Archive for June, 2013

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3rd Law Part 43 – there is no tennis

Saturday, June 15th, 2013

There is no tennis. It is all repeats. It is raining. We all look forward to the British summer. We get fed up with the winter.  We sit there dreaming of sultry days where it is almost too hot to do anything other than sit eating a picnic in the shade then dozing off to the gentle sound of the languid river lapping away at the bank. As the afternoon cools we wander back down the river path and find the pub at the bridge. Day turns into night and we stagger merrily home to our beds in preparation for the following lazy day.

In practice it is rarely like that. Just think of Wimbledon and the number of times you’ve seen Cliff Richard entertaining the crowd on Centre Court. Ok only the once and since they put the roof on they’ve not needed to call on his services but you know what I mean. That’s an expensive way of avoiding having to listen to Cliff Richard in my book. Would have been cheaper to send him on a package holiday somewhere distant. A Saga one probs! Could probably have a whip round from people with Centre Court debentures to make sure he doesn’t come back the following year.

Now I know this line of reasoning isn’t going to be universally popular. Cliff has many fans. I don’t mind the lad but his stuff is a little clean cut for my liking. Mind you one of my favourites is “Those Were The days” by Mary Hopkin. Both Cliff and Mary have a Eurovision Song Contest pedigree. When I was a kid we used to have a chance of winning. Not any more. I don’t even watch it nowadays. Don’t really watch much TV.

Anyway I’m wandering off the subject with was British Summer Weather. The tennis in question is Queens which is the warm up tourney to Wimbledon. Not being the mega institution that is Wimbledon the folk at Queens can’t afford a roof. I think it would be a bit over the top anyway. Geddit? I’m pleased with that oneJ

It’s a funny thing the whole issue of being pleased with yourself. It’s ok being pleased in private but I suppose you have to suppress your visible self-pleasure, if that’s the right way of putting it, when in front of others. I guess when it is expressed as the written word and being read by someone who is not in your presence at least you are not around to feel embarrassed. Maybe you wouldn’t be embarrassed. I’m probably talking right out of turn here.

Thinking about it I wouldn’t be embarrassed myself. No idea where I got the idea from. I’m sure there are loads of other things that one can be embarrassed about. Going out with no clothes on for example. Not that that is likely to happen, especially in the UK in Summer. It is too cold and you would notice that you had completely forgotten to put any clothes on doh – puts palm to forhead having previously raised eyebrows.

I can’t say I’ve ever gone anywhere and forgotten to get dressed first. I’ve forgotten to get shaved. Probably done that more than once. I once forgot to drop one of the kids off at nursery school and was half way between Lincoln and Newark before I remembered. We even forgot Tom at home when the family went down to a photography studio for a bit family photo. We took three cars and assumed he was in one of the others.

Only realised when we were all there posing as a group and someone said “where’s Tom”. I had to bomb back to get the lad. I’d set the alarm and everything before leaving the house so when he came downstairs he set it off. Our Tom has always had his head screwed on and even at the tender age of whatever it was he managed to put the code in to disable it. All’s well that ends well and we got the family photo. It’s hanging up in the house somewhere along with a million others.

Actually we haven’t got a million photos. We wouldn’t be able to get anything else in the house if we did. Ourselves even. Not much point having a house in that case. Might just as well call it a self storage unit. These days a million photos would fit quite neatly into a 4Terabyte or so hard drive. Obviously it depends on the size of image file. I assumed most would be around 4.5Megs with some being smaller because they were taken with an older camera with fewer pixels. I’m boring you here.

You have to promise me that if I appear to be droning on a bit you’ll tell me. I don’t want to develop the reputation of being a bore. Zzzzz. If I am boring you I’ll just have to talk to myself for a bit. At least I appreciate my own jokes. Not stand up roll around holding your stomach because they were so funny jokes. Just intelligent witticisms from a lively and inventive mind. That’s ma story and I’m sticking to it. If you tell them something often enough they will start to believe it. Whoever they and it are. Innit.

I’ve noticed myself lapsing into the vernacular on occasion. Innit, wtf, probs, loosa even. Yer mother works at McDonalds was an early one the kids learnt at school. Useful stuff instead of all this readin ritin and hard sums. At this point I should make it clear that references to mothers working at McDonalds are in no way intended as a sleight on your mother or McDonalds. I quite like your mother 😉 and McDonalds.

My fave is a large Big Mac with diet Coke though it never really fills you as a meal. I also like KFC but I always feel crap after one of those. A KFC is something that tastes great whilst you are eating it and then greasy and ‘orrible afterwards. Also I suspect the chips fries aren’t as good as McDonalds though you need to make sure they are fresh at either.

How on earth we got to talking about fast food I don’t know. That’s the 3rd Law for you. It’s a law unto itself, as they say. They don’t specifically apply that saying to the 3rd Law. I just did it myself. Because I can. You need to appreciate that sometimes when I give you something it is because I can and not because it is written down somewhere. Life would be a bit boring if it had to be run according to what was written down.

Ok society has to have rules for it to function and in fact I typically won’t do a job at home unless it is written down but in general it is better if you act as a free agent. The open road lies ahead. Chose to go down it. Don’t look back. Just go…

3rd Law Part 42 here

3rd Law Part 44 here

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Civil, war

Friday, June 14th, 2013

XSat high in the hills where love is norm:-
The basis for life, everyday.

Where the absence of love fuels a desire to love,
And love a desire to live.

Over, again, looking down on crater lakes;
On flora vivid in the equatorial sun.

Yet, unseen, deep in the valley, grouped and in convoy;
A void of permanent want.

Of fear, and poison;
Hatred flows and the cities crumble.

Cruel meager lives,
Punctuated only by acts of extreme violence.

The old man dreams of nothing but peace;
But his boys know nothing but war.

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3rd Law Part 42 – the dawn chorus

Friday, June 14th, 2013

The dawn chorus is in full voice.  With several part harmony. It’s the best time of day, no question though I am pretty fond of the end of a nice warm day. We don’t get em very often. Mornings are more consistent. Expectations are different. You are more likely to have an enjoyable early morning than early evening because the freshness is there whatever the weather is going to be that day.

Maybe part of it is being tired of an evening. It’s certainly a lot easier to decide to do some excercise in the morning than in the evening. You wonder if the birds know what the other birds are saying. The different makes of bird that is. Sounds a bit like different makes of car or washing machine doesn’t it? I could have used the word breed but I chose to give the impression that I was a child of my time, dumbed down and dangerous. The dangerous bit just sounded the right thing to say and not in any way relevant to the thread of the conversation. It was the poet in me coming out.

I, as a poet, am not particularly into dangerous things. It just rolled off the poetic tongue. Not one of those “roll around the tongue, chew it, spit it out and see what it looks like” rolls. Just a “spontaneous without thinking out it came” roll. Often the latter roll results in interesting consequences. It’s the writing that you look at and think, wow, how did that get there? Amazes me sometimes.

Early mornings are perhaps not really the time to be amazed. Tbh I’m too bleary eyed to be amazed. It’s a condition that is only party alleviated by rubbing the eyes with forefinger. You can probably do it with the back of your hand but I wear glasses and it is easier to slip my forefinger in underneath the rim to do it. That way I get to keep my specs on and not smudge them.

Smudging specs is an occupational hazard of the wearer of glasses. Real nuisance because you then need to clean them. That might sound simple enough but you also need to make the decision which cloth to use. Shirt or tie? Well I seldom wear a tie so it has to be shirt. However what you, dear possessor of 2020 vision need to know is that shirts can apply tiny scratches to the surface of a lens thereby rendering them opaque over time. Even silk ties can do this. Opaque lenses are clearly no good. Geddit:)

The only safe way of cleaning specs is to use one of those microfibre cloths they provide in the glasses case when you buy them. Using a proprietary specs cleaning liquid is also handy. Produces very good results. Crystal clear. I can recommend it. Never have any of the stuff in though. Gets used up and there are two specswearers in this house. Notice how I fused the two words there. It was to make you think I had a sweary side. I have been known to swear. When I’m with the lads. To make me sound big. You know how it goes.

Most of the time I don’t swear. Especially on twitter. Not sure I’ve ever sworn in writing like that. I’m sure I’ve used the word bugger a few times and perhaps bloody but these days people don’t count them as real swear words. Not like the too oft used “f” word or the “c” word which really shows you are upset. Or don’t have much of a vocabulary which is quite likely to be the case. Loser.

I do realise that vocabulary is a living changing thing. The words I use have evolved. Simplified really into acronyms. Perhaps that is the ultimate dumbing down. You dropped the apostrophe ages ago. Capital letters and grammar then got kicked into touch and acronyms, and abbreviations were the final phase. Wtf? That’s what I’m talking about btw. Note I didn’t drop the apostrophe. I’m into evolution in an acceptable way. You still know what I mean when I say wtf and btw but drop the apostrophe and I introduce ambiguity. You can also drop a capital letter without really affecting the sentence. If it comes after a full stop you know it’s the start of a new sentence. Drop the full stop and it makes the reading a lot harder.

I’m beginning to sound like a teacher here and a teacher I am not. I doubt that I’d have the patience. Bloody kids. There you go. I swore. I do have kids of my own as I may have mentioned but it’s hard enough keeping them under control without surrounding each of them with 29 partners in crime. The number 29 comes to you from the British education system which in theory has standardised class sizes at 30. Only the state education system. I’d be somewhat annoyed if I was paying a fortune to have my kid educated privately and find that they were in classes of 30.

That would be a nice little earner wouldn’t it. Let’s assume the kid is at a top public school and you, the parent are forking out around thirty grand a year for the privilege. Last time I looked htat is what they pay. Probably more now but hey. Anyway thirty grand times thirty kids is nine hundred k a year. Ok you have the hotel bills and other infrastructure cots to pay out of that but it would be a nice little earner. This is all an academic debate (geddit again?;) ) because privately educated kids are not squeezed into classes of thirty, as far as I know, except for games. You need fifteen a side to play rugby unless you are playing rugby league or sevens.

Anyway four kids at a top public school would cost  a lot of money. Anne would have to get a bar job. I’ve always thought that would be very handy, having your wife work behind the bar of your local. However if Iwas shelling out that much money for the kids education I’d probably not have any dosh left to go down the local even if she was able to slip me a quiet freebie every now and again. I’d have to buy some beer when the landlord was looking.

If I had that kind of money I’d probably not be going to the pub in the first place. More likely to be a wine bar or club. The champagne in pubs around here isn’t that good. In fact I’m not sure the Morning Star even stocks champagne. There would be no takers. Mind you I don’t think it stocks mild anymore either. I bet the yoof of today don’t even know what mild is. They are all into vodka. Mixed with pop. Huh!

3rd Law Part 41 here

3rd Law Part 43 here

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Crisis what crisis?

Thursday, June 13th, 2013

Well there’s the antibiotic crisis, the global banking crisis, the Eurozone crisis, the South American crisis of 2002, the crisis in the theory of dynamical systems, the omg we’ve got no milk crisis, the what am I gonna wear crisis, the hair colouring went wrong crisis, the mid life crisis, the baby sitter can’t come tonight crisis, the almost out of petrol and there’s no garage for miles crisis, crisis at Christmas, the existential crisis, the crisis of confidence, the Syria crisis, the crisis in the kitchen, make up crisis, beard trimmer battery goes flat in middle of trim – stuck on chin hair crisis,

To be continued…

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The crisp sandwich

Wednesday, June 12th, 2013

Up there in the gastronomic stratosphere where reside the world’s finest culinary concoctions lies the humble crisp sandwich. Much has been written of this delicacy and a great deal is to be found on the subject through the services of Google. I offer to you the simplest of instructions.

Some of the basics of this recipe are identical to other sandwich recipes to be found on Philosopherontap. Fresh crusty white bread sliced not too thinly and then spread with soft butter. The two slices should be laid butter side up on a large plate. An entire packet of cheese and onion crisps is then emptied onto one of the slices ensuring that any bits that fall off are retrieved and carefully stacked on top of the others.

The brand of crisp is important. Supermarket own brands don’t cut it. It has to be Walkers or Smiths. Interestingly enough the more expensive, premium crisp such as Pipers doesn’t really do the job either. We are looking for the right combination of taste and crunchiness here. Pipers crisps are too thick for the perfect crisp sandwich.

Once the rogue crisps have been carefully stacked the second slice of bread is placed on top butter side down (obv). At this stage you will find that some crisps do escape around the sides, probably in fragment form. It is perfectly acceptable to hoover these up and eat them without bread.

You may now eat the crisp sandwich taking care to hold it over the plate because no crisp sandwich put together by human hand is ever going to be totally crisp tight. Leave the excess crisps to fall to the plate and consume the whole sandwich. Note you should not cut the sandwich in half as you might with cheese prawn or ham. It needs to be eaten as one large slab.

The crisp sandwich is often accompanied by a glass of cold milk, semi skimmed or full fat to your own taste. Under no circumstance should skimmed milk be used. Skimmed milk is not only an affront to the senses of the crisp gourmet but its total lack of body is not well suited to washing down the crisps.

When the last corner of bread has been consumed you should now run your finger over the plate to mop up any loose crisp crumbs, licking your finger clean at appropriate intervals. You may then place the plate in the dishwasher or, if you are poor, wash it in the sink. Paper plates should not be used to eat crisp sandwiches.

And that dear reader is the crisp sandwich. I have no illustrations to support this text because on this occasion I am trying to lose weight and crisp sandwiches are off the menu.

As a footnote it should be mentioned that flavours other than cheese and onion may be used according to individual taste. Beef flavoured crisps offer almost the same experience but ready salted should probably be avoided.

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3rd Law 41 – good weather for a funeral

Wednesday, June 12th, 2013

I see raindrops streaking the window. It has clearly just started to spit (ting). I’m wondering if this is the start of a heavier shower. Oops yes. It’s just come on. The reason I was a wondering is because my car is parked at the farthest point from the office it can get and today I am without a coat. Coatless. Naked but for a polo shirt that will do nothing to prevent me getting wet. Soaked even.

My spectacles have no protection. It matters not. A TNT lorry leaves the car park and a DPD van (Global Express Parcels) moves in. It’s the end of a working day. I’m thinking of heading east. I live in the east. Not the far east or the middle east. Just 15 miles east.

The raindrops are heavier now and are racing each other down the window. Something to do I suppose, watch the racing raindrops. People are leaving the office. They are off home. Workers of the world. I’m one of them but I’m still here for the moment being mesmerised by the raindrops and debating with myself whether to make a run for it.

I quite like the rain. I like the noise it makes when it lands on a roof. I don’t particularly like floods though I do like the sensation I get when I jump into a pool of water. As long as it’s not too cold. That would represent a shock to the system. Brr. I don’t mind the cold as long as I am wrapped up warmly. Obv not in a pool of water. I like the cold when winter sets in and I am forced to sit by the warm fire snoozing. I occasionally wake to shove another log on and then drift off again.

Of course it is only safe to do this if you have a fireguard. Especially when using wood. Wood has a mind of its own.  Crackles and spits though you can minimise this by using decently seasoned stuff.

Back to the rain before I totally move off the subject the farmers hereabouts will be glad of it. We have had quite a dry spell of late. Oo arr. I follow quite a few farmers on twitter. You follow one and one farmer leads to another as they say in the grain and potato store that is Lincolnshire. They also grow peas. I once rode on a pea harvester. Terrific. Peas are my fave vegetable and I came away with tow carrier bags full. Gave one to the mums at the Joanne Haylock School of Dance where my daughter had classes. They divvied the peas up amongst themselves. I kept the other bagfull.

I suspect all the peas are gone now though it is worth asking the question, especially as one of our freezers looks as if it is about to pack in. We have food farmed out to freezers up and down the road. Well one freezer over the road anyway. I think we’ve had that freezer for twenty years or more so it doesn’t owe us anything and we spotted the red light in time. It needs defrosting every year and bizzarely we do it in the middle of winter when it is sub zero outside. We stick all the food in a plastic bin in the back garden and hack away at the ice in the freezer in the garage.

If we get a new freezer that will be one job that won’t need doing next winter. Hooray. It used to get to the point where we had to strap the door shut with one of those straps you use to tie things down on a roof rack, such was the amount of ice in the freezer. The passing of that freezer will not be lamented. No wake. No gathering round the table in the dining room eating cheese and pickeld onions on a cocktail stick whilst drinking the free beer and reminiscing about what a good life old Walter had. A good innings. He didn’t owe life anything or words to that effect. Ya knowworramean.

I never really knew Walter. I just went along for the beer and cheese. And the crisps and sausage rolls of course. I’d quite like a crisp sandwich but I don’t think it’s the done thing at someone’s wake. You can never really tell what flavour the crisps are either – usually plain or salt and vinegar. A crisp sandwich needs to be made with cheese and onion crisps, or beef and it’s no good using the French bread that they usually put out on the buffet table. Needs to be sliced white or a nice fresh white sandwich loaf. Not really good for you anyway though that would never have worried Walter if I know the old boy. Oo what am I saying. I didn’t really know him. He was a passing acquaintance.  A friend of a friend who I occasionally saw in the street shuffling in the other direction in his overcoat and flat cap.

The nice thing about living in Lincoln is that you can just nip up to the Bailgate and see loads of people you know on the way. Not always but often. That sounds like someone’s catchphrase. A cheeky chappie who served his apprenticeship in variety and in the northern clubs before making it to the bright lights of London and getting top billing at the Palladium.

I liked his movies. Used to be on BBC2 on a Sunday afternoon when I woz a kid. Made a change from Lucille Ball. Most of you won’t have heard of Lucille Ball. Yes you, the growing number of people below a certain age. That age changes all the time. Goes up. The only way is up, baaaby.

I’m getting confused. Confused of Lincoln. Walks off in a random direction as if lost.

3rd Law Part 40 here

3rd Law Part 42 here

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3rd Law Part 40 – death by falling piano

Tuesday, June 11th, 2013

There’s a trombone in my ear. Not literally. I’d either have to have a huge ear or it would be bruised from the slider on the trombone bashing it every time it slid in and out, or out and in, #yaknowworramean. Sometimes it’s a trumpet in my ear. There’s no way I can tell which it’s going to be because I’m in another room. It’s a lot more trumpet than trombone because that’s just the way it is. In our house. Might be different elsewhere. Maybe an euphonium/flute combo or piano/comb and paper. Having a piano in my ear is a totally different prospect again. Terminal quite possibly.

Piano on my foot is far more likely. Still pretty painful but given the choice I’d have a piano on my foot rather than in my ear any day of the week. Any road up “Do you know the piano’s on my foot.” “No. You hum it and I’ll join in”. The old ones are the best aren’t they? Perhaps not always but we like to think so.

Given the choice I’ve always said that the way I want to leave this mortal coil, shuffle off as they say, is death by piano. I have some pretty specific caveats. The piano must be jettisoned from a hot air balloon desperately trying to gain height. I would be stood directly under said balloon and therefore under the falling piano, accounting also for windage which wouldn’t amount to much considering the likely weight of the piano. If the wind was strong enough to move the piano then they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and take off in the first place. It could of course be the case that a sudden storm hit the area and caught everyone by surprise. Unlikely though. The weather forecast is pretty good these days.

That doesn’t mean to say that whoever was in the balloon was not stupid. I mean who ever heard of someone loading a piano into a hot air balloon in the first place. Asking for trouble. It’s no wonder they found themselves in the position of having to chuck it overboard.

Would be quite interesting to do it as an experiment. Stick a camera on top of the piano to record the fall. One with a transmitter in case the whole camera was smashed to smithereens upon contact with the ground. It would also make a great clanging sound as it hit the deck. The piano that is not the camera. I doubt that you would be able to hear the noise of the camera amongst all that piano clang. The last chord! You’d have to make sure the piano didn’t land on water or over a bog where all you would hear would be a kind of sucking ploppy noise. Not the desired effect at all.

Anyway I’m not going to do it. Tempting fate. Live long and stay happy. Avoid standing under hot air balloons bearing pianos.  That would effectively be the same as saying your balloon is the bearer of bad tidings which is an equally strange concept. Normally bad news travels fast but not in a hot air balloon. It is unlikely that you would use a hot air balloon to carry bad news. I suppose if you were stuck on a desert island and the only transport you had was a hot air balloon you’d have to use it. No choice really. If you tried to swim the sharks would get you or you would tire and drown. Not a nice death. I’d certainly opt for the death by piano option if it was still on the table, or in the balloon.

If the winds were as strong as they sound as if they might be for you to have to jettison the piano that would of course mean that the news would be travelling a lot faster than the normal sedate pace of a hot air balloon, drifting pleasantly across the Masai Mara Game Reserve. Wonderful views though. You can see the vast herds of migrating wildebeest. One of the natural wonders of the world, apparently. Saw it on some nature programme once. I don’t think I’m imagining it. The thing is if the purpose of your journey was to bear bad news you probably don’t want the distraction of watching wildebeest, or elephants or any other of the “big five”.

I once went to a game reserve in South Africa. We all sat in trucks with a cool box full of beer on each row of seats. It was a rugby tour so cool boxes with beer were the natural order of the day. The game reserve wasn’t a huge one but interesting enough. The different predatory animals were kept in separate pens otherwise they would have had to keep replenishing the stocks of antelop, gazelle and whatnot. Whantnot isn’t a type of animal btw. It was meant to denote etcetera etcetera etcetera. I was being kinda lazy just like I was when I replaced “by the way” with btw. Woteva.

Anyway there we were in this game reserve ooing and aahing at the big five and the medium sized everything else when one of the wheels of the truck started to wobble and proceed to nearly fall off. At this point we were in a lion enclosure. All perfectly safe apparently, provided we stayed in the truck drinking beer. Hmm. The driver radioed for a backup and we sat tight. Drinking beer. We did at one point have to get out of the truck. That’s a consequence of drinking beer. You need to find occasional relief. So we all got out and had a team photo. After the relief bit.

Then we got back in the truck and waited for the replacement to arrive which it duly did. As you may have guessed I lived to tell the tale. As I said my fate lies under that piano and not the horrible death by the gnawing of a lion’s jaws. That would not be nice at all. I seem to be going through a morbid patch at the moment don’t I? Sorry but I can’t help it. I don’t know why. I could shell out a fortune for some shrink to make some stuff up about how I must have been influenced by something in my childhood but no way jose am I going to do that. If you think I would do that you clearly don’t know me. I’d expect to get it free on the National Health. Marvellous institution. Won’t have a word said against it even though you now have to pay to park in the visitors car park at the Lincoln County Hospital. It’s a small price to pay…

3rd Law Part 39 here

3rd Law Part 41 here

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Nobody will miss me

Monday, June 10th, 2013

XI can’t got home,
And I can’t stay here;
I have nowhere to hide…
My heart beats faster,
Each day lived in fear.
When the hit-man calls,
You won’t learn what I’ve done.
When the drone strike hits,
Nobody will miss me.

I spilled your secrets,
Put at risk your defence;
The valiant protectors of state,
Don’t like it up ’em;
At great expense,
They will get me;
With a bullet, a toxin,
A false charge or a blast;
I can’t hide.

Though I thought I could,
I can’t lay low;
The worst, worst option:
A nonentity erased.
Nobody will know,
So I’ll tell you myself.
The whole world can’t guard me,
But my guardians may witness,
How they destroy me.

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Mr Blue Sky

Sunday, June 9th, 2013

I had to upload this photo as a contrast with the shot from the summit of Snowdon last weekend. It was, as may be seen, taken in London under clear blue skies. It is a fairly rare sight in the UK. It wouldn’t have been possible last year, partly because it was taken with a Samsung Galaxy S4 which has the capability of using the forward and rear facing cameras simultaneously. I only got that phone a couple of weeks ago. I normally reserve this type of comment for trefor.net.

Philosopherontap is all about where art collides. trefor.net is about fusion of tech. Well now you are seeing art colliding with technology.

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3rd Law Part 39 – musical detritus

Sunday, June 9th, 2013

The table is littered with musical detritus.  A mute, a folder of music and a trumpet case that presumably contains a trumpet because I can’t see it on its stand. There are also two trumpet mouthpieces and, for what it’s worth, a vuvuzela. I must have bought the latter in a rush of blood sometime because it makes an infernal noise. I nearly forgot there is also an orange pbone which is a plastic trombone.

The pbone is quite a fun instrument. It plays just like a trombone.  Not that I can play it, or the trumpet. They aren’t mine. The guitars are mine. One in its case and the other on the stand next to the sax which is also not mine.

We do have a reasonably musical family although my efforts are somewhat pathetic compared to what some of the kids can do. My sister Sue is also a very good musician. Violinist. It comes from a misspent youth playing away at her violin in her bedroom. When I were a lad I learned to play the guitar instead of revising for my exams. The Beatles mostly though I can also play The House of The Rising Sun and one or two others. I’m terrible for remembering chords though I can usually play ok if I have the music in front of me.

It’s a slight regret that I can’t just pick up an instrument and sit in on someone’s jazz jamming session. In the pub maybe. I have a reasonable voice though I sometimes think I’m tone deaf. It annoys me that I can’t just listen to something and tell what the chord or note is. How we all manage to live through our disabilities. We have to although I’m not so sure that not having a very good musical ear ranks as a disability. Not like only having one leg or being blind.

Those of us who are not one legged or blind (other disabilities are available) are very grateful for the fact mind you. The Paralympics in London in 2012 changed all our perceptions in respect of people with physical disabilities. We should use the example of the paralympians as an incentive to look after our own bodies. I’ve had a dodgy foot for the last two weeks which has been hard enough, or at least a nuisance. It’s getting better now which is a relief for everyone concerned. ie me!

Note I didn’t say blessed relief there. Didn’t feel like it. I’m not in to blessings and stuff like that anyway. Smacks too much of a priest laying hands on me. I can sort it out meself thanks of at least I can call the AA. I’m a member. I get my membership as part of my bank account which is quite handy. I get a load of other benefits as well. Travel insurance for example. Used to get free entry to airport lounges but that has finished. I don’t think I flew anywhere in all the years that lounge entry was part of the deal. It doesn’t come free of course. I pay for it but presumably I must think it’s worth it. Never really checked.

I’m not particularly financially minded. Money isn’t a motive although obv we all need money to live on. I seem to spend all of mine. Never been able to save a bean. I’m not really into material goods. I prefer to spend my money on improving the quality of live. A better bottle of wine for example. Nice bread, a decent steak. You know the sort of thing.

I like my steaks rare. Just so’s you know.

3rd Law Part 38 here

3rd Law Part 40 here

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3rd Law Part 38 – tennis balls and chocolate coloured paint

Sunday, June 9th, 2013

The sun is doing its level best to peek through the clouds. Struggling mind you. I have a warm cup of tea in my hand which helps to warm one hand up but we all know what happens to warm cups of tea where the 3rd Law is concerned. It will be cold very soon. I might make another.

I do have to pop out this afternoon to buy the milk that I forgot to buy when I popped out this morning to buy milk. Came back with lots of good stuff for tea but no milk. Also I want to buy a job lot of cheap tennis balls. We have been playing cricket in the back garden and have lost every single ball in the house. Used to have loads of them. We still have real cricket balls but there is no way we are going to use them in the back garden. Recipe for disaster.

I did buy the kids 5 real cricket balls. Very handy for when we go to the nets. We lost one within 5 minutes of using them. Didn’t fancy looking in amongst the nettles when we were only wearing shorts. We quite like going down the nets. I throw a few balls down. No bowling. I’m rubbish at bowling. Throwing from close range is far more accurate and a test for the batsman. Then after a sensible amount of time we go and sit in front of the clubhouse and watch the game in the middle. It’s good when we win though tbh it almost doesn’t matter. The good bit is just sitting there taking in the relatively slow pace of the game. V relaxing.

There are occasions when someone brings sandwiches around together with other left overs from the players’ tea. We have been known to fill up on the sandwiches, pork pies and cakes before heading home for our own meal. I used to take the kids to the ground in the winter. Both rugby and cricket were played there so there was all year round sport.

The deal with the kids was that they could have anything they liked, within reason, provided I was allowed to have a few undisturbed beers with my pals. It’s an ideal place for the kids to run wild with lots of other kids there and no doubt one or two more responsible parents keeping an eye on them. Chocolate was off the menu but crisps, peanuts and fizzy drinks were allowed. The problem with this arrangement was that they never had much of an appetite when they got home and their mother would wonder why they didn’t each much of their evening meal. It’s all part of growing up!

When I used to play rugby the combination of 80 minutes of effort on the pitch together with a few sherberts usually resulted in me falling asleep on the settee after we had finished our meal. There were a few knock on effects of this. First of all we soon stopped asking people around for dinner on Saturday nights and in turn stopped being asked. This is because I would always fall asleep. It was probably embarrassing for Anne but there was nothing that could be done about it other than not play rugby. It would be perfectly ok if dinner was with someone else who played rugby because both males would fall asleep. It wasn’t just me. It is standard practice in the rugby fraternity.

There was one occasion where I was about to nod off and Anne insisted that I helped her chose the paint colour for the front room before I did so. I argued that the reason that I didn’t contribute to  these decisions was because Anne always ignored my suggestions and ended up choosing what she had originally wanted in the first place. Ergo no point in me thinking about it. I was ok with this situation. I didn’t really care how the house was decorated anyway.

On this occasion she persevered and I chose a yukky chocolatey brown, just to make a point. “That’s fine, we’ll have that” she said. At this point I admonished her as I had just chosen the most horrible colour I could find. Turns out it wasn’t chocolatey brown but terracotta which apparently was all the rage at that time. Hmm. I turned over and went to sleep.

The following weekend I got home from the match, ate dinner and, you know by now, went to sleep. I woke up a couple of hours later to find that Anne had gone and painted the front room whilst I slept. The verdict? A horrible chocolatey brown. It didn’t look good but fortunately the next day when the paint had dried it looked ok. Men huh?! Women Huh?!

It would be reasonable to think that after my rugby playing days were over the falling asleep on the settee by 8pm became a thing of the past. Unfortunately instead of playing rugby I would go and watch it. This had the side effect of me being in the bar by half time and therefore starting on the beer much earlier than had been the case. Although I didn’t have the same on pitch exertion to tire me out its replacement with several additional beers ended up with the same result.

Nowadays if we are off out on a Saturday night early doors beers need to be avoided. You know it makes sense.

Back to the present there is a boy mowing the lawn for a quid which apparently includes laying out the cricket square. I need to pop out to get some tennis balls. Ciao baby.

3rd Law Part 37 here

3rd Law Part 39 here

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3rd Law Part 37 – 18th birthday parties and signs of age

Sunday, June 9th, 2013

There’s a metal sign in our garden. It’s black and heart shaped and has the number 18 painted on it. It’s a hangover from our daughter’s 18th birthday party. Not hangover in a bad way you understand, as if we had drunk too much. It was put there on the day of the party and there it has stayed. When I look at the sign it makes me smileJ

She’s away at university now and still comes home during the holidays, unlike her older brother who only comes back when his mother cracks the whip. I don’t mind. I’m sure I used to spend a lot of my time away during the holidays. I once persuaded mam and dad to fund an extra week’s hall fees so that I could “do some work”. I spent the whole week in the pub and it was only on the Sunday night that I decided to knuckle down and actually do something. Ten minutes after I had sat down at the desk there was a knock at the door and there were mam and dad. “Surprise! We didn’t think we’d actually find you working”. As a treat we headed off to the Black Bull in Beaumaris for a slap up steak dinner. It was many years before I told them the truth.

I graduated in 1983. 30 years later our firstborn is about to do the same. His time at University has been productive. Not too much work though probably significantly more than I did. Having said that I did an engineering degree which had 27 hours of timetabled work in the second year. That’s a full time job.

I lived a two minute downhill sprint from the engineering department. I had everything timed to perfection. Get up at the last possible minute, swift breakfast then a sprint down the hill. I used to  have the same thing for lunch every day. Breaded lamb cutlet and chips from the chippy on the High Street. Why change a winning recipe?

When I finished my degree I didn’t particularly want a job though I did apply for an engineering position at the Beeb.  I went for a look around the local BBC studio and the guy there told me every single question that I would be asked at interview. It took several months for the offer of an interview to come through by which time I had forgotten everything. Ah well. The roll of the dice.

If you’re gonna gamble make sure you use your own dice. Words of wisdom. Must have been some really streetwise geezer who thought that one up. Probably a mobster or similar though I imagine a mobster would just point his tommy gun at you and tell you to hand over your wallet. There’s a lot to be said for electronic money. You can’t hand it over though someone could hack your account. Be careful not to disclose your passwords to anyone. Even your mam. She wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway. At least my mam wouldn’t.

It’s my dad who spends the time on the computer. They were fairly advanced in signing up for a broadband line when they retired. Now dad is on Skype and Facebook though I doubt he ever uses it. I signed him up for both. He has the iPad apps and could sit there chatting to his grandchildren. It will take time but he’ll get there. After all he is only 79. My grandmother was 89 when she died so in theory he should do better.

Imagine a 79 year old’s school report. Must do better. Shouldn’t have left his homework on the bus. Number 79 from Carmarthen to Llanelli via Cross Hands. Might not have been a number 79 though there is a finite probability that it was. When dad were a lad they used to go on a charabanc every year to Aberystwyth for miner’s fortnight. The miners would be in the pub from very early on departure day. Things haven’t changed. Two weekends ago I went to Twickenham on a stag weekend. The beers were opened at 7.45am. It was a steady day of it. Nobody got drunk. We’re too old for that sort of thing now.

I did see something on Facebook this morning. BBC Lincolnshire asking what were the signs of age that fans had seen. For me it was having to have varifocal lenses in my specs. Cost a fortune, partly because my prescription is so strong I have to pay extra to get the thinner lenses. Otherwise I’d be wearing jamjar bottoms. At the barbers this morning, Antonio’s on Burton Road, I noted the fact that once my specs were off I was in Antonio’s hands. Couldn’t see a thing. There’s a trust relationship a punter has with his barber (or hairdresser, hairdresser is fine, not my cup of tea but who am I to comment). We even started talking about where I was going on my holidays! Wtf?

That isn’t a blokey thing to talk about. Problem is I don’t want to talk about football. I doubt that Antonio reads the same stuff as me though I’ve never asked him. I know that in his youth he was a singer in a band in Lincoln. Not bad. It only came out because when I was waiting one day I heard him discuss it with another customer.

There are two barber’s chairs at Antonio’s. Him and a sidekick whose name I have never gleaned. Antonio is fast. The sidekick is slow. You want Antonio. He can’t pay the sidekick that much I’m sure. None of my business. I like a number two back and sides with a trim on top. Zzz, zzz, snip, snip and done.

These days I shave in the shower and I’ve noticed that the sideburns on the left side of my face grow longer than on the right. This is because I shave right handed. I don’t actually have sideburns but by the time it comes to the next haircut I very much have a left side sideburn. No worries. It’ll be trendy one day.

Some of my clothes are so old they will soon be back in fashion as well. When I was a kid I desperately wanted a pair of parallels. I think my mam relented in the end. Probably as they were going out of fashion.

3rd Law Part 36 here

3rd Law PArt 38 here

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3rd Law Part 36 cold hands and tiddlywinks

Friday, June 7th, 2013

Typing with cold hands is a lot slower going and one is prone to make mistakes. Have you ever noticed? I specifically mention this because my hands are at present cold. It’s been a sunny day but there is an edge to it, especially since next door’s sycamore tree is casting a substantial shade over the conservatory.

The weekend est arrivee as they say in Paris, and Perpignan. Tools have been downed and I’m in for a bit of relaxing third law, some mental escapism. Is all escapism mental anyway? I suspect there is strong mental element to it. We all like to dream. I’m a dreamer. Why not?

Although life is wonderful sometimes the real world needs hiding from. You only have to look at the news. Ever noticed that the news is normally mostly bad news? Who needs it? Just switch off that damn telly will you?

I’m sat in the kitchen because cooker is on and it is giving off heat. The hands are slowly warming up. I’ve donned a pair of socks. On my feet not my hands. If I put socks on my hands I probably wouldn’t be able to type at all, let alone slowly. Counterproductive. Socks on hands.

Mind you there are occasions when socks on hands are lifesavers. In Antartica for example. If you went to Antartica and forgot to take your gloves you wouldn’t last long. In that scenario it would be very useful to wear a pair of socks on your hands. A few pairs even, depending on how thick the socks were. Make sure you still have a pair or two for your feet though because taking your socks off your feet to warm up your hands would mean your feet get cold which is no good either.

If you haven’t got enough spare pairs of socks and can’t borrow any from anyone else then the only sensible recourse is to turn around and head for home. As quickly as your sock encrusted feet will carry you. And make sure you don’t touch any bare metal with your bare hands. Bad news.

There I go again. Talking about bad news. Move on Tref baby. Move on. I only used Antartica as an example, like I said. An extreme one. It could have been any other cold place, like Farenheit’s shed or wherever it was he discovered that you could go colder than zero degrees centigrade. Must have come as a big surprise to find out that you could get colder than nought degrees. Bet he chuckled to himself and said “hey hey hey, wait until I tell the boys about this”.

The boys in question, and I can’t say I’m absolutely certain about this, would have been his fellow scientists at the local science club. They meet at the local church hall on every third Thursday of the month unless it is a Bank Holiday.  Quite interesting, the stuff they talk about. How to turn corned beef into gold. The difference between green flux and pink flux, whatever they are. And don’t ask me why I said corned beef. It just came out that way. Lead would have been more believable although lead is a fairly expensive metal itself. Not as expensive as gold mind you which is ridiculously expensive.

Gold has also caused lots of problems. Wars and small scale armed robberies. When I say small scale I do not seek to minimise the impact of the armed robbery itself. It can’t be very nice to be subjected to an armed robbery. “Hands up or I’ll shoot” or “hands up and you are mincemeat” or words to that effect. I’d stick my hands up pdq. Innit?

It isn’t just gold that robbers so armed robberies for. Sometimes it’s cash, I assume or broccoli. You’d want to be a pretty desperate armed robber to commit such a heinous crime for the sake of a crown of broccoli. Desperate or totally thick which isn’t out of the question. I imagine most armed robbers end up getting caught. They got all the great train robbers in the end didn’t they? I dunno.

I’ve never considered doing an armed robbery myself. I was well brought up. I know the difference between right and wrong. Make love not war. Man. My parents didn’t specifically put it like that but they’d probably agree with me.

Cut to a flashback from Tref’s childhood

Little Tref: “Dad is it ok if I take my cowboy gun down to the post office and do an armed robbery. I need some money for sweets”.

Dad: “No son. Armed robbery isn’t right. People would be frightened for their lives and someone would be deprived of their money”.

Little Tref: “Oh really? Ok then dad, I won’t”.

End of flashback

I do remember having a cowboy outfit when I was a kid. I had a pistol and a holster. Think I might have had a rifle too.  I remember once having my photograph taken by a parent and putting some dust in the barrel of the gun so that it looked like smoke coming out. Disappointingly it wasn’t visible in the photo. We lived in a council owned house with a tennis court out the back. I don’t think the net was there anymore.  I would have been too small to play tennis anyway. Probably wouldn’t have been able to see over the net. Happy days.

Now I have problems, worries, things that keep me awake at night. Actually I don’t particularly. That isn’t to say I don’t wake up in the middle of the night sometimes. Often due to the consumption of beer the previous evening. When I do wake up I sometimes pick up the phone and watch the Twitter stream.  Because most of the people I follow on Twitter are in the UK there isn’t very much action there in the middle of the night.

When I started out on Twitter I followed a load of Americans. It didn’t take me long to realise that this was a mistake. I’ve nothing against Americans but culturally their tweets were different to mine. Talk about going to the mall or grade school or who the Pirates are playing today. Don’t ask me who the Pirates are or what sport they are playing. I just made the name up though there could well be a team called the Pirates. Sounds as if they should come from Pittsburgh or Pensylvania. Not Penang though because that’s not in America. It’s in Malaysia. I know my geography. Unlike the pool attendant who I chatted with at a hotel in San Jose once. He asked me where I was from and I told him “The UK”. “Is that near London” he said. Hey!

I spend quite a few evening unfollowing those Americans. There isn’t a block unfollow tool on Twitter. Took me ages. Worth it in the end though. I still follow some Americans. Have to have someone to keep me entertained during those middle of the night sleepless vigils.

When you wake up too early and then nod off again that’s the best bit of sleep I find. It’s a real result. V refreshing. The dreams you have during that time are the best. Not that I can ever remember them.

I wrote a poem once about surfing the internet when my eyes were closed. There were screens on the inside of my eyelids. Cool or what? I once woke up with my eyes closed. I remember saying to myself “hey I’m awake but my eyes are closed”. Cool huh. Anne would never have found out though in actual fact she was probably asleep herself even though she is a light sleeper. It’s a totally useless fact anyway. Never going to appear in a pub quiz. And I don’t like pub quizzes. They are full of questions about football and TV soaps and other subjects I absolutely know nothing about.

The one quiz question answer that sticks in my mind is “Also sprach Zarathustra”. Not sure if I got the spelling right there. Actually I’m not even sure I know what the question is. Something to do with music but no idea who or what. Just sounded like a handy answer to me. Far more interesting that “Eastenders” or “Manchester United”.

I have to tell you that I have only watched Eastenders once or twice ever. And then probably not the whole programme. How people can waste their time on rubbish I will never know. Far better to spend it writing sections of the 3rd Law. Far more useful. I’ve watched Manchester United a few times. On the telly. Not that I am a Man U fan or even a football fan. It’s just that when you are a sportsman you watch sport, whatever that sport is. Even tiddly winks. Though I don’t think they televise tiddlywinks. Maybe I should suggest it to Skysports.

Actually no. It needs to be a free to air channel. I don’t pay for my TV, apart from the TV License. I certainly wouldn’t pay to watch tiddly winks. I just said that for effect. I can see you all now. “TIDDLY WINKS TF?!!!”

Hey. It takes all sorts.

3rd Law Part 35 here

3rd Law Part 37 here

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Written by hand

Friday, June 7th, 2013

XSend me a letter written by hand;
Ink won’t betray,
Or misunderstand.

In a land where they watch:-
Watch what you send;
And send what you watch:-
To see what you like.

Watch what you like,
To guess what you think…

Think what you read is their concern;
Concerned what you think, or what you might learn.

What you buy,
What you eat;
How you vote,
Who you meet…

What you spend,
What you earn;
So machines can learn.

Your fate laid out in trillions of dots;
Incomplete logic could cost you your job.

No credit,
No loans;
No access,
No-flying…

Remember this,
As the ink is drying.

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3rd Law Part 35 – the evolution of crystal

Wednesday, June 5th, 2013

Crystal

A random word found in a “word” document used to check its spelling

Chrystal

An alternative spelling of crystal

I’m not sure whether the two spellings have different meanings. By rights they should have. What’s the point of being able to spell the same thing in more than one way?  I suppose we could be seeing evolution happen in the language right before our eyes. If so which version is the evolved version?

I don’t really care. I’ve set off down a line of discussion to which I have no attachment. It attracts me not. That’s a new kind of flower. An evolution from the “forget me not” which is also one of the standard knots that boy scouts learn to tie when they first enter the movement. Not really but I thought it sounded good.

My kids were in the scouts. It’s a great organisation. I used to go along to the annual group camp. At the beginning a beaver has to have a parent/guardian in tow to take responsibility for him or her. Then as the kids moved up into cubs and could go on camp unaccompanied the dads were still allowed to go along. This was great fun because an unattached dad did not have to take part in any activities and was put in a separate area of the campsite away from the others which meant we could sit  around all day drinking beer if we so chose.

Beer seems to be a common thread in all this 3rd Law stuff. Ah well. Life is short. Ya gotta do stuff. Ya know the 3rd Law does have some deeply philosophical aspects. I’m not sure I understand much of it but perhaps all will be revealed in the process of writing the book. I could have said “during the book writing process”. Would have been a more succinct way of putting it.

The whole book thing is also about researching a subject. Laws of tinternet don’t just get discovered overnight. They are often the result of painstaking research over years, much of which is spent in a laboratory on a scientific campus. That isn’t true when it comes to the 3rd Law which was a bit of an Eureka moment. However to fully understand such a law takes time. In a sense that is a contradiction to what the 3rd Law is all about but that is one of the great things about it. Its natural beauty. On the one hand the 3rd Law steals your time but on the other hand you need time to understand it. Wonderful.

Another thing that could do with clarification is whether the 3rd Law is a scientific/engineering type of law or whether it is a philosophical law. I’m inclined to go for the former, being a technologist but the whole Philosopherontap side of me says it must fundamentally be a philosophy, or at least represent a philosophy. I don’t even know whether philosophies have laws or whether a philosophy is a law in itself. Gosh, interesting.

One thing that surprises me is that I don’t lie awake at night wondering about the First and Second Laws of the Internet which as you know, at the time of writing, have not yet been discovered. You might ask yourself why the 3rd Law was not called the First Law. The truth is I don’t know. I just don’t know. I can’t explain it. It makes the whole subject even more mysterious and intriguing.

I wonder who invented the word intrigue. It is a good word. Better than crystal (or chrystal – you chose) I think though it is unfair of me to make comparisons. It’s the old apples and pears argument. Like for like. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth though you might be at a disadvantage if you had no teeth. Or at an advantage maybe. The preference for particular words is very subjective or, for those struggling with the difference between subjectivity and objectivity, highly personal. That’s what I think anyway.

I quite like the fact that you can play with words. Also I’ve just noticed that I’ve spilled some natural yoghurt down the front of my jumper. I often do that sort of thing. There’s any number of ties I’ve ruined because of it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t wear ties. That and because I’m a reb. I have also, I regretfully must admit, ruined a fair few good shirts by spilling curry down them. Curry stains are a nightmare to get rid of. As bad as red wine if not worse. At least with red wine there are actions you can take in real time to minimise the damage like covering the stain with salt or pouring white wine onto it. I’m not a big fan of the latter. Why waste more good wine when you have already wasted some of the red.

I realise that neither wine is guaranteed to have been good but I am assuming that for the most part any person or persons intelligent enough to read this book will know their wines. I prefer red to white myself but it’s horses for courses. Innit? In all fairness to you you could be simply experimenting with wine for the first time though this I doubt very much (wink wink). There is also the scenario that you don’t want to pay the rip off prices they charge for wines in restaurants and in any case it almost doesn’t matter what sort of wine it is if you are eating curry. You should be on lager with curry anyway.

Curry is a particular fave of mine though I wouldn’t want it all the time. You have to ring the changes. Have a bit of variety in your life. Try a light chicken salad with some fresh lettuce and tomatoes from the garden. You should consider a French dressing or maybe just a simple balsamic vinegar and olive oil mix.

You really do get what you pay for with balsamic vinegar btw. There’s a lot of rubbish out there. Investing in some good stuff will be worthwhile. It’s the same for a lot of things I suppose though nothing particularly springs to mind. Nothing jumps out of the page at me, grabs my tie, pulls me towards it and says to my face “use me as an example”. Couldn’t anyway because as you already know I don’t wear ties.

That isn’t to say I don’t wear bow ties. I quite like bow ties. Distinctive. I’ve got a few and none of them have any curry, gravy or red wine stains on them for obvious reasons. You will need to work that one out for yourself. This is not kindergarten, or nursery school as it is more likely to be called here in Lincoln (Lincolnshire). Grabbing my bow tie would be a lot harder. You would probably find yourself scrabbling around trying to get a grip. There is also a fair probability that the tie would just undo itself and come away in your hands. That wouldn’t provide the assertive effect you were after in trying to grab the tie in the first place. You would look a bit stupid and maybe even find yourself backing away a bit sheepishly, letting the tie drop to the floor before turning and fleeing as fast as your pathetic feet can carry you. Loser.

Getting quite the aggressive one there aren’t I? Well sometimes things just snap inside. You say to yourself “that’s it, enough is enough, I can’t take any more of this drivel.” Yea well that is simply just how it is. Like it or lump it.

3rd Law Part 34 here

3rd Law Part 36 here

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