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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
