What A Shower !

Musically speaking, I was a child of the 60's and early 70's and as my little brain was at its peak then, I can happily sing songs from those years and somehow still know all the words.

From 18 onwards, my memory has gone downhill and I blame my love of all things NASA for this as the facts they churned out totally filled up my cranial hard drive. For example I can still tell you the weight of a fully fueled Saturn V rocket (with Apollo capsule on top.....6.5 million pounds) but I'm hard pushed to remember the name of our prime minister....or is it ministers ?!

So I pride myself as a bit of a geek regarding the music of the 60's and early 70's and would wipe the floor with anyone in a quiz about those years. However now and again a song comes along that, although I know the tune, I'm at a loss to remember the group wot sung it and an example of this came along this morning....while I was in the shower, as it happens.

I only listen to the radio when I'm showering as I'm a tv man the rest of the time. Even in the car I now watch tv (thanks to my wonderful HTC phone app) and I can tell you it really makes the miles fly by when you can watch a good movie as you weave in and out of traffic on the motorway. It's probably not legal but how else am I supposed to keep up with Coronation Street, for goodness sake ?!

Anyway back to this morning and there I was trying to stuff my flowing locks into a shower cap when this song came on that took me back 34 years, seeing as that's when it was released, reaching the dizzy heights of No.14 in the UK charts. Despite having literally thousand of songs from that period on my external hard drive, this one somehow missed my pirating skills and as I lathered my wet, virile six pack (steady ladies....and men !!) without once dropping the bar of soap, I briefly racked my brain for the group name.

It just wouldn't come to me. You know how sometimes an answer is just out of reach or on the tip of your tongue ? Well this was the opposite. I knew I'd never get it as I hadn't a clue and in a way this was a good thing as it meant I could relax and enjoy the song.

Ohhh those lyrics and the fact that a lot of them were spoken in the song and not sung. The expression 'they don't write lyrics like that anymore' was made for this song and if you don't believe me, have a read...........

Little does she know that I know that she knows
That I know she's two-timin' me.
Little does she know that I know that she knows
That I know she's cheatin' on me.

I was outside the one stop
When I saw her in the corner
And I didn't like what I see.

Little does she know that I know that she knows
That I know she's two-timin' me.

She was sharing her spin dryer with a guy in a tie-dye
When she saw my reflection in the chrome.
I knew that she'd seen me 'cause she dropped her bikini
The one that I got her in Rome.

Little does she know that I know that she knows
That I know she's two-timin' me.
Little does she know that I know that she knows
That I know she's cheatin' on me.

When she finished her laundry she was all in a quandary
And made it for the street like a hare.
Her escape was so urgent, she forgot her detergent
And dropped all her clean underwear.

Little does she know that I know that she knows
That I know she's cheatin' on me.


No weed smoking lyrics there then ! Hell no.

This was the 70's and lyrics had moved on from the flower power, love-in, hippy dippy nonsense of the 60's. Now we had hard, biting, satirical lyrics which wanted to distance themselves from the previous decade and make a stand.

Yes I know. Somehow this one slipped through the net. These were certainly lyrics worthy of the 60's but despite that, or maybe because of it, I love this damn song. I love over production and this song was definitely over produced. Think Phil Spector and his wall of sound in the days before they became the walls of a prison cell ! Think of every song by The Ronettes or The Wombles. (sorry US readers you'll need to Google that last one).

Mentioning The Wombles is quite appropriate actually as the song I'm talking about was produced by the very same man who brought us those furry bodied, litter pickers from SW19....Mike Batt. The one and only.

And if the lyrics didn't give you enough clues about the name of the song, it's Little Does She Know but although you may recognise the song and even be able to sing along with it, do you know the group name ?

In the days before t'interclacker I could have set this as a quiz question - although I'd not have been able to write this blog so you'd have got the question by telegram or pigeon post or something. Now there is no point as you'd all just cheat and look it up.

The group name ? The Kursaal Flyers.

Don't anyone DARE say they knew that !! Liars, the lot of you.

Anyway, without further ado, here they are on Top Of The Pops and if you really want more info, there is also a web site. God help us.

So watch the video and try and ignore more classic examples of British orthodontic and tonsorial failures. As well as listening to the lyrics, listen to the over production especially towards the end, when apparently an army marksman with a rifle was used to add a bit of 1812 overture sound to the recording.

I have a few suggestions where the rifle should've been pointing.

European Trip Day 1 - Leeds to Bruges

Yes I know, here we go again....another holiday blog series. I know I've not finished the Italy one but if I don't get this latest one down on 'paper' so to speak, my few memories of it will go the way of a politician's promises.

I need to make one point first; I used 3 cameras on this trip (a Canon Dslr, a Nikon compact and my HTC Desire phone camera) so any photos on these trip blogs will be a mixture - the phone ones will stand out as they have a date stamp on them.

So with that in mind, sit back with a cool drink and lets go.......

7am on Wednesday 4th August 2010 and the intrepid trio (Daphne, Stephen and my good self) set off from Leeds for the 280 mile drive to the southern English ferry port of Dover. We stopped at Leicester Forest East (100 miles) for a break and a quick snack as I for one had only had a cup of tea before we set off.

We arrived in Dover after no real traffic issues and with time to spare for the 2pm crossing. We were going with Norfolkline and we had no problems finding our way to their terminal.



Once we were in the line to board, Stephen had time to attach the car lights deflectors to comply with regulations for driving a British car on the Continent. Without them, we'd blind oncoming drivers with our main beams as, of course, they drive on the wrong side of the road over there. Pah !!


It was a dull old day so not great for photography and once on the open sea, there wasn't much to photograph anyway. For the world's busiest shipping lane, The Channel seemed remarkably empty to me !

We did have one hitch hiker though as this one footed seagull stayed with us the whole way across and given the blustery winds, I don't blame him for letting the ferry take the strain. We christened him 'Stumpy' of course but I wonder how he lost his foot ? Suggestions in the comments section please.

Crossing The Channel only took 2 hrs but due to crossing a time zone, we had to put our watches forward an hour........and so it was 5:15pm before we reached Dunkirk. Then we were off and on the road to Belgium in double quick time as there were no customs or border controls at all. I'd only ever flown to Paris before and so this was my first time in the French countryside and how lovely it was. I didn't have long to enjoy it as after 20 miles, we were in Belgium ! I totally missed the sign saying "Belgie" and so never knew I was in Belgium for some miles.

It was less than 60 miles from Dunkirk to Bruges and so we arrived at our b&b around 6:15pm and I'd picked it mostly because it was in the town centre and had off road parking. The plan was to park the car and not use it again till we left.



It was a picture postcard sort of place and although fairly basic, our host, Stefaan, was kindness and helpfulness personified. Once we'd dumped our cases in the room, we were off and walking the short distance into the centre of Bruges and despite the overcast skies and occasional light rain showers, what a wonderful place it was. Everything I'd hoped for and more. It's probably the best preserved medieval town in Europe and it's so charming that you sometimes think you're in a Disneyesque location as opposed to a real life town.

From the cobbled streets to the high rise colourful houses, from the picturesque canals to the delightful goods in the shops, Bruges enchanted me from the start. It seemed that every other shop sold chocolates and as I've already courted controversy in my previous post with my photos of those 'anatomically correct chocolate shapes' I'll say no more about chocolate !





By now we were hungry again so we found a little restaurant and Daphne chose the local favourite, mussels and chips (fries to my US readers) and what a lot she got !



As you can see from the menu, it wasn't hard to order food in Bruges as it was very much geared up for us Brits who pop over on day trips in our thousands thanks to that short ferry crossing. In both Belgium and The Netherlands we found menus were usually in different languages with English being second favourite after the local one. This suited me as like most Brits, I've been very lazy learning a foreign language although I could just about get by with my school French.

After the meal we walked to the town's main square, the Markt. On one side is the Belfort, the belfry of Bruges, built in 1240. The 83 metre tower was heavily featured in the 2008 movie, In Bruges, starring Colin Farrell, Ralph Fiennes and Brendan Gleesson.

Excellent movie btw.

Being late and wet, we decided not to go up the tower that night. Of course being closed was a better reason. So more of that next time.

By now we were flagging and after a scenic walk back to the b&b, we called it a day, or a night, and went to bed.

The trip was off and running and what a start we'd had. Belgium and its inhabitants may be generally regarded as getting nil points in the excitement stakes but even on a dull, overcast and wet evening in early August, Bruges got a full douze from me.

Far From The Madding Crowd

Sometimes I take a bit of time to think of a decent title for these blog posts but this one came to me as soon as the page came up. I know it's down to the one huge difference between my recent experiences in France and then returning yesterday to England........the land of madding crowds.

And their cars.

Yes after 17 days, 3 countries, 2680 miles, 8 bed and breakfasts, 2054 photos, 102 video clips, 2 boat trips and 214 comfort breaks, we got back to England yesterday at 1:30pm and by 2pm, boy, did we know it. Straight into a traffic jam for miles on the M20 from Dover and then a long long queue for the Dartford tunnel followed by more jams on the M25 and M1 and finally home to Leeds by 10:30pm.

9 hours to travel 289 miles !!

We have simply too small a country for so many cars and it's got to be the main complaint made by tourists as it ruins driving here. We obviously need to follow the example of Dubai and increase our land mass to provide more roads for the cars we seemingly can't do without. We could take land from Scotland - actually as it's there already, we could just rename Scotland as North England and move everything up a bit. Leeds would be in the Midlands and Oxford would be our new capital city. London could then be cut free and left as a huge island car park between this New England and France.

I like it. As Jean Luc would say...make it so.

A close second in the list of complaints for foreign drivers (and us too by the way) would be the food at our motorway services. It says it all that most now sport a fast food outlet (McD's, Burger King, KFC etc) but at least you know what to expect from them and sad to say, they've probably upped the quality of food at our motorway rest areas.

We stopped at the Toddington services on the M1 run by Moto. I'm being specific here as I'd advise anyone thinking of stopping there to avoid it or at least, eat at the Burger King if you do stop - as their food is usually edible at least. And their staff probably speak English too which helps !

Anyhoo, with so many photos and stories to share about our travels in the strange lands of Johnny Foreigner, I feel like it's a good time to return to blogging. I may well have to call upon my travelling companions to remind me about most of the stories as although I exclaimed many times "that'll make a great blog post", frequent readers will know my memory is like an English goalkeeper....it doesn't hold onto much.

Here is one to be going on with while I sort through all those photos.

We spent last Wednesday night at a French chateau, complete with huge spiral staircase and enough chandeliers to keep Del Boy in business for decades. Sadly it had seen better days and really shouldn't have been available even for b&b business but anyway, we were the only guests spending that night there and in the morning had breakfast in one of the huge dining rooms. As a result, I was able to do something I'd always wanted to do.......eat my meal at the far end of a long table with my companions at the other end.

Daphne took this photo and I've had to 'up' the brightness using Photoshop so you can see me as the camera flash wasn't powerful enough to light me up at the far end of the room !!


Another sign that the lady of the house wasn't really clued in to b&b services, when Stephen asked for hot chocolate (as he had all trip and had always been presented with a lovely mug of hot chocolate), she placed that box of 'Super Quick' chocolate powder on the table and told him he could use the nearby microwave to heat up the milk for it !

Well what can you expect from French aristocracy ? Off with their heads and then let them try and eat cake, I say.

Fear not as subsequent posts will be in trip order (Bruges up first) and yes, I know I STILL have to finish up posts about our Italian trip last summer.

I feel the stress levels rising again. I bet Alan Whicker never had these problems !!

Travel Broadens The Mind

Visiting Belgium and The Netherlands for the first time has given me so much material to talk about that I'm feeling refreshed about blogging - and so this little gem of literary excellence (well, if I can't lie from the get go, what use is a blog !!??) will be starting up again when I return to the UK.

Right now I'm in Amsterdam for a few days and then off down to tour a bit of France.

So watch this space and in the meantime, here is something that I think sets the tone and shows what those fun loving Belgians can do with a bit of chocolate (ok a LOT of chocolate) and a fertile imagination.

In a warm climate, I think getting one of these for a present, would be best summed up by the expressions "well it was fun while it lasted" or "one size fits all" !!

I'm sure you will have your own thoughts on the subject so comment away. Hey, don't blame me. I'm just the one who instructs and educates.


Go on admit it, you've missed me in your lives !

My Blogging Days Are Over.

Right now I've lost all enthusiasm for blogging so will take a break for as long as it takes to come back, if it ever does.

No doubt if something annoys me enough to get me up onto my soapbox, or if I lose the fight to become the new Governor of California, I'll be back.

Bye for now.

ET Phone Home - Your Dinner's In The Oven.

I have to admit I'm a novice at this mobile phone malarky and although I did get one a few years ago, it was just because my US friends were over here and I didn't want to be stuck in the Highlands of Scotland with a flat tyre. S'all very well being in the AA but if you're 50 miles from the nearest croft, then that's not much use.

Of course, knowing little about such things, it never entered my head that signal strength deep in the Highlands of Scotland might be a few bars short of an open prison.

No bars in the Highlands ? Surely not !!

Anyway my mobile was as basic a phone as you could get....a Nokia 1100 on a PAYG plan.

Yes it's a beauty, isn't it ? With phone in hand, I could....ah.....ermm.......make a phone call. Oh and it had a light on the top so it could be used as a torch. Very useful at night when you needed to use it to find a proper phone.

But it was fine for me. I only wanted it for car emergencies or if I had need of a dog whisperer when out walking near the local RSPCA shelter. I put £5 on it when I bought it a few years ago and when I bought a new phone recently, there was still some credit to carry across !

Let's just say I didn't use it much.

Fast forward to the 21st century and a few weeks ago I went from one extreme to another and got a HTC Desire, which many reviews said was better than the iphone.

I blogged about it at the time but now that I've got to 'know it' a bit better, well to call it a phone, even a Smartphone, is doing it a huge disservice.

I may be lucky to have entered this market at a time when these things can do everything except cook me a full English, but the Desire's capability as a phone is its least impressive feature.

It has GPS so although there will probably still not be a signal if my car gets a flat tyre in the Highlands of Scotland. at least I'll know exactly where I am - just next to shit creek according to the detailed and colourful GPS map.

It has a voice activated search application so that I can find the nearest AA centre in the event that my arms have been tied behind my back by woad painted clansmen on a day trip from the city.

It can play mp3s and pick up radio and tv stations so I won't get bored waiting for that little yellow van to appear.

It has a photo scanner application so I can point the phone at any object and it'll give me all the info I need about it. So I can point it at the flat tyre, have the image scanned and it'll tell me.....that it's buggered.

It has a tracking application so anyone following my route live on their computers will see that my car hasn't moved for 10 hrs and they'll know I've broken down....or that my phone has been stolen by a Highland tortoise and it's rushing off to phone a friend.

It has a voice diary application so as the days go by without a sign of the AA van, I can record my dying thoughts and thus inform whoever finds my rotting corpse that I'll be due a refund from Orange for the rest of my calling plan.

It has a 'places directory' application so I can locate the nearest chippy doing a haggis and Scotch egg takeaway service so that I can have a snack while waiting for that bloody AA van.

And according to the user guide, which of course I have to access online, it also works as a phone. How awesome is that ? Hard to believe but by pressing a series of numbers, I can actually talk with someone who also has a phone. I mean I could just PHONE the AA but why do that when I have all those applications at my disposal ??

Oh yes, does it have a torch application ? Well I donno but if nothing else, I could walk along taking flash photos to light my way because, oh yes, it's a freakin' camera too !!

I know. Unbelievable, isn't it ?

I'm still learning stuff and I'm still pretty much a mobile phone novice so I'm going to look through the user manual once again as I'm sure if it can give me a live feed from my friends travelling down I-75 in Michigan, then it can rustle up a decent English for me.

On today of all days, it should 'do it for your daddy' !!!

Susan Boyle - I Need Your Help !

With an early morning visit of someone from St. Kitts and Nevis, my blog has had visitors from 99 different countries. Bless you all but now I have a grovelling request to make because as any professional cricketer will tell you, being on 99 is torture. Like them, I want a century...and more. As there are about 195 countries in the world, depending on who you ask, then there are plenty more who could be visiting my blog if only they knew about it !

So if anyone has an internet friend who lives on some relatively obscure Pacific Island (Wallis and Futuna would be a good one) or even Iceland (they sent me their ash so it's only right that they should visit my blog) then could they please email them my site and just ask them to stop by.

As the title of this post suggests, I could simply mention Susan Boyle again but based on past posts, that would just get me loads of visitors from America and Japan who seem to have a permanent global search going on for any mention of her name on the internet and anyway, I don't think her cd has made it to Wallis and Futuna. I'm not even sure electricity has made it there but you never know.

So come on, my kind readers. Yes, both of you. Scan your email contact lists and find someone not on this list as you just know I'll be sitting here waiting to get my century.

Put me out of my misery.

(This post has been approved by the tourist board for Wallis and Futuna and the agent for Susan Boyle).

The Horn Of Africa

When I were a lad and still able to take in data and retain it (age 13-16), the horn of Africa meant that part of East Africa made up of Ethopia, Somalia, Eritrea and as we all know, Djibouti.

Who said Djibouti was a song from Family Guy ? Peasants !

Anyway I think some of you might know where I'm going with this. Yes the World Cup !

The South African 'vuvuzela' is a metre long horn which is causing a lot of discussion around the world and somewhat distracting from the event itself. Opinions are as varied as the nations taking part but you either love them or hate them and as someone who is firmly in the later camp, I just want to shove them up.....will somewhere painful anyway.

Those who are in favour of them use words like 'traditional' and 'cultural' to make their case and say that as South Africa 'won' the right to stage the competition, we should respect how their people celebrate it.

Well for one thing, this plastic horn only appeared in 2001 so is hardly traditional. Yes a metal version was mentioned a few times going back a few years earlier but that's it.....it's not some tribal instrument used over the centuries.

Then just because a nation gets the right to stage a competition doesn't mean it has a right to annoy visiting nations and those who watch at home. The point is, South Africa DOES have a wonderful tradition of singing, chanting and dancing and no one would mind seeing and hearing some of that. The monotonous vuvuzela is NOT traditional, is very annoying to listen to even via tv and I can't imagine what it must be like sitting or standing in front of someone blowing one for 90 minutes. The spit coming out of it must be a health and safety issue alone, never mind the ear splitting decibels.

Anyway as with a lot of things, those who like them won't be swayed by those who don't and vice versa so I'm trying not to enter into 'discussions' on Twitter or Facebook etc.

I'll just continue to watch the games with the audio muted and Kenny G on the cd player.

Ok not doing my case much good there I guess !

I've Gone Power Mad

Yesterday I received an energy monitor from my electric company, Npower. I'd ordered it online about 6 weeks ago and had actually forgotten all about it. But it was free so I could hardly complain.

When I checked the cables coming out of my electricity meter, I didn't think I could fit the transmitter unit because nothing is ever standard in this house. The instruction booklet said I should have a meter with 4 or 5 cables going into/out of it....I had 6.....and I needed to connect the transmitter unit to the one going to the fuse box. I had 2 going to my fuse box but then again, my fuse box is like no other fuse box you've ever seen.

The instructions also said, in bold type, that I must not pull on any cable when trying to attach the transmitter and hammering a nail into the cable to hold the transmitter in place was not recommended either. A positive no-no in fact (little electrical joke there).

So with my hammer and drill nowhere to be seen, I made my attempt this morning. I looked at the 6 cables and wondered which to try. Well the two on the far left were taped together and the booklet said to ignore them. Then there was one much thinner cable that ran from one meter to another - why I have the 2nd meter is one of the many mysteries in this house. It's a large black unit and looks like it was installed in Victorian times which is a bit bizarre as this house dates from the 1960's.

That left 3 cables and I decided to just make use of the most helpful bit of info in the booklet - that the cable I wanted should be the one on the far right. With a confidence based only on desperation, I attached the transmitter to this cable and connected it to the battery pack. I went into the kitchen where I'd set up the display unit and wooohoooo.......it was working.

The usage display is designed to resemble a car speedometer and mine was barely moving. As I had only just got up and had little or nothing running, I was happy to see that.


A few entertainment units were on standby and so the speedo WAS moving but not much. I picked up the 3 remotes and went into action. Powering on the cable box wasn't too bad. Barely a movement on the speedo. Then the surround sound amp...a bit more movement. Finally the tv.

Bloody hell.

Speedo wise I'd left a built up area and was now belting along an urban dual carriageway. Time to start up the big guns. I flicked on the coffee maker.

OMG

Now I was barely able to stay under the speed limit on a motorway. Time for the final test. Yes the booster on the water heater.

WARP FACTOR 9.1 CAPTAIN. THE ENGINES CANNA TAKE IT.

Once I'd entered the cost of a kilowatt of electricity and could then see the pennies flying out of my wallet in real time, I went around the house like a man possessed turning off lights and unplugging devices.

I probably don't need the electric blanket to be ticking over all day. The electric toothbrush doesn't need to be charging all the time. The life sized statue of Billy Bremner in the front garden doesn't need to be lit during the day.

By the way, the speedo went down quite a bit once the coffee had brewed but it went up a little when I altered the tv brightness ! Sadly it has no effect at all if I mute the sound so I'll just have to continue to listen to ITV's coverage of the World Cup. That sucks.

Seriously though, just as the trip computer in my car has changed the way I drive (watching the mpg in real time does this to me), then this energy monitor will certainly affect what units I'm happy to leave on or in standby mode 24/7.

Scrooge as I am, I suspect not many.

Tales From A Country Graveyard.

A week ago today, we were on our way to South Wales for a 3 day trip which included a visit to Swansea Theatre to see a friend in the title role of Piaf in a play of the same name.

Once settled in our rooms in the North Gower Hotel in the village of Llanrhidian, Daphne and I went for a short walk before supper and not knowing the local area at all, we just went wherever the road took us. After a walk down the very steep Mill Lane, we came to the wonderfully named St. Rhidian and St. llltyd Church which was founded by St. Rhidian in the 6th century.

So it was pretty old !

Sadly the church was locked and as we didn't then know we could've borrowed the keys from the petrol station at the top of the road, we spent some time walking around the graveyard which had many really old and interesting graves and headstones with several containing several generations of families.

On the side of the church, just to the right of the door porch, we found a few headstones that had presumably been removed from their graves at some point in time and fastened to the outer wall, held in place by suitably rusting hooks. The largest of these headstones was very easy to read, in the sense that the actual words were so clear that they could've been etched within the last few years. For this reason alone I'm not sure how original this stone was and the fact that the wording was a strange mix of modern and peculiar olde English is a puzzle too. Anyway it claimed that the body it represented was one Robert Harry, who died on the 21st of September 1646 at the very old age (for the time) of 65. These details were etched around the sides so you may have to move the photo, or your head, around to read them.

You'll get into the swing of the 'poem' if you work out that it starts with.....here lyeth my lifeless corpse relieved of living breath.......and you can take it from there. Click to enlarge.


Ok for those who can't make it out, the wording around the border of the stone reads.....

Here lieth the body of Robert Harry who deceased the xxi day of September aged 65 anno Domini 1646 who maried two wives and had issve by them x children.

......and the rest of the wording is as follows.......

Here lyeth my lifeles corps bereved of liveinge breath

Not slaine by sinne which is the cavse of death

But my decree which God hath said all men shall dy

And come to ivdgement to know how they shall try

And now o heavenly God that liveing breath thov gavest to mee

That mortall life and sovle I yeeld and give againe to thee

My corps to earth for short time I doe give

My sovle vnto my saviovr Christ eternally to live

I'm not sure why it's 'liveinge breath' at the start and then 'liveing breath' further along which only adds to my feeling that this was a relatively modern etching and whoever did it just made a mistake that someone from 1646 would never have made.

Don't you just love a good mystery ?? Verily.

Italy Day 11 - 6th September 2009.

As promised yesterday, I'm going to finally catch up with posts about our Italian trip last year and the Caribbean cruise earlier this year as there are a few UK trips to mention as well and it's all getting a bit silly now. If I don't get a move on, by the time I get them finished, readers will need a degree in archaeology to make sense of them.

Anyway back to Italy and we're on to Day 11 so in the final stretch. That morning we left the stunning scenery of Lake Como and set off on the 200 mile drive across to Venice. The route took us past Milan and on to Brescia, Verona and Vicenza before pulling into Venice just after 1pm.

Well when I say Venice, I really mean Mestre which is where we parked the car and switched to the train that runs out along the causeway to Venice.

We'd been told that Venice might be a bit 'busier' than usual as two important festivals were taking place on that day.....the Venice Film Festival and the Regata Storica. Busier turned out to be a gross understatement.

The main event, as far as visitor numbers was concerned, was the Regata Storica which is a huge parade of boats and boat racing that they claim has gone on for thousands of years but I suspect they mean hundreds.

In any case the place was rocking and not just because Venice is slowly sinking into the water. It was packed.

The crowds meant that my memories of Venice aren't all that positive. It was almost impossible to see much of the Grand Canal and so we took the opportunity to explore the back streets of the city although streets may not be the correct term.

Venice truly is a unique place. Many other cities may claim to have Little Venice areas where modern, expensive boats can cruise along waterways to lakes or even the ocean but Venice is the real deal. For that reason alone it's worth a visit but I wouldn't go much out of my way to return.

These were the first few photos taken after we exited from the railways station and I have to admit that the first view you get from the top of the station steps takes your breath away. It's just SO different from anything you'll have seen before and in our case, it was made even more unreal as a water ambulance went speeding past us with lights flashing and siren blaring. It almost took out a few gondolas with its wake but the gondoliers are nothing if not expert in both keeping their balance and keeping their passengers within the boat. Welcome to Venice !

These next photos show how the crowds along the Grand Canal made sightseeing almost impossible and even trying to get along the canal to find some quieter areas took forever.

Once away from the Grand Canal, things got much better and we could enjoy the narrow streets and other canals. I loved seeing all the shop windows that had masks for sale and they came in all shapes and sizes, colours and styles. There were lots of lovely quiet piazzas and even totally empty areas as, by now, most of the tourists were watching the regatta.

Usually 'streets' had no walkways at all and so boats were the only way to get around and it was cool to see commercial vessels plying their trade alongside the tourist laden gondolas.

Finally we arrived at the crown jewel of Venice, St. Mark's Square and it was strange to be glancing around at buildings so familiar from tv and movies. Again it was relatively quiet here and as the birds outnumbered the tourists, it was like walking onto the set of Hitchcock's The Birds as they were everywhere, looking for handouts, literally.

Views of the square and surrounding area leading to the Grand Canal were slightly disappointing as the buildings were often covered with huge advertising signs. However it was awesome to get to see the Doge's Palace and, of course, St. Mark's imposing bell tower which then led us out to the open area by the canal.

Here is one of those panorama sites which shows St. Mark's Square and the Doge's Palace better than any photos I took.

After finally being able to take in the views across the Grand Canal, we headed back along the busy waterways and narrow streets towards the railway station for the short train trip to Mestre and the rental car.


We'd only spent about 6 hours in Venice but with the crowds there that day, it was long enough. It had been a long day since leaving Como and we wanted a hotel not far "down the road" and so we stopped at the Hotel DaVito just 10 miles south of the city.

So....Venice; well it was fantastic to see and experience parts of this unique water city. Would I want to go again ? Maybe. But certainly NOT during a festival !

And thanks to Daphne and Stephen for the use of some of their photos.

A Taste Of Wales

Daphne and I went to South Wales last week and I'm still sorting through the hundreds of photos from there. Add to that, ones from other trips going back to Italy last summer and often the idea of blogging about them and the trips they came from seems daunting. Remember the cruise a few months ago ?

Yep, still got to finish blogging about that little trip.

Anyway all in good time I guess but that's partly why I've not blogged for a while.

So here is a photo from the Wales trip for now and as Mr. Swartzin......Swartzonigg.....oh sod it, Arnie would say.......I'll be back.

Normal Service Will Be Resumed........

Wow that phrase takes me back. In the early days of British television (well in our house anyway), the already flickering picture would often go a bit wonky and then go altogether. If the boffins (early geeks) at the BBC were on the ball, you'd get a little message like the one above, apologising for the lack of Bill & Ben or Jackanory and then you'd get a bit of music for a while and then when someone found a shilling for the meter, the picture would return.

Hurrah for technology.

Of course back then, tv would end at 10pm as there was nothing more to broadcast. There was no more news anywhere around The Empire, and the cricket had ended hours ago so that was the sport done with. So a young black and white Queen Liz would come on and sing the National Anthem which usually made her giggle at the start when she blessed herself. Then a man would remind us to turn off our tv sets so that Telstar could recharge it's batteries up in orbit overhead.

I know, it's all rubbish but hey, I've not blogged for ages so I'm just full of it.

Just over 2 weeks ago my sickly laptop give up the ghost and needed emergency surgery. This involved backing up as much as possible, replacing the hard drive and reloading Vista, lots of Sony drivers and finally as much of the backed up data as possible. Yesterday Daphne's wonderful hubby, Stephen, finished the job and lappy was handed back me as good as new. Better even as a lot of pre-installed rubbish wasn't. Installed that is. And I've got Vista Ultimate which is Vista with go faster stripes.

So for the rest of yesterday I again downloaded and installed all the free software that makes my life on the internet so much better....Skype, Trillian, utorrent, Digiguide (ok not free but I was already a subscriber) and so on. Then I set everything up as I wanted it, including my email alert wav. I've picked Mail6.wav although for some reason it chops off the end on this site.

So basically I'M BACK......although I'm off again right away as I'm heading to deepest, darkest S. Wales in the morning for a wee 3 day trip to Swansea and places nearby. While I was lappyless, I joined the 21st century and by agreeing to hand over the bulk of my pension every month for the next 2 years, I signed a contract for a new phone. A smartphone no less. Smarter than me as I haven't worked out how to make a bloody phone call yet ! There is no button B and I still can't find an application to send telegrams so it's not THAT smart. Anyway I can now be in touch ''on the road'' so expect lots of Facebook photos and Tweets with annoying regularity from now on.

You have been warned.

Prynhawn da !

A Brief Passage Of Time

If a picture's worth a thousand words, then this will save me a shitload of typing. Which has to be good for you as well as me !!

Be warned - there is a short, but quite loud advert at the start and then no sound until close to the end so I'd recommend you lower your volume slightly before continuing.

And now, enjoy the magic.

Eee By Gum, I'm Still On T'internet

My laptop is not well. In fact it may have a terminal condition.

Little geek joke there.

I don't think it liked being put to sleep just before my flight back to the UK a few weeks ago but I was so excited to have a free wi-fi connection at Orlando airport that I kept using it until my row of seats was called for boarding. With no time to do a proper shut down, I just shut the lid and that dropped it into sleep mode for the rest of the trip home.

It was a particularly rough flight as we took off into a severe thunderstorm but although I doubt that had any effect on it, the laptop was never the same once I got it home. I was able to back up my photos and videos and other important stuff but finally a few days ago, it wouldn't even power up into Windows.

Yesterday I took it to Stephen, Daphne's hubby, who is a bit of a wiz with computers and all things with a plug and he has already managed to backup the entire hard drive using a disc based version of Ubuntu as the operating system and so if he can get no further, I'm happy for him to try and do a 'restore to factory settings' recovery.

So until then, or until I have to buy a new laptop, I'm very grateful to have the loan of this Asus Eee from Daphne to help me have at least a small window into the internet. A small window is never as good as a Vista, but it's better than having no view at all.

Another little geek joke there.


For those who have never seen an Eee, I've added a biro to the photo for scale but when you realise that the closed unit is as wide as my outstretched hand, then you'll see why it's not an easy task to write a blog post........so there may not be many for the next few days.

So with a huge thanks to both Stephen and Daphne, I'll leave the story here. I dare not put this Eee down in case I can't find it again and it's just so damn cute that I may find it hard to give back.

Daphne, you have been warned.

Football : It's A Funny Old Game

It's a sunny May day and in the world of British football, it's FA Cup Finals day.....one in Scotland that only viewers of Sky Sports 1 know about and the important one in England, being contested right now by Chelsea and Portsmouth.

So an all 'southern' Cup Final then and that's just not right. Most footy fans would want a good old North/South game as there is always a bit of needle in such contests even before the ball is kicked in anger.

Back when I were a lad and football was played in black and white, at least on our telle, the build up to the FA Cup Final started at about 11am. Thankfully, despite the game now being played for the benefit of the tv companies and their advertisers, it tends to start at a more reasonable 1pm, two hours before kickoff.

But it's a sad sign of the times when the build up is not so much about the games played by the players ON the pitch but by the games played by a few of them OFF the pitch. The term WAG (Wives And Girlfriends) came about several years ago when cable television took off and the amount of money that was paid to televise live games went from a few £million to a few £billion and almost overnight, footballers became celebrities based on their income and subsequent socialising more than their ability, although the two sometimes went together.

Back then, those who played on the field earned the money that was spent, often very publicly, by their partners who enjoyed playing off the pitch, by shopping, partying and generally appearing in any glossy magazine with a photographer on its books and every tabloid that didn't.

With their lives in the spotlight more than ever, it was only a matter of time before sordid stories of marital infidelity came out and as is the way these days, such stories generate more interest than the goings on during a game. The best one was when a high profile married player, captain of Chelsea and England, was found to be having a bit of extra practice with the girlfriend of another player, a player who had been his team mate a few months earlier. This particular soap opera was enriched by follow up stories of the girlfriend getting pregnant, having an abortion and lover boy trying to seek an injunction to have it all hushed up.

And we thought the football bad boys had all 'died out' in the 70's. It would be tempting to think that we have a different type of bad boy now, but I'm sure it's been going on for decades. It's only since becoming instant celebrities with their £170,000 a week salaries that their every move, on and off the pitch, is scrutinised, often in super slow motion !

Back in those black and white days, players didn't earn much more than the fans on the terraces who supported them. They kicked a heavy leather ball around a pitch that often resembled a muddy field and went home to fish and chips on a good day. Now they kick a ball that is so light that it moves several times in the air and play on pitches that resemble a deep pile living room carpet. After a game they dine out at fancy restaurants and settle a bill that would be the monthly salary for a stockbroker.

Their lives are as far removed from the fans on the terraces as those of Hollywood movie stars and I wonder if their private lives are heading that way too. If today's pre match build up on telle was to include such affairs, literally, then I think we'd be back to the show starting at 11am, on Friday !

But it's still our national game and has never been more popular. Thanks to safety regulations and many more games being televised live, we'll never see actual attendances like those in the early days but it doesn't matter anymore. The money raised by ticket sales are a drop in the ocean compared to television rights, advertising and other commercial ventures. It also helps if the club owner is as rich as Croesus of course.

Last year Manchester United sold Cristiano Ronaldo to Real Madrid in a deal worth £80m, the current world record for a football transfer. Were Real Madrid mad ? Many thought so at the time.

Ronaldo has played 34 games since then for Real Madrid and although he has scored 33 goals, the even more staggering statistic is that in this first season, Real have already recouped the transfer fee in Ronaldo shirt sales alone ! Who is mad now ?

So as long as football itself is supported like this by the fans, it will continue to flourish. A match day ticket for a high level Premiership game may be out of the reach of most working fans but television coverage will continue to bring it to them in their armchairs and down at the local pub, as it will with games from the FIFA World Cup which starts in just under 4 weeks time in South Africa.

I can't wait.

The FA Cup Final has just finished with the victory going to Chelsea, who only managed to score once.

Unlike their captain.

The Dunkerque Spirit

The Italian Bunch (Daphne, Stephen and myself) had so much fun touring parts of Northern Italy together last summer that we planned on 'doing' Ireland this summer. I was excited to show my friends around my home country, N. Ireland, but it struck me last night that I just wasn't getting a 'buzz' about touring the South.

I looked at other options and felt I wanted to go the other way and cross over to The Continent again as I've never visited 99% of it. I've been to parts of France, Spain, Austria, Germany, Holland and, of course Italy, but that only amounts to the remaining 1%.

I talked it over with Daphne and she was enthusiastic about the change of plans as she really only wanted to see N. Ireland too and we can all possibly go there on a long weekend sometime, probably not this year though.

So where do we go ? Right now we've no idea !

I've looked at channel ferry crossings in early August and we'll most likely take the Dover to Dunkerque route but then where ? Well it's less than an hours drive to the beautiful Belgian town of Bruges (Brugge), with a centre that is a World Heritage Site and I've always wanted to go there. That's a good start.

Less than 3hrs drive north from Bruges and you are in Amsterdam, capital of The Netherlands and the home town of Daphne's brother, Michael, and his family. If that's not a good enough reason for a visit, then I want to see its famous canals and even its numerous cannabis coffee houses so that I can say I left Amsterdam on a high !

After that, I think we're open to any suggestions and will most likely head due south to spend the bulk of the trip (2 weeks +) touring around the (hopefully) beautiful French countryside as if it's one feature of the Italian trip that we loved more than anything else, it was the stunning Tuscan countryside. I'm sure France can deliver too.

So as I know I get occasional readers from France and also readers who have toured France, I'd be really pleased to receive any advice about places to visit and also about scenic drives. Of course I can put my surfing skills to good use over the next couple of months as once the ferry crossings have been booked, there is nothing else to do but create a touring route.

I'm happy to report that the 'buzz' has returned.

All Quiet On The Western Front

I'm not really an 'on this day in history' sort of guy as I like to live in 'the now' and after all, what's been, has been. And also que sera, sera, if you believe Doris Day.

But many historical events are well worth remembering ( mainly so they have enough questions to create a decent history exam at school ) and one today struck me with a bit more force than usual - maybe because I'd been hearing a lot in the run up to our General Election last Thursday about making use of our right to vote.

As it was going to be a close election, everyone seemed to be telling us to use our vote. We were constantly reminded that people struggled for years to get us the vote and in the case of voting for women, that right cost lives as well. So perhaps the whole notion of what we owe previous generations was more in my mind today than usual.

Anyway the point of all this setup waffle is that on May 10th 1941, the most devastating bombing raid of 'The Blitz' took place in London and to pull this together with the General Election, it's worth noting that the chamber of the House of Commons was destroyed. Looking at all the historic buildings in London now, it's hard to imagine any of them having survived the blitz which lasted 8 months. London was bombed for 76 consecutive nights. Can you imagine that ?

On this day back in 1941, in a raid involving 550 German bombers, over 700 tons of bombs and thousands of incendiaries were dropped on our capital city, killing about 1500 people and seriously injuring 1800. Londoners didn't know it at the time, but this was effectively the last such bombing raid and has become the official end date for the blitz. Of course a new blitz took place in 1944 when the Germans developed flying bombs (V1/V2) which caused even more terror than old fashioned bombs and killed almost 9,000 people.

Many other towns and cities in the UK were targeted too, including Leeds, although these may have been stray bombs meant for Hull (60 miles away) as Hull was the most bombed city after London. This explains why it still looks like a bomb site today ! Sorry Hull.

And here's another little interesting fact; Oxford was never bombed as Hitler wanted it as his capital city. Say what you like about him, the man had style !

Old as I am, I was born several years after the end of WWII and so I just can't imagine living through 8 months of almost constant bombing. Hell I get spooked when a firework goes off or someone pops a crisp/chip bag. Sadly, many communities around the world still have to suffer such awful events to some extent although these days, most bombs do not start their journey on board a plane but are carried inside an SUV.

So there we have it. On this day in history : the end of the blitz.

Diary Entries:

May 10th 1941. More bombs than usual. Had tea and scones in the shelter.

May 11th. 1941. Bit quiet today.

It's a Fair Cop

I lay in bed this morning thinking about Dixon of Dock Green. Slightly more worrying than thinking about kitchen utensils but let me explain.

I was really thinking about cop shows and movies and if they reflect the times or is it the other way round. I know. I really need to get out of bed once I've woken up !

My memories of most things only go back to a week last Wednesday but for some reason, I do vividly remember watching Dixon Of Dock Green when I "were a lad". I was only 3 when the series started in 1955 but even so, even at that tender age, I did think Jack Warner's character did reflect the times. He was like everyone's favourite uncle and I'm sure he wore a lovely knitted cardy under his uniform. When he politely asked a villain to stop, he'd stop and the most violence we saw was when Jack or one of his colleagues put their hand on someone's shoulder and said "you're nicked, my lad."

There were no high powered car chases (not quite the same using bicycles) and certainly no gun shooting like in just about every cop show these days. Having said that, Jack's Dixon character first appeared in a movie, "The Blue Lamp" in 1950 when stunned audiences watched as he investigated a cinema robbery and was shot and killed by a very young Dirk Bogarde. It was just so shocking for a policeman to be shot at in England at that time. It still is, to be honest.

So fresh from his death, Dixon starred in his long running series and set the standard for cop shows on this side of the pond for the next 21 years. Policemen were respected. They were trusted. And yes, they wore funny helmets. Still do.

Over the decades, the times they were a changing and although UK police shows changed and became a bit more gritty and violent, they still were very tame compared to their US counterparts. Just think of Juliet Bravo, The Bill, Z Cars and even The Sweeney in the mid 70's and none were likely to raise questions about their uber violence. I suppose Heartbeat was borderline at times (!!) but the sweet sounds of the 60's used as the musical background still took us back to Dixon and his gentler policing methods.

We don't have the tv income to splash out on flashy special effects or be able to write off loads of cars in spectacular chases so we concentrate on the plots and with the influx of US cop shows, we can be said to have the best of both worlds.

Once upon a time, America gave us Kojak and we gave them Z Cars. They gave us Miami Vice, we gave them Dempsey & Makepeace. They gave us TJ Hooker and we gave them The Thin Blue Line.

Never mind better plots, I think over the years we've had the better of the deals !

G'night all.

Teeth ? Who'd Have 'Em ?

I've just returned from an appointment with the dental hygienist and, as usual, I'm not sure why I pay a fortune to have someone inflict pain on me. I know the 'poor' girl doesn't mean to inflict pain but when you're poking and scraping teeth, you'll always inflict pain, unless you're a coroner !

It was supposed to be a double appointment as, after being abused by the hygienist, I was due to be carried kicking and screaming into the dentist's chair in a nearby office for even more poking and prodding. And maybe drilling. And certainly more criticism.

Yes it's bad enough that all this pain gets inflicted on me but then these professionals see a need to tell me it's all my fault and if I looked after my teeth better, they'd not have to hurt me !

It's like a kick in the teeth !!

Ok I'll admit I don't floss and I rarely use those little pokey things you shove between your teeth as, lets face it, they take time and effort and I just wanna brush my teeth and get out of the bathroom. So maybe they have a right to criticise my dental hygiene as, apparently, a healthy mouth helps maintain a healthy heart. This isn't a theory I entirely support but having had 2 heart attacks, I Guess I should be willing to try anything to prevent a 3rd.

Part of my problem is I quite like plaque. I mean when my teeth are all cleaned and scraped and there are nice gaps between them, that's when the food bits take up the slack. For weeks after an appointment, I have to pick enough meat from between my teeth each night to feed a small African village. Then eventually plaque fills the gaps and voila.....no room for food ! I think plaque is nature's food barrier and as such, serves a function.

I doubt that any long term study would prove my theory to be anything other than wishful thinking so I'l just have to go with the flow on this.

Anyway I got a letter on Tuesday telling me my dentist, due to unforeseen circumstances, couldn't make the appt and could I make another appt with her after my visit with the hygienist today ? Well as I really wanted both 'pain visits' out of the way one after the other, I went yesterday to try and book an appt with both again. When the receptionist started muttering about mid July, I said forget it and I'd stick with the hygienist appt today and that way she got me in with the dentist in 2 weeks time.

Never thought of hygienists as being so popular !

So a nanosecond after she poked my first tooth and caused me to put a death grip on the chair arm, she said "oh I'm sorry but your gums are very sensitive there and I'll be more gentle." MORE GENTLE ? Shouldn't that be the standard from the get go ? What's that old expression for medical people..."first cause no pain" ?? Maybe it's "first do no harm" but I prefer my version.

Then while I'm trying to do complex math in my head to help block out the pain, she starts asking about my time in America. Obviously hygienists get trained like dentists and have this bizarre notion that having the patient talking will help deaden the pain. NO IT DOESN'T !!

You end up trying to mumble answers with a VERY sharp metal bit spinning at about 20,000rpm on the back of your teeth. One false move and you could be skewered like a display butterfly. Leave me alone and let me work on my times tables.

At one point, when I was allowed to sit up and gargle, I asked her what it was like to be feared, if not worse, by everyone who came to see her ? On reflection that probably wasn't the best time to ask and I sensed I'd touched a nerve (payback's a bitch) when she roughly pushed me back onto the chair, straddled me and roared like a demented maniac as she approached my mouth with a needle sharp dental scraper.

No she didn't ! But I did ask the question and to be fair to the girl, she laughed and said it was an occupational hazard.

Finally it was time for her to say "I'll just give them a quick clean" as that signals the end to the pain. I still just wanted out of there in case she changed her mind so when she opened up her drawer of consumer products and recommended some new long handled pokey thing, she'd already lost me as a potential customer.

I said I'd think about it and was out of there faster than Will Smith at a KKK rally.

So that's it for another 6 months. I've told myself to up my dental hygiene program and as I said earlier, this wouldn't take much. I'll try this flossing malarky although I just know I'll never manage it as I've a small mouth and big fingers (stop laughing) and I'll use the pokey things, at least until I use up my supply. Then I'll just swap to a fork. Can do several at once then.

I've just had a beef curry and I can enjoy a lot of the beef again all afternoon as I now have a nice supply handily tucked in between most of my teeth.

I miss my plaque ! Nature's grout.

Kitchen Marvels.

Like Sir Walter Raleigh before me, I recently returned from 'the New World' bearing gifts. Yes, yes I know HE didn't actually bring back potatoes or tobacco but I'm sure he brought his Queen a couple of postcards and a t-shirt so go with me on this.

A couple of these gifts were mine (I don't make the rules) and they'd been given to me by Debby/Den at Christmas but not used until I got home. Both are kitchen products and one, the scrubby, I've used many times before but love having my own here and the other.......well I'll start with that one.

First a question. Why are oven mitts, mitts ? I mean seriously. Why have a large mitt as your protection for handling hot food items and containers ? I know they're ok for just removing a pan from the oven but hardly practical for more precise work....like picking out one roast potato for a trial nibble !

And so, with a suitable drum roll please, I introduce the oven glove. Brilliant. Must've taken a lot of thought to design a mitt with fingers. At least we can now stir the gravy in the scalding hot roasting dish without feeling like the elephant man brushing his hair.

But this is no simple insulated oven glove. Oh dear me no. This is........the 'Ove' Glove


I bet the PR men had a great time around the table naming this little beauty. They probably couldn't copyright the name "oven glove" and so the "Ove" Glove came into existence.

I don't care. I just know I love it. I love it so much I want to wear it outside. It would be a sort of Gordon Ramsay meets Michael Jackson sort of deal. As well as making a fashion statement, I'd be able to drag small children out of burning buildings. And yes, it's THAT good.

Why ? Well because it's 86% Nomex, which isn't a word used by immigration authorities along the Texas border but a flame resistant material developed by DuPont in the 60's and long used by fire fighters the world over. But there's more !

The other 14% isn't just some pathetic old cotton or nylon. Hell no. It's Kevlar.

KEVLAR ??? Yes the stuff used to make body armour !

So now when I'm out and about wearing my 'Ove' glove and I happen to come across an armed bank robbery, I can walk into the building without fear as with my gloved hand to protect me, I can stop a speeding bullet like that dude who always wore his underpants on the outside. Weird guy.

What bloody useful gloves and I think they should be provided to every household for free.

And look, it can even be used on either hand !! God, they've thought of everything. I even like the heightened strips which as well as giving extra grip to stop those slippery bullets or get a hot sausage out of the frying pan, are in my favourite colour....blue.

Actually come to think of it, the expression "out of the frying pan and into the fire" was made for this glove !

The second kitchen gift I brought back was handmade by a friend in sunny Buttonwood Bay and something I've used and loved for a few years. Not this particular one of course as it's brand new. I don't know if the name, the scrubby, was thought up by her or if she's just copied the idea from someone else but that's irrelevant.

It's simply a length of material knitted into a sort of ball that you use for scrubbing pots and pans and anything that has bits of baked on food on the surface. It's a scourer but one that doesn't scratch as the material is JUST harsh enough to remove food bits but not harsh enough to even put a mark on the most delicate of surfaces.

I'm sure there are products on the market like it but for me, nothing beats this handmade "scrubby" and it's become my dish cleaning aid of choice.

The reason for the fork in the photo above ? Just for scale.

Anyway I'm off to have shower and I may well wear my 'Ove' Glove as I like the water pretty hot and the soap does get very slippery. And remember, it's good for gripping things !!

But I'll forgo using the scrubby as, with my delicate skin that is mostly free from baked on food bits, I still prefer my sponge.