Sut mae'r tywydd y bore ma?

Mae'n bwrw eira! Rough translation being, we're getting some of the white stuff and no, I am most definitely not impressed, especially as Keith has been to do a job on Anglesey this morning and is now on his way back. Just to make things difficult, there has been an accident on the A55, which has meant a detour for him and around Mold, unlike here, the snow is settling into compacted slush.

Ah yes, I hear you say, but the councils this year are prepared for this. They have stockpiled extra grit and have been waiting eagerly and alertly for the first signs of wintry weather so that they could rush out and grit the roads...

Dream on!

Bin bags

Yesterday was breezy here, which is why, as soon as the binmen had emptied the recycling boxes and bags, I went out to put ours away, only to find that the blue plastic bag for recycling paper and cardboard (but not corrugated cardboard), had mysteriously disappeared, along, it seemed, with those of my neighbours, as there was not a one to be seen anywhere. I am casting no nasturtiums, you understand, but within those few minutes, no-one but the binmen had been in the road. Now why they would want to make off with a load of recycling bags is a mystery to me. Maybe they have acquired a vastly inflated street value or are regarded as collectors items among certain sections of the community.

Anyway, later on I rang the council and explained that I was now sans bin bag. "Well, we don't send them out any more," said the lady on the phone.

"So how do I go about getting an new one?" I enquired.

"Well, you can come to the council offices for one," she said (An extra journey into town - I don't think so.) "or you can ask the binmen for another one next week." (Our binmen have all the charm and social interaction of a black bear with toothache.)

"That would mean I would have no recycling bag for a week," I pointed out.

"Oh, you can use ordinary carrier bags for now," came the reply. (That would be the bags that we don't get in shops any more in Wales unless we pay for them.)

By this time, I was bored with the conversation and brought it speedily to an end, deciding to look out for the binmen this morning on my walk with Paddy.

As luck would have it, I spotted the bin wagon parked in a road nearby and right by it was a white van, seemingly a council van, with a man in a high viz jacket standing by it. I asked him if he had a spare blue bag and explained my conversation with the council lady the day before. He looked slightly mystified but disappeared up the drive of an adjacent house muttering that he was sure he had one somewhere.

"You do work on the bins?" I said when he came back.

"Oh no, I just live here," he said, "but I do collect any green bins and bin bags I see abandoned," and he handed me a much used but serviceable blue bag.

When I had made my apologies and crawled off up the road, I turned into the new housing estate and, hey presto, there was a pristine blue bag which had blown from somewhere onto the grass. As it was nowhere near any of the houses, I decided to liberate it forthwith.

So now, much to Keith's amusement, I have two. At least I shouldn't have to bother the council again.

The Christmas Story

The Christmas story as you have never heard it before.

No animals were harmed

A couple of weeks ago, I was down in Bristol, visiting Dad and as usual, we went to a nearby garden centre for our lunch. This time, the Christmas displays were up.

You can see Rudolph there, looking forward to his Christmas Eve duties.

These polar bears were moving, but careful inspection revealed that they were not real.

In fact, these were not the polar bears filmed for 

David Attenborough's programme and nor were any animals harmed in the production of these scenes.
Well, just in case you were wondering!

Regrets

Well, I now have all my Christmas shopping done, presents wrapped, cards written and posted and, before you start muttering about the smugness of the retired, let me tell you, this is the first year ever that I have been so organised and timely.

So, while wrapping Keith's present (and if he is reading this, I would say, "Don't even think about trying to find it or guess what it is!"), I decided to get myself into the festive mood with a few carols on the music centre and then, because many of the words are familiar to me, I began to join in with the singing.

And that was when  the suspicion that my singing voice is no longer proved to be well founded.

When I was little, I was thought to have a good singing voice; it was in the genes as my grandmother was a well-known member of local choirs of her time. The problem was that I was a very shy child and would no more have agreed to sing solo than fly to the moon, so I was bribed. I could have piano lessons, which I was interested in, if I agreed to have singing lessons also. Very reluctantly, I agreed, but my sacrifice came to nought as, for some unremembered reason, neither ever happened.

Fast forward to sixth form and our production of Purcell's 'Dido and Aeneas' (Yes, no rubbishy 'High School Musical' in those days!), in which I played my part in the chorus and enjoyed it. For years afterwards, I would regularly entertain myself, and the neighbours on the other side of the bathroom wall, during my ablutions, giving  spirited renditions of 'When I am laid in earth' and 'Fear no danger'. 

But then I grew up and haven't really sung much for years and the result is the proof of the old adage, "Use it or lose it." The wobble is there, the difficult in holding correct pitch, the thinness of the voice. My grandmother would be ashamed of me and I am a bit ashamed of myself that I didn't do more to cultivate what voice I did have.

Ah well, maybe I'd better start practising in front of the mirror with the hairbrush.

Christmas shopping

I came up with a brilliant strategy this week. As I hate fighting my way through supermarkets to do the Christmas food shopping and hate it with a passion, why not do it online, with the added bonus that we have now saved enough nectar points to cover it. One problem, you can't use nectar points at Sainsbury's for online food shopping.

So, on to plan B. I would do the shopping for non perishables in person and use the nectar card, leaving the perishables to be bought online.

This, of course, initiated a discussion with Keith about what should be on the list.

"Quality Street," he said. "No," I said, "too many calories."

"Those boxes of sugary orange and lemon slices," he said, undaunted. "How old are you?" I asked scathingly, "Also too many calories and too much sugar."

"Nuts!" he exclaimed.

"Well, you can have shelled nuts," I said, 

"Why not nuts in shells?"

"Because  I'm not spending all my time till mid February hoovering up bits of shell which have been catapulted all over the living room," I explained. I thought that was quite reasonable, really.

Keith, however, was disgusted.

"Looks like I shall have to drag my sore feet around Sainsbury's myself to make sure I get what I want," he said.

Result!

Subject: Teaching Maths in Britain

This came to me today from a friend.   Those of us who were educated in ante-diluvian times will recognise the downward trend and weep.  Enough said. Many a true word is spoken in jest!
1. Teaching Maths In 1970
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100..
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price.
What is his profit?
2. Teaching Maths In 1980
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is 80% of the price.
What is his profit?
3. Teaching Maths In 1990
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is £80.
How much was his profit?
4. Teaching Maths In 2000 A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is £80 and his profit is £20.
Your assignment: Underline the number 20.5. Teaching Maths In 2005
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands.
Your assignment: Discuss how the birds and squirrels might feel as the logger cut down their homes just for a measly profit of £20.
6. Teaching Maths In 2009

A logger is arrested for trying to cut down a tree in case it may be offensive to Muslims or other religious groups not consulted in the application for the felling license. He is also fined a £100 as his chainsaw is in breach of Health and Safety legislation as it deemed too dangerous and could cut something. He has used the chainsaw for over 20 years without incident however he does not have the correct certificate of competence and is therefore considered to be a recidivist and habitual criminal. His DNA is sampled and his details circulated throughout all government agencies. He protests and is taken to court and fined another £100 because he is such an easy target.

When he is released he returns to find Gypsies have cut down half his wood to build a camp on his land. He tries to throw them off but is arrested, prosecuted for harassing an ethnic minority, imprisoned and fined a further £100. While he is in jail again the Gypsies cut down the rest of his wood and sell it on the black market for £100 cash. They also have a departure BBQ of squirrel and pheasant and leave behind several tonnes of rubbish and asbestos sheeting.

The forester on release is warned that failure to clear the fly tipped rubbish immediately at his own cost is an offence. He complains and is arrested for environmental pollution, breach of the peace and invoiced £12,000 plus VAT for safe disposal costs by a regulated government contractor.

Your assignment: How many times is the logger going to have to be arrested and fined before he realizes that he is never going to make £20 profit by hard work, give up, sign onto the dole and live off the state for the rest of his life?

7. Teaching Maths In 2010

A logger doesn’t sell a lorry load of timber because he can’t get a loan to buy a new lorry because his bank has spent all his and their money on a derivative of securitized debt related to sub-prime mortgages in Surrey and lost the lot, with only some government money left to pay a few million-pound bonuses to their senior directors and the traders who made the biggest losses.

The logger struggles to pay the £1,200 road tax on his old lorry. However, as it was built in the 1970s it no longer meets the emissions regulations and he is forced to scrap it.


Some Bulgarian loggers buy the lorry from the scrap merchant and put it back on the road. They undercut everyone on price for haulage and send their cash back home, while claiming unemployment for themselves and their relatives. If questioned they speak no English and it is easier to deport them at the governments expense. Following their holiday back home they return to the UK with different names and fresh girls and start again. The logger protests, is accused of being a bigoted racist and as his name is on the side of his old lorry he is forced to pay £1,500 registration fees as a gang master.

The Government borrows more money to pay more to the bankers as bonuses are not cheap. The parliamentarians feel they are missing out and claim the difference on expenses and allowances.
You do the maths.

8. Teaching Maths 2017
أالمسجلتبيعحمولهشاحنةمنالخشبمناجل 100 دولار. صاحبتكلفة الانتاج 80 م الثمن