Postcard from South Africa
Thanks to mobile phones, Facebook and other ways to keep in touch, it seems odd to get a postcard, but one arrived yesterday from Miss P in Cape Town. She says it pretty much sums up her South African experience — everyone seems to be laughing and smiling all the time. I suppose they can be happy with their climate.
She also mentions seeing two whales which was nice, except that when she elaborated on the phone, her vantage point was in the ocean in the middle of a surfing lesson.
Marriage Made in Heaven
Fish and chips were a bit of a treat when I was a lad. Maybe once a week I was sent to Pearson’s chippie with a deep dish to collect the family’s meal, getting a bag of batter scraps to eat on the way home as a reward.
As I grew older, this great delicacy came wrapped in old newspapers that soaked up the grease and vinegar and made a special scrunching sound when screwed up after you’d finished, the sound of the remains of the salt scratching against the paper.
A Very British Coup
I’m in the process of re-reading A Very British Coup by Chris Mullin who stood down as an MP this year. I’d forgotten what a well-written book it was and quite prescient too in describing the causes of many of the of both country and politics that have befallen us since it was published in 1982.
The reason I’m reading it is as a prelude to the second volume of Mullin’s diaries which lays bare the terminal stages of the Labour government. An email from Amazon tells me it was despatched today.
Fashion Victim
I’m taking a terrible risk with copyright here by scanning this image from the Sunday Times Style magazine. I wouldn’t need to if they didn’t now charge to view online and could have just linked to it. So I may be sued from hell to Huddersfield, but this has to be seen and said.
It’s the regular What are you wearing? that features on the inside back cover alongside Mrs Mills. Until now, I’ve just taken passing interest, enough to make me think they must have missed an exclamation mark off the end of the title, and I’ve only just started to actually read the thing. It’s hilarious.
F is for Fish
My ABC Wednesday post is inspired by this photo which appeared on my daughter’s Facebook page last week — F is for Fish!
It was taken at the Two Oceans Aquarium in Cape Town where she is teaching at the moment. The name obviously honours the Atlantic and Indian Oceans which meet at the Cape. They had a pool where you could touch starfish, sea urchins, sponges, and other furry things that she couldn’t remember having been too busy taking photos.
Felt Tip Top
I only wish my printer worked as well as this one.
Ootingshay Arrotspay
Of all the creatures in all the world, why an Amazonian Manatee? If my power animal was from that neck of the woods, you’d think it would have delightful coloured plumage and be flitting about in the trees.
And my binary translation. 01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01010000 01100001 01110010 01110010 01101111 01110100 01110011. What are the chances of that? Just zeros and ones. Not a two or five or an eight in sight.
The one redeeming feature, according to the US Census Bureau, fewer than 0.001% of US residents have the first name ‘Shooting’ and fewer than 0.001% have the surname ‘Parrots’. They’re only guessing, but I must be the only American called Shooting Parrots.
Except I’m not American.
Seriously though, the link picked up my YouTube stuff, as well as blog posts, Tumblr, FlavorsMe and Arkayne. There are no hiding places these days.
Gloria Oates
I went to the funeral of Gloria Oates today held at Manchester Cathedral where there was a congregation of hundreds paying their respects.
Gloria was my first boss in the NHS. She had worked her way from nurse to become AGM with North Western RHA in 1985, in between times having five daughters with her husband, Graham. You can read more about her career here, but suffice to say she was a formidable woman.
Chunky Monkey
I don’t receive many presents (awww) but when I do, they’re memorable, Sometimes quite literally. Yesterday I was given a small box of sweets that whisked me back to my childhood.
They’re the pineapple chunks that I’ve posed in a jar on the left. Fifty years ago they were a treat from Mrs Taylor’s toffee shop at 3d a quarter when I got my weekly ‘spends’. {That’s three old pence for four ounces.}
I loved them and would scoff one after another even though I knew that sucking their hard, sugar-coated roughness would leave the roof of my mouth raw. I also suspect they were responsible for many of my childhood visits to the dentist. Worth every filling.
My Flickr Stream
A Whole Lotta Links
Other Blogs (18)
- Conspiracy & Quackery (14)
- Fun (15)
- Seriously Good (15)
- History (14)
- Sport (11)
- Politics (22)
- Media (13)
Commentator’s Claret-y
There was considerable pressure to ban alcohol from football grounds in the 1970s and 1980s and it is commonly assumed that this was a response to growing crowd violence and hooliganism.
In fact it was an attempt to stop BBC commentators making complete asses of themselves as this half-time report from the League Cup replay between the Uniteds of Manchester and Oxford illustrates.
Read the rest of ‘Commentator’s Claret-y’