Tuesday, 25 December 2007
Guess where
London Parking
' I saw first, big van come, you not park here.' I deduced from the frailties of his vocabulary that he was not from these shores. Resorting to stiff upper lip I hurriedly reported him to the Home Office, anti terrorist squad and the home guard.
Eventually we came to a car park that charged a mere £8 p.h. Later, on the way out, I had to photograph this sign. You can imagine the trouble I had following the signs to the exit with my car facing backwards. I know I don't need to say it but, How is it possible that someone can come up with sign like this? It's not like they're short of money: They could spend the 24 quid I gave them for a start.
£1.98
Merchandising
The true meaning of Christmas
Having said all that, I had Christmas dinner yesterday with all the trimmings (except Turkey or the pudding) with best mate and my girl. It was great. Also, I got a Powermonkey. How did I ever get along without one of those?
yey for counting
Wednesday, 19 December 2007
we've only got ten men
The passing movement when we did go on the offensive was startling and only impeded by something of a tendency to go one pass too many and by Steve Bennet's (the Ref) whistle blowing and poor decision making. The harsh sending off and a number of decisions that went against Spurs led to some pretty vitriolic anti-Bennet chants which accused him of being female genitalia and in the habit of playing on his home turf a lot. When he failed to award City what looked like a clear penalty in the second half the chants instantly became: " We love you Bennet, we do!" proving that Londoners have a fine sense of humour when they're winning.
Malbranque's goal around 8 minutes from time was the best. I got hugged by a lot of people. I didn't need reminding how important it all is but if I did, that emotional explosion would have done it.
I have to say that as I made my way back to the car park on the other side of the stadium, I began to regret some of the taunting chants and the bloody grin on my face (oh and the Spurs shirt and the clean and bright- and now officially lucky- bar scarf). It was OK though. I made it to the car just in time to sit in it for a full 90 minutes waiting for the traffic to get moving. It's funny how time works; those 90 minutes went much faster than the ones where we were waiting for the final whistle to blow.
vive la difference
The reminder about Christmas did seem to be a little superfluous. I myself will be preparing for the festivities on 22nd December. I have to nip out now and buy an inflatable sun child.
"Eid al Adha will be celebrated over 3 days starting from tomorrow Wednesday 19 December until the 21st December 2007.
A reminder of the other religious celebrations taking place this month: 5-12 December : Hanukkah was celebrated by our Jewish students and colleagues marking the festival of lights.
22 December: Winter Solstice- Yule will be celebrated by Pagans to mark when the Sun child is reborn; regarded as the New Year in the Northern Tradition Yule.
24 December Christmas Eve: Celebrated by Christians to mark the preparations of the birth of Jesus.
25 December Christmas Day: Celebrated by Christians to mark the birth of Jesus.
26 December Boxing Day: Celebrated by Christians, traditionally the opening of church poor boxes.
26 December: Zarathost Diso, marks the birth of the prophet Zarathushtra within the Zoroastrian religion.
May I take this opportunity to wish you Eid Mubarak a Merry Christmas, Best Wishes for Yuletide and Zarathost a peaceful break and a Very Happy New Year."
I'll also be sending a complaint in after the holidays that there is no mention here of the festival of Z'AAGHTH which, as some will know, is on the 23rd December this year (Terran Calendar) and is the Klingon festival of baby stabbing.
Saturday, 15 December 2007
jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/eng_prem/7134145.stm
Friday, 14 December 2007
on the plus side
I was there
1984 UEFA Cup final
From a BBC report:
After beating Yugoslavian side Hajduk Split to reach the Final, Spurs travelled to Belgium to face the legendary Anderlecht, who were also the reigning holders.
The first leg was a strange affair, with the visitors standing firm against a side unbeaten at home in European competitions for ten years, much to the surprise of many who thought Tottenham's defensive frailties would surface from the beginning.
On the hour, the English side took the lead, Paul Miller rising above the defence to thunder a header home from Micky Hazard's corner.
Tony Parks was the hero of Tottenham's 1984 UEFA Cup success. A Morton Olsen goal five minutes from time gave Anderlecht parity, although Spurs had grabbed the crucial away goal.
A booking for Steve Perryman meant that the Spurs skipper missed the second leg, and manager Keith Burkinshaw was without the services of Glenn Hoddle and Ray Clemence while Argentine Ossie Ardilles was on the bench.
Clemence's replacement between the posts was an unknown by the name of Tony Parks. Neither he nor the Spurs faithful could imagine the fate that awaited him.
The Belgians took the lead after sixty minutes through Alex Czerniatinski. For the next fifteen minutes it looked as if Spurs were to lose, but things changed when Ardilles replaced Miller.
He instigated the move which led to Hazard crossing the ball to the centre and Graham Roberts emerging from nowhere to score the equaliser.
A goaless extra-time followed, and so it went to penalties. Parks saved from Olsen to give Spurs a lead in the shootout and after six straight successes, it was left to Danny Thomas to win Spurs the Cup, but he saw his kick saved.
The last of the ten penalties was taken by the Icelandic international, Gudjohnsen and Parks flung himself to the right to push the ball away and etch his name permanently in Spurs' history.
Mess
The flat is the biggest mess. I have spent the last two hours wandering from room to room picking things up in one place then putting them down somewhere else. If tidying meant doing that a lot I'd be the tidiest bloke on the planet. The boy's room isn't the worst but it is a bit of a tip. There are sweet wrappers all over the place, sometimes concealed by a stiff parody of a sock but more usually strewn in such a way that I imagine him discarding them like Henry VIII lobbing chicken bones over his shoulder. I considered venting a bit of steam over the phone but, luckily for him and for me, my sister phoned and reminded me of my would-be hypocrisy. As a (it has to be said) somewhat grubby teenager I got used to the distinctly malodorous fug in my bedroom and resented the complaints from sister and mum. I eventually found the energy (time wasn't exactly an issue then) to tidy properly. Under some paper which itself was stuck to the carpet under the bed I found some still soft centred crap (literal crap, not rubbish) that my dog must have left for me a couple a months before.
Time moved on and I now live in a worse world: I appreciate tidiness. I function well in an ordered environment. I can relax when everything is in its place. BUT... I don't have the tidy gene. My brain is wired in such a way that if it registers an empty surface, it will find a way to cover it with crap (the metaphorical stuff though so a small blessing). From where I'm sat now I can see loads of covered surfaces just by glancing over my shoulder. Actually, there's barely room for this keyboard on the desk upon which I am typing this tidy-avoidance post. Pens and some unpaid bills I understand but why is there hair gel, some plasters, some little stacking blokes, a banana and a three pairs of boxer shorts?
I sometimes wonder how I manage to hold down a job; You'd think the boxer shorts, plasters and little stackable blokes that are cluttering the surfaces of my brain would prevent me from even finding my way to work in the mornings.
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
tidings
Of course I have had a few pleasant things in the post: letters from my girl; packages with stuff I ordered off e-bay; a pack of stickers and a broken pen from the children with mortal illnesses campaign. You can imagine the lifting of spirits I felt when I received what was obviously a Christmas card yesterday when I got in from work. I savoured the hint of glitter on the envelope; I studied the post mark and wondered who I knew down there; I opened it carefully and appreciated the cartoon donkey on the front. I was a little disappointed when I read the greeting: "From everyone at your Hyundai servicing centre."
I shouldn't be churlish though. I don't do cards myself. It's as much as I can do to sort it for family birthdays. My colleague makes a charity donation equivalent to x number of cards and stamps. If I did that for all my friends it'd cost me nearly 2 quid. If anyone I know is reading this: Happy Christmas OK. In fact, happy Christmas and Eid to everyone. a robin yesterday
Monday, 10 December 2007
Equilibrium
It seems to me after much shower and car time rumination that the amount of time I have available to blog is inversely proportionate to the amount of interesting things I do and would like to write about. The distinct lack of December entries has left me with that nagging feeling like I have forgotten to lock the front door or turn the gas off. Actually that reminds me of when I was working for a delivery company in London. One of the blokes that worked there (so I was told after his sudden departure into HM custody) was asked to work late and he said: 'Sure- Oh no- I forgot, I can't, I have to let my wife out.' Anyway, the suspicions were raised and police got involved and they discovered that he was in the habit of locking his wife in a cupboard before he went to work each day. How the hell she was sposed to get all the cleaning and cooking done from there I'll never know.
So, this last week:
1.I have driven fast round Silverstone in a Lotus Exige
2.been driven pant stainingly fast round same
3.worked a lot, putting in three evenings and forgetting to take off proportionate mornings
3a.marked two lots of assignments
4.dictated loads of stuff to my girl who typed it all up (OK, not so tough or time consuming that one)
5.been to a conference
6.been xmas shopping
7.seen Spurs win against Man City (yey)
8.sighed a very big sigh of relief
9.chuckled at the thought of A*****l losing to Boro
10.realised my brakes were dodgy and got them fixed just before the drive to London
11.did various things like food shopping, clothes washing, shirt ironing and tidying.
Some great stuff in there mixed with the not so great. I'd gladly do all the humdrum again if I could find a way to NEVER go xmas shopping again.
Monday, 3 December 2007
a day's work
Friday, 30 November 2007
Misplaced anger
Maybe I shouldn't get angry. This guy is obviously not the full shilling. Here are a couple of things he has said in the past:
'He's got a brain under his hair.'
'If there are any managers out there with a bottomless pit, I'm sure that they would be interested in these two Russians.'
'He wasn't really trying to score with that shot.'
'He hits it into the corner of the net as straight as a nut'
'This is a real cat and carrot situation.'
'Eighty per cent of teams who score first in matches go on to win them. But they may draw some. Or occasionally.'
2-0 and they... err...messed it up
latvian cultural tour
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Quality
Thanks S for spotting this though why you'd even understand why it is worthy of note shocks me.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Dinner
In fact the more I look at them, the more I get the sense that these are not happy faces at all but 'grimacing awkwardly' faces. They're embarrased about their high salt and sugar content and, frankly, are hoping that I get at least a little something from the beans and fish. Although one of them is giving mea bit of a look in this picture. I ate that bastard first.
Philharmonic in Liverpool (the pub not the music)
Auschwitz Birkenau + snow
Saturday, 24 November 2007
Straight outta...
Must get one of these caps. No-one would mess with me. I know this is sposed to be a nails district and these chaps go around killing each other using hoes or hoods or something but somehow this look doesn't strike fear. Maybe the pink one would scare me; but only if I caught a glimpse of it in the mirror when I was bending down to pick up the soap in the prison shower.
Friday, 23 November 2007
English Class
Monday, 19 November 2007
Role reversal
“Look, you are shattered, why don’t you just accept it and go to bed?”
“Can you stop playing with that a minute and get ready.”
“I told you that you’d need to sleep late if you went to bed late.”
“Can you PLEASE get out of the kitchen before I spill boiling gravy over you.”
Yep, had mum and partner up this weekend to stay. It doesn’t matter how much other people warn you, looking after parents is a 24/7 job.
Saturday, 17 November 2007
Memory trigger
Not the original but a heck of a cover and...much more importantly my girl loves this. Reminds her of a nice time. Better to have this in our heads than duh duh de le de du le de der de (that circus music)
Friday, 16 November 2007
Vorsprung Durch Technic
My son made this when he got his phone last year. When I was a boy we had flick books.
Kung Shite
I Hope You Like Pain - The most amazing videos are a click away
So unfair
"How? My God!" I shouted, "that's outrageous." I planned my complaint letter to the chemistry authorities when the boy said: "Yeah, they chose all the intelligent kids from their schools."
Arsenal fans
Not sure I agree with the article writer's conclusion though I have to say I feel discomfort with the whole 'yid' thing. I shall continue to ponder. Maybe we should go back to the days when the typical shout was "Come on you Lillywhites!"
Thursday, 15 November 2007
Li-Ver-Pool
What appealed to me though was that Knotty Ash is actually a place. Until yesterday I thought it was a place made up by Ken Dodd. I nearly crashed when I saw this sign. I also nearly crashed again when I attempted to take this photo.
you'll be a man my son
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
My head is the wrong shape
I was OK till I got home and started to think about a weird eugenic experiment our science teacher did once where we all had to line up according to head size. I was right at the big end of the line. Of course teasing ensued and I can't say what aspect of the curriculum we were addressing either.It was worse for Andrew 'pinhead' Jones* mind you. This memory and the whole head shape thing has got me paranoid. Already I stand behind people I am being photographed with, especially if they seem a bit on the small headed side. I'm now going to have to take shape into consideration. Big hair on top is just not an option.
It's hard to believe I had a fight with a kid when I was about 8 because his head was too big. I guess I am being punished according to my crime.
When my son was first born we took him to an elderly relative's house. Everyone else had been doing the cooing and aaahing that you expect but this woman came up and said: 'eeh, ain't he got a nice shaped head though.' Needless to say the 'though' disturbed me for weeks. After that she didn't say anything about the boy but she did go into the kitchen and re-appear moments later with a dustbin bag full of packets of stale crisps from her nephew's shop from which we were allowed to choose our own packet. I had salt and vinegar.
* name changed because a) I am more sensitive than my colleague and b) I can't remember the pea head's name.
spurs 4 wigan 0
Worth watching for the Brazilian style passing that led to a near miss by Jenas. Of course I am not getting carried away but compared to some of the abject performances I have seen this season, this certainly lifted the spirits. Just seeing Berba smile (and do the baby celebration thing) would have been enough.
Chemistry
Monday, 12 November 2007
Without wanting to seem trivial...
Spurs won 4-0
Jenas had a good game
Berbatov looked interested
We didn't concede
We put some sweet passes together (notice the use of 'we' rather than 'they' there, like I was somehow responsible and deserving of credit)
Of course I and S and the boy had to give up our tickets because of my work. The whole lot of us are starting to look like seriously unlucky mascots (that's not the right word I know). If Ramos gets wind of this he'll be preventing us from taking up our seats at the next game. If Jol hears about it, he might have a case for compensation from us. We are sorry.
"I saw a Mountain"
And more holy than the Mountain of Sinai
Not in a dream. It was real.
On this world this mountain stood,
Such a mountain I saw--of Jewish shoes in Majdanek.
Such a mountain--such a mountain I saw.
And suddenly, a strange thing happened…
The mountain moved…
And the thousands of shoes arranged themselves
By size--by pairs--and in rows--and moved.
Hear! Hear the march.
Hear the shuffle of shoes left behind--that which Remained.
From small, from large, from each and every one.
Make way for the rows--for the pairs--
For the generations—for the years.
The shoe army--it moves and moves.
"We are the shoes, we are the last witnesses.
We are the shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers,
From Prague, Paris, and Amsterdam,
And because we are only made of stuff and leather
And not of blood and flesh, each one of us avoided the hellfire.
We shoes--that used to go strolling in the market
Or with the bride and groom the chuppah
We shoes from simple Jews, from butchers and Carpenters
From crocheted booties of babies just beginning to walk and go
On happy occasions, weddings and even until the time
Of giving birth, to a dance, to exciting places in life…
Or quietly--to a funeral.
Unceasingly we go. We tramp.
The hangman never had the chance to snatch us into his
Sack of loot--now we go to him.
Let everyone hear the steps, which flow as tears,
The steps that measure out the judgment."
I saw a mountain
Higher than Mt. Blanc
And more holy then the Mountain of Sinai.
Friday, 9 November 2007
Lessons from Auschwitz
Thursday, 8 November 2007
Teen Spirit
- young people have no respect
- the youth of today don't know how lucky they are
- I never had X, Y or Z in my day
- kids are so rude
- this sentence is too damn long and complex
I was proud of the kids that we took to Poland on Tuesday: Two hundred 17-18 year olds on planes & coaches and on their feet for much of the day in sub zero temperatures and driving rain. Of course you'd expect anyone visiting Auschwitz to be decorous but that wasn't my experience when I was there before. Some of the American visitors were the most noticable; complaining about the toilets and the lack of refreshments available in the camp and totally oblivious to the irony at the heart of their complaints. In their defence, maybe I only noticed the Americans because I could understand what they were saying. Perhaps there's a World wide irony reduction agreement that the UK have decided to abstain from.
It didn't take long for these young people to make the link between their own discomfort and the relative inconsequence of it when compared to the people they were learning about. These weren't a bunch of posh kids either: many of them were 'proper cockney' kids from the most deprived areas of London. They asked intelligent questions and listened intently to their guides. Some (re-assuringly) reverted to type on the plane on the way home but must were subdued and reflective. It's a shame that our common perceptions can't be redressed a little somehow. I know mine have by being a part of this but I also know that stories about young people making us proud don't sell papers.
Monday, 5 November 2007
World view
Actually, the likelihood of anyone uttering the above, especially in allo allo English is virtually zero as most of the hits are from the UK. I like the idea of people randomly happening upon me; I do the same by clicking 'next blog' from time to time. Too often I get some dodgy porno blog which ruins the whole thing but I can get totally engrossed in what my boy would almost certainly call 'random err stuff'.
The best thing about the world map though is that it shows me that at least 1 person from Greece and another from Poland has, at least for the briefest of moments, had my blog on their screens. The best one though is that little dot right in the middle of Brazil. No doubt this is a long lost tribe using crystal skulls to access the outside world's data in readiness for the return of Eric von Daniken's Space gods. Or something.
(The actual link and map are in the column on the right)
Boro 1, Juan de la Cruz Ramos Cano's blue and white army 1
Radical team selection.
Dressing room shake up.
New life.
New hope.
Same result.
Surprise surprise, the less than mighty Spurs take the lead then lose it again and only get one point. Middlesborough was eerily sunny as we drove in on Saturday. My boy was telling me as we drove in that it is rated as one of (if not THE) bleakest town's in the UK. Best mate, who is from that neck of the woods confirmed that it's famous for its permanent grey, industrial fug.
Already I have forgotten much of the game except our big named boss' decision to drop Berba and Keane to the bench and Bent's well taken goal. We still showed defensive frailty but Dawson looked more commanding and the back line was a heck of a lot straighter than at Newcastle. Midfield still lacking something; not least a spark from Jenas. Nevertheless, Lennon was lively with his mincing little runs down the right and Malbranque was penetrative until he went limp in the second half.
Like last year, there was something sad about the empty seats in the ground. Especially sad was the fact that the most noise in the ground (apart from the Spurs fans) was from a cluster of about 100 kids in little red Boro caps. They squaked 'Red army' throughout the second half. I thought the Spurs response of 'Your support is f*****g s**t' was mean and wholly uncalled for. 'Your support is jolly young' would have been more in keeping with the age profile and mood.
Friday, 2 November 2007
Sis Army!
A week is a long time in football (I hope)
' One team tries to get the ball in the goal and the goal player catches it then the other team have a go. Some players aren't allowed to score I think. Oh...and the referee isn't allowed to kick it.'
I'm not joking about this either. Despite this woeful ignorance she enjoyed it immensely which is a real shame because she's clearly an unlucky mascot and we're not taking her again.
Going to Boro tomorrow...
Juande we will win again (that is not a prediction)
Saturday, 27 October 2007
Tolerance and perspective
Some responses from children he has spoken to can be found here: Jo Perl/ Amazon
Sticking my neck out
p.s. this kind of blind optimism makes disappointments all the more intense. I do know that. I am trying to encourage my boy to be more pragmatic so he can avoid some of the pain!
Amore de mis amores
Sunday, 21 October 2007
Scary chin
Inter spem et metum
It’s amazing how many of the things I don’t like in people I see in myself from time to time. I do at least two of these:
*Leap to conclusions
*Make generalisations and base action on stereotype
*Blame other people for one’s own mistakes
*Neglect hand washing after going to the toilet
*Demand paper evidence trails that no-one will read
*Sneer and/ or be aloof
*Eat with mouth open
*Eschew debate
*Impose dogma on those too young or uneducated to think for themselves
*Drive like an idiot
*Get involved in a multi million pound people and drug trafficking ring
I could go on but one last one for now is:
*Go on about stuff ad nauseum
It’s funny too that out of all of these the one I’d least like anyone to think of me is the not washing hands one. Just to make things clear: I wash my hands almost compulsively. This includes after I have shaken hands or received something from someone who ‘looks the type’ to not wash his hands (and it’s usually a bloke).
So, I happily chastised myself as I approached Valley Parade yesterday for my first visit to the home of Bradford City. I only realised I had assumed a bastion of white working class fat blokes in ill fitting club shirts when I saw one of those mini caravans of children snaking its way along the road to the football ground. All the kids were asian and they were being led (and marshalled from the back) by a group of youthful lads from a range of ethnic backgrounds. I shared their smiles as I drove to within 400 yards of the ground and still managed to park.
I got in cheap because I was lucky enough to bump into a guy that wanted to offload his daughter’s ticket. Stupidly, I didn’t make a note of the seat number so had to hang around the bars and pie shops until kick off when, I thought, I’d be able to spot an empty seat and park myself there. This extended period under the stands enabled me to engage in a bit of amateur anthropology and, yet again, I was delighted to see my prejudice shattered by frequent clusters of mixed groups: Asian and white men chatting about the Liverpool/ Everton game and black guys with thick Bradfordian accents spitting pie crumbs over mates as they talked about the likelihood of a City win. Of course, the crowd was nowhere near as diverse as the local demographic but it’s a start and all seemed positive.
At kick off I took a seat but then had to move when its season ticket holder arrived. He needed extra space for his armful of pies so I shifted a few rows back rather than along. This happened twice more until I settled on a seat which was still empty 15 minutes into the game. An obviously pissed bloke arrived at about half three and sat next to me. I was in his son’s seat but that didn’t matter as his son was doing something else. This bloke was chatty and liked the fact that it was my first game there and that I wasn’t ‘too fucking stuck up like most cockney bastards’. Things were going OK til he said to me: ‘you chose the right stand mate- all the pakis sit over there.’ In an instant he shattered my new found faith in common decency, brotherly love etc. and simultaneously (as I merely muttered ‘Dunno what you’re talking about’ and turned my back on him) made me feel crap for not standing up and smashing his beer soaked and pie filled face in.
One thing is for sure though: top of my list of things I don’t like is that kind of bigotry, especially when it’s coupled with an assumption that I want to buy into it because I’m white.
Friday, 19 October 2007
Plain English
"The collection of our former printer fleet will commence next week, starting with the earliest areas that had access to the campus managed solution and finishing with the latest areas (some of our admin poeple who had the most complex needs). The process should be non-intrusive as staff are working from the site inventory that the printers generated when we carried out the first geographic discovery - and they should simply need to disconnect and remove printers that the College has allocated to each area."
Thursday, 18 October 2007
Punctuation Pedantry
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
John Apu Smith
'Who is it?' I asked abruptly, certain that it wasn't a friend since hardly anyone uses this number and it definitely wasn't my sister or my girl.
'John Smith sir.' he said without a trace of irony. I laughed so much and amidst my laughter told him to sod off (in a friendly way) that he must have realised I wasn't going to buy whatever it was he was flogging. Poor bloke just hung up. Maybe his name is John Smith and I seriously offended him. More likely it's just another daft manifestation of the call centre phone sell thing that remorselessly bedevils our existence these days.
Sunday, 14 October 2007
Chaiya Chaiya
Randomness
running bloke in clouds
Saturday, 13 October 2007
I thought I was being conned
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
Time off for good grammar
"All students should notify there tutors in advance if there are going to be absent from College for Eid celebrations."
The way I see it is that there are three homonyms available here: their, there and they're. If they're aware of the three then at each stage their chances of getting it right are 1 in 3 even if their understanding of the difference is zero. So I suppose the odds have worked against them twice within 6 words. I have little doubt that some colleague who is even more pedantic than me will point it out (directly I mean rather than on some random blog that no-one reads). Whether they are shamed by this or see it as inconsequential may well be determined by a range of factors such as age and innate defensiveness. All I know is that I get embarrassed by my 'typos' but I'm glad when S and C and mum (and my boy) point them out.
This reminded me of one of those supposedly genuine collections of letters full of mistakes and ambiguities. I used to use these with English GCSE students: I'd get them to re-write them and eradicate all the nonsense. The worrying thing was that half the time they'd say: " There's nothing wrong with this one."
1. Dear School: Please excuse John from being absent on Jan. 28, 29, 30, 31,32, and also 33.
2. Please excuse Dianne from being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps.
3. Please excuse Johnnie for being. It was his father's fault.
4. Chris will not be in school because he has an acre in his side.
5. John has been absent because he had two teeth taken off his face.
6. Excuse Gloria. She has been under the doctor.
7. Lillie was absent from school yesterday because she had a going over.
8. My son is under the doctor's care and should not take fizical ed. Please execute him.
9. Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hit in the growing part.
10. My daughter was absent yesterday because she was tired. She spent this weekend with the Marines.
11. Please excuse Joyce from P.E. for a few days. Yesterday she fell off a tree and misplaced her hip.
Name
Cunningly I called one of the waiters over:
“What’s your boss’s name?” I asked, pointing him out at the bar.
“I don’t know but will find,” he replied with a conspiratorial grin. He returned about five minutes later with a double conspiratorial grin (but no food):
“His name YAKVADAD.”
“What? I’m sure he wasn’t called that when I knew him, how do you spell it?”
“Y…A…A…Y….J….X…”
Eventually I found out his actual name and learnt a salutary lesson: When you forget someone’s name don’t ask one of his employees that doesn’t speak very good English.
Talking of names, S noticed the other day that the pool of names seems to be getting smaller. We both have ‘best’ friends with the same name even though they are different sexes. My son shares a name with one of the blokes renting my flat and so on. Maybe it’s time to do that seventies thing again where people started to make up names like ‘Sky’. The new ones could reflect the zeitgeist: Bluetongue, Baghdad, Eco, WMD, Suicidebomber, Microsoft or even Zeitgeist.
That wouldn’t work in Switzerland mind you. Apparently, you can’t call your kid anything weird as all names have to be from an approved list. That’s probably why they’re a bunch of boring squares who never have wars and have a high standard of living.
Monday, 8 October 2007
Clothes
It's hard to determine all the other factors that contribute to my inability to look smart but it's something I have been aware of since a very young age: even in my school photos I am the only one without his tie done up properly. My mum won't thank me for saying this but it may in part be due to the budgetary limitations that were par for the course in the 1970s. Many of my clothes were hand-me-downs or, if they were shop bought, had to last a lot longer than the stuff kids have in their wardrobes now. I recall complaining bitterly that the trousers my mum or nan had made for me (out of this weird 'bobbly' blue material) didn't have flies in them. Instead they had an elasticated waistband which necessitated pulling the trousers down every visit to the toilet. I think that's one of the reasons why I don't drink enough water today. I have recently got out of the habit of getting my arse out in urinals though.
Underwear was always a big problem. My son wouldn't even entertain the idea of wearing 'pants' and he would laugh in my face if I presented him with underwear that had some kind of childish motif on them. I didn't get much choice it has to be said. I tried not to make it an issue until, aged 11, I asked my mum if I could have some new underwear. "They'll do you for another couple of years," she said as I waved some moth eaten, nylon yellow cacks with a little blue anchor on the front. "But it says age 3-5 in the label."
Don't get me wrong: I'm not going for a hard done by sympathy vote here. It's how it was back then. The necessary prudence had a two-fold effect on me as I got older. With my son I tend to buy him everything he wants: clothes are cheaper by a long way- not only relatively but also in many instances pound for pound. If I had a time machine I'd take dozens of pairs of Primark socks and pants back to the 70s and make a killing. Actually, that might not be my priority but it'd be worth having up my tattered sleeve. With me, though, I tend to baulk at spending more than a fiver for a T shirt and 40 quid for a pair of trousers still feels extortionate (I am assured by many that this is cheap but still can't believe it).
The other weird thing is that people who were my current age then were always impeccably smart. My grandad wore a tie out to picnics and I doubt he ever got so much as a drop of salad cream on it.
Sunday, 7 October 2007
Too busy and distracted...
This is a slideshow of all the photos on here. It cheered me up even though it starts with a grave stone.
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
I knew it 2
I knew it
I am not an avid Daily Mail reader of course but this article will give my doctor a strong case if she decides my heart needs me to switch allegiance.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/sport/football.html?in_article_id=485209&in_page_id=1779
Monday, 1 October 2007
Sunday, 30 September 2007
Carling Cup Draw (w/b Oct 29th)
Luton v Everton (2-3)
Portsmouth v Blackburn (3-1)
Chelsea v Leicester (1-1, Leicester win replay)
Sheffield Utd v Arsenal (0-1, flukey goal goes in off ref's arse in 91st min. Sheff Utd have four perfectly good goals disallowed. Everyone bangs on about how great Arses' kids are. I puke)
SPURS V BLACKPOOL (4-1)
Bolton v Manchester City (0-2)
Coventry v West Ham (2-2, Irons scrape through in replay)
Liverpool v Cardiff (5-0, too easy for 'pool)
Public prayer: If I get one right, please let it be Spurs' result. Failing that, a stonking for the arrogant SOBs from the Emirates at the hands of Sheffield would compensate quite well, thank you.
How not to deal with problems
Denial- bury it under the carpet and hope it goes away. All that I’m left with is a carpet with a huge lump in the middle of it that’s so big I can’t even get my Hoover over it, let alone ensure it is clean. Of course if I did illustrate this one with one of my problems then I wouldn’t be able to keep it under the carpet. I’d have a slightly less lumpy rug but it’d be out there: acknowledged and demanding resolution. Thinking about that makes my head spin almost to the point of it being something that I could label a problem. Martin Jol says all the Spurs strikers are competing on an equal footing for their places in the starting line up. He denies that there is a rift between him and Jermaine Defoe. His nice guy status means that we can only take him on his word which means that this is a classic case of denial. Where will it end up? No doubt one or the other of them will no longer be in the employ of Spurs. The most likely scenario is that JD ends up at Everton or Aston Villa and puts three past Robinson in his first game against his old club. This, of course, is an unsatisfactory resolution. 30,000 voices chanting ‘Jermaine Defoe, he’s a yiddo’ seem incapable of encouraging the big man to even accept that he has a carpet, let alone accept that there’s anything underneath it. (I think that taking analogies too far is another problem for me but luckily I don’t errr…brush that one etc. etc.)
Putting it into a global perspective- This is the classic that we learn from our parents and swear we will never impose on our own offspring: “ It could be worse”, “People are starving in Africa”, “Worse things happen at sea”. It may be that perspective is everything but it really does only work from the outside. Any kind of physical or emotional attachment to the problem and an attempt to put it into the wider picture does not, as is anticipated, make you realise the relative insignificance of your problem; all it does is leave you with a bitter self loathing on the lines of “ God, look at me, I’m getting in a stew about this, how pathetic am I?” Spurs, for example, are languishing in 18th position in the Premier league. The ‘glass-is-half-full’ types may well argue that this makes them the 18th best club in the country at this moment in time. They may remind me that for two years running we have been fifth best. They may try to argue that since the Premier league is one of the best in the world that this actually makes Spurs one of the World’s top clubs. They will also implore me to consider the plight of Notts Forest or Leeds (actually that does make me feel a bit better). Ultimately though I’m left feeling like a spoilt brat a) because, yeah, it is only football and a lot of teams have it a lot worse and b) it still really, really matters.
Talking to someone about it but not really- this is my favourite. I get to pretend that I am being mature and sensible by saying ‘yes, x and y are troubling me; these things make me feel a, b and c.” This may be the way in to those intense counselling sessions you read about or see Tony Soprano engage in, but it’s nothing more than a limp parody. Nothing is resolved. By ‘getting it off my chest’ I have merely shifted the discomfort from heart to brain. By sharing it I have not halved it; at worst I have doubled it by making someone else stress about me. Martin Jol does this every week on Match of the Day. He hints to Spurs supporters that he is aware of a defensive frailty or an issue with strikers scoring goals. We wait for him to go deeper, to explore the realistic and perhaps revolutionary remedy but what does he do? He goes with the same line up and shares the problem again the following week.
Blame someone else. I don’t have referees to blame but I do shout at people who don’t deserve it when I do something wrong. I think it goes without saying that this is ultimately self destructive. Having said that, Sunderland’s goal on the first day of the season was clearly over time and we should definitely have had a penalty against the Arses to put us two up etc etc….
Here’s one problem I am willing to come clean about: I have boring work to do. Instead I have typed this. Engaging in displacement activity makes my stomach churn with anxiety. Phew, that feels better, and I guess a lot of people have it worse and, anyway, it’s not my fault this work is so boring…
Sunday, 23 September 2007
Martin Jol no longer loves me
Play oop Shaymen
Hair cut
Anyway, I went in and waited a bit till the barber had finished some other guy's hair. Eventually I went and sat in the chair while the barber fiddled around a bit. He looked nervous actually and it wasn't long before I realised it was because he hardly spoke any English and, presumably, wasn't used to non Pakistani clients. He grinned at my reflection in the mirror and asked :'Haircut?' I smiled and replied: 'err no, two pounds of potatoes please.' He looked totally bemused, not least because he knew the word potatoes but didn't really get the rest of the sentence. I decided that stupid jokes were going to get me nowhere and tried to explain what I wanted. He nodded enthusiastically throughout my explanation but it was clear that it was a bit of an effort. In the end he just cut a bit off, put my glasses back on my face, showed me and said 'cut more?' to which I replied 'Yes.' We continued like that til I got (roughly) what I wanted. It's as good as pretty much any cut I have had recently. I asked him how much and he said '£3.50' I couldn't believe it: I gave him a 2 quid tip and was still 5 quid better off than if I'd had it done at my regular place in London.
Afterwards I did worry that maybe the only price he could say in English was £3.50 but dismissed this. I will definitely go there again.
(By the way, I waffled a bit here so that I wouldn't have to see that diabolical picture of Berbatov when I logged on.)
Friday, 21 September 2007
Guess who
Thursday, 20 September 2007
6-1 to Spurs 1-0 to Ball boy
Adeus Jose
"Wenger has a real problem with us and I think he is what you call in England a voyeur. He is someone who likes to watch other people. There are some guys who, when they are at home, have this big telescope to look into the homes of other people and see what is happening. Wenger must be one of them - and it is a sickness."
Shocking, for sure but a whole lot more articulate than the Spurs chant to Wenger : 'Sit down you Paedophile'. it's a wonder Wenger doesn't try to sue the entire crowd after a derby game at WHL. Mourinho will no doubt be missed by Chelski fans; some of them have already said to me 'good riddance', 'he wasn't going anywhere this season with us.' But, as we all know, they are sick to their stomachs. So soon the glory days are over. How long before they are just like Spurs again? Not long I think.
Birthday challenge #2
Joe Game Joe's birthday Game Use the arrow keys to 'catch' blocks with the letters (or ...
-
I'm bored with winter. I need blue sky and mountains or gree or sea that glares so much you can't look at it.
-
See the full gallery on Posterous After a year where my car cost me three arms and two legs just to keep it on the road, I finally said...
-
When a button comes off one of my shirts it's invariably the one at the bottom. I could tuck my shirt in but there's enough for my w...