NASA again

Nestling amongst all the other detritus (sorry - items) on Keith's computer station, aka NASA, is a substantial pile of correspondance, all the boring brown envelope stuff and a fair proportion of it unopened. The other morning I mentioned that, this week being my half term, it was 'all going to go'.
Keith misinterpreting my threat to mean everything on the desk, hurriedly brought home the wherewithall to rebuild one of the computers so that the other one could be dispensed with. I suppose it was too early for me to celebrate; I should have waited for the final outcome. So for the past few evenings I have watched him rebuild the computer, not like yer average computer, of course. No, this one has about 20 hard drives in it (only a slight exaggeration) which means that
a) it is very heavy
b) there are problems getting it to work reliably.

So it's back to the drawing board. The NASA corner of the living room is still a mess, there are only three cables less than the fifty million that were there before and there are still discs, boxes and gadgets everywhere.
Oh, and the paperwork? Well, it's no longer on top of the desk, it's now been stuffed out of sight into a drawer. Progress of a sort, I suppose but not quite what I had in mind!

Tractors

I think Keith is getting a bit concerned about my daily problem with tractors cluttering the local dual carriageway during my trip to work. His mind has been on the task and he has come up with a novel solution:
An air to ground heat-seeking missile tuned in to tractors' exhausts!
Sounds good to me. I had been considering the ancient Romans' idea - knives attached to my chariot (sorry - car) wheels carefully positioned to catch them as I overtake, but the heat-seeking missile - oh yes, I like the sound of that.

A Flexible Curriculum

I am very curious to know how our beloved poiticians spend their Sunday afternoons. They obviously don't play golf, go for a healthy walk or even pop down to the local. No, their razor sharp minds ever on the case, they spend their time thinking up startling announcements to hit the headlines the following morning.
Thus it is that this Monday morning, for instance, we hear that philosophy is to be introduced into the Foundation curriculum. Yes, OK, I'm all for improving children's skills at critical thinking.
But not content with that, the secondary curriculum is to get a bit of a heave too. Well, it's about time that lot shared the experience of all the changes we hard-working primary teachers have had to put up with over the last 20 years! (Sorry, YP, only joking - don't get the hazel switch out yet!) So the secondary curriculum is to become more flexible - like the primary curriculum. Sorry, which planet has that particular politician been on? 'Flexible' and 'primary school' ceased to have any connection with each other with the advent of the National Curriculum.
Oh, and cookery will have to be taught, as well as care of the environment, the two world wars and the slave trade, with a little Chinese and/or Arabic thrown in for good measure.
Now, what were we talking about again? Oh yes,

A Flexible Curriculum

So that will be on alternate wet Friday afternoons, right?

Persistence wins the day - maybe

Today, I bought a mini trampoline - for MY use since Keith has now appropriated the stepper.( This girl never gives up! )
Last night I went out with three fellow student counsellors for a birthday celebration meal (one of theirs, not mine) and during the course of the evening, I received a text from Keith:
"Don't forget to bring cake."
He never gives up either!

The ankle - further news

On the 11 month anniversary of the Breaking of the Ankle, Keith had an appointment with the specialist - or one of his minions, anyway, who told him that the pain he is still suffering is because the joint has now become arthritic. Two solutions are possible:
1. An ankle replacement
2. For the joint to be fused, which would result in far less pain but would, of course, mean that he would have no mobility in it.
So an ankle replacement would seem to be the best choice, except that he thinks it unlikely that anyone will do it because of his existing vein problems.
When he broke his ankle, he was coming back from the shop where he had just bought a bottle of whisky and a large cream sponge cake, neither of which he was supposed to be buying - you'd think it would have put him off both for life!
Dream on...

Enough is enough!

I'm not generally renowned for my patience but I think in this respect, I have demonstrated a reasonable track record, but enough is enough.
I'm talking about a character who imaginatively calls himself 'anonymous' and who, after spending many hours trawling through my blog decided, a little while ago, to 'entertain' us with a range of snide, vicious and vacuous comments. Now I have this belief that people are entitled to their opinions and obviously. the comments box on a blog is one of the places where opinions can be aired but most people tend to confine their comments, however loosely, to the content of the post in question. Furthermore, and 'anonymous' will have great difficulty understanding this, the vast majority of those who do leave comments, tend to be polite. So for all of you out there who do take the time and trouble to leave comments, may I just say how much I enjoy reading them and responding to them. (Yes, even you, YP and Craig! :))
I have been quite amused by the efforts of 'anonymous' and I have appreciated the counter-comments of other fellow bloggers and friends but now I've had enough. One recent comment asked me why I don't block him as it spoils the reading of this blog, so I have decided that, as from now, I shall delete any comments made by this person.
Anonymous, you are of the opinion that I am a sad, over the hill has-been who can't write to save her life and whilst this may or may not be true, to me IT DOESN'T MATTER! I am happy in my life and I have only pity for you, my friend, because you so obviously are not.

Scones for a lifetime

Keith has decided that if he lives out his generally accepted allotted timespan of three score years and ten, or to stretch it a bit, three score years and fifteen, assuming that he eats three scones a day (which he shouldn't be doing anyway as he's supposed to be on a diet!), he is only going to be able to enjoy about 15000 more. (Actually it would be more like 16500, but who's quibbling?)
Hmmm, I think the January blues are getting to him!