Last month, we had a Jigsaw frenzy. We were ploughing through them, in case they went out of fashion. They might become banned on account of their severely addictive characteristics or similar Health and Safety reason.
We completed a fiendish 1,000 piece jigsaw of the U.S., followed by a 500 piece, called the “Corner Shop”, courtesy of Kathy, and then a 1,000 piece map of Great Britain. These were all done on our Grand Piano, a natural place on which to complete a jigsaw. Those of you, who have ever tried this, will realise that.
Back to the jigsaw of Great Britain (England, Wales and Scotland, for those of you not sure about the constituent parts of the United Kingdom). We pick up a piece with “Dover” on it. Easy enough. Here’s “Watford”, “Manchester”, so far so good. “Cornwall” O.K. “Blackpool”, Hmmmm. That’s a bit harder. That’s on the left somewhere, in the far North, I think.
Dundee…? Where’s that, precisely? North or South of Aberdeen? Up at the top somewhere….and the Orkneys. Are they further north to the Shetland Islands or south….somewhere near the Isle of Man…approximately. Oh Dear, Hawker – bottom of the class.
You can tell that I am the poor product of a classic English education. I can still decline the Latin verb “amo, amas, amat..etc”, but have no idea whether the Orkneys are north of the Shetlands or south. I know that Henry V won the battle of Agincourt in 1415, (although I am still not sure exactly what he was doing there), but had no idea of the distance between the North and South of mainland Scotland. I gave up geography at the age of 14 (or geography gave up on me). As is evident from this blog entry, this was not my best subject.
Looking at the completed Jigsaw, I noticed that North Yorkshire is only just half way up the whole jigsaw. This results in a huge mental readjustment on my part. I thought that as you drive past Newcastle, the motorway ends, followed by a sheer drop, protected by fire, dragons and Hadrian’s Wall and the ghosts of Roman Soldiers. (I have flown to Edinburgh three times, but I have always thought I was moving into an alternative universe, somewhere near Father Christmas)
And it gets worse…for me, at least. At the very top was a large green part called “The Highlands”. This was a hard section of the jigsaw as many of pieces have no towns or names on them, and they were all coloured green.
A review of the circulation list of my Blog showed that the Scots are under represented. In fact, there is only one, and she would be appalled, but not surprised by my ignorance. There needs to be a positive campaign to have greater diversity on my blog list, and an initiative to educate Grumpy in his own Geography, complete with an action plan and government imposed targets. Is there no limit to the ignorance of the English about the geography of Great Britain?
By the way, Shetlands are north of the Orkneys, Aberdeen is north of Dundee, North to South of mainland Scotland is approximately 350 miles and the real reason that Henry V was at Agincourt was because he wanted to go to Aberdeen, but went to the same school as I did.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Giving Lessons in being Grandad (by Bradley -16 months)
This is Bradley.
Grandad and I have just had a boy’s morning, complete with taking Duplo out of the box and then putting it back again……then taking it out and ….you get the picture. It’s awesome fun. Even if Grandad was a bit slow on the uptake, he seemed to get the hang of it eventually
My mum went shopping with Nanna, leaving yours truly in charge. After the mandatory 2 seconds of crying, we get down to the serious business of teaching Grandad how to do his job. We have covered Duplo. Next was knocking wooden pegs on a workbench. Fantastic fun. Grandad was good at this, but he doesn’t hit the pegs with enough force, so I had to show him how to give the peg a good whack. You should have seen him get his fingers out of the way.
Next was jumping on the sofa. Now, he is not supposed to let me do this, but I won’t tell on him. We did this for a couple of minutes, but I thought that I should show him what he should do if I want forty winks. I picked up my blanket, and had to insist that he brought my white bear. He wanted me to pick it up, but I insisted. You’ve got to be insistent on these things. No point in pussy footing around.
Then I showed him how to put me in the cot, switch on the musical sea-horse, and pass me my blanket. Ten seconds of that and then it’s jumping up time, and back to the lounge, for some reading.
Grandad isn’t very good at reading. He keeps trying to turn over the pages and doesn’t understand that the first page should be read over and over again, so I have to keep turning the pages back. Silly Grandad.
Then it’s time for Grandad to have a snooze in the chair, so I settle him down in the corner of the sofa until Mummy gets back. I made him switch on the musical sea-horse, because I think that will settle him down quicker. He looks very tired poor thing and he doesn’t get much of a doze because Mummy comes back.Overall he was pretty well behaved, so I think that I will look after him again.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Leicester City Fans roll out the Christmas Choir
I have been complaining about the lack of sun over the past four weeks. That’s because I like to complain and secondly because there has not been much sun over the past four weeks. I’m glad that we have got that clear. We have now reached Ipswich in our pre-Christmas sojourn to visit family and friends and the grey clouds are heavy over England, as well as Switzerland.
For reasons which now escape me, I thought that it might be a “nice” idea to go the Ipswich Town football match against Leicester City on the Saturday before Christmas. I secretly hoped that everyone would have reason not to come. I said to Ed: “It doesn’t kick off until 5.20 pm, so it’s a bit late”. “GREAT IDEA”, he replied. Ben was sure to have Christmas Shopping to do: “TERRIFIC”. Kevin would have to travel from Norwich “Dicey timetable; There’ll be works on the line”. “GREAT; Timetable will be fine”.
In the face of such overwhelming support, on the morning of the game, I saw one hopeful possibility. At minus 7 C, the game was bound to be called off. Not a bit of it. The game was on, and we met near the ground, suitably dressed for minus a lot, and the beginning of a serious snow storm. In my case, dressing suitably included two pairs of socks, heavy Swiss hiking boots, long johns, two pullovers and a skiing jacket, two pairs of gloves, two woolly hats and a blanket.
And what an evening’s entertainment we had. I know that you will say it was just because Ipswich Town won, but frankly, when you are an Ipswich Supporter, you don’t go expecting to win. You just want to see if your team can break some record for the most number of consecutive defeats and get into the Guinness Book of records.
The Stands were completely empty behind us, which meant we could stand up and stamp our feet to keep warm, instead of having to sit in seats designed for people who are less than 5 foot tall. We were sheltered from the storm, for reasons I do not understand and never felt cold. The players did a seriously good job of playing entertaining football in a couple of inches of snow, where injury must have been a serious possibility and the referee and linesman (or whatever they are called these days) must have had serious difficulties in seeing the lines and the centre circle. How you would have known if a foul was committed inside or outside the box would have been anyone’s guess.
After nearly sixty minutes, I nearly had my way, when the referee took the players off “To consider the position” and then much to everyone’s surprise, came back to finish the game.
However, the highlight must have been the Leicester City fans, who had travelled all that way, in the cold and kept up a constant refrain of loud, musical and frequently witty songs. This enthusiastic and good humoured choir kept up the volume, even when they were losing, with such improvisations as:
“You only win when it’s snowing” and “we’re going home in a tractor” (both to the tune of “You only sing when you’re winning”)
“Let’s do the snowman” (whatever that is)
“Call it off; call it off; call it off” and “where’s the pitch, where’s the pitch, where’s the pitch”; (sung to “Here we go; Here we go; Here we go)
I don’t know when they find the time to do the choir practice.
We went back to Hazel’s mum and were met by Sara and Anthony. They had risked life and limb in driving to join us in the best fish and chips that we have had for years (i.e. they had fish in it).
I hope that the Leicester City fans had a good journey home. They deserved it. They made the atmosphere special. If it is not snowing on Boxing Day, please could they come back again.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/eng_div_1/9283579.stm
For reasons which now escape me, I thought that it might be a “nice” idea to go the Ipswich Town football match against Leicester City on the Saturday before Christmas. I secretly hoped that everyone would have reason not to come. I said to Ed: “It doesn’t kick off until 5.20 pm, so it’s a bit late”. “GREAT IDEA”, he replied. Ben was sure to have Christmas Shopping to do: “TERRIFIC”. Kevin would have to travel from Norwich “Dicey timetable; There’ll be works on the line”. “GREAT; Timetable will be fine”.
In the face of such overwhelming support, on the morning of the game, I saw one hopeful possibility. At minus 7 C, the game was bound to be called off. Not a bit of it. The game was on, and we met near the ground, suitably dressed for minus a lot, and the beginning of a serious snow storm. In my case, dressing suitably included two pairs of socks, heavy Swiss hiking boots, long johns, two pullovers and a skiing jacket, two pairs of gloves, two woolly hats and a blanket.
And what an evening’s entertainment we had. I know that you will say it was just because Ipswich Town won, but frankly, when you are an Ipswich Supporter, you don’t go expecting to win. You just want to see if your team can break some record for the most number of consecutive defeats and get into the Guinness Book of records.
The Stands were completely empty behind us, which meant we could stand up and stamp our feet to keep warm, instead of having to sit in seats designed for people who are less than 5 foot tall. We were sheltered from the storm, for reasons I do not understand and never felt cold. The players did a seriously good job of playing entertaining football in a couple of inches of snow, where injury must have been a serious possibility and the referee and linesman (or whatever they are called these days) must have had serious difficulties in seeing the lines and the centre circle. How you would have known if a foul was committed inside or outside the box would have been anyone’s guess.
After nearly sixty minutes, I nearly had my way, when the referee took the players off “To consider the position” and then much to everyone’s surprise, came back to finish the game.
However, the highlight must have been the Leicester City fans, who had travelled all that way, in the cold and kept up a constant refrain of loud, musical and frequently witty songs. This enthusiastic and good humoured choir kept up the volume, even when they were losing, with such improvisations as:
“You only win when it’s snowing” and “we’re going home in a tractor” (both to the tune of “You only sing when you’re winning”)
“Let’s do the snowman” (whatever that is)
“Call it off; call it off; call it off” and “where’s the pitch, where’s the pitch, where’s the pitch”; (sung to “Here we go; Here we go; Here we go)
I don’t know when they find the time to do the choir practice.
We went back to Hazel’s mum and were met by Sara and Anthony. They had risked life and limb in driving to join us in the best fish and chips that we have had for years (i.e. they had fish in it).
I hope that the Leicester City fans had a good journey home. They deserved it. They made the atmosphere special. If it is not snowing on Boxing Day, please could they come back again.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/eng_div_1/9283579.stm
Monday, November 29, 2010
To Argue or not to Argue; That is the Question
As we are well into the football season now, it is high time to have some Grumpy comment. When it comes to football, there are so many aspects that one could choose from. On this occasion, I shall share with you my conclusion that everything can put into one of two buckets. (1) The things that I understand and (2) things that I do not understand. Have you got that? Quite simple really.
Things that I do understand include why players from both sides put up their hands for a throw in. Although one of the numerous examples of institutional cheating, it is a completely rational attempt to fool the referee into making an incorrect decision in your favour, and anyway, if you don’t do it, then the other side will. It is the football equivalent of lying to the police about your speed. “I am sure I wasn’t going more than 34 miles per hour, officer……………………Was I really going that fast?”
Falling over in the penalty area also falls into this category. As no referee has ever given a penalty where the player does not fall down, it makes perfect sense for the player not to try too hard to stay on his feet. It fact, it is negligent to try to stay upright.
Another perfectly logical enigma is why the offside rule is so simple in theory, but almost impossible to follow in its interpretation and in practice. If football rules were simplified too much, then commentators would have nothing to talk about at half-time and at the end of the game. “Now let’s look at this latest gaff from the referee”. Forget about the goals. Football commentators equivalent of Fox Hunting (and ought to be banned, except that “the referee enjoys the chase as well”)
The First Item that falls in the heading of “Things that I do not understand” is how all football league games start on time. If kick-off is at 3.00 pm, then you can set your watch by this (unless the Sky TV advertising schedule delays the start.) In business meetings that I attended (Swiss are exempt from this), most participants only arrive after the meeting is due to start. For football games to start on time is quite an achievement as timekeeping requires organisation and discipline, which in most cases has only been mastered by the Swiss. Nevertheless, when it comes to the Great Game, even matches played in (what are loosely known as) countries with a “Latin temperament” (i.e. bad timekeepers), the games kick off on time. Would someone please explain this to me!
Let’s move on to much more familiar territory and explore the mysteries of player behaviour at penalties. It never fails to amaze that players always argue with a penalty decision. On the other hand, it never surprises anyone that the referees never change their mind (the decision in the Celtic v Dundee game this October somewhat knocks a hole in this central observation.)
I do not have any actual data here. I will make some up, but I will not be a million miles wide of the mark. On a rough calculation, there are 2,100 games in the leagues in a season. If on average, a penalty is awarded in every third game, then there about 700 penalties in a season, give or take a few hundred, certainly enough to draw some statistically valid conclusions. Now, here is the observation. In 700 cases out of 700, the defending side protest about the decision and in 699 out 700, the referee doesn’t change his mind (Dougie MacDonald being the exception.)
Perhaps there is a leading football textbook, with a misprint and that all young footballers are required to learn. “You mustnot argue with the referee about a penalty”, (with “not” omitted”). Yes. I am sure that this is the natural explanation. Any other thoughts?
Things that I do understand include why players from both sides put up their hands for a throw in. Although one of the numerous examples of institutional cheating, it is a completely rational attempt to fool the referee into making an incorrect decision in your favour, and anyway, if you don’t do it, then the other side will. It is the football equivalent of lying to the police about your speed. “I am sure I wasn’t going more than 34 miles per hour, officer……………………Was I really going that fast?”
Falling over in the penalty area also falls into this category. As no referee has ever given a penalty where the player does not fall down, it makes perfect sense for the player not to try too hard to stay on his feet. It fact, it is negligent to try to stay upright.
Another perfectly logical enigma is why the offside rule is so simple in theory, but almost impossible to follow in its interpretation and in practice. If football rules were simplified too much, then commentators would have nothing to talk about at half-time and at the end of the game. “Now let’s look at this latest gaff from the referee”. Forget about the goals. Football commentators equivalent of Fox Hunting (and ought to be banned, except that “the referee enjoys the chase as well”)
The First Item that falls in the heading of “Things that I do not understand” is how all football league games start on time. If kick-off is at 3.00 pm, then you can set your watch by this (unless the Sky TV advertising schedule delays the start.) In business meetings that I attended (Swiss are exempt from this), most participants only arrive after the meeting is due to start. For football games to start on time is quite an achievement as timekeeping requires organisation and discipline, which in most cases has only been mastered by the Swiss. Nevertheless, when it comes to the Great Game, even matches played in (what are loosely known as) countries with a “Latin temperament” (i.e. bad timekeepers), the games kick off on time. Would someone please explain this to me!
Let’s move on to much more familiar territory and explore the mysteries of player behaviour at penalties. It never fails to amaze that players always argue with a penalty decision. On the other hand, it never surprises anyone that the referees never change their mind (the decision in the Celtic v Dundee game this October somewhat knocks a hole in this central observation.)
I do not have any actual data here. I will make some up, but I will not be a million miles wide of the mark. On a rough calculation, there are 2,100 games in the leagues in a season. If on average, a penalty is awarded in every third game, then there about 700 penalties in a season, give or take a few hundred, certainly enough to draw some statistically valid conclusions. Now, here is the observation. In 700 cases out of 700, the defending side protest about the decision and in 699 out 700, the referee doesn’t change his mind (Dougie MacDonald being the exception.)
Perhaps there is a leading football textbook, with a misprint and that all young footballers are required to learn. “You must
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Snow Chains and Dishwashers
It snowed in Zurich on Wednesday morning. The news from the BBC news told me that you guys, over there, also have several centimetres of snow, about to cause the usual seasonal chaos.
Back here in Zurich, we have the excitement of having the British Prime Minister, as well as Prince William and David Beckham here to promote the U.K.’s bid for the 2018 FIFA World Cup (that’s soccer to my U.S. readers), and who will not be daunted by the few flurries of snow that we have had.
To prepare ourselves for this winter, we have bought a new set of snow chains. The old ones were rusty and generally ready for the knackers yard. More to the point, Hazel was protesting about the procedures for putting the snow-chains on to the car. I have never seen the problem with this procedure, which is perfectly straightforward, and which we have followed in 100% of all of the five cases when they have been needed.
I will explain. I rehearse the assembly in the garage. No problem here. When needed in anger, usually during a howling storm, I remove myself from the car, take the chains from the boot, lay them out under the back wheels, and then spend 15 minutes failing to get them hooked together. Hazel comes out of the car, and snaps them together in about 47 seconds.
What could get simpler than this? I really do not see the problem, but now we have the new snow-chains, we will be able to cut-out the last 47 seconds.
Rearranging the Dishwasher
On a totally unrelated subject, I need to correct any thoughts that all is perfect in my relationship with our lodger. Yes, you have guessed it. He has rearranged the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
How the dirty dishes are laid out is a very personal matter and should not be lightly interfered with. Now, I load for maximum efficiency on unloading and making sure that the dishwasher is as full as possible. This means constant shuffling around of plates, cups, glasses, soup bowls etc. It is an exercise in optimisation.
One alternative approach is maximum efficiency on loading. Throw the dishes in, put the `dishwasher tablets in and then “Go”. A kind of dishwasher equivalent of “Just Do It!”
Lodger Richard’s philosophy actually concerns itself with the trivial matter of whether the dishes will be clean. Have you ever heard anything like this? You can imagine the conversations. Being challenged on my positioning of the soup ladle (which could have stopped the spinning thingie from spinning around), could be more than a man could bear.
Fortunately, a generous supply of superior red wine comes to the rescue of this relationship. Cheers!
Back here in Zurich, we have the excitement of having the British Prime Minister, as well as Prince William and David Beckham here to promote the U.K.’s bid for the 2018 FIFA World Cup (that’s soccer to my U.S. readers), and who will not be daunted by the few flurries of snow that we have had.
To prepare ourselves for this winter, we have bought a new set of snow chains. The old ones were rusty and generally ready for the knackers yard. More to the point, Hazel was protesting about the procedures for putting the snow-chains on to the car. I have never seen the problem with this procedure, which is perfectly straightforward, and which we have followed in 100% of all of the five cases when they have been needed.
I will explain. I rehearse the assembly in the garage. No problem here. When needed in anger, usually during a howling storm, I remove myself from the car, take the chains from the boot, lay them out under the back wheels, and then spend 15 minutes failing to get them hooked together. Hazel comes out of the car, and snaps them together in about 47 seconds.
What could get simpler than this? I really do not see the problem, but now we have the new snow-chains, we will be able to cut-out the last 47 seconds.
Rearranging the Dishwasher
On a totally unrelated subject, I need to correct any thoughts that all is perfect in my relationship with our lodger. Yes, you have guessed it. He has rearranged the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
How the dirty dishes are laid out is a very personal matter and should not be lightly interfered with. Now, I load for maximum efficiency on unloading and making sure that the dishwasher is as full as possible. This means constant shuffling around of plates, cups, glasses, soup bowls etc. It is an exercise in optimisation.
One alternative approach is maximum efficiency on loading. Throw the dishes in, put the `dishwasher tablets in and then “Go”. A kind of dishwasher equivalent of “Just Do It!”
Lodger Richard’s philosophy actually concerns itself with the trivial matter of whether the dishes will be clean. Have you ever heard anything like this? You can imagine the conversations. Being challenged on my positioning of the soup ladle (which could have stopped the spinning thingie from spinning around), could be more than a man could bear.
Fortunately, a generous supply of superior red wine comes to the rescue of this relationship. Cheers!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Lodger of the Year Competition
We have a lodger staying with us. No, this is not a joke, but a real life person, of the male variety, to be more precise. Oh yes – he has a name, Richard. Richard is a friend of ours and is returning to England, after many years trying to colonise Germany and more recently, Switzerland and has been staying with us. Frances has already returned with their dog, Gizzi, getting the house ship shape.
I have decided to sponsor Richard for the “Lodger of the Year”. A Google search seemed to be best place to start, but this revealed nothing, or at least nothing of any use. Therefore, as you would have expected, I have decided to sponsor my own competition.
Criteria will be as follows:
- buys really good red wine (White wine does not qualify for the purposes of this competition)
- is in the apartment when you are in a foreign country and has to deal with the aftermath of a major power surge, in conjunction with an almost total failure of the fuse box (an alternative, which will be accepted, is for the lodger or his spouse, during the same aforesaid absence, to clear up the cellar following a back-up of the sewerage)
- brings back English Newspapers regularly
- listens patiently while the Landlord complains about the quality of English Newspapers
- joins in culinary experiments (“Prawn Pasta Salad” being a specific hypothetical example)
- is always good humour, and good company
- makes valiant (but mostly unfruitful) attempts to introduce into the house, the civilising concept of a “Teapot”
- donates a tea cosy to assist in the previously mentioned civilising
- comes up with practical ideas on how to move an old 73 kilo Television from its existing stand, down into the garage, and helping Grumpy avoid serious injury
- participates in the opening days of a diet after the landlords’ homecoming from the U.S.
- makes complimentary, albeit vague, noises about ridiculous blogs written by the Landlord
- buys interesting and varied cheeses to be eaten while drinking good red wine (see first criteria as above)
If you think that you have a lodger who meets all or some of these demanding criteria, then you can sponsor him (or her) in this exciting one-off event.
The Prize will be a dinner in the company of and cooked by Grumpy, consisting of Grumpy’s Special Onion Soup, Pork à la Grumpy, followed by mature cheese, all accompanied by really good red wine (But you may need to bring your own cheese and wine)
I have decided to sponsor Richard for the “Lodger of the Year”. A Google search seemed to be best place to start, but this revealed nothing, or at least nothing of any use. Therefore, as you would have expected, I have decided to sponsor my own competition.
Criteria will be as follows:
- buys really good red wine (White wine does not qualify for the purposes of this competition)
- is in the apartment when you are in a foreign country and has to deal with the aftermath of a major power surge, in conjunction with an almost total failure of the fuse box (an alternative, which will be accepted, is for the lodger or his spouse, during the same aforesaid absence, to clear up the cellar following a back-up of the sewerage)
- brings back English Newspapers regularly
- listens patiently while the Landlord complains about the quality of English Newspapers
- joins in culinary experiments (“Prawn Pasta Salad” being a specific hypothetical example)
- is always good humour, and good company
- makes valiant (but mostly unfruitful) attempts to introduce into the house, the civilising concept of a “Teapot”
- donates a tea cosy to assist in the previously mentioned civilising
- comes up with practical ideas on how to move an old 73 kilo Television from its existing stand, down into the garage, and helping Grumpy avoid serious injury
- participates in the opening days of a diet after the landlords’ homecoming from the U.S.
- makes complimentary, albeit vague, noises about ridiculous blogs written by the Landlord
- buys interesting and varied cheeses to be eaten while drinking good red wine (see first criteria as above)
If you think that you have a lodger who meets all or some of these demanding criteria, then you can sponsor him (or her) in this exciting one-off event.
The Prize will be a dinner in the company of and cooked by Grumpy, consisting of Grumpy’s Special Onion Soup, Pork à la Grumpy, followed by mature cheese, all accompanied by really good red wine (But you may need to bring your own cheese and wine)
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Our Television has Died
It is very sad to say goodbye to an old piece of furniture. After all, it has become a friend of the family. Our television has reached this stage.
To understand the impact on us, you need to go back to October 2002. Hazel and I borrowed a trolley from the Thalwil InterDiscount (the local electrical store) and rolled the 11 stone TV down the road to our apartment, much to the amazement of the InterDiscount staff and the passersby.
Do you remember those old TVs? They are / were almost as deep as they were wide. This television was deliberately designed not to fit into our lift. We were on the fourth floor in those days. Each floor had thirty steps and the TV weighed the previously mentioned 11 stone - something of a challenge.
As good English folk, the first thing was to make a cup of tea. Now you have to
realise that this TV took about 40 minutes to carry up. Plenty of stops to boil the kettle, make the tea, drink it, make another one and so on. We reckoned that if anyone stole this 11 stone monstrosity, while we were taking part in the English tea ritual, then we would be able to recognise them by their crooked backs and looks of pain.
Eight years later, our TV has repaid this love and attention by switching itself off at random, usually during the last 10 minutes of detective programmes. It has also reduced the size of the picture, which has the advantage that you can no longer see the irritating news which moves across the bottom of the screen at one letter per second.
So for the last week, we have been immersing ourselves in learning and understanding new terms, LED, LCD, HD ready and Full HD, knowing what size screen we needed and getting used to the fact these new TVs only weigh 30 pounds. Imagine that; being able to carry the TV up the stairs without having time to make two cups of tea. Takes the fun out of the whole operation.
Delivery of the new TV is due on Friday. We think. Information about delivery of TVs, at least from InterDiscount, seems to be somewhat uncertain. We expect to be told before the TV arrives, but the interval between being told and the arrival might only be a couple of hours.
If you see me walking around with a hunched back next week, you will know that the TV has arrived, and that I am no longer able to carry a 30 pound TV.
To understand the impact on us, you need to go back to October 2002. Hazel and I borrowed a trolley from the Thalwil InterDiscount (the local electrical store) and rolled the 11 stone TV down the road to our apartment, much to the amazement of the InterDiscount staff and the passersby.
Do you remember those old TVs? They are / were almost as deep as they were wide. This television was deliberately designed not to fit into our lift. We were on the fourth floor in those days. Each floor had thirty steps and the TV weighed the previously mentioned 11 stone - something of a challenge.
As good English folk, the first thing was to make a cup of tea. Now you have to
realise that this TV took about 40 minutes to carry up. Plenty of stops to boil the kettle, make the tea, drink it, make another one and so on. We reckoned that if anyone stole this 11 stone monstrosity, while we were taking part in the English tea ritual, then we would be able to recognise them by their crooked backs and looks of pain.
Eight years later, our TV has repaid this love and attention by switching itself off at random, usually during the last 10 minutes of detective programmes. It has also reduced the size of the picture, which has the advantage that you can no longer see the irritating news which moves across the bottom of the screen at one letter per second.
So for the last week, we have been immersing ourselves in learning and understanding new terms, LED, LCD, HD ready and Full HD, knowing what size screen we needed and getting used to the fact these new TVs only weigh 30 pounds. Imagine that; being able to carry the TV up the stairs without having time to make two cups of tea. Takes the fun out of the whole operation.
Delivery of the new TV is due on Friday. We think. Information about delivery of TVs, at least from InterDiscount, seems to be somewhat uncertain. We expect to be told before the TV arrives, but the interval between being told and the arrival might only be a couple of hours.
If you see me walking around with a hunched back next week, you will know that the TV has arrived, and that I am no longer able to carry a 30 pound TV.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Writing a Novel - Enlisting the Efforts of Grumpy’s supporters
I have been challenged to write a novel. A friend of ours was good enough to inform me of a forthcoming Novel Writing Challenge. November is national Novel Writing Month. It doesn’t say which country, so I am not sure if I am eligible, and secretly, I am hoping that I am not.
http://www.nanowrimo.org/
“If you can write a Blog, you should write a novel”, she said. This is what many of the readers of my U.S. trip blog have been shouting to me. Do I dare believe that this is really and honestly deserved? Modesty would normally forbid me to comment further, but I should say that I am having problems getting my head through doors these days.
Now I am not normally persuaded to embark on ambitious and dangerous tasks, even when encouraged and pushed along by friends and supporters. Furthermore, if it is true that we all have a novel in us, waiting to get out, I am not sure where mine has been hiding. Perhaps it has been removed by accident, taken with an extracted tooth, when giving a blood sample, or simply abducted by aliens.
“Only 50,000 words in one month is the target”, She casually announced. “…and it is not a competition. Just an opportunity to have a peer group review and comment. A kind of friendly audience”. More like friendly fire, if you ask me. Sounds like some ancient form of masochism.
Do you have any idea what 50,000 words look like? “It’s only about 175 pages”, she helpfully added. “HOW MANY?” I replied. You can tell that I was getting agitated at this point. “My U.S. Trip blog was only about 20,000 words” (I have no idea really, but I was rallying my defences as best as I could).
O.K. calm down. Let’s build a plan, and see if we can make it run. I like plans.
First item, and this is where you come in, is “Enlist the Supporters”. After all, aren’t we always being told that cooperation (the word is “Collaboration” out here) is the best way forward. Actually, I have always believed that when someone asks me for their cooperation then I am either being coerced into something or someone wants something for nothing. I am very rarely disappointed…and yes, in this case, I am asking you to do something for nothing.
In the words of the well known lie, “Your opinion matters”. This is a subtle way of saying, “Send me an idea; if I like it, I will use it under my own name. If I do not like it, I will ignore it and say “Thank you very much for your valuable contribution. We will take this into account in reaching our decision (which we have probably already taken)”.
First Problem – Every novel need a plot. This is less of a problem than you might imagine, as the kind lady who suggested this says that this may not be necessary in this case. If this is so, I have a very good chance of making it to first base.
I was suitably encouraged at this point, I felt as if I was in with a chance. I asked whether it needed to have properly formulated sentences. My thinking here was that I could use a random word selector, along the lines of “Monkeys typing at random and producing the works of Shakespeare.” She thought that this was an interesting and useful idea, and represented some good “Out of the Box” thinking. However, perhaps it was too advanced for the time being. The more traditional construction with subjects and objects, (using Nouns and pronouns), linked together with verbs to create sentences would more acceptable. Very orthodox.
Here is my first question to you. Do you have any ideas for a suitable plot? Only ground rules are that it must be decent and cruelty to garden gnomes is not allowed.
Second Problem – How many characters should be there be? Will there be any dialogue?
Third Problem – What tense and person should it be in? Sorry if this is a bit technical. The point is, is the person “I”, or “He”.
Then, should it be in the past or present tense? Too many decisions, and we do not even have a plot yet.
Fourth and other Problems – How many chapters should it have? How long should the paragraphs be? Should there be sub-paragraph heading? Will it have a happy ending or be a dark sinister story, leaving the reader with an empty, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Perhaps I could write one chapter per week, circulate it, and ask for suggestions for the next week’s chapter, a kind of democratic version of “The Archers” or “East Enders”.
Now I am getting somewhere. This blog is about 800 words. Let’s make this the first chapter and go for 32,000 words. Only 39 more chapters to write. Any thoughts, comments or words of wisdom to colin.hawker@bluewin.ch
http://www.nanowrimo.org/
“If you can write a Blog, you should write a novel”, she said. This is what many of the readers of my U.S. trip blog have been shouting to me. Do I dare believe that this is really and honestly deserved? Modesty would normally forbid me to comment further, but I should say that I am having problems getting my head through doors these days.
Now I am not normally persuaded to embark on ambitious and dangerous tasks, even when encouraged and pushed along by friends and supporters. Furthermore, if it is true that we all have a novel in us, waiting to get out, I am not sure where mine has been hiding. Perhaps it has been removed by accident, taken with an extracted tooth, when giving a blood sample, or simply abducted by aliens.
“Only 50,000 words in one month is the target”, She casually announced. “…and it is not a competition. Just an opportunity to have a peer group review and comment. A kind of friendly audience”. More like friendly fire, if you ask me. Sounds like some ancient form of masochism.
Do you have any idea what 50,000 words look like? “It’s only about 175 pages”, she helpfully added. “HOW MANY?” I replied. You can tell that I was getting agitated at this point. “My U.S. Trip blog was only about 20,000 words” (I have no idea really, but I was rallying my defences as best as I could).
O.K. calm down. Let’s build a plan, and see if we can make it run. I like plans.
First item, and this is where you come in, is “Enlist the Supporters”. After all, aren’t we always being told that cooperation (the word is “Collaboration” out here) is the best way forward. Actually, I have always believed that when someone asks me for their cooperation then I am either being coerced into something or someone wants something for nothing. I am very rarely disappointed…and yes, in this case, I am asking you to do something for nothing.
In the words of the well known lie, “Your opinion matters”. This is a subtle way of saying, “Send me an idea; if I like it, I will use it under my own name. If I do not like it, I will ignore it and say “Thank you very much for your valuable contribution. We will take this into account in reaching our decision (which we have probably already taken)”.
First Problem – Every novel need a plot. This is less of a problem than you might imagine, as the kind lady who suggested this says that this may not be necessary in this case. If this is so, I have a very good chance of making it to first base.
I was suitably encouraged at this point, I felt as if I was in with a chance. I asked whether it needed to have properly formulated sentences. My thinking here was that I could use a random word selector, along the lines of “Monkeys typing at random and producing the works of Shakespeare.” She thought that this was an interesting and useful idea, and represented some good “Out of the Box” thinking. However, perhaps it was too advanced for the time being. The more traditional construction with subjects and objects, (using Nouns and pronouns), linked together with verbs to create sentences would more acceptable. Very orthodox.
Here is my first question to you. Do you have any ideas for a suitable plot? Only ground rules are that it must be decent and cruelty to garden gnomes is not allowed.
Second Problem – How many characters should be there be? Will there be any dialogue?
Third Problem – What tense and person should it be in? Sorry if this is a bit technical. The point is, is the person “I”, or “He”.
Then, should it be in the past or present tense? Too many decisions, and we do not even have a plot yet.
Fourth and other Problems – How many chapters should it have? How long should the paragraphs be? Should there be sub-paragraph heading? Will it have a happy ending or be a dark sinister story, leaving the reader with an empty, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Perhaps I could write one chapter per week, circulate it, and ask for suggestions for the next week’s chapter, a kind of democratic version of “The Archers” or “East Enders”.
Now I am getting somewhere. This blog is about 800 words. Let’s make this the first chapter and go for 32,000 words. Only 39 more chapters to write. Any thoughts, comments or words of wisdom to colin.hawker@bluewin.ch
Saturday, November 6, 2010
The Hawker’s Trip in the U.S. - Follow up and Next Steps
The Hawker’s U.S. trip blog is over. An era in history has come to an end. I had thought of a further entry for the U.S. Trip blog, but even readers of this blog can have too much of a good thing and my alter ego, Grumpy, has been waiting for weeks to get a look in.
Nevertheless, there is some unfinished business on the U.S. Blog. Mark Hookey was kind enough not to point that that “Next Steps and Follow up” was missing. He should have said to me, “Colin, as a good Black Belt, you really must include what has to be followed up. There is no hope for a project manager, whose power point presentation does not conclude with Next Steps”. (The end of the Grand Old Duke of York’s PowerPoint presentation, said: “Next Steps, “March Down the Hill – deadline Next Tuesday”. However, Mark and I were too busy talking about the forthcoming St Andrew’s bazaar to talk about this.
On our return to Thalwil, I compiled a huge list of things to be done. Mostly housekeeping and normal administration, such as “Get the Fuse Box in the house installed properly” and “Keep fingers crossed until Fuse Box is properly installed.” But there are a number of items that arise directly from the holiday itself, and I am not just referring to paying bills and checking Credit Card Bills to see how much restaurants have added on.
For example, there are Photos to be sorted. There were 2,700 photos to be sorted and filed. Naming, uploading, and slimming down (but never deleting) before showing them to friends, family and other victims are still outstanding. There are hours of delightful sadism to look forward to. “Now here is another picture of a tree…….”
Then there is the 1,000 piece jigsaw, showing all the U.S. states bought from the very dangerous and addictive book store chain “Barnes and Nobles”. This jigsaw has now been spread out over the Grand Piano, and is in the “Sorting into colours and shapes” stage. Forget about edges. This jigsaw is in the shape of the U.S. and has no edges. I have no idea how I am going to mount this on to the wall.
There is U.S. literature to read. Yes - the U.S. has literature. As we passed through that “Centre of U.S. Culture, Minneapolis”, even Grumpy could not fail to pick up Scott Fitzgerald. I now feel obliged to read some U.S. literature. I have finished “The Love of the Last Tycoon” (Fitzgerald) and am now working my through “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” (Mark Twain). Having mentioned this idea to Dawn (of Norwalk, Connecticut fame; remember “Sorry we burned down your town”), she gave me three more books to read, as part of the “Make Grumpy a cultured person” project.
At risk of being further bombarded by emails from Charlie Dwyer, I should point out, that the Centre of U.S. Culture is a controversial point with people from New York / New Jersey. Actually I rather appreciate emails from Charlie Dwyer, heckling or otherwise, so I will leave the point at that. I am sure that we can develop this into an entire entry on the blog. “Discuss in not more than 10,000 words, whether New York is more of a cultural centre than Minneapolis” – Whooaaa – I could be stirring up something here.
On the technical front, I bought a little gizmo to improve the wireless reception of my laptop, from a Radio Shack shop in Oregon. I never thought to ask whether it was Windows 7 compatible. Need I say more?
Only 48 items on the list to go.
Nevertheless, there is some unfinished business on the U.S. Blog. Mark Hookey was kind enough not to point that that “Next Steps and Follow up” was missing. He should have said to me, “Colin, as a good Black Belt, you really must include what has to be followed up. There is no hope for a project manager, whose power point presentation does not conclude with Next Steps”. (The end of the Grand Old Duke of York’s PowerPoint presentation, said: “Next Steps, “March Down the Hill – deadline Next Tuesday”. However, Mark and I were too busy talking about the forthcoming St Andrew’s bazaar to talk about this.
On our return to Thalwil, I compiled a huge list of things to be done. Mostly housekeeping and normal administration, such as “Get the Fuse Box in the house installed properly” and “Keep fingers crossed until Fuse Box is properly installed.” But there are a number of items that arise directly from the holiday itself, and I am not just referring to paying bills and checking Credit Card Bills to see how much restaurants have added on.
For example, there are Photos to be sorted. There were 2,700 photos to be sorted and filed. Naming, uploading, and slimming down (but never deleting) before showing them to friends, family and other victims are still outstanding. There are hours of delightful sadism to look forward to. “Now here is another picture of a tree…….”
Then there is the 1,000 piece jigsaw, showing all the U.S. states bought from the very dangerous and addictive book store chain “Barnes and Nobles”. This jigsaw has now been spread out over the Grand Piano, and is in the “Sorting into colours and shapes” stage. Forget about edges. This jigsaw is in the shape of the U.S. and has no edges. I have no idea how I am going to mount this on to the wall.
There is U.S. literature to read. Yes - the U.S. has literature. As we passed through that “Centre of U.S. Culture, Minneapolis”, even Grumpy could not fail to pick up Scott Fitzgerald. I now feel obliged to read some U.S. literature. I have finished “The Love of the Last Tycoon” (Fitzgerald) and am now working my through “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” (Mark Twain). Having mentioned this idea to Dawn (of Norwalk, Connecticut fame; remember “Sorry we burned down your town”), she gave me three more books to read, as part of the “Make Grumpy a cultured person” project.
At risk of being further bombarded by emails from Charlie Dwyer, I should point out, that the Centre of U.S. Culture is a controversial point with people from New York / New Jersey. Actually I rather appreciate emails from Charlie Dwyer, heckling or otherwise, so I will leave the point at that. I am sure that we can develop this into an entire entry on the blog. “Discuss in not more than 10,000 words, whether New York is more of a cultural centre than Minneapolis” – Whooaaa – I could be stirring up something here.
On the technical front, I bought a little gizmo to improve the wireless reception of my laptop, from a Radio Shack shop in Oregon. I never thought to ask whether it was Windows 7 compatible. Need I say more?
Only 48 items on the list to go.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Hiking the Seven Gipfel (Peaks)
This is the last Blog for a couple of months. (Hurrah, you say.) But I will be back in November (Boo). I am hoping to persuade my Grandson, Bradley to take over, in the interim (Double Hurrah - make it permanent!).
I thought that I would mark this temporary end on a sporting and non-Grumpy note and tell you of our hike with the spectacular views above Flumserberg. (Tannenboden to be precise. I tried to insert a Google Map link, but Google thinks that Tannenboden is in the U.S.A. near Highway 53.)
Bill Hall and Jim Barrington were my co-adventurers on this expedition.
There are a large number of walks above Flumserberg. Like Laax/Flims, the winter ski resort has been turned into a network of “Wanderwegs”. This particular walk starts at the base of the ski resort, Tannenboden (1,400m), above the Wallensee.
As always, we started with a rest (Pause) at Tannenboden. We took the Gondelbahn to Maschgenkamm (2020m). Not much walking so far, except from the car park. It is already 10.00.
Armed with Jim’s Garmin, to keep automatic details of our walk, we walked the 17 k.
Here are my notes.
Along the Zigergipfel (No 1) to Ziggerfurgien (1,990m) (1 km)
Along the Leist Gipfel (No 2) and Rainissalts Gipfel (No 3).
At this point, there was an interesting discussion on the hypothetical use of the only survival blanket on the walk, which was held by Bill. Is cannabalism acceptable? I leave you to imagine the conversation
On to Gulmen (2,317m) (No 4)…and that is the climbing finished. (2 km).
Now it is time to consider what we would do in the event of lightening. As Jim was the tallest, he should stand in the open, and we would take cover elsewhere. (But he should leave Bill’s survival blanket for me to share with Bill). I do not remember whether he agreed to this.
Down to Chrürzen (4 km) with the Munchopf on our left and then along the Cuncels Gipfel (No 5), Chli Güslen (No 6) and Gross Güslen (No 7) (1 km).
Thank goodness, there is a restaurant on this last stretch.
Walk back down to Tannenboden (4 km).
Now, you know that my arithmetic is not so good. I estimated 12k from the map. Jim’s Garmin said that we had walked 17 k, and the brochure said 14 k. Other vital statistics were:
- moving time: 4 hrs 27 m (average walking speed 3.8 k per hour)
- stopping time: 2 hrs 29 m (What were we doing?)
- average overall speed 2.4 kph (Not exactly olympic, I know)
- vertical climb – 656 metres
We reached base camp (Tannenboden) at 17.00, just in time to miss the last Gondelbahn down to Untertetzen. (but we had brought the car up).
Here are some photos. http://picasaweb.google.com/103404285149801869665/OnThe7GipfelAtFlumserberg?feat=email Click on slideshow for easy viewing.
See you in November. If you wish to follow our travels in the U.S., click on http://hawkersustrip.blogspot.com/ or send me an email and I will put you on my distribution list.
I thought that I would mark this temporary end on a sporting and non-Grumpy note and tell you of our hike with the spectacular views above Flumserberg. (Tannenboden to be precise. I tried to insert a Google Map link, but Google thinks that Tannenboden is in the U.S.A. near Highway 53.)
Bill Hall and Jim Barrington were my co-adventurers on this expedition.
There are a large number of walks above Flumserberg. Like Laax/Flims, the winter ski resort has been turned into a network of “Wanderwegs”. This particular walk starts at the base of the ski resort, Tannenboden (1,400m), above the Wallensee.
As always, we started with a rest (Pause) at Tannenboden. We took the Gondelbahn to Maschgenkamm (2020m). Not much walking so far, except from the car park. It is already 10.00.
Armed with Jim’s Garmin, to keep automatic details of our walk, we walked the 17 k.
Here are my notes.
Along the Zigergipfel (No 1) to Ziggerfurgien (1,990m) (1 km)
Along the Leist Gipfel (No 2) and Rainissalts Gipfel (No 3).
At this point, there was an interesting discussion on the hypothetical use of the only survival blanket on the walk, which was held by Bill. Is cannabalism acceptable? I leave you to imagine the conversation
On to Gulmen (2,317m) (No 4)…and that is the climbing finished. (2 km).
Now it is time to consider what we would do in the event of lightening. As Jim was the tallest, he should stand in the open, and we would take cover elsewhere. (But he should leave Bill’s survival blanket for me to share with Bill). I do not remember whether he agreed to this.
Down to Chrürzen (4 km) with the Munchopf on our left and then along the Cuncels Gipfel (No 5), Chli Güslen (No 6) and Gross Güslen (No 7) (1 km).
Thank goodness, there is a restaurant on this last stretch.
Walk back down to Tannenboden (4 km).
Now, you know that my arithmetic is not so good. I estimated 12k from the map. Jim’s Garmin said that we had walked 17 k, and the brochure said 14 k. Other vital statistics were:
- moving time: 4 hrs 27 m (average walking speed 3.8 k per hour)
- stopping time: 2 hrs 29 m (What were we doing?)
- average overall speed 2.4 kph (Not exactly olympic, I know)
- vertical climb – 656 metres
We reached base camp (Tannenboden) at 17.00, just in time to miss the last Gondelbahn down to Untertetzen. (but we had brought the car up).
Here are some photos. http://picasaweb.google.com/103404285149801869665/OnThe7GipfelAtFlumserberg?feat=email Click on slideshow for easy viewing.
See you in November. If you wish to follow our travels in the U.S., click on http://hawkersustrip.blogspot.com/ or send me an email and I will put you on my distribution list.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Recycling
About three years ago, there was a joke list of questions circulating, with 35 questions, designed to calculate whether you had been in Switzerland too long. I scored 31 out of 35. I have almost gone completely native. (There was nothing on the list about being able to speak the local language, so it was obviously drawn up by an Englishman).
I showed the list to my children. Their observation was that, based on these questions, I had become Swiss years before I left England.
Now let’s take an example. For a long time, I have had the opinion that providing goods and services that are “free at the point of sale” is inefficient. Heavy Economics stuff here. Edward will correct me on this bit, if I have got this wrong. What that means in ordinaryspeak is that if I had my way, you would be paying for your rubbish disposal by the bag.
“Off with his grumpy little head”, I hear you cry. Heresy! “Burning at the stake is too good for him". Don’t let him back in the country!
One side effect of paying for your rubbish disposal by the bag is that recycling now becomes a matter of economic self-interest. It is no longer just a matter of making your contribution to saving the environment.
This needs to be organised. There is a pile for paper, one for bottles, one for old metal, one for milk cartons, one for electrical goods and so one. You can line them all up. (You could give names to them and talk to them, but I prefer to do this to the plants).
I have really got the hang of this now. I pick up old newspapers on the train, and add them to my paper collection. “My newspaper pile is bigger than yours”, a form of “Paper recycling pile envy”. There is the thrill of the crash as the beer bottles crash into the recycling bin. This is as good, if not better than being at a fairground. There is the satisfaction as the milk carton crusher swallows its prey, and gives off a satisfying belch. (I swear I heard this at the Coop, earlier this month).
Now that I am back in England for a few weeks, I realise that I am missing out on the joy of Sunday Newspapers. This 3 inch pile of paper greatly enhances any keen recycler’s life. At the cost of a mere 8 Swiss Francs (£5) from the main Zurich station, I could increase my paper recycling pile by 30 cms per month. What a mouth watering thought.
I showed the list to my children. Their observation was that, based on these questions, I had become Swiss years before I left England.
Now let’s take an example. For a long time, I have had the opinion that providing goods and services that are “free at the point of sale” is inefficient. Heavy Economics stuff here. Edward will correct me on this bit, if I have got this wrong. What that means in ordinaryspeak is that if I had my way, you would be paying for your rubbish disposal by the bag.
“Off with his grumpy little head”, I hear you cry. Heresy! “Burning at the stake is too good for him". Don’t let him back in the country!
One side effect of paying for your rubbish disposal by the bag is that recycling now becomes a matter of economic self-interest. It is no longer just a matter of making your contribution to saving the environment.
This needs to be organised. There is a pile for paper, one for bottles, one for old metal, one for milk cartons, one for electrical goods and so one. You can line them all up. (You could give names to them and talk to them, but I prefer to do this to the plants).
I have really got the hang of this now. I pick up old newspapers on the train, and add them to my paper collection. “My newspaper pile is bigger than yours”, a form of “Paper recycling pile envy”. There is the thrill of the crash as the beer bottles crash into the recycling bin. This is as good, if not better than being at a fairground. There is the satisfaction as the milk carton crusher swallows its prey, and gives off a satisfying belch. (I swear I heard this at the Coop, earlier this month).
Now that I am back in England for a few weeks, I realise that I am missing out on the joy of Sunday Newspapers. This 3 inch pile of paper greatly enhances any keen recycler’s life. At the cost of a mere 8 Swiss Francs (£5) from the main Zurich station, I could increase my paper recycling pile by 30 cms per month. What a mouth watering thought.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Self Defence in the Streets of Zurich
It’s dangerous out there. It used to be so much safer in my day (whenever that was), but now it is not possible to go on to the streets of Zurich, without being in danger of life and limb. The dangers are manifold.
There are trams in Zurich. This means that you need to look and listen. None of the usual “iPod in the ear” and the “Eyes facing in the other direction”. If you cannot hear and cannot see, then you are tram fodder. It is generally safe to assume that all cars in Zurich will stop at the sight of a pedestrian within 200 yards. No need to listen or look – just cross. It is not easy to mistake a tram for a car, but if you do, then …..oh dear.
If that were not bad enough, there is a new and growing menace. Aliens disguised as OTHER PEOPLE. These “Other People” will stop at nothing to bruise, injure and maim.
Their first strategy is the “Three in a Row”. Outnumbered and Outgunned, you are mercilessly pushed to the ground or to one side. If you stand or walk in a straight line, this is considered bad manners and met by death by X-Ray stares.
Second and more dangerous, is the Alien with the iPhone strategy. This involves the alien walking at high speed with face to the ground, pretending to look into a tiny screen held at the end of its tentacles. There is no perfect counter-strategy for this. Best tactic is turn round, and walk backwards. This fools the alien into believing that it is walking faster than it thought and that it needs to overtake.
Lastly, there is the “Sports Bag under the Arm” strategy. This is a variation on the bowler hat and umbrella strategy employed by Aliens in the City of London in the 50s and 60s. Convincing others that the umbrellas were to be used in the event of rain, Aliens used this weapon in a campaign to inflict wounds on the knees and legs of earthlings. The “Bag under the Arm” is similarly used to bruise the shoulders and upper arms of those who are not sufficiently fast or nimble, to avoid them.
Countermeasures are under development. Most effective to date is the “Rucksack”, a weapon of mass destruction, so terrible as to be banned under the “Rucksack proliferation treaty”. These defensive tools are best used, by turning swiftly 90 degrees, so that it strikes the offending “Bag under the Arm” Alien. This is particularly effective in confined spaces such as buses and queues.
Take No Prisoners in this conflict. The arms race has just started.
There are trams in Zurich. This means that you need to look and listen. None of the usual “iPod in the ear” and the “Eyes facing in the other direction”. If you cannot hear and cannot see, then you are tram fodder. It is generally safe to assume that all cars in Zurich will stop at the sight of a pedestrian within 200 yards. No need to listen or look – just cross. It is not easy to mistake a tram for a car, but if you do, then …..oh dear.
If that were not bad enough, there is a new and growing menace. Aliens disguised as OTHER PEOPLE. These “Other People” will stop at nothing to bruise, injure and maim.
Their first strategy is the “Three in a Row”. Outnumbered and Outgunned, you are mercilessly pushed to the ground or to one side. If you stand or walk in a straight line, this is considered bad manners and met by death by X-Ray stares.
Second and more dangerous, is the Alien with the iPhone strategy. This involves the alien walking at high speed with face to the ground, pretending to look into a tiny screen held at the end of its tentacles. There is no perfect counter-strategy for this. Best tactic is turn round, and walk backwards. This fools the alien into believing that it is walking faster than it thought and that it needs to overtake.
Lastly, there is the “Sports Bag under the Arm” strategy. This is a variation on the bowler hat and umbrella strategy employed by Aliens in the City of London in the 50s and 60s. Convincing others that the umbrellas were to be used in the event of rain, Aliens used this weapon in a campaign to inflict wounds on the knees and legs of earthlings. The “Bag under the Arm” is similarly used to bruise the shoulders and upper arms of those who are not sufficiently fast or nimble, to avoid them.
Countermeasures are under development. Most effective to date is the “Rucksack”, a weapon of mass destruction, so terrible as to be banned under the “Rucksack proliferation treaty”. These defensive tools are best used, by turning swiftly 90 degrees, so that it strikes the offending “Bag under the Arm” Alien. This is particularly effective in confined spaces such as buses and queues.
Take No Prisoners in this conflict. The arms race has just started.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Self Defence in the Kitchen
There are sadists at work, whose sole aim in life is to cause pain. They spend their time, scheming ever more ways to entrap innocent people, going about their daily business.
The luggage racks in the double-decker Swiss Trains are perfectly positioned to be unobserved by the otherwise occupied passenger, and to catch them unawares as they stand up suddenly. The sudden shock to the passenger is embarrassment, as much as pain. How anyone can continue to hit their head after 8 years of doing so, is anyone’s guess. Perhaps it is only Grumpy’s particular inability to learn from experience that causes this. But somehow, I think that I am not the only person.
British Rail (or whatever it is called these days) should take note. This is one innovation that you can do without.
Particular praise, though, must go to the designer of our kitchen. The kitchen fan extractor is in danger of being broken. The predicted breakdown is not through overuse, but by being hit by me, every time I hit my head on it. The corners are designed to remove a tiny fleck of skin from a follicly challenged head. Those of you who also have this cerebral enhancement will know how painful this can be.
Who designed this? It must have been a midget. More likely, someone who has never actually done any cooking in his own kitchen. So what is to be done? Moving house seems to be too drastic. Rebuilding the kitchen might be an option. The punishment meted out to the extractor hood does not seem to be working. Some form of defence is called for.
As a matter of public health and safety, I shall be proposing legislation to require all people working in kitchen (commercial and private) to wear protective headgear. I have tested this out. The effect, I think you will agree, is very fetching and practical. This will be extended to people travelling on Swiss Trains.
Now the midgets who design kitchens will have to find another way of causing pain.
The luggage racks in the double-decker Swiss Trains are perfectly positioned to be unobserved by the otherwise occupied passenger, and to catch them unawares as they stand up suddenly. The sudden shock to the passenger is embarrassment, as much as pain. How anyone can continue to hit their head after 8 years of doing so, is anyone’s guess. Perhaps it is only Grumpy’s particular inability to learn from experience that causes this. But somehow, I think that I am not the only person.
British Rail (or whatever it is called these days) should take note. This is one innovation that you can do without.
Particular praise, though, must go to the designer of our kitchen. The kitchen fan extractor is in danger of being broken. The predicted breakdown is not through overuse, but by being hit by me, every time I hit my head on it. The corners are designed to remove a tiny fleck of skin from a follicly challenged head. Those of you who also have this cerebral enhancement will know how painful this can be.
Who designed this? It must have been a midget. More likely, someone who has never actually done any cooking in his own kitchen. So what is to be done? Moving house seems to be too drastic. Rebuilding the kitchen might be an option. The punishment meted out to the extractor hood does not seem to be working. Some form of defence is called for.
As a matter of public health and safety, I shall be proposing legislation to require all people working in kitchen (commercial and private) to wear protective headgear. I have tested this out. The effect, I think you will agree, is very fetching and practical. This will be extended to people travelling on Swiss Trains.
Now the midgets who design kitchens will have to find another way of causing pain.
Monday, June 21, 2010
It is Never too Early to Speculate
I looked at the BBC news website the other day, as I frequently do, and much to my horror read some NEWS. This came as a shock to me. Firstly, I am not used to finding news on news website, newspapers or on the television any more. Secondly, I was about to write a blog about news being dominated by non-news, so that was one good theory blown out of the water.
But I am not so easily intimidated and will certainly not allow a few inconvenient facts stand in the way of a perfectly good blog.
The news is, in theory, about what has happened. BBC televised 24 hours is generally good at this. That is, apart from the eye strain from flicking from one news presenter to another, while they have a cosy dinner table chat with me. (How they know which one is supposed to be speaking?)
Newspapers and news website…..well, let’s take a quick trip through some non-news themes.
My favourite non-news is what is going to happen today. “Today, the Government will announce that …….” I thought that this should be tomorrow’s news (and it probably will be, as well, allowing the publisher two bites at the “News cherry”). “Capello will tomorrow announce the England team.” is news. He will do so tomorrow and we have to wait. Sorry, but there it is. In non-news speak, it should say “Tomorrow, Capello will announce the following team ……” telling us, by the way, as well who he will choose as goalkeeper. That would puzzle everyone.
A further problem for the BBC 24 Hours news is filling the gaps on a piece of real Breaking News. This is managed with speculation-news. “If this crime proves to be work of terrorists / aliens / frogs ….etc, what would this mean for global security / U.S._ Mars relationships, funding of frog spawning colonies. The possibilities are endless.
I have a theory, that in the same way that football commentators have cards on which they write meaningless statistics about footballers, which they can use when nothing much is happening, news readers have a list of speculation questions “If ABC proves to be the case, what would this mean for XYZ?”, to keep the excitement going.
Answers to speculation questions are always answered with “Yes – well, Susan, it is really to early speculate, but …..” and then proceed to speculate, “If it does prove to be the case that David Cameron is really Robert Maxwell in disguise, then ……..”
Actually, it is never too early to speculate.
By the way, if you have reached this far, the news that I read was that President Sarkozy arrived in London to mark the de Gaulle broadcasts.
But I am not so easily intimidated and will certainly not allow a few inconvenient facts stand in the way of a perfectly good blog.
The news is, in theory, about what has happened. BBC televised 24 hours is generally good at this. That is, apart from the eye strain from flicking from one news presenter to another, while they have a cosy dinner table chat with me. (How they know which one is supposed to be speaking?)
Newspapers and news website…..well, let’s take a quick trip through some non-news themes.
My favourite non-news is what is going to happen today. “Today, the Government will announce that …….” I thought that this should be tomorrow’s news (and it probably will be, as well, allowing the publisher two bites at the “News cherry”). “Capello will tomorrow announce the England team.” is news. He will do so tomorrow and we have to wait. Sorry, but there it is. In non-news speak, it should say “Tomorrow, Capello will announce the following team ……” telling us, by the way, as well who he will choose as goalkeeper. That would puzzle everyone.
A further problem for the BBC 24 Hours news is filling the gaps on a piece of real Breaking News. This is managed with speculation-news. “If this crime proves to be work of terrorists / aliens / frogs ….etc, what would this mean for global security / U.S._ Mars relationships, funding of frog spawning colonies. The possibilities are endless.
I have a theory, that in the same way that football commentators have cards on which they write meaningless statistics about footballers, which they can use when nothing much is happening, news readers have a list of speculation questions “If ABC proves to be the case, what would this mean for XYZ?”, to keep the excitement going.
Answers to speculation questions are always answered with “Yes – well, Susan, it is really to early speculate, but …..” and then proceed to speculate, “If it does prove to be the case that David Cameron is really Robert Maxwell in disguise, then ……..”
Actually, it is never too early to speculate.
By the way, if you have reached this far, the news that I read was that President Sarkozy arrived in London to mark the de Gaulle broadcasts.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Exercise Car
If I was in charge of world innovation, we would still be living in caves. I am one of those people (the only person?) who thought that “DOS” commands on a Personal computer, were fine and that Microsoft Windows just a sop for lazy people. My life was fine without Windows and mice. Why do we need it now? (My cave is fine. Why do we need to live in houses?).
Having said that, as a child, I did think that carpets were a huge improvement over Lino (Linoleum; not Lino Guglielmo, a very good colleague of mine in New York). But apart from Lino, innovation has a great deal to answer for.
In a continuing spirit of personal honesty, it could be said that I am just a “late adopter”. I could rationalise this by saying that I will buy it when all the bugs are ironed out. The truth is that it takes me two years at least before I can bring myself to try out, say, an IPod. And I am still an IPod user. In fact, I am probably the only person in Zurich who has bought an 8 Gb IPod in the last 6 months and does not have an iPhone. (Perhaps the iPhone will get a chance in two years time, which means that the iPad will have to wait until 2015. By this time it will be obsolete, but only cost £50, and have 100 terabytes of memory)
Latest on my “I will never use a …….” list, is GPS. I mean, what is wrong with a map. Can’t people read anymore! I would never have one in my car. And this brings me to the car. I remember thinking “Who needs electric windows?” “….air conditioning? – just leave the windows open”. The list goes on.
So here is my new innovation. The Exercise Car.
- Fitness engine starting feature. Insert a metal bar into the grill and turn it vigorously
- Special feature for cold weather; pulling a control on the dashboard to enrich the petrol mixture
- Windows are operated by levers in the door, and which build the arm muscles
- Air conditioning is removed, so that the occupants can enjoy the benefits of fresh air, while driving
- Radio, which is operated by turning a dial, and watching the pointer move along the gauge
- 0 – 60 mph in 2 minutes, reducing fuel consumption
Final note on the car front. New car is on the Grumpy Project list. Just at the project concept stage, you understand. Place your bets now as to whether it will have GPS or not. NOOOOOO!
Having said that, as a child, I did think that carpets were a huge improvement over Lino (Linoleum; not Lino Guglielmo, a very good colleague of mine in New York). But apart from Lino, innovation has a great deal to answer for.
In a continuing spirit of personal honesty, it could be said that I am just a “late adopter”. I could rationalise this by saying that I will buy it when all the bugs are ironed out. The truth is that it takes me two years at least before I can bring myself to try out, say, an IPod. And I am still an IPod user. In fact, I am probably the only person in Zurich who has bought an 8 Gb IPod in the last 6 months and does not have an iPhone. (Perhaps the iPhone will get a chance in two years time, which means that the iPad will have to wait until 2015. By this time it will be obsolete, but only cost £50, and have 100 terabytes of memory)
Latest on my “I will never use a …….” list, is GPS. I mean, what is wrong with a map. Can’t people read anymore! I would never have one in my car. And this brings me to the car. I remember thinking “Who needs electric windows?” “….air conditioning? – just leave the windows open”. The list goes on.
So here is my new innovation. The Exercise Car.
- Fitness engine starting feature. Insert a metal bar into the grill and turn it vigorously
- Special feature for cold weather; pulling a control on the dashboard to enrich the petrol mixture
- Windows are operated by levers in the door, and which build the arm muscles
- Air conditioning is removed, so that the occupants can enjoy the benefits of fresh air, while driving
- Radio, which is operated by turning a dial, and watching the pointer move along the gauge
- 0 – 60 mph in 2 minutes, reducing fuel consumption
Final note on the car front. New car is on the Grumpy Project list. Just at the project concept stage, you understand. Place your bets now as to whether it will have GPS or not. NOOOOOO!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Ministry of Redundant Words
I am a close follower of the news on television. I have no real interest in knowing what is happening in the world, but I enjoy criticising and heckling the newscasters, the camera work, the choice of articles, and special criticism singled out for the comments of political or religious leaders.
My close and scientific observations of the British news have led me to study the Outside Broadcasters. I have noticed that their initial words have been subject to a recent change in fashion. The Interviewer kicks off with a reasonably banal question. “So, Jim, what are the latest developments at Little Bloggwell on the Moat?” “Yes, Cynthia, well, at Little Bloggwell……..”
Yes? Well? What sort of response is that?
“George, how is Little Bloggwell expected to do in the FA Cup today?” “Yes, Fiona…….”
Yes? How can “Yes?” be the answer to a question starting with “How?” Perhaps this is an educated version of the schoolboy “errr ummm”.
However, one thing that I have learned from my general life’s experience is that as much as you might criticise fashion, you cannot stop it. So I have two suggestions.
1. Introduce this linguistic device into everyday conversation. “How was your day at work, dear?” “Yes, well, at work today …….” Someone will be taking the minutes next.
You can imagine a conversation in a bar. “Who won the Little Bloggwell Grand Prix today?” “Yes, Bill, the Grand Prix, which was held today,..…..”. Dear oh dear.
2. Another idea would be to rotate this redundant single syllable word. There could be a industry sponsored panel which would be responsible for deciding which word would be used for the following month.
Let me make some suggestions to kick off the panel’s work.
Kick
Dark
Woof
Moon
But my winner for the first month is “Frog”. “What are Nicolle Kidman’s chances at this year’s Oscars?” “Frog……” All answers must be started with this word.
You will have noticed that outside broadcasters walk around, usually towards the camera, and wave their hands while they talk? While my “Word-of-the-Month” panel is meeting, it could lay down the next walking and hand waving fashion. Ministry of Silly Walks and Words. I think that something like this has been done before.
My close and scientific observations of the British news have led me to study the Outside Broadcasters. I have noticed that their initial words have been subject to a recent change in fashion. The Interviewer kicks off with a reasonably banal question. “So, Jim, what are the latest developments at Little Bloggwell on the Moat?” “Yes, Cynthia, well, at Little Bloggwell……..”
Yes? Well? What sort of response is that?
“George, how is Little Bloggwell expected to do in the FA Cup today?” “Yes, Fiona…….”
Yes? How can “Yes?” be the answer to a question starting with “How?” Perhaps this is an educated version of the schoolboy “errr ummm”.
However, one thing that I have learned from my general life’s experience is that as much as you might criticise fashion, you cannot stop it. So I have two suggestions.
1. Introduce this linguistic device into everyday conversation. “How was your day at work, dear?” “Yes, well, at work today …….” Someone will be taking the minutes next.
You can imagine a conversation in a bar. “Who won the Little Bloggwell Grand Prix today?” “Yes, Bill, the Grand Prix, which was held today,..…..”. Dear oh dear.
2. Another idea would be to rotate this redundant single syllable word. There could be a industry sponsored panel which would be responsible for deciding which word would be used for the following month.
Let me make some suggestions to kick off the panel’s work.
Kick
Dark
Woof
Moon
But my winner for the first month is “Frog”. “What are Nicolle Kidman’s chances at this year’s Oscars?” “Frog……” All answers must be started with this word.
You will have noticed that outside broadcasters walk around, usually towards the camera, and wave their hands while they talk? While my “Word-of-the-Month” panel is meeting, it could lay down the next walking and hand waving fashion. Ministry of Silly Walks and Words. I think that something like this has been done before.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Lance Armstrong - here we come!
I have talked for so long, about cycling from Thalwil to Chur (120 km). When the perfect opportunity came, it had to be done or Grumpy would have to shut up. Good weather, but not too hot and a member of the “Red Candles” to accompany me. PERFIK.
Met at Wannenstrasse at 08.10. Well equipped with water, sandwiches, snacky thingies with too much sugar and healthy nuts. Cycling gloves and helmets. Suncream, sunhat (for stops) and a signed form from Jim Gollan saying that 1) He does not hold Colin Hawker responsible for anything and 2) this was all his idea and 3) Colin Hawker is not such a bad chap, despite what everyone says.
Overnight bag left in the support car, driven by Hazel. And off we go.
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=3773760 shows the route (but you will need to blow it up a bit)
Thalwil to Richterswil 16 km (coffee and chocci gipfeli pause) Feeling good
Pfäffikon 22 km (Oh yes; charging on)
(short stop at Bollingen)
Rapperswil 27 km (Getting into the groove now)
Schmerikon 37 km (Pause) Feeling OK (ish)
Ziegelbrucke 53 km (lunch and recover) Feeling as if we have done some cycling
Mühlehorn 64 km (Oh, Better than expected).
Mols 68 km (long pause, and photos of the lake)
Walenstadt 75 km – nice lake - time for an ice cream and longer pause. Can we stay here, please? Now it’s beginning to hurt. Next section to Sargans is a steady 1% gradient (don’t laugh) and a 3 mph headwind and feels like climbing up Mount Everest.
Sargans (which is a town that shows its hatred for cyclists, by directing them through a closed off building site) 90 km (I am glad that bit is over)
Landquart 104 km (Knackered. Quick meeting; Jim in the Chair; Colin taking the minutes. IT WAS UNANIMOUSLY RESOLVED that we cannot stop now. Text Message to Support car, saying we are running 45 minutes behind schedule
More time lost, as we double back. "Jim, I swear that there was a path here last time I was here."
Chur (Athleticum) 118 km Arrive, pretending to look cool and elegant, with a sprint finish at 19.10 for photographs, TV interviews, champagne; book offers; statements that it was not trouble at all etc). Comments from Support Car “You both look white and knackered”- WHAT!!
…and no, you cannot go on to Domat Ems.
(For those who can do maths, 120 km in 10 hrs 40 mins is average of roughly 7 mph. Lance Armstrong – here we come.) Do they have Pauses in the Tour de France?
Followed by beer, wine, fish and chips and peas, chip butties, tomato ketchup, or HP sauce.
But definitely no grappa!!
Another tick in the box!! What’s next? Zurich Triathlon 2011? Better start training.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Who Took the Last Chocolate Brownie?
With apologies to Fabian Wallmeier
You know the scenario. You are in a living room, with a group of friends. You are chatting pleasantly. The tea and cakes have been served and now comes the moment you are dreading. There is only one cake left.
Everyone pretends not to notice. No one says anything. It would be a brave and foolhardy soul, who reaches over and takes the last cake. “Would anyone like the last cake?” someone modestly enquires. “Oh no, please go ahead”, comes the reply, instantaneously and probably unanimously. The last cake is taken and everyone can breathe again.
The reply “Yes – please, I haven’t eaten for 5 days” is not a socially acceptable response on these occasions.
But what happens if someone takes the last cake without saying anything? How could anyone live with themselves, after just leaning casually across and removing the solitary item and placing it unceremoniously into their mouth. What if having digested the cake in question, they then lick their fingers, and announce “That was good, wasn’t it”, or better still, after being stared at by so many disbelieving looks, adds “Oh sorry; did anyone else want this?” What still, if the person in question has to walk across the room to get to the plate?
Social exclusion follows. The frosty stares accuse the perpetrator of this ghastly crime.
Admire, then, the person who takes the last cake. Consider the service that they are providing to their friends, by removing the object of temptation from them. Consider further, the moral courage shown.
I could! Fabian Wallmeier did!! (although, in his case, Fabian's case, it was a chocolate brownie). Please remember the complement that Fabian and I are paying to the cook (because at all such occasions, we are talking “Home Made!!” with a Capital H.). Oh, yes, us gannets perform an important environmental functions, flattering out hosts and relieving the embarrassment of our friends.
Well done, Fabian.
You know the scenario. You are in a living room, with a group of friends. You are chatting pleasantly. The tea and cakes have been served and now comes the moment you are dreading. There is only one cake left.
Everyone pretends not to notice. No one says anything. It would be a brave and foolhardy soul, who reaches over and takes the last cake. “Would anyone like the last cake?” someone modestly enquires. “Oh no, please go ahead”, comes the reply, instantaneously and probably unanimously. The last cake is taken and everyone can breathe again.
The reply “Yes – please, I haven’t eaten for 5 days” is not a socially acceptable response on these occasions.
But what happens if someone takes the last cake without saying anything? How could anyone live with themselves, after just leaning casually across and removing the solitary item and placing it unceremoniously into their mouth. What if having digested the cake in question, they then lick their fingers, and announce “That was good, wasn’t it”, or better still, after being stared at by so many disbelieving looks, adds “Oh sorry; did anyone else want this?” What still, if the person in question has to walk across the room to get to the plate?
Social exclusion follows. The frosty stares accuse the perpetrator of this ghastly crime.
Admire, then, the person who takes the last cake. Consider the service that they are providing to their friends, by removing the object of temptation from them. Consider further, the moral courage shown.
I could! Fabian Wallmeier did!! (although, in his case, Fabian's case, it was a chocolate brownie). Please remember the complement that Fabian and I are paying to the cook (because at all such occasions, we are talking “Home Made!!” with a Capital H.). Oh, yes, us gannets perform an important environmental functions, flattering out hosts and relieving the embarrassment of our friends.
Well done, Fabian.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Has Winter finally left us?
These were the scenes that greeted us on Saturday. After three weeks of temperatures barely above 10 degrees and more or less constant rain, the sun made some modest attempts to show its face.
The snow is still there at the top. A reminder that until a few days ago, it was still snowing there. The effect and the contrast is striking.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Scientific Observations of the Grumpy Kind
As a matter of daily observation, we have all seen or experienced things, which cannot be explained? I know you have. These occurrences will be familiar to you as part of daily life. You take them for granted.
One day last month, having finished listening to the German news on my Ipod (Yes – I am still under illusion that I might conquer this language), I folded up my earphones and the leads, and tied them carefully. On retrieving them, they were a mess of tangled wires. Not possible under the laws of physics as we know them.
The tying of shoe laces is a relatively complicated affair. Those of us, brought up in the pre-Velcro era, have had this skill drilled in, as a necessary life skill. Yet this drilled routine provides a similar example of day to day extra-terrestrial physics. Parents, nannies or teachers are unable to explain why laces, when being undone, become knotted up, not just once, but often twice. Proper response (observed mainly by men) is to pull harder. The whole knot becomes tighter. Proper male response is to throw the shoe across the room, although the evidence that this resolves the problem is lacking.
Other day to day examples of space being twisted by Alien forces can be found inside Rucksacks. The internal characteristics of Rucksacks are a mystery to Physicists. The general rule is that, whatever you need out of the Rucksack, can only be found at the bottom, even though the item you need was the last one in. The Rucksack has to be emptied piece by piece, until the offending time creeps out, like a guilty schoolboy.
How often do we hear the cry “I know I put it here somewhere”? We hunt for a human culprit, not realising “it” has moved itself.
What happens to the odd missing socks after they have been washed (with apologies to Jasper Carrot)? Why are the car keys not on the window ledge where they were left? Who moved my glasses from the kitchen table?
How come the milk suddenly appears when Hazel goes to the fridge, when seconds earlier, it was not there? Is this evidence of parallel universes?
These objects rearrange themselves. But do they have intelligence or are they being controlled by dark matter. They seek their revenge against their oppressors, whom they drive quietly mad. They are coming to take over the world.
Exit left screaming. Ha Ha
One day last month, having finished listening to the German news on my Ipod (Yes – I am still under illusion that I might conquer this language), I folded up my earphones and the leads, and tied them carefully. On retrieving them, they were a mess of tangled wires. Not possible under the laws of physics as we know them.
The tying of shoe laces is a relatively complicated affair. Those of us, brought up in the pre-Velcro era, have had this skill drilled in, as a necessary life skill. Yet this drilled routine provides a similar example of day to day extra-terrestrial physics. Parents, nannies or teachers are unable to explain why laces, when being undone, become knotted up, not just once, but often twice. Proper response (observed mainly by men) is to pull harder. The whole knot becomes tighter. Proper male response is to throw the shoe across the room, although the evidence that this resolves the problem is lacking.
Other day to day examples of space being twisted by Alien forces can be found inside Rucksacks. The internal characteristics of Rucksacks are a mystery to Physicists. The general rule is that, whatever you need out of the Rucksack, can only be found at the bottom, even though the item you need was the last one in. The Rucksack has to be emptied piece by piece, until the offending time creeps out, like a guilty schoolboy.
How often do we hear the cry “I know I put it here somewhere”? We hunt for a human culprit, not realising “it” has moved itself.
What happens to the odd missing socks after they have been washed (with apologies to Jasper Carrot)? Why are the car keys not on the window ledge where they were left? Who moved my glasses from the kitchen table?
How come the milk suddenly appears when Hazel goes to the fridge, when seconds earlier, it was not there? Is this evidence of parallel universes?
These objects rearrange themselves. But do they have intelligence or are they being controlled by dark matter. They seek their revenge against their oppressors, whom they drive quietly mad. They are coming to take over the world.
Exit left screaming. Ha Ha
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Stamps from Spain
We have been away from Laax for over four weeks. We do not normally receive much mail there, but this time, we had five letters waiting for us. Great excitement as we opened them to find that we are four times winners of the Spanish and European lotteries. Unbelievable, it says. It’s not kidding either. It’s not believable. We have won euro 815,810, euro 3,935,510, euro 615,810 (hardly worth bothering about), and euro 950,777. All I need to do is to send in my bank details, sign and date it and the money will be paid in. Fantastic, isn’t it. And I never even bought a lottery ticket.
I am someone who believes that if it is too good to be true, it probably is (even if I do miss the odd Swiss Franc 10 note lying in the street). I will be giving this a miss. At least they are presented a great deal better that the ones that I first received in 1995. Do you remember these? They were allegedly from the Central Bank of Nigeria, on a 90 year old typewriter, and spelling that would disgrace Baby Giles (for those of you well educated enough to know the Giles Cartoons).
The fifth letter is from the attorney of Edwin Hawker, who may or may not be related to me. He has left $10m and as there is no one to claim it and as I have the same name, I am next in line. Only catch is that the attorney, (name and email address available on demand, in case you want to claim the money), wants to share it 50 / 50. We can’t be having that, can we. It’s all or nothing. In this case nothing. Anyway, I guess that 50% of nothing is still nothing.
Never mind, the stamps from Spain are nice.
I am someone who believes that if it is too good to be true, it probably is (even if I do miss the odd Swiss Franc 10 note lying in the street). I will be giving this a miss. At least they are presented a great deal better that the ones that I first received in 1995. Do you remember these? They were allegedly from the Central Bank of Nigeria, on a 90 year old typewriter, and spelling that would disgrace Baby Giles (for those of you well educated enough to know the Giles Cartoons).
The fifth letter is from the attorney of Edwin Hawker, who may or may not be related to me. He has left $10m and as there is no one to claim it and as I have the same name, I am next in line. Only catch is that the attorney, (name and email address available on demand, in case you want to claim the money), wants to share it 50 / 50. We can’t be having that, can we. It’s all or nothing. In this case nothing. Anyway, I guess that 50% of nothing is still nothing.
Never mind, the stamps from Spain are nice.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Tomatoes have Feelings
It is still cold out there. Frost is forecast in England. Temperatures here in Zurich are struggling to get over 10 degrees, with cold, miserable nights and it is still snowing in the mountains. Who knows when we are going to be able to walk over those lovely mountain passes? But, first and foremost in our minds at this time are the tomatoes. Tomatoes have feelings too, you know. They have to come in at night. By morning, of course, they are bursting for a “you know what”, so out they go again…..and stay there until the evening.
But these tomatoes are really spoilt. I know that little dogs (and some big ones) have their knitted coats, but who heard of tomatoes going on holiday before. Yes – the Hawker tomatoes are going to Laax for the holiday break. I mean, what a life. In Thalwil, on their own, they have no one to talk to and to keep them warm. Whatever next? They even wanted their photo taken (see below for happy family snap).
Now all the plants are at it. The geraniums want to be taken cycling, and the orchids want to visit the Zurich Art Museum. (Orchids are such snobs.) The spider plant in the bathroom wants to go and see all four Bruce Willis “Die Hard” movies in a single session. Now that is what I call taste.
Perhaps there is a market opening here. In 2011, I could start a plant sitting service. A two tier service. “Leave your plants with me” as the Standard service and for a Premium Service, I will travel within a radius of 8 km. Added extras, with price list and MWST (VAT to you Brits) will include “Walking your plant”, “Singing to your Plant” , “Telling your Plant a bed time story” and “Taking your plant to the cinema”. Aggressive or fighting plants will need to be muzzled. For Russian vines, we will need proof that they have been properly trained not to destroy the roof and poisoned ivy will be segregated or must have been de-poisoned within the previous 2 months (and a certificate to prove this). All plants must have micro chips so they do not get lost.
Do bee keepers take their hives on holiday with them? All that buzzing around in the car on the way to the South of France would be enough to drive anyone mad. “Are we there yet? bzzzzz” “WILL YOU STOP THAT BUZZING”. I could “Bee Sit” and they could pollinate the plants that I am looking after.
These Blogs are getting more and more ridiculous.
But these tomatoes are really spoilt. I know that little dogs (and some big ones) have their knitted coats, but who heard of tomatoes going on holiday before. Yes – the Hawker tomatoes are going to Laax for the holiday break. I mean, what a life. In Thalwil, on their own, they have no one to talk to and to keep them warm. Whatever next? They even wanted their photo taken (see below for happy family snap).
Now all the plants are at it. The geraniums want to be taken cycling, and the orchids want to visit the Zurich Art Museum. (Orchids are such snobs.) The spider plant in the bathroom wants to go and see all four Bruce Willis “Die Hard” movies in a single session. Now that is what I call taste.
Perhaps there is a market opening here. In 2011, I could start a plant sitting service. A two tier service. “Leave your plants with me” as the Standard service and for a Premium Service, I will travel within a radius of 8 km. Added extras, with price list and MWST (VAT to you Brits) will include “Walking your plant”, “Singing to your Plant” , “Telling your Plant a bed time story” and “Taking your plant to the cinema”. Aggressive or fighting plants will need to be muzzled. For Russian vines, we will need proof that they have been properly trained not to destroy the roof and poisoned ivy will be segregated or must have been de-poisoned within the previous 2 months (and a certificate to prove this). All plants must have micro chips so they do not get lost.
Do bee keepers take their hives on holiday with them? All that buzzing around in the car on the way to the South of France would be enough to drive anyone mad. “Are we there yet? bzzzzz” “WILL YOU STOP THAT BUZZING”. I could “Bee Sit” and they could pollinate the plants that I am looking after.
These Blogs are getting more and more ridiculous.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
My Popularity Ratings
As a Lean Six Sigma project manager, obsessed by reliable data, and strong connections between data and conclusions (Phew – that’s quite a mouthful), I have set out to find a source of data with strong correlation with my popularity. (Double Phew - don't stop now)
Where should I look? I could sponsor a survey to ask my friends, “If you were asked about Colin, would you say he was:
A - “Not at all Grumpy”
B - “A bit Grumpy”
C - “Generally Grumpy”
D - “Very Grumpy”
E - “He’s not a bad chap, despite what they say about him”. Thank you, Nigel Rogers
However, I did not go for this. I might find out something that would be better hidden. (Colin is unanimously a very ungrumpy person; not grumpy at all, despite all his efforts to the contrary).
In the event, I decided to find clues about myself in Spam. I have been saving Spam, from my email inbox, since the 22 March and have today reached 1,000. It has taken 20 days to reach this magical number. As Mark Hookey, Global Lean Six Sigma programme manager extraordinaire, taught me, the Baseline Indicator is 50 pieces of Spam per day.
Not exactly overpopular then. Only 50 messages per day. But can this be broken down further? We need further analysis. We need to stratify the data. Strong stuff.
353 items are encouraging me to take part in online gambling
290 messages are trying to sell me cheap pharmaceutical products
241 notes have been telling me how to do improbable things to various unprintable parts of my anatomy
Surprisingly, 107 of these unwanted pieces, designed to waste internet bandwidth were trying to sell me software.
I have no idea what 83 of them are, as they beckon me with a cheerful “Hi, Bud”, a reference to a central European beer, perhaps.
37 are telling me that I can get 80% off Viagra (some are 81%. Why 81%?)
Now you can do some arithmetic, and tell me how are left over. But what tentative conclusions (or hypotheses, as we technical people say) would you draw from this rag bag of statistics. (Are these numbers statistically valid, I hear you say. Those of you, who have been watching the U.K. general elections, will be asking “What is the margin of error?”
Conclusion 1 – he has too much time on his hands to produce this load of old cobblers
Conclusion 2 – he cannot add up.
Conclusion 3 – he is probably lying. He knows jolly well that Bud is a beer.
Conclusion 4 – It really is not true what they say about him.
Now I am back to place an online bet on how long the Conservative / Lib Dem coalition will last.
Where should I look? I could sponsor a survey to ask my friends, “If you were asked about Colin, would you say he was:
A - “Not at all Grumpy”
B - “A bit Grumpy”
C - “Generally Grumpy”
D - “Very Grumpy”
E - “He’s not a bad chap, despite what they say about him”. Thank you, Nigel Rogers
However, I did not go for this. I might find out something that would be better hidden. (Colin is unanimously a very ungrumpy person; not grumpy at all, despite all his efforts to the contrary).
In the event, I decided to find clues about myself in Spam. I have been saving Spam, from my email inbox, since the 22 March and have today reached 1,000. It has taken 20 days to reach this magical number. As Mark Hookey, Global Lean Six Sigma programme manager extraordinaire, taught me, the Baseline Indicator is 50 pieces of Spam per day.
Not exactly overpopular then. Only 50 messages per day. But can this be broken down further? We need further analysis. We need to stratify the data. Strong stuff.
353 items are encouraging me to take part in online gambling
290 messages are trying to sell me cheap pharmaceutical products
241 notes have been telling me how to do improbable things to various unprintable parts of my anatomy
Surprisingly, 107 of these unwanted pieces, designed to waste internet bandwidth were trying to sell me software.
I have no idea what 83 of them are, as they beckon me with a cheerful “Hi, Bud”, a reference to a central European beer, perhaps.
37 are telling me that I can get 80% off Viagra (some are 81%. Why 81%?)
Now you can do some arithmetic, and tell me how are left over. But what tentative conclusions (or hypotheses, as we technical people say) would you draw from this rag bag of statistics. (Are these numbers statistically valid, I hear you say. Those of you, who have been watching the U.K. general elections, will be asking “What is the margin of error?”
Conclusion 1 – he has too much time on his hands to produce this load of old cobblers
Conclusion 2 – he cannot add up.
Conclusion 3 – he is probably lying. He knows jolly well that Bud is a beer.
Conclusion 4 – It really is not true what they say about him.
Now I am back to place an online bet on how long the Conservative / Lib Dem coalition will last.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Swimming as a Physical Contact Sport
I bet you did not know that swimming is a physical contact sport. Actually walking across Zurich main station can be like fighting your way through the back row of the South African rugby team. Large handbags are the favourite weapons, and can deal a nasty blow if you don’t get out of the way. Turning suddenly with a rucksack is my favourite. So no quarter asked or given, especially when it comes to disembarking from the 07.50 at Zurich. Platform 51 is particularly to be avoided except by tag wrestlers in training.
Anyway back to swimming. The Red Candles triumphed at the Wallisellen mini-triathlon, taking three of the “Oldest Ten Participants” prize and successfully holding on to the last three places in the tournament.
We were gratefully welcomed by the organisers who cheered us, and then cleared up the tables and markers behind us. But we were well experienced in running with no one in sight, either in front of us or behind of us.
http://services.datasport.com/2010/triathlon/wallisellen/RANG014.HTM
In Front of the Red Candles were the serious athletes. 13,000 Swiss Francs (£7,500) for a bike that weighs less than a second class postage stamp, is a small price to pay for a top place in this internationally acclaimed sports event. A Hawker, Reincke or a Gollan in front of you in the swimming pool is like a mere spot on a smooth kitchen work surface, to be pushed aside in the quest of a sub-45 minute time.But you learn quickly. Don’t be shocked (as someone actually tries to swim though your private parts), but be sure to stick out elbows, legs, and any other sharp bits that you have at your disposal. Curiously, if you just keep going, push, shove, knee and elbow, then no one gets hurt.
(Do I hear my Dad asking if this is before or after we get into the pool?). But all good fun for all.
Thank goodness I will be in England for the Zurich Triathlon.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Coming Up Next
My fans are in despair. No blog entries since 5 April. It must be something to do with the end of the U.K. tax year, or as has been suggested, a lack of pep pills or the smoking of illegal substances (In the interests of political correctness, I formally and officially deny the smoking or imbibing of, or the involvement with Blog-writing enhancement substances). The creative juices have been challenged and the outpourings and ramblings of Grumpy, your friendly and absurd blog writer have been curtailed. But only temporarily. Attempts to revive the parts that other blog revivers cannot reach are on their way.
Encouraged by friends(see photo)and family, the notes and observations of Grumpy have been dusted down. Indignation has been sharpened. Observation has been put on red alert. With pencil and notebook poised, I am ready to note down the idiosyncrasies and absurdity of daily life, together with a random walk of the events of the Swiss Family Hawker.
So Coming Up Next………….
Have you noticed that whenever anyone says “Coming Up Next, ….”, the subject matter is "After something else". Television is the main user of this expression. “Coming up next, the goals from yesterday’s game”, signals an opportunity to pay a visit to the toilet, make a cup of tea, check the post, check your emails or make a short phone call. It is not a signal to sit tight and see the goals from yesterday’s game. It is an opportuntiy to watch a series of adverts that you have already seen, although at its best, it can provide harmless amusement, as the viewers try to guess what product is being advertised.
Yes – the expression “Coming Up Next” has moved its meaning to “Coming Up After Something Else”. What an interesting concept. “Your first in line for this job”, means that “You are second in line for the job”, which is the world of corporate lies has probably become the case. “Your complaint is Coming Up Next, to be answered”. “Your train is Coming Up Next”, means that we do not know what has happened to your train.
So, on my Blog, Coming Up Next is ………………………….
Encouraged by friends(see photo)and family, the notes and observations of Grumpy have been dusted down. Indignation has been sharpened. Observation has been put on red alert. With pencil and notebook poised, I am ready to note down the idiosyncrasies and absurdity of daily life, together with a random walk of the events of the Swiss Family Hawker.
So Coming Up Next………….
Have you noticed that whenever anyone says “Coming Up Next, ….”, the subject matter is "After something else". Television is the main user of this expression. “Coming up next, the goals from yesterday’s game”, signals an opportunity to pay a visit to the toilet, make a cup of tea, check the post, check your emails or make a short phone call. It is not a signal to sit tight and see the goals from yesterday’s game. It is an opportuntiy to watch a series of adverts that you have already seen, although at its best, it can provide harmless amusement, as the viewers try to guess what product is being advertised.
Yes – the expression “Coming Up Next” has moved its meaning to “Coming Up After Something Else”. What an interesting concept. “Your first in line for this job”, means that “You are second in line for the job”, which is the world of corporate lies has probably become the case. “Your complaint is Coming Up Next, to be answered”. “Your train is Coming Up Next”, means that we do not know what has happened to your train.
So, on my Blog, Coming Up Next is ………………………….
Monday, April 5, 2010
The First Barbecue of the Year
The clocks have gone forward, the evenings are longer, the first woodpecker has been heard a few days ago, the sun is still out (well, almost), so it is time for the first barbecue of the year. It is 7.00 pm on the 2nd April and temperature is about 3degrees. Some cheating is needed here. We use one of those gas barbecue thingies. This gets everything going. (Remember saying “We’ll never get one of those. What is wrong with charcoal?”).
The Swiss neighbours are puzzled by this, but probably put it down to a strange Anglo-Saxon ritual. The Swiss are big on barbecues, with the mountain sides and local parks all providing free wood and grills for family outings. But not normally in April.
To further your education on such matters, here is an important piece of advice on the cooking utensil front, when cooking outside in temperatures below 5 degrees. Use a spatula with a plastic handle. Try holding a metal one and you’ll see what I mean.
Some medium steaks, hamburgers, and sausages, with salad and baked potatoes, washed down with some Italian wine, at Chf 3.30 a bottle (less another 20% off, as it was on offer special). Net cost in real money: £1.60.
The snow is still on the mountains, and with the new snow just before Easter, the conditions are still pretty good. Perhaps one more weekend of skiing. Then we have to wait a few weeks before the first flowers start appearing on the mountain side.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Like a Damn Winter
My search for the essential Hawker continues. Although I wanted to be thought of as a spider, it is possible that we are butterflies. However, the Guardian reported that we are dragonflies and in danger of extinction. http://colinhawker.blogspot.com/2010/03/hawker-in-danger-of-extinction.html
I have been assisted in my search for personal identity by Max Küng, writer of a column in “Das Magazin”, in the Saturday Edition of the Tages Anzeiger. He comments that “The winter, this year, has been like a damn hawker, whom one sends to the devil, but simply won’t go away”. http://dasmagazin.ch/index.php/max-kung-53/ (The Google translator comes up with „damn peddler“. See the start of the 5th Paragraph).
My initial reaction was one of outrage. My emotions were similar to those I experienced, as a young man, on seeing myself unwanted in so many places. “No Hawker or Circulars” was a common warning to my kith and kin to stay away.
For Max Küng’s comments, I would write to my Swiss MP, a draft letter of protest to the Tages Anzeiger, instruct lawyers, organise a demonstration outside the offices of this newspaper and start a movement to promote “Hawkers are like the Spring”.
However, on more mature reflection (and dragonflies are not known for mature reflection), it is possible that Max Küng has shed a new light on the characteristics on Hawkers. It reminded me of an answer that I gave once at an interview, when asked what thought my defining characteristic is. “Stubbornness” was the immediate response. Certainly persistent. Probably also very irritating and annoying.
I should have added “Like a damn winter. You try to send it to the devil, but it simply won’t go away”.
I feel a new motto coming one.
I have been assisted in my search for personal identity by Max Küng, writer of a column in “Das Magazin”, in the Saturday Edition of the Tages Anzeiger. He comments that “The winter, this year, has been like a damn hawker, whom one sends to the devil, but simply won’t go away”. http://dasmagazin.ch/index.php/max-kung-53/ (The Google translator comes up with „damn peddler“. See the start of the 5th Paragraph).
My initial reaction was one of outrage. My emotions were similar to those I experienced, as a young man, on seeing myself unwanted in so many places. “No Hawker or Circulars” was a common warning to my kith and kin to stay away.
For Max Küng’s comments, I would write to my Swiss MP, a draft letter of protest to the Tages Anzeiger, instruct lawyers, organise a demonstration outside the offices of this newspaper and start a movement to promote “Hawkers are like the Spring”.
However, on more mature reflection (and dragonflies are not known for mature reflection), it is possible that Max Küng has shed a new light on the characteristics on Hawkers. It reminded me of an answer that I gave once at an interview, when asked what thought my defining characteristic is. “Stubbornness” was the immediate response. Certainly persistent. Probably also very irritating and annoying.
I should have added “Like a damn winter. You try to send it to the devil, but it simply won’t go away”.
I feel a new motto coming one.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Hawker in Danger of Extinction
It has taken Edward Hawker to discover our true nature and the danger of our position. We are dragonflies and are on the brink of extinction.
Personally, I had always regarded myself as a butterfly, never concentrating long enough to on any one subject to be an expert, and being an object of bewilderment to those around (“I wonder what he is up to this time? – another marathon, I suppose”) and then moving on to the next subject.
I am not sure about the distinctive elements in our genes. Hawker are adequately equipped for survival, can be randomly annoying and are fast enough to run away from danger. In the insect world, I could cope with being a spider. Additional possibilities here of causing some mischief, by scaring spinsters in their baths, before being swatted by the News of the World.
I would not want to be an ant. It’s a dog’s life being an ant (hmm), having to do as you are told, and carrying out a single prearranged task during your life. This would be too boring, unless you happen to be the one responsible for being the parent of 20 million offspring.
But I had never considered that I might be a dragonfly. Darting to and fro, albeit for only a brief time, and creating a colourful distraction to children playing by ponds. But no sooner have I discovered that I am a dragonfly, I find out that out the East Anglian branch is in danger of extinction. Global warming, the financial crisis and the internet must be to blame.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/gallery/2010/mar/11/conservation-wildlife?picture=360209661
To paraphrase Edward, “Oh no, the Norfolk Hawker is in danger from rising sea levels and loss of Wetland – Louise, what are you going to do if this reaches Norwich? Let’s hope this problem doesn’t reach that far.”
(Do dragonflies have to go through CRB checks, before being allowed to fly near children?)
Personally, I had always regarded myself as a butterfly, never concentrating long enough to on any one subject to be an expert, and being an object of bewilderment to those around (“I wonder what he is up to this time? – another marathon, I suppose”) and then moving on to the next subject.
I am not sure about the distinctive elements in our genes. Hawker are adequately equipped for survival, can be randomly annoying and are fast enough to run away from danger. In the insect world, I could cope with being a spider. Additional possibilities here of causing some mischief, by scaring spinsters in their baths, before being swatted by the News of the World.
I would not want to be an ant. It’s a dog’s life being an ant (hmm), having to do as you are told, and carrying out a single prearranged task during your life. This would be too boring, unless you happen to be the one responsible for being the parent of 20 million offspring.
But I had never considered that I might be a dragonfly. Darting to and fro, albeit for only a brief time, and creating a colourful distraction to children playing by ponds. But no sooner have I discovered that I am a dragonfly, I find out that out the East Anglian branch is in danger of extinction. Global warming, the financial crisis and the internet must be to blame.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/gallery/2010/mar/11/conservation-wildlife?picture=360209661
To paraphrase Edward, “Oh no, the Norfolk Hawker is in danger from rising sea levels and loss of Wetland – Louise, what are you going to do if this reaches Norwich? Let’s hope this problem doesn’t reach that far.”
(Do dragonflies have to go through CRB checks, before being allowed to fly near children?)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Onions and Fractels
I remember reading or hearing somewhere about fractals. Perhaps it was in a film, with a learned but slightly mad professor explaining the theory for the benefit of the audience. My memory of this is hazy. It involves some objects in nature, being divisible, and on being divided look similar to the whole. The Scandinavian coast and corral are given as examples – but I am not on very good ground here.
School homework fits this definition, but never gets a mention. No matter how much is cut away or divided, you are left with what you started.
Amazingly, I found an undocumented fractal in the kitchen yesterday, when I was cooking the Saturday evening meal. (This was necessary as Hazel had just come out of hospital, having had a number of four inch nails, as well as other parts from a large Meccano set, removed from her leg).
If there is sufficient demand, I will publish yesterday’s recipe for Grumpy’s curried chicken, made from leftover Christmas turkey and curry sauce from Tesco and old bananas. Somehow, I think that this demand will not be forthcoming, so I will return to the plot.
I had peeled an onion. Not so hard, you think. The skin had been removed, the onion diced and was sizzling gently on the frying pan. All that remained is too clear up the remains. Also not so hard, you think. You would be wrong. Onion skins are fractals, according to Grumpy’s newly invented theory of fractals.
Try picking up the onion skin and putting it in the kitchen bin. The onion ring splits into four bits, all images of each other and all now lying on the kitchen floor. Bending down to pick up these fractal images of the previous onion skin, and ignoring the complaints of pain coming from my back, I picked up the remains. One of these remains now also proceeds to replicate itself and spread itself over a distance of four feet. Two more rounds of this, and I am a defeated man. There are still parts of this Scandinavian coastline somewhere in the kitchen.
Perhaps I could include this as part of the apartment particulars when we come to sell the apartment. “A deceptively spacious family dwelling, complete with its own fractals”.
--------------------------------------------------------
(By the way, why do people always refer to Tescos – “I went to Tescos”; Is this the supermarket equivalent of a pub crawl?).
School homework fits this definition, but never gets a mention. No matter how much is cut away or divided, you are left with what you started.
Amazingly, I found an undocumented fractal in the kitchen yesterday, when I was cooking the Saturday evening meal. (This was necessary as Hazel had just come out of hospital, having had a number of four inch nails, as well as other parts from a large Meccano set, removed from her leg).
If there is sufficient demand, I will publish yesterday’s recipe for Grumpy’s curried chicken, made from leftover Christmas turkey and curry sauce from Tesco and old bananas. Somehow, I think that this demand will not be forthcoming, so I will return to the plot.
I had peeled an onion. Not so hard, you think. The skin had been removed, the onion diced and was sizzling gently on the frying pan. All that remained is too clear up the remains. Also not so hard, you think. You would be wrong. Onion skins are fractals, according to Grumpy’s newly invented theory of fractals.
Try picking up the onion skin and putting it in the kitchen bin. The onion ring splits into four bits, all images of each other and all now lying on the kitchen floor. Bending down to pick up these fractal images of the previous onion skin, and ignoring the complaints of pain coming from my back, I picked up the remains. One of these remains now also proceeds to replicate itself and spread itself over a distance of four feet. Two more rounds of this, and I am a defeated man. There are still parts of this Scandinavian coastline somewhere in the kitchen.
Perhaps I could include this as part of the apartment particulars when we come to sell the apartment. “A deceptively spacious family dwelling, complete with its own fractals”.
--------------------------------------------------------
(By the way, why do people always refer to Tescos – “I went to Tescos”; Is this the supermarket equivalent of a pub crawl?).
Friday, March 5, 2010
Flat Eric Awards
My good friend Nigel Rogers an his wife, Christina, have been staying with us. We were discussing the dismal state of the world and agreed that it wasn’t like this in our day. For some reason, we had read an article in the Spectator, which wrote about the proliferation of award ceremonies, the particular one in question at that time being the BAFTAs.
So because we were in disagreeing mood, we disagreed and decided that the Spectator must be wrong and there were not enough awards.
This deficiency needs to be addressed. We have decided to establish our own awards. Too many people have been excluded from having an award, the categories discriminating against people who don’t qualify. As discrimination is a bad thing, someone should do something.
Everyone must win something. For example, Nigel has been nominated for the Cooking Ratatouille on Monday award. Christina will be nominated for the “Skiing with her Skis very close together 15 yards ahead of Colin” award. Colin will be nominated for the “Complaining very loudly about the music before it has been switched on” award. And so on. You get the idea.
We will need our own Awards ceremony and everyone must cry and be very emotional. Flat Eric, our sponsor, will take charge of the proceedings.
Flat Eric will be lobbying the Government to set up an “Awards Equality Commission” Do you think that he can get a grant for this?
So because we were in disagreeing mood, we disagreed and decided that the Spectator must be wrong and there were not enough awards.
This deficiency needs to be addressed. We have decided to establish our own awards. Too many people have been excluded from having an award, the categories discriminating against people who don’t qualify. As discrimination is a bad thing, someone should do something.
Everyone must win something. For example, Nigel has been nominated for the Cooking Ratatouille on Monday award. Christina will be nominated for the “Skiing with her Skis very close together 15 yards ahead of Colin” award. Colin will be nominated for the “Complaining very loudly about the music before it has been switched on” award. And so on. You get the idea.
We will need our own Awards ceremony and everyone must cry and be very emotional. Flat Eric, our sponsor, will take charge of the proceedings.
Flat Eric will be lobbying the Government to set up an “Awards Equality Commission” Do you think that he can get a grant for this?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Has Spring arrived?
Three days ago, when out walking, we heard a woodpecker. Then again the next day, back at the apartment, it was the same fast drilling and unmistakable sound of a woodpecker.
This morning, two sparrows were chasing each other, looking very lively. I have no idea what they were doing.
The snow in Laax (at 3,500 feet) has melted. The meadows, at this time of year normally serving as a toboggan run, are looking bare, as is the ski run down to Falera (at 4,250 feet) – (see photos). The first butterfly in Switzerland has been spotted (so I am told). All this caused by unseasonally warm 10° weather (50° in old money).
The Swiss snow has, in the meantime, moved to the British Isles. I hear that Scotland has more snow than the rest of Europe. Perhaps Scotland will export it. Scottish ski resorts are enjoying a boom and British motorists are learning the benefits of snow chains and winter tyres.
Perhaps spring is coming early to Switzerland. I am getting my swimming trunks out ready to swim in the lake, and my shorts and T-Shorts are standing ready for some serious hiking.
But then, perhaps not. The grass has not yet started to turn green and the ducks have not returned to the Laax lake. The weather could still make fools of us all. A cold snap, 3 feet of snow overnight and the usual chaos will ensue. Yes, three feet of snow overnight will be noticed even here.
I enjoy spring. So getting more value for my money out of ski pass or seeing the spring flowers and feeding the ducks, I win either way.
(Where do the Laax ducks go for the winter?)
Friday, February 26, 2010
It All Depends on Your Point of View
The Zurich weather has, at last, allowed us to start the cycling part of our training for the upcoming (mini) Triathlon. I say “us”. There are now three grand old men, attempting to show that the body is not aging as fast as it looks. Younger runners are just getting faster.
In this cycling training, the motorist is now the enemy. Passing too close, despite the “Dotted Line” or coming out of a side road and pushing out too far. Traffic lights are a regular scrummage, although I think that this can be avoided by adopting the Swiss cyclists’ view that stopping at traffic lights is voluntary. In fact, Motorists should be banned, at least when I am cycling.
Back in the car later in the day, roles are reversed. Cyclists hog the white line. They ride side by side (requiring a quiet, but satisfying hoot) and randomly turn left without any indication. In fact, they should be banned, at least when I am driving.
On the ski slopes, the same principles apply. When I first took up skiing, I had a minor fall with a snowboarder. In the (Zurich) office, the next day, describing this and accepting 75% of the blame, I was told that it was the snowboarder’s fault. I wanted to explain how it happened. However I was told, that this is not the point. It was the snowboarder’s fault, as a “matter of law”. Well that’s a relief and introduces a certain simplicity into the debate.
I am not a snowboarder, but I have no doubt that the same, but opposite laws apply.
Into this emotional equation comes the walker. This breed is very cautious and generally stays well clear of skiers and snowboarders. However, when walker meets a skier on a walking path, then the result is highly uncertain. Most recent experiences suggest that walkers can come off best if they hold their ground. Fun can be had by all, by the mutual exchange of insults and recrimination (in English, of course). The walker has the advantage here, as the skiers are by now downhill, and snowboots make a chase impossible.
Additional layers of complication are added by the presence of tobogganists, who take precedence over everything.
In this cycling training, the motorist is now the enemy. Passing too close, despite the “Dotted Line” or coming out of a side road and pushing out too far. Traffic lights are a regular scrummage, although I think that this can be avoided by adopting the Swiss cyclists’ view that stopping at traffic lights is voluntary. In fact, Motorists should be banned, at least when I am cycling.
Back in the car later in the day, roles are reversed. Cyclists hog the white line. They ride side by side (requiring a quiet, but satisfying hoot) and randomly turn left without any indication. In fact, they should be banned, at least when I am driving.
On the ski slopes, the same principles apply. When I first took up skiing, I had a minor fall with a snowboarder. In the (Zurich) office, the next day, describing this and accepting 75% of the blame, I was told that it was the snowboarder’s fault. I wanted to explain how it happened. However I was told, that this is not the point. It was the snowboarder’s fault, as a “matter of law”. Well that’s a relief and introduces a certain simplicity into the debate.
I am not a snowboarder, but I have no doubt that the same, but opposite laws apply.
Into this emotional equation comes the walker. This breed is very cautious and generally stays well clear of skiers and snowboarders. However, when walker meets a skier on a walking path, then the result is highly uncertain. Most recent experiences suggest that walkers can come off best if they hold their ground. Fun can be had by all, by the mutual exchange of insults and recrimination (in English, of course). The walker has the advantage here, as the skiers are by now downhill, and snowboots make a chase impossible.
Additional layers of complication are added by the presence of tobogganists, who take precedence over everything.
It All Depends on Your Point of View
The Zurich weather has, at last, allowed us to start the cycling part of our training for the upcoming (mini) Triathlon. I say “us”. There are now three grand old men, attempting to show that the body is not aging as fast as it looks. Younger runners are just getting faster.
In this cycling training, the motorist is now the enemy. Passing too close, despite the “Dotted Line” or coming out of a side road and pushing out too far. Traffic lights are a regular scrummage, although I think that this can be avoided by adopting the Swiss cyclists’ view that stopping at traffic lights is voluntary. In fact, Motorists should be banned, at least when I am cycling.
Back in the car later in the day, roles are reversed. Cyclists hog the white line. They ride side by side (requiring a quiet, but satisfying hoot) and randomly turn left without any indication. In fact, they should be banned, at least when I am driving.
On the ski slopes, the same principles apply. When I first took up skiing, I had a minor fall with a snowboarder. In the (Zurich) office, the next day, describing this and accepting 75% of the blame, I was told that it was the snowboarder’s fault. I wanted to explain how it happened. However I was told, that this is not the point. It was the snowboarder’s fault, as a “matter of law”. Well that’s a relief and introduces a certain simplicity into the debate.
I am not a snowboarder, but I have no doubt that the opposite laws apply.
Into this emotional equation comes the walker. This breed is very cautious and generally stays well clear of skiers and snowboarders. However, when walker meets a skier on a walking path, then the result is highly uncertain. Most recent experiences suggest that walkers can come off best if they hold there ground. Fun can be had by all, by the mutual exchange of insults and recrimination (in English, of course). The walker has the advantage here, as the skiers are by now downhill, and snowboots make a chase impossible.
Additional layers of complication are added by the presence of tobogganists, who take precedence over everything.
In this cycling training, the motorist is now the enemy. Passing too close, despite the “Dotted Line” or coming out of a side road and pushing out too far. Traffic lights are a regular scrummage, although I think that this can be avoided by adopting the Swiss cyclists’ view that stopping at traffic lights is voluntary. In fact, Motorists should be banned, at least when I am cycling.
Back in the car later in the day, roles are reversed. Cyclists hog the white line. They ride side by side (requiring a quiet, but satisfying hoot) and randomly turn left without any indication. In fact, they should be banned, at least when I am driving.
On the ski slopes, the same principles apply. When I first took up skiing, I had a minor fall with a snowboarder. In the (Zurich) office, the next day, describing this and accepting 75% of the blame, I was told that it was the snowboarder’s fault. I wanted to explain how it happened. However I was told, that this is not the point. It was the snowboarder’s fault, as a “matter of law”. Well that’s a relief and introduces a certain simplicity into the debate.
I am not a snowboarder, but I have no doubt that the opposite laws apply.
Into this emotional equation comes the walker. This breed is very cautious and generally stays well clear of skiers and snowboarders. However, when walker meets a skier on a walking path, then the result is highly uncertain. Most recent experiences suggest that walkers can come off best if they hold there ground. Fun can be had by all, by the mutual exchange of insults and recrimination (in English, of course). The walker has the advantage here, as the skiers are by now downhill, and snowboots make a chase impossible.
Additional layers of complication are added by the presence of tobogganists, who take precedence over everything.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Who does the dotted line belong to?
Switzerland loves cyclists. In fact, most forms of exercise are encouraged. The authorities go to great lengths and expense to assist in this. Anyone who has been hiking in Switzerland will acknowledge the richness of information on the walking signs. “Albis – 1 hr 45 mins” has much more information than “2 miles” and then omitting to say that there is a climb up of 1, 250 feet.
Cyclists also well catered for. On many main roads, they are protected from the motorist (the enemy), by a white line, over which the motor car shall not pass.
But who owns the white line. Does the wheel of the bike have to be inside the white line? Must the whole of the body of the cyclist have to be over the white line? Can the wheels of the bike be on the line? What a huge number of questions? I need a lawyer.
Imagine if the motorist has the same idea. Suppose both are entitled to be on the white line. Can a cyclist and a motor car exist in the same space_time co-ordinate?
So, as a cyclist, I stay as far as I can in my cycle lane, so as to avoid a motorist exercising his rights of ownership over the white line. As a driver, I stay away from the cyclist exercising his rights over the line.
Am I allowed to hoot him, as I pass? Not even quietly?
Cyclists also well catered for. On many main roads, they are protected from the motorist (the enemy), by a white line, over which the motor car shall not pass.
But who owns the white line. Does the wheel of the bike have to be inside the white line? Must the whole of the body of the cyclist have to be over the white line? Can the wheels of the bike be on the line? What a huge number of questions? I need a lawyer.
Imagine if the motorist has the same idea. Suppose both are entitled to be on the white line. Can a cyclist and a motor car exist in the same space_time co-ordinate?
So, as a cyclist, I stay as far as I can in my cycle lane, so as to avoid a motorist exercising his rights of ownership over the white line. As a driver, I stay away from the cyclist exercising his rights over the line.
Am I allowed to hoot him, as I pass? Not even quietly?
Monday, February 22, 2010
What they teach in Ski School
Tobogganists may go on any run and paths, including those used by skiers and walkers. In addition, there are tracks made specifically for them, but these are optional.
Snowboarders must learn to stop and sit down at any point, preferably sitting side by side at the top of slopes and especially where the ski runs narrow.
Under 10s – Queuing at ski lifts is optional. Parents are allowed to follow.
Beginners and Intermediate skiers must learn to ski as close to others. Do not make use of the width of the ski run. Make friends and be close to people, by overtaking and then falling over directly in front of others.
Expert and Intermediate Skiers may take part in a competition to cross directly in front of a beginner and to get as near to the front of their skis as possible. No points are awarded for crossing over the back of the beginner’s skis.
Expert Skiers must make long turns at high speed, to ensure that a deep rut is left. When this freezes over, an inexperienced skier will fall over, creating laughter for all.
General Information. It is important to be able to recover quickly having caused an accident, in order to ski off. Leaving personal details only creates work between insurance companies, and may delay the first beer of the evening.
I am glad that I have got this lot off my chest. Now I can find something else to complain about.
Snowboarders must learn to stop and sit down at any point, preferably sitting side by side at the top of slopes and especially where the ski runs narrow.
Under 10s – Queuing at ski lifts is optional. Parents are allowed to follow.
Beginners and Intermediate skiers must learn to ski as close to others. Do not make use of the width of the ski run. Make friends and be close to people, by overtaking and then falling over directly in front of others.
Expert and Intermediate Skiers may take part in a competition to cross directly in front of a beginner and to get as near to the front of their skis as possible. No points are awarded for crossing over the back of the beginner’s skis.
Expert Skiers must make long turns at high speed, to ensure that a deep rut is left. When this freezes over, an inexperienced skier will fall over, creating laughter for all.
General Information. It is important to be able to recover quickly having caused an accident, in order to ski off. Leaving personal details only creates work between insurance companies, and may delay the first beer of the evening.
I am glad that I have got this lot off my chest. Now I can find something else to complain about.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Winter Fun in Laax
Today we were in Laax again. Minus 15 degrees but not a cloud in the sky. So cold that, at the car wash, the water froze solid on the car. I won't try that again.
No skiing this weekend, just walking at 8,000 feet, enjoying the wonderful views.
On coming back to Laax (at a mere 3,500 feet), we visited the Snow Festival, where the whole village including children, turned out for the Swiss winter equivalent of a summer fete. Lunch just had to be Bratwurst, followed by freshly made doughnuts.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Shouting at the Television
I have always found it very therapeutic to shout at the television and the people on the news, the broadcasters, interviewers, interviewees, and the journalists themselves. They are so irritating.
Of course, my behaviour is disruptive and annoying to anyone trying to watch. It is also irrational. But I have been off form recently. Not nearly enough anger and heckling recently. But I was on good form Monday evening. “What is the matter with that man? Has he got a crick in his neck?” referring to the reporter in Los Angeles, who had his head at 45 degrees, as if consoling an upset colleague, speaking about the arrest of Michal Jackson’s doctor.
“Can’t that woman shut up?” I shouted as the presenter asks the same question in 4 different ways, taking longer than the answer itself. Then of course, there was a senior civil servant, desperately trying to stay on script, looking sincere, but with his hands, shoulders and, in fact all moving bodily parts, totally static, as he talks in a style that I reserve for reading train timetables. “Has he got piles?”
Then I was brought down to earth, as I waited to hear whether the name of the soldier killed in Afghanistan is someone we know. There is an empty feeling the in the bottom of the stomach, which is not relieved as the name is not given, although the family have been informed. Now I go quiet.
Of course, my behaviour is disruptive and annoying to anyone trying to watch. It is also irrational. But I have been off form recently. Not nearly enough anger and heckling recently. But I was on good form Monday evening. “What is the matter with that man? Has he got a crick in his neck?” referring to the reporter in Los Angeles, who had his head at 45 degrees, as if consoling an upset colleague, speaking about the arrest of Michal Jackson’s doctor.
“Can’t that woman shut up?” I shouted as the presenter asks the same question in 4 different ways, taking longer than the answer itself. Then of course, there was a senior civil servant, desperately trying to stay on script, looking sincere, but with his hands, shoulders and, in fact all moving bodily parts, totally static, as he talks in a style that I reserve for reading train timetables. “Has he got piles?”
Then I was brought down to earth, as I waited to hear whether the name of the soldier killed in Afghanistan is someone we know. There is an empty feeling the in the bottom of the stomach, which is not relieved as the name is not given, although the family have been informed. Now I go quiet.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Haud Civitas Sententia
Lucy Kellaway writes a weekly column in the Financial Times. With wit and insight as her main weapons, she challenges and mocks much of what is accepted as corporate wisdom. This Monday’s article was in praise of Latin mottos. You should to read it to understand the relevance of this.
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/4a849ce4-128f-11df-a611-00144feab49a.html?ftcamp=rss
Inspired by this, I went in search of my own Latin motto. Not sure where to start, I looked at my own blogs to see if there were some discernible themes to draw on.
There are some personal news items. Not much mileage here. There are some speculations about subjects on which there is no general interest, such as the neglect of Prime Numbers, whether the 3rd wise man was actually a shepherd collected on the way, and the merits of reading books backwards. Possibly something here.
There are some observations about everyday life. And there are opinions, dressed up as questions. You will recognise this as a coward’s way of making a statement while being able to deny any particular meaning, the blog equivalent of a deniable Cabinet Meeting leak.
I am beginning to see a pattern here. “No stated opinions”, seems to be a theme, which according to one online translator is “Haud Civitas Sententia”. This sounds sufficiently grand for the purpose.
All I need now is a coat of arms to go with it. All contributions welcome.
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/4a849ce4-128f-11df-a611-00144feab49a.html?ftcamp=rss
Inspired by this, I went in search of my own Latin motto. Not sure where to start, I looked at my own blogs to see if there were some discernible themes to draw on.
There are some personal news items. Not much mileage here. There are some speculations about subjects on which there is no general interest, such as the neglect of Prime Numbers, whether the 3rd wise man was actually a shepherd collected on the way, and the merits of reading books backwards. Possibly something here.
There are some observations about everyday life. And there are opinions, dressed up as questions. You will recognise this as a coward’s way of making a statement while being able to deny any particular meaning, the blog equivalent of a deniable Cabinet Meeting leak.
I am beginning to see a pattern here. “No stated opinions”, seems to be a theme, which according to one online translator is “Haud Civitas Sententia”. This sounds sufficiently grand for the purpose.
All I need now is a coat of arms to go with it. All contributions welcome.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I am a Hero (and Stretching before Starbucks)
You may already know that I am planning to complete a mini Triathlon in April. This has required frequent (but short) training sessions, with my co-mini-triathlete, Jim. Cycling training has not yet started, because of the weather, but the swimming and running is ahead of schedule.
Today was running. The temperature outside was 2 degrees, which sounds bad. However, even with the wind factor, this is better than minus 2 degrees, as the ice has mostly melted (or bad, if you prefer an excuse to stay indoors).
To my shame, I failed to appreciate the cry of one of my colleagues, who exclaimed “You are my Hero”. My English reserve came to the front. I replied “Why?” Quickly recovering from this bad start, “But of course. Am I not I everybody’s hero?” Overdoing it somewhat now.
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The secret of running in public, when it is cold (and you would rather be indoors, instead of being one of your colleague’s heroes), is to walk fast, but make it look as if you are running. This is the athletic equivalent of a PowerPoint Presentation, This will be recognisable to those of you familiar with the art of taking nothing and making it appear like a strategic change for a multi-national company.
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On returning from my run, a college from Finance said that he had thought of going jogging, but decided to buy a Starbucks coffee instead. After brief discussion on this point, we decided that this must be the equivalent of 5 km. Of course, as a good fellow athlete, I reminded him of the need to stretch before and after drinking Starbucks.
Perhaps, it is necessary to stretch before and after PowerPoint Presentations.
Today was running. The temperature outside was 2 degrees, which sounds bad. However, even with the wind factor, this is better than minus 2 degrees, as the ice has mostly melted (or bad, if you prefer an excuse to stay indoors).
To my shame, I failed to appreciate the cry of one of my colleagues, who exclaimed “You are my Hero”. My English reserve came to the front. I replied “Why?” Quickly recovering from this bad start, “But of course. Am I not I everybody’s hero?” Overdoing it somewhat now.
---------------------------------------
The secret of running in public, when it is cold (and you would rather be indoors, instead of being one of your colleague’s heroes), is to walk fast, but make it look as if you are running. This is the athletic equivalent of a PowerPoint Presentation, This will be recognisable to those of you familiar with the art of taking nothing and making it appear like a strategic change for a multi-national company.
---------------------------------------
On returning from my run, a college from Finance said that he had thought of going jogging, but decided to buy a Starbucks coffee instead. After brief discussion on this point, we decided that this must be the equivalent of 5 km. Of course, as a good fellow athlete, I reminded him of the need to stretch before and after drinking Starbucks.
Perhaps, it is necessary to stretch before and after PowerPoint Presentations.
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