Guest Post - Admin

Today my dad guest blogs about one of his most favourite subjects, "Admin".  I should explain that Admin is a term that my dad uses not just for paperwork, but also for all of those little processes and procedures followed in every day life.

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Thanks to stevepb for the image

So, to Admin.

Only they could do it. It is beyond the scope of most mere mortals to comprehend, but admin are 'different', like chalk and cheese, they see a different world to the rest of us.

For example, if you yourself lived in these parts, I dare say you would call North Ferriby Infant School (Church of England) -

North Ferriby Infant School (Church of England)

- or some close approximation thereof.

As the saying goes, it does what it says on the tin, the name would be descriptive in an entirely sensible manner and good folk who deserve to breathe air would know exactly what you were talking about!

Ah, but Admin, ah no, for them common sense is forbidden - unless it is specifically demanded and detailed in official guidelines because, presumably if normal people understand what you are saying despite official guidelines and admin jargon, well you have clearly failed miserably.

So, the above mentioned school has a sign outside which proudly states to one and all "Welcome to the KS1 Building"!

Excuse me? Only admin can have the slightest idea just what KS1 refers to.

I am bemused by the fact that despite guidelines, political correctness, admin jargon etc lingering traces of normality stubbornly persist amongst the office staff and the powers that be have decided that the rest of the world needs a sign welcoming them to the above abomination. (note: the school is excellent, it's the name that gets me - KS1 indeed!)

.. and someone was paid money for this decision!

NB Deliveries must not be made to the KS1 building, as another sign informs everyone, indeed no, deliverers of deliveries must find the KS2 building across the road!

Do normal people really talk like this?

Really?

PS I once enjoyed a friendly chat with an admin person, over a pint of alcoholic beverage or several. I somewhat outrageously enquired whether one was still permitted to scratch one's arse if the desire occurred, and he told me in all seriousness that this was still currently permitted. However, should I wish to scratch anyone else's arse, I would require a licence to do so. Either way, such activities must not be performed in public as the word 'arse' has erotic connotations and may cause uncontrollable urges in some individuals, and then only between consenting individuals.

Disclaimer: The word 'arse' mentioned above was only written down behind locked doors with both my feet in a bucket of cold water. This PC does not have an internet connection for fear of hackers, be they government or freelance, becoming over excited.

Why not pop over to my parents website, www.facebook.com/RavenMagical where they offer all kinds of magical and new age goodies!

A Revelation...

Those of you that kindly follow my YouTube channel will already know this, but for everyone else, I've had a bit of a revelation this week.

On Friday afternoon at work, I felt in need of a hot drink.  Now, long time readers may remember the tea vs coffee debate between my blog and Life, Explained, so of course my choice of drink has to be tea (although I do quite like coffee).

I happen to have 2 mugs on my desk at the moment, my regular mug (a present from my son from last Fathers Day) and another mug which I generally use for visitors.  And a somewhat crazy thought crossed my mind.

What if... I made TWO cups of tea???

So I tried it.

And it was good.

I finished one cup of tea, and guess what?  There was a second cup, right there, ready for me.  Perfection.

I can only theorise that this may work for other drinks, like two cups of coffee.  Do experiment and let me know.

In other news, I'm delighted to say that Susan Leighton has very kindly hosted a guest post of mine on her blog, asking how your new years resolutions are coming on, and some tips if you're starting to run into difficulties.  Do pop over and let me know how your resolutions are coming on :)

Guest Post - Banking Day

Today my dad blogs about doing some business banking!

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Thanks to geralt for the picture!

'BANKING' DAY.

And the sun rose upon a new day, and it was ordered that I must present myself to the bank and prove who I am.

The fact that I have done business with them for over 20 years is neither here nor there. They know where I live and I owe them money, but apparently I now have to prove who I am, show them my birth certificate, produce utility bills etc all supposedly authenticated by someone important such as an Optician, local government official, member of the armed forces, etc. Bank employees did not count as 'important'! The notion that an Optician is regarded as 'important and trustworthy' but an employee of the bank where I have done my weekly banking for over twenty years isn't, seems both bizarre and amusing.

However, it seems that potentially I could be an international criminal involved in white slave trafficking, money laundering, drug smuggling, the list is endless.

Can I prove that I am innocent? they seem to ask.

Are these people real? I reply.

The man who interviewed us at the bank - my wife also had to prove who, why, where etc accepted my wife's and my our proof of identity on the nod and seemed to be almost embarrassed that we had had to do this. He also said that regardless of the official letter I had received from 'Clueless Bank Head Quarters', he was regarded as 'important and trustworthy', and he could indeed verify my identity.

However, he had other questions to ask.

He needed full details of all foreign countries we buy goods from!

We don't!

Well, we placed a one-off order from a German toy manufacturer last Christmas, (a present for our grandson) which won't be happening again, and last summer - or was it the summer before, I forget - we bought some small statuettes from a firm in Paris, but 99.9% of our stock is bought in the UK.

"And what about Eire?" he asked, in a tone of voice suggesting that he had caught us red handed smuggling children to a sausage factory in darkest Pontefract.

We currently have two customers in Eire who buy from us - we don't buy anything from Eire.

"Oh", he said "Oh fine". Somewhat distractedly he waved his pen like a magic wand over a huge questionnaire, searching for a killer question that would prove our identity as international criminals.

"How much cash do you bank per year?" he asked.

Like the bank doesn't know? Maybe it was a trick question .. or possibly the bank's left hand is entirely clueless as to what the bank's right hand is doing?

If anyone knows how much cash we bank surely the bank will know? No, Really?

We bank very little actual cash (folding paper variety), as is the case with a lot of businesses virtually all our money is either cheques or cards through the card machine, at most £1000 per annum is banked and probably much less than that.

The bank chap looked utterly deflated, this sum was apparently trivial beyond expression, he was looking for people who bank hundreds of thousands or millions.

He looked rather discouraged and against my best efforts I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Poor chap, he then spoke to us as if sharing a confidence with a friend, that he had been in Financial Services at the bank for 40 years!

No wonder he looked sort of 'withered'.

I made some half-hearted joke about it sounding like being trapped in hell and with no trace of a smile he said "yes, something like that"

He continued that being a 'banker' was no longer highly regarded these days and that he was sometimes reluctant to tell people what he did for a living.

I suggested that he tell them he was a pig farmer instead, at which he smiled vaguely.

Finally he said that he was pleased to have met such nice people, shook hands and thanked us for our time.

Yours faithfully - I forget my name, but I am certified a non-international criminal .... for the time being at least.

If you enjoyed this, why not pop over to www.facebook.com/RavenMagical and check out my parents business - they offer all kinds of weird and wonderful magical and new age goodies!

Guest Post - Pulleys!

Today's guest post from my father Graham covers his delight of globalisation, and how it lets him order hardware.  He was after a pulley, apparently.

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ON A BRIGHTER NOTE, EXCELLENT NEWS! PULLEYS!

I can tell you're impressed! Indeed as we are in this modern age of Google and global economies, market places etc it would be grossly old fashioned to try the hardware shop - one of which still does exist down a sleepy road in Hull, nay perish such thoughts, Google will answer all my needs!

Indeed, and lo, there were a staggering variety of pulleys, plastic, galvanised, stainless steel and even some steel/brass constructions. Unsurprisingly my preferred option was 'Outstandingly strong and serviceable, but amazingly cheap'. This took some searching for but eventually under 'Chinese Imports' I found gold dust (well, pulleys actually).

I could either purchase perfectly good pulleys at around 20p each, and an absolute bargain price - minimum order 1000 units (!), or, I could buy single items at approximately £3.50 each. I chose the latter!

Mike, my favourite son, did the doings, clicked on - oh 'things' on the computer screen, I gave him real money and I now await a package from Hong Kong anytime this or next month.

Mike is well versed at this frankly amazing sort of purchasing, indeed only last week we received a T Shirt on his behalf all the way from the USA via Germany (as proved by various labels attached to the packaging).

Yes, I thought so too ... why via Germany?

Erm, clueless I'm afraid, I blame the EEC myself, well politicians anyway.

Anyway ... what?

Oh pulleys? Ah er, exercises! Persons who know me are aware that I am an exercise freak. It seems that if you lift a weight via a pulley you have 'constant tension' applied to the muscles via the rope - pulley system thingy ... apparently, and this is good ... allegedly. I read it somewhere on Google, so it must be true! Even better than that, you can perform some seriously odd exercises from an amazing variety of angles with a pulley ... what is there not to like?

Don't answer that!

Discover my parents weird and wonderful mail order business Raven, which offers all kinds of magical goodies - www.facebook.com/RavenMagical

Rahul Has A Dream

While I'm taking a short break which has probably involved cross stitch, my good friend Rahul Singh from Good Little Indian has stopped by to hold down the blogging fort. Thanks Rahul!

There's a cave in Turkmenistan called the "DOOR TO HELL", it's been burning nonstop since 1971. There's also a cave in Mars, and it hasn't been found yet. No kidding. While none of the 2 genuinely awesome facts has anything to do with Duolingo, but that's what you get when Rahul decides to write.

Write! Write! Write! A writer writes, a reader reads, and a language learners learns languages. Alas! I'm using too many exclamation marks. Thankfully, the person that'd be editing this blog, is a friend. Oh! I have distracted myself, but take my word... One shouldn't swear while writing professionally. And no exclamations. Alright? Great!

Note to self: Take a long breath, and write properly, Rahul. Okay? Good.

Duolingo, learning French, and some extras. These were to be the themes of this post. While, I've mentioned the extras already, let's get to the main subject. Duolingo.

The story in a snapshot: Rahul installs Duolingo. He chooses to learn French. He's within a month 12% fluent in French. 2 months later, the app shows him 10% fluent in French. He giggles, as he doesn't remember a proper sentence.

There's nothing more painful than an unfulfilled dream. Just a while back, I'd a dream. My dream girl, dressed in black in a wild summer afternoon, temperature clicking 50°C. Both of us standing in the middle of an abandoned land. Complaining about global warming. Then, suddenly I would go down on my knees, and ask her in French, "Voulez-vous s'il vous plaît aller chercher de l'eau ici?" The girl would say, "What?"

"Will you please go and search for water here?" I'd reply with a faint smile. How romantic!?

However, such is life with slow 2G, and an app that's not Taylor (or tailor; pun unintended) made for that type of Internet. I had dreams of mastering French, and publishing a book in French. How rude is life! What a cheat destiny is! It showed me the meat, and when I moved to eat, it took the plate away. I could literally sue all the Gods for this, or my Internet provider. If I weren't busy playing Baseball. 9 Innings 2016 is the game, Arizona is my team. I've finished last for 2 seasons straight, but I'm addicted. So, goodbye French, goodbye all.

P. S. - The sentence in French has been written using Google translate. If that's completely atrocious. It's not to be blamed. Thank you.

P. S. S. - Anybody wants to sign me up for a book deal? While, I'm playing Baseball. I will try to take time off to write. Good day.

Thanks again to Rahul for blogging, it's well worth stopping by his blog at https://goodlittleindian.wordpress.com/ and you might want to check out his previous post where he details further his battles with Duolingo.

Mike is on Holiday and Life Explained Takes The Reins

While I'm doing the holiday thing, my good friend Tim from Life, Explained has stepped up to write a guest post.  Take it away, Tim!

My friend Mike is on a holiday. I am not sure where he went, and since I am writing this now (not now, like at the present time, now like weeks ago, probably) I am not even sure when he went. Still, Mike is my friend, we have been blogging friends for quite a while.

Which makes me wonder why he didn’t tell me where he was going, was he worried I would show up at his hotel. “Hey, Mike, here I am with my family, and the people I work with. And the guy who runs the donut shop where I get my “coffee.* We just stopped by to see what you were doing.” Would that be so bad?

Of course he didn’t even tell me when he was leaving. Perhaps he thinks I will go to his house and drink all his beers, and tea, and eat all the pastries and cakes. Which might not be a bad idea considering how little Mike thinks of our “friendship.” If it weren’t for all the flying over all the ocean (two of my least favorite things) to get there.

Still, good friends are hard to find, particularly when they live in the UK and don’t want to be found. Then it approaches impossible. And Mike is one of my oldest blogging friends.

Mike, we are going to go to the Smoky Mountains in a southern state in the fall. Beautiful country, moonshine liquor, boiled peanuts,** a peaceful cabin nestled deep in the forest, Friendship Falls and their version of Loaded Fries, and the comfort of an evening rain shower every time we light the barbecue grill. It is almost heaven. Why don’t you stop by. It is just location redacted.

Your “friend”

Tim

*Secret wife fooling code for “Donuts”

**Whatever you do don’t eat the boiled peanuts, I am convinced it is a joke, and they just laugh at the Yankees as they take our money.

Note from Mike: For the record, I have little idea where we're going on holiday, it involves me driving and my wife giving directions.

Summer 2016 call for guest bloggers!

We set up a swimming pool in the back garden - very nice, although I'm not too sure about the warning logos...

The one on the left appears to be "Look at people in water with big left arms" whilst the one on the right is "Don't walk away from people praying"?!?

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to write about today - I'm after a few guest blog posts to fill the gaps during an upcoming summer holiday, so if you might be interested, feel free to get in touch :)

In other news, we made a couple of videos today, one of me testing my wife on phrases from the Urban Dictionary, and one where she gets her own back, testing me on cross stitch trivia.  Please feel free to check both out!

Not Completely Duo in Lingo

Today we're very fortunate to feature a guest post from Rahul Singh, a brilliant blogger who I enjoy immensely. Apparently Rahul is endeavouring to learn French...

21st March, 2016 - The Duolingo app downloaded from the Playstore.

21st April - My app shows me 12% fluent in French.

21st May - My app now thinks I'm only 10% fluent in French.

1st June - I sit wondering if I log in to the application, and mess a lesson up what my fluency in French will be downgraded to. Maybe to 1%, seems realistic.

Apparently, I'm not too good with dates, so I just kind of made that data above by myself. Here's a sure thing though. A month earlier I did my French lessons for 19 straight days in a row. My fluency in French rocketed to 12%. Everything appeared to be cruising, and then 1 day, my INTERNET connection gave up. The 19 day French streak was broken, and it's never been the same henceforth.

Somewhere in February/March I downloaded an app for learning a foreign language. I found out Duolingo to be the best FREE option. I quickly (not so quickly.. I still use 2G) downloaded the application, and there began my journey.

By the end of 1st week. I knew at least 40 words. It gives me immense pleasure to remember the 1st sentence I made in French. It was "Je suis un riche garçon". I don't even know now if it's correct (just kidding.. I checked it). My app still shows me as 10% fluent in French, but I'm not. I have always found horoscopes to be a waste. Apparently, no horoscope as a child warned me 'bout using 2G internet. Things take ages to load. Heck, I even think of suing some of these Telecom companies. But, then 2G is cheap, and I am too.

[Side notes: Sorry, I got a bit lost with emotions there. I always do.]

So, Bonjóur, Boññe nuit, garçon, hómme, femme, chat, rouge, and as I am writing this, I think I still remember a lot of those words, and maybe I am not too bad with French. So, if I login again - which I will - and, Duolingo tries to act mean to me and says that I'm as ridiculous in French as it's in working with 2G. Maybe, I will start a #RahulKnowsFrench movement on Social Media and let Duolingo know that I'm a French master.

Although, I personally think horoscopes are sh*t, but one I randomly came across said that Geminians have French as their favourite language. Although, it's stupid to generalize so many people just because they were born between 21st May and 20th June (or whatever the sample class is), but anyways, I will stick to learning French. I sometimes think that I should try to learn German simultaneously too, but I will persevere with French.

English is another option too, but it would hurt my ego to see the app showing my fluency in the language as 0% initially. Learning language is never 'bout arithmetic, but my ride with Duolingo seems to be all 'bout numbers.

In all that, I often wonder how small this world has become. And, how fascinating and exciting the world of technology is. Internet is there to stay long in a world with so many uncertainties, although who knows what more humans will add to this world of increasing wonders.

On another note, the woman whose voice has been used in the app is really sweet, but I often wonder if she's having fun testing my listening skills. French like anything new looks difficult to adapt to, but it's fun nonetheless. It will be interesting to see what my fluency remains once after messing up a lesson, I log out of the Duolingo app next time, if my 2G internet is able to load the data too.

In hindsight, it could've been very different if my internet connection hadn't crapped out on the 20th day. I could've even been applying for an official masters degree sometime soon. I wish, ages and ages hence, I wouldn't be telling my kids that, "One March evening, the data didn't load, and that has made all the difference - well, at least to my knowledge in French."

Thanks for reading.

When he isn't fighting towards attaining fluency in French, Rahul blogs over at https://goodlittleindian.wordpress.com/ - go say hi!

Guest post - Terrors Lurking in the Bathroom

Today my dad blogs on my behalf about the dangers of the smallest room.

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Picture courtesy of Unsplash

TERRORS LURKING IN THE BATHROOM!

Startled? I should say so! 'SHAKEN' would not be putting it too strongly either. Well, you don't expect that kind of thing early morning in your own bathroom.

I had exercised after breakfast, which is normal for me and quite un- extraordinary in any way, raised a mild sweat etc. I was pleased to have managed one whole Pull up from a dead hang position, although two Pull ups were quite beyond my current ability. Pitifully weak I agree, but a problem with the right shoulder has put me back as it were.

I have great ambitions to improve considerably!

Thereafter with blood pulsing in my veins I retired to the bathroom, washed, made a mental note to clean my teeth, brush my hair, find a clean t-shirt and.......... WHAT! ?

There on the window sill a can of deodorant stood quietly screaming in the sunlight -

IF INHALED - THIS PRODUCT CAN KILL!

Instinctively I held my breath, had I inhaled any of it?

Well no, not today, I hadn't actually used it today, but yesterday?

Maybe this was a dream and I had actually died horribly yesterday but it had slipped my mind? (a possible side effect of terminal deodorant death!)

I pinched myself. OUCH! No, that felt alive enough.

Scared now, I wondered furiously, do I dare to use the deodorant for fear of terminal lethality? Who would walk the dogs? I need to prep food for the evening meal. I haven't written my exercise diary entry for today!

I took a grip of myself, think man dammit, presumably as long as you take a deep breath, dash into the bathroom, spray, dash outside to the relative safety of the garden to gulp down clean air - whilst leaving the bathroom door and window open to vent poisonous gasses ... all should be well after say, half an hour!

Early morning exercise is fraught with dangers it seems.

Discover my parents website, www.facebook.com/RavenMagical - they offer all kinds of new age and magical goodies.

Bold Claims

Yesterday I was shopping in one of the local supermarkets, and we ventured down the card aisle - I did actually need to pick up a card this time, but my son always enjoys looking at all of the different cards so we tend to go down there anyway.

Anyway, I noticed on a couple of the cards that the plastic wrapping put forward an interesting statement, as follows:

This card will keep kids happy for hours

Will it?  Will it really keep kids happy for hours?  My son is fortunate enough to have one of these fancy tablet devices, which will entertain him for a period of time, with all kinds of games, videos, and fun stuff, but even that gets boring after half an hour or so (and so it should - he's got drums to play with after all!).

Does the card dispense crisps?  Or perhaps it tastes exactly like chocolate, and yet is indestructible so you spend an eternity licking it.

I should know better really, advertising is bound to put forward these sorts of ephemeral statements.  On my desk (for reasons that have disappeared into the past) there is a spray which purports to "Eliminate tough odours for good".  Putting to one side the unlikelihood of removing a smell for eternity, what exactly is a tough odour?  I'm not sure but I think I got beaten up by one down a dark alley one evening.

Ah, perhaps I'm just getting grumpy in my old age...

In other news I've kindly been invited by Alex of Champagne & Lemonade to post on her blog, and I've talked about the products I use to keep myself looking so... um.... socially acceptable.  Do check it out and say hi!

Guest Post - New Boots

Today's guest post from my dad talks about his discoveries whilst purchasing footgear.

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Thanks to LJ- for the image

NEW BOOTS!

It was as documents go, small, restrained, brief even, not a 36 page instruction manual embracing 999 thousand words and in all honesty I really can't complain, such was its brevity.

A bare two A4 sides of instructions, an utterly trivial 1,562 words explaining the instructions, regulation, care, maintenance and use of 'A PAIR OF BOOTS!'

Now I hate to blow my own trumpet but I really thought that I had mastered 'How to wear a pair of boots' long, long ago, I seem to think them go on your feet?

Ah not so easy, it is assumed in this day and age that anyone buying a pair of boots may possess minus 'infinity intelligence', and all you would ever need to know about boots, and a lot more besides, would have to be spelt out to you, in great detail. What follows is but a taster.

To be honest, 'they' did assume that you knew how to put boots on your feet, so what else did you need to know? Well for a start, you MUST NOT clean the boots with Caustic Soda! (who in their right mind would ever ..... ?)

Indeed, when the boots are dirty, they insist that you must clean them (without Caustic!), allow them to dry naturally - forced drying is forbidden and you must store them in a cool, dry area when not in use, and most certainly not expose them to impacts exceeding 200 Joules or compression greater than 15,000 Newtons.

Perhaps unlike the average passerby in the street I do happen to understand a smattering of scientific type weird shit (aka jargon) having worked in a laboratory for twenty years, but precisely what in everyday terms a compression of 15,000 Newtons relates to is quite beyond me.

A falling brick? And from what height?

Oh no, I'm confusing Compression and Impact, bother!

Other fascinating information tells me that the upper leather and rubber sole are guaranteed for 10 years!

And that the 'manufacture' of the boots themselves is guaranteed for 3 years!?

(Deep breath) The safety footwear (boots) comply with the EC Directive of personal Protective Equipment (Directive 89/686/EEC) and meets the EU standard EN ISO 20345:2011. It features Metatarsal protection - no, I'm not making this up - Resistance to fuel oil and Resistance to inimical environments! (What?)

So if you find yourself in an Inimical environment, you had better know where your Protective Equipment (Directive 89/686/EEC)/EU standard EN ISO 20345:2011. boots are!

Oh and you have to wear a sock - one sock per boot! I kid thee not .... the boots aren't guaranteed if you don't wear socks!

Head over to www.facebook.com/RavenMagical for my parents mail order business offering all kinds of new age and weird and wonderful magical goodies!  But, unfortunately, not boots.

Guest Post - The Aging Population

Here's a guest post from my extremely young father Graham.

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THE AGING POPULATION.

Spot the idiot ... this is worrying.

I freely admit that I have a serious aversion to old age, I hate it passionately and I haven't even got there yet, not quite. Indeed I have been hating old age since I was young; it is not something I look forward to.

In a world where, if you pay any attention to gossip in general there seems to be a world shortage of hysteria, there are any number of people who will seize any excuse to run up and down screaming because someone, somewhere, has grown their first grey hair, developed a dicky knee or most lamentably discover that they can't remember someones name.

The fact that the lost name will come to you sooner or later, given half a chance and seemingly the less you worry about it, the easier it seems that the reluctant memory will return ... is no excuse for not panicking!

Why exactly we get brownie points for hysteria I have never quite managed to work out, but it does seem popular.

"IT MUST BE ALTSHEIMERS!" someone is screaming (possibly just in my own head, but it's sort of deafening all the same). The people who try to fix this malady in the real world and want more government funding have got some kind of excuse I suppose, but anyone else? (oh and the media of course, there would be very little News if it wasn't for Hysteria - ditto, Colouring, Slanting, Twisting and Tarting up mundane events)

Anyway, I had to buy tomatoes, from the farmer's market and buy them I did. Indeed, I chose the tomatoes myself, money changed hands, I put the change in my wife's purse and I strode off manfully leaving the tomatoes on the stall ....... !?

My wife, who is still sharp of mind and in command of her faculties was shopping by remote control in the car - it was raining heavily so being sensible she directed and pointed, and I heroically ventured forth hunting various delightful consumables.

Triumphantly I returned, wet but happy in the (false) knowledge that I had bought all the goodies we wanted. A quick trip home ensued and I unpacked our treasures - cream cake, check! Meat from the butchers, check! Sausage rolls, check! Tomatoes? Where, how? I searched the car, not a sausage and no tomatoes either!

When did I suddenly become so utterly air-headed?

No, better not tell me, I'm quite upset enough as it is. My instinct was to massage my head against the nearest brick wall for being so stupid. Do I need in-depth written instructions perhaps?

INSTRUCTIONS FOR PURCHASING OF TOMATOES.

1) Find Tomatoes, (well known salad item, they look like 'tomatoes' - if you don't know what tomatoes look like, just die now!)

2) Pay for tomatoes (Tomato vendors like this sort of thing)

3) PUT TOMATOES IN SHOPPING BAG! (you should have a shopping bag with you)

4) TAKE TOMATOES HOME!

NOTE. Take Special note of instructions 3 and 4 - without these the whole operation will be compromised!

Possibly a hard-hitting poster campaign would help

"HAVE YOU GOT YOUR TOMATOES?"

I can see that shopping lists in future will be mandatory!

Feel free to check out my parents Facebook page for information about their mail order business, Raven, through which they offer all kinds of weird and wonderful magical goodies - www.facebook.com/RavenMagical

Being Creative

Today is a good day.

The day started by clearing out a good chunk of our garage, which over the past five years has gathered all kinds of wonderful knick-knacks, which are far too lovely to throw away yet not actually nice enough to keep anywhere better than an unheated concrete floored brick box with a leaky roof.  As a reward we went to Pave for lunch (one of my favourite pubs) which was nice, this afternoon my son blew his homework out of the water spending ages on it (again, good to see), the Tesco delivery arrived with beer in it (yay!), and I've just uploaded two new videos to YouTube.  I've also scheduled a load of tweets on Hootsuite - something which I do far too rarely - and I'm obviously writing this blog too.

Being creative is tricky - it's easy to come up with something like "I don't have the inspiration" or "I can't think of anything to blog about right now" (and sometimes I honestly feel like these are true) but what it really comes down to is "I don't feel like it".

To do it right I think you have to treat it as a job - for me, it's about expecting myself to churn out 3+ blog posts and 1+ video a week, of at least a reasonable quality.  Of course, I often fail to meet this, which is purely because I'm not disciplined enough.  That said, it is a hobby (and unless my advertising revenues increase by a factor of a thousand - or more - that isn't going to change any time soon!) so I'm not going to be too hard on myself.

And I have done a video - it's a quick look at new game Prison Architect, where you manage a prison.  Interesting, fun, dark, and surprisingly emotional.

So, as I say, it's a good day today.  I might even push on and try to write an extra post or two so I've got something ready for next week.

One last thing - Adele Archer kindly put up a guest post of mine today, which has a little test for people to see how well they can infer information about someone.  Have a go and drop a line in the comments.

Must go - it's beer time!

Guest Post - Boys Day Out

As I'm recovering from a fairly epic pummelling otherwise known as the latest transatlantic debate, my dad guest posts today, talking about the last time was went to Pave, one of our favourite bars.  Think I might pop over later...

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My dad thinking in Pave.

BOY'S DAY OUT.

Mike, my favourite son, took me out for an afternoon's beer sampling at the last Easter weekend. What better way is there to idle away a pleasant afternoon with good company, a bite to eat, a friendly atmosphere and something wet to wash it all down with?

'PAVE' is a friendly pub in the nearby city of Hull, with good food and an extensive selection of excellent beers - it fitted the bill perfectly!

Whist visiting the gentlemen's facilities, which is occasionally required whilst sampling beer, I could not help but notice a poster advertising an 'Unplugged female singer' whose performance was said to be 'Intimate, Raw Emotional and Eclectic'. I have to admit the words caught my attention, being as I was somewhat unsure as to their meanings. Interestingly I have seen the self same terms describing other performers at Pave - Pave tends to feature Jazz musicians and vocalists, who are very good, but not necessarily intimate, raw, or indeed overly emotional!

Together we mused whilst sampling various beverages what 'Intimate, Raw Emotional and Eclectic' could mean in real terms, clearly it was something that performers at Pave specialised in. Well, I admit, we were feeling 'refreshed' at the time and random, lateral thoughts were coming easily to us. Maybe some of our suggestions were a bit silly, involving choir boys, scalded cats and electrical kitchen equipment .... but as I am currently cold stone sober, I can't possibly repeat some of them, but really, the poster blurb promised that a certain female singer would satisfy all my musical eclectic needs and I don't know how it is, perchance the foreign named killer pint of lager (my second sampling) prompted a strange state of mind, but I was quite unaware of ever having eclectic musical needs!

A stunning vision of me riding a unicycle whilst balancing a music box on the end of my nose, playing the Star Spangled Banner, appeared, and then vanished before my eyes.

Apparently anyway, the singer and her friends travel across the UK every week, possibly to avoid angry mobs of music lovers.

I blame the lager. Erm, I think I'll have a coffee next please.

PS If you suffer from 'Raw Emotional' I highly recommend either earplugs or Premium strength lager - they work wonders for me!

Guest Post - Dogs!

While I'm away on honeymoon, today's guest post by my father talks about their two rough collies, Maeve and China.  Be warned - sensitive subjects are discussed...

Three hairy things.

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PET'S CORNER. (person's of a sensitive nature should read no further!)

CLICK!

As you may, or not know, we have dogs, beautiful, fluffy, staggeringly hairy dogs, bitches which I prefer to males - as they can be less bothersome in some regards, sometimes. Rough collies. They are beautiful, gorgeous, lovely, cuddly and wonderful.

They are also vile, revolting, amazingly intelligent whilst simultaneously really astoundingly thick!

I suppose this means, they are DOGS!

Maeve for example, is a lovely creature, beautiful, intelligent and as I said above, 'as two short planks' (according to my completely accurate world view).

Possibly she is hormonal?

Maybe the cold weather has affected her sense of smell?

Whatever, she has gone through a period of eating ahem, non-edible, non-food stuffs which are regrettably associated with (probably) male dogs who share the same daily walking circuit. (ie 'droppings')

Having eaten the inedible not to mention unspeakable, she has proceeded to return home and vomit her guts up in various rooms of the house.

This has stimulated a severe urge in me to chase her through the house with various murderous implements whilst screaming "Die you stupid *$!&$!", or words to that effect.

I hasten to add, these violent brainstorms have been confined entirely to my head where they merely raise my blood pressure.

(Okay, just occasionally I may have said "Arrrgghhh!" in a loud voice.)

My wife, ever a calming influence in my life informs me that when she was young, one of the old sheep dogs in her village was known for eating coal and handkerchiefs, and the old farmer who owned it said they needed to train it to shit on the fire. She laughed and I didn't.

The dogs are aware that my saying "Arrrgghhh!" in a loud voice means that I am not at all pleased right now and Maeve, oh dear Gods, Maeve will try to eat the offending deposits in order to clean up. She then instantly feels most unwell and naturally vomits again - whilst being chased through the house as I attempt to stop her moving about.

This dietary aberration has made her very sick indeed.

The answer I have found is to keep her on a lead at all times when out walking.

She is not keen on the restriction but her health has improved remarkably since I started doing this.

I did try briefly letting her run freely again once she was better and blow me, the same problem arose again, so now she walks on the lead ever hereafter and all is well more or less.

Note. By chance I met a fellow dog walker whilst shopping at the supermarket the other day. We exchanged greetings, enquired as to each other's health and as always said "And how are the dog's?". We both related copious information concerning our canine pets and she told me that her dog never touches animal droppings, rather it eats compost given half a chance! Dogs, Why do they do it?

But I digress.

NICER THINGS (readers, you can look again now)

CLICK!

In the deepest depths of winter, which have just barely relinquished their grip upon us, we were driven to purchase a small fan heater for the games room as the night light method of heating just wasn't cutting the mustard as it were.

CLICK!

Being a modern, though basic cheapo model, fan heater it has a safety device built in so that should it fall over for whatever reason, it turns itself off.

This is welcome. And it goes

CLICK!

China, the other beautiful, fluffy, intelligent exasperating etc dog has not the slightest idea as to how to play with a ball in the garden despite much encouragement, but she has discovered how to play with a fan heater.

You nudge it and it goes "Click!"

NB You do not knock the heater over, no, no ,no!

You just nudge it, it goes "CLICK!" and you can nudge it again.

" CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK!"

This gets mummies and/or daddies attention, which is amusing to a dog!

She has also learnt how to nudge Christine's right arm whilst she is working on the computer. This also gets mummies attention of the 'annoyed but also endearing' type, causing such comments as

"Oh China, yes we do love you, you are very nice, why don't you nudge daddy instead?"

China wags happily, the operation is a complete success.

Why not check out my parents business, Raven - they offer all kinds of weird and wonderful new age and magical goodies.  Head over to www.facebook.com/RavenMagical

Guest Post - Nature Watch

While I'm away on honeymoon, today's guest post, from my father, discusses the delights of the garden now summer is here.

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Thanks to Schratzl for the image.

NATURE WATCH.

I was gazing leisurely at the garden the other morning, in a rare, brief moment of idleness and was admiring the wonders of nature. The new, green life bursting forth now that winter has relinquished its chilly grip on the earth, the thrill of birdsong, a constant delight to the ear, which if freely translated from bird speech says "Ladies, anyone up for a shag? Sod off other males, this is my territory! Ladies ...?"

The lawn has quietly been gathering itself through the winter and has exploded into tussocks, independent states which are now fighting to conquer lesser clumps and rogue grasses. The first cut of the year is always a challenge!

Norman, the giant bonsai tree must be 30 feet tall if he's a foot now and must be something of a rarity. It was a good thing that we took him out of his pot all those years ago and put him in the garden as no way could he fit in the living room now. I believe he is a Cedar of some kind and his 'leaves' are modelled on bright green needles - to be handled with care and preferably only stroked in a downward direction.

The lady of the house sat with me on our rustic garden bench for a quiet moment. She agreed it was indeed a wonderful morning and in the same breath commented that Norman needed a 'trim', which sounds like a painful operation. The chances of my remaining unscarred by such a task are slim to non-existent.

It was but two weeks previous that she decided that the young Oak in the corner of the garden also needed a 'trim', specifically cutting through the trunk approximately six feet above ground to encourage it to spread. Gardeners who are reading please note, this is a young tree of barely six inches diameter trunk, so not a great and ponderous creature. However armed with a log saw and a hand axe, whilst balancing six feet up a ladder, it was still something of a challenge.

I decided to admire the wonders of nature a wee bit longer and then busy myself with the battleground which is the lawn. It's bound to take longer than I anticipate and with luck it will be lunchtime before too long.

Why not head over to www.facebook.com/RavenMagical where my parents offer all kinds of new age and weird and wonderful magical items via mail order.

Guest Post - Folklore of Robin Hood's Bay

While I'm away on honeymoon, my dad Graham guest blogs today, talking about the folklore of a little fishing village called Robin Hood's Bay in North Yorkshire in the UK, one of his favourite places in the world, and has at least two extremely good pubs.  That last fact doesn't really have any bearing, I just quite fancy going to one of them.

My dad in one of the extremely good pubs, the Dolphin. Cheers!

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FOLKLORE OF ROBIN HOOD'S BAY...

Now in the old days, especially in rural areas you might just find your horse one morning, hag-ridden, sweating and quite exhausted. Clearly the witches had been abroad, riding egg shells across oceans, flying the airs on broomsticks and having a whale of a time on your horse.

We have no horses!

Actually, I’m pleased that we are horseless, I mean to say you start getting into hag-ridden horses and next thing you know Linger’s ghost is knocking on your door!

Terrible bad luck it is to see Linger’s ghost – I never seen him, honest sweetheart, and even if I did, which I didn’t, I’d still not see him, cross me heart etc gov’nor!

Linger’s ghost?

(for the uninitiated, Lingers ‘Ghost’ was firmly tied up with smuggling in and around Robin Hood’s Bay many, many years ago)

Well I for one be knowing nothing of any Linger’s ghost and that be the truth of it, but I did hear a tale once told to me by some stranger in the Inn one dark night. ‘Ee were a-shivering and a deathly pale colour he was, and he told me he’d seen this ghost all white and ghastly it were, standing looking out to sea up on the cliff tops. An it did a-see him and it gave out a terrible moan and did come for him to take his life an a drag him down into the deeply-dark waters.

Well, ‘e did run for ‘is life and didne stop still ‘ee reached the safety o’ the Inn.

He tole ‘is tale to any who would listen but none would say owt to him, save that it be bad luck to see Linger’s ghost and lest he wants to swim with the fish, he should keep ‘imself to imself in future and stay away from the cliffs at night, cos that be when Linger’s ghost comes a haunting.

Over a mug of ale old blind Jake said that he’d seen the ghost himself not a month ago up on the cliff tops, though everyone knows that’s nonsense, ol’ Jake be as blind as a bat.

Interestin though, the following day the excise men were about the village looking for smuggled goods and they did ask if anyone had seen Linger’s ghost abroad these past nights.

Sure enough no one had seen it – ‘tis bad luck to see Linger’s ghost … and if they did, only a fool would admit it. (like that young idiot Carson years ago, reccon’ed he’d seen the ghost and what happened? He were found at the bottom of the cliff – told ee it be bad luck)

Notes from an old book ….

Robin Hood’s Bay, or Baytown as the locals would have it, is a very strange place. There are men to be found in the local watering places who could buy up three or four of your fashionable city shops on a whim, and there be none of the paupers in the streets here, as so often found in the big cities.

This is a rich place!

I’ve often thought to myself, the modern Baytown does well considering there are only a handful of permanent residents living there now, businesses thrive, endless charity events are ran and if there be bugger all folk living there full time, they do darned well on it.

Of course, there’s no smuggling there now, there hasn’t been any smuggling known of associated with Baytown for .. oh, probably 20 years now!

Feel free to check out my parents mail order business selling all kinds of weird and wonderful magical goodies at www.facebook.com/RavenMagical