Friday 29 March 2024

Craftsmanship (a thing of the past?)


I walk past these church corner stones at least twice every day; and I always throw them an admiring smile.

The reason being that I too was a stone-cutter in France for a while, until my bad back told me to quit.

Getting that perfect join between two cut stones is very satisfying. It is laborious (as is all stone-cutting) but not difficult. It is simply a matter of following certain criteria. A scribed line on a lump of stone is not difficult to follow and cut away. It is all a question of measuring, inscribing, chiseling, and planing correctly.

In order to get your stone to then sit correctly, the underneath must be slightly concave in order that only the extreme edges touch the stone beneath. After that it's the 'credit card test'; if you CAN'T insert a credit card between the two stones, you know you've done a good job.  


People often say that 'craftsmanship' is a thing of the past. This is not true. What probably is a thing of the past is the money to pay for it. Craftsmanship costs money.

Below is a new building in The (famous) Lanes here in Brighton; someone suddenly discovered an area that could be further developed, so The Lanes have now slightly expanded.

The building below is brand new, and the flint and brick work is staggeringly good. It is one of those buildings that everyone stops to admire. The whole area will mellow beautifully in the years to come; everything has been done to the best traditional Sussex methods. 


Thursday 28 March 2024

Petticoat 5, computer for women.


When people say that women don't invent things, they are wrong. Take this example of a computer specially designed for women by women. What a wonderful invention.

I shall try to find one for Lady Magnon. She's been looking for something similar for ages; she'll be over the moon!

Wednesday 27 March 2024

Spring.



This is a rather tricky and embarrassing subject, but it needs to be told in all its grisly detail.

Billy had the snip when he was still quite young; Lady M thought it was best to strike whilst he was still childless.

But the operation doesn't seem to have dampened his ardour, in fact he has recently shown more 'fathering ambitions' than any other dog I've known.


He really doesn't seem to have any preferences either. The recipients of his ardour can be male, female, large, small, or medium.  He can attack from the back or the front; he doesn't seem to mind. 

I can be walking along, humming some Abba favourite, when I look back to find him hard at it, usually with a group of giggling lady dog-owners all applauding his efforts. None of them ever seem to mind.

So, in fear of Billy one day being accused of sexual assault, I wonder what I should be doing about his desires. Should I keep him permanently on a lead? Should I carry a loudspeaker in order to worn fellow dog owners that Billy is on his way? Or should I just shout "Get off, you randy pervert"? 

Usually it's a rather limp-wristed "Billy, stop that at once".

Any suggestions would be welcome.


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Tuesday 26 March 2024

Time was...


I come from an era of Elvis, of Yuri Gagarin, of cups and saucers, of when we still polished our shoes, of the Morris Minor, Vesta curries, of Teddy boys, and 'bouffant' hair.

We stood still and removed our hats as a hearse went by, we had a shilling pocket money each week for sweets (if we were lucky), and we had a dressing-up box. 

We had gloves on strings that were threaded through our sleeves, we had fathers who went to work with a folded newspaper an umbrella and a neatly folded mackintosh over his left arm, we went for long tedious walks on Sundays.

Aeroplanes still had propellers, some cars still had starting handles, and there were no yellow lines on the roads.

We had teachers who would thrash us for not being able to translate 'Cotta's army advanced from the South' into Latin, we would be thrown into the deep end of a pool to teach us how to swim, and we were made to write 'I must not ask to be excused' 500 times if we needed to have a pee during lessons.

We ate spotted dick, rice pudding with jam, and frogspawn.

We all knew the difference between a man and a woman, we didn't use the F word every few seconds, and we didn't eat 'take-away' meals every night.

We didn't have allergies, we didn't spend all day on the phone, and we didn't grunt when spoken to.

We also had to visit a shop to buy things, buy stamps to send letters, and use a road map to find directions. We had no TV's, no CD players, no GPS, and no Laptops.

Life was hard.


Monday 25 March 2024

Be careful who advises you!

 

Groucho Marx famously said that "A Stockbroker is someone who invests your money until it's all gone". I tend to think something similar about 'Financial Advisers'.

If financial advisers knew so much they would be investing in their own recommendations. Instead of which they charge a client good money, and also take commission on securities purchased. Their remit is to make money from the punters rather than investing themselves in the recommended punts. 

I have never had dealings with a financial adviser, but I do know someone who did. Admittedly she was a tad naïve and knew nothing of investing, whilst having a large amount of money to invest. When she mentioned to me that she had arranged a meeting with her financial adviser I nearly fell over backwards.

I knew the sum she had to invest, so I immediately got to finding her something that would have offered good rewards. I found a small period freehold terraced house in S London. It was very attractive, had recently been restored, and was well within her budget. She rejected the idea at once, then some while later visited her advisor.

I'm sure you know what's coming next, and you'd be right. The house would now be worth about £2.5 Million, the monthly rental income would be around £2,500, yet her own choice of investments performed miserably.

By chance I noticed the above article in this week's Sunday Times. In this case the adviser recommended Goldmines and other Offshore Investments all of which failed. 

Presumably the person who lost all his money (an ex-footballer) failed to ask his adviser how much money he himself had in the shares he was recommending; something I would advise everyone to do in the future.


Sunday 24 March 2024

One of life's mysteries!



Dog owners/walkers are usually very conscientious about picking-up their dog's-poo. We have our pockets full of poo-bags at all times, and in case of emergencies are always ready to give some to those who may have run out.

In fact I would say that most dog owners take great pride in their public-spirited cleanliness, and treat their 'filled bags' as some form of decency trophy. Walking to an allotted dustbin with your little black or green bag is a sign of being a worthy member of society. 


So, occasionally seeing sights such as the above really confuses me. Why on earth would anyone go to the lengths of picking up their dog's poo, then leave the bag on a wall, on a gravestone, or even under a bench. It makes no sense. 

I need to catch an offender actually leaving a bag somewhere, then ask them what on earth they think they're doing. I need to know the thinking behind the action. Similarly, I have always wondered why people leave litter on the ground right by the side of a dustbin.

I have to presume that these offenders have a slightly different type of brain to the rest of us, something must have gone wrong with that tiny part of the brain that says 'Put your rubbish/dog poo in the correct receptacle'. 

For the moment it remains a mystery.

Saturday 23 March 2024

MONTY PYTHON • SALAD DAYS


The very first 'musical' I went to see was Salad Days. I must have been about 10, and went around singing a few of the songs for ages after. I also have a feeling that it was the occasion of my wearing long trousers for the first time too.

Anyway, here is a very short Monty Python version. Enjoy!



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