Time keeping

Travelling back from London on Friday was a challenge. I had a meeting at 3.30 after which I had to be on the 4.32 Victoria to Gatwick train to get an EasyJet flight at 6.25.

Having thought I was on a BA flight rather than an EasyJet I had failed to print off my boarding card in advance. Easyjet would be delighted to charge me £90 for printing one off at the airport but I would not be delighted to pay them. I begged a favour from a stranger at my first meeting and had them print my boarding pass for me.

It got worse when I discovered the venue for my 3.30 meeting was nowhere near where I had thought it was. My only hope was to cut the meeting dead at 4.00 and run like the clappers.

The 3.30 meeting started at 3.37. With no small amount of skill and pride I spoke three times more quickly than usual concluding the meeting with a successful outcome on the dot of 3.59. (It is quite possible that I have developed a reputation as a bit of a loony in the process).

I made it to Victoria Station at 4.23 and bagged a seat on the 4.32 to Littlehampton and Bognor Regis. I began to relax - I would have an hour and ten minutes to get through security at Gatwick and get to the gate.

Strolling through the airport and hurtling from the South terminal to the North on the transit I made my way to the departures gate. I handed my boarding pass over and things went wrong.

"This is for tomorrow night sir!"

"WHAT!?"

I hurried to the EasyJet ticket sales desk to be told they could get me on the flight on Friday for £99.

It took a good ten minutes to get the boarding pass and head back to the departures gate, where a queue had formed.

As I waited I examined my boarding pass. The departure time was showing at 6.10 rather than 6.25. I looked for a clock. 5.46.

As is always the case when you are in a hurry the security teams slow down and someone very stupid in front thinks that they have the time to have chat with the security people as they go.

Naturally I got frisked and had to remove my shoes for separate x-ray attention.

Rather less relaxed than I was on the train I hurtled through the airport to Gate 55E which is about as far from security as you can get. The flight was of course delayed! Till 6.25!!

A plague of WIBINI's

Yesterday was total frustration on the road. Nice empty roads to Newcastle and then Edinburgh except for a  plague of Wibinis.

First there was the bus being towed by the pick up truck for four miles. Then the not so smart- smart car for three miles. Turning round at Newcastle found me behind a caravan behind a tanker behind an articulated lorry behind a camper for about thirty miles. Passed that lot in time for a six mile delay behind a tractor.

All of them Wibinis - "what is behind is not important".

Approval

My approval rating has gone through the roof. Not that I am being approved of.; the increase in my rating is quite sinister.

Mrs Blog often sends me out to our local Sainsburys to get a little shopping. Being technologically aware I have, for some time, being using the self-service check-out.

I know that when I buy alcohol or aspirin (I always seem to buy the two at the same time!), I need to be approved of by a member of staff. This has never been a problem as I am always sober, non-suicidal and wrinkled enough to pass scrutiny.

Today I was buying neither aspirin nor alcohol (despite consuming vast quantities of both in the last 24 hours)  and still needed approval. What for? Firelighters for the barbecue! Bizarrely I do not need approval for the matches!!

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday

This week Mr Blog was visiting Mum-Blog in Yorkshire.There were a series of forms that needed sorting out so, rather cleverly, he pre-prepared the forms ready for signature.

Sister-Blog (Wife of big-fat-Tom-Blog) spotted one or two errors.

It appears that for at least seventeen years the blog-address-book has held that following inaccuracies,

• Uncle-Blog's address
• Brother-Blog's post code
• Mother-Blog's post code
• Sister-blog (wife of big-fat-Tom-Blog)'s birthday

There may well be many other inaccuracies which have yet to come to light so please bear with us. If you have been expecting a birthday card, Christmas card or any other felicitation from the blogs and did not receive it - sorry!

Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year (Just in case!)

At last

It has been a bit quiet lately so sadly there has been little to blog about.

This creative drought has been brought to a welcome end by news from Spain. It appears the Spanish government (who are not renowned for having huge amounts of cash) have sunk $680 m into a project to build several submarines. They have discovered a slight hitch...the submarines will sink. That is, sink and not come back up again! A little like their Armada?

A weekend to myself

Mrs Blog took her self off to Aberdeen yesterday afternoon to spend some time with daughter-blog (the one with the goggles who cannot throw a stone into the sea).

As she left she told me how nice it would be for me to have the rest of the day to myself to do what ever I wanted. She also  told me that if I could find time she would quote like me to put together a stool she had found in IKEA.

My balloon was burst. Previous encounters with IKEA had prepared me for the task ahead. I waved goodbye to Mrs Blog and retreated to the house with a heavy heart. My whole weekend to myself hinged on being able to assemble the latest purchase -  a metal and plastic stool called Fanghorn (or something like that).

Previous encounters with Bumlard, Wilidik and Oyball had prepared me for what lay ahead.

With screwdriver and spanner set located I set about opening up the packaging. The usual instruction leaflet was there - no words just stupid little pictures that make no bloody sense. As you have probably guessed most of my weekend disappeared in trying to assemble Mrs Blog's Fanghorn Stool.

Mr Blog goes in to business

Mr Blog has set up a new business. It aims to tell the Life Insurance world what is wrong with it and what it needs to do to put things right. Given the state of Life Insurance companies  there should be no shortage of work and money into Mr Blog's coffers.

As part of the marketing effort for my new business I wrote a letter to the UK managing director of Prudential, whom I know from my time working there.

My letter said,

"Dear Barry,

Trust you are well. The first quarter has been challenging for the market in the UK. I have some thoughts on how it is going to develop and would welcome the opportunity of a short meeting to share them with you.

In the first instance I can send you a synopsis of the meeting but would need an email address to so.

Kind regards etc"

Given that Prudential reported an 18% fall in business in their major product line in Q1 after  I sent my letter I was confident he would be impressed with my insights!

I received his reply yesterday, it is edited for brevity and wit.

"Dear Sir/Madam (I did sign my letter Richard)

Thanks you for your enquiry. Unfortunately from the information supplied , we have been unable to trace your policy details on our system. We would be grateful if you could provide us with the following additional information and return this letter together with your original correspondence. (Which they sent back to me!)

.....if you have any questions please call us on 0800 000 000."

Mr Blog has more work than he thought!!

Early Morning Stress

Just back from a two day trip to London. To get there on Wednesday morning I needed to use the Blog-mobile No 3 (a 2005 Ford Fiesta). Blog-mobile No 3 has been in the garage for a few weeks and I was unsure how much fuel it had in the tank. So on Tuesday it occurred to me that I needed to check that there was enough fuel to get me to the airport, especially so, as I was leaving at 4.00 a.m.

(Living in the Borders of Scotland means that petrol stations are few and far between and petrol stations open at 4.00 a.m are non-existent, the nearest all night garage is close to Edinburgh - 30 miles away).

I need not have worried, Mrs Blog was on the case. She had taken Blog-mobile No 3 out of the garage where it usually rusts and checked the fuel level.

"Just under a half tank" she replied, when I asked her on Tuesday evening.

"Fantastic!" I said, "no need to top up before I leave tomorrow."

Posting "Witness to Fitness" on the 18th February this year should have warned me that Mrs Blog is rubbish at reading displays on technical equipment.

When I got in the car at 3.45  a.m. on Tuesday, the fuel gauge read near empty! Evaporation? No! Faulty indicator? No! .....

Mrs Blog confusing the temperature gauge and the fuel gauge? YES!!!!

Thank God that Stellios and his orange friends cannot get a plane to take off on time.

Life is never simple - the sequel

Having equipped myself with the correct battery (and measured the dimensions) I set off to West Yorkshire to install it in the 1998 Mercedes Benz E 300 TD.

Three hours and two cups of coffee later I was standing with spanner in hand looking under the bonnet (Hood for US readers) trying to locate the battery. My internet search told me I would find it under the bonnet (Hood) at the back of the engine on the left. It was not there.

Mum-Blog told me where she had found it when she measured it but it was not there either. Puzzled by the migration of an item that weighs nearly a ton, I rang Eschatology-Sister-Blog, wife of Big-Fat-Tom-Blog who had  been with him when he had tried to jump start the 1998 Mercedes Benz E 300 TD with a set of jump-cables the previous weekend.

"Under the bonnet, (Hood) to the rear of the engine on the right hand side" she told me.

I checked, it had moved, it was not there.

Mum-Blog volunteered that in some previous Mercedes cars she had known the battery was under the back seat.

Running out of ideas I checked. It was there! In fact, judging by the clamp holding it down and the hour with spanner and socket set needed to release, it had always been there.

All is now well except for the mystery that now surrounds what Big-Fat-Tom-Blog actually did when he tried to jump start the 1998 Mercedes Benz E 300 TD. My guess he is that he nearly jump-started the fuse box.

Life is never simple

This week Mr Blog had to travel to Yorkshire (Home of the Yorkshire Blogs) to sort out an MOT on a 1998 Mercedes Benz E 300 TD.

I am being very specific about the make and model for a reason.

Being warned in advance by "Big-Fat-Tom-Blog" that the battery of said car was probably flat, I made enquiries of Kwik Fit (Home of the Kwik Fit Fitter) as to replacing the battery before I headed down to Yorkshire with spanner in hand.

They asked for all the information I have posted above and the registration number which I haven't.

"Do you know the dimensions of the battery?"

"What?"

"How big is it?" (making me feel a bit thick!)

"I don't know I am in Scotland and the car is in Yorkshire"

"Well we need to know because there are two sizes for that car."

"Really? Surely there is some way of telling?"

"No"

"Well could I buy a battery and then if it doesn't fit bring it back for a refund?"

"Yes, You can refund it for the other battery."

Seeing no alternative to ending up with at least one battery I did not want, I rang Mum-Blog.

"Mum-Blog, have you got a tape measure?"

"Yes why?"

"I need to get the measurements of the battery in the Mercedes."

Several calls later and visits to the internet to look up where the battery was supposed to be, we got the dimensions in inches.

(By the way Kwik Fit Fitter, Mum Blog is nearly 84!)

I rang back Kwik Fit and spoke to a different fitter who told me that first fitter I had spoken to did not exist and more to the point , they don't sell batteries.

Still even-tempered I rang Europarts.

"I am looking for ....etc"

"There are two different batteries that could be."

"I know"

"Does the car have air-conditioning?"

"Why?"

"Because if does it needs a different battery to the model without air-conditioning."

"AHA!"

To be continued....

The world is your Oyster

Regulars will remember that I rather foolishly cut up my bank card by mistake recently (No job no money 19/3/2013), this has given rise to a series of unforeseen consequences. My apologies that this post is a little longer than usual.

When in London on the 9th April, I tried to use my Oyster card on a journey from Victoria to Cannon Street. The ticket barrier that behaves like a Rottweiler refused to allow me through and suggested I seek assistance.

I did and was told that my card had been stopped.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't know" came the reply, "you will need to take out a new Oyster card and then apply for a refund from the old one."

So £45 light in the wallet I continued my journey with my new Oyster card.

Today I found sufficient time to get on the internet and go to the Oyster home page to sort out the refund. I followed the instructions in front of me and achieved the following,

• Registered my new card
• Arranged for auto-top-up on my new card
• Updated my bank details to reflect my new bank card
• Lost any reference to any other card I might have ever had with Transport for London (TFL- one of Boris' playthings)

No matter what I did I could not organise the refund without the existing card details. Not to be outdone I range the oxymoronic helpline number. I got through to a voice which read out a series of options, another voice and a series of options and finally after pressing "2", was put through to a voice that told me I could dial a new cheaper number.

I dialed the new cheaper number thinking to myself that there was little logic in giving you an expensive number to call so that you could find out there was a cheaper number you could/should dial. After a few more menus I got through to a real person who took ages trying to solve my problem before he put me on to his supervisor. His supervisor tried several systems to arrange the refund and then told me I could not get the refund from him because I was on a "hotlist" and needed to ring a different number.

The different number was in fact the exact same number I had just dialed  I followed his menu option suggestions and spoke to a lady who had a voice that suggested she would not be flustered if they announced an imminent nuclear attack.

She told me that my old card, the one that did not work, had in fact been stopped.

"I know" said I.

"It was stopped in June 2012."

"I didn't know that!"

It dawned on me that she was talking about the previous Oyster card I had owned and lost and replaced. I explained the situation. She checked and double checked and found that they had no record of me owning any Oyster card between June 2012 and April 2013. My sanity was by now being tested since I clearly remember using the newest replaced Oyster card earlier this year.

After some insistence on my part that I was not mad and I could in fact remember the card and even had the little black plastic wallet it used to live, she tried again.

Eventually she found the card, it was on an account that was not mine. It had a balance of £47 which they were happy to refund to me. But I had to pay them £40 first so could I just hold a while and speak to someone in sales who would take the £40 I owed them.

"Why do I have to pay you?"

"Because you owe us £40"

"No I don't"

"Yes you do!"

"What do I owe you £40 for?"

"The outstanding balance"

"Look all I want is my money back from the card"

"Yes but you have to pay us £40 first."

I had a light bulb moment that saved me from complete brain-melt.

"When you say the balance on my card is £47, do you mean there is £7 on the card and a failed top up for £40?"

"Yes"

"Ah, this is your lucky day."

"Why"

"Because TFL are now £7 richer. Please forget we ever spoke, keep the refund with my compliments, and have truly a lovely afternoon."

If anyone out there is planning a nuclear strike could you please speak to me for details of a suitable target.

Reactions

Son-Blog in St Andrews has been suffering with a sore shoulder for a while. Today Mrs Blog visited him and took him to boots the chemist to get something to help. The something they suggested was a "deep-heat" spray which he reacted to and had to wash off.

This is nowhere near as good as Daughter-blogs reaction to Tesco Chinese Black Bean sauce, when she was 16, which made her look like a cross between a Ferengi and a Klingon!

Priceless

In today's London Times there is a report about a gift given to M Hollande, the president of France.

It seems that the people of Mali wanted to thank him for France intervening in driving the Islamic extremists out of Mali earlier this year. They expressed their gratitude in the gift of a young camel, which began a series of unfortunate events.

Firstly the camel was presented with a cloth on its back, denying the French public the opportunity to determine whether it had one hump or two and causing fierce debates on radio phone in programmes.

Next the animal screeched so loudly during the gift ceremony that no-one could hear M Hollande, who apparently promised to ride the animal regularly.

M Hollande wanted to bring the camel back to France and have it vaccinated but his officials warned him of the complexity of such an arrangement, so he left the animal with a family in Timbuktu.

Finally, the family in Timbuktu ate the camel after cooking it in a Tagine!

Experiences

I was using my new laptop last night and tried to Skype sister-blog in Switzerland. The programme would not let me dial the number but instead threw up a dialog box which read,
"We are improving your Skype experience".
After two minutes it shut itself down. Does this mean I am getting the better Skype experience by not using it I wondered.

Keep watching

The most exciting thing to happen in Mr Blog's life lately occurred today. He was out in the garden for the first time since the second Ice Age started this spring cleaning up the leaves left by last autumn. Borders council do not accept that gardeners have garden waste at this time of year and so, have a policy of not trying to collect it. This means Mr Blog has to scoop the leaves in cheap Sainsburys refuse bags (the ones that tear when you look at them) and transport them to the recycling centre.

All was going well with nine bags of bin liners filled with leaves when Mr Blog turned round and found that the remaining roll of 13 bin liners was nowhere to be seen. The only reason for writing about it, is that, as regular readers will know, the last thing that got lost in the garden was Mr Blogs glasses. The glasses turned up several weeks later when he ran over them with a lawnmower.

20,000 hits

Two years and 188 posts later, Drivel and Wisdom has now had twenty thousand hits! When I started this blog two years ago I had no idea there was such a demand for such inane writing. Thanks to all the readers who keep coming back. If you want to receive a free update of new posts - enter your email address in the space above!

Sinister Blog

Last weekend the Blogs took a trip to the Highlands. With the forecast saying snow was likely, Mr Blog had an attack of common sense and put a spade in the boot. In the end the weather was not so bad that a spade was needed, but there were a couple of cars that had spun off the road so it was better to be safe than sorry.

This weekend I took Daughter-Blog to the leisure centre. The spade was still in the boot next to my gym bag. When I retrieved my gym bag, Daughter-Blog spotted the spade. Given her youth and exposure to American drama on the large and small screen she assessed the situation instantly...
"Are you going to kill someone Dad?"

No job no money

Last week I wrote about how Frank had got my job, today I have no money either. Not strictly true, I have money but I cannot get it.

I was in London last week and, as usual, made extensive use of my RBS Credit Card. That was until I lost it. I searched all the usual places, my wallet and my wallet. Having no success I then decided to do the sensible thing and ring RBS to cancel it. They obliged with a minimum of fuss and arranged for the new card to be sent out.

"If the old one does turn up cut it up and destroy it", I was told.

Two minutes after putting the phone down I did and I didn't. I found the card in my pocket where I had put it but chose not to destroy it.

This morning I remembered the sage advice of the voice from RBS and, armed with scissors, I set about my redundant credit card. Only after the first slash did I realise that I was in fact destroying my perfectly good Debit Card. So I have a three day wait (at least) before I can get money out of an ATM and no RBS credit card.

30 years in financial services means I do have a plan C..... car washing for cash.

Mr Blog needs a job!

The rules for electing a Pope are quite clear, it can be any Catholic male who has been baptised. Mr Blog fitted this criteria and was quietly confident, until last night.

Whilst the Cardinals are always front-runners, Mr Blog has his own international following.  This drivel is read in countries as diverse as Russia, Iran, France, Latvia and Isle of Man. Mr Blog could have been a voice of reason, a voice of unity, a source of humour and his artwork could have adorned the walls of the Sistine chapel.

But it is not to be. There wasn't even the courtesy of a phone call to tell Mr Blog that Frank got the job!

Mr Blog is off to the Job Centre! 

Neo-Luddite

Mr Blog has had enough of technology.

Today, having ventured through snow and blizzards to get to Edinburgh, he bought a new laptop. Being up to the minute on technology is an impossible task since they (usually Microsoft) change everything every week To combat this ignorance I spent an age on the home PC yesterday checking reviews and specifications.

I found just what I wanted a Lenovo G580, very reasonably priced, with a 6GB RAM, 1 TB of hard drive, USB 3 and USB 2, integral webcam, 2 yr John Lewis guarantee. All I needed to ask the assistant in the shop was about the software I needed to add to it.

The assistant told me all about Office 365 which I did not need. He also told me that I was going to have Windows 8, whether or not I wanted to, because it was the only operating system they had (without spending a fortune on a Mac). I could not stay with Office 2010 because they don't do that any more, you have to have Office 2013. All in all that meant getting use to a brand new operating system and at least five new programme updates. Thanks Bill! Regulars might remember my problem with Bill Gates in Clock Chaos 2.

So I have wrestled all day trying to work out the simplest thing - how do you switch off a laptop when using Windows 8? There is no start - shut down option!! I eventually had to use another PC to search on Google because there were no instructions/help function etc. 

The answer for anyone out there struggling with the same problem is.... hover over the right hand of the screen with the mouse, select settings- power options-turn the bloody thing OFF!!

Why cant I buy a new machine with Windows XP and Office 2007?

Dream Jobs

Earlier this afternoon I received a phone call from someone on the Indian sub-continent. Usually such phone calls, where the number is blocked, relate to PPI claims which I don't have. This one was different.

"Can I speak to Mrs Nilson"
"This is Mr Leeson"
"Hello sir, how are you today?"
"Very well thank you. How are you!"
"I am great thank you sir. How many years were you in nosey jobs?"
"Sorry??"
"How long have you been in nosey jobs?"
I must admit that despite my keen interest in communication with people of different cultures I was struggling.
"Nosey jobs?"
"Yes!"
Then the penny dropped, this was a firm chasing injury at work claims
"I have never had a Noisy Job."
"Bye bye".

There is no hope!

Five minutes ago I was looking for my reading glasses in order to scan the paper and possibly try the Times Jumbo Crossword.

If it were not for Mrs Blog saying
"They are on your nose!"
I might still be looking for hours.

Chickenshit

Mrs Blog has long been after some chickens. In celebration of a landmark birthday I finally caved in and bought a coop and run for her to keep the little blighters in. Needless to say Mrs Blog is happy and hence the title "chickens hit"!

Irony

Mrs Blog asked me to record a film on Sunday night on our DVD machine so that we could watch it later.  Last night Mrs Blog, Mum-Blog and I sat down to watch this thriller and were highly engrossed in the plot and the acting skills of Denzel Washington when it stopped without warning.

Being technically minded I set about establishing the cause of the problem. After wracking my brains to find the answer it suddenly dawned on me that switching the DVD player off before I went to bed on Sunday might have had something to do with it.

The name of the film....

"Unstoppable"

Disaster

For the first time in ages I opened a brand new jar of coffee this morning. The world has moved on since it last happened and they, (Nescafe), have replaced the old foil top with a new peel-off top. Total disaster! I will never again experience the joy of popping the foil top with a teaspoon!

For sale

A house in the wilds of the Borders of Scotland boasts a sign outside which reads
"No Sawdust For Sale".

It makes you wonder if that means that absolutely everything else is for sale.

Sorely tempting to pop along, knock on the door and say,
"Two elephants, a loaf of bread and some weapons grade uranium please!"

Witness to fitness

Mrs Blog has been fulfilling a new year resolution to get fitter by popping into the gym several times a week. It must be said that if she were writing her autobiography the chapter on "Sporting Achievements" would be one of the shortest.

Desirous of helping Mrs Blog out I went to the gym with her last week. All was going well, I was on the treadmill for a warm up and Mrs Blog on the cross-trainer.

When I finished Mrs Blog was still going on the cross trainer and called out to me
"Look! I am doing really well - it is on a high level and I am not out of breath."
"Mmmm! The light that is next to "high" is actually the fan setting dear."

Full disclosure

The blog-mobile (clapped out Fiesta) is due for its insurance renewal. The Co-op very kindly sent through a reminder in January telling me to get on the case before 17th February.

I did. I rang them up on the number in the letter, endured a 1 min 14 secs message telling of the perils of not disclosing material facts and spoke to one of their "operatives". She asked whether there were any material facts I wanted to disclose.

"Yes" I said, "I had a claim last September."
"Who was that through?"
"You."
"No we have not got a record of any claim here. Perhaps you have another car insured somewhere else?"
"I do."
"Well it would be best to check with them and come back with the details."

I rang the other insurers (AXA) who insure the other Blog-mobile and they assured me I had a clean record with them. Puzzled I dug out reams of paper work and found that I had indeed had a claim with Co-op. Back I went and 1 min 14 secs later I spoke to another operative (having just been reminded of the danger of non-disclosure of material fact).

I explained the position and was told,

"We have no record of the claim here. You will need to ring our claims team to get the details."

I did. I got the details confirming that there had indeed been a claim on the policy and it had been closed off in October 2012.

Back to the operative (another new one). 1 min and 14 secs later...

"I have the details of my claim that I need to disclose."
"Let me take the details"

She did.

"Can I renew my policy now?"
"No. We will need to recalculate the premium."
"But I have a protected no claim bonus, the premium should not change surely?"
"We will need to recalculate...."

Three days later I rang yet another operative and 1 min and 14 secs later I was able to recite, in full, the Co-op warning on the perils of non-disclosure of material fact.

"Can I renew my policy please?"
"Yes, of course."
"Are you aware that I have had a claim"
"Yes!"
"Great can you tell me what the renewal premium is please?"
"Exactly the same as the one in the letter we sent to you dated 27 Jan, did you  not get it?"

Regulars will recognise the picture  from an earlier post about Vodafone...

Discoveries

Mr Blog made a series of discoveries this morning.

First he discovered that he had dropped his car keys in the blue top wheelie bin used for "kerb-side recycling"

Second he discovered that the depth of the wheelie bin is greater than the length of his arms.

Finally he discovered that Mrs Blog considers used tea bags to fit the definition of cardboard/paper and plastics.

Vodafone

I have a pay as you go Vodafone. Realising that I would be better off with a pay-monthly contract I rang their "help line". The only way they can carry out this number change is to get me to ask for a new number on a pay-monthly SIM card and then transfer the old number to the new SIM card account.

I duly ordered the free new SIM card that had a number I did not want. It arrived by special courier rather than in a small envelope (presumably at no small cost to Vodafone).

Being no Luddite I went on to the Vodafone website to arrange for the automatic transfer for the old number to the new SIM card with the number I did not want. All was going well 'till it asked me for my Account number. I hovered the mouse over the question mark at the side of the box where the account number should go and  it instructed me to check the emails I had been sent confirming the order.

I checked the emails and found no mention of the account number. I went to my online account and entered my logon details and found that I had no account number. I went back to the online form and checked again. It told me that if I had any trouble I should dial 191. I did....


(after 5 mins holding because they were experiencing unprecedented demand)

"Hi I am trying to find my account number"
"What is your mobile number?"
"The old one or the new one I did not want?"
"The old one"
"1234546 (changed to protect my voicemail)"
"That is a pay as you go number"
"Yes I know- I am changing to a pay monthly account"
"This is the pay as you go helpline. You need the pay monthly helpline."
(transferred to pay monthly)
"Hi I am trying to find my account number."
"What is your telephone number."
"The old one or the new one I did not want?"
"The pay monthly one."
"9876543 (changed for the same reason)"
"No that is not your number. Can you tell me your account number?"
"NO, THAT IS WHY I AM RINGING YOU!"

It turns out my new number that I did not want is a number that seemingly nobody on the planet wants including Vodafone because, despite it being written on the packaging and the despatch note, it does not exist!

Sports Drinks

A couple of nights ago I watched a television advert for "Lucozade Sport". The theme of the ad was a bunch of guys running on treadmills and drinking either water or Lucozade Sport. By the end of the advert the guys who were drinking water had all collapsed in a mangled heap but the guys on Lucozade had bags of energy. The strap line was something like "Lucozade Sport hydrates you better than water".

What they fail to tell you is that this is nothing new. Mr Blog and his mate Paul-Blog both learned about hydration when training for the Lochaber Marathon a few years ago. Runners World magazine carried an article which highlighted research showing that water was less effective at re-hydrating than beer. It was something to do with water being too pure to be absorbed quickly by the body whereas less pure liquids were more readily absorbed. Well Mr Blog and his mates don't argue with that kind of research.

As we crossed the finish line of the Lochaber Marathon we collected our T shirt and finishers medal and walked straight in to Morrisons in Fort William. Five minutes later we were sitting on the grass by the finish line drinking beer and applauding the finishers. More than one of them commented on the fact that we were wearing medals and drinking beer so we re-told the story of the article in Runners World quite a few times.Within half an hour there was a long procession of t-shirt wearing, medal-clad runners filing out of Morrisons with all manner of beers/lagers/ales.

In my head there is a great advert waiting to be made with a bunch of guys on treadmills advertising Stella Artois!

Friendship

Son-Blog has a unique but insightful view on friendships....

He states that

"A friend will help you move but a true friend will help you move a body."

"A friend knows when to pour you a glass of wine but a true friend knows when to give you the bottle."

"A friend will bail you out of jail but a true friend will be sitting next to you saying "That was fun!!!""

Mayan Prophecy

Just before Christmas there was a lot of news coverage about apocalyptic Mayan prophecies. The date for the new world order was 21st December 2012 when the Mayan calendar came to an end. There was speculation that this meant the end of the world whilst others suggested it was a dramatic change to the way we live our lives.

Since we got to the 22nd of December and the world did not end (costing Mr Blog a fortune in Christmas presents) it seemed that the Mayans were mistaken.

Not so!! They were just a little out on their timings. They should have ended their calendar on 20th January 2013 because this is the date of the new world order taking effect. I know this for a fact because it was on this date that I got to the bathroom before my teenage son and for the first time in living memory he had to wait for me!!

New Scotland Football Manager

At last the Scots have appointed a man with real talent to run the Scottish football team, Gordon Strachan.

Mr Blog, it must be said, has absolutely no interest in football whatsoever. The fact that he knows anyone in football is nothing short of a miracle. Why then have I posted this post on Scottish football? Because Gordon Strachan is the world's only answer to stupid questions from reporters. Here are some examples...

Reporter: Bang, there goes your unbeaten run. Can you take it?
Strachan: No, I'm just going to crumble like a wreck. I'll go home, become an alcoholic and maybe jump off a bridge. Umm, I think I can take it, yeah.


Reporter: "Gordon, can we have a quick word please?"
Strachan: "Velocity" [walks off]

Reporter: Gordon, you must be delighted with that result?

Strachan: You're spot on! You can read me like a book.

Reporter: Gordon, Do you think James Beattie deserves to be in the England squad?
Strachan: I don't care, I'm Scottish

Reporter: You don't take losing lightly, do you Gordon?
Strachan: I don't take stupid comments lightly either.

He is a legend and is welcome in the blog house anytime!!

Winter Romance

Not long ago I posted about a romantic gesture that back fired. Specifically I had ordered a bunch of flowers for Mrs Blog and totally forgot that I had done so, leading to fierce denials on my part.

Our anniversary is coming up and I was debating whether or not I should take Mrs Blog on holiday somewhere with a bit of sun. Son-Blog chipped in,
"Great idea Dad. How about South Uist?"

Nice idea! January South Uist, -15C with force 9 winds!!!

Sunday Papers

Today I had a spare few minutes to read the Sunday Times. As regulars will know the Times is a source of the occasional blog post and today is one of those days.

In the "World News" section an article appears reporting; a white cat with a saw, a mobile phone and batteries taped to it was caught by guards as it walked through the main gate or a prison in Arapiraca, eastern Brazil.

Still learning

Friend-blogs were round for dinner last night and among their number was an architect-blog (ab). Ab is a talented artist and has an eye for colours and style and such like which I lack completely. During the conversation he referred to a previous property he had lived in, the bedroom of which  was decorated with "white striped wallpaper". I sensed a wind-up but apparently there are many shades of white. I have only ever spotted the one so in my head his bedroom looked like this

Surprises in the bath

Today I spent 7 hours driving to Wetherby and back to deliver Mother-Blog back to her home after a few days staying in the Blog-house. Having got back at 5.30 p.m. I decided to go to the gym to ensure a healthy start to the year, declined a glass of wine and ate all the salad on my dinner plate. A New Year a new Mr Blog!

A short while ago I was in the bathroom and noticed a strange looking object in the bath. At first I thought it was a giant flip-flop. It struck me as rather odd, firstly that it was in the bath; secondly that there should only be one flip-flop, rather than two; and finally that it should be the size of a small cat.

On closer inspection I realised that the giant flip-flop was also part toothbrush and part loofah.

It transpires that Mrs Blog has bought a "foot-cleaner".

Happy New Year

In case regular readers are worried that a New Year might mean a change in the blog household leading to fewer posts - fear not!

New Year day was spent with friends having lunch and Mrs Blog, while discussing presents, mentioned that I had once bought her a vacuum cleaner for her birthday. Apparently this is not seen as a romantic present for a woman - I thought it was inspired. Over the last 24 years I have become convinced that I might have been wrong and it was an inappropriate gift. This view was reinforced by Norman-Blog when he said
"Is it gathering dust then?"

Blog Christmas 2012

The Blogs had a nice quiet family Christmas that was nothing out of the ordinary.

Daughter Blog got up from the dinner table after lunch and laid her paper napkin on the table. It was not only on the table but on the flame of the candle that was on the table in front of her. Mrs Blog called "Fire Fire!", Mr Blog put it out and we survived with the loss of a napkin and a bauble, that was one of several decorating the table, too close to the candle for its own good and which now has a hole in the side of it.

Mr Blog and Son-Blog were the proud recipients of an inspired gift from Boyfriend-of-Daughter-Blog, a pair of Nerf guns with spare ammo. Mrs Blog and Daughter Blog were not as inspired and proved easy targets all day long.

In anticipation of the shortages that arise during a Christmas holiday I had the foresight to make and freeze enough dough for two loaves of bread. Early yesterday I took one lot out of the freezer ready to be cooked that evening. Having proved, knocked-back and second proved the dough I popped it in the oven and showed a huge lack of foresight by not setting the timer. Two and a half hours later the Blogs realised the bread should be ready.

Merry Christmas!

A Tale of the Season

Two days ago I went out to get a "Small Shop" which translates as, I went out and went shopping and spent less than £100. Mrs Blog is a fan of the "Big Shop" which obviously costs more than £100 but also takes most of the afternoon or morning.

Part of my shopping was to buy some Saxa table salt which comes in a cylindrical shaped tub. Mrs Blog favours sea salt but for baking it is impractical. I emptied the boot when I got home and carried my one bag of shopping indoors. Unknown to me, I had left the Saxa table salt in the boot of the car.

Yesterday the Blog-family went to see the "Hobbit" and stopped at Tesco for a little more shopping. Opening the boot to put the new shopping in, I discovered the Saxa table salt. It had burst out of its cylindrical tub and was spread in little mountains all over the boot.

Today I went to the garage and put a coin in the vacuum machine and proceeded to de-salt my boot. It was at this point that I became very self-conscious since I looked something akin to an incompetent drug-dealer hoovering class A drugs out of my car. Merry Christmas!

NB for USA readers:

Boot means Trunk

Saxa are manufacturers of table salt

Tesco is a supermarket

Garage is a filling station

Mr Blog finds his place in life

This morning I was sitting in our lounge, contentedly reading the paper, when Mrs Blog announced that she was going to vacuum the downstairs rooms.

With a fair bit of clattering she yanked our state of the art "Dyson" from the cupboard under the stairs, plugged it in and tried to switch it on. I say "tried" because she only partially succeeded  When she took her foot off the "on" button it stopped. She tried to tap it in much the same way as she clicks the mouse on her laptop when it is running slow. Mrs Blog, you see, is sometimes impatient for a solution.She believes that "stupid" machines will only respond to repeated instructions to do the same thing.

Alas for me her first solution did not work so she employed me for a part of the morning to follow her around standing next to the "Dyson" with my foot on the "on" button button while she vacuumed the relevant part of the house.

Christmas Cards

We are always keen to count our Christmas cards in the Blog-House. It tells us whether or not we are as popular this year as we were last year. Sadly it seems that we are on a bit of a declining trend. This could be due to the economic environment stripping our friends of their hard earned pennies or it could be that I have managed to offend more people with my blog than ever before.

We have been consoled though by one particular card which arrived today. It is a black and white photograph of what I can only describe as Josef Stalin on a camel!!

A Star is Born

Some of the Blog relatives rarely get a mention in these pages. One particular relative-blog who is seemingly put out by this lack of attention is "Immy-Blog" (one of the Yorkshire Niece-Blogs) who asked why she had never appeared in a post when I was with the Yorkshire-Blogs last month.

Said Immy-Blog was curious about my short hair , (number two on the trimmers as an homage to Britney Spears). She queried whether I washed it with shampoo - seemingly she thought there was not enough of it to bother with. Regular readers will know that my hair has been the source of great hilarity in the past (see Extreme Haircuts).

I eventually explained that I used a special shampoo for short hair.

"You have shampoo for frizzy hair, heat-damaged hair, split ends, dry hair and so I use a shampoo for short hair. It is just like normal shampoo but the bottle it comes in is a quarter of the size!"

EasyJet offer in-flight entertainment

Last month EasyJet announced a revolution in air travel. They had, according to the announcement, listened to their customers and decided to offer "allocated seating". Genius! They came to the market with the idea that you did not need "allocated seating" and that a free-for-all-fight was the best way to board a plane.

Some suspicious types might wonder if the change in policy was down to a trial they had run which proved that, on average, it was quicker to board a plane if you had allocated seats. So they could keep to their schedules.

On my first "allocated seat" flight last week I logged on and was faced with the option of paying £3 for choosing my seat. A bargain I thought given that FlyMayBe would charge £6. I even held back from criticising them for the under hand way of milking £3 each way out of my pocket to have an allocated seat - it was worth it I thought. I had assumed that people who did not pay £3 would be subject to the usual free fro all fight for seats. This, I figured, meant I must be getting some sort of priority boarding. In my head I heard the announcement "Flight EZY424 to Bristol is ready for boarding - speedy boarders first then allocated seat boarders".

No. Everyone gets a seat allocated. If you don't pay £3 to choose your seat you get given one for free!!!

In my advancing years I am becoming calmer and more able to deal with this kind of corporate spite. I learned my lesson and ignored the box saying £3 to choose your seat when I went to Bristol yesterday. I found I got an even better seat than the one I had paid for last week. Happy days!

Better still EasyJet had realised that passengers were missing the spectacle of the free-for-all-fights that entertained us in the days of free-for-all-seating - they laid on a fight when we landed between a big Scot with a huge backpack and a small German in a pork-pie hat. It kicked off when the Scot slung his backpack over his shoulder just as the wee German was trying to get into the aisle behind him hitting him square in the face. The German retaliated with a hefty push forward nearly knocking over ten people standing in the aisle waiting for the doors to open. The big Scot retaliated with a shove of his own and another ten people in the opposite direction went wobbling down the aisle.

I simply sat and watched the entertainment before thanking the captain as I left the plane.

Serious Post Dec 2012

On several occasions Dog-Blog has featured on Drivel and Wisdom. 

Sadly Dog-Blog Muffin is no longer with us. Below are the drawings of Dog-Blog that have featured on this site as a tribute to the best dog in the world.

So farewell Muffin - not just a dog but one of the "Blogs".

Beer Fridges

For some years we (me) have fondly referred to the area immediately outside our back door as the "Beer Fridge". It is not a fridge but simply the place by the door where I keep my beer; however, given that we live in Scotland my beer is never too warm.

Not only does the "beer fridge" keep my beer at an acceptable temperature, it saves me carrying heavy cases of beer the extra ten feet to our real fridge and it leaves space in the real fridge for all the yummy vegetables and salads that Mrs Blog is so fond of buying.

This weekend Mrs Blog, in anticipation of Christmas, asked me to move a real fridge from our garage to the area formerly known as the "Beer Fridge" so that we could use it to store all the extra food we are planning to buy before Christmas.

Mrs Blog is excellent at keeping things tidy so it was no surprise that she "hid" my beer in the real fridge where the "beer Fridge" used to be. Alas though, the real fridge is somewhat colder than the old "beer Fridge" and especially when you have it on setting 6 out of 6.

At the end of a busy day I reached in to the "new real beer fridge" and pulled out a can of Fosters....

The blooming beer was frozen into a Fosters Slush Puppy and took half an hour to defrost. The old "beer Fridge" only ever did that following a Met office severe weather warning.

Errant Nurofen

Having a tendency to occasionally imbibe of the odd glass of red wine, I keep a steady stash of painkillers by my bed just in case I wake up in the middle of the night and have need of them.

Two nights ago I set my side of the bed up as usual, filled my bottle of water, took the alarm clock out of the drawer that Mrs Blog hides it in and laid the blister pack of my last two remaining Nurofen next to the water bottle on the floor.

As a temperate soul I had no need of the Nurofen that night. I did however, drink the water and in keeping with middle aged men paid the "odd visit"!

Somehow I managed to tread on the blister pack without realising it.

The first I knew was next morning when the sainted Mrs Blog brought me my tea and trod on something at the entrance to the bedroom. She found a bright orange capsule stuck to her foot and wondered how it was that a Nurofen capsule could find itself there. Now she knows!

Remote based working

When your employers ask you to work from home you might be tempted to think that you can get up late, work short hours, take a morning to do the crossword and have a nap in the afternoon.

I have been working from home for more than ten years and it equates to lots of travelling., longer hours and lots of unforeseen stressful situations. I have learned to cope with being on a conference call at the same time as the postman turns up, dog-blog starts barking and then the courier arrives with Mrs Blog's latest purchase from Amazon/Ebay. Today, however, was a first.

I was working transcribing fifteen flip chart pages crammed full of useful ideas from my team planning day last week. The info was so good that we are confident we can single-handedly bring the UK of recession in 2013. There I was with the flip chart pages scattered around the room typing up the content on my laptop when Mrs Blog popped her around the hitherto closed door.

"Muffin (dog-blog) is out of sorts an I think she wants to come in here,"said Mrs Blog

Dog-blog had just been out of sorts in a very wet garden.

My teams output now looked like this

Dog Blog jumped on the sofa as she was instructed to do by Mrs Blog. I kept my mouth shut I have been in tough situations before.

Mrs Blog left the room and closed the door, Mr Blog sighed in a resigned sort of way, Dog-Blog sat on the flip charts!

Movember

This morning myself and Mrs Blog "Skyped" Son-Blog through the wonders of a PC and an IPhone 4. It was the first time I have seen Son-Blog for a little while and it seems he has joined the "Movember" craze...

It was quite difficult to know which way up he was!

Carrot Mystery

For the last two days Mr Blog has been in Yorkshire with the relatives. One of the said relatives was the internationally famous two year old Blog -Nephew "Ben-Blog" (see earlier posts with "Swiss Cooker Problems" in the titles).

I knew Ben-Blog would be there for a number of reasons, not least of which was that he had caused Swiss-Sister-Blog to yell out on a phone call on Tuesday. Sister Blog was already in Yorkshire and I had called her at about Ben-Blog's tea time. During the conversation she had clear sight of Ben-Blog eating his tea evidenced by the said yell...

"Hang on, Ben has just put the hot water bottle on his dinner!" said Swiss-Sister-Blog.

I thought no more of it.

During my trip to Yorkshire I discovered the following facts which are critically related to the above "yell".

1. Swiss-Sister-Blog was very impressed with Ben-Blog's appetite on Tuesday because he had eaten almost all of his dinner including a portion of carrots. More remarkable since Ben-Blog has a love-hate relationship with carrots.
2. Other-Sister-Blog-Christine discovered carrots in the sink on Wednesday and assumed that Swiss-Sister-Blog had mistaken the sink for a waste disposal unit.
3. Swiss-Sister-Blog had retrieved a hot water bottle and thought the Mum-Blog had had a senior moment and filled the hot water bottle with some weird substance

Solution to the "carrot-mystery"

Ben-Blog had decided the only way he would get a pudding (which he loves) would be if his plate was clear and Swiss-Sister-Blog thought he was still hungry. Not wanting to eat the carrots but still wanting the pudding he hid the entire portion inside the hot water bottle. Which was subsequently filled with hot water and used that night.. He managed to do this undetected, unscrewing the top and screwing it back on again afterwards. You gotta love him!

Clock Chaos 3

Clocks and the Blog household have been having a bit of a rough time this year. It has got no better. Today I was packing my overnight bag for a business trip to London tomorrow. I always make a point of setting my alarm at the same time as I pack - kind of a routine I have. This routine was interrupted today.

I packed my bag as usual, three chargers, wash-bag, shirt, tie etc. Then went to the bedroom looking for an alarm clock (there are four of them in the Blog household). The blog bedroom was bereft of alarm clocks! Not one in sight: not on Mr Blog's side of the room, not on Mrs Blog's side of the room. Not unduly worried I headed for the bathroom where Mrs Blog keeps a spare alarm clock. Nothing. The same was true of the two unoccupied bedrooms. The Blogs were out of alarm clocks.

In desperation I asked Mrs Blog,

"Do you know what has happened to all the alarm clocks?"

"Yes, I put them in a drawer. They were too noisy."

I have still not found a response.

Mr Blog goes romantic and blows it

Mrs Blog and I have just returned after a three day short break in beautiful Glencoe. (Incidentally spell checker thinks Glencoe is Glycogen). I booked the trip nearly two months ago on the web and at the time though how lovely it would be to take up the hotel offer of delivering a bunch of flowers to Mrs Blog at breakfast with a card containing a personal message. This is exactly the kind of service you would expect from the TripAdvisor recommended "Glycogen Hotel".

So on Sunday night we checked in, had a fine meal, free bottle of wine and slept like babes. Breakfast came and Mr Blog completely forgot about the romantic gesture he had pre-booked for Mrs Blog. Not only completely forgot but absolutely completely forgot. The waitress came up to the table with a card and bunch of flowers and said
"for you!", to Mrs Blog
"Who on earth are these from?"
"Not me," I said, "it must be daughter-blog"
"To my lovely wife" read Mrs Blog.
"They must be for someone else" I said.
Mrs Blog, looked crestfallen.
"They are for room 101...Leeson" said the waitress.
At this point a fuzzy, hazy memory surfaced and I sheepishly admitted that I had in fact ordered them. Romance is not dead it has just slipped our minds!

Quiz night

Quiz night has featured before on this blog. It usually takes place on a Thursday and Mr Blog and his mates humiliate themselves in public at the local pub by demonstrating our collective ignorance.

Last night I phoned the home of quiz-regular Dr Computer. His daughter answered and said he was in the bath. I asked if she knew whether or not he was going to the quiz and she said "yes". Not wanting to disturb Dr Computer in the bath nor to have such a mental image in my mind, I declined her offer to speak to him. Undeterred she passed me to Mrs Dr Computer who immediately headed up the stairs with the cordless phone plugged to her ear.

Unable to dissuade her from disturbing Dr Computer and still not wanting to have such a mental image I asked her
"Do you have a plant spray?"
"Yes I do," was the reply.
"Could you get it and fill it up with very cold water for me?"
"...and squirt your husband?"

"I can do better than that" said Mrs  Dr Computer, "We have a detachable shower head on the bath!"

Ten seconds later I heard a shower head spray Dr Computer with freezing cold water. He yelled and started laughing, Mrs Dr Computer was shrieking with laughter for a full three minutes before she passed him the phone.

"Are you going to the Quiz tonight?"
"Yes but a different one. By the way my wife just sprayed me with freezing cold water!"
"Really? Which quiz are you going to?"

It turns out that he was going to a quiz organised by the Freemasons. I thought better of it, not being a member of the Masons, they probably would not tell me the answers to the questions!

University Life

Son-Blog left for St Andrews University this year and has so far stayed alive, sane, injury free and un-expelled.

Several times now, he has rung during the day to complain about the "ridiculous" level of work he has to do for his two main subjects  - Italian and French. In fact all manner of academic evil seems to have befallen him. This evil takes the form of essays, assignments, presentations, revision, tests, translations and copious amounts of reading. I have been left with the impression that Son-Blog has been working into the wee small hours every night trying to keep up with the workload and consequently feeling pretty sorry for the poor lad.

Last night I spoke to his sister...

It turns out that Son-Blog has been up into the wee small hours, however there has not been a book in sight. Son-Blog it seems, is becoming something of a legend in St Andrews. Aside from walking the streets dressed as Cruella D'Ville, he has been out partying carrying a beer sabre (several cans of beer stuck end to end with packing tape) and even found time to relocate a traffic cone to an inaccessible point on the architecture of this venerable town! (by all accounts the cone is still there).

Clock Chaos 2

I thought the Blogs were bad at setting clocks yesterday. Today I discover that Bill Gates is even worse. Mrs Blog has a laptop which is set up to "internet time" which means it should automatically update the date and time function on the machine. I should point out that this is quite an important function because all sorts of programmes stop working when the date and time are not correct.

So this morning Mrs Blog tells me that the laptop isn't working. Sure enough it is having the computer equivalent of a "hissy fit", which I trace to the inaccurate time and date setting which at 8.32 a.m. read,

"16.48 20th February 1641!"

Clock Chaos

Turning the clocks back is always a bit of a challenge in Chez-Blog. Usually it is no more of a challenge than to  make sure that
a) all the clocks are turned back, and
b) that none of the clocks are turned back twice

This year .....

I turned back my clock by my bedside before I went to bed. Mrs Blog relies on her mobile phone so she turned that back before she went to bed.(Her mobile phone automatically adjusts for daylight hour changes). Neither of us turned back the clock in the bedroom with the big red LED display that we both rely on in the dark.

At 5/6/7 a.m this morning I made Mrs Blog a cup of tea that she did not drink because it was 5.00 a.m.

at 6/7/8 a.m. this morning Mrs Blog made herself a cup of tea, I declined her kind offer because I was getting out of bed at 8.30 a.m.

At 9.00 I discovered it was 8.00 so went back to bed, where I am tempted to stay until March 2013.

Transport Problems

Having visited Bristol many times, I have always thought it a strange place.

I flew there this week on EasyJet. "Aha" you might be thinking, no wonder he called this post "Transport Problems"! But no, EasyJet worked as well as it does. In fact they quite surprised me by announcing that, having conducted a test, they were now going to move to the revolutionary new idea of allocating seats to passengers. (Not of course, because it suits us as passengers...they found out that they can get us on and off the plane faster this way)

Later that day I took a taxi to my hotel from the office. I was greeted by a cheery looking chap who introduced himself and his car,

"Hi, sorry about the dent in the door, I ran in to a lorry yesterday."

He then sat me on the inside of this huge dent so that I could contemplate the loss of effectiveness of the side impact protection system.

The following day and still in Bristol I invited a colleague out for a coffee and a chat. My preferred coffee shop is the "Refectoire" just behind the bus station. So we walked through the bus station, me looking as smart as I can in my dark suit and crisp white shirt finished off with a red pin dot tie, where I was stopped by an old lady. 

"Do you work here?" she asked.

Year of the dragon

Whilst under the influence of alcohol I once started trying to speak like some one from the Orient. Where they mispronounce their R and L sounds. It was mildly amusing or at least made mildly amusing by the alcohol.

Then more recently I was sitting on a FlyBe flight and I began to wonder what an Oriental person would sound like doing the safety briefing...It is best to have two drinks before trying to read this out loud.

"Good mawning and wehcome on bald diss FryBe fright to Blister (Bristol). Prease take your seats and prace any rarge items of hand ruggage under the seat in flont of you. Smawrer items can be praced in the ovahhead rockers.

Prease now pay attention to this impawtent safety bleefing.

Yoah seat bert fastens and unfastens as shown

There is a safety instluction reafret in the seat pocket in flont of you that shows you the clash position if you heah the words “Blace Blace!”

There are four emuhgency exits on bald, two at the flont of the prane one reft and one light and two at the leah one reft and one light. Row reveh righting wirr guide you to these exits.

In the event of sudden deplessulisation, masks rike these wirr farr from the panerrs above your head. Prace the mask over yuah nose and mouff and bleathe normarry. The mask is sekkuahed using the erastic stlaps. Prease fit your own mask befoah hepping anybuddy erse.

In the event of a randing on watah, prease take the rife vest out of the prastic covah. Prace it ovah yuah head and secuah it using the stlaps in a dubber  knot at the flont on the reft. Do not infrate the rife vest untir you are outside the prane! To infrate the rife vest paw down on the led toggah. Theah is a tube for ferver infration or defration. A right that wirr irruminate in watah and a whissuh fah attlacting attention.

Once we are in the clews we wirr commence the comprimentary dlinks sahviss

Prease sit back, lerax and enjoy this shuht fright wiv us."

Beeps

Nothing is quite so irritating in Mr Blog's life as a machine that beeps when it is trying to let you know that it has finished doing whatever it was doing. Unfortunately Mrs Blog rather likes Bosch as a manufacturer of washing machines.This has meant that for the last 14 years Mr Blog has been jumping up and running to kitchen every time the washing machine finishes to turn it off and stop it beeping. (Why Bosch think a machine needs to beep is beyond me!!)

Having found a peaceful place deep inside me I thought I would be able to cope for the rest of my days with this annoying machine.

Mrs Blog decided that our dishwasher was not as effective as it should be. I don't understand the technicalities but it was something to do with the dishes being dirty after they were washed. You are probably ahead of me at this point, Mrs Blog decided on a nice "Bosch" dishwasher as a replacement. Of course it too beeps when it has finished doing its thing.

Now I run to the kitchen when I hear the beeps and find I am faced with the 50/50/90 rule. With a choice between the dishwasher and the washing machine beeping, I have a 50/50 chance of picking the right machine first time. The 50/50/90 rule says that where you face such a choice you will make the wrong decision 90% of the time. I do.

Learning Gaelic

Inspired by the beauty of the Gaelic language on our trip to Barra I decided to take a one day course for beginners.

The venue was the Tourist Office in Aberfeldy about two hours from Chez-blog. Arriving in good time for the 10.00 a.m. start, I got there at 9.00. Apparently nothing opens in Aberfeldy before 10.00 on a Saturday so no cup of tea or coffee in sight. Settling for a bottle of water and an apple from the just opened Coop I waited till the course opened.

There were four people in the broom cupboard of the Aberfeldy tourist office when I got there. One man and three women. The man looked about mid-seventies the women slightly younger with one exception which was a white haired lady who looked just like the women you see in 100 year old photos of "Black Cottages" or Crofts.

"Matin Va",
"Matin Va",
"Matin Va",
"Matin Va",

Not wishing to look a right pillock I decided to pretend I knew what was going on...
"Matin Va"

It seemed to be the right response.

Our teacher turned up along with three other students. We were asked to introduce ourselves...
"is mishe Richard", I said when it was my turn.

I discovered that the mid-seventies bloke next to me was Roger and that he was an advanced Gaelic speaker  who had no business being on my beginners course. (You may have guessed by now that Roger and I were not destined to become best friends).

All through the day Roger and I were paired up for exercises. These were made all nigh impossible by Roger demonstrating his extensive Gaelic vocabulary and asking me questions with words we had not covered. Feeling a right pratt I sat there looking dumb all day.

All I learned was that Aberfeldy is pronounced Opperfalldie and that I really did not like Roger

At the end of the course I was so close to asking the tutor

"What is the Gaelic phrase for "Shut up or sod off Roger!"."

Catching Mice

Living where we do in the countryside of the Scottish Borders, we are occasionally troubled with wee rodents.

Based on extensive previous experience I am equipped with a "live capture" mouse-trap (which inspired me to take Mrs Blog to the play of the same name in London for our twentieth anniversary three years ago).

The live capture mouse-trap variety is compulsory in the blog-household, where Mrs Blog would do me bodily injury and possibly murder if I harmed one of God's little vermin.

So having spotted a vole making furtive trips to and from the back of the Blog-house I readied the trap with a a handful of chocolate drops. For anyone who thinks cheese is the correct bait - think again, chocolate is the choice of the pro!

Next morning I noticed that the trap had been sprung and lifted it up to establish whether the claim "live capture" was appropriate.I could not feel anything running around in the trap. My heart sank. Mrs Blog was going to kill me for accidentally killing a mouse or worse still a fluffy little vole. With a heavy heart and the weight of trepidation on me I opened the trap .....

.... and found a slug!

Trip to Barra

This month Mrs Blog and I spent a couple of days on Barra (the Hebridean island and not Barra-in-Furness).

It is about twelve miles long and four miles wide with an airport where the runway is a beach. It has an "A" road which is a single track with passing places not unlike many other Hebridean islands. Knowing that transport from the airport to the hotel might be problematic I rang the hotel beforehand to ask about my options.

"Can you tell me how best to get to the hotel from the airport please?"

(Singsongy voice ) "Aye, you could take Hector McNeil's coach service".

"Thanks. Is there a taxi service?"

"Aye, Hector McNeil runs a taxi service."

Before I could stop myself and knowing what the answer was going to be I asked again

"Is there a car rental service on the island?"

"Oh yes, Hector McNeil's car rental service."

Which left me wondering if Hector McNeil had one vehicle with three signs - taxi, car rental and coach to stick on the roof!