part of the spectrum of autism, albeit a long way from the full-blown syndrome.

People Who Assume I Think Like Them. Following on from the previous item, most people make the big assumption that, whatever we are discussing, I (indeed everyone) must think the same way they do. The trouble is, invariably I don’t. I give them some novel twist on the subject. And the response? “Oh, I never thought a
bout that” or “Do you really think so?” or “But that can’t be right”. In other words it doesn’t accord with their blinkered world view. People have different outlooks on life; learn to live with it. And learn too that sometimes people wind you up with silly alternative views to make you think, shut you up or just for the hell of it!

There’s one of our friends who will learn one day that if he is too inquisitive, or makes too much of an assumption, he gets a crazy answer from me. He dropped me the other day at my osteopath’s. My osteopath is also my hypnotherapist. When he picked me up 2 hours later he assumed I had had 2 hours physiotherapy. I pointed out, wickedly, that he was making an assumption and that for all he knew I’d been shagging the guy’s wife — or daughter — preferably his daughter. This scenario has been repeated several times, and he still hasn’t learnt!

Rant over. Your turn!?

Dates

One for the pedants amongst us from today’s XKCD


ISO 8601 also defines:

  • use of the Gregorian calendar
  • dates are of a fixed number of digits, so leading zeros are required
  • the week begins on a Monday
  • week 1 of the year as the week with the year’s first Thursday in it
  • and similarly for times.

There’s a full discussion of the ISO 8601 standard on Wikipedia.

By way of an apology …

The last week has been just so busy, hence the total lack of postings.

I’ve been putting the quarterly Anthony Powell Society Newsletter together for the printers — although I’m not the Editor, I am the in-house production team, sub-editor etc. etc. As this is the 50th issue — something I never even dreamt of achieving — it is a larger than usual issue, so has taken more time. Why is it that proofreading — proper, detailed proofreading — always takes so long? Anyway the Newsletter should go to the printer over the weekend after a final check-through.

However the bulk of my time during the week has been taken up with writing what has turned into a 40-page report for my GP’s Practice. A couple of weeks ago we, the Patient Participation Group organised by yours truly, helped run their annual patient survey. And of course I stupidly volunteered to key and analyse the data — well I know I have the skills to do it properly. With well over 500 records of data, the keying alone was no small job. Fortunately all the hard work of calculation I had pre-coded into a spreadsheet, so the bottom line numbers dropped out quickly. But then there were over 600 comments to analyse and turn into possible actions. All of that and more has to be written into a formal report, with tables and charts and a list of actions (with some justification). And every time you look at it something else pops up which really should be included. It isn’t finished yet, but it is getting close and should be with the doctors on Monday or Tuesday.

On top of that I have been trying to take it a bit easy, so I really do get rid of this blasted UTI which came back 10 days ago. It seems to have subsided now. But it needs to stay that way.

Next week is shaping up to be busy again too. Just for starters I have a 40-page report to read, and think about!, for a meeting on Wednesday. The only problem is, I have to find it first, amongst the pile of paper on/by my desk! And there are all the other things I need to attend to which have been out aside in the last couple of weeks.

Will I get to watch the rugby this afternoon? No, probably not … As everyone always says: How did I ever find time to work?

A Load of Old Horse

The UK currently has a problem with horse meat.

Let’s be clear from the outset that there is nothing intrinsically wrong with horse meat per se. Many countries eat horse, just a many countries eat sheep, pig, cow, goat, chicken, rabbit and guinea pig. The immediate problems are that (a) the British have this fetish about not eating horse — despite that many were glad to during WWII — and (b) the horse was being passed off as something it wasn’t, ie. beef.


But let us look deeper, and ask what is the real root cause of the problem — because it is neither of the above.

The problem, my friends, is that the British are bone fucking idle. Josette Public doesn’t cook. Indeed Josette Public probably doesn’t know how to cook fresh food. Instead she relies on buying ready meals. And because she essentially doesn’t care about her food she insists that what she buys is dirt cheap.

So we have some people now preparing ready meals, at knock-down prices. Once you do that, and the meals can be heavily chilled or frozen, they can be shipped across borders so production can happen anywhere. And because most of these meals are essentially made from minced meat, they can contain any old meat off-cut, from anywhere you like, as long as it is cheap. So we quickly establish “meat sans frontières” and a supply chain that spans the globe.

And once the supply chain is thus, it is easy for criminal activity to be perpetrated and for errors to go unnoticed. Unless I am going to do a lot of rigorous testing I have only my supplier’s word that what he ships me is what he says it is — and so on ad infinitum. And am I going to do that testing? No of course not; I can’t afford to as the supermarkets insist on the lowest possible price.

And all because the lady basally doesn’t give a flying wombat — until she does, when she creates a stink not realising she is herself the underlying cause of the stink. She facilitated the whole mess.

If Josette Public bought fresh meat and cooked meals from scratch, she would (have to) take more interest; meat would need to be sourced from closer to home, and the shortened supply chain would make surveillance and quality assurance easier.

In this instance, as in many others, I’m afraid the British are their own worst enemies. And if you want the root cause if that? Once again I blame Harold Wilson.

Five Questions, Series 3

OK, so … we’re going to do the “Five Questions” routine again, just like we did a couple of times last year. Just to keep us all on our mental toes, you understand.

However series three is going to be a bit different. It is more in the vein of those daft “back page” interviews with Z-list slebs you see in magazines — only hopefully a bit more interesting; maybe more like those really good off-the-cuff job interview questions.

No, don’t panic! You can take this as seriously or not as you like (well you can all of them, but this one especially so) although the questions should still make you think!


The five questions are:

  1. Please describe yourself in 25 words or less.
  2. What are three things about you that most people either don’t know or wouldn’t expect?
  3. Of the things you’ve done in your life so far, what are you proudest of?
  4. What’s an as yet non-existent thing about which you’ve thought “why hasn’t someone created that yet?”
  5. If you could get everyone who reads this to do one thing, just once, what would you get them to do?


Again, like series one and two, I think they’re going to be deceptively tricky. I certainly don’t know in advance exactly how I’m going to answer them all, though I have a few ideas. (It’s called preparation!)

Anyway I’ll answer them one at a time over the coming weeks. The first in about a week’s time. (Well thinking doesn’t come cheap or easy, you know!)

And as I’ve said before, if anyone has any more good questions, then please send them to me. I’d like to continue to do this two or three times a year so good, but potentially fun, questions are needed.

Watch this space!

What Does Your Personal Hell Look Like?

I was prompted a few days ago to think about what really would constitute a living Hell for me. No forget all this fire and brimstone stuff of the (supposed) afterlife. We are quite good enough at creating Hell here in this life.

But on the basis that one man’s meat is another man’s poison, how much would we actually agree on what would constitute Hell here on Earth? Brave New World and 1984 would be a damn good start!

Well this is the start, at least, on what mine would look like.

There is no wine, beer or gin. The only liquids available would be Pernod, absinthe, pastis and … errr … water.

The only foods available are jellied eels, tripe, sweet potato, pumpkin and egg custard.

Everyone is perpetually rude, selfish and unable to speak English. (Nothing new there, then.)

All officials are little Hitler control freaks and over-officious bullies. And then there are the managers!

Basically nothing is allowed; everything is banned, so whatever you do you’re breaking some law or another.

Cigarette smoke clings everywhere.

There are no antibiotics, analgesics or deodorants.

It is cold. So cold I have to wear clothes all the time — because there is no central heating and no sunshine. And all the clothes I have to wear are made of plastic, rubber or nylon.

There are no cats, no birds, no gardens, no trees and no seaside. The sky is never blue. Maggots abound.

I have to travel everywhere by underground or by bus.

All women look like low-class tarts and wear a thick plastic skin of make-up.
All men are shaven headed thugs or greasy oiks — which is about how they behave.
There are children everywhere, screaming. Their batteries cannot be removed and they never run out of charge. They all have lice.

There is no internet nor any cameras — except for CCTV everywhere.

All TV is an endless cycle of inane soap operas and game shows interspersed every 5 minutes with ever more inane adverts.

There are no books and the only music is Mozart.

I’m forced to be homosexual, religious, play golf and put in the army.

I’m sure there’s more … Aarrrgggghhhhh!!!!!!

Why is it much of this sounds so horribly familiar?