"Unto Caesar pay the taxes," one man famously said when questioned about paying taxes "for it is his face upon the coins." Shortly afterwards he got nailed to a tree, which just goes to show.
It is indeed right and proper that we pay taxes. But do we have to have quite so many of them. And whilst I don't mind paying a fair tax, I object top paying tax on a tax for something I paid tax on already.
The newest tax to be proposed is the Mansion Tax, which will be aimed at those who own houses worth more than £2 million. These are obviously rich people, who should be taxed for being successful. I expect most footballers will be happy to pay this tax, and they can certainly afford it. But what about those unfortunate people who have lived in houses which through the governments ineptitude, assisted by greedy property developers and town planners have risen into that band whilst they stay on the same income? Other people made their house worth more, not them.
My own modest plot falls nowhere near the £2 million threshold, but he's the rub. In the North of England it could be any house worth more than £400,000, and mine might soon come quite close. it's nudging towards £300,000 already.
So far as I see it I have earned money by working, and I have paid income tax on that money. I bought a house with what was left and had to pay Stamp Duty tax for the privilege. Then I had to pay council tax to live in it. And now I might have to pay mansion tax as well to keep living in it. There is of course a plan by the Labour Party to ease that burden, so that you don't actually pay anything towards the Mansion Tax until you are dead. Brilliant - now they've even found a way to tax me after I'm dead. Up until this they relied on my beneficiaries paying inheritance tax on what I left behind. But of course they'll want that too, although they will deduct the value of the Mansion Tax from the estate value before inheritance tax is calculated. No doubt they will want VAT on the tax as well.
Of course you can avoid the tax entirely by being rich and then renting a house. Or you could just be poor and never pay any taxes at all.
Tax on cars is equally strange. Again you earn money and pay income tax, and with the bit you have left you are allowed to buy a car, on which you pay purchase tax, and VAT. Then you must pay vehicle excise duty, which is a tax on ownership of the car, and if you intend to drive it you will need fuel, on which you pay fuel duty and some more VAT. And you must insure it, which is tax in disguise, and pay some more VAT on the insurance. If you choose instead to simply park it, then you must pay a parking charge, yet another tax in disguise, probably with VAT as well, and if you forget to pay or overstay you get a fine (tax?) with VAT on it. And if you are unfortunate enough to live or work in the capital, there's yet another tax to pay for the congestion that has been caused by turning half the road into "special users lanes" for those on buses and riding cycles who don't pay tax. And don't be tempted to use those bus lanes either, or you'll be taxed/fined for that too. Even if you go green and environmental and buy a G-Whiz electric car you'll still be paying VAT on the electricity.
It's all enough to drive you to drink - but there's tax on that too.
Income tax was of course originally charged to finance a war with the French. We should have stopped paying it years ago, we just got used to it.
I found some comfort then when they announced on the news that Britain was being charged an extra £1.7 billion by the EU for being so successful in managing our economy. Cameron was furious, and said he will not pay it. Good for him .But then it dawned on me - they'll only find a way of making me pay it.
Monday, 27 October 2014
Why Cops eat Donuts
Why do cops eat donuts? Well truth is they don't, at least not as much as they are portrayed to do by the media. I can count on one hand the number of donuts I've eaten this year, and it's six.
Cops do tend to eat sugary foods and fast food though, and it's not purely down to the shift work and inability to eat regular meals, although that does play a part. What it comes down to is genetics. It's in our DNA. How can this be I hear you ask? You aren't born as a cop. And that is mostly true too. But our DNA and genetic make up means we are all designed to eat at regular intervals, but any shiftworker in the emergency services will tell you that is impossible. Except for firemen, who rarely have their meals, or sleep disturbed.
It is to do with STRESS and how our bodies react to it. In ascending order here are the top ten most stressful jobs in the UK.
10. Schoolteacher. (except for during the thirteen weeks of holiday they get - they must be pretty unstressed, particularly after that six week summer break)
9. Social Worker (Not sure how they get stressed with all the camomile tea and Japanese Peace Lilies around the office)
8. Newspaper Reporter (You're kidding right? I suppose if your the war correspondent in Afghanistan it might get a bit hairy)
7. Emergency Dispatcher (Passing the buck to other people to deal with the real problem is stressful? Really?)
6. Nurse (I've been in A&E often enough to know this is true, but it is't quite like they show on "Casualty" - I've never heard them shout CRASH yet)
5. Police Officer (Eating doughnuts can be stressful - see below)
4. Pilot (I am amazed at this, because it is basically driving in 3D, and I find driving quite relaxing. Plus I once spoke with a pilot, who told me modern planes could take off, fly and land themselves without him being in the cockpit, and he was only really there as public reassurance. I suppose there is always the worry of a Taliban on board, but it is quite rare really. And if your a light aircraft pilot that must be quite stressful, you have one engine, and if that goes out.......)
3. Firefighter (How is sitting around the station polishing your fire engine and driving round town on a Friday evening flexing your muscles for the girls and pretending to check hydrants stressful? Why is essential hydrant maintenance always scheduled for a Friday night anyway? The average fire fighter goes to around 3 real fires a year, and maybe ten or twelve traffic incidents were he will usually cut the battery cables and hose away evidence causing stress to number 5 in the list)
2. Surgeon (It must be very stressful taking a person apart, then putting them back together again and hoping they still work afterwards. I did this once with a Mitsubishi engine and it was never the same afterwards - and I had bits left over, so all credit to Britain's second most stressful occupation. They must be on a knife edge the whole time waiting for their bleepers to go off and the nurses to shout CRASH - which they never do, see above)
1. Military personnel. (I have the utmost respect and admiration for our armed forces, who are understrength overworked and under equipped. Although you have to remember they all volunteered knowing there was a good chance they would be sent into combat, unlike their fathers who joined in the cold war when there was little chance of anything kicking off anywhere and were taken by surprise when the Falklands War broke out. That must have been most stressful, when you were enjoying a career consisting of simply driving a Land Rover around Salisbury Plain and then suddenly were sent out there to be shot at.)
So being a cop is the 5th most stressful job in the country. And even more so in the city I would hazard. When subject to mental or physical stress in a potentially life threatening situation the human body responds by producing adrenalin, to allow "fight or flight" responses. This is where we either deal with the issue by punching it, wrestling it, killing it, chasing after it or running away from it. In the days of the cave man the problem causing the stress was usually a predator, and you either killed it then ate it, or you ran away from it or got eaten. The problem for cops is they are not allowed to run away from whatever is causing the stress, and in most cases are discouraged from eating it either. This means that a chemical hormone called Cortisol produced at the same time as the adrenalin flooded their body to give them the energy to fight or flight builds up in their system. This causes sugar imbalance, leading to potential diabetes. Cops are already at high risk of diabetes due to the shift work, poor sleeping patterns and irregular or skipped meals. Once the sugar balance is disturbed the cops get sugar cravings, both mental and physical. If they have to suddenly expend energy and rapidly deplete their energy reserves the Cortisol causes a sugar crash, hence the desire for a nice sugary donut and a mug of hot sweet brown. Because they have missed a meal the hormone adiponectin is low. Adiponectin is what helps burn fat rather than store it. Missing meals the body believes it will starve, so it stores the energy from the donut as fat, rather than burn it as fuel.
Whoa! This can't be right I hear you say. Marathon runners expend masses of energy but don;t eat donuts or get fat. And you'd be right. But runners have the opportunity, like all athletes, to warm up prior to their exercise. They don't get that flood or Cortisol, and they don't have the adiponectin deficiency because they had a stack of high energy slow release oatmeal or whatever for breakfast.
Of course once in the cycle, the cop is likely to put on more weight, no matter how much he exercises, thus becoming borderline diabetic with erratic blood sugar levels and the cycle continues, with more donuts. The only way to end it is to retire, and do something less stressful. I have checked the list and quite fancy emergency dispatcher.
There are of course two other reasons cops eat donuts. Because the can, and because they like 'em.
Cops do tend to eat sugary foods and fast food though, and it's not purely down to the shift work and inability to eat regular meals, although that does play a part. What it comes down to is genetics. It's in our DNA. How can this be I hear you ask? You aren't born as a cop. And that is mostly true too. But our DNA and genetic make up means we are all designed to eat at regular intervals, but any shiftworker in the emergency services will tell you that is impossible. Except for firemen, who rarely have their meals, or sleep disturbed.
It is to do with STRESS and how our bodies react to it. In ascending order here are the top ten most stressful jobs in the UK.
10. Schoolteacher. (except for during the thirteen weeks of holiday they get - they must be pretty unstressed, particularly after that six week summer break)
9. Social Worker (Not sure how they get stressed with all the camomile tea and Japanese Peace Lilies around the office)
8. Newspaper Reporter (You're kidding right? I suppose if your the war correspondent in Afghanistan it might get a bit hairy)
7. Emergency Dispatcher (Passing the buck to other people to deal with the real problem is stressful? Really?)
6. Nurse (I've been in A&E often enough to know this is true, but it is't quite like they show on "Casualty" - I've never heard them shout CRASH yet)
5. Police Officer (Eating doughnuts can be stressful - see below)
4. Pilot (I am amazed at this, because it is basically driving in 3D, and I find driving quite relaxing. Plus I once spoke with a pilot, who told me modern planes could take off, fly and land themselves without him being in the cockpit, and he was only really there as public reassurance. I suppose there is always the worry of a Taliban on board, but it is quite rare really. And if your a light aircraft pilot that must be quite stressful, you have one engine, and if that goes out.......)
3. Firefighter (How is sitting around the station polishing your fire engine and driving round town on a Friday evening flexing your muscles for the girls and pretending to check hydrants stressful? Why is essential hydrant maintenance always scheduled for a Friday night anyway? The average fire fighter goes to around 3 real fires a year, and maybe ten or twelve traffic incidents were he will usually cut the battery cables and hose away evidence causing stress to number 5 in the list)
2. Surgeon (It must be very stressful taking a person apart, then putting them back together again and hoping they still work afterwards. I did this once with a Mitsubishi engine and it was never the same afterwards - and I had bits left over, so all credit to Britain's second most stressful occupation. They must be on a knife edge the whole time waiting for their bleepers to go off and the nurses to shout CRASH - which they never do, see above)
1. Military personnel. (I have the utmost respect and admiration for our armed forces, who are understrength overworked and under equipped. Although you have to remember they all volunteered knowing there was a good chance they would be sent into combat, unlike their fathers who joined in the cold war when there was little chance of anything kicking off anywhere and were taken by surprise when the Falklands War broke out. That must have been most stressful, when you were enjoying a career consisting of simply driving a Land Rover around Salisbury Plain and then suddenly were sent out there to be shot at.)
So being a cop is the 5th most stressful job in the country. And even more so in the city I would hazard. When subject to mental or physical stress in a potentially life threatening situation the human body responds by producing adrenalin, to allow "fight or flight" responses. This is where we either deal with the issue by punching it, wrestling it, killing it, chasing after it or running away from it. In the days of the cave man the problem causing the stress was usually a predator, and you either killed it then ate it, or you ran away from it or got eaten. The problem for cops is they are not allowed to run away from whatever is causing the stress, and in most cases are discouraged from eating it either. This means that a chemical hormone called Cortisol produced at the same time as the adrenalin flooded their body to give them the energy to fight or flight builds up in their system. This causes sugar imbalance, leading to potential diabetes. Cops are already at high risk of diabetes due to the shift work, poor sleeping patterns and irregular or skipped meals. Once the sugar balance is disturbed the cops get sugar cravings, both mental and physical. If they have to suddenly expend energy and rapidly deplete their energy reserves the Cortisol causes a sugar crash, hence the desire for a nice sugary donut and a mug of hot sweet brown. Because they have missed a meal the hormone adiponectin is low. Adiponectin is what helps burn fat rather than store it. Missing meals the body believes it will starve, so it stores the energy from the donut as fat, rather than burn it as fuel.
Whoa! This can't be right I hear you say. Marathon runners expend masses of energy but don;t eat donuts or get fat. And you'd be right. But runners have the opportunity, like all athletes, to warm up prior to their exercise. They don't get that flood or Cortisol, and they don't have the adiponectin deficiency because they had a stack of high energy slow release oatmeal or whatever for breakfast.
Of course once in the cycle, the cop is likely to put on more weight, no matter how much he exercises, thus becoming borderline diabetic with erratic blood sugar levels and the cycle continues, with more donuts. The only way to end it is to retire, and do something less stressful. I have checked the list and quite fancy emergency dispatcher.
There are of course two other reasons cops eat donuts. Because the can, and because they like 'em.
Monday, 31 March 2014
Happy New Year
With a third of the New Year now passed, it seems I owe all my readers a somewhat belated Happy New Year wish. Where has the time gone? This my first blog of 2014, which suggests that either nothing of interest has happened since January 1st, or, given my usual frantic lifestyle, so many interesting things have been happening that I haven't had time to write about them. This seems more likely.
I can't think of anything specifically, but I'm sure there must have been things going on.
Perhaps I should liven things up a little by tempting fate, or poking Death with a big stick? I'm sure that will liven things up a little, and give me something more interesting to write about next time.
If you were expecting my usual witty vitriol, or a rant, then I apologize. Normal service will resume as soon as possible.
I can't think of anything specifically, but I'm sure there must have been things going on.
Perhaps I should liven things up a little by tempting fate, or poking Death with a big stick? I'm sure that will liven things up a little, and give me something more interesting to write about next time.
If you were expecting my usual witty vitriol, or a rant, then I apologize. Normal service will resume as soon as possible.
Wednesday, 18 December 2013
Life on mars wallpaper from back to the future
Living near a city the size of Hull, one would expect there to be a plethora of wallpaper outlets with a multitude of designs to choose from. Not so.
Our local DIY store used to supply wallpaper that you could choose from a number of sample books, but apparently their supplier treat them like a third world country because they didn't buy enough, so now they have stopped supplying at all. That leaves a small independent trader on one of the city high streets, who has apparently closed early for Christmas, and the usual suspects who for commercial reasons I will refer to as Q & B and Basehome. Oh yes and a local cut price chain called B & M, who for commercial reasons I shall refer to as .............. oh bugger, I've said their real name now, too late.
No matter, all of these stock exactly the same wallpaper. There are currently three wallpapers available. Well okay, there are more than that, but to me they all look the same and fall into four categories, which are retro 1970 psychedelia, huge floral designs, Indian Restaurant flocks and the sort of thing your gran would have had in her front room in the 1970's. It was like walking onto the set of Life on Mars.
After an exhaustive search of all four potential wallpaper emporiums and an hour of deliberation we settled on something which was at best a compromise for our dining room. Why are wallpaper designs suddenly so stale and restrictive? Is it the financial recession? Is paint taking over as the wall covering of choice? Or is it a fashion thing, whereby "designers" are dictating what they think we should have on our walls?
In these modern times where we can manufacture objects on a 3D printer I think we have missed a trick. There must surely be a market for a large wallpaper roll printer on which we, the general public, can design and print our own wallpaper, to ensure we get a sensible design of what we want, and not what "they" want to sell us.
Dragons Den here I come.
Our local DIY store used to supply wallpaper that you could choose from a number of sample books, but apparently their supplier treat them like a third world country because they didn't buy enough, so now they have stopped supplying at all. That leaves a small independent trader on one of the city high streets, who has apparently closed early for Christmas, and the usual suspects who for commercial reasons I will refer to as Q & B and Basehome. Oh yes and a local cut price chain called B & M, who for commercial reasons I shall refer to as .............. oh bugger, I've said their real name now, too late.
No matter, all of these stock exactly the same wallpaper. There are currently three wallpapers available. Well okay, there are more than that, but to me they all look the same and fall into four categories, which are retro 1970 psychedelia, huge floral designs, Indian Restaurant flocks and the sort of thing your gran would have had in her front room in the 1970's. It was like walking onto the set of Life on Mars.
After an exhaustive search of all four potential wallpaper emporiums and an hour of deliberation we settled on something which was at best a compromise for our dining room. Why are wallpaper designs suddenly so stale and restrictive? Is it the financial recession? Is paint taking over as the wall covering of choice? Or is it a fashion thing, whereby "designers" are dictating what they think we should have on our walls?
In these modern times where we can manufacture objects on a 3D printer I think we have missed a trick. There must surely be a market for a large wallpaper roll printer on which we, the general public, can design and print our own wallpaper, to ensure we get a sensible design of what we want, and not what "they" want to sell us.
Dragons Den here I come.
Sunday, 17 November 2013
How to shop for shoes in November when surrounded by Christmas shopping zombies.
Yesterday I had to take the girl child for new shoes and boots for school. This filled me with dread. During the summer I tried to buy some sensible shoes for myself. In any shoe shop there will be a ratio of around 16:1 womens shoes to mens shoes. The same applies to the clothing department. Do women have more feet than men? and do they really need 16 x the amount of sweaters, jeans and shirts? Clearly they do, because whilst I make do with two very thin wardrobes and four drawers my wife has two double sized wardrobes and 8 drawers. Anyway, in the quest for sensible mens shoes I visited several shops and eventually secured a pair, albeit in Amsterdam. I didn't travel overseas specifically, you understand, I just happened to be there and popped into that old British stalwart C & A (which we no longer have in the UK) and found a nice sensible pair of shoes. This cannot be done in the UK, or at least it couldn't during the summer, both Tescos and Asda have a good range of shoes now I no longer need them.
Anyway, I digress, the issue was shoes for the girl child. Girl child has grown out of her old shoes. Girl child has reached the age when she hovers between girls shoes and lady shoes in size. Head boss at school has strict guidelines as to what girl children may wear on their feet. This makes it almost impossible to buy shoes for the girl child. Girl child is at impressionable age where every shop she enters has something she simply must buy/wear/try on/discuss at length/drool over. This makes Dad man very impatient, particularly as a species known as "Christmas shopping Zombie" has descended upon the shopping centres. We will discuss christmas shopping zombies in detail later. After an hour of aimlessly perusing stores Dad man introduced girl child to a revolutionary concept known as Dad shopping. This involves going into the shop straight to the shoes and making an immediate assessment of suitable shoe availability. i.e is it black, is it shiny leather, does it have a flat heel and is it size 4. If the answer is no, then move on to the next shop. You have sixty seconds to decide. Using this simple formula we were able to visit around 16 shops within the remainder of two hour period allocated in my day as "Shoe shopping time." and we were able to secure said pair of boots and shoes for the princely sum of £35 total. Although I almost had a Sean* when I saw the price of one likely pair of boots at £129.99 (reduced) Luckily girl child decided she didn't like the zip up the back. This made Dad man happy, and daughter, at the tender age of 13 is now equipped with the understanding of shopping without being brainwashed by consumerism. This will make her future husband very happy. I can foresee a time in her later life buying a sofa suite in 30 seconds on the basis that it is wipe clean, comfortable and can seat six, without being hypnotised by the myriad of swirly patterns or her mind melting in chintz.
And so onto the aforementioned Christmas Shopping Zombies. They were out in force yesterday, and earlier than usual. The CSZ do not move quickly. They are unable to make decisions, and move in huge packs, the basic CSZ comprising of an adult male, adult female and up to four little CSZ, the smaller ones admittedly being a little more animated than their parents. But the CSZ also come in mixed social groups, and can comprise of anything up to 15 females in a pack, or two or three mixed couples. What would appear to be the dominant male in any pack is immediately recognizable in that he will be carrying all the bags. He will also have the emptiest wallet and the biggest credit card bill. Even when they cease shopping to drink Costa Coffee, he will be readily identified as the one paying for the coffee, and by the red lines across his palms cause by carrying heavy plastic carriers all day. Is i beyond the wit of mankind to develop a bag that doesn't attempt to sever fingers? We can make them dolphin friendly, why can't we make them human friendly? At least one CSZ in any group will be taking orders from a command centre somewhere via a mobile phone. They will attempt to relay commands in an over animated and piercingly loud voice to others within the group. Their voice is in fact at such a volume that the phone is often unnecessary. Tarquin would be thrilled to open his surprise present on Christmas Day if a) it wasn't socks (again) and b)he hadn't overheard from the other side of the shopping centre that that was what he was getting.
The CSZ once on the move, will move erratically and slowly, picking up goods at random, and as often as not, putting them down IN THE WRONG PLACE. They will circle, stop suddenly, repeat a route for no obvious reason, appear as if about to turn left then go right, and then go left, or suddenly walk backwards. All behaviours that we would not tolerate if we were driving. Yet we apologise to them when we suddenly bump into them or trip over them, or are poked in the eye by their umbrella (don't get me started on umbrellas) And being British, if they apologise first, we apologise right back at them. What I really want to do of course is punch them, very hard about the head until they fall over. And then hit them with a shovel. And then use the shovel to clear a path through the rest of the CSZ to get to the shoes. Having paid for only two hours parking I couldn't waste time, because in the weeks running up to Christmas, whilst the CSZ moves slowly, their partners in parking enforcement move like demented bees. Usain Bolt would have been put to shame by one keen parking enforcement official I saw, dashing from one car to another, checking each tyre was within the white lines and that the driver had paid the Bacon Tax.*
I foresee the CSZ problem getting worse, because last year nobody had any money and this year it seems we are coming out of the recession and have money to burn. And so they will be out more often and for longer spending cash and clogging up the shops so I can't.
Happily I fall into the category of LMCS a different kind of shopper altogether. As a Last Minute Christmas Shopper I may appear to be rushing about on Christmas Eve in blind terror, but I'm not. I know exactly what I want, where it is and how much it costs, and I have the right money ion my wallet. Sadly, there is none left when I get there. So I will buy everyone unsuitable shoes.
Sean* - Sean Connery - Coronary (Hull Rhyming Slang - famous for not necessarily rhyming or being very good)
Bacon Tax.* Bacon Rind - James Hind. (Hull Rhyming Slang) James Hind was famous for Highway Robbery, although not as popular as Dick Turpin.
Anyway, I digress, the issue was shoes for the girl child. Girl child has grown out of her old shoes. Girl child has reached the age when she hovers between girls shoes and lady shoes in size. Head boss at school has strict guidelines as to what girl children may wear on their feet. This makes it almost impossible to buy shoes for the girl child. Girl child is at impressionable age where every shop she enters has something she simply must buy/wear/try on/discuss at length/drool over. This makes Dad man very impatient, particularly as a species known as "Christmas shopping Zombie" has descended upon the shopping centres. We will discuss christmas shopping zombies in detail later. After an hour of aimlessly perusing stores Dad man introduced girl child to a revolutionary concept known as Dad shopping. This involves going into the shop straight to the shoes and making an immediate assessment of suitable shoe availability. i.e is it black, is it shiny leather, does it have a flat heel and is it size 4. If the answer is no, then move on to the next shop. You have sixty seconds to decide. Using this simple formula we were able to visit around 16 shops within the remainder of two hour period allocated in my day as "Shoe shopping time." and we were able to secure said pair of boots and shoes for the princely sum of £35 total. Although I almost had a Sean* when I saw the price of one likely pair of boots at £129.99 (reduced) Luckily girl child decided she didn't like the zip up the back. This made Dad man happy, and daughter, at the tender age of 13 is now equipped with the understanding of shopping without being brainwashed by consumerism. This will make her future husband very happy. I can foresee a time in her later life buying a sofa suite in 30 seconds on the basis that it is wipe clean, comfortable and can seat six, without being hypnotised by the myriad of swirly patterns or her mind melting in chintz.
And so onto the aforementioned Christmas Shopping Zombies. They were out in force yesterday, and earlier than usual. The CSZ do not move quickly. They are unable to make decisions, and move in huge packs, the basic CSZ comprising of an adult male, adult female and up to four little CSZ, the smaller ones admittedly being a little more animated than their parents. But the CSZ also come in mixed social groups, and can comprise of anything up to 15 females in a pack, or two or three mixed couples. What would appear to be the dominant male in any pack is immediately recognizable in that he will be carrying all the bags. He will also have the emptiest wallet and the biggest credit card bill. Even when they cease shopping to drink Costa Coffee, he will be readily identified as the one paying for the coffee, and by the red lines across his palms cause by carrying heavy plastic carriers all day. Is i beyond the wit of mankind to develop a bag that doesn't attempt to sever fingers? We can make them dolphin friendly, why can't we make them human friendly? At least one CSZ in any group will be taking orders from a command centre somewhere via a mobile phone. They will attempt to relay commands in an over animated and piercingly loud voice to others within the group. Their voice is in fact at such a volume that the phone is often unnecessary. Tarquin would be thrilled to open his surprise present on Christmas Day if a) it wasn't socks (again) and b)he hadn't overheard from the other side of the shopping centre that that was what he was getting.
The CSZ once on the move, will move erratically and slowly, picking up goods at random, and as often as not, putting them down IN THE WRONG PLACE. They will circle, stop suddenly, repeat a route for no obvious reason, appear as if about to turn left then go right, and then go left, or suddenly walk backwards. All behaviours that we would not tolerate if we were driving. Yet we apologise to them when we suddenly bump into them or trip over them, or are poked in the eye by their umbrella (don't get me started on umbrellas) And being British, if they apologise first, we apologise right back at them. What I really want to do of course is punch them, very hard about the head until they fall over. And then hit them with a shovel. And then use the shovel to clear a path through the rest of the CSZ to get to the shoes. Having paid for only two hours parking I couldn't waste time, because in the weeks running up to Christmas, whilst the CSZ moves slowly, their partners in parking enforcement move like demented bees. Usain Bolt would have been put to shame by one keen parking enforcement official I saw, dashing from one car to another, checking each tyre was within the white lines and that the driver had paid the Bacon Tax.*
I foresee the CSZ problem getting worse, because last year nobody had any money and this year it seems we are coming out of the recession and have money to burn. And so they will be out more often and for longer spending cash and clogging up the shops so I can't.
Happily I fall into the category of LMCS a different kind of shopper altogether. As a Last Minute Christmas Shopper I may appear to be rushing about on Christmas Eve in blind terror, but I'm not. I know exactly what I want, where it is and how much it costs, and I have the right money ion my wallet. Sadly, there is none left when I get there. So I will buy everyone unsuitable shoes.
Sean* - Sean Connery - Coronary (Hull Rhyming Slang - famous for not necessarily rhyming or being very good)
Bacon Tax.* Bacon Rind - James Hind. (Hull Rhyming Slang) James Hind was famous for Highway Robbery, although not as popular as Dick Turpin.
Friday, 18 October 2013
Shakespeare. - Good fun but over rated.
I was never really into Shakespeare, but last night I sat through three productions of his plays, abbreviated mind you, but plays performed by local schools at Hull Truck Theatre. They were, in no particular order, Much ado about Nothing, The Tempest, and The Taming of the Shrew. If like me you have never really studied Shakespeare you will know little of the plots of these masterpieces, so having had the benefit I will summarise, thus:
Much Ado about Nothing was based in the 1960's, for reasons which didn't really become clear, yet the actors still spoke in Shakespearean English, which sort of put a weird slant on things. And it relied heavily on a 60's soundtrack. Very energetic performance though. I haven't a clue what it was about. Someone people got married at the end.
The Tempest, which starred my daughter Emma as Ariel was strictly old school Shakespeare, with the oldie language and costumes. She was very dynamic in her dancing, but what threw me is that whilst she was Ariel, so were fifteen or so other people. The spirit was omnipresent. I have no idea what it was about. Some people got married at the end.
Which brings me to the taming of the shrew, which was set in the roaring '20's, for reasons which didn't become clear. This included Groucho Marx and a poor mans Sammy Davis Junior, and a leading man who despite being a schoolboy looked about 30. Scenes of Domestic Violence were portrayed without warning. I have no idea what it was about. Some people got married at the end.
It was thoroughly enjoyable, if you like that sort of thing, which normally I don't. What have I learnt form the experience? Well, I have always maintained that William Shakespeare was over-rated. He was after all nothing more than a soap opera scriptwriter of this day - had he been around today he would have been writing for Eastenders, and penning classic lines like "Get out of my pub," and "Sort it out!"
As it is, so far as I can fathom, he wrote short stories with a romance, usually with some hitch, that ended happily ever after with a wedding. Mills and Boon would have loved him.
Much Ado about Nothing was based in the 1960's, for reasons which didn't really become clear, yet the actors still spoke in Shakespearean English, which sort of put a weird slant on things. And it relied heavily on a 60's soundtrack. Very energetic performance though. I haven't a clue what it was about. Someone people got married at the end.
The Tempest, which starred my daughter Emma as Ariel was strictly old school Shakespeare, with the oldie language and costumes. She was very dynamic in her dancing, but what threw me is that whilst she was Ariel, so were fifteen or so other people. The spirit was omnipresent. I have no idea what it was about. Some people got married at the end.
Which brings me to the taming of the shrew, which was set in the roaring '20's, for reasons which didn't become clear. This included Groucho Marx and a poor mans Sammy Davis Junior, and a leading man who despite being a schoolboy looked about 30. Scenes of Domestic Violence were portrayed without warning. I have no idea what it was about. Some people got married at the end.
It was thoroughly enjoyable, if you like that sort of thing, which normally I don't. What have I learnt form the experience? Well, I have always maintained that William Shakespeare was over-rated. He was after all nothing more than a soap opera scriptwriter of this day - had he been around today he would have been writing for Eastenders, and penning classic lines like "Get out of my pub," and "Sort it out!"
As it is, so far as I can fathom, he wrote short stories with a romance, usually with some hitch, that ended happily ever after with a wedding. Mills and Boon would have loved him.
Saturday, 28 September 2013
Themed Garden
This time last year I had a bank of trees at the bottom of my garden. I say trees, but many of them where shrubs or bushes, the likes of blackthorn and hawthorn, and any other sort of sharp pointy thorn, along with ivy, and a couple or three stout trees, the name of which escapes me, but which I will call "a bloody nuisance." Every year these trees grow higher and higher shading the lawn and the roof mounted solar panels, and every autumn they drop leaves all over the garden. Which I then have to tidy up. Like I say, a bloody nuisance. So in the end they got hacked down, year on year until last year when I invested in a chain saw and spent many days off and weekends getting them all out. All except the biggest stumps. These were an even bigger nuisance than the trees. Getting out the root ball and stump of a mature tree is a major undertaking. These buggers refused to simply die off, they kept trying to regrow, and I was permanently pulling new growth right throughout the summer. I tried digging them out, but after going down a couple of feet I ran out of enthusiasm and energy, and so they remained until this week, when in a state of renewed vigour I dug even further down tot get the roots right out. I had considered explosives, heavy plant machinery, a stump grinder and prayer, but in the end it was pure physical labour needed to get to the (excuse me) root of the problem.
I now have the big stump out, but my garden looks like a World War one theme garden, with a trench system and mounds of earth to protect from incoming fire. The crater must be over four feet deep and at least five feet in diameter. It's as though a bomb went off in the garden. This will take much remedial work to put right, but one thing is for sure - no trees will be planted there again. Not in my lifetime anyway.
I now have sunshine on my lawn for the first time in 17 years - such a pity winter is coming.
I now have the big stump out, but my garden looks like a World War one theme garden, with a trench system and mounds of earth to protect from incoming fire. The crater must be over four feet deep and at least five feet in diameter. It's as though a bomb went off in the garden. This will take much remedial work to put right, but one thing is for sure - no trees will be planted there again. Not in my lifetime anyway.
I now have sunshine on my lawn for the first time in 17 years - such a pity winter is coming.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
