16 April 2012 (Monday) - Stuff

I took a fresh a box of cereal out of the cupboard for brekkie this morning. The box was huge; at first sight I thought that it would last a while. I opened the box and realised the truth. Whilst the box was over half full, it was certainly less than two thirds full because either the cereal had settled in transit, or the packaging was designed to make you think you were getting more for your money. Admittedly the box had the content's weight written on it, but when I opened the box to find it was nowhere near full, I did feel somewhat short-changed.

And so to work; after I'd scraped the ice off of the car. It's now mid April and still we are having frosts. Yesterday I bought a replacement ultra-violet light for the fish pond filter, but with the nights still being so cold I am rather loathe to turn the pond filter back on. But I will have to do so before too much longer.

Today at work we had a great idea to save the government money and to reduce the national debt. A radical review of health provision in the UK; anyone requiring the services of the NHS from now on will be issued with a plaster. If their malady can be treated with a plaster, then they survive. If they are so unwell that their recovery is dependent on more than a plaster then they can go private.

The NHS is thus saved expense, and the nation's books are out of the red. So far I have not found anyone who can argue with the fiscal logic behind this plan.

Admittedly on an ethical basis it sucks fish, but in these austere days one can't have everything. Or anything more than a sticking plaster in the New World Order.

Meanwhile back in reality I got given my shifts for the next few weeks, and realised that I might need to change some plans I'd made for the next few weekends. It's not really a problem: there's nothing in my diary that I couldn't change easily enough. If any of my loyal readers were planning to walk with me from Appledore to the Isle of Oxney, or couldn't because the date was inconvenient, it might be worth checking the date again. I've changed it.

As some of us celebrate (if that is the right word) the centenary of the sinking of the Titanic, it's perhaps a sad indictment of our society that quite a few people don't realise that the Titanic was a real ship. A sizeable minority thinks that the whole Titanic story was something made up for the Hollywood film.

In the same way, quite a few people thought that the Apollo 13 film was rubbish because in real life the astronauts would never have survived what happened.

Surely it speaks volumes about our society that people cannot tell fact from fiction.

15 April 2012 (Sunday) - Visiting Relatives

For no reason that I could determine, the womenfolk of the family had decided to go visiting family in Hastings today. With nothing else to do, I'd said I'd go along with them. So after checking the Internet to see what was new in the world over a spot of brekky, we set off. Or that is we set off once the most recent  fruit of my loin told me to put some pants on.

First of all to Westfield to visit my father-in-law. He's been incredibly supportive of my oil painting venture just lately, and we had a good chat. One or two ideas for subjects for future paintings, and he's suggested I might have a word with a local restaurant or hotel about exhibiting my paintings with them. The only problem is that I can't think of anywhere locally which might be interested.
If any of my loyal readers have any suggestions, I'd be all ears.

And then on to my brother's house. We found him outside painting it. Regular readers of this drivel may recall my whinging about the price of beer last week. My brother told me that the pub just up the road from him charges five pounds for a pint of lager. Five pounds!! And then my brother recited a list of pubs in the area which have closed down. At a fiver a pint, it's hardly surprising.
We stayed a while, Sid and Razzle (my dog-niece) either played nicely or fought; opinion was divided on what was happening. We exchanged insults and plans, and all too soon it was time to move on. I was conscious of forever chivvying the girls today; but with a list of places to be and a deadline, someone had to chivvy them.

To my brother-in-law's, where the most recent fruit of my loin obtained her second free phone of the day. She seemed to be collecting phones for no adequately explored reason. The out-laws are planning to go to an organised camping site in a few weeks' time. At nearly fifty quid a night I thought they were paying over the odds, but I suppose that is the going rate.

And then on to see my mum. Dad wasn't in: he was down the beach. He loves that fishing club. Mum was pleased to see us, and wasn't in the least put out when Sid's fart gassed the house out. That dog seriously needs some charcoal biscuits.

We said our goodbyes; four visits in four hours was (I thought) quite good going. And we set off to Folkestone to deliver the most recent fruit of my loin to its lair. I disagreed with the sat-nav on the way home and we went via Camber rather than via Brenzett. Looking at Google maps I'm not sure that I was right to have done this, but it made for a more scenic route for those of us who stayed awake to appreciate the scenery.
We got to the Admiralty, had a tiddle, and promptly set off again. Time was pressing. We gathered in some of the catalogues we didn't get yesterday. Today I banged on doors to ask for catalogues back. At seventy five pence a throw they are too pricey to write off. We got back more than I was expecting that way.

And then home. Whilst my beloved boiled up some scran I sat in front of the telly checking out the Internet on my lap-top. There was a huge crash at the front door, and the living room door burst open. Fudge stood in the doorway. He looked at me and I looked at him. After a few seconds I said hello to him, and he leapt over the lap-top full into my face. The first fruit of my loin followed Fudge into the room. They'd been to "Pets at Home" and had spoken with the resident vet. Fudge is to have his "boy bits" removed. We are reliably assured that this will be a relief for all concerned. Except for Fudge himself, I expect....

14 April 2012 (Saturday) - Aldington, Twilight

I have a theory about insomnia. If I need to be up early, I don't sleep well. With no reason to be up with the lark I was expecting a good night's sleep. I had a terrible night. The reason - I could be wrong, but I blame the demon drink. We had a bottle of Chateau eu de Chat with tea last night. Two glasses of the stuff and I felt wrecked when I went to bed. I woke after four hours sleep feeling physically knacked and lay awake feeling grotty till 8am. I have mentioned that I am considering giving up the drink. As well as the ever-spiralling cost which I resent paying, the day after hurts too much.

The weekly weigh-in: another pound lost. Since I started taking note of what I've been shovelling down my gullet I've lost four and a half stone in weight. I am quite literally only three quarters of the man I once was. Is this the legacy of having cut out the drink?

A quick spot of brekky, a quick zoom to Beaver Lane to collect Fudge, and then back home to meet the Bat. And then, pausing only briefly at the bookies to back a horse that would lose the Grand National, we set off to Aldington. Last year me and my beloved took a stroll round the countryside round Aldington on a route suggested by our AA walking guide. It was a good walk, and we always intended to do the walk again. Today fifteen of us (and four dogs) met at Aldington village hall and set off on the walk. For a large part we followed the Saxon Shore Way. Up hills and down dales; across fields and footpaths, along lanes and bridleways. Picnic-ing in  the sunshine. The scenery was wonderful, the company excellent. We were out for nearly three hours - and as always there are photos of the outing on Facebook.

I can see from the Internet that on that walk I burned off (about) six hundred calories. Back in the bad old days, having the walk finish at a pub would have seen me going into that pub. And as well as having stodge and chips, I would have had three pints of ale. And those three pints would contain (about) six hundred calories. Clearly this is where I've gone wrong in the past. For all that I've been physically active, I unwittingly counteracted any benefits of exercise with the beer. Not any more (!)

We then took Fudge home, and collected the catalogues that I posted on Thursday. And home where I slobbed in front of the with the most recent fruit of my loin. Whilst I posted photos onto Facebook we watched episodes of South Park. Quality !!!

And then to Lidl's to stock up with essentials before the Saturday night film-a-thon. Tonight we watched two of the Twilight films. Watch-able enough, I suppose. The trouble with the Twilight films is that once you've seen one, you've seen the lot. No real plot, just soppy nonsense featuring some bimbo which can't decide whether to pork a vampire or a werewolf. It's an interesting enough premise, but stretching the idea over five films is thrashing the idea somewhat...

13 April 2012 (Friday) - Mixed Messages

You have to admire the sensationalism of the press. Take this headline in today's news - "Do night shifts really give you diabetes?" The implication from that headline is clear. The implication is that working night shifts is really bad for you. The article starts off with some quite serious scaremongering, and then gets a bit wordy, then goes on some more, and then, quite a way after everyone has given up and gone off elsewhere on the Internet, the article ends with saying "However, given the highly controlled nature of this study, we cannot confidently say whether these results would occur in everyday life". So clearly night shifts don't give you diabetes, but the possibility of it makes for a good news story. I'd expect more from an NHS website. 

And in other news, whilst leading scientists warn that no more coal powered power stations should be built in Scotland (or anywhere) because of all the carbon emissions, protesters are up in arms about wind power.

Meanwhile spare a thought for those of my loyal readers who've come home from Spain with chickenpox.... We're not gloating very much...

12 April 2012 (Thursday) - Stuff

With a day to myself I could probably have done more with it. A spot of brekkie whilst the washing machine did it's thing, and then once I'd hung out the washing (leaving Sid and the most fruit of my loin in residence) I set off on a catalogue drop. I had planned to mow the lawn, but it was still rather damp: I thought I might mow it later.
Unloading catalogues  to the punters didn't take long, and so once back home I did my weekly search round employment agencies web sites. I probably applied for about two dozen jobs. Will anything come of it? Possibly: I got one personalised email back from an agency, and two phone calls from others. Here's hoping. By the time I'd been through all the employment agencies in my list my stomach was rumbling: it was gone 1pm.

A sandwich and an apple and I settled down in front of the telly. Over the weekend I'd borrowed a DVD compilation of old episodes of "The  Goodies", and I watched the giant kitten, the beanstalk, the crown jewels. I'd been warned that the episodes probably weren't going to be as good as I'd remembered them, but I was pleasantly surprised by the antics of  Tim, Graham and Bill. I had planned to mow the lawn, but a sudden downpour and thunderstorm put paid to that plan. Which was a shame, really. Instead I slept through episodes of Star Trek on the Sky Atlantic channel. A shame there are so many adverts; but you can't have everything.
Once I woke I activated  my lap-top and did a few on-line surveys; one of which was about writing a will. Did I think wills  were important? Should everyone have one? As the survey went on so I realised I was being somewhat hypocritical. I hadn't got a will.... Well; we drew one up years ago. It's now very much out of date, and lost as well. So I've stuck a will here. There's a link to it above. I've done a bit of research and I think that what I've done is as legally binding a will as any I would pay someone else to produce for me.
It's  quite simple, and being on-line here means it can't get lost and I don't have to  pay banks and solicitors to look after it for me. And being here, anyone who feels they have a vested interest in my estate can contest it with me directly, rather than squabbling about what my wishes were after I've croaked.
It sounds quite morbid really, but I suppose  it's something that needs to be sorted out.

The first fruit of my loin came home and clumped about the house for a while. Apparently he's in the throes of building a kennel for Fudge for when Fudge is in the garden. Talking of whom, Fudge is in trouble - he's eaten his collar.
And as he (the first fruit of my loin; not Fudge) went off on a mission so his sister (and Sid) returned, and we made vague plans for the weekend, as well as vague talk of a weekend in a caravan next year; which would be nice.
My beloved then phoned to say she was going out on the razzle with he mates and that I should boil myself up some scran. Whilst thinking about what scran I might boil up I wished that I'd taken up a friend's offer to go to the Wetherspoons curry night, and I worked on my novel.
Did I mention I'm writing a novel? It's  something that's been  at the back of my mind since the early 1980s. It's about.... well, to be honest I don't really know what it's about. I've always had this idea of how three characters might interact, one of whom isn't your average character. The trouble is that I have characters, but not plot or  title. However I have four pages and vague interest from a local publisher, so here's hoping something will come of it. I'd like to think that Hollywood will snap up the book once I've written the obvious successor to Harry Potter and the Twilight series. But realistically I know  that authors far better than me have not managed the success they deserve. I suppose, like with my paintings, that if I can cover my costs and my public is happy with what they get, then I will have achieved success.

11 April 2012 (Wednesday) - Light Pollution

As I walked across the car park this evening I saw Venus bright in the sky. There's not a lot of light pollution in the direction I look in as I walk to my car. And talking of which, here's something I've been saying for a few years:

Light pollution is getting so bad that it's not possible to see most of the night's stars. Most parts of the UK are unable to see two thirds of the stars visible in places like where we have the astro club (we didn't pick it at random, you know...)
But we knew that anyway - didn't we? I've certainly been ranting about this for some time. It seems odd to me that well-known established facts are presented as "news". I suppose it's a sad reflection of our times that few people actually go out to look at the glory of the night sky these days, and those that do venture abroad after dark are more concerned that there be a decent amount of illumination so that they don't get mugged.
Amazingly some twit on the news this evening tried to claim that cars are more likely to break down in unlit areas.
 
And talking of spacey things, it would seem that a (relatively) nearby star has more planets than our sun does. The star HD10180 has (at least) one more planet than our Sun, if you don't count Pluto. It's quite amazing that we can detect planets round other starts really. It's something I never expected to see in my lifetime. I wonder how long it will be before we actually send people to them...

10 April 2012 (Tuesday) - The News

Having pretty much wasted yesterday doing absolutely nothing, it now transpires that a good friend of mine who lives but a stone's  throw from my house went geocaching round the neighbourhood yesterday. Geocaching involves using sat-nav  technology to find message capsules which have been left by other geoocachers. As he geocached on his own he felt he needed company, and further felt that I would really enjoy geocaching. In retrospect I don't think I would have liked being out in the rain yesterday, but I do like the sound of geocaching. That might just be something to do over the summer.

On the radio today the top news story was the amazing fact that the Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne has said he was shocked to discover some of Britain's wealthiest people pay virtually no income tax.

At the risk of appearing cynical I think the pundits have missed the point of this sorry tale. Surely the shocking part isn't that those with money are tax-dodging. That's not news - it never has been. Those with money understand money, and know how to squander, fritter and spend it in such a way that it isn't taxable. It's us mere mortals who get stung for tax. Always was; always will be.
The shocking part of this story is either that the Chancellor is so thick that he really is shocked by the news (and I can't really believe that), or that the Chancellor has made a news story out of something that realistically has been known for years. And if he has done so; why has he done that? What is he playing at? Are the Tories declaring war on those who traditionally have funded them?

Meanwhile boffins are planning to mature whisky on the International Space Station. Apparently they want to see if and how fermentation can work in zero-G and to see how the resultant whisky will taste. One thing's for sure - it can't taste any worse than Earth-brewed whisky.

Talking of the ISS, commercial rocketry firms who are competing for the contract to supply NASA with spacecraft are almost ready to send their rockets to the ISS. Apparently they might launch as early as 30 April - three weeks away.
Mind you, Frank Culbertson (a former astronaut) says things could go wrong. That's encouraging...