It is now two weeks since my second son was born. Time enough to settle into some sort of routine and to realise that he does in fact have a name, not “cutie”, “baby” or “it”! For my wife and me it has been a traumatic few years, two miscarriages, a house break-in and a shift from a life in Taiwan to one in Edinburgh, Scotland. But we have managed and as Ewan Patrick latches onto life’s nipples I can now look outward once again to what is hopefully a new start for my writings.
And what has the world been coping with in the last few weeks, nay months? Some guy called Michael Jackson popped his clogs! Gordon Brown of the UK is still twitching in the “hot” chair and that guy over in America, that Obama chap is still well-liked despite having failed to instantly fix the economy with a flash tap of a rubber hammer on a couple of bent and rusty nails! Further west and into the darker corners of the world where journalists report in whispers and dictators wear unfashionable sunglasses, nuclear weapons are still the topic of the day, China’s GDP continually increases and Iceland still shivers from its recent pummeling as a financial powerhouse!
On more domestic matters it is nice to see that the weather is improving. I nearly booked myself a ticket to the North Pole before the good weather arrived in Edinburgh! The news reports from England (which became victim to a spot of sun before Scotland did) was all of doom and gloom, frail-ancients flopping down by the road side, dogs being cooked alive in locked cars, the possibilities of bottled-water prices shooting through the roof with all but the super-rich being able to afford them and of heat waves that would have us all sitting inside the fridge for dinner and cooking the eggs on top! I managed to stop myself buying that ticket and am now enjoying what has turned out to be a pleasant sunny day – bit like summer has always been really!
I better go and change a nappy – my work is only just starting!
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Mothercare or perhaps Mothernotcare
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A new Dolby (Ewan Patrick) arrived in the world last Sunday - full of bounce and vigor and with a positive attitude towards keeping his mum (I'm eying up the spare room) up all night with childish demands!
And so I went shopping - online of course - for some essential baby items that we had so far resisted purchasing!
Mothercare had everything and so I ordered a cot, a mattress and a steriliser, a start to a new life and beginning for the wee one. The thing is though, I did not realize till the delivery turned up late (I'm still waiting for one part after nine days since ordering) how poor Mothercare was! I complained by email to customer service and was fobbed off by three different people (Debbie, Stephanie and George) who quoted "legal talk" to me and what resembled a snotty apology!
One year ago (or less) my wife went to a Mothercare store in Fort Kinnaird in Edinburgh and had a disastrous experience. The staff where rude, abrupt and too busy talking to take much notice of her. I should have taken note then and never darkened a Mothercare doorstep again.
And I wont. I simply can't be part of what they perhaps see as a cornered market to the extent that customer service is a fob-off experience!
If I had to pick one chain store to go down the drain during this recession then Mothercare would be at the top of my list.
Or should they simply rename to mothernotcare so that everybody knows what to expect?
Friday, June 05, 2009
Shifty-eyed Gordon Brown
Prime Minister Gordon Brown of the United Kingdom may assume that the world is at war and that the general public mostly wish him to wave the white flag and call “surrender”. But is that the right thing to do?
Up and till now I couldn’t have cared less who was in power, as far as I am concerned one politician is as bad as another but recently Gordon Brown has taken poor leadership to whole new depths. His face tells the full story. He barely carries his haggard and sunken, shifty eyed exterior; he depicts a well-dressed prisoner-of-war who snoops and ferrets out camp titbit's for his captors. Slightly better fed than the average prisoner but with a whole lot of things to hide from his peers!
The real problem that the British are suffering under is not as one may assume a Telegraph Newspaper led political scandal that has riveted the world for the last four weeks, nor a weak and inept government that has reeled under an economic crisis that has demanded a leader with stamina and strength but the fact that we don’t really have anybody to follow, today or tomorrow!
Oh, we have many expense-fiddling wild-eyed youngsters who aspire to great heights even if it means ratting and turning against those who have led them by the hand so far. We have many opposition hopefuls who only say “no” when Gordon says “yes” but these are not leaders, not men or women of strength and leadership quality, these are simply well-educated political babies who have no charisma, no faithful following based upon resounding speeches and certainly no proper leadership skills that are so in demand at this moment in time.
Britain lacks a real leader to take us forward and through these ongoing expense-claim scandals and economic recession.
What we have is Gordon Brown, a weak and ineffectual guy who has pulled up the drawbridge of No10 and won’t come out to play. In fairness to the poor man his wobbly heart is in the right place! He only wants to do what he thinks is best for the British people, he wants to be fair and to consider all sides of an argument or problem. Looking back he did act responsibly and quickly when the banks were collapsing faster than the journalists could get to them. He has shown leadership quality albeit in a quiet and unassuming manner but ………. we need a leader Gordo.
There are a bunch of smooth-talking kids surrounding Gordon’s castle and he is inside pickling cucumbers or perhaps throwing speeches into the waste paper bin faster than he can complete them?
Come out my good man! Open up the window and shout from the battlements “enough you pasty-faced whiners”. He needs to lower the drawbridge and to come charging out on his ebony steed, frothing at the mouth and ready for battle, to scatter the hopefuls away like a hurricane attacking a pile of autumn leaves and to say “I am in charge”!
But I guess it’s too late for that now! I wonder which upstart will topple him from his nag.
Up and till now I couldn’t have cared less who was in power, as far as I am concerned one politician is as bad as another but recently Gordon Brown has taken poor leadership to whole new depths. His face tells the full story. He barely carries his haggard and sunken, shifty eyed exterior; he depicts a well-dressed prisoner-of-war who snoops and ferrets out camp titbit's for his captors. Slightly better fed than the average prisoner but with a whole lot of things to hide from his peers!
The real problem that the British are suffering under is not as one may assume a Telegraph Newspaper led political scandal that has riveted the world for the last four weeks, nor a weak and inept government that has reeled under an economic crisis that has demanded a leader with stamina and strength but the fact that we don’t really have anybody to follow, today or tomorrow!
Oh, we have many expense-fiddling wild-eyed youngsters who aspire to great heights even if it means ratting and turning against those who have led them by the hand so far. We have many opposition hopefuls who only say “no” when Gordon says “yes” but these are not leaders, not men or women of strength and leadership quality, these are simply well-educated political babies who have no charisma, no faithful following based upon resounding speeches and certainly no proper leadership skills that are so in demand at this moment in time.
Britain lacks a real leader to take us forward and through these ongoing expense-claim scandals and economic recession.
What we have is Gordon Brown, a weak and ineffectual guy who has pulled up the drawbridge of No10 and won’t come out to play. In fairness to the poor man his wobbly heart is in the right place! He only wants to do what he thinks is best for the British people, he wants to be fair and to consider all sides of an argument or problem. Looking back he did act responsibly and quickly when the banks were collapsing faster than the journalists could get to them. He has shown leadership quality albeit in a quiet and unassuming manner but ………. we need a leader Gordo.
There are a bunch of smooth-talking kids surrounding Gordon’s castle and he is inside pickling cucumbers or perhaps throwing speeches into the waste paper bin faster than he can complete them?
Come out my good man! Open up the window and shout from the battlements “enough you pasty-faced whiners”. He needs to lower the drawbridge and to come charging out on his ebony steed, frothing at the mouth and ready for battle, to scatter the hopefuls away like a hurricane attacking a pile of autumn leaves and to say “I am in charge”!
But I guess it’s too late for that now! I wonder which upstart will topple him from his nag.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
A freezing flight from Newark to Savannah
On a recent Continental Airlines flight from Newark to Savannah.....
They got all the gates wrong so it was 'snakes and ladders' shuttle buses everywhere before we ended up back at square one. Granny, the dear old flight attendant kept us amused after apologizing profusely for the airport staff mixing up left and right! They seemingly often use one boarding ramp for two planes, in this case "L" side were going to Indianapolis and the "R" side to Savannah.
We were told to board on the left side and ended up boarding the wrong plane!
Joe the large man sitting half in my seat and testing the windows strength every time he breathed suddenly decided that he had left his mobile phone in the departure lounge. He jumped up in a rush, hitting his head on the locker above and after trampling on my toes and nearly suffocating me he proceeded to occupy the pilots who were trying to get the plane ready for departure. Lucky we were not in the air as his sudden movements would have had the plane banking sharply to port.
The pilots, bless their soles, took this unexpected situation on the chin and proceeded to follow his instructions in offloading his baggage - he refused to fly without his mobile phone as it seemingly contained all his work, his life and I think every telephone number of fast food joints around the world.
Anyway, we set off late and joined a queue of 20 other aircraft waiting to use the runway. Whilst relishing in having a whole seat to myself and aimlessly staring out of the window I happened to look down and there, nestling in the enormous depression made from a recent heavy weight, was a mobile phone. I couldn't help but picture him staggering and sweating his way around the airport trying to find his life - not a pretty picture but then I couldn't help but see the funny side of it all. The pilots found it extremely funny too, I could here them chuckling away through the door after the granny, the flight attendant, had passed them the message.
Eventually we got away and then the air-conditioning unit broke down. I'm not sure how this works as usually when something breaks down it stops but it broke down in full swing and remained pumping out freezing air for the whole two hours of the flight. I had snow fluttering down onto my knees. Granny told us over the PA that rows 18-20 were building a snowman and that water could not be served as it had frozen over. Beleive me, it was cold - although perhaps after 20 PA announcements in quick order she felt herself on the brink of a new career. Even with a t-shirt, a sweat shit and a fleece on I was still shivering. I could see the girl in front of me shivering as well, but I'm sorry, chivalry was not on the agenda that day.
We eventually managed to get off the plane in Savannah, one hour late. Just as I was leaving the plane granny told me that she had received a call on the man's phone. Dispensing with pleasantries he had rushed straight into accusations of theft and criminal proceedings but when told where his phone was the line went dead!
At least he didn't have to suffer a freezing flight although had he been there I might have been warmer!
They got all the gates wrong so it was 'snakes and ladders' shuttle buses everywhere before we ended up back at square one. Granny, the dear old flight attendant kept us amused after apologizing profusely for the airport staff mixing up left and right! They seemingly often use one boarding ramp for two planes, in this case "L" side were going to Indianapolis and the "R" side to Savannah.
We were told to board on the left side and ended up boarding the wrong plane!
Joe the large man sitting half in my seat and testing the windows strength every time he breathed suddenly decided that he had left his mobile phone in the departure lounge. He jumped up in a rush, hitting his head on the locker above and after trampling on my toes and nearly suffocating me he proceeded to occupy the pilots who were trying to get the plane ready for departure. Lucky we were not in the air as his sudden movements would have had the plane banking sharply to port.
The pilots, bless their soles, took this unexpected situation on the chin and proceeded to follow his instructions in offloading his baggage - he refused to fly without his mobile phone as it seemingly contained all his work, his life and I think every telephone number of fast food joints around the world.
Anyway, we set off late and joined a queue of 20 other aircraft waiting to use the runway. Whilst relishing in having a whole seat to myself and aimlessly staring out of the window I happened to look down and there, nestling in the enormous depression made from a recent heavy weight, was a mobile phone. I couldn't help but picture him staggering and sweating his way around the airport trying to find his life - not a pretty picture but then I couldn't help but see the funny side of it all. The pilots found it extremely funny too, I could here them chuckling away through the door after the granny, the flight attendant, had passed them the message.
Eventually we got away and then the air-conditioning unit broke down. I'm not sure how this works as usually when something breaks down it stops but it broke down in full swing and remained pumping out freezing air for the whole two hours of the flight. I had snow fluttering down onto my knees. Granny told us over the PA that rows 18-20 were building a snowman and that water could not be served as it had frozen over. Beleive me, it was cold - although perhaps after 20 PA announcements in quick order she felt herself on the brink of a new career. Even with a t-shirt, a sweat shit and a fleece on I was still shivering. I could see the girl in front of me shivering as well, but I'm sorry, chivalry was not on the agenda that day.
We eventually managed to get off the plane in Savannah, one hour late. Just as I was leaving the plane granny told me that she had received a call on the man's phone. Dispensing with pleasantries he had rushed straight into accusations of theft and criminal proceedings but when told where his phone was the line went dead!
At least he didn't have to suffer a freezing flight although had he been there I might have been warmer!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A Letter to Hugo Chavez, Venezuala
Hi Hugo
You don’t mind if I call you “Hugo” ? I feel as if I know you like an old friend after seeing you shouting on at least 10 different channels last night.
I think they must alter the volume upward just for you!
Can you tell me something? What is all that shouting really about? I get it, that you have just managed to con a whole nation into letting you stay another decade or two in power but it is all a bit noisy, if you don’t mind my saying so. I saw you standing on the podium with your brain-dead disciples chanting “Si Va” but don’t they know that you couldn’t add 1+1 never mind lead a nation properly? Cracking jokes then singing, I mean what sort of horse did you ride into town on?
I have learnt a few things during my lengthy stay here in Puerto Cabello. The first being that I shouldn’t expect the ship to come into port anytime soon; in other words that the port authorities couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery never mind turn ships around.
I learnt that most of the population are too frightened to say “no” to you and that they are scared to vote for anybody else except you. Our taxi driver certainly doesn’t like you but he keeps his “No Va” sign hidden from view and a red t-shirt to hand should some of your brain dead supporters happen along!
I have also come to the conclusion that your policies don’t quite add-up! I see a glaring and endless hole (the size of a plug to drain the sea) in your speeches and wisdom. No, don’t stop reading, please wait until I explain myself. Most of your support comes from the poor people right? Intellectual and wealthy people don’t really like you but they are in the minority, stop me if I’m wrong! The poor people who are of course the majority vote for you because you promise to give them wealth and hope based upon the money gleamed from selling oil? Am I right or am I right? Where this ‘hole’ comes in is here! If you perchance make all the poor people rich then they enter that bracket of people who don’t really like you very much at all! So the only way that you can keep in power is to keep the masses poor and just dribble them hope in small and useless quantities.
Sorry, I shouldn’t really get into politics as it always ends in an argument.
When I drove here from Caracas and between my prayers to god that I didn’t end up smashed into smithereens like the many I passed (cars upside down, buses squashed like tin cans and lorries sitting on top of rusted hulks as if they had just laid a rotten egg) I noticed how beautiful the scenery is! Lush mountains covered in bountiful greenery! What I couldn’t understand is why all those people who live in shacks and tin-roofed hovels along the motorway don’t take better care of the environment. I don’t know what these precarious ill-fitted jigsaws of houses are like inside but why on earth doesn’t anybody clean up the rubbish! From the doorstep and around the house lie many years’ worth of rubbish and plastic discarded from the broken windows and thrown carelessly outward by those very people who live inside. I understand that it is not easy to be poor but it’s no excuse to live like a dog.
I haven’t left the hotel for five days! My brief foray one day, to the tourist sites, ended pretty quickly when a friendly policeman told me not to walk in a certain direction as it was too dangerous. I started to walk in the other direction but another friendly yet heavily armed policeman told me that it was also unsafe to continue further. Yesterday I stood outside of the hotel, on the doorstep no less, when suddenly the manager appeared and advised me to step back inside. Wow, that’s hard living!
Hugo, I don’t want to complain so much! I appreciate that to have gotten so far into this letter has taken patience and stamina and I understand that perhaps you haven’t got the time to read a foreigners view on your country! I’m nearly finished. I just wanted to mention something about the price of this hotel! It’s costing me nearly 160 US dollars per night plus another 100 US for the food! I mean breakfast is nearly 20 US dollars alone! I just don’t understand why it is so expensive! The place is a dump! If I had a cat I couldn’t even swing it in my room without bashing its head on the horribly coloured pink walls or on the thinnest chipboard and plastic coated desk that I have ever seen!
I do have rather a lot to say but will perhaps continue later. One thing though, what was all that about stopping the alcohol during the referendum? It was only by chance that I found this out before it was too late! There I was enjoying a lunch time beer when the barman said “no more”. Through sign language and desperation I then found out that you had prohibited the sale of alcohol from 2pm on Friday until 2pm on the following Monday! It worked out well for me as I managed to purchase a couple of crates from the bemused barman before 2pm struck but ……… did he have to poor the remainder of my beer into a plastic cup?
Anyway, I must get some sleep before these crazy housekeepers start singing again. They keep me annoyed all day – even the “no molester” sign outside doesn’t stop them from knocking on my door ten times everyday. They also call my room and then don’t speak when they realise I am English! One girl delivers the soap at 10am. The towel girl arrives at 11am, the floor cleaner at 12am and so on. Then at around 3pm the checks start as the towel checker checks that the towel girls has delivered the towels and then at 4pm the floor checker sniffs the floor to check that the floor cleaner has cleaned the floor. Hugo, you have done well to create jobs for the masses but don’t you see that they are all extremely poor. If perhaps there were fewer workers here they might be able to earn more money – of, I forgot, you want to keep them all poor don’t you!
Anyway, I must dash! I want to sit beside the swimming pool that sits next to the five lane motorway with my bottle of beer (that I must hide from prying eyes) and to listen to that awful music that they play over and over again. In the six days I have been here I have only heard six songs but the music has never stopped.
Talk to you later me old mate!
Rgds
Ieuan
PS: When I left your country I was stopped at the airport by some police who had only recently stopped wearing diapers. The young goon in a uniform stopped me and asked me to put out my tongue. Through sign language and frequent finger and retching actions he mimicked being sick, he pointed to his stomach as if he was pregnant and he ably proved to half the airport that his ego was flying far higher than the pea in his head.
I think he was asking me if I was taking drugs! I'm sorry but I ignored him which hurt his large ego. The only reason why I gave him 100 US dollars was because my flight was leaving soon but had it not I would have kept that game going until the pea shriveled and died and the ego had come crashing down like your economy is doing now.
Yes, you owe me 400 US dollars. One hundred for the clown at the airport and 300 on other bribes over the course of the week. In US dollars please.
You don’t mind if I call you “Hugo” ? I feel as if I know you like an old friend after seeing you shouting on at least 10 different channels last night.
I think they must alter the volume upward just for you!
Can you tell me something? What is all that shouting really about? I get it, that you have just managed to con a whole nation into letting you stay another decade or two in power but it is all a bit noisy, if you don’t mind my saying so. I saw you standing on the podium with your brain-dead disciples chanting “Si Va” but don’t they know that you couldn’t add 1+1 never mind lead a nation properly? Cracking jokes then singing, I mean what sort of horse did you ride into town on?
I have learnt a few things during my lengthy stay here in Puerto Cabello. The first being that I shouldn’t expect the ship to come into port anytime soon; in other words that the port authorities couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery never mind turn ships around.
I learnt that most of the population are too frightened to say “no” to you and that they are scared to vote for anybody else except you. Our taxi driver certainly doesn’t like you but he keeps his “No Va” sign hidden from view and a red t-shirt to hand should some of your brain dead supporters happen along!
I have also come to the conclusion that your policies don’t quite add-up! I see a glaring and endless hole (the size of a plug to drain the sea) in your speeches and wisdom. No, don’t stop reading, please wait until I explain myself. Most of your support comes from the poor people right? Intellectual and wealthy people don’t really like you but they are in the minority, stop me if I’m wrong! The poor people who are of course the majority vote for you because you promise to give them wealth and hope based upon the money gleamed from selling oil? Am I right or am I right? Where this ‘hole’ comes in is here! If you perchance make all the poor people rich then they enter that bracket of people who don’t really like you very much at all! So the only way that you can keep in power is to keep the masses poor and just dribble them hope in small and useless quantities.
Sorry, I shouldn’t really get into politics as it always ends in an argument.
When I drove here from Caracas and between my prayers to god that I didn’t end up smashed into smithereens like the many I passed (cars upside down, buses squashed like tin cans and lorries sitting on top of rusted hulks as if they had just laid a rotten egg) I noticed how beautiful the scenery is! Lush mountains covered in bountiful greenery! What I couldn’t understand is why all those people who live in shacks and tin-roofed hovels along the motorway don’t take better care of the environment. I don’t know what these precarious ill-fitted jigsaws of houses are like inside but why on earth doesn’t anybody clean up the rubbish! From the doorstep and around the house lie many years’ worth of rubbish and plastic discarded from the broken windows and thrown carelessly outward by those very people who live inside. I understand that it is not easy to be poor but it’s no excuse to live like a dog.
I haven’t left the hotel for five days! My brief foray one day, to the tourist sites, ended pretty quickly when a friendly policeman told me not to walk in a certain direction as it was too dangerous. I started to walk in the other direction but another friendly yet heavily armed policeman told me that it was also unsafe to continue further. Yesterday I stood outside of the hotel, on the doorstep no less, when suddenly the manager appeared and advised me to step back inside. Wow, that’s hard living!
Hugo, I don’t want to complain so much! I appreciate that to have gotten so far into this letter has taken patience and stamina and I understand that perhaps you haven’t got the time to read a foreigners view on your country! I’m nearly finished. I just wanted to mention something about the price of this hotel! It’s costing me nearly 160 US dollars per night plus another 100 US for the food! I mean breakfast is nearly 20 US dollars alone! I just don’t understand why it is so expensive! The place is a dump! If I had a cat I couldn’t even swing it in my room without bashing its head on the horribly coloured pink walls or on the thinnest chipboard and plastic coated desk that I have ever seen!
I do have rather a lot to say but will perhaps continue later. One thing though, what was all that about stopping the alcohol during the referendum? It was only by chance that I found this out before it was too late! There I was enjoying a lunch time beer when the barman said “no more”. Through sign language and desperation I then found out that you had prohibited the sale of alcohol from 2pm on Friday until 2pm on the following Monday! It worked out well for me as I managed to purchase a couple of crates from the bemused barman before 2pm struck but ……… did he have to poor the remainder of my beer into a plastic cup?
Anyway, I must get some sleep before these crazy housekeepers start singing again. They keep me annoyed all day – even the “no molester” sign outside doesn’t stop them from knocking on my door ten times everyday. They also call my room and then don’t speak when they realise I am English! One girl delivers the soap at 10am. The towel girl arrives at 11am, the floor cleaner at 12am and so on. Then at around 3pm the checks start as the towel checker checks that the towel girls has delivered the towels and then at 4pm the floor checker sniffs the floor to check that the floor cleaner has cleaned the floor. Hugo, you have done well to create jobs for the masses but don’t you see that they are all extremely poor. If perhaps there were fewer workers here they might be able to earn more money – of, I forgot, you want to keep them all poor don’t you!
Anyway, I must dash! I want to sit beside the swimming pool that sits next to the five lane motorway with my bottle of beer (that I must hide from prying eyes) and to listen to that awful music that they play over and over again. In the six days I have been here I have only heard six songs but the music has never stopped.
Talk to you later me old mate!
Rgds
Ieuan
PS: When I left your country I was stopped at the airport by some police who had only recently stopped wearing diapers. The young goon in a uniform stopped me and asked me to put out my tongue. Through sign language and frequent finger and retching actions he mimicked being sick, he pointed to his stomach as if he was pregnant and he ably proved to half the airport that his ego was flying far higher than the pea in his head.
I think he was asking me if I was taking drugs! I'm sorry but I ignored him which hurt his large ego. The only reason why I gave him 100 US dollars was because my flight was leaving soon but had it not I would have kept that game going until the pea shriveled and died and the ego had come crashing down like your economy is doing now.
Yes, you owe me 400 US dollars. One hundred for the clown at the airport and 300 on other bribes over the course of the week. In US dollars please.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
The Granny and a Virgin Train
This morning I pulled myself wearily onto a Virgin West Coast Train to work my way down to Ellesmere Port near Liverpool, suffused with cold and cough, frozen from the sudden onslaught of winter and sad to be leaving my wife and son back home.
Five minutes into the journey I was back in usual form, watching and learning from those around me, wandering where we all are and where we are all going (in-life I mean as I know that I was heading to Ellesmere Port on the 1051 Virgin West Coast Train, change at Warrington Bank Quay).
They overheat these trains you know. I initially took off my coat. Then when I started to perspire profusely, to the discomfort of the summer-dressed granny perched primly next to me, I took off my vivid-yellow mohair polar neck jumper with all the farm animals on it. Five minutes later as I sat there with my large rucksack between my legs (I had mistakenly thought that I could put it on the luggage rack above but they build these things for coats only these days) I felt the need to take off further layers before I fainted. I could see granny looking at me out of the corner of her eye. She sniffed expressively as I sat immovable and unable to see as the rucksack, the jumper, a sweatshirt, an extra t-shirt, a scarf and some gloves kept me securely in place.
The train was totally empty. I fail to understand how The Train Line with whom I booked my ticket manage seat allocations but there was me squashed against the window in 39A, the granny perched next to me in 40A and lots and lots of unnocupied seats. I wanted to mention by-the-by to granny that she could move to another seat but did not want to risk frightening her with my gravelly voice that was liberally enhanced with the rigors of coughing too much.
And so we worked our way down to the borders and into England, through areas of snow, patches of hailstones, sun and rain and ice and onward to Warrington Bank Quay.
I got off and so per chance did granny!
Due to an unforeseen delay most likely caused by snow on the tracks I had missed my connection and so I sensibly repaired to the only coffee shop around for a cappuccino and a bit of warmth for the next hour of waiting. Seems that my double-generation-apart companion was on the same track as me! And so we sat next to each other at the only table available, not saying a word and seemingly lost in our own little worlds, oblivious to the presence of the other. My train eventually pulled up. The 1502 from Warrington Bank Quay to Ellesmere Port and off I went to hop on.
The train was strangely full but I manged to find one empty double seat further up the carriage and so I plonked myself down before anybody else spotted it. A couple of seconds later a wrinkled and wobbling hand under my nose indicated that somebody wanted to sit down, a subtle hint that I should move my rucksack off the seat beside me.
It was granny.
We passed another half-hour in companionable silence, she in her summer dress on the edge of her seat and I sweating profusely in my six layers of clothes, insistant that I could grit my teeth and bear it in preference to undressing myself again.
Whilst preparing to get off the train, she by covering her summer-dress with an equally flimsy coat and I by trying to cool myself down by wafting air up my t-shirt, she turned around to me and said "nice jumper".
And so we parted our ways. I wonder if I will meet her again on the return journey. Perhaps not but I will be prepared. One T-shirt and a coat should work!
Five minutes into the journey I was back in usual form, watching and learning from those around me, wandering where we all are and where we are all going (in-life I mean as I know that I was heading to Ellesmere Port on the 1051 Virgin West Coast Train, change at Warrington Bank Quay).
They overheat these trains you know. I initially took off my coat. Then when I started to perspire profusely, to the discomfort of the summer-dressed granny perched primly next to me, I took off my vivid-yellow mohair polar neck jumper with all the farm animals on it. Five minutes later as I sat there with my large rucksack between my legs (I had mistakenly thought that I could put it on the luggage rack above but they build these things for coats only these days) I felt the need to take off further layers before I fainted. I could see granny looking at me out of the corner of her eye. She sniffed expressively as I sat immovable and unable to see as the rucksack, the jumper, a sweatshirt, an extra t-shirt, a scarf and some gloves kept me securely in place.
The train was totally empty. I fail to understand how The Train Line with whom I booked my ticket manage seat allocations but there was me squashed against the window in 39A, the granny perched next to me in 40A and lots and lots of unnocupied seats. I wanted to mention by-the-by to granny that she could move to another seat but did not want to risk frightening her with my gravelly voice that was liberally enhanced with the rigors of coughing too much.
And so we worked our way down to the borders and into England, through areas of snow, patches of hailstones, sun and rain and ice and onward to Warrington Bank Quay.
I got off and so per chance did granny!
Due to an unforeseen delay most likely caused by snow on the tracks I had missed my connection and so I sensibly repaired to the only coffee shop around for a cappuccino and a bit of warmth for the next hour of waiting. Seems that my double-generation-apart companion was on the same track as me! And so we sat next to each other at the only table available, not saying a word and seemingly lost in our own little worlds, oblivious to the presence of the other. My train eventually pulled up. The 1502 from Warrington Bank Quay to Ellesmere Port and off I went to hop on.
The train was strangely full but I manged to find one empty double seat further up the carriage and so I plonked myself down before anybody else spotted it. A couple of seconds later a wrinkled and wobbling hand under my nose indicated that somebody wanted to sit down, a subtle hint that I should move my rucksack off the seat beside me.
It was granny.
We passed another half-hour in companionable silence, she in her summer dress on the edge of her seat and I sweating profusely in my six layers of clothes, insistant that I could grit my teeth and bear it in preference to undressing myself again.
Whilst preparing to get off the train, she by covering her summer-dress with an equally flimsy coat and I by trying to cool myself down by wafting air up my t-shirt, she turned around to me and said "nice jumper".
And so we parted our ways. I wonder if I will meet her again on the return journey. Perhaps not but I will be prepared. One T-shirt and a coat should work!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
The Foul-Smelling Race and a Liberal Dose of Chemicals
It dawned on me the other day that we must be an extremely pongy nation! This realization did not spring on me whilst I searched for oxygen under the runny armpit of some banker on the London Underground or whilst reeling at my own disgusting morning breath but was born from a million and one adverts on television that tell us that we need to get serious.
Hundreds of adverts strongly suggest that life cannot go on without serious assistance. Young lads roam the streets in sadness, isolated and shunned until one fine day they discover deodorant! A liberal all-over dunking of some false-smelling spray drastically changes everything, locked doors open, withered flowers spring into bloom and well, girls, just fall head over heels were before they were instantly turned off. Girls only fall in love with boys who are petrified in various liquids and sprays, boys only fall in love with the wild woman who spends a fortune on a hint-of-a-tint rose, begonia, Japanese pine (maybe that was for the bathroom) or a lily-tainted concoction!
Never mind the body, what about the house! That advert, the one with the man who comes home from work and the first thing that he does is to throw himself flat onto the carpet to dramatically inhale some wonderfully smelly chemicals that the wife lovingly sprayed around, is well pretty sick. The couple who dance in front of an automatic motion sensing air-freshener - although it takes a day and a half for the husband to work that out as he stands waiting in a pool of his own smelly misery waiting for a burst to happen! Then there is the air-freshener that changes its output depending upon erm, night and day or was it temperature based, but, it matters not when the contraption spurts out Wassail, Cranberry and Holiday Scent for the connoisseur.
And there is a bonus to an air-freshener in the work place. As Ballard Air Fresheners puts it, "Sweet smell of SUCCESS - Fragrance somehow allows you to pay better attention, particularly at the end of a task. A separate study found office workers set higher goals for themselves and were more focused when commercial air fresheners were put in the work environment". Not only is the room smelling nice and disguising all of those disgusting body odors, stale furniture whiffs, fetid photocopier printouts and the foul-smelling sense of failure but the environment is a happy one! All this from a little container holding formaldehyde, petroleum distillates, p- dichlorobenzene, and aerosol propellants with a dash of whatever takes your fancy.
The US Environmental Protection Agency said, "as air fresheners are usually highly flammable and also strong irritants to eyes, skin, and throat. Additionally, the solid fresheners usually cause death if eaten by people or pets". And then there was that poor boy in Nottingham, the one who died after spraying himself with Lynx deodorant. "Boy, 12, collapsed and died after 'using too much Lynx deodorant". Lynx insisted that the small print on the canister should have been read before use.
And then we have the bathroom. I won't go down the road of discussing the urinals at Old Trafford after a lost home match against Liverpool but as Imtek puts it "Bathrooms in general can be easily invaded by foul odors from urine and feces. They are also an ideal breeding ground for bacteria, mold, mildew, and fungus that also generate odor. Unfortunately, most ventilation systems only recirculate room air and remove large particulate matter such as dirt, dust, and lint. Pungent bathroom odors are left free to recirculate in the air you breathe and could increase in concentration if left untreated. Covering up nasty bathroom odors with perfumed deodorizers often times only result in even more offensive smells". That's enough of that.
There are many websites devoted to smell removal but I particularly like those offered up by Wacky Home Tips especially the idea of removing the smell of perspiration from clothes by dipping them in half a bucket of water to which three or four aspirin tablets have been added. Leave for a couple of hours and the smells will vanish! Whats wrong with a washing machine?
To capitalize on this seemingly overpowering urgency to smell anything other than natural I am going to invest heavily in designing and producing a series of deodorants, air-fresheners and deodorizers that cater to some extremely specific odor problems. My favorite idea so far is for my four-year old son, and the many people like him, who fart without remorse or compunction. I am going to make an automatic fart deodorizer. This will sit in the back-pocket and upon sensing movement in his nether regions a burst of forest oak will be emitted that will disguise and neutralize any foul odors before they hit the nostrils. The smell of forest pine might alert others to the fact that a fart has been emitted but this would be a small price to pay.
I am also wandering what to do about smelly socks! Perhaps a shoe filled with aspirins might work or a shoe that has inbuilt injection nozzles and a heel that can store a variety of sweet smelling sachets for those moments when the socks become too heavy to cope with.
Hundreds of adverts strongly suggest that life cannot go on without serious assistance. Young lads roam the streets in sadness, isolated and shunned until one fine day they discover deodorant! A liberal all-over dunking of some false-smelling spray drastically changes everything, locked doors open, withered flowers spring into bloom and well, girls, just fall head over heels were before they were instantly turned off. Girls only fall in love with boys who are petrified in various liquids and sprays, boys only fall in love with the wild woman who spends a fortune on a hint-of-a-tint rose, begonia, Japanese pine (maybe that was for the bathroom) or a lily-tainted concoction!
Never mind the body, what about the house! That advert, the one with the man who comes home from work and the first thing that he does is to throw himself flat onto the carpet to dramatically inhale some wonderfully smelly chemicals that the wife lovingly sprayed around, is well pretty sick. The couple who dance in front of an automatic motion sensing air-freshener - although it takes a day and a half for the husband to work that out as he stands waiting in a pool of his own smelly misery waiting for a burst to happen! Then there is the air-freshener that changes its output depending upon erm, night and day or was it temperature based, but, it matters not when the contraption spurts out Wassail, Cranberry and Holiday Scent for the connoisseur.
And there is a bonus to an air-freshener in the work place. As Ballard Air Fresheners puts it, "Sweet smell of SUCCESS - Fragrance somehow allows you to pay better attention, particularly at the end of a task. A separate study found office workers set higher goals for themselves and were more focused when commercial air fresheners were put in the work environment". Not only is the room smelling nice and disguising all of those disgusting body odors, stale furniture whiffs, fetid photocopier printouts and the foul-smelling sense of failure but the environment is a happy one! All this from a little container holding formaldehyde, petroleum distillates, p- dichlorobenzene, and aerosol propellants with a dash of whatever takes your fancy.
The US Environmental Protection Agency said, "as air fresheners are usually highly flammable and also strong irritants to eyes, skin, and throat. Additionally, the solid fresheners usually cause death if eaten by people or pets". And then there was that poor boy in Nottingham, the one who died after spraying himself with Lynx deodorant. "Boy, 12, collapsed and died after 'using too much Lynx deodorant". Lynx insisted that the small print on the canister should have been read before use.
And then we have the bathroom. I won't go down the road of discussing the urinals at Old Trafford after a lost home match against Liverpool but as Imtek puts it "Bathrooms in general can be easily invaded by foul odors from urine and feces. They are also an ideal breeding ground for bacteria, mold, mildew, and fungus that also generate odor. Unfortunately, most ventilation systems only recirculate room air and remove large particulate matter such as dirt, dust, and lint. Pungent bathroom odors are left free to recirculate in the air you breathe and could increase in concentration if left untreated. Covering up nasty bathroom odors with perfumed deodorizers often times only result in even more offensive smells". That's enough of that.
There are many websites devoted to smell removal but I particularly like those offered up by Wacky Home Tips especially the idea of removing the smell of perspiration from clothes by dipping them in half a bucket of water to which three or four aspirin tablets have been added. Leave for a couple of hours and the smells will vanish! Whats wrong with a washing machine?
To capitalize on this seemingly overpowering urgency to smell anything other than natural I am going to invest heavily in designing and producing a series of deodorants, air-fresheners and deodorizers that cater to some extremely specific odor problems. My favorite idea so far is for my four-year old son, and the many people like him, who fart without remorse or compunction. I am going to make an automatic fart deodorizer. This will sit in the back-pocket and upon sensing movement in his nether regions a burst of forest oak will be emitted that will disguise and neutralize any foul odors before they hit the nostrils. The smell of forest pine might alert others to the fact that a fart has been emitted but this would be a small price to pay.
I am also wandering what to do about smelly socks! Perhaps a shoe filled with aspirins might work or a shoe that has inbuilt injection nozzles and a heel that can store a variety of sweet smelling sachets for those moments when the socks become too heavy to cope with.
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