Every Inchie Monday: Tourist

This week's Inchie topic is tourist. It's been a long time since I went to the States, and I've never been to LA. But this is sort of a dream trip. See more inchies by visiting the group site. The link is in the badge on the left.

Fish for breakfast?

We've been to the seaside for the weekend. We had an excellent view from the room. Out over Morecambe Bay towards Cartmel and the Lakes. It was on a room only basis and we were sitting there eating instant porridge this morning while we studied the view when we were joined by this chap. 

Our visitor brought his own breakfast with him. Maybe he didn't fancy porridge, but I didn't fancy what he was having either. He spent a good deal of time on it.

 He even tried swallowing it whole at one point, but it wouldn't fit. It took a lot of battering around before he managed to eat it. But it gave us some great entertainment while he was pecking away at it.

Not even any good at whingeing

I'm in the mood for a whinge. I blame the dentist. Yesterday's appointment was tough. Very tough. and I still feel as if I've been head-first through a mangle.

Thing is, I can't think what to whinge about. I can't even really complain about the tooth jockey. After all, it's not his fault that my gums decided to play up yesterday and bleed profusely all over him. Technically it's my fault. It's my blood. And I can't object to the fact that the only treatments available to him to stop them bleeding are rather unpleasant (and involve seriously disgusting chemicals or electricity, or a combination of both). No. Andrew's in the clear.

I could moan about the Olympics being everywhere and there being nowhere to go to escape them and frankly BBC I don't care about the studio you'll be in for the next 97 weeks while you bring me coverage of "these historic games" because:
1.) As far as I'm concerned that's like showing me the laptop you typed your script on, and
2.) I won't be watching anyway.
But if I talk about the Olympics I'm contributing to the problem. In fact I already did, so there you go.

I suppose I could tell you about my boss and how he's about as much use as plastic tongs at a barbecue. But everyone does that, don't they? That's why we have bosses, isn't it? To slag off.

There's the traffic on the way to work. But I did that before. There's the fact that we waited months for the rain to stop and now it's too darned hot. There's someone doing work next door and I can hear hammering and it's annoying. I'd like to go out for a Chinese meal tonight (sunshine has that effect on me) but both my bank manager and my doctor would advise against it. (For different reasons, obviously.)

None of these is really that impressive though, is it? They are all rather unimportant in the great scheme of things. So I think I'll just go and grumble to myself until I get over whatever it is that's bugging me. Ignore me. I'll get over it.

Cherry harvest time

I think it must be cherry harvest time in Michigan - at least it is here in our house, courtesy of some friends in Ann Arbor.

I got back from the dentist this lunchtime (I won't bore you with details. It hurts. I'm feeling sorry for myself again.) to find a note through the door saying there was a parcel waiting for me at the post office.

It was from my lovely friend Kate (who doesn't blog because she's so busy doing other stuff) and was packed with goodies from Michigan. Cherry flavoured tea (that should be flavored, from America, shouldn't it?) chocolate cherry coffee, cherry patterned fabric, dried cherries, a yummy looking jar of 'pub' mustard and a few other little treats. Check out that collection of cute, tiny glass animals. If I can work out how to hang them they'll end up on our Christmas tree this year.

Thank you Kate. I shall keep an eye out for some English goodies to send back to you.

Every Inchie Monday: Glass

I couldn't help myself with this one. Glass immediately suggested stained glass windows. It's an art project I've played around with for many years, though always on a larger scale. But I had to have a go at making inch square windows.
This is the one I'm declaring:

It looks better at proper size than it does blown up here. I can't get the colours to show properly in a photo. It's based on the Baptistry window at Coventry Cathedral - like this.

I also had a go at doing a couple of 'rose' windows, which were popular in medieval cathedrals. But I just wasn't happy with them. I can't get enough detail into them. Maybe I'll try in another medium and see what I can do.

I admit I drew the design on a computer and coloured them in afterwards (that's why the traceries match)

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Early start

I've been awake for two and a half hours and it's only 7am! Work that out - it means I woke up at 4.30 this morning. It wasn't my idea. Unfortunately E.On (US interpretation: power supply company.) were planning to switch off an electricity sub station at 6am, next to the factory where K works, and that meant the place would shut down. It's all computer controlled and they're on 24 hour production at the moment (They make shop fittings - WHAT recession?) so he had to be on hand to make sure it was safe to power down, and then power everything back up again. You'd think they'd have back-up generators wouldn't you? But no. They have back-up K.

Under normal circumstances it's an hour and a half drive for him, but he hoped it wouldn't take that long at 5 o'clock. He set off while it was still almost dark, kissed me goodbye before he left and told me to go back to sleep. No chance. I've been awake ever since. I stopped TRYING to go back to sleep at about quarter to six and went and made myself some tea and toast.

He took a sandwich with him that he's probably eating round about now, and I'm sat here planning brunch for when he gets back about 1-ish.That's what the photo is about. It's a pastrami on wheat bread that I had a few years ago in the States. (At The Salem Diner, to be precise. As in Salem, Mass. Witch country. You know.....) There isn't any pastrami, although I have got bagels and lox, and I'm also planning to offer home made muesli, Welsh rabbit (rarebit is incorrect, apparently), a nectarine smoothie, orange wedges and coffee. I contemplated adding potato rosti to that, but I think that might be a bit much.

Meanwhile I have about six and a half hours to kill. That's almost a full day's work. Isn't Sunday morning supposed to be for having a lie-in?

The word you're looking for Mr Buckles......

So CEO of G4S Nick Buckles is 'embarrassed' about the company's handling of the Olympic security fiasco. I bet he is. Embarrassed all the way to the bank. They've been offered £284 million for the job and he's suggested he'll give back £50 million because they've failed to deliver. He's planning to keep the £57 million management fee though. Management fee?  For WHAT exactly? Just what has G4S 'managed' throughout all of this?

Well, they've managed to gloss over what's going to happen to the other £177 million not currently accounted for. And they've managed not to sack their CEO, even though it's becoming increasingly obvious that he's known for a good while that he won't be able to deliver on the contract.

They've managed to cause distress to a lot of troops who are currently waiting to be relieved in Afghanistan, because the soldiers due to take over from them are going to be a bit busy in London. 

They've managed to drag a lot of police away from more pressing duties preventing thefts and violence so that they can fill in for the missing security staff guarding the Olympic athletes.

But they haven't managed to fulfil their contract. They've managed to screw up royally!

He's said they're sorry - but the one thing he hasn't said is how he SHOULD feel.

The word you're looking for Mr Buckles, is 'ashamed'. 

Every Inchie Monday: Black

Felt, beads, ribbon, a heart brad, and a mirror. It's black. Very black. To see more inchies, pleas click the badge on the left.

Not enough hours

I've never really been one to complain about trying to fit everything in to my life. I've always had the kind of job that required prioritising and meeting deadlines and so it's been a way of life. If something needed doing, I just got on with it.

But somehow just lately I seem to be missing a few things around the edges. And that includes blogging.

Anyone who reads my other blog will know that I was a little preoccupied last week because I'd lost a rather important document and could find no trace of it, either physically or digitally. I turned the house over while I was looking, so I had a lot of clearing up to do and sorting out and throwing away. (Which is a good thing but you can't see where I've been. It's still a wreck!)

I found it in the end and now I have to start work on it again, but so far I've managed to squeeze in a couple of 10 minute slots, and that's been mainly to get back into the swing of it. (It's a work in progress novel.) Beyond that I've achieved very little.

So this post is by way of a catch-up. A reminder that I'm still here. An apology for not keeping in touch. A bigger apology for not commenting on all your blogs for what seems like ages.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Progress report.

I've been to the dentist again today. A little over two hours this time. We're three fifths of the way through now, unless you count all the preparation surgery up front, in which case we're a lot closer than that. But I still have two fifths of my mouth with temporary teeth.

It's all going to be done by mid August - just another two appointments, as long as nothing goes wrong.

There was a bit of trouble with the right hand side, making the top and bottom fit exactly, and the temporaries fell out a couple of times so I had to go back at short notice to have them glued in again.

The last bit will be the front four top ones. I just hope that they'll fit into the space that's left for them when the other four stages are complete.

Meanwhile I'm a bit sore where the injections went in, and it hurts a bit where he had to trim the edges because my gums have shrunk back. I'm also going to have to start again with the sensitive toothpaste, because the protection I'd built up was drilled away this morning.

Repeat after me: it's all going to be worth it in the end.

Every Inchie Monday: Mountain

Mountain inchie. The background is a japanese silk paper and the mountain and scenery are from used stamps. I couldn't resist the goat!

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It's not so much the sport, it's the grunting I can't stand

You can't help but notice. It's a bit of a sporty summer. It's a wet one. But there's plenty of sport going on. I hate most sport. I'll watch an occasional rugby match, and K is keen on Formula 1, so I see a lot of that, but on the whole I can live without it. Specially tennis.

I can just about cope with that 'twang twang' noise as the ball hits the cat gut. And the crowds are very well behaved (Not like football fans. Shouty, roaring, chanting and just plain offensive.) No, what puts me off tennis is the weird sounds the players make.

A couple of days ago I got  home from work and made the mistake of switching on the TV. Two women were playing and one of them emitted a high pitched 'BING' every time the ball made contact with her racquet. It was a proper racket, I can tell you. I don't know who she was for two reasons: 1) They all sound as if they come from the Eastern bloc and have names that seem to end in -inska; and 2) frankly I don't care.

If I'd been playing against her I'd have complained. If I'd had to watch the match I'd have been driven insane within less than 15 minutes. I think I lasted about six returns before I had to switch her off. It was awful!

Growing old gracefully

Over on Chris J's blog the subject of youth has come up, and I tried to express my feelings through a rather garbled comment. I'm not sure I was exactly clear. Since then I've just read a highly relevant news item about Sir Terry Wogan. Apparently the 73-year-old made some disparaging remarks about the Costa Concordia disaster back in January. Just nine days after the ship ran aground and at least 11 people died, Old Tel cracked a few jokes about it on his weekend radio show.

But they weren't funny. In fact the BBC has agreed that they broke broadcasting guidelines and there was a real risk of causing offence, even though Terry didn't intend to upset anyone. And that's the problem. In his day Terry Wogan was a sharp, clever and engaging broadcaster who pulled in an audience of millions every day. These days he just doesn't have the awareness or, frankly, the mental agility that he used to have.

For crying out loud Terry - quit before you do something really stupid.

Same applies to Bruce Forsyth. Sure, he can still belt out a cracking tap dance. He was an amazing hoofer in his early career and can still do some impressive steps. But he's now so lost as a presenter that he often has to be pointed at the camera by his co-host during Strictly Come Dancing.

Bruce - give up now while we can still remember you as the smart guy you were in all those 70s shows.

But let me clarify something here. I'm not saying that folk should be thrown on the scrap heap just because they reach a certain age. Far from it. Inability to present, sing, dance, entertain, inform or anything else is not related to age at all. You only have to look at Tim Lovejoy to see that. (How that man ever got a job in TV escapes me!)

There are any number of oldies around who are still doing sterling work in all kinds of fields of endeavour. But one of the things about getting older is that some of your skills start to fade. Growing old gracefully is about realising that your voice has gone (Paul McCartney) you can't remember your lines any more (William Shatner) or you've lost control of your company (Rupert Murdoch) - and retiring before it becomes an embarrassment.

More controversy

After my last anti-royal post I was going to avoid any potentially touchy subjects but something's come up today that I simply have to share. Tony Robinson - the guy who used to be Baldrick and then became a very good historian and archaeologist thanks to Time Team, appeared on the latest edition of Question Time this week and the subject of banking came up.

I implore you - go and check out his speech for yourself by clicking here and see just how strongly he feels about this. But if for some reason you don't have time, or can't reach the link, here's what he said.

In response to the question: “Is there any integrity left in British banking” he replied:

It’s almost like they’re not human isn’t it?

You look at them and you think “these people don’t live in the same world as us”.

Do you remember that before the crisis happened what they were doing was decimating the high street banks, laying off all their staff, putting us all on computers when they clearly hadn’t developed the technology.

They told us that they were doing that to make things better for us. They didn’t. They made things worse for us. It was simply in order to collect up an enormous amount of money that they could invest in the casino of international banking. And they blew it because they didn’t understand it.

And then they come back to us and say “can you bail us out now for hundreds of millions of pounds?” We give them the flipping money and they don’t lend it to us, even though they promised to do so, and they then have the gall to increase their wages by 12 per cent and give themselves bonuses and say “we’ve got to do this because if we don’t we’ll leave the country”. Aand all the time, in the background, they are committing acts that in any other business would be seen as criminal.

I remember a time when the bank manager, along with the doctor and the magistrate was the person who signed your passport, the person for whom society had an enormous amount of respect. I don’t know about you but I have no respect for British bankers and the British banking system at all. They’ve dragged us into that situation and it’s about time they started getting us out of it.

********

TONY ROBINSON FOR PRIME MINISTER! 

*************

For overseas readers (added later) ...... apologies if this doesn't mean much to you. We've just been told (after having to bail out a couple of banks last year with tax money because they'd mishandled things and were in danger of going bust) that they have been fixing interest rates to keep them artificially high. Meanwhile, various bosses have been awarding themselves very high salaries and bonuses in the milions.

Every Inchie Monday: Border

Shows how bad I was feeling last week. I genuinely got the topic wrong.  Still, I figured I'd leave this as it was posted.  Then add a little bit of extra information later.

Growing up in the north of England means that "border" always brings the idea of Scotland to my mind. Given the current discussions on both sides of Hadrian's Wall about whether Scotland should be independent, this seems fitting. The wall is stylised across the middle, and the two countries are represented by a totally imaginary tartan and a Tudor rose.
This is not the best work I've ever done. You know I've been feeling off colour this week. I might give this another go when I'm feeling better.

So I had another go. This is much better, I think.