All posts in category: Life

Drip drip drip, my patience is going down the drain......

June 30, 2016
Entertainment/Media/Arts Friends Kids/Family/Relations Life Technology
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Why...

Do the smallest actions by some cause such heated reactions from others? OK so watching some guy pick his spots while at the traffic lights is not the best way to start the day, yet for another motorist this morning it actually infuriated her so much she honked her horn. Maybe she was an unemployed beautician who took offence at his do-it-yourself work depriving her of a living? I regularly strike up an argument with traffic lights that I am certain go green only for three nanoseconds the way I want to travel but stay red for at least a decade to allow the other traffic to slide by quite freely. My wife on the other hand takes the view ‘that's life’ and why do I complain?? I then point out she would rather play hopscotch on a mine field than go for a swim in the sea (she doesn't like swimming in deep water) so she has no reason to pick on my own bête noires. Off we go, pointing out things that only drives one of us crazy and is water off a ducks back to the other. People with earphones that leak hiss like maniacal cicadas have the same horrendous effect on me as fingernails scraping down a blackboard for my wife.

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I'm not sure your nozzle fits my hole.....

Why...

Is there conformity in some things and not in others? It's present in the probable heart attack in-a-sac in mass produced food outlets but not for example in fuel. In a world where a Big Mac tastes the same in Pittsburgh as in Phuket or McNuggets (to my mind) seem always to taste like batter-covered erasers no matter how stoned or drunk I used to be when eating them, gas pump hose size and colours change over a number of countries faster than a floating voter's mind. I recently rented a car in California. I stopped to refill. Because the rental agency decided to remove the manual it took half an hour to find the fuel cap release button (utterly pointless thing). I then noted neither the fuel cap nor flap said what octane of gas was required or whether the car was even diesel. In the UK and Europe (just in case by the time you read this the UK has voted to leave) gas pump hoses are always green and diesel black. Yup, you guessed it… in the US it's the other way round. However I did not know this, so the green pump (which I thought gas) would not fit the fuel hole, whereas the black pump that I thought was diesel would. The car had no sign or indication if it was a diesel model. I would rather put out my hair if on fire with a hammer, than ring a car rental 1-800 line...... but I had no choice. Eventually (now 90 minutes since arriving on the forecourt) a voice down the cell phone said, "We don't never rent diesel. You just put in the hose with gas. That will fit." Then he hung up. I pondered which hose to use. Eventually a fellow tank filler took pity on me. "You Eng-erlish?" A nod. "Black here is gas. Green is diesel." Eureka!

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The electric drill is not the worst noise on the planet, but it does have a point....

Why...

As I sit in the spring sunshine here in Los Angeles, the City that invented the 'please consider your fellow man's position on everything you do', do I have to endure the insanely annoying buzz of a leaf blower? And for hours, not a few moments! No one seems to mind! Yet people have been told to take down wind chimes as they are deemed anti-social! It's not as if a leaf blower is a huge labour saving device. Moving leaves by air is counter intuitive, if not plain stupid. Leaves dance in a gentle breeze and take on the movement of a whirling dervish when moved by these things! Sweeping them with a broom is more effective and sooooo much quieter. But it’s manual labour....We do everything to avoid that now.

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Gun certainly.... Drugs step this way.... a Drink, er... Identity card, please.... You want to place a Bet.....certainly not!

May 19, 2016
Life
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Why...

Is America such an enigma? It is a country with deep seated morals; the trouble is some of the morals themselves are in the wrong seats. Let's not even try and begin to get used to saying, Lincoln, Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, JFK, Ronnie......and Trump in the same breath without a trace of irony. I was in the United States for the Kentucky Derby. Their premier Blue Riband racing event takes place at Churchill Downs in Kentucky; a State where they are so horse-mad that the Bridal Suite is spelled Bridle and comes with a saddle and stirrups. As I watched an endless parade of semi-celebs with purse string smiles and IQ’s to match their shoe size on TV, I thought I would at least liven up the festivities with my host at home watching the event with a party of friends, by offering to place a bet for everyone. God, you would have thought I had farted! A room full of people and no one was putting on a bet with actual money! So the least I could do after downing lethal Kentucky Mint Juleps (a bit like gorgeous breasts....one is not enough and three too many) was to offer to place bets as a thank you all round. I went on-line and tried to log on to my UK bookie account at Ladbrokes. Blocked. Puzzled I thought there was a problem on the site and chose another UK betting site Betfair to open an account with. Again, the computer would not let me. I called the number. "Are you trying to bet from the States?" I confirmed I was. "You can't. It's restricted. You have to bet there. Good bye." Yup you got it. "Furnerz cahn't place bets ah-brawd, " drawled a helpful voice from the party from the assembled throng. "Havta' bet on track, in Vegas o-ar owwwn line with ah Yu Ess bookie." In the U.S. you can download porn that would make your teeth itch, but God help you trying to make a bet abroad on a legal gambling web site run by a publicly listed company. Not to be defeated I simply went to the web site of the betting company that had paid a humongous amount to be the sole off track bookie for the biggest horse race on the American calendar. Step forward www.twinspires.com. Well I try to fill in the form but it needs my US zip code and social security number. I rang their help desk. "Excuse me, I'd like to bet on the big race." "Sure sir. What's your account number?" "I don't have one." "Please go on line to set one up." "I can't." "My apologies sir, are you partially sighted? Let me put you through to opening an account by phone." "I can't because I don't live in the USA. I'm visiting. I don't have a zip code nor social security number. I have credit and debit cards, passport visa...." "Well sorry, sir. Non Americans can't bet." That's it! Who is the genius that decided that any visitor from abroad (the Chinese will bet on the number of audible 'snack crackle and pops' in a bowl of cereal) is excluded from betting on their greatest horse race? It must cost the betting industry $100s of millions of dollars over a year.

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The end is NEVER nigh, so why tell me it is.....

Why...

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Bits of Blighty that drive me batty..... but I'll miss

Why...

As I waive a fond farewell to my friends, I ponder on some of the idiosyncrasies of this green and pleasant land that I shall miss..... Well firstly it's green because it is constantly watered. The global drizzle that has engulfed the UK over the past few years has had me checking my elbows and knees in the mirror to make sure my joints have not gone rusty. Yes I know that in flaming July in Malta when it is hot enough to poach an egg in my underpants I might miss the grey skies. So in case rose tinted spectacles appear on the bridge of my nose, I have kept a photo on my phone as a reminder. It is of my garden in June last summer when an Olympic diver could have performed a pike with a double twist off my roof and landed on the lake that now covered my flooded lawn and barely touch the grass below, even with an elegantly extended arm.

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Hello ♫ I love you ♫ won't you tell me your name......in about two hours

Why...

Are airports so keen to look in my shoes and up my nostrils in the name of security, yet seem blissfully unaware how many customers (please note that word) who all arrive at the same time and are faced with only a couple of immigration officers. On far too many occasions I have stood in a queue of several hundred people as immigration kiosks are as empty as a bookie's stand at the end of a race day. After an hour or so a few turn up, ambling along looking with a mixture or surprise and contempt at this sea of humanity that has been made to wait. Why are plane loads of people arriving all at roughly the same time from Australia, Nigeria, Japan and Canada a surprise to the airport immigration staff? I assume air traffic control were aware they were coming. Likewise, the men who get the gangways ready, or even the drivers of those electric carts who collect the infirm or infamous. Every airline sends a manifest with the list of passengers to the arriving airport so the receiving immigration and custom officials can chose at leisure whose cavity they want to probe. It's an utter farce that after 15 hours on a flight you then have to wait two hours to get through immigration....even worse when you are returning to your own country. If those responsible cannot organise a smooth well-staffed immigration welcome how can airports and government agencies convince me they ensure my safety going out?

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Good-bye-eee, ♫ good-bye-eee, ♫ baby dear wipe a tear from your eye-eee

Why...

Do we keep and attract clutter like so many nuts and bolts to a magnet? Humans and stuff we collect are like goldfish. The bigger the pond (or in human's case house) the bigger the (goldfish) amount of clutter gets. If anyone is still looking for Elvis, Shergar or Dr. Joseph Mengele, there's a very high chance they are in my loft along with a fine collection of roller blades, hula-hoops, a Pet Rock, a vast selection of jeans that are waiting for me to lose weight.......and a trunk full of CDs. My wife and I have been clearing out as we prepare to leave the UK.

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Beep ♫. I am sorry you have passed your sell by date

Why...

Do we insist on putting meaningless sell-by dates on foods? For example, honey does not spoil. Indeed some amphora of honey were discovered in a burial tomb in Egypt and the content was perfectly edible. The golden liquid was put in the jar centuries before the founders of Tesco or Safeway were an itch in their father’s underpants. My supermarket salt has a sell by date on it. Doh! Whether it came from the Red Sea or the Bay of Biscay it has been round for longer than you or I. My wife and mother –in-law are obsessed by sell by dates and won’t have a word said against them. I am sure if I put a bunch of rocks in a bag with a sell by date on them and left them in the fridge, they would be gone on the appointed day! I try to explain that if this time frame argument had any validity we would all be paying more for a 2016 California Zinfandel than a fusty old 1945 bottle of Petrus, let alone US$225, 000 for a 1787 bottle of Margaux.

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Is it true love, or are you being checked up on?

Why...

Are we so naïve when it comes to love in the modern world? The other day I was standing at a tube station as a young couple waited for a train. The two were locked in a passionate embrace with much hoovering of tonsils and wandering hand syndrome. As the tube pulled in the girl broke away with a sob and boarded. Her paramour stood on the platform tearfully waving the train goodbye. It was quite touching. A minute after the love of his life left, another girl popped out of the waiting room. “Has the bitch gone?” she asked as she grabbed the young man’s hand and they ran to the exit and no doubt a waiting bed! Not a tearful farewell then from our lothario but just checking for certain one girl had left and was not coming back for a while. But I’m convinced the pretty girl on the tube will definitely find out. We all leave far too many electronic echoes of what we get up to. The digital age may indeed open up the possibility of flirtations on the side with everything from Grinder to Ashley Madison but I assume those very things also make it nearly impossible to cover those infidelities up. Your Satnav will have an entry to some love bolt hole and your credit card bill will show charges for a restaurant. Have you even tried to pay in cash recently for a meal? They look at you with more suspicion than a customs officer greeting a plane load of students from Colombia. Your partner can easily see phone bills and notice those tell-tale unknown recurring numbers, read your email and see friends’ updates on Facebook (my wife while proofreading this added that last one- enough said). Your partner will flick through your text messages and photos if you leave your phone lying around. Top prize for being a dummy goes to Congressman Weiner for taking pictures on your phone. Now your wife needs to check up on that as well!. Though why any young lady would want a photo of a gentleman’s sausage if he was actually called wiener only demonstrates the clarity of modern phones photography or the sad lure of being a politician in today’s America! Everything you do is traceable and if you lock a partner out of that data alarm bells ring so loud your hearing gets affected.

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Never drive behind someone sporting a wide brimmed hat…. and other vital rules of the road

Why...

Are certain driver types clearly a danger to themselves and others? As I drive along our crowded streets I find I have some consistency at whom I am invariably shouting at. Women or men in wide brimmed hats should be given a very wide berth indeed. They are constantly checking themselves in the rear view mirror without paying any attention to the cars snaking behind them for five miles as they trundle along. Their sole priority is to maintain their well turned out appearance. Any Uber Driver seems oblivious for the need to move at the maximum permitted speed limit but rather they glower and prod at their Satnavs, talk on their mobile to clients they cannot find whilst opening yet another air freshener. Nissan Micra drivers always seem to have a passenger with whom the driver is constantly arguing; hence the car swerves like doing the rhumba. However as the combined ages of the two passengers invariably exceeds a century and a half, the swerving is conducted at speeds a stray tortoise would have no trouble avoiding.

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Save the planet…. but lose your mind

Why...

Is stupidity forgiven if it's environmentally acceptable? I accept plastic bags seem as indestructible as Donald Trump (and equally need to be done away with) but why in all that's holy am I not offered paper bags in UK supermarkets as an alternative. I either leave juggling unpacked groceries like I am auditioning for Cirque du Soleil or made to feel like I must sit on the naughty step as I have to pay for another plastic bag I don't want. On top of that staff from Safeways to Selfridges are getting very gun-shy at asking customers to pay for plastic bags that many want to now put over the check-out staff’s head!

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Congratulations on your forward planning! No one wants to buy a car, ‘Och Aye’ means ‘Nay’ and Tibet's treasure will rule the world!

Why...

Do Western Governments think no further than the next sound bite and company executives are unable to see past their annual bonus and the specifications on their next BMW? We need to understand that long-term planning is more than just remembering to set the TiVo or Skybox to record every episode of Homeland. Former Chairman of the People's Republic of China President Chou En Lai was asked once what he thought of the 1789 French Revolution. He replied "It's too early to say." Take cars. For my generation a car was aspirational on a number of levels. Along with total independence and the sheer exhilaration of driving was added the heady mix of sex and cool. We had no mobile phone, let alone Facebook, so you had to physically visit people in your car. When you did, normally the only chance of 'hooking up' was in the back seat, so 'the cooler the wheels, the sexier the heels'. My and millions of other's youth was full of parked cars that wobbled like jello and was why Lucifer had a bumper crop of souls from 1949- 1990. We gladly traded them for four wheels. Three generations drooled at the prospect of owning a car....and behind it all stood behemoths like Ford, General Motors and Chrysler down to (then) independents like Ferrari, Maserati, Lotus and Lamborghini. All employed a zillion people in their own businesses as well as the countless ancillaries from advertising agencies, tyre companies and design studios to the local gas station and body shops. Now everyone seems taken by surprise that the current generation are not really interested in cars; sales in the developed world are plummeting and we are heading towards automotive employment Armageddon. How could this be??????? A suggestion? Maybe something to do with the fact over the past twenty years successive Governments have made motoring as appetising as a waiter sneezing over a burger? All the fun and skill of driving has been replaced by mad costs, nannying computers and insane road planning. Roadworks stretch into the horizon and traffic police spend three hours investigating a mild knock of two cars in rush hour. Insurance companies treat kids with one minor infraction on their license as being as dangerous as Kim Jong Un with a migraine. George Orwell could not have imagined the level of surveillance, nor Creusus the level of tax on fuel and the Maquis de Sade would have quivered at the endless constriction of traffic jams. SPEED KILLS is flashed everywhere. Speed never killed anyone. Stopping does. The Government (and so mass media) took sex out of cars.......and are now panicking that no one wants to buy them. Did anyone for the teensiest moment think or say... "OK, environmentally we need to tighten things up, but maybe turning one of the largest employment sectors in the world into a pariah might make Mr. Magoo's short-sightedness look like 20/20 vision?"

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Ding Dong, can I purge your soul and dry clean your wallet?

February 18, 2016
Life Work
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Why...

Am I asked to give to a church which solemnly predicts the end of the world is nigh? No long term benefit for me, and clearly the money not much use to them! Last week my door bell rang and a young couple looked up at me all doe eyed youth. " Vous parlez Francais (you speak French)?" To which I replied in the affirmative (My mother was French). We live in a section of London with quite a few French families who have fled to escape President Hollande's financial guillotine and I assumed these two were lost and needed someone who spoke French who could help them find where their friends were. "Vous avez la paix. ...Are you at peace?" Nope, not lost tourists, but a couple of Jehovah's witnesses seeking to convert any escaped countrymen! That is really pushing hope well past the door of reasonable expectation. Successful proselytising in a foreign country but in your native tongue is as likely of being successful as a tap dancing oyster. "Un instant .. Wait a moment" I replied disappearing into the basement. I reappeared wearing a horned Devil's mask and holding a pitchfork, (taken from our Halloween party box). The young couple understood that I might be playing for the other team and left fast enough to make Usain Bolt blush.

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Don't talk on the phone while I am interrupting…….

Why...

Is it if I’m on a call, my beloved wife can occasionally mouth to me “Who is it? What do they want”? If I manage to answer those questions while at the same time still talking to the caller, she inevitably continues with, “Tell them this… that… or the other…” I end like a United Nations interpreter relaying messages between the two of them. however if I attempt to do the same thing to her, a raised finger of admonition accompanied by a glare that actually lowers the room temperature reminds me it's not a good idea.

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WHAT SIZES DOES STUPIDITY COME IN?

Why...

Are the numerics on sizing so bizarre? In my hand I am holding something that extra small is still 7 inches and extra extra large is 11 ½ inches. Nope, it’s not my gentleman’s sausage, (you all have brains like sewers) it’s a glove and refers to sizes. Do you actually know yours, let alone what it refers to? You’d think at least it might be to do with length from the longest fingertip to wrist? Nope. The number is the circumference of your fist…. which is why as I have long fingers, gloves always hang on my finger-tips and end halfway past my second knuckle joint like long johns ending at my knees. It leaves my wrists perfectly exposed to get frostbite. As far as I am concerned any idiot who says what I have on ‘fits like a glove’ means it sticks out in five places.

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These people charge like the Light Brigade…

Why...

Do I meekly accept additions or extra costs that are beyond the ridiculous? I have just returned from a business trip in Europe. In Germany, a one day charge in my room for Wi-Fi access was 35% of the room rate!! Dry cleaning and laundry at the same hotel meant after two washes I had paid for the price of my underpants! The owner of the subcontracted laundry service must also be a major launderer of cash. To add insult to injury I hired a Sat Nav with my car rental the next day in Italy. It was an old dilapidated Garmin that had not had any updates since Caesar built the roads. I found myself on the screen driving over fields when actually I was hurling along a new motorway. And the cost of renting this stone-age piece of technology cost more in a week than the machine itself! Airport Parking. Not being a fully qualified Codebreaker I am afraid deciphering airport tariffs are beyond me. Some are so complex you need Stephen Hawking sitting next to you to work out what a day’s parking actually costs. Download warnings. Whenever my iPad or iPhone gets a note from my operator to say I am near my limit when abroad, I simply turn them off. I have learnt to my cost that no matter if I agree to a new bundle of tariffs, put the thing in airport mode or just run it over with a tank, the phone and Pad still manage to ratchet up charges that soon become the size of a small nation's national debt.

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It's called Christmas, dummy!

Why...

Do a number of people apologise for the name Christmas? Happy Holidays, Season's Greetings, Compliments of the Season, etc. are all wishy washy phrases meaning 'I’m embarrassed or made to feel guilty if I say Merry Christmas’. I don't expect Diwali, Hannukah, Eid, Kwanzaa, Parinirvana to change their name, so why does Christmas have to? What possible offense does the celebration of the birth of a leader of one type of organised religion cause? The birth of a religious leader is a common celebration in many other religions and they cause me no offense. I am not a deeply religious person but that does not mean I don't enjoy the Christmas holidays. However I at least acknowledge the derivation and honour it by giving the holiday its real name. I am equally happy if lots of people from other creeds choose this moment to celebrate Peace on Earth and exchange presents, give to charity and the homeless; just let’s be honest about it.

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The Pre-nag. Conversation’s elegant skewer

Why...

Do we all leave ourselves so wide open to that most deadly of conversation assaults; the pre-nag? The pre-nag is a seemingly innocent question that no matter how you answer, the follow-up will get you. Let me demonstrate. When my wife asks innocently, “Brr, it’s a little chilly. Are you cold?” Whatever I reply, ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘a little bit’, I am screwed as the next line is “Did you leave the garden door open again after taking the dogs out?” This sin of course is something she has clearly already noted. Checkmate. Of course we both know I left the door open. But to prolong the ticking off, it is much more satisfying for my beloved to make me squirm a little first, knowing the initial question is a set up for the killer blow. My life is littered with pre-nags. “Have you heard from Bette-Anne?” When I have forgotten to give her the message that her friend has rung and has clearly rung again, spoken to my wife and told her I had failed to pass on the message. “Have you got your glasses?” when we are in the taxi, she having already picked them up from the table at the restaurant we were eating at: “Have you been recently been on Facebook?” when an old flame has contacted me.

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A pot of tea? Do you want that with first or second degree burns?

Why...

Is enjoying tea time now an obstacle course filled with things that want to kill us or poison us? Firstly take the stainless steel teapot so beloved by British Rail and tea rooms full of characters from an Agatha Christie thriller? Where do we start? Well, the steel perfectly transmits the heat to the handle, so it’s bloody hot. In addition this handle so close to the pot you can hardly hold it. Brilliant! Even with a napkin wrapped round the handle to prevent baked fingers, my knuckles still brush against the pot giving me the first set of burns. The second set follow soon after as I drop the damn pot with a yell, blowing on my burnt knuckles. The spilled tea then obligingly runs along the table into my lap causing more burns on a very delicate part of the anatomy. After hobbling off to the bathroom to put a cold compress on my nether regions, the waitress cleans up the mess and returns with yet another hand-grenade of tea.

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All posts in category: Life

Drip drip drip, my patience is going down the drain......

Why...

I'm not sure your nozzle fits my hole.....

Why...

The electric drill is not the worst noise on the planet, but it does have a point....

Why...

Gun certainly.... Drugs step this way.... a Drink, er... Identity card, please.... You want to place a Bet.....certainly not!

Why...

The end is NEVER nigh, so why tell me it is.....

Why...

Bits of Blighty that drive me batty..... but I'll miss

Why...

Hello ♫ I love you ♫ won't you tell me your name......in about two hours

Why...

Good-bye-eee, ♫ good-bye-eee, ♫ baby dear wipe a tear from your eye-eee

Why...

Beep ♫. I am sorry you have passed your sell by date

Why...

Is it true love, or are you being checked up on?

Why...

Never drive behind someone sporting a wide brimmed hat…. and other vital rules of the road

Why...

Save the planet…. but lose your mind

Why...

Congratulations on your forward planning! No one wants to buy a car, ‘Och Aye’ means ‘Nay’ and Tibet's treasure will rule the world!

Why...

Ding Dong, can I purge your soul and dry clean your wallet?

Why...

Don't talk on the phone while I am interrupting…….

Why...

WHAT SIZES DOES STUPIDITY COME IN?

Why...

These people charge like the Light Brigade…

Why...

It's called Christmas, dummy!

Why...

The Pre-nag. Conversation’s elegant skewer

Why...

A pot of tea? Do you want that with first or second degree burns?

Why...