tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67773633545633397942024-02-08T14:44:23.264+00:00Morning CoffeeSometimes an espresso shot of common sense in a world gone mad, sometimes a frothy cappuccino of humour.
So grab your cup and stay awhile. Do you take sugar?EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-63635699749592234462009-09-10T12:06:00.002+01:002009-09-10T15:24:30.137+01:00The world is watching and we are behind youAmerican president Barack Obama has made a moving and motivated speech to the house of Congress - a "battle cry" as the BBC news service described it - pushing ahead with health care reforms.<br /><br />It was the Michael Moore film Sicko which first brought home to me the shocking truth that one of the most powerful and influential nations on the planet is still in the dark ages when it comes to health care.<br /><br />It is one of only a handful of developed democracies that doesn't have free health care. It seems an insane idea, that America, the land of the free, the home of Bart Simpson, the country that asks not what can be done for them, is still in a situation where around 70 million people do not have heath insurance. People who, to quote the president "live every day just one accident or illness away from bankruptcy".<br /><br />The speech is great, and I've put a link at the bottom to the full transcript on the BBC website. But the problem is not common sense, or common decency, the problem - as always - is money.<br />The insurance companies make too much money (and fund too many political parties and individuals) to ever let America create a National Health Service.<br /><br />Over the years numerous presidents and politicians (and even a first lady) have tried to champion reforms to America's health care, and each time the money men have - to put it very simply - threatened to take away the slush funds and everything has quietened down.<br /><br />I hope - and if I was religious I would pray - that Obama can wade through this stand off. The American people want it, the world wants it.<br /><br />If he pulls this off he will change the history of the developed world, he will improve the lives of millions of people and he will be remembered forever.<br /><br />And, Mr Obama, you can't put a price on that.<br /><br /><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/8247661.stm">http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/8247661.stm</a>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-61464596733772020092009-09-01T13:56:00.003+01:002009-09-01T17:46:14.863+01:00OAP ASBOs<p>I took a train on Saturday out to England to visit a friend. Being the Bank Holiday weekend the train was naturally very full.</p><p>At Bristol we were besieged by a large group of pensioners, filling the train to bursting. From snatches of conversation I later found out they were on a trip to see the Tattoo in Edinburgh.</p><p>Sat in front of me was a young mother (about 25 years old) with a tiny toddler/baby. She was crammed into two seats with a pushchair, a small suitcase and a bag of bits for the baby.</p><p>An older couple got on the train, they were obviously part of the Tattoo gang, but can't have been more than in their late 50s, and looked very fit and healthy. They proceeded to inform the mother that the seats she was occupying were reserved for them as part of their booking. The couple kicked this young mum and baby off her seat, forcing her to stand at the back of the carriage with baby, pram, bags and all.</p><p>I was furious! I immediately got up to offer the woman my seat. She declined, thanking me for my offer but saying she only had ten minutes to go to her destination.</p><p>I sat back down and noticed that while there were several young people - and even two young men you might describe as 'hoody yobs' to look at - dotted about the carriage, they were all sitting quietly, reading books or newspapers, or listening to music (but quietly enough so that you couldn't hear the tinny noise from the headphones).</p><p>The pensioners on the other hand, were talking loudly across the carriage at one another, getting up and down constantly to access their luggage or go to the toilet. They were talking on mobile phones which rang incessantly. They stuffed their faces with food and drink, and I even saw one old lady throwing a wrapper on the floor. They stuck their legs and bags out in the aisle and generally made as much noise and disturbance as they could.</p><p>Not that I don't have respect for the elderly, but if they had been a group of young people the attitude towards their 'anti-social behaviour' would have been very different.</p><p>Disgusting.</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-88125181951230468342009-08-27T20:56:00.002+01:002009-08-27T20:56:39.702+01:00Is it just me.....<a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/8223528.stm">http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/8223528.stm</a><br /><br />Or is anyone else thinking...PLANT MORE TREES!EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-11349615448253090122009-08-24T20:02:00.004+01:002009-08-24T20:03:42.580+01:00New things I have done this week:<p>Visited the city of Edinburgh (I have been to the airport three times in my life, but never visited the city until this week)</p><p>Watched a comedy show at the Fringe Festival (several actually)</p><p>Been chatted up by a hippy</p><p>Performed at the Fringe</p><p>Had Nepalese food (yum yum)</p><p>Had a Subway sandwich (yuk yuk!)</p><p>Received a good reaction from my performance at the Fringe</p><p>Drank shots in a heavy-metal bar until 4.30am</p><p>Been offered more gigs at the Fringe by the guy who runs the Free Fringe!!!!</p><p>Been chatted up by a 12-year-old</p><p></p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-21580490738554853102009-08-11T14:38:00.007+01:002009-08-12T16:41:10.487+01:00Edinburgh or bust<p>I am taking my comic ramblings to the Fringe Festival next week. I have six half-hour performances scheduled over four days, and also a couple of possible impromptu readings at a restaurant as part of some mates' gigs, and then any other open mic or poetry nights where I can blag, barge and knuckle-dust my way onto the stage. </p><p>Although, I'm not sure about the last bit (not the blagging, barging and kuckle-dusting - I <em>am</em> a journalist after all) but about there being open mic somethings, or other random opportunities. You see, I am, as you might say, a virgin. </p><p>This is my first Fringe and I'm not too sure what to expect.</p><p>I have wanted for years to go, to wander the streets smoking French cigarettes in the sunshine, swigging on my bottle of warm evian and taking in the sights, sounds and smells of people from all over Europe and the world 'being creative'. (Which is usually the smell of sweat, fear, beer and broken dreams.)</p><p>I can't quite believe I'm going to be performing though. I feel like a fraud, like I've managed to slip under the radar. I'll turn up at the Fringe office on the first day to pick up my performance pass and they'll go "Oh yes, EW. We've been waiting for you. We're sorry but there has been a mistake, this is the Fringe, and it's for proper artistic people and skilled, entertaining performers. Never mind, we do hope you haven't travelled far." </p><p>And I'll be standing there in my costume (yes, I have a costume) with my evian going cold in my bag and my French cigarettes will tumble slowly to the ground, one by one, turning over in the air before scattering their filthy tobacco on the cracked floor of my dreams.</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-1863743347036566482009-08-06T17:54:00.005+01:002009-08-06T20:25:11.938+01:00Put right off my, ahem, coffee.I hate to be a wimp, but; eeeeewwwwww.<br /><br />Someone in the Guardian newsroom obviously had a little too much time on their hands today when coming up with this gem of a feature:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/aug/06/peeing-in-shower-rules">http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/aug/06/peeing-in-shower-rules</a><br /><br />A whole page (accessible via a picture and link from the website's FRONT PAGE for goodness sake!) about urinating in the shower; the do's and don'ts.<br /><br />I don't want to read that when I'm tucking into my morning mocha. Quite frankly, I don't want to read that <em>ever</em>.<br /><br />I don't give a s**t (no pun intended) what some twit at the Guardian thinks is good shower etiquette, I don't care what anyone thinks is good shower etiquette. I don't want to think about people urinating in their showers ever, and it certainly shouldn't be given such prominence on a well-respected news website.<br /><br />And to think there are eager young trainee journalists out there hungry for a chance to prove themselves and get a coveted byline while the lazy old hacks churn out this sort of twaddle.<br /><br />Piss off!EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-63907208628230275412009-08-04T16:49:00.004+01:002009-08-04T16:50:30.249+01:00The BIG question....Answer:<br /><br />No, you don't have swine flu.EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-21072133422858168682009-07-30T15:03:00.008+01:002009-08-02T20:52:05.560+01:00Tax dodgersA quick scroll back through some previous posts during my morning coffee break* revealed some particularly negative posts about the recession. (Sorry to be so boring, but this is supposed to be a sort of news-analysis type of blog. EW looks round as several lurkers fall off their chair in surprise.)<br /><br />So why not something positive for once?<br /><br />At least this year's batch of students all have a genuine excuse for not getting a job during the summer holidays. Well done to the dirty, tax-dodging lot of you!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">* Well, I lie. It was last night during my evening glass of wine - as far too many of my post ideas have been lately. Maybe I should change the name of my blog. The glass of wine? Lady in red (wine). (Hmmmm.) Back on the coffee tomorrow I promise</span>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-16060507952639449562009-07-30T14:35:00.009+01:002009-07-30T14:52:07.112+01:00What a difference a recession makesSo holiday season is upon us (well not me, but the credit crunch impervious middle classes) and parents are desperately scrabbling for countries with good exchange rates to drag the kids to for their summer holidays.<br /><br />(I'm not a parent, but I remember being as happy as a pig in s**t as a kid down some rain-swept Welsh beach with a broken bucket and spade - what European art gallery? The Mona what? Can we go back to the beach now?)<br /><br />Gone are the days where luxury and opulence were the topic of conversation at the PTA meeting come September. "Bradley and I thought that extra £200 per person was <em>so</em> worth it for the cruise rooms with the balcony." Not any more.<br /><br />Now it's become chic to go cheap. Budget is the new black and caravans and campsites up and down the UK are full of well-spoken mothers tottering to the campsite shop to ask the "Garson" behind the counter: "And whom do we talk to to get this awful weather changed?"EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-47846975767415491302009-07-28T15:42:00.007+01:002009-07-30T14:56:40.180+01:00Cardiff Cow TippingA group of young teenage boys go into a Greggs pastry shop in a Cardiff suburb.<br /><br />They emerge some moments later and proceed to eat their hot baked treats while dropping and throwing crumbs on to the pavement.<br /><br />Before long a group of six or seven seagulls has landed on the pavement of the busy street to eat the offerings, while several more circle overhead.<br /><br />The noise reaches a crescendo some 30 seconds later, as the skull-cracking shrill of the gulls competes with the sound of traffic and pedestrians and the general bustle of city life.<br /><br />"Watch this," says one of the boys to his mates. Whereby he rips off a sizable lump of pastry from his pasty and throws it - underarm - deliberately into the path of a passing Cardiff City bus.<br /><br />There is an almighty bang (well, louder than you'd expect from two birds being slammed into by a ten-ton bus doing at least 25mph).<br /><br />There was a lot of feathers. And a bit of blood. I laughed.EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-10803039480776434012009-07-27T09:22:00.007+01:002009-07-28T16:02:09.741+01:00With cheese on<p>Invisible custard dragons have grabbed my umbrella, and now it is raining purple poo and it's getting all in my hair!</p><p>This distresses me, not because it is poo, but because it is purple and I don't like purple. And because it's making my hair messy. And because my comb has turned into a brick.</p><p>Not like an artistic, dry-stone something type of brick. But a dusty, concrete-crusted house brick. How boring I think, as I take it out of my pocket and turn it over in my hands. Why would I dream about something as boring as a house brick?</p><p>But there's no time to finish that thought though, because just then the green flags of time start blowing upwards and the sky leaves to chase the sun who is getting drunk at the bar on the corner because they have a good offer on cider.</p><p>Then I wake up, in a hot sweat, and think maybe the cheese before bed was a bad idea. </p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-13630820297003584652009-07-25T09:54:00.002+01:002009-07-25T20:41:51.313+01:00Time travel on my expenses<p>If I have worked the science bit of this blonk thing properly you should be reading this on Saturday. Although I wrote it yesterday; that is today. But you are reading it tomorrow. Which is now today. Hmm. Whenever it was, I had one of those rare double-post-idea days. </p><p><br />If I was a good blogger then I'd just put two posts on my blog in one day and continue as normal. But because I am a half-arsed, too-busy-to-be-imaginative, can't-actually-write-for-toffee, type of blogger, I can't go wasting posts like they were froth on my Saturday morning latte.</p><p><br />So I am hoping some computer jiggery will put this up on Saturday, so good morning to all you lurkers out there. Hope you are having a nice start to your weekend.</p><p><br />The reason for my post today (yesterday, whenever) is that I have been thinking about all this swine flu hullabaloo in the news. In the UK so far, 27 people have died of the virus, which is truly awful, one death, for anything is horrible, and my blonky thoughts go out to their families. But can we have a little <em>perspective</em> please!</p><p><br />12,000 people die a year in the UK of normal flu. 12,000 a year. Every year. Year in, year out.</p><p><br />While we must continue to wash our hands, and all that, against the spread of swine flu, can we please all just calm down a bit. </p><p>Have we forgotten about the heinous MP's expenses scandal? Funny how that has been lost on the breeze like an un-tissued sneeze.</p><p><br />Forget tamiflu, we need a good old dose of common sense.</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-5544140725178131742009-07-24T13:38:00.015+01:002009-07-24T16:46:45.026+01:00Compare the jealous celebrities dot com<p>All hail common sense. </p><p><br />As I grabbed a take-away morning coffee on my way into work today a chirpy young chappy (or it could have been a girl, it's hard to tell Emos apart these days, especially when they're in blue bomber jackets and matching baseball caps) thrust a crisp Metro* into my free hand.</p><p><br />So I stumbled toward work jugging my coffee, bag and metro with my umbrella and jacket - it's British summertime now, which means my half hour walk into work involved three removals and re-wearings of my jacket, getting my sunglasses out twice and opening my umbrella, as the weather changed on a merry-go-round of whim and fancy.</p><p><br />Getting into work and sitting back with my coffee I read with delight that a stuffed animal from a TV advert campaign for car insurance is more popular than a host of top celebrities. The animatronic meerkat with a Russian accent, from the adverts for website compare the market, has a huge online following, including half a million fans on facebook and 200,000 followers on Twitter.</p><p><br />Normally I hate celebrity trash stories, but I LOVE this one. </p><p>To think that talented (and yes, I use the word <em>very</em> loosely) celebrities who have worked so hard shagging producers and directors, thrusting themselves (often half-dressed) into our faces with such aplomb for the coverted celebrity prize of being this week's glossy spread in a weekly magazine... have been gazumped by a stuffed rodent in a dressing gown.</p><p><br />Ha ha ha ha. The fickle world of the fake celebrity. Maybe he'll appear in Celebrity Big Brother this year? </p><p></p><p><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*</span><em><span style="font-size:85%;">For anyone outside the UK, the Metro is a free newspaper distributed in the centre of large cities, and throughout the London underground network. Aimed at working young professionals it's remit is to be a "15 minute digest of the day's news".</span> </em></p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-34941707865531896952009-07-23T15:12:00.003+01:002009-07-23T16:25:40.257+01:00Fighting talk - another week of shame<p>Two figures from opposite sides of the celebrity sphere are in court in England this week, both facing allegations of violence.</p><p><br />England and Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard has admitted hitting a reveller in a nightclub in Liverpool after a row over music - although the star footballer is insisting the act was self-defence. While across the country in London, Back to Black singer Amy Winehouse has appeared in court to face charges of hitting a woman who had asked her for a photograph.</p><p><br />Now celebrities in court is nothing new, but while we are used to the usual forays into drug use, drink driving and the like, acts of violence are not so common.</p><p><br />There are so many examples of famous celebrity brawls that I can't list them all here. The first two that spring to mind are Liam Gallagher and Jamiroquai's hat-wearing JK lashing out at photographers in the 90s. But it's usually a day's worth of blurred and bloodied photographs in the tabloids and doesn't end up in court.</p><p><br />Drugs and wild nights flashing your boobs are one thing. But it is a sad state of affairs to see two young (29 and 25) role models in court for punching and hitting members of the public.<br /></p><p>Maybe they need a dose of their own medicine and someone could knock some sense into them both?</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-34874478391807085562009-07-22T19:09:00.005+01:002009-07-22T19:26:27.066+01:00Moon landing hoax - shame on you!<p>It is the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing this week.</p><p><br />Newspapers and news programmes in the UK (and I assume throughout the world) have been full of pictures, interviews and features of the historic landing.</p><p><br />A quick search on the internet will come up with millions (maybe billions?) of sites, articles and videos exploring the event.</p><p><br />However, by now, the "One small step for man" speech is as synonymous with the great feet of human and technological endurance as it is with the 'Moon Landing Hoax'.</p><p><br />Did man really walk on the moon in 1969? Was the technology there? Why are the shadows wrong on the pictures?</p><p><br />While this is not a post to attempt to come to a conclusion on this debate, or explore my own thoughts on the matter, I would like to just say one thing. Will these documentary makers please leave the poor astronauts alone!!</p><p><br />I googled 'did we really land on the moon' this morning while I was having my coffee and found a video of this fat American chasing poor old (and they are all old now) astronauts to get them to swear on the bible that they went to the moon/walked on the moon/walked in space/whatever.<br />These poor guys, who had no doubt been fantastic pilots and scientists before joining Nasa went on to risk life and limb to further mankind's exploration of space.</p><p><br />Whatever your beliefs on the moon hoax row, the astronauts are not to blame. Why aren't these guys chasing down Nasa, or the government? It was really sad to see film crews chasing these poor, bewildered old men. Shame on you!</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-60936158844631484722009-07-20T13:30:00.008+01:002009-07-20T14:05:17.240+01:00If you are reading this please help!I have swine flu. I'm <em>sure</em> of it.<br /><br />I can't go out in case I infect a pregnant woman who will not be able to visit crowded public places, and I can't live with that on my conscience.<br /><br />So I am locked up in my flat, washing my hands repeatedly between key strokes. They are starting to get raw and rashed (my hands that is, not my keyboard) and this post is taking a very long time to type as my bathroom is down the hall.<br /><br />I have a pair of knickers wrapped around my head like a face mask. Don't worry, they are <em>clean</em>.<br /><br />I rang the NHS helpline but they said I was not to come to the doctors or go to the pharmacy for my tamiflu tablets. Instead I was to ask an uninfected, healthy friend to go and pick them up for me.<br /><br />But I have no friends. Or a letter box, so even if I did have a friend I would risk infecting them too, jeopardising our relationship and ending my one and only contact with society in my otherwise sad and insular life.<br /><br />The food is starting to run out and soon I will be reduced to opening the tin of pilchards in tomato sauce I won in a summer fete tombola last year. What else goes with Bovril?<br /><br />If you are reading this please help!EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-18484807896847159732009-07-16T19:34:00.006+01:002009-07-16T19:40:25.420+01:00Like buses.. and all that (always make sure you have clean nickers on in case you get run over by one)<p>I've been very busy this week with two comedy performances in the space of three days. </p><p><br />I have know about both gigs for more than a month, so in typical 'me' style, was up into the wee hours the night before the first one panicking over what material to do. I eventually staggered to bed completely exhausted - still no closer to sorting out my set - and spent the entire day leading up to the gig stressing about what to do.</p><p><br />Tonight (being the night before the next gig) is set to be the same. </p><p><br />What puzzles me is that I am usually a very organised and prepared person. As a journalist you <em>have</em> to be organised to work towards deadlines. If anything, I am usually accused of over-organising things; nights out, which pubs we meet in, where we go next etc. etc. I am constantly reminding myself to relax and 'go with the flow'.</p><p><br />But when it comes to this comedy stuff, I seem to put it off until the last possible moment. I think, it maybe has something to do with the fact that I am absolutely petrified of getting on stage.</p><p><br />It's like a mental block when it comes to being on stage in front of people. I put the 'normal, sensible, organised me' in a little box and pack it away in the corner of my brain and this sweaty, panicky, disorganised, mess of a person takes over.</p><p><br />Oh, I've just read that last bit back. Isn't that schizophrenia? Yes EW, yes it is. So is answering your own questions on your blog.</p><p><br />And the day started so well..... can I get off now please driver? This is my stop.</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-67265734240552078042009-07-13T14:21:00.010+01:002009-07-13T15:00:30.719+01:00Looking after the pennies<p>As I was sipping my cold morning coffee this afternoon there was a programme on BBC Radio 4 about the battle of the discount stores.</p><p><br />Pound shops, we were dully informed to the background noise of (I assume) goods being packed in plastic bags and other assorted 'general shop noises', are popping up everywhere on our high streets.</p><p><br />The bastard love child of a broken economy and an indebted population, they are about the only retail outlets that seem to be 'bucking the trend' of declining consumers amid the recession, by selling bags of jelly tots and packs of dishcloths at incredibly low prices.</p><p><br />But even among the lowest of the low (ok, so the nice lady presenter might have said cheapest of the cheap, but she said it in such a way that it <em>sounded</em> like lowest of the low) there is a retail war going on, as pound shops are undercut by 99p stores. </p><p><br />And now, the new kid on the cheap block is the 89p store.</p><p><br />The lady presenter interviewed the owner/manager of a pound store on a high street where one of these 89p stores had opened up the road. The pound store had seen a decided downturn in trade since the 89p joint opened. This confused the well-spoken Radio 4 woman, who seemed flabbergasted (in her Queen's English) that consumers really would turn their backs on a store "for the sake of a few pence".</p><p><br />And herein, finally, lies my point. "For the sake of a few pence" spat the well-spoken, middle England, daddy's little girl presenter. What, to a woman who's father owns Rolls Royce, or Dunlop, or the local country club, or whatever, is 11 miserly pence? </p><p><br />Why, she probably doesn't even save her coppers anymore, she's the sort of person who can count pound coins as loose change and simply discards the coppers and silvers right there on the street like a cigarette butt or a finished chewing gum.</p><p><br />While most of us are lucky to have survived this recession relatively unscathed (most of us still have jobs, a roof over our heads and can afford to feed ourselves, even if it is the cheaper stores-own brands these days) to a lot of people - are you listening Radio 4 - 11 pence is still 11 pence. Of course you're going to take a few extra steps down the high street if you can get your set of 20 disposable lighters and broken biscuits pack cheaper. </p><p><br />It smacks of "let them eat cake" syndrome, and until it can be beat out of the middle and upper class mentality (preferably with a big, hard stick) then we are never going to get over this recession.</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-39838071390927306182009-07-02T20:32:00.006+01:002009-07-02T20:35:54.794+01:00Match pointLike the heartbroken victim of a cheap kiss-and-tell tabloid romp, I have been keeping a dignified silence of late, content to lurk with intent on an array of familiar blogs - and take the time to venture tentatively into some hitherto uncharted territory.<br /><br />Many events have been reported on in the public arena since my last post, but I am looking to the future now, so for anyone expecting a "here's what's happened so far since the three minute advert break for all of you who are too stupid to remember what the show you have been watching for the last hour is about" you can switch over now.<br /><br />Green lawns and red strawberries have been the order of the day this week, as the crinkle-free white-clad athletes of the tennis world grunt it out for the Wimbledon crown.<br /><br />In the UK, our great hope, Andy Murray, takes to the courts tomorrow (Friday) and by the time you read this may have already won or lost his game, set and match, dashing a nation's hopes against the white-topped net of despair.<br /><br />But I'm sure life, like this blog, will go on.EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-26406753504804292752009-05-25T15:34:00.004+01:002009-05-25T15:38:45.241+01:00Once again I seem to be failingFor anyone who cares, this is the second time I have started a blog and failed to keep up with it.<br /><br />Both attempts were for fun, an excuse to write and to be published - of sorts. But I just don't know how regular bloggers find the time to keep up with it. There just aren't enough hours in my day!<br /><br />Plus, I don't think you can become a blogger if you read other people's blogs first (I think it works the other way around though).<br /><br />I got into blogging because I read a few blogs regularly and decided to give it a go, the problem is, the blogs I read are so fantastic (eg Annie Rhiannon, Sarah Gostrangely - links below) that I just feel like a silly child following their big brother or sister round. Tolerated because it's (blogging) family, but not really wanted and certainly not cool enough to hang out with the big kids.<br /><br />So I raise my coffee cup to all you amazing bloggers out there, it truly is an art to come up with witty writings on enough of a regular basis to keep people interested.<br /><br /><a href="http://annierhiannon.blogspot.com/">http://annierhiannon.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br /><a href="http://sarahgostrangely.blogspot.com/">http://sarahgostrangely.blogspot.com/</a>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-7124044383849243402009-04-28T12:55:00.005+01:002009-04-28T13:03:55.387+01:00King Arthur lives!<p>A story on the BBC website today reports that a Pagan campaigner protesting for better access to Stonehenge is being evicted from the site. (see link below)</p><p><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/wiltshire/8022291.stm">http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/wiltshire/8022291.stm</a></p><p>King Arthur Pendragon (the guy actually changed his name to this in 1976 by deed pole) has been staying in a caravan near the site since last summer in order to maintain his protest.</p><p><br />You <em>have</em> to check out the story, if only to see a picture of the protester (real name John) who looks like he's just walked off the pages of Beowulf, complete with grey beard and ceremonial robes.</p><p><br />While public access to historic sites is a very serious debate, I couldn't help but smile as I sipped my morning coffee and read about poor John, ummm, I mean King's plight. </p><p><br />Not only do I love the exentricity of it all, but the very idea that if the man who spawned the King Arthur legend were to return incarnate I'd like to think he would be fighting for justice, peace and the rights of the common man, not living like a hobo in a caravan outside some old ruins in the English countryside.</p><p><br />Good on you though King!</p>EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-44845106359479352202009-04-16T17:42:00.007+01:002009-04-27T09:00:37.775+01:00When Annie came to visitLittle Pinch spent the night in the big city last night, in my spare room to be exact.<br /><br />It was lovely to see her and nice to think we could help out on her long trip across the country and over to Ireland by providing a warm bed and a hot shower.<br /><br />I don't think she'll mind if I say she was tired. <em>I</em> was tired having not finished work till 9pm that evening.<br /><br />I wanted to make it a big, special night in our nation's capital. I should have taken her to the Millennium Stadium or for a walk around the flood-lit castle walls. We should have stood, shoulder to shoulder, at the water's edge down The Bay looking out across the inky black sea of possibilities a capital city has to offer.<br /><br />Instead we fed her cheese and bacon sandwiches and Easter egg, sat on the sofa and chatted as she learnt to play Green Green Grass of Home on her guitar. But, maybe, that is the <em>real</em> spirit of Cardiff.<br /><br />We'll do the castle and all that tourist crap next time Annie, I promise.EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-7228702967110052792009-04-16T16:34:00.002+01:002009-04-16T20:31:03.180+01:00Doesn't anyone have a fresh idea?While waiting for my morning coffee to cool I read today that plans are afoot for an operatic version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.<br /><br />It's going to be called The Golden Ticket, and is due to premiere in St Louis, USA, in June 2010 (Video on youtube: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh7GvGoiTtY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh7GvGoiTtY</a>).<br /><br />Now Roald Darl was my childhood hero. I grew up listening to and reading the adventures of Danny the Champion of the World, George and his marvellous medicines and all the other fantastical and magical characters Roald brought to life.<br /><br />But an opera? Really? I am sure it will be a very lavish and well-adapted production, the Gene Wilder film of the 70s was great fun (sorry Johnny, but you just didn't cut the mustard as Willy), but isn't there a producer or financier out there with the balls to back something NEW?<br /><br />I am sure there are plenty of new writers bursting for a chance to see their work come to life, and I'm also sure that the late, great Mr Darl would be happy to see that new talent (perhaps inspired to become a writer/film-maker/producer having grown up reading his books) given their chance to shine.EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-83103276686328112082009-04-15T14:22:00.003+01:002009-04-16T20:33:00.895+01:00Sweaty airplane and HaggisThe job of a journalist is basically poking their noses where nobody wants them and asking all the questions everyone else in society has too much moral conscience to ask.<br /><br />We are vilified and championed in equal measure (yes, there really are people who think that a free media is the cornerstone of a democratic society, and no, they are not <em>all</em> journalist lecturers).<br /><br />Part of the job is also, sometimes, reviewing things for the paper/magazine/website/radio show you work for. In line with this I am going to Scotland this week to walk in the beautiful hills and sample the delights of local cuisine.<br /><br />I have dusted off my 1950's style rimmed hat complete with little white card tucked under the ribbon which reads "PRESS" and am ready to venture over Hadrian's Wall to see what tempting treats the Scottish tourist board can offer.<br /><br />I have sumptuous visions of me standing by a windswept loch, the clouds swirling overhead like rich cream in a thick, sweet sauce, whipping out my pad from my grey Lois Lane trenchcoat which is churning around my legs, licking the end of a pencil before hovering it above the paper and asking; "So what's on the menu tonight, Haggis or deep fried mars bar?"<br /><br />I think they may not be inviting me back.EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6777363354563339794.post-3885698342783198802009-04-08T15:40:00.005+01:002009-04-08T18:59:44.593+01:00How time fliesGosh, I hadn't realised it had been so long since my last post!<br /><br />This is always the difficulty with blogging, you go through weeks where you have something to post every day - several times a day sometimes - then some weeks the 'real world' takes over and internet land has to take a back seat.<br /><br />Last week, for example, two friends had babies. A boy and a girl respectively*.<br /><br />So I have been busy buying cute cards and toys and standing in BHS wading through racks of miniature outfits with embroidered rabbits on and then travelling around the country to gush as the little tikes dribble their sick down my new top.<br /><br />* I mean that one boy baby and one girl baby were born, not that one of my two friends was a boy - now that <em>would</em> be worth posting about.EWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13187155662479197694noreply@blogger.com0