Author Archive

The god of bowling is called Dave

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

There is nothing else to say on this subject. Dave looks down from his place above ten pin bowling alleys everywhere and decides on the outcome of an individual ball.

There are times when you think a ball is a sure fire strike but Dave thinks differently and leaves the two end pins upright. It is impossible to then knock over both pins with the second ball unless your name is Fred Flintstone.

If Dave doesn’t like you your balls are destined for the gutter that runs alongside the very slippery main bit that you’re meant to roll them down.

It is possible to partly defy Dave by using the rails that stop the ball from going off the main slippery bit. However this does come at a price as people that use the rails are considered to be real woosses unless they are under the age of five.

Dave is never very impressed if you score less than a hundred although quite frankly who cares. Anyone who is good at ten pin bowling has to be in need of a life and probably has all the gear including a special bag for their own bowling ball and a tailored bowling shirt.

Dave can shove off.

The rules of Shuttleswap.

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

The basic game shall consist of two players sat side by side. Each player shall have a badminton racket and one shuttlecock between them.

The rackets are held out in front of the players with a flat surface facing upwards. One player has the shuttlecock on his racket with the rubbery bit that you hit facing upwards. That player attempts to flick the shuttlecock onto the racket of his opponent.

Should the shuttlecock bounce on the neighbouring racket but not stay on then a single point is earned. A shuttlecock that stays on the opponents racket earns five points.

The game is played for a predetermined time agreed between the players with the winner being the person with most points at the end of that time.

There are no other rules though these may appear as the game evolves and matures.

V3 Mulsanne Park – sporting triumphs and utter dejections

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

When our third child was quite young he went along to Saturday morning football at Mulsanne Park. We were never sure whether Mulsanne rhymed with frying pan or window pane. I was of the former camp but others in the family claimed the latter. Being of all seeing all knowing disposition I am of course right though the argument was never truly settled and I doubt that anyone cares or even realises it was an issue.

The boy was never going to make it as a footballer. I recall a beautiful spring day when the sun was shining and for once it was a pleasure to have to perform parental duties and take him and his pals out to Nettleham. There have been other times when the icy blast of a gale blowing across from the Urals  made me wonder why he wasn’t more interested in jigsaws as a hobby but this was not one of them. It was a perfect day for football.

Conditions that are right footballing are also ideal for other activities. At Mulsanne Park these conditions are, where the parents are concerned, good for sipping a cup of tea purchased from the pavilion and chatting with other parents. Some people are more interested in following the on field activity and I must say that to some extent I fall into this camp. However I do feel that I can with a degree of concentration adequately multitask and also drink tea and chat. I know not what the chat is about – as far as multitasking is concerned “remembering” is one task to far.

You should know I am not one of those competitive parents who shout instructions from the sideline and remonstrate with the ref when he thinks that a decision has not gone the right way. Still I do like to celebrate the on-pitch success of the boy. I can be very loud in my appreciation. No wilting lilly I.

This brings me to the other point about ideal footballing conditions and that is what is good for football is also good for spring growth. In the case of Mulsanne Park this might be a renewal of activity in the hedgerows and also on the playing surface itself. We like the new growth in the grass even though it means work for the lawnmower.  Unfortunately grass isn’t all that grows on a football pitch. Daisies also flourish.

On the beautiful day in question the lad was dawdling in the outfield and his attention was caught by a certain daisy. This daisy must have been a fast grower because the pitch had not long been mowed. The daisy clearly merited closer inspection.

Now one of the aspects of the game of football is that people run around the field kicking the ball this way and that and there is a good change if you stand in one spot that the play will eventually come your way. On this occasion with daisy inspection in full flow the opposition winger came thundering towards my lad who was totally oblivious to anything other than the daisy. The winger shot past and with only the keeper between him and stardom made certain of his place on the scoresheet and no doubt of lasting fame in the history of Nettleham Under 6’s football.

The boy looked up and trotted over to some other part of the pitch, neither jubilant nor utterly dejected.

 

Lincoln A to Z – G10 the problem seed

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

a stroke of the pen,

global game

empire and politics

arbitrary decisions

divided peoples

straight lines

far off rulers

hewing of nations

fields of Fen Farm

North Kesteven Lincoln – Lincoln North Kesteven

just like that

goat on lawn keeps down grass

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

I look into the mirror in the bathroom and I see an unshaven man. Day four without a shave. There is an inflexion point between stubble looking untidy and starting to look rugged. I’m not at the rugged bit yet in my view. Standing close to the mirror is quite revealing. Bags, lines, pores, grey hairs, maybe even a slight hint of receding hairline.

Not sure about that last one. My dad has a full head of hair at seventy nine. It may be my fertile and excitable imagination. I quite like the grey hair bit. Distinguished. There is also sleep in my eyes. It is early. My hair stands up in the mornings. I like it short, number two back and sides with a trim on top. I never comb it. It’s always interesting to see men comb their hair. Some take quite a bit of care over it. Strange I think, perfect combed hair in a man. It isn’t important to me.

Unshaven must mean I am on holiday. I often don’t shave at weekends. It’s a hangover from my rugby playing days when it was important to look tough during a game. I also used to think that shaving might tenderise the skin which is clearly no good before an eighty minute punch-up with a sliver of orange at half time. That sliver of orange used to make me thirstier during the second half as it contained sugar. Nowadays they bring on water at half time and during stoppages. Far more sensible.

They have stopped communal baths though which is taking being sensible too far. Baths were part of the institution of the game. The fact that the water was often filthy was neither here and there. It was always possible to have a shower after the bath. Now health and safety, or at least hygiene has kicked in and the communal bath is no more.

I rarely have a bath these days. Maybe as a bit of a treat on a cold winter’s evening with some of my favourite listeninthebath music. Pink Floyd, Joe Jackson maybe. Sometimes 10cc or ELO although these are not relaxing, more the kind of stuff to liven you up.

I take a book to read in the bath. It’s not the easiest thing, keeping the pages from getting wet. Usually the reading lasts until I get fed up with the awkwardness of keeping the book dry. I then toss the book to the far end of the bathroom to keep it away from the place that is likely to get wet when I get out of the bath. The only downside is having to remember where I got to in the book when I resume reading.

I had a little gleam in my eye when I wrote the bit about tossing the book to the “far end of the bathroom”. Gives the impression that the bathroom is huge doesn’t it? I’ll leave it to your imagination. Picture a balcony opening out from the bathroom with views across the east lawn running down to the Witham.

There is a goat on the lawn. It’s the easiest way to keep the grass down.

“c” “a” “r”

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

As I was walking back to the villa from parking the car a man and his toddler were laughing together. For some reason it made me think back to a day on a beach when a similar sized toddler was walking behind his young mother counting his steps. She turned around and said “what are you counting for?”. Unlucky kid.

Purely coincidentally as I approached the end of the walkway a woman was stood in front of the car park sign with her little one. “Oo I don’t know where to go. Where is the car park?” she said. The child pointed and said look “c”, “a”, “r” spelling it out phoenetically. Lucky kid.

Lincoln A to Z J3 – Griffinwood

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

“WARNING – GRIFFINS NESTING”

Entry to this wood is at your own risk. The Department of Magic recommends that only groups accompanied by a certified magical creature expert proceed beyond this point. Whilst under normal circumstances griffins are known to be harmless they are fiercely protective of their young and may attack anyone coming within one hundred yards of a nest.

Under no circumstances should anyone enter during the hours of darkness.

Lincoln A to Z G8 transportation links

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

It all started when us Romans built the Fossdyke. That was the old navigation between Lincoln and the river Trent. It was revolutionary in its day. Represented a dramatic cut in travel time and had a huge effect on trade. You could feel it in the streets around you on your way to the Temple of Minerva. Lincoln was a vibrant place in those days. Plenty of bars and cafes. You could even get wine from Rome and not have to depend on the sweet muck the locals around here liked.

The original Foss Way didn’t go through G8. It wasn’t G8 in those days either. It wasn’t anything really. We didn’t need maps. There weren’t all that many roads and usually you knew which one you needed. It was easy enough to ask if you got lost. If you want to see the original Foss Way it is still there on B21, K16 and L16. Take a look.

The Foss Way got called the A46 some time ago. Could well have been when they started drawing up these maps. I suppose they must have had their reasons. The new road would have been built fairly recently. Progress eh? The old one was good enough for us if you ask me.

Sometime before that they built the railway. Now that did cause a stir and a half. Objections everywhere. We didn’t have that problem when we dug the Fossdyke. Who was going to argue? None of this planning permission nonsense that gets in the way of progress, slows down the economic development of a place. No no no.

I was one of those objecting to the railway. After they built it I changed my tune. Marvellous it was. You could get to Newark or Retford in half an hour. Used to be a day’s march. Wow. If we’d have had it in Lindum Colonia we could have got to Newark on the train and spent the rest of the day playing cards or dice or whatever we used to do in those days.

I especially liked the old steam trains. They had character. Not like the modern diesels they have these days. Ok I know the diesels are more practical but the day that steam came to an end we lost something. Change isn’t always for the good. Choo choo.

3rd Law Part 17

Monday, February 18th, 2013

Just installing a piece of software from Dell. I recently upgraded from Windows 7 to Windows 8 and the computer won’t work like it used to. For example I have a SIM in it that needs some driver software call Dell Mobile Broadband Manager. This seems to have disappeared during the upgrade. Dell won’t let me search their website before verifying that I am a genuine customer. The software download is so that it can interrogate me to validate that I am allowed to look for the driver on the Dell website. That’s control for you. So much control that I now have the message “We’re sorry, we encountered a problem and were unable to complete the service tag detection. You can either Try Again or Cancel to select another option.”

Huh. I’m on holiday now. It will have to wait until I get back to work. It isn’t the end of the world as a) I’m supposed to be going offline whilst on holiday and b) I have two phones I can tether the laptop to use for internet access during the week hah – laughs in the face of adversity/authority (delete depending on your mood).

It’s early here in the Davies household and rather than lie in bed waiting for the alarm to go off I’ve decided to get up and let the 3rd law take over. In this case I’m not surfing tinternet I’m writing a bit of the 3rd Law book which seems to work in just the same way. It would seem that the Third Law permeates other areas of life as we know it. Inneresting. There could be a doctorate in this. Taking it to the extreme it could mean a Nobel Prize. Wow. I didn’t realise when I began all this Third Law stuff that it could be so big! It isn’t yet of course but in might be.

I have around 45 minutes before I get up off the settee and make a pot of tea. This is later than is normal but I did say we are on holiday so I am affording us a little lie in. I’m good like that. Generous. Notice that I didn’t say generous to a fault. That would have been going over the top and is really up to others to say. I don’t want to be remembered for being “that guy who used to go around thinking he was generous to a fault.” What a plonker.

I’m not generous to a fault. Happy to give a tip where a tip is deserved and am often being seen to complement someone on their new hairdo – nice words are not hard to come by and if it makes someone’s day then why not. You will have noticed that I kept that bit gender neutral. I didn’t want to be accused of sexism or “being after something”. I’m sure that it is perfectly possible for a bloke to appreciate a nice comment about his hair just as much a woman.

It is more likely that one would comment about a man’s facial hair rather than the stuff on the top of his head. The former will attract statements such as “that’s a fine brush you’ve grown there Martin” whilst the latter is more likely to be in the vein of “thinning a bit on top I see, I’d shave it all off if it was me”. I can see Martin stroking his moustache, rightly proud, whereas the nameless chap in need of a home shaver will have no choice but to agree in a manly but resigned to his fate manner.

Never been into moustaches myself. They are a bit ticklish and I don’t like the way they pick up bits of food. Yuk. Sometimes when we go camping I give myself the week off shaving. I don’t mind a bit of the rugged look when kipping in a tent. It’s all part of the adventure even though we are probably on an organised campsite and pitched in between two large caravans with satellite TV dishes on top where the inhabitants retire every evening to watch a continuous stream of soaps. Huh (to be accompanied by contemptuous sound effects).

There was one year we went camping with a few other families, one of which had a caravan but where all the others were in tents. One morning the skies opened and about a month’s rain fell in two hours. We all huddled under the awning of one tent. The caravan owner, Alistair, was desperate for us to retreat to the comfort of his caravan but we would have none of it. I still have a video of the morning showing a river of water running off the front of the awning. The rain finished and the campsite having the benefit of the good drainage from a sandy soil soon returned to normal. This was in Jubilee Park in Woodhall Spa. Last year we were there and it also rained. I took another video and posted it to YouTube. All it was was water bouncing off the tent. I also decided to monetise the video but got an automated message from Google, or some oik saying that this was an unsuitable video for monetisation! Some people have no idea, or perhaps they were members of the Caravan Club!

We have been camping since time immemorial, the Davies family that is, not the human race. We all know the human race has been living in tents since the dawn of time, or words to that suitably dramatic effect representing the thousands of years of human evolution in a few short words. The Davies family started camping in a borrowed tent when Tom, our first born, was a baby. It was a small tent but we weren’t the family of six that we now are. Having a small baby on our hands we had finished eating and were ready for bed quite early, eight o clock say. I remember playing my guitar inside the tent trying to get him to sleep. It probably looked odd from the outside seeing the tent all closed up with the sound of a lullaby coming from within.

I like to think that my dulcet tones had the right calming effect on the kids though as they grew I did on occasion have to raise the tone to represent slight crossness. Also I’m not sure I know any lullabys on the guitar though it might have been “Summertime” which was one of my staples for singing the kids to sleep. I have been known to sing myself to sleep at the same time especially having just arrived home jetlagged from an overseas trip.

Poor Anne would look forward to my return from these trips having been looking after the kids on her own all week. The funny thing was that I, who would have spent the whole week wining and dining in posh bars and restaurants would be looking forward to a simple meal of beans and toast whilst Anne, who had spent the week living on beans on toast would be after something a little more upscale. Life huh:)

Teatime…

Go to 3rd Law part 16

3rd law part 18 here

3rd Law Part 16 – voicemail

Sunday, February 17th, 2013

Voicemail! It used to be called answerphone but not anymore. Blame it on globalization. I wonder who first thought of calling it that. Presumably someone from a former colony, the good ole u s of a. I don’t mind really though there are some things that could be different. Spellings for one and the fact that quite often when filling in a drop down form online when it comes to the choice of country you often find United States first in the list. Clearly a spelling problem for the software developer who must think that U comes before A though if you follow that logic The United Kingdom, Uruguay and the United Arab Emirates would also be before Australia, Azerbaijan and any other country beginning with the first letter of the alphabet.

There must be another reason that the USA comes first in the list though I can’t for the life of me think what it might be. Must be having a bit of a mental block. Senior moment though obv I’m not old enough to have one of those.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh sorry just nodded off there for a bit. Head must have hit the return button on the keyboard. I’ve probably got a back to front carriage return symbol imprinted on my forehead. I know it doesn’t work like that really but the idea is a goodun. In the old days of the typewriter it couldn’t have happened. As soon as your head hit the keyboard, or whatever it was called way back then, one or more of the metal bits with the letter moulded into the end would have sprang up and hit you in the eye. The resultant sharp pain would almost certainly have woken you up and having cleaned the ink off your face you would have continued typing, clacking away clickety clack clickety clack (for that was the sound of the typewriter dear reader).

Reading that last sentence you could be forgiven for thinking that the sound of the typewriter was very similar to that of a train – many readers will not have heard a typewriter in action except maybe in an old black and white movie film.

Reality is very different. Oh yes. A train sound might be described as a clickety clack clickety clack but believe you me it is a far deeper and more resonant sound than the typewriter. Perhaps it needs a different font. I don’t know. A train would also have the occasional choo choo and chuff chuff slotted into the text so that it would really be quite clear that it wasn’t the sound of a typewriter being depicted on the page.

Both are historical entities now though we still have trains. They tend not to have the chuff chuff bit unless you are at a railway museum so somewhere like that. I quite like going to railway museums and riding on steam trains. I once went on an excursion on the Union of South Africa, the last steam train to leave Kings Cross station on a passenger service. It’s a Gresley A4 Pacific – the same design as the Mallard which still holds the world speed record for a steam train. This particular trip was full of anoraks nerds train enthusiasts who had all brought goggles with them so that they could stick their heads out of the window of the moving train without worrying about the soot and grit from the engine getting in their eyes. It was quite funny seeing their faces covered in black soot but with white bits around the eyes – as if they had been skiing. There was another moment where one of the enthusiasts walked quickly through each carriage telling everyone we had just reached seventy five miles per hour. I don’t think we were meant to be going over seventy so this was extreme flouting of the railway authorities. Huh, come and get us, if you can find us…

As it happens we have a train set laid out in the attic. It’s a big L shaped attic, maybe seven metres by seven metres and the layout itself is around 7 metres by three metres. It doesn’t go around the L shaped bit if you can imagine it. There are three loops so that’s roughly 60 metres of train track and we have a number of engines including, wait for it, The Union of South Africa. Get on!

It doesn’t get played with very much. Building the layout was an excuse for a few beers on a Sunday afternoon whilst listening to some old records. That’s vinyl, not mp3 download, iTunes, shared, pirated, streamed or any other modern format. Ok the occasional LP has a scratch but by and large they are ok.

The deck isn’t in the attic anymore though. One of the kids has it in their bedroom. Retro is cool these days and I do have 250 or so LPs to play including Led Zeppelin’s 4th album in green vinyl. I bought it off my pal Rhys at Bangor University. One of my favourite LPs was Frank Sinatra’s greatest Hits which I left on the deck one day. I got back to my room and the sun had melted it. It was all crinkled. I was gutted. I’ve never been able to find that same record again.

That’s life as we know it Jim. I used to watch that programme as a kid but not kept up with the multitudinous series’ since. What was it called? Star Trek that was it. Sorry if I sound a bit dim there. I don’t keep up with telly stuff.

When we were kids we used to watch a lot of telly. Nowadays the kids get chastised for spending too much time in front of a screen but we used to do it all the time. Ok I also used to read a lot but still watched far too much TV. Saturday mornings were great – White Horses, The Lone Ranger, The Banana Bunch. They don’t make em like that anymore. I have a lot of books these days though I don’t read as much as I used to.

When we started to have kids I began to buy up some of the books of my childhood. I wanted my own offspring to share in my boyhood experience. I gave all of mine away which I regret now. I bought a few Enid Blyton Famous Five’s. My god what drivel! To think I used to love them. It just shows how tastes have changed and also how little literature there was around for kids in those days. Blyton was a pioneer.

Nowadays you can get stuff like Alex Ryder that is truly gripping true to life adventure stuff. Well I know it isn’t really true to life but it all feels totally plausible. You should read one or two – you’ll be hooked. Same goes for Harry Potter who is totally believable. I need to get myself one of those wands. You have to use them carefully though because they can do some pretty powerful stuff. Levitation for example. Never saw any teleporting like they do in Star Trek but I guess Star Trek was (is?) much further into the future where technology is that much more advanced.

Harry Potter is in the here and now. It must be. I’ve seen the sign for platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross Station. QED.

3rd law part 15 here

3rd law part 17 here

The mind wonders

Saturday, February 16th, 2013

Don’t put your hand in the fire Mrs Worthington, don’t put your hand in the fire.

Fuel we have a plenty and the room is warm.

The logs crackle and appear to spring to life for no particular reason.

All is quiet – no sound pervades from the room of TV.

The settees lie empty around the fireplace – they crave occupation.

Two small lights straddle the mantelpiece.

It is still early.

The mind wonders.

Outside the occasional car passes by but not enough to distract or interfere.

Curtains prevent heat escaping through the front window and to the conservatory.

A log falls off the fire and is retrieved – no harm is done.

Somnambulence takes over.

I look around for more.

Hi my name’s Steve and I’m your train guard today.

Saturday, February 16th, 2013

Hi my name’s Steve and I’m your train guard today. Please ensure all luggage is stored safely and securely in the space provided.

The frosted trees of Welwyn

Saturday, February 16th, 2013

The rich folk of the gardens of Welwyn

Think much of their festive frost

And the trees in the parks that surround them

Are painted white and to hell with the  cost

“Big June is Awesome”

Saturday, February 16th, 2013

I don’t know big June but she is awesome, I’m told. The imagination runs wild.

Who is this woman?
Was she born in June?
Why is she “big”?
Is she fat?
Does she have a big heart?
Is she tall?
Is it that her stature in the community has earned her the name?
She must be a helluva woman!

Presumably June is a woman and not just a reference to June as a large month which I don’t think is true?

I’ve had this piece in my philosopherontap folder for years and not done anything with it. It is time Big June was aired. June where are you? What are you doing on this Saturday night in February?

“Big June is Awesome” was the Facebook status of someone I knew at university. It was some years ago. I know no more.

Big June we love ya 🙂

Lincoln A to Z V3 Mulsanne Park – sporting triumphs and utter dejection

Saturday, February 16th, 2013

When our third child was quite young he went along to Saturday morning football at Mulsanne Park. We were never sure whether Mulsanne rhymed with frying pan or window pane. I was of the former camp but others in the family claimed the latter. Being of all seeing all knowing disposition I am of course right though the argument was never truly settled and I doubt that anyone cares or even realises it was an issue.

The boy was never going to make it as a footballer. I recall a beautiful spring day when the sun was shining and for once it was a pleasure to have to perform parental duties and take him and his pals out to Nettleham. There have been other times when the icy blast of a gale blowing across from the Urals  made me wonder why he wasn’t more interested in jigsaws as a hobby but this was not one of them. It was a perfect day for football.

Conditions that are right footballing are also ideal for other activities. At Mulsanne Park these conditions are, where the parents are concerned, good for sipping a cup of tea purchased from the pavilion and chatting with other parents. Some people are more interested in following the on field activity and I must say that to some extent I fall into this camp. However I do feel that I can with a degree of concentration adequately multitask and also drink tea and chat. I know not what the chat is about – as far as multitasking is concerned “remembering” is one task to far.

You should know I am not one of those competitive parents who shout instructions from the sideline and remonstrate with the ref when he thinks that a decision has not gone the right way. Still I do like to celebrate the on-pitch success of the boy. I can be very loud in my appreciation. No wilting lily I.

This brings me to the other point about ideal footballing conditions and that is what is good for football is also good for spring growth. In the case of Mulsanne Park this might be a renewal of activity in the hedgerows and also on the playing surface itself. We like the new growth in the grass even though it means work for the lawnmower.  Unfortunately grass isn’t all that grows on a football pitch. Daisies also flourish.

On the beautiful day in question the lad was dawdling in the outfield and his attention was caught by a certain daisy. This daisy must have been a fast grower because the pitch had not long been mowed. The daisy clearly merited closer inspection.

Now one of the aspects of the game of football is that people run around the field kicking the ball this way and that and there is a good chance if you stand in one spot long enough that the play will eventually come your way. On this occasion with daisy inspection in full flow the opposition winger came thundering towards my lad who was totally oblivious to anything other than the flower. The winger shot past and with only the keeper between him and stardom made certain of his place on the scoresheet and no doubt of lasting fame in the history of Nettleham Under 6’s football.

The boy looked up and trotted over to some other part of the pitch, neither jubilant nor utterly dejected. Sorry if the title was misleading. I set out to write an imaganitive piece of on pitch excitement but that’s not what came out 🙂