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Tuesday 24 April 2012
Singing in the rain
If you have been watching watching to see if I am showing a softer tone now that I have met a real life Health and Safety Gauleiter, I would be interested if any discernible difference has been noted. It is however still early days and we have not yet had the chance to have a substantive discussion on health and safety nanny-ism. I shall of course keep you posted on how the discussions progress. I know you will be waiting with bated breath.
Is it only me...but we are never happy even though Shakespeare did refer to us as ‘this happy breed.
As I write these musings for your education and enlightenment I can hear and feel the rain battering against the fenestration, or windows if sadly you lack a Classical education. The sky is slate grey and it is clear that we are in the grip of an Atlantic depression which will surely last for a few days bringing with it low slung leaden skies, blowy winds and liquid precipitation or rain.
You would think this might make us happy or at least allow us to blow a wee sigh of relief. Heaven forbid. We are never happy.
Yet only last week parts of the land were declared arid and in the grip of a dry drought. And in these parts watering with sprinklers and hosepipes was declared verboten.
And straightaway people took to the airwaves to complain about the effect such restrictions would have on their gladioli, geraniums and fuchsias.
Poor you, was my instant reaction. Livestock might be soon crying out for a drink, people might be trekking miles to the nearest well and Bob Geldof might be needed to swear at us to donate money now to stop famine and drought in Tunbridge Wells, but so long as you can water your plants and gardens, all is well in the world.
Now it might only be me but I would have thought that the arrival of the rains on the plains of the Home Counties would be really welcome news. You would have thought that this might mean that we might delay the inevitability of a charity record for a wee bit; that we would not be seeing the sight of the women of Epsom, Ascot and Esher trekking for miles in their Volvos and BMWS to collect water from the nearest artesian well; and most importantly that our herbaceous borders might be saved. This news might have brought a smile to our faces.
Fat chance.
Instead we have depressed weather girls and meteorological Apparatchiks depressingly announcing the arrival of the depression and without any trace of a smile or relief letting us know that this depression was going to stick around for a wee bit.
Come on, people, surely this is good news for once. Let us celebrate, enjoy and exclaim the arrival of the rains. We might not see their like again for a bit.
Have a really great week (in the rain).
And should you find yourself stuck in doors on a grey and wet day, unable to water the garden, you might find an interesting read at www.themarketingcomic.blogspot.com. Learn what Alan Sugar, Ariel and Domestos have in common in ‘You’re Fired’.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Wednesday 18 April 2012
Apathy rules ok!
Is it only me...but some people these days just can't even be bothered.
Anyone who keeps half an eye open for the news will know that the Apparatchiks are a wee bit unhappy about what the Two Caesars are trying to do to their plans for a comfortable taxpayer funded retirement.
Flying in the face of logic, economic reality and our soaring ability for medical science to keep us alive for longer, these people and their Union Barons are insisting that we continue to subsidise a long, happy and wealth retirement even though such benefits and privileges are denied to us mere mortals.
I was intrigued to see that in a recent ballot, 72% of the members of the Apparatchik union, PCS, who voted, agreed to take further industrial action should the Two Caesars not come round to their way of thinking i.e. preserve the status quo.
I am all in favour of democracy, it is a good thing, but the crucial thing here is that it was a only majority of those voting who voted to strike. And here’s the rub, only 33% could be bothered to vote.
How difficult is it to vote? It is not like you are being asked to make a trip out in the cold and dark to put your cross on a wee bit of paper. Instead you get to vote in the warmth, comfort and privacy of your home. And you don’t even need to go and hunt for a stamp. The Apparatchik Union Baron will send you a stamped address envelope to make it even easier. All you have to do is find a pen, mark a cross and put envelope in the post.
They even make it easy for you to decide. You only have too choose between two very black and white options and say yes or no to the proposition that unless the taxpayers continue to generously featherbed your retirement, you will come out on strike. How straightforward can it all be?
And yet 2/3 couldn’t even be bothered to do that. And for something as important and as significant as their long term future.
Apathy rules ok.
It might only be me but I think that if the Apparatchiks can’t be bothered to vote and let us know whether they want to follow the advice of their Union Baron or subscribe to the common sense view of us taxpayers as articulated by the Two Caesars, then why should I bother paying for their pension.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Anyone who keeps half an eye open for the news will know that the Apparatchiks are a wee bit unhappy about what the Two Caesars are trying to do to their plans for a comfortable taxpayer funded retirement.
Flying in the face of logic, economic reality and our soaring ability for medical science to keep us alive for longer, these people and their Union Barons are insisting that we continue to subsidise a long, happy and wealth retirement even though such benefits and privileges are denied to us mere mortals.
I was intrigued to see that in a recent ballot, 72% of the members of the Apparatchik union, PCS, who voted, agreed to take further industrial action should the Two Caesars not come round to their way of thinking i.e. preserve the status quo.
I am all in favour of democracy, it is a good thing, but the crucial thing here is that it was a only majority of those voting who voted to strike. And here’s the rub, only 33% could be bothered to vote.
How difficult is it to vote? It is not like you are being asked to make a trip out in the cold and dark to put your cross on a wee bit of paper. Instead you get to vote in the warmth, comfort and privacy of your home. And you don’t even need to go and hunt for a stamp. The Apparatchik Union Baron will send you a stamped address envelope to make it even easier. All you have to do is find a pen, mark a cross and put envelope in the post.
They even make it easy for you to decide. You only have too choose between two very black and white options and say yes or no to the proposition that unless the taxpayers continue to generously featherbed your retirement, you will come out on strike. How straightforward can it all be?
And yet 2/3 couldn’t even be bothered to do that. And for something as important and as significant as their long term future.
Apathy rules ok.
It might only be me but I think that if the Apparatchiks can’t be bothered to vote and let us know whether they want to follow the advice of their Union Baron or subscribe to the common sense view of us taxpayers as articulated by the Two Caesars, then why should I bother paying for their pension.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Friday 13 April 2012
Giants and pygmies
Is it only me...but some people are too clever for their own good.
I have in past few days learnt that at one venerable academic institution in this country researchers have come to the conclusion that caterpillars are more likely to vomit when alone. This is earth shattering news and no doubt will have significant consequences for those charged with caring for the health and welfare of caterpillars who will now need to provide dark places well away from other caterpillars where they can go to throw up.
I would love to know whether the researchers found any correlation between incidences of projectile vomiting in this caterpillar community and the consumption of lagers and a doner.
This research made me start to wonder what other research was being undertaken in this country to advance human civilisation and knowledge. And so I did a wee bit research myself, at my own expense naturally.
For instance you will be delighted to know that a man with a lot of letters after his name was paid to come up with the perfect formula for toast, identifying with immense academic rigour the optimum temperature for the bread and the butter to maximise taste. My morning toast has tasted so much better now I know that.
And mankind made a huge leap forward when it paid students to test the theory that if you have infinite time and enough monkeys and typewriters you would eventually come up with a Shakespeare play. To test this a single computer was placed in a monkey enclosure at Paignton Zoo to monitor the literary output of six primates. After one month the flaws in the theory were proved when it was revealed that the primates had destroyed the machine, used it as a lavatory, and mostly typed the letter "s". I suppose it beats working for a living.
And you will no doubt be pleased to learn that a research paper published in the very popular ‘Evolution and Human Behaviour’ magazine, I think it’s a bit like Hello! for egg heads, has revealed that lap dancers get higher tips when ovulating. I am not sure how the findings from this research can be put to good and practical use, except by lap dancers though even they may struggle but I am willing to bet that the all male research team mightily enjoyed their field work.
Now maybe it’s only me but surely there are far more important, useful and relevant things for our brightest and best academic minds to study.
I know Isaac Newton pointed out that we are mere pygmies standing on the shoulders of giants but I don’t think he was thinking about better understanding the throwing up habits of caterpillars or the ovulating lapdancers when he said this.
I am sure that out there will be some egg head garlanded cum laude with PhDs and Fellowships and the like who will be able to defend such taxpayer funded largesse but in this day and age when as a nation we are struggling financially and economically I would really love to hear the defence and justification for paying these geeks to find out the best way to make a cheese sandwich. Have these people no shame?
I think it might be time for us to collect such idiocies from around the world to fuel our indignation.
Have a great week. And I am now considering applying for a research grant to investigate what makes a great week and whether or not humans and fruit flies think a week is great for the same reasons.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
I have in past few days learnt that at one venerable academic institution in this country researchers have come to the conclusion that caterpillars are more likely to vomit when alone. This is earth shattering news and no doubt will have significant consequences for those charged with caring for the health and welfare of caterpillars who will now need to provide dark places well away from other caterpillars where they can go to throw up.
I would love to know whether the researchers found any correlation between incidences of projectile vomiting in this caterpillar community and the consumption of lagers and a doner.
This research made me start to wonder what other research was being undertaken in this country to advance human civilisation and knowledge. And so I did a wee bit research myself, at my own expense naturally.
For instance you will be delighted to know that a man with a lot of letters after his name was paid to come up with the perfect formula for toast, identifying with immense academic rigour the optimum temperature for the bread and the butter to maximise taste. My morning toast has tasted so much better now I know that.
And mankind made a huge leap forward when it paid students to test the theory that if you have infinite time and enough monkeys and typewriters you would eventually come up with a Shakespeare play. To test this a single computer was placed in a monkey enclosure at Paignton Zoo to monitor the literary output of six primates. After one month the flaws in the theory were proved when it was revealed that the primates had destroyed the machine, used it as a lavatory, and mostly typed the letter "s". I suppose it beats working for a living.
And you will no doubt be pleased to learn that a research paper published in the very popular ‘Evolution and Human Behaviour’ magazine, I think it’s a bit like Hello! for egg heads, has revealed that lap dancers get higher tips when ovulating. I am not sure how the findings from this research can be put to good and practical use, except by lap dancers though even they may struggle but I am willing to bet that the all male research team mightily enjoyed their field work.
Now maybe it’s only me but surely there are far more important, useful and relevant things for our brightest and best academic minds to study.
I know Isaac Newton pointed out that we are mere pygmies standing on the shoulders of giants but I don’t think he was thinking about better understanding the throwing up habits of caterpillars or the ovulating lapdancers when he said this.
I am sure that out there will be some egg head garlanded cum laude with PhDs and Fellowships and the like who will be able to defend such taxpayer funded largesse but in this day and age when as a nation we are struggling financially and economically I would really love to hear the defence and justification for paying these geeks to find out the best way to make a cheese sandwich. Have these people no shame?
I think it might be time for us to collect such idiocies from around the world to fuel our indignation.
Have a great week. And I am now considering applying for a research grant to investigate what makes a great week and whether or not humans and fruit flies think a week is great for the same reasons.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Tuesday 10 April 2012
Stone Age Medicine
I hope you had a great break over Easter. Now it’s time to get back to work and regain the momentum we lost over the Bank Holiday weekend.
And here’s a shocker for you-I have met a real life Health and Safety Gauleiter. You might see a softer tone from me on these hard pressed people doing an important job. Alternatively you might not.
Is it only me...who thinks that the NHS needs to join 21st century?
A very good friend has in recent weeks been subject to the wonders of our NHS. And when I share this story with you you no doubt will come to the same conclusion as me-the Two Caesars are right to seek to reform to this venerable institution and to drag it screaming and kicking into the 21st century, or at least into the latter half of the last century.
Now lest these fine words should be read by my own physician let me say at the outset that I have no and have never had any complaint about the treatment I have received at the hands of the NHS, my beef has always been with NHS Apparatchiks and their lack of efficiency.
But back to my friend.
For reasons of patient confidentiality, and because I don’t know it, I will not disclose the condition but needless to say it was beyond the competence and capability of the GP who needed to refer my friend to a higher authority and be seen by a consultant.
All well so far. But this is where it all began to unravel.
For to see a consultant the GP has to pen a letter of referral which needs to be sent by an Apparatchik at the GP surgery to another Apparatchik who looks after the consultant’s diary-seemingly the medical profession is far too important to have to write their own communications and manage their own diaries. If you want to see how this is done, boys, look at the private sector where PAs and secretaries are becoming as rare as final salary pension pots.
After a short wait my friend hadn’t yet heard anything so she called up to be told that the letter had not yet been faxed to the consultant because the person whose responsibility it was to work the fax machine was away on holiday.
Yes, you were right first time, your eyes are not deceiving you.
It was a good job that my friend’s condition was not life threatening.
Now maybe it’s only me but who in this day and age sends letters by fax. This is like medicine from the Stone Age. Someone ought to tell these people that today is an electronic age and most sensible business people send communications safely, securely and instantaneously via the wonders of the world wide web. Perhaps someone might be able to explain to me why the NHS still persists and insists on using mediaeval technology.
And while we are it, why would any right minded business or organisation think it right and acceptable that communications could only be sent by one person and when this person was ill or on holiday or having a tea break, nothing could be communicated. No one else would tolerate a single point of failure like this or find this acceptable.
And yet still the Apparatchiks claim the NHS doesn’t need reform. Ye gods, if these people were working in my business , we would not be in business by the end of the week if they behaved and thought in an Apparatchik way which they wouldn’t of course should they be seeking to create value to pay for the Apparatchik-ariat.
It’s time to reform this rotten edifice and put a stop to Stone Age medicine being practised by the NHS. At least our medicines and treatments have moved on.
And to think we fund the over generous pension pots of these people.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
And here’s a shocker for you-I have met a real life Health and Safety Gauleiter. You might see a softer tone from me on these hard pressed people doing an important job. Alternatively you might not.
Is it only me...who thinks that the NHS needs to join 21st century?
A very good friend has in recent weeks been subject to the wonders of our NHS. And when I share this story with you you no doubt will come to the same conclusion as me-the Two Caesars are right to seek to reform to this venerable institution and to drag it screaming and kicking into the 21st century, or at least into the latter half of the last century.
Now lest these fine words should be read by my own physician let me say at the outset that I have no and have never had any complaint about the treatment I have received at the hands of the NHS, my beef has always been with NHS Apparatchiks and their lack of efficiency.
But back to my friend.
For reasons of patient confidentiality, and because I don’t know it, I will not disclose the condition but needless to say it was beyond the competence and capability of the GP who needed to refer my friend to a higher authority and be seen by a consultant.
All well so far. But this is where it all began to unravel.
For to see a consultant the GP has to pen a letter of referral which needs to be sent by an Apparatchik at the GP surgery to another Apparatchik who looks after the consultant’s diary-seemingly the medical profession is far too important to have to write their own communications and manage their own diaries. If you want to see how this is done, boys, look at the private sector where PAs and secretaries are becoming as rare as final salary pension pots.
After a short wait my friend hadn’t yet heard anything so she called up to be told that the letter had not yet been faxed to the consultant because the person whose responsibility it was to work the fax machine was away on holiday.
Yes, you were right first time, your eyes are not deceiving you.
It was a good job that my friend’s condition was not life threatening.
Now maybe it’s only me but who in this day and age sends letters by fax. This is like medicine from the Stone Age. Someone ought to tell these people that today is an electronic age and most sensible business people send communications safely, securely and instantaneously via the wonders of the world wide web. Perhaps someone might be able to explain to me why the NHS still persists and insists on using mediaeval technology.
And while we are it, why would any right minded business or organisation think it right and acceptable that communications could only be sent by one person and when this person was ill or on holiday or having a tea break, nothing could be communicated. No one else would tolerate a single point of failure like this or find this acceptable.
And yet still the Apparatchiks claim the NHS doesn’t need reform. Ye gods, if these people were working in my business , we would not be in business by the end of the week if they behaved and thought in an Apparatchik way which they wouldn’t of course should they be seeking to create value to pay for the Apparatchik-ariat.
It’s time to reform this rotten edifice and put a stop to Stone Age medicine being practised by the NHS. At least our medicines and treatments have moved on.
And to think we fund the over generous pension pots of these people.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Wednesday 4 April 2012
Ba ba, black sheep
Is it only me...but it seems to me that there are times when we behave more like sheep than the product of countless millennia of human evolution and development.
Queues have been a lot in the news over recent days but I am not going to share with you my thoughts on the sheer irrationality and madness of people lining up to queue for petrol even though we had plenty of petrol and there was never any likelihood of petrol being in short supply for at least week if we all behaved like me. In other words if we all kept calm and carried on, to paraphrase The Stereophonics....or was it Coldplay?
No instead I want to replay with you a recent experience while boarding a plane.
As usual when boarding a plane there are various stages we have to pass through, nearly all of which involve us standing in line. First there is the check in phase; then the awful so called security check which is really about seen-to-be-doing-something assurance than real security; then the wander through the strategically placed duty free shopping mall; followed by the coffee and eats experience; before being herded to the gate for a final sit down; and then at last we are called to board the plane.
At this point we all jump up and rush to queue up to have our tickets and boarding passes checked yet again before being allowed to proceed to board the plane.
Now it might only be me but it baffles me why we all do this.
Your seat has been allocated to you already so why jump up and queue. It is not as if you are going to get the best seat or even get served by the better looking trolley dolly by being first on. So why rush to queue? Why not linger a wee while longer with your paper and coffee and watch with bemused detached interest your fellow passengers jostle and push for pole position in the queue? It is a pointless and needless activity. The plane is not going to go and leave you behind, especially if you have luggage in the hold. That is deemed a security risk.
It does seem we must have ovine characteristics in the human DNA genome that evolution has failed to dislodge. In other words we behave like sheep and feel obliged to join a queue when we see one. Maybe we fear missing out on something.
I wonder if this is a Brit thing. A northern European Anglo Saxon trait? I can’t imagine the Latinos behaving like this. How did they manage to shift the sheep DNA from their genome? I would like to know.
So my advice if you flying over the holidays-stay seated in your seat when you are invited to board. Wait until the sheep have gone. And then stroll leisurely onto the plane and to your seat which will be sitting there waiting for you and still unoccupied.
Have a great week. And a fabulous Easter.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Queues have been a lot in the news over recent days but I am not going to share with you my thoughts on the sheer irrationality and madness of people lining up to queue for petrol even though we had plenty of petrol and there was never any likelihood of petrol being in short supply for at least week if we all behaved like me. In other words if we all kept calm and carried on, to paraphrase The Stereophonics....or was it Coldplay?
No instead I want to replay with you a recent experience while boarding a plane.
As usual when boarding a plane there are various stages we have to pass through, nearly all of which involve us standing in line. First there is the check in phase; then the awful so called security check which is really about seen-to-be-doing-something assurance than real security; then the wander through the strategically placed duty free shopping mall; followed by the coffee and eats experience; before being herded to the gate for a final sit down; and then at last we are called to board the plane.
At this point we all jump up and rush to queue up to have our tickets and boarding passes checked yet again before being allowed to proceed to board the plane.
Now it might only be me but it baffles me why we all do this.
Your seat has been allocated to you already so why jump up and queue. It is not as if you are going to get the best seat or even get served by the better looking trolley dolly by being first on. So why rush to queue? Why not linger a wee while longer with your paper and coffee and watch with bemused detached interest your fellow passengers jostle and push for pole position in the queue? It is a pointless and needless activity. The plane is not going to go and leave you behind, especially if you have luggage in the hold. That is deemed a security risk.
It does seem we must have ovine characteristics in the human DNA genome that evolution has failed to dislodge. In other words we behave like sheep and feel obliged to join a queue when we see one. Maybe we fear missing out on something.
I wonder if this is a Brit thing. A northern European Anglo Saxon trait? I can’t imagine the Latinos behaving like this. How did they manage to shift the sheep DNA from their genome? I would like to know.
So my advice if you flying over the holidays-stay seated in your seat when you are invited to board. Wait until the sheep have gone. And then stroll leisurely onto the plane and to your seat which will be sitting there waiting for you and still unoccupied.
Have a great week. And a fabulous Easter.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Monday 2 April 2012
More things we say
Is it only me...but seemingly we have the ability to stretch time.
A week or so ago I set out my aim to collect and share some of the stupid and really silly things we all say. Here is another. And as always I am on the lookout for more thoughts and inspired ideas from you.
Earlier this week a colleague of mine slumped into his chair and held his head in his hands and signed with real purposeful intent,
‘Boy, it’s been a long day’.
I am not sure what he expected he me to do but there was no way I felt inclined to mop his weary brow, massage his slumped and sagging frame or softly rub gentle fragrant oils into his exhausted skin.
Instead I parsed his gently uttered moan.
Now it might only be me but I always thought time was a fixed unit and did not vary according to mood or effort applied.
What exactly is a long day? A day is neither short nor long but made up of 24 hours, 1440 minutes, 86,400 seconds. No matter what you are doing, where you are or who you might be, that is the length of the day and from the days of Galileo it has been something to do with the length of time our wee planet takes to orbit the sun. Maybe Brian Cox who once told us that ‘life can only get better’ could confirm that for us.
Of equal stupidity is when those who originate to the North of the Wall of Hadrian ask or tell someone ‘to hold on a wee minute’. In this context of course ‘wee’ means ‘small’. But how long is a wee minute? A minute is exactly 60 seconds, no more, no less. How many seconds are there in a wee minute?
Now I know Man (and woman too for that matter) is clever and there are many things we can do now that we couldn’t do before, not always for that good, but when and how did we acquire the ability to change either up or down the length of time? This was not something I was ever taught.
If you know how to do this, please share.
And please share with us any other stupid things we say.
In meantime, have a great week, long or otherwise.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
A week or so ago I set out my aim to collect and share some of the stupid and really silly things we all say. Here is another. And as always I am on the lookout for more thoughts and inspired ideas from you.
Earlier this week a colleague of mine slumped into his chair and held his head in his hands and signed with real purposeful intent,
‘Boy, it’s been a long day’.
I am not sure what he expected he me to do but there was no way I felt inclined to mop his weary brow, massage his slumped and sagging frame or softly rub gentle fragrant oils into his exhausted skin.
Instead I parsed his gently uttered moan.
Now it might only be me but I always thought time was a fixed unit and did not vary according to mood or effort applied.
What exactly is a long day? A day is neither short nor long but made up of 24 hours, 1440 minutes, 86,400 seconds. No matter what you are doing, where you are or who you might be, that is the length of the day and from the days of Galileo it has been something to do with the length of time our wee planet takes to orbit the sun. Maybe Brian Cox who once told us that ‘life can only get better’ could confirm that for us.
Of equal stupidity is when those who originate to the North of the Wall of Hadrian ask or tell someone ‘to hold on a wee minute’. In this context of course ‘wee’ means ‘small’. But how long is a wee minute? A minute is exactly 60 seconds, no more, no less. How many seconds are there in a wee minute?
Now I know Man (and woman too for that matter) is clever and there are many things we can do now that we couldn’t do before, not always for that good, but when and how did we acquire the ability to change either up or down the length of time? This was not something I was ever taught.
If you know how to do this, please share.
And please share with us any other stupid things we say.
In meantime, have a great week, long or otherwise.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
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