Gas bills

So British Gas are about to graciously reduce our bills by 10%. Good of them considering it is now (hopefully) near the end of winter and that a few months ago they increased them by an eye-watering 35%.

Spring on its way?

New Year is the time for new resolutions, a fresh start, kicking oneself into shape. Well, that's what they say. I tend not to make New Year resolutions as I either forget them or decide they're a bad idea within weeks or even days. However, I had decided to take myself in hand exercise-wise before Christmas and for me, that means mostly doing more walking. I have a couple of problems with this, though.

1. The weather at this time of year - not always conducive to my faltering motivation.

2.. I need a dog to walk with. It's nearly three years now since Lucy died and I do keep wishing I had another now. Dog rescue centres are few and far between around here but I'm not rushing and I'm hoping it will happen sooner or later.

Anyway, back to the walking. One day last week, when the weather was fine, bright and sunny I decided to walk the almost-five-miles there and back to the chemist. You see, it just takes that first step - well, getting out through the door - that's after you've heaved yourself off the sofa. Easy, really - and well worth it, trust me! This is what the route to Coed Poeth looked like.

Oh, and it's uphill all the way.

RIP Beachhutman

I am writing this in a state of shock, as I have just learned from Flighty's blog that one of my favourite bloggers, Beachhutman, aka George has recently died. I first came into contact with George when I moved my blog to '20six', which later became Platform 27 and he sent me a welcome comment with an aside that he thought maybe I was a fellow Archers' fan. At that time, George was facing huge problems in his life, many of which he wrote about on his 'Wrangling Wrinklies' blog but gradually, he got his life back on course and began a great new life commuting between China and Spain.
My thoughts about George are that he was an intelligent, witty, sensitive man who was also very talented, as a writer and artist and, as he was only in his early sixties, I find it hard to believe that he is no longer with us. From what I can gather from his blog, he fell ill with 'flu which proved to be far worse than originally thought.
I'm sorry I never met you in reality, George but I feel I have lost a friend. The blogging world is strange like that.

St Peter and the Blonde

TK hasn't sent me any 'blonde' jokes lately, but now he has. Enjoy.
A Blonde was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St Peter met her at the Pearly Gates.
'I'm sorry,' St Peter said; 'But Heaven is> suffering from an overload of goodly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Heavenly Arrivals.'
'That's cool' said the blonde, 'What does the Entrance Exam consist of?'
'Just three questions' said St Peter.
'Which are?' asked the blonde. 'The first,' said St Peter, 'is, which two days of the week start with the letter 'T' '? The second is 'How many seconds are there in a year?' The third is 'What was the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?' 'Now,' said St Peter, 'Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me.'
So the blonde went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought (I expect you to do the same). The following morning, St Peter called upon the blonde and asked if she had considered the questions, to which she replied, 'I have.'
'Well then,' said St Peter, 'Which two days of the week start with the letter T?'
The blonde said, 'Today and Tomorrow.'
St Peter pondered this answer for some time, and decided that indeed the answer can be applied to the question. 'Well then, could I have your answer to the second of the three questions?' St Peter went on, 'how many seconds in a year?'
The Blonde replied, 'Twelve!'
'Only twelve?' exclaimed St Peter, 'How did you arrive at that figure?'
'Easy,' said the blonde, 'there's the second of January, the second of February, right through to> the second of December, giving a total of twelve seconds.'
St Peter looked at the blonde and said, 'I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision.' And he walked away shaking his head. A short time later, St Peter returned to the Blonde.
'I'll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven. Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?'
The blonde replied: 'Of the three questions, I found this the easiest to answer.'
'Really!' exclaimed St Peter, 'And what is the answer?'
'It's Andy.'
'Andy??'
'Yes, Andy,' said the blonde. This totally floored St Peter, and he paced this way and that, deliberating the answer. Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer, and turning to the blonde, asked 'How in God's name did you arrive at THAT answer?'
'Easy' said the blonde, 'Andy sat, Andy watched, Andy waited 'till his billy boiled.'
And the blonde entered Heaven...

Golden Handcuffs

I've finished with teaching, something I continue to rejoice about, but couldn't help hearing about this on the news yesterday. £10,000 to be given to good teachers to keep them working in 'challenging' schools for at least three years. Not that that will happen in all the 'toughest' schools, you understand. Oh no, the toughest secondary schools only. So I guess that means that the poor old primary teachers are expected to soldier on with no pecuniary incentives - as always.
And for those who wonder how primary aged pupils can possibly be as difficult as their older brothers and sisters, may I suggest you watch this episode of 'Dispatches' shown last week on Channel 4. (You can watch it online).

It's just a pullover

Before Christmas I bought Dad a long-sleeved pullover, which for one reason or another, had not yet been sent, so this morning I went off to the post office to remedy the situation. A long-sleeved pullover may not sound particularly newsworthy, but for someone who has worn short sleeved shirts and sleeveless pullovers for a lifetime, it is. When I came back home, I rang Dad to tell him I had posted the parcel and he should be getting it tomorrow.
"Oh, has it got sleeves?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"But I don't wear sleeves. .. I'd better keep it for best."
"No, it's for the cold weather and we did discuss this before Christmas..."
He laughed. "Well, you discussed it and I listened," he said. "I thought I'd better not argue."
"But you did say you would wear it," I said. "I wouldn't have bought it if you hadn't said you would wear it."
"Oh well," he said, "I'm sure it will be all-right."
A success then! Hopefully...

Prince Harry's latest

I was planning on doing a post on this but Silverback beat me to it, so I will content myself with agreeing wholeheartedly with what he says regarding Prince Harry and to his list of nicknames etc by which hosts of other people are known, I will add that of my son, who is also in the army and, being from Liverpool, with a strong accent to boot, has been known since he first signed on as 'Scouser'. He is, and always has been, perfectly happy with that and accepts it for what it is, a nickname, nothing more or less.
I find it so frustrating, although sadly not surprising, that all the usual PC gang are on the bandwagon, baying for blood. Someone representing the Ramadhan Foundation, interviewed on BBC News has stated that Harry should 'come on down here and apologise face to face.' As he was not the person referred to in the film, I cannot for the life of me see why he thinks such an apology should be made to him and his associates.
The world is slowly but surely going mad. We have Israelis and Palestinians killing each other over a tiny strip of land but the politicians and pressure groups focus their energies and outrage on an unimportant nickname which apparently was quite acceptable to its owner.
"A spokeswoman for the Ministry of Defence said: "Neither the Army nor the Armed Forces tolerates inappropriate behaviour in any shape or form. "
Well, maybe they feel they have to be seen to be taking some sort of action, but one hopes that, behind the scenes, they will treat this situation with an appropriate degree of common sense.