Blue Witch

Bright doves

These new doves, Blanche and Weiss (this keyboard doesn't want to do the frilly German 's' today) are much brighter than the last ones. The last pair (the ones who left me ove-less) took a week to work out that there was an "inside" to their new home, and then only realised cos Mr BW pushed them in. The new ones have already worked it out. Mind you, it is raining lots... Just because it is the weekend.

Oh, and I finally found out today what it is like to be a double F size. Coming back from the bike shop (bike passed MOT, no problems) I was passing a garden centre and remembered we needed some Stump Out to get rid of the roots on a tree we cut down recently. Having bought that, and a packet of mange tout seeds, I realised I had left my cargo net in the bike cupboard. So, I stuffed the package down the front of my jacket. I didn't half get some funny looks in the Post Office when I went in to get my new bike tax. I'm jolly glad I am a *much* more realistic size. That was a distinctly strange experience. I couldn't even see my feet!! And some people *pay* to be made bigger, surgically. For the life of me, I cannot understand why.

You know when you are

You know when you are really, really down, deep inside other people's problems, trying to give them enough to keep their hopes up, but at great personal cost to yourself? At those times I always find it's the strangest things that make me laugh.

Just got back after a harrowing morning, just about to take the bike off for an MOT, opened my post. Among it a questionnaire on equal opportunities from my professional association. Very important that I fill it in apparently. OK, so let me see. Age, I can do that. Disability, I can do that. Religion or Belief, that would need an essay. Language, no problem. But, "Sexual Orientation" - the choice is bisexual / gay / heterosexual / lesbian / other (please explain). Exactly *what* is meant by the last box? That those analysing the questionnaire want a laugh? All suggestions as to what I should fill this last box with are encouraged....

Blimey, it's a bit depressing

Blimey, it's a bit depressing round here at the moment isn't it?

Last night's local evening paper had a colour picture of my friend's upturned and crushed car slapped across its front page. If you saw it you'd wonder how she got out alive. I considered scanning and posting the picture here, but decided against it, because it is really macabre. My favourite theory of comfort is that it was her first husband (who died a week after he retired, on christmas night, 9 years ago) looking after her.

I'm going to see her in hospital this morning. Ostensibly to cheer her up. I always find it's amazing what I can pull out of the bag when I have to, but this is going to be a tough one.

Thought for the day:

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Very random thoughts (can't do

Very random thoughts (can't do connected today)

My friend who was involved in the accident is stable and no worse, which is a relief. The first 24 hours after this sort of trauma are the most crucial, apparently, so it is looking more hopeful that she will pull through.

The doves are safely collected and cooing nicely in their brown box in the utility, waiting for Mr BW to get home to help get them into their new home. They seem friendlier than the last ones, so, here's hoping. Just in case they were taking good note of all the turnings I took on the way back to The Coven, with a view to later flying back to their original home, I went twice round 2 roundabouts to confuse them :)

Why do people insist on sitting in the outside lane of a motorway when the inner lane(s) are empty? Travelling up the M40 from the M25 junction to the A34 turn-off just before Oxford, the road was pretty clear, but I had to change lanes *26 times* due to people sitting where they shouldn't have been. This was especially true on the 4 lane section. Sorry, but, to me, this is *loads* more dangerous than doing 10 over the speed limit on a clear motorway. But, which would the police pick up on? My driving instructor said to me, 23 years ago now, "If you have not passed the car you are overtaking on a dual carriageway or motorway before you have counted slowly to 10, then you are in the wrong lane and should move over."

When motorcycling, I always carry a piece of paper in my top pocket with my phone, which gives contact numbers in case of an emergency. It occurred to me today that I don't do this when in the broomstick. Bearing in mind what happened to my friend yesterday (which could so easily happen to anyone), I have resolved to carry emergency numbers in the glove compartment, in my purse, and taped onto the back of my phone. Otherwise, it takes hours for the traffic police to track down your relatives to inform them.

Heard George Michael interviewed on Jeremy Vine on R2 on the way back round the M25. Speaking out about why he thinks Tony Blair should listen to public opinion about war against Iraq. As he said, he is at least as well-informed as the man next door, having read the broadsheets and consumed other media interpretation (no comment from me here...!), and in a position to make his voice heard, so he intends to. Interestingly, he also said that he had no idea how Ms D

Thought for the day:

Treat every day as if it is the last day of your life.
You don't know that it won't be.

Bad news

I've just heard that my closest (local) friend was involved in a horrific RTA today.

Hit by a 40 tonne artic, which overturned her car, she had to be cut free by fireman, was air-ambulanced to hospital, and is currently very seriously ill in ITU (head injury, 4 broken ribs, breathing difficulties, broken bones).

I was going to tell you all about what a great time I've been having the past couple of days, but I really don't feel like it now.

She's a lot older than me and has a husband who is 80, very deaf and easily disorientated. Brilliant composer and musician, but not very practical and doesn't really live in the real world. He is going to need a lot of looking after over the next few weeks, whatever happens.

If I'm a bit quiet, you'll know why.
I'm beginning to wonder whether it's knowing the BW that is causing all these awful things to happen to all these people I know :(

Snowdrops

There is this little flower, which blooms when others die
And bravely lifts its little head towards the winter sky
And though it scarcely can be seen amid the sparkling snow
It's blooming there to cheer us, as on our way we go
And so in life's dark winter, when troubles come and go
Let us be like the snowdrops, blooming in the snow
Let's cheer each other onward, when days are full of strife
And brighten like the snowdrops, the darkest days of life.

Poem: Joan Slater
Photo: a BW original (25.02.03 Easton Lodge)

Naming Doves:

I know it's difficult to think of clever names for white fantail doves, that's why I asked you lot to help!

They're being collected tomorrow morning though, and I really don't want to have another Mr D'Ove and Mrs D'Ove situation. I do need to call them something! Peace and Harmony or Joy are out (too obvious), Chalky and Whitey are out (too nasty), and after that we all ran out of inspiration in The Coven.

Mummy Blue Witch thinks the female should be called Blanche, which is the best suggestion so far (actually, the only suggestion so far!), but it needs a boy dove name to go with it.

Any ideas people? Please!

Thought for the day:

What? You too? I thought I was the only one!
- C S Lewis

Oxymorons

(thanks to Ruth for these)

Military intelligence

Peace force

Religious tolerance

Business ethics

Temporary tax increase

Political science

Passive aggression

Advanced BASIC

Sweet sorrow

Small crowd

Almost exactly

Terribly pleased

Pretty ugly

"Now, then..."

Computer security

Found missing

Definite maybe

New classic

Clearly misunderstood

Synthetic natural gas

Plastic glasses

Genuine imitation

Resident alien

Can anyone add to this list?

Thought for the day:

When was the last time you did something that surprised you?

The ultimate convenience

I got some awfully funny looks the last time I went food shopping.
It doesn't pay to be a Value Witch and have a sense of humour.
It gets you odd looks from old ladies and boys stacking the greengrocery department shelves.

For a long time I have been amused by the fresh vegetables and fruit some people will buy "ready prepared" and the mark-up they are prepared to pay for this "convenience". Green beans that have been topped and tailed (exactly how long does it take to get a handful of beans, put their ends in line by holding them loosely in your grip and letting them fall onto a chopping board, then slicing right across all of them; repeat for the other end), cabbage that is ready-shredded (goodness knows what they treat it with to stop the cut edges going brown in the 5 days between when it is prepared and you eat it), baked potatoes with cheese (that you reheat for 5 minutes less than it would take to cook them from scratch), half a melon with the seeds taken out (my hens would kill me if I bought melon like that - melon seeds are one of their favourite things) etc etc. You've probably seen them? Oh, you've actually bought them? Oh well, each to his own waste of money :)

I saw the ultimate laziness the other day, it was so funny, I burst out laughing and people stared at me. Needless to say, in my own inimitable way these days, I didn't care.

Mashed potato.

Yes, mashed potato.

A 800g plastic dish of said product.
£1.79 for those 800g.

And, looking at the reheating instructions, I think I could make it from scratch (and no doubt tasting a whole lot better) in less time. For goodness sake, how hard is it to chop up a couple of potatoes (I rarely peel them - the skin is the most beneficial part), boil them until they are just about falling apart (10 minutes max if you cut them small), strain them, beat them to a pulp with a potato masher (or fork), add a bit of milk/yogurt/fromage frais/cream (whatever you have in the fridge, but best not to use fruit yogurt, OK?), some butter/marg and some black pepper? 20 minutes start to finish.

Potatoes are currently 78p for 2.5kg or £1.46 for £5kg (don't bother buying the evenly sized ones, the cheaper ones are cheaper only cos they are different sizes, believe me, I know a farmer who grows for Tesco's).

I make that 24.96p or 23.36p worth of potato needed for 800g of mashed potato. So, were you to buy said small black rectangular dish for £1.79, you'd have paid £1.55 for a splash of milk, a bit of butter and some pepper. Good grief. That's half a bottle of wine to go with the meal!!!

Cookery Witch hint for mashed potato: prepare standard mashed potato as above, then stir in a lump of gooey brie and a clove or two of finely chopped garlic or some rosemary (dried is fine but fresh is better) and a lump of blue cheese of some sort. Delish. Don't tell Sainsbury's though or they'll have it in their "Taste the Difference" range priced at £3.99 for a small tray...

Thought for the day:

To treat everyone equally you must treat them differently.

The Coven is currently under invasion.

Mummy and Daddy Blue Witch are visiting until Wednesday.
Tomorrow is Daddy Blue Witch's birthday.

Daddy Blue Witch is a very difficult person to buy presents for. He is, by choice, a man of few possessions, and few interests, outside of gardening and engineer-y type things. And he has everything he wants for both of those. So, choice of presents is never easy. He gets an annual subscription to National Geographic and a big box of Jelly Babies every christmas, but, unless we actually see him on his birthday, we often, erm, conveniently forget to buy him a present.

At dinner, Mr BW and Mummy Blue Witch were discussing paperbacks they had read recently. Daddy Blue Witch and I just glazed over and made comments about how under-ripe the strawberries for dessert were. I yawned. Daddy Blue Witch came out with, "The only book I'd be interested in is Murray Walker's autobiography" (ah - forgot to say, he does like F1). Mummy Blue Witch sneered, "And I've told you, you're not having that till it comes out in paperback and is a reasonable price. £18.99 for a book you'll read once....(etc etc ad infinitum)."

Well, just fancy, isn't he going to be pleased when he finds what's in his gift-wrapped parcel in the morning :)
Bingo Witch!
A present well picked.
Smug smile.
Good old Costco book department.

I'll just pretend I cooked up a spell overnight and the book appeared ;)

Birdhouse in Your Soul
(- They Might Be Giants c1990)

Do you remember when my new doves flew away when we first released them?
Well, here's a little picture so you can see just how sweet they really were.



And the good news is, I'm getting some more next Thursday (although I do have to go to Wantage - the best part of 100 miles away - to collect them). And this time, my new little familiars will not leave me that way. I'm spelling on it.

But, I do need some help with naming them. Previous naming dilemmas are detailed here, and here, so all suggestions will be gratefully received.

Thought for the day:

"...I understand angry, day after day..." - Tom Robinson, 'Sorry' (from the album Having It Both Ways)

Don't look back in anger.

* Long post warning*

Now, I need to be Serious Witch for a moment. For my own future sanity and peace of mind in blogland, there are a few things I need to say.
Please bear with me.

Ever since I was a young Witch, and for some reason that I have never quite fathomed, I have always been the one people turn to in times of crisis.

My earliest memory of this is in the middle infants class when a boy called Paul used to be 'naughty' so he got moved to sit next to me (I was a good little Witch, teacher's pet, in those days) so that I could help him with his maths. When he was bullied in the playground because he was not very bright, and the dinner ladies told him to stop imagining things and go away and play nicely, it was me who burst into the headteacher's office in the middle of a meeting and indignantly told him that his staff were useless and something needed to be done, and pronto, about poor Paul's plight.

From that point I could see the value of people power (well, Witch Power). This sort of progressed through the rest of school and university and eventually into the workplace and the social activities I became involved in. I soon became well known. If you've got a problem, go see the Blue Witch, she'll help you sort it. If something needs doing, ask the Blue Witch. If she can't do it, she'll know someone who can.

I was brought up to question and to contribute. I have always been articulate, not backwards in coming forwards and able to defend my corner in most situations. And I do. I have a great belief in 'justice' and in enabling people to mobilise their own personal resources to help themselves. One of my mother's favourite sayings when I was a child was, "Nothing in life is fair", but the unwritten message was always, "So do something about it". No-one has to put up with anything. As one of my recent thoughts for the day said, "Everything is negotiable". It's just a case of finding the right opportunity and opening for those negotiations.

You've probably noticed the caption on my sidebar, "Wisdom begins with questioning. Sanity begins with "No."? That was a phrase I found in a calendar in the middle of last year. It was like a lightbulb going on for me. At the time I was very depressed, and getting increasingly tired of being (as I perceived it) put upon in one way or another. A very bad personal experience where someone I'd tried to help had turned on me in the worst possible way, at the end of the summer of 2000, had left me cynical and bitter and determined not to be such a mug again. This experience actually made me lose all faith in humanity, which was a shame as I was just beginning to come out of the darkness I had felt since January 1997. That one line made me realise that it was time I stopped trying to be all things to all people. Time to start saying "no" and to start putting myself first.

This is fast turning into an epic... but now I've started I will continue. There is a point, and I will get to it, eventually, promise.

In January 1997 I had a breakdown, caused by work-stress. Or rather, stress from the senior managers at work. I don't wish to talk about that, but suffice it to say that it came to a head at a meeting about something very petty, a situation they had manufactured, and I lost it totally and spectacularly. Mr BW took me home and I sat in the same spot, on the same sofa, for 4 days and couldn't move, eat, sleep, talk or anything else. I still don't know why he didn't call a doctor or something. It's lucky he didn't, because I suspect that I should have been taken away and forcibly "helped". So began the 2 years from hell. I didn't smile, laugh or talk when not spoken to from January 27th 1997 to christmas day 1997. No-one could reach me. I refused all offers of help, pharmaceutical or therapeutic. I was beyond that. I knew all the theory of the state I was in. I knew all the cures. And I didn't want to know.

Mr BW broke through it all when he gave me, for a christmas present, a staddle stone. I'd long wanted one. But, rather than it being just stone, he painted spots on it with his old poster paints (his mum had found them in her loft), thinking they'd make the staddle stone look like a toadstool and would wash off after. That made me laugh. The first time in 11 months. Broke the ice, turned the corner. I must have been hell to live with, but he was always there for me, always patient and supporting.

It's taken me until now (6 years) to put it all back together. The spots finally disappeared from the toadstool last November. I saw that as a sign that things would get better, and they have. A couple of nights ago, Mr BW told me that I was beginning to smile and laugh again, like I did when we first knew each other 10 years ago.

Doing the job I do, I always thought I understood the concept of mental health. Not until I was there, in the middle of a huge nightmare of indescribable blackness, terror, and proportions, did I truly understand what it is like to feel completely and utterly out of control of one's everyday life, the things going on in one's head, and one's destiny. From being the most 'sorted' person in my circle of acquaintances, perceived as a solution for all problems (as I described above), I was, all of a sudden and quite unexpectedly, at the bottom of the pile. There was no ladder out of the hole that I was in that I could find. People are scared of you if you have had a breakdown, so I didn't tell anybody. Somehow we kept it from our families and all but a couple of my closest friends. That, of course, compounded the situation, but I was so determined to protect the little self-respect and self-esteem that I had left that I could not bring myself to let people know, lest they laugh at me. With hindsight, I would do things differently.

So, why I am I telling you all this now?

Very simply, because in the last 36 hours I have had several emails requesting support from people I don't know who have stumbled upon Blue Witch. These have touched, but troubled, me a lot. I have also followed back referrals I've picked up in my stats and read some things that disturbed me, because it is obvious that these people are going through the same hell I went through.

I don't have the personal emotional resources to be able to reply to these people, and I don't know what it is that I do or write that makes people turn to me. I never have known that. BUT, I still wanted to do something to try to help them.

I imagine that these people will still be visiting, and I wanted to pass on some things I have learnt the hard way, in case they are of assistance. No-one ever told me how long it could take to work your way out of depression. I wish someone had told me that there are no quick fixes. It's about redefining your world into terms that are congruent with the way you want to live your life. It's about believing in yourself, and being able to rise above what others would have you believe. Nobody is going to tell you the answers. It's a case of sorting it out for yourself. "Help" comes from unexpected sources. You will find it. Eventually, the light at the light at the end of the tunnel isn't an oncoming train.

Most of all, don't be afraid to ask for support from those around you. If there is no-one you can find, there is always The Motley Fool's Comfort Café. For those who don't know, TMF is a discussion-board based community with a heart of finance and investment, but also has tightly and well-moderated boards (that are logical and easy to use) on almost any subject under the sun. It is now a site you have to register with to use, but you can be fairly anonymous. From time to time I have 'lurked' in Comfort Café and can honestly say that I don't know of a better place to go if you need some help in sorting something out. The posters there are honest, constructive, will respect you and take at face value what you say. Co-counselling at its very best.

And finally - to other bloggers - have you ever had this type of email from your readers? If you have, how did you respond? If you haven't, how would you respond?

Thought for the day:

If you talk to yourself you don't get silly answers.

Just discovered (in my old emails!) this wonderful new diet which I felt I must share with you all:

BRIDGET JONES STRESS DIET

This is a specially formulated diet designed to help you cope with the stress that builds up during the day:

BREAKFAST:
1 grapefruit
1 slice whole-wheat toast
1 cup skimmed milk

LUNCH:
small portion lean, steamed chicken with a cup of spinach cup herbal tea
1 miniature MARS® bar

AFTERNOON TEA:
the rest of the mini MARS® bars in the bag
tub of Hagen Daas ice cream with chocolate-chip topping

DINNER:
4 bottles of wine (red or white)
2 loaves garlic bread
1 family size supreme pizza
3 snickers bars

LATE NIGHT SNACK:
Whole frozen Sara Lee cheesecake (eaten directly from the freezer)

REMEMBER: STRESSED SPELLED BACKWARDS IS "DESSERTS"
Fancy that.

And yes, I did note that some in these parts consider that it's naff to re-post email funnies, and that the suggestion is that one grows out of it. Well, I won't, so there :)

Royal Witch

Because BW moves in all the right circles, I can, exclusively, bring you the following Royal Revelations. Straight from the Queen's Award for Industry ceremony at the Palace last Monday evening.

1. The Queen wears loads of make-up.
(My informant says it is the wrong colour for her skin tone, and applied (her actual words were "trowelled on") worse than stage make-up too)

2. A senior female member (guess who?) of the Royal Family spent 5 minutes with my informant bad-mouthing the Government's handling of the whole war situation.

3. Said senior member had a mane hair with more split ends than my informant has ever seen (years ago, she used to have a Saturday job in a hairdressers, too) and had obviously only just taken the large foam roller out of the front of her mane hair, and forgotten to brush it in with the sides of her mane hair.

4. A certain member of The Family, present without his wife, is vulnerable to flirty glances from attractive women (as proved by my informant) and responded by crossing the room to where she was standing, and then spending 10 minutes talking to her. I won't repeat what he said to her, or what else she noticed about him, because I'd probably get beheaded if this ever gets Googled.

Walking on the beaches, looking at the peaches

The long-awaited (by some?, if his recent comments are to be believed)

Sand Witch Guide to the Beaches of Sharm El Sheikh.

(BTW, if you want the serious stuff about this type of 'packaged tourism', then it's here.)

As I've mentioned before, Blue Witch is an impatient Witch. And then some. If there's a quick way to do something, or a short-cut, I'll know it. Such things as waiting in queues, waiting in traffic jams, wandering aimlessly round shops, or people who faff about being indecisive really stress me out. So I avoid them.

Blue Witch's concentration span is fairly short, so unless it's a gripping film, videoed TV programme, or book, there's little chance of it getting watched, or read, before the eyelids descend.

This is particularly true of activities undertaken in the dark, so Mr BW has become adept at monitoring the eyelid situation and can usually stop whatever is going on at precisely the point at which BW falls asleep and reschedule it for another time. That is, of course, true of most, but not all, activities that go on in the dark ;)

So, when lazing on a beach on holiday, Mr BW reads vast quantities of paperbacks and BW pretends to read paperbacks, but actually uses them as a screen to hide behind so as to be able to stare at whatever is going on in the vicinity of her sunlounger, without appearing rude.

Usually Blue Witch bores of this activity fairly quickly and falls asleep anyway, even though it's not dark on beaches. In the daytime at least. But, Egypt was an exception. There was so much going on that was so interesting, probably because the resort was a real melting-pot for the peoples of Europe. Germans and Italians in the majority, but also Russians, Austrians, Belgians, French, Brits and Dutch. In fact, there was enough material gathered to form the basis for a PhD.

During the course of Blue Witch's cross-cultural longitudinal* study, the following observations were made, and the sort of spurious conclusions so favoured by pop-psychology were drawn:

* data was gathered daily over a one week study period

1. Young Italian women are very attractive and often sunbathe topless and bottomless apart from a virtually imperceptible G-string. These G-strings looked very uncomfortable to the Observer (as a woman), and very comfortable to Mr BW (as a man). (Conclusion: There are perceptual differences by gender working here.)

2. Italian women go off the boil very quickly and seem to turn from beautiful nymphos into big fat mammas overnight without a metamorphosing middle-stage. (Suggested cure concluded: Hasta la Pasta (oops, wrong language :)

3. More than 50% of said big fat Italian mammas constantly promenaded up and down the beach by the water's edge, in twos or threes, talking incessantly and loudly, usually all at the same time. Said non-Weight-Watcher fans usually wore bikinis (if you're a visual thinker, sorry for the image that just popped into your head) with their cardigans tied round their waist like waitresses' pinnies. However, their exercise did not appear to reduce the amount of excess fat congregating around their middles. (Conclusion: Talking loudly is not an effective form of exercise.)

4. Different nationalities put on fat in different places at different ages. (Conclusion: In the long term it is intended that this observation form the basis of a more detailed annual study. In the short-term, comparison of the Observer's own body and that of Mr BW with the sample led to the assumption of a strict diet on return to the UK. A sort of, stop the spread before it is too late exercise.)

5. Germans had relinquished the towels on the best sunloungers at 6am habit. (Conclusion: Only because the towel boy didn't start till 8.30am and towels could not be removed to rooms for storage until use at 6am the next day.)

6. Of the sample of males, German men now seem to be the only Europeans to continue to wear tight lycra swimming trunks. (Conclusion: Germans are all exhibitionists, all fetishists, or all lacking in decency.)

7. German men have no, erm, equipment. Given observation 6, they can't have or you'd be able to see it, and you can't. Despite extensive questioning of Mr BW, and appropriate and reasonably extensive prior knowledge of the subject, the Observer still cannot work out where they hide it so invisibly. (Conclusion: German men are eunuchs).

8. German men frequently walk out into the sea to the point at which the bottom of their tight trunks are just covered by the water. They then stand with their hands on their hips looking nonchalantly around out to sea for a period varying from 10-30 seconds, before returning to their sunloungers.

9. Some Russian men do similarly. A sub-set of this sample peer down the front of their swimming shorts as they leave the water. (Conclusion: Both Russian and German men are incapable of walking 100 yards from the beach to the hotel lavatories; it would be improper to speculate about exactly what some Russian men were investigating).

10. There were more British Northerners than Southerners. Most of Northerners' utterances are made in loud, thickly accented, voices reminiscent of When the Boat Comes In and Hovis advertisements. (Conclusion: Northerners go on holiday to provide holiday entertainment for Southerners.)

11. Teenage girls are fair game for Egyptian waiters; teenage girls seem to be able to escape the supervision of their parents rather too easily. (Conclusion: Watch for a rise in the European abortion rates.)

Attempts were made to calculate the combined weight of human flab visible during the study. The Observer gave up and instead read this hilarious account of fat instead (from alexasks, via spellcnut).

Blue Witch's conclusion: foreign bodies on beaches just aren't attractive

Blue Witch's personal learning from this research project: beaches are places where those of us who are beginning to show signs of middle-age spread should go to view the 5, 10, 15, 20 and 25 year effects of doing nothing about it. Pass me another stick of celery, please.
.
NB BW is currently seeking a research grant to further this study. All possible leads will be gratefully explored.

Oh, and the piccies of beach life that I promised you in the comments the other night Dave? I lied.

Question for the day 2:

How do you put all the 15 keystrokes needed for a link onto a one-key command?

Question for the day:

Can one buy cannabis plug plants? I believe I need them for my erm, bad spells, and the seeds are sooo difficult to germinate. You can buy little baby plants of everything else these days, so I just thought.... ;)

Thought for the day:

It takes much less effort to listen than to speak.

Glad you all enjoyed the

Glad you all enjoyed the little light entertainment I left you with before I went out earlier. You're all nearly as SAD as me :)

May I make a Witchy request of you, please?
Could you spare 2 minutes and 48 seconds of your time (well, that's how long it took me!) to support the next generation of graduates? The nephew of a good friend of mine is a final year student at Nottingham Business School and is carrying out an on-line survey here, to inform his dissertation into "current attitudes of Internet users towards commercial web sites."

Thanks for your help. I grant you one piece of magic as a reward. Tell me what you fancy and I'll spell it for you :)

Free entertainment:

Click here (don't worry, it's worksafe!)

(NB if you are using IE6 you may have a few problems with the Macromedia flash - check the bottom of the page! - I a young friend of mine got it to work using the Canadian option).

Another in the "So I don't lose good links in my Favourites" series...

With apologies to whoever it was who first posted the link to this, in Pre-Witch times (I've forgotten so can't acknowledge you), a truly brilliant piece of work, one of the best I have seen on the net. I love the words that pop up in the background. There's one particular gem, near the end - see if you can spot it. And, SAD to say, I actually love the song too. Great memories of the late '80s, driving 26 miles to work every morning across Toller Down in Dorset. Sun rising through the mist, no traffic around at all, straight road (and no men with hairdryers), sheep frolicking in the fields, car stereo blaring... Brilliant.

So, what's wrong with Billy Joel anyway? He and I had a very happy relationship 20 or so years ago. Very happy, until it started to get too firey.

Enjoy. I did.

Thought for the day:

Paradoxical as it may seem, to believe in youth is to look backward; to look forward, we must believe in age."
- Dorothy L. Sayers

In other words, this probably means, "You're only as old as the man/woman you feel." Probably.

Money Witch: The Piggy Bank

Those of you in London who have annual or monthly travelcards may be entitled to a partial refund if you normally travel on the currently closed Central or Waterloo and City lines. You can register for any refund online.

I've seen an e-mail doing the rounds publicising this, suggesting that the refund may be around £4 per day for every day the line you use normally is out of action, although I don't know if this is the case. It also suggests that it doesn't matter if you "live on the Central line or not", although I wouldn't have thought LT would be keen to dish out refunds to all travelcard holders (the form asks for details of your normal journey). The refund would cover the period the relevant line was out of action, which is 25th January until whenever it is up and running again.

Just think of what you could do with all the dosh you could make...

Ever since I posted a

Ever since I posted a jokey, very tongue in cheek poke at those obsessed with their site stats (the "new Witchy game"), I've been getting some very weird visitors. Obviously following my advice. Following them back, I cannot see how they could have got here at all. Searches from Google.de and Google.br have featured pretty heavily, and BW is not listed in the search results given. Guess someone has found a higher order version of my game. Well done :)

However, I have just found this in my logs. A site where you can post your "disturbing search results". Thought it might interest you ASWs who don't already know about it?

One of my recent "Thought

One of my recent "Thought for the day"s was a line from 'Private Hell' by the Jam, a track from 'Setting Sons'. The lyric just popped into my mind, with everything that was going on for me at the time. I only ever had Setting Sons on cassette and that wore out long ago (but...yes you've guessed it... I do still have it). So, having an Amazon voucher to spend (Amazon give me oh so many vouchers cos I'm always being a grumpy Witch when something turns up late or damaged - to carry on this game indefinitely though, you do need to change your identity regularly and to have several credit cards, one for each identity (they don't seem to cross reference by address, only by name and credit card details)), I ordered it on CD. Digitally remastered no less. It's just turned up (my spells to get the postman here at a reasonable time are still failing). Playing it at top volume. Bloody brilliant. I love it! Can't sit still!! Happy memories of the 6 months I spent in France as an au pair when I was 17. Me, a cassette player and 4 tapes. (I feel another draft blog coming on.. :)

Problem is, it's only 32:42 long. Not long enough, I'll have to put it on random auto repeat.

Why, though, do I not like Paul Weller's solo stuff at all? And why do tracks on an album always sound different when you put them on in a random order?

Popping bubble wrap - Blue

Popping bubble wrap - Blue Witch likes :)

Opening up internet access:

Just occasionally I get really, really, excited about a new concept in accessibility for those with special needs of one sort or another. I have just stumbled across http://www.symbolworld.org/. Thought I'd post it up here, because, although it probably won't be of much interest to anyone other than me, I shan't then lose it amidst the 2000 or so sites in my favourites (yes, I know...). It is the first web site that I am aware of that is truly accessible for non-readers. Any symbol user anywhere can now 'read' age appropriate stories, jokes, news items, about science and tons more. They can also contribute to the internet and feel an equal part of this growing phenomenon. Maybe there will be blogs in symbols before too long?

Question for the day:

How long is too long for a blog entry?

Thought for the day:

All one needs in this life is a sense of humour and a tenuous grip on everything.

(teehee, recycling at its best that one - straight out of yesterday's comment box)

It's *so* frustrating, these comments

It's *so* frustrating, these comments systems being down, isn't it? Spoils the whole experience. Oh what a sad Witch I am becoming. I suppose I could be 'SAD', 'Sad' and 'sad' on different days, though, couldn't I?

5.30pm update: YESSS!!! comments are back, on here anyway :)

I've just found a wonderful advantage to having entered my 4th decade. My bike insurance has come tumbling doooown in price. 4 years NCD has helped. £116.60 fully comp., including the IPT, for protected NCD and only £100 excess. Yippee!!! Don't tell Mr BW, but I did also ask them for a quote in case I get carried away in the showroom when I take current trusty stead (GSF 600 S Bandit) in for its MOT next week. I know *exactly* what I would like. And in what colour. And how much it costs. And what's more, I can (probably, just about, maybe) afford it. And the insurance would only be £42 more :)) Now *that's* why I've been hoarding money in the cheque account of our offset mortgage rather than moving it out of harm's way into the mortgage account.

Mr BW desires a Mini Cooper S. I have a soft spot for Minis, a nice royal blue one having been my first car. However, I need a new bike more. And I deserve it. I think I must have been exposed to too much advertising recently. Its effects are apparent.

Revealing Blue Witch

You'll have to wait just a smidgey bit longer for the full story explaining "Why 'Blue Witch'?"

And, for the reader who emailed to ask for a picture, I am sorry, you ain't getting one. Find yourself another new dart board cover.

However, I got to thinking last night when I noticed that one of my comments boxers looked *exactly* like the little man who tends to my PC in its hours of need. I don't think I'll say anything more than that, cos it is just possible that said geek nice little man might one day, while fixing something else on my PC, see "Blue Witch" as one of the email addresses I collect from and get curious. He noticed the nickname I use on certain discussion boards, after all. Nearly fell off his chair laughing at that, I might add. I had to point out to him that in the annual contract I have with him it states, "Nice Little Man undertakes not to disclose any details of the client's data or personal information learnt in the course of Nice Little Man's work with the client's PC." However, I digress. As usual.

A couple of years ago I caught up with a special old school friend after many years of only exchanging christmas cards and the odd letter (and yes, they were odd letters, we both went through our dark, dark times, luckily and thankfully usually not at the same moments). Afterwards she sent me an email attaching a picture which she said looks just like me. Personally I don't see the resemblance. If only ;) The nose is wrong, the chin is wrong, the build is wrong and I have *blue* eyes, of course. And, even more fortunately (IMHO), the bloke this supposed "double" is with looks nothing like Mr BW.

But, that's about the closest most of you are going to get to seeing BW. Probably.

Tell me, tell me, tell me, is that sort-of how you imagined BW would look?

Apology to all disenfranchised Comment-ators in other areas

*coughs nervously* OK, so you know I'm Blue Witch, the Witch with the Wonky Wand, right? You know the difficulties I have with some of my spells? And you understand the problems I have with Enetation? Well, I confess to have been doing lots of spells recently so they will let me log in and change the white on blue in my posting area. I think I may have gone a bit wrong with my spells, as it seems I've taken out Haloscan, and now Yaccs too (earlier anyway, when I last checked). Sorry about the mis-spell. I am currently working to resolve it. Not least because there are lots of things I need to SAY.

Update 12.05pm F*UCK. Enetation has now flopped too. Off to find some more things to toss in the cauldron in an effort to solve these spelling problems...

The Blue Witch Style of Writing

(... if you can call it that)

I used to love writing when I was in my teens. The experience was spoiled for me when I entered a profession where serious, analytical, easily understood and unambiguous report writing was a requirement. After 15 years of doing that, even writing a thank-you note became a chore for me. The advent of email began to re-open my love of certain "conventions", but only with certain e-correspondents. The rest just required even tighter use of language, and short boring replies. Not me (well, I don't think so anyway).

It's only in the last few weeks, since spawning Blue Witch (BW doesn't do giving birth to things) that I have begun to enjoy writing again. It has been so good for me to be creative and rid my head of some of the cotton wool that has been sitting around and find that some people actually enjoy reading it (erm, you do, don't you?). Actually, I've got so carried away that I currently have 37 part-written (eventually to be longish) posts in WordPad, and another 100 or so in my head. I've a lot of catching up to do, all those years of repressed creativity! Interestingly, since being linguistically creative again, I have also started to feel much better, psychologically. Haven't got much else done, but, what the heck. Mood is everything when you tend to being a SAD Witch. Actually, I always feel better when I am creative in any arty or crafty sense (eg designing and creating The Coven Garden, cooking, glass engraving, making cards etc etc).

I suppose I should be asking you what you think these "conventions" might be, but, if success in my recent questions is anything to go by, I'd be wasting my time. So, I'm going to tell you instead. Just so you can play, "Spot the BW Favourite Convention" when you're reading in future. Actually, that should be, "Favourite Covention" methinks. I have no idea what the technical terms are for most of these, nor do I care. I believe in Plain English. When it suits me to, of course :)

Blue Witch delights in:

• made up words (or words that are slightly made up)
  
• hanging sentences (eg but...), that's:
  
• ellipsis (cor, look, I do know one technical term, no idea what it means, but just thought I'd slip it in anyway)
  
• puns
  
• double entendre
  
• nested clauses (I once wrote an 18 line long paragraph containing 8 different clauses, and no full stops. No-one except me could follow it :)
  
• using smilies (*future post under construction*)
  
• using the same word in as many different ways as possible in one sentence set of nested clauses
  
• digressions and asides
  
• being deliberately obtuse

Question for the day:

Is having a smoking area in a restaurant not the same as having a pee-ing area in a pool?

Thought for the day:

The future can never disappoint the way the past always can.

Driving Blue Witch

Out in the broomstick in the glorious, if cold, sunshine this afternoon, I was going round a large roundabout in the outside lane. A white Astra van with "Motorway Maintenance" checkers and a black "Traffic Safety Officer" sticker on it was going round the inside lane. As I reached my exit, the van pulled right across in front of me, without signalling, and at the last minute. Nearly took the side out of the broomstick. Was saved by my usual Witchy premonition (or the fact that I've driven well over a quarter of a million miles in my time and was half expecting it anyway).

Given the "Traffic Safety Officer" sticker on the van, I couldn't stop myself ringing the "How's My Driving?" 0800- number also displayed.

A very nice lady answered the phone, took the registration number, waited while the computer did its stuff, then exclaimed, "Oh SHIT, he's already had two accidents this year. I am so sorry. What can I say?" I did get an assurance from her that she would speak to the Traffic Safety Officer's Line Manager about the advisability of transferring him to a desk-job. In the meantime, Mr Driver of V804 *** you are in my spells. Idiot.

The fourth lovely example of

The fourth lovely example of my feelings on the absolute futility of war.

The three other examples can be found here, here, and here.

(thanks to Dave for the link, shame Haloscan comments are all down atm or I'd have been able to tell you that you have now made me laugh enough to join the elite on my sidebar :)

Consumer Witch

Investigations are underway into a potential blogland scam.

Current suspicions are that the perpetrator is seeking to enhance his birthday fund as he has decided that he fancies something mentioned that costs more than £100.

Readers are advised to do their own research before parting with any money.

Update, 18.02.03, 10am: In an effort to throw Blue Witch off the scent, the birthday fund evidential post referred to has been moved (shock, horror!) to here. We are watching you, Mr Geezer. And checking our links regularly. Especially when we are tipped the wink ;)

We had a really productive

We had a really productive weekend at The Coven.

Got done all those little tasks that we had been putting off for far too long, the ones that have to be done on a regular basis (but are often avoided, by me anyway, like, cleaning out the hens), all the ones we set out to do, and a whole load of other stuff.

So, I'm feeling really pleased with myself today. Bags of energy and the desire to polish off a couple of reports that have been hanging around for too long. Even have Steve Earle playing noisily in the backforeground. That only happens when I am in in certain positive frame of mind. Not often, then :)

I feel so much better. Two things are helping:

1. Blogging (reading and writing) sorting some muddly stuff out in my head and making me realise that there are other people out there who I can identify with on all sorts of levels (living in a rural area with a largely aging population, not going to work, and not having kids (or the desire to associate with those who do) is very isolating in social, intellectual and cultural terms), and,

2. Giving up alcohol. At least until the end of the month. Just one week into this new regime there is so much more time in the day and I am waking up feeling refreshed and positive. More on this in the future, no doubt.

Addendum: Just found another track for the Blue Witch Top Twenty - on Copperhead Road, Steve Earle has "Even When I'm Blue". I'd forgotten all about that one. BTW, contributions to the Top Twenty are still being sought...

Thought for the day:

The difficulty of selling your soul in a buyers' market.

How many of you have

How many of you have read a blog that: crystallises lots of thoughts and questions and uneases that have been whirling round in your head, makes you think eureka!, allows you to breathe a sigh of relief that you can stop trying to make sense of them because someone else has done it for you, and so helps you to move your thoughts on?
mal Steve wrote a brilliant post last night that did this for me.

I couldn't fit all I wanted to say into his comments box, so thought I'd stick down my immediate thoughts and responses here, before I lost them.

I am always thinking. I think far too much, worry far too much, and often see far too many hidden meanings and possible pitfalls that aren't there at all. I cope with this by saying, "I'd rather be a surprised pessimist than a disappointed optimist." I also like to think that I am a pretty good judge of character (only one serious slip-up there in as long as I can remember) and situations (a few more slip-ups there, but I've learnt from them, and that's what's important, isn't it?)

Sometimes, at the beginning of some new experience or venture, there are so many things going on in my head that I find it hard to know where to start making sense of them. In the past, writing things down has helped (Blue Witch loves lists - but that's a blog for another day). But, sometimes, it is almost too scary to start writing things down because I don't really want to spoil the "buzz" in my head and rationalise things by analysing them too soon.

The whole subject of blogging has fascinated me since DG introduced me to the concept last October. Actually, it was on the 14th. One of those momentous dates that will stick in my head. Until then, despite being what you might call a "heavy intenet user", I hadn't really been aware of blogging other than to know at a superficial level that news had sometimes got out of various countries in conflict through people's web journals.

Maybe because I am a new blogger, but probably more likely because of the sort of person I am, I have a few more questions to add to Steve's original list. If I may, of course, because,

How many of you have worried about building on someone else's blog idea?

That's a dilemma that concerns me a lot, because I'm a very creative thinker, but need thoughts and ideas to think on. Building on others' ideas is what I do best, and I don't want to piss people off. I detest plagiarism (that's another blog for another time too) and will always quote my sources, if I know them. But, it still bothers me.

Anyway, here are some further questions to add to the list (*thinks* - people will know how paranoid I really am now; *second thinks* - what the hell, they may as well know now, just in case they hadn't already sussed it!):

How many of you have worried about borrowing (OK then, copying or adapting) someone else's good idea/layout/link?

How many of you worry about what others might think about what you are writing (or choosing not to write)?

How many of you breathe a sigh of relief when Blogger is down because you have other things that you really should be doing, but you'd rather be blogging?

How many of you love writing with tags round things because it reminds you of the Amstrad Locoscript PCW8512 that you began your word processing with?

How many of you have spent ages searching for that elusive mising tag that has landed you in Blogger's safe mode?

How many of you wish you had copied something long, that you typed directly into Blogger or onto a comments board (thinking that it was going to be short), before you pressed publish and lost the whole lot when the system crashed?

How many of you wake up in the night with a brilliant idea which you just have to write down before you lose it?

How many of you feel that you are restricted in what you write just in case someone you know or love stumbles across your blog in the future?

How many of you are careful to conceal your identity due to concerns connected with your profession or career?

How many of you worry that people might not like what you post on their comments boards?

How many of you are perturbed if no-one posts anything in your comments box against a post you'd have liked some feedback on?

Whew, that feels much better to have cleared my head of that lot. Thanks Steve for being the catalyst.

I reckon there's a PhD in this here blogging business. Or has someone beaten me to it already?

Question for the day:

Why do we say, for example, "a 5 foot bed", a "40 foot garden", or "he's 6 foot tall", but refer to, "a bed 6 feet wide", "a garden 40 feet long" or "that man is 6 feet tall"?

It's the only example I can think of where what should be a plural is used in the singular, apparently incorrectly, and I can't work out why.

Is it just bad use of English, or is there a reason for it that this Simple Witch cannot fathom?

Thought for the day:

Never do tomorrow what you could do today, because if you do it today and like it, you can do it again tomorrow.

I'm having a bit of

I'm having a bit of difficulty sleeping at the moment, as you may have guessed from the time of some of my recent posts. However, I have been putting the extra time in the day to good use. I have been reading blogs. I have been sorting out the e-files. I believe in a clear-inbox policy (like a clear-desk policy, but for my email). I believe in it, but, sadly, it doesn't often happen. Because I just can't hit "delete" without reading an email. Just in case. In case of what I've not yet decided.

However, to get to the point (just for a change), I found an old funny from 12th April last year. It had me creased up laughing, and, although it's well past its sell-by date now, it's getting stuck up here anyway.

Excerpts from the Queen Mum's Book of Condolences

"I think that the Queen Mum and Princess Diana are our very own Twin Trade Towers. At last we can look the people of New York in the face".
L.Ward, Mansfield.

Doesn't anyone know the answer

Doesn't anyone know the answer to this question?

The Solution to the VD Conundrum

Don't have unprotected sex

You could pick up the old lady, because she is going to die, and thus you should save her first; or you could take the old friend because she once saved your life, and this would be the perfect chance to pay her back. However, you may never be able to find your perfect dream lover again.

Whilst "mal Steve" (I don't expect he's going to like that nickname, but, what the heck, BW likes acronyms - he should have thought more carefully about his blog title, he made it too easy - and, you can't please all the people all of the time :) came up with the socially acceptable answer to this moral/ethical question (which is sometimes used in personnel selection tests - so TAKE NOTE of the full logic below, you never know when the knowledge I am about to impart will get you that next job), it is not my preferred answer.

The answer that will get you the job: "I would give the car keys to my old friend and let her take the lady to the hospital. I would stay behind and wait for the bus with the man/woman of my dreams." (you are demonstrating that you are able to give up your stubborn thought limitations and are able to engage in lateral thinking (as you'd say if you lived in the sUe.S.A., your ability to "Think Outside of the Box."))

However,

The answer that will get you a laugh: "I would run the old lady over and put her out of her misery, shag* the perfect man/woman against the bus stop and drive off with the old friend for some beers."

* depending on your assessment of the offensibility (BW likes made up words) of the interviewer, you may prefer to use the terminology "have sex with"

Thought for the day:

If you don't laugh you cry.

Laughter is the best medicine.

Cor, Mr BW is really

Cor, Mr BW is really getting into the blogging idea.
He'll be starting his own Coven soon, I can tell :)

He's just supplied me with some "material" - a conundrum, specially for Valentine's Day.

Post your answers to the comments box.

You are driving along in your car on a wild, stormy night, when you pass by a bus stop, and you see three people waiting for the bus:

1. An old lady who looks as if she is about to die.

2. An old friend who once saved your life.

3. The perfect man (or woman) you have been dreaming about.

Which one would you choose to offer a lift to, knowing that there could only be one passenger in your car?

A couple of weeks ago I asked readers for some help in deciding whether Mr BW should be told the location of BW's "project" (he knew BW was up to something computer-y, but not what or where, and was dying to find out.)

It was all very light-hearted, and I always planned to tell him - one day!

A big thank you to those who voted, entering survey number 3675 (blimey, do I really have 23 readers who bothered to vote or was *one* of you just being nice?!).

The results to the question, "Should Blue Witch tell Mr Blue Witch where to find her spells?" were:

Yes - 60.87% (14 votes)
No - 17.39% (4 votes)
Make up your own mind you silly Witch! - 17.39% (4 votes)
Who cares? 4.35% (1 vote) (charming!!!)

I *nearly* told Mr BW the url of .BW while we were in Egypt on holiday last week (there were dozens of internet cafés in Sharm El Sheikh, and he did keep trying to prise it out of me, in the nicest possible way ;)

But, sometimes I like being a tease, so I didn't put him out of his misery.

BUT I've slipped the location of The Coven into his Valentine's Day card today (less fattening than chocolate!)

So, best behaviour in the comment boxes today folks, please, we have Mr BW along now... :)

Thought for the day, Part 1

Shit happens. Deal with it. (frequently said by my oldest male friend)

Thought for the day, Part 2

We're all going through our own private hell (The Jam, Setting Sons, c1978)

Thought for the day, Part 3

Lovers grow old but true love doesn't (that's for you Mr BW, my lover, my rock, my soul-mate and my best friend, the person who, 10 years and 54 days ago today, I never thought I'd find)

Today, after what I've heard,

Today, after what I've heard, there is *nothing* left, in me, emotionally, to give to anyone else.

I feel totally, utterly drained, wrung out, numb, helpless and a few other things that I can't begin to try to give names to. This is a very rare occurrence for me, because no matter how personally challenged I may feel at times, no matter what torment has been going round in my head, I can usually find just a little bit more, somewhere, for someone who I can see needs it.

I don't even feel like blogging, but I'm making myself, in the light of the posts/comments that have been going on over at my ace life in the past couple of days.

I left the house at 8am this morning and got back at 6.30pm, and didn't stop at all even for cups of tea (most unlike me). The Deputy Head of the school I was working in today gave me the most genuine, unexpected and sincere compliment I can recall ever receiving. She said that I was, "The most thorough, considerate and professional person" that she had ever worked with. She is a person I have a lot of respect, and alot of time, for. All of these values are central to my personal constructs (I will blog more on the subject of personal constructs at a later date as it is a particular interest of mine), and, had I not heard what I was told at 8.30am this morning, I would have grown at least 2 inches above my already tall 5' 9" and been floating about in "Proud Land" for at least the next 2 days.

When I started BW (nearly 6 weeks ago now, amazingly), I had some sort of idea about how I wanted it to go. I was inspired by Mr BW who reckoned I should find some outlet for passing on Witchy Tips about Thrifty and Cunning Ways of making one pound do the work of ten. He even suggested I call it (wherever "it" was meant to have its genesis was unspecified) "The Piggy Bank" (because I love pigs, and because it sounds more fun than any of the other money management things about).

I certainly had no intention whatsoever of posting the sort of thing i am writing now.

But I have been inspired to think it might help here. By some weird co-incidence (another of my planned blog themes that hasn't really materialised), my blog daddy (I hate that expression (am I the only one?), and just cannot perceive DG in those terms anyway) (sorry DG!), added 2 other blogs to his sidebar when he added BW. I have been very touched by [searched a long time for clever words here and couldn't find the right ones, so will just keep it simple] recent posts by one of these bloggers, and comments by the other. Just occasionally in this life, I have bumped into people (often in very unexpected places) who I feel talk my language. I often feel quite lonely in the sense of not finding people to connect with who "understand" what it is like to see more dimensions to "life" and "things" [searching for words again here, which is also very unlike me] than many people do. So, it's been quite weird for me recently, anyway, before today.

So [I can't put it off any longer, I've got to get this bit out now], at 8.30am this morning, on a crackly mobile phone line which dropped my call 3 times in quick succession, I discovered that my 3 year old nephew's 8 year-old half-sister was involved in an accident last week in which her 8 year old best friend was killed and she nearly lost her leg.

I cannot imagine what it must be like to see your best friend die in front of you. At any age, let alone 8 (and she is already a very emotionally troubled little girl due to other life events).

The girls were cycling to school with the dead girl's father and brother when it happened.

I cannot imagine what it must feel like for that father to have seen his 8 year old daughter die in front of him.

I cannot imagine what it must be like to be that girl's mother.

The girls were knocked down, while stationary at a junction, waiting to turn, by an 18-year-old hit and run driver (who has since been found).

I cannot imagine what it must feel like for that 18 year old. Now or for the rest of her life.

Today I worked with an 8 year old girl who had little self confidence and little self-esteem. Just like my nephew's half-sister. I kept wondering how this little girl would be if she had had to face a similar tragedy. I don't know how I kept it together, let alone managed to do a piece of work that warranted such high praise as that I described above.

I got home, emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted at 6.30pm. Mr BW had got in just before me.

He looked dreadful.

He told me that his closest colleague's wife had been diagnosed with a brain tumour yesterday afternoon. They have an autistic 15 year old son.

I can imagine what it is like to have a brain tumour, because I lived that horror, for several weeks, back in 1991.

I can imagine what it is like to have an autistic child. And the prospect of having to cope alone with him

I cannot imagine what it must be like to have to face the prospect of the person you love most in the world dying before you in their mid-forties. The person you had planned to spend the rest of your life with.That is *my* personal biggest fear.


I usually tinker with my posts before I post them, and often after too.

I hope you will understand if I don't do that here. I want to leave it with all its imperfections, because that is how *I* feel right now. So imperfect, and so unable to help, in any way. Because I am too far away. Both these families live in the States. I cannot go to them, I cannot offer them anything that I could normally offer in this sort of situation. Except my love and thoughts.

And I think it has helped putting this all down, however incoherently. Thanks, Steve, for making me realise I could do it.


And, to anyone who reads this, don't feel you shouldn't / cant comment. I've read "high emotion" things recently that I have wanted to comment on, but haven't felt able to lest my comments appear trite or insincere. Your comments will help, I'm sure. Whatever they say, at whatever level. Thanks.

Thought for the day:

Today's acceptable euphemism quickly becomes tomorrow's pejorative label.

Can we go to war

Can we go to war Mr President?
Can we?
Can we?



Pretty Pleeeeeaassseeee!!


This makes a lovely pair with the excellently amusing (and tragically true) American World Map on overyourhead (via myacelife).

No idea of the source, I am afraid, it came via Mr BW's e-correspondents.

I'm trying bloody hard not to send it to Number 10.
Guess I'm on MI6's files now though...

Wicked New Witchy Game

I know that if I put a more detailed stats meter on here than that which Blogger provides, I could spend far too much time gazing at it and analysing it. Others (no links needed here methinks) do (they often say so), so knowing my fascination for useless statistics, so would I.

But. I have just thought of a great new game. Totally moronic, but, nonetheless, one I must try out. Sometime.

It's like this...

Find a blog whose owner is an avid-stats watcher (probably any site with a sitemeter icon visible). Click on the icon and have a good nose at who is visiting them. Go to some of the sites listed and bookmark them. The more obscure the better. Then, next time you want to visit the selected blog, go into it from one of the obscure bookmarked sites, or, use search strings containing words that person has blogged, and go into it from the search engine listing.

The described game should lead to a spin-off new game for the ASWs (avid stats watchers) - guessing which sites are being used to confuse their stats watching. So we should all be happy, eh? (maybe :( ?)

Now, you may think this game sounds a trifle sad.
Particularly if you fear becoming a victim yourself ;)

However, I would contend that it is no sadder than many things that many people engage in. For instance, PS2 and the like (don't get me started on that hobby horse). And, as most site meters also give you an IP or ISP for visitors, some degree of cross-checking is possible for the ASWs.

It's just a Witchy idea. I won't do it. Probably...

Actually, from the stats I have, I suspect some people were ahead of me in thinking up this game?

More things your heart might desire

My local supermarket is proudly proclaiming, in a variety of differently sized pink heart-shaped stick-ons in the windows, "Love Starts at Sainsbury's."

Presumably they are about to introduce those late night singles shopping sessions?

I'll know for sure after Friday, of course.

Everything your heart desires

The Blue Witches don't really do gadgets.
Not in a consumeristic, pretentious way, anyway.

If we've got them, it's because they make our lives easier/simpler rather than because we "need" them in a Keeping-Up-With-The-Jones type way.

The way some people use / "display" their mobile phones ostentatiously really annoys me.
But then, I guess I've had a mobile since 1992, when it was a necessity (for my personal safety) and a very useful tool (that year I did 26,000 business miles, often late at night in desserted parts of the country, and often working with disturbed and/or vulnerable people). I don't *need* to put my phone on the table when I am out, just to flash it about. I don't *need* to have a naff ringtone so that everyone looks as I answer it when it rings. And I certainly don't need it to be 3 cms by 2 cms and 1 cm thick just to impress. I've had only 4 phones since 1992 and I still like my original Sony Mars-Bar look-alike best.

We don't have a DVD player, because we don't *need* one (I fall asleep in films and Mr BW has an amazing memory for film plots and will only ever watch something once).

We don't have satellite TV because we don't *need* more "processed entertainment" (we make our own!!).

Kitchen appliances in The Coven are robust, practical, and used until they break irreparably rather than replaced on a whim of so-called style.

BUT...

Ever since I first saw a commercial orange juicer in a hotel in Athens (nearly 2 years ago now) I have wanted one.
Badly.
I love fresh juice and although we have a perfectly adequate and very functional Kenwood press-electric juicer (about 6 or 7 years old now), I'd love a really big, automatic juicer.

Have you seen them? A sort of a big Mousetrap Game type contraption, free standing, the size of an upright fridge. The oranges go in a slot at the top, get cut in half by a blade and proceed along various tubes and through various processes (all of which you can admire as the machine is transparent) until the juice is dispensed into a jug on one side and the empty shells (rinds?) come out of the other side (all ready for the compost bin - see, I've got it all worket out!).

On the BBC Breakfast Business News this morning Mr BW saw a picture of a Cadbury's Creme Egg making machine. I'm not a chocoholic, but he is, and creme eggs are one of his favourites.

I think I may just be able to broker a deal with him - your needless gadget for mine :)

I haven't dared Google for a supplier of commercial orange juicers.

Yet...

Erm, remind me, what was it I was saying about Gadgets? ;)

Thought for the day:

You cannot change the past.
But you can change the future.
Why not start today?

Hot off the email funnies

Hot off the email funnies comes possibly the best chicken joke ever?

A chicken and an egg are lying in bed.
The chicken is leaning against the headboard smoking a cigarette with a satisfied smile on its face. The egg, looking a bit pissed off, grabs the sheet and rolls over and says, "Well, I guess we finally answered THAT question."

Well, I hadn't heard it before...

Is Blogger so shocked at

Is Blogger so shocked at the length / substance of that last post that it has changed all the text of my previous entries to bold?

The bold tags are still in situ if I look at them in edit mode, but not on the pages.

Any suggestions anyone, please?

Thought for the day

Yes, I know they are usually short and to the point, but today's is a bit different...
Bear with me through the waffle and read to the end (or just scroll down to the bottom, if you must).
I do get to the point, honest. Eventually ;)

The Hidden Costs of Tourism

When you have livestock (well, OK, a few hens, fish and cats), a large (high-maintenance) garden, some notion of being self-sufficient in organically produced fruit and vegetables, and you keep bees, there is little point in attempting a holiday during the summer months.

Add to that the fact that I get very depressed and stressed at the slightest thing in the absence of sunshine and 'enough' hours of daylight, and you might begin to see why we holiday in late winter.

Every year since 1997 we have left soggy, dark, cold and dead England in the bleak days of late January and returned in early February to find longer days, snowdrops and hope on the horizon.

To find the climate we seek usually involves a long-haul flight, but Mr Blue Witch is a veteran of those, having (until recently) travelled extensively on business. Travelling with such a person is always a pleasure as they know all the little tricks to ensure a comfortable flight, and how to obtain the best available line in seat allocations, upgrades, freebies or beverages. It's also great fun watching them try to beat their all-time record for number of miniature bottles of spirits procured (but not drunk) during one flight (I think it is currently 34). And, no matter how bad the situation you may find yourself in during your process of transportation from one airport to another, they have always been in a much worse situation, somewhere, at some time. That is comforting; well, to me at least. However, I digress.

This year, due to the recent and current serious illnesses of some family members, we did not feel we wanted to be too far away from the UK, nor to be away for more than a week, just in case.

So, taking advice from acquaintances and various discussion boards, we decided to try Sharm El Sheikh on the Red Sea / South Sinai coast of Egypt. We had certain concerns about this as a destination - largely because it seemed too cheap (£300 each for a week B&B in a 5 star hotel, including flights). I had visions of Benidorm-in-Egypt (with apologies to anyone who might like Benidorm, but I am a peace-and-quiet Witch who detests over-commercialism, over-consumption, loud clubs full of drunken teenagers, and the general pretense and plasticity of that type of package holiday). But, it seemed to be pretty much the only place that fitted our requirements - less than 5 hours flying time away, with January temperatures in at least the mid-20s, and the promise of good beaches, snorkelling and diving, but not much else to do except the opportunity to de-stress and laze.

So, we arrived at the airport at Sharm around 6pm local time, to be met with lungfulls of the most cigarette-smoke laden air I have ever had the misfortune to breathe in an airport (although Mr BW assured me, as usual, that he had experienced far worse), small scurrying Egyptians pulling suitcases off baggage reclaims and holding them hostage until you paid them for the privilege of having saved you the 'effort' of retrieving your own bag, and the usual general disorder and disquiet found in airports outside of the sUe.S.A and UK. Having uncovered a local scam (yet more Egyptians charging people to put their bags in the coach that was to take us on the 10-minute journey to our hotel, when they had already, apparently, been paid-off by the tour operator), we eventually got to the hotel.

At first, all seemed wonderful. A clean, spacious suite, 7 foot bed, attentive, courteous staff, beautiful tropical garden surrounding sparkling swimming pools and a beach with clean sand, a fish-laden reef ideal for snorkelling only feet from the shore just across the road.

Then, when we walked into the main "hub" of Na'ama Bay (tourist epicentre), we began to resent being pestered by young men trying to persuade us, in pigeon English, to go to see their souvenir/perfume/jewellery/tee-shirt/etc shop. Usually we ignore people pestering us, or pretend to not speak whatever language it is they are using (I have the definite advantage, when abroad, of being not immediately identifiable as English and often get accused of being Dutch, French or Russian - not sure which I prefer though), but these were multi-lingual experts, and not easily put off. So eventually we got wise and told them, in whatever language we fancied at the time, "No, THANKS." Most eventually got the message. And a few bright shopkeepers had actually sussed that more people actually went into their shops to look, and then maybe buy, if they weren't being menaced under duress to do so. Not that there was much, other than kitsch tat, to buy anyway (although some of our fellow travellers obviously disagreed, if what they carried onto the plane at the end of the holiday is anything to judge by).

Over a few days I developed an in-head image of the most desirable/lucrative occupations within the resort. And it is very much a resort. Built, from nothing, over the last 10 years, in the middle of the desert (geographically very much like Las Vegas).
Curious Blue Witches as always, we walked beyond the bounds of the current development, into the rock of the desert and looked at the physical growth of the area, and the obvious signs for rapid future expansion. We also ventured into the locals areas where tourists don't usually go and aren't particularly welcomed. But, it is the social anthropology and social identity that interests me most in areas where the demands of the Western World impinge on other cultures. I'm also very nosey. And a smile usually opens all sorts of doors for me :)

All workers in the resort were, without exception that we saw, male. Local women were not in evidence, except on Saturday when a few were seen (well, their eyes only were seen, behind their Moslem dress). The rest lived, presumably, either out-of-the-area, or huddled in back rooms in the locals housing areas. On several occasions we were walking down the back road of the hotel when busloads of workers came in - jaunty, cocky young men, with obvious personalities, and the usual sense of apparently carefree camaraderie found amongst that age group. Within minutes they were depersonalised and transformed into neatly uniformed and uniformly polite automatons who could deliver a set response to a set phrase from a hotel guest in any one of 8 different languages.

My mental list of desirable jobs had government officials at its head, followed by public sector employees (both, apparently enjoying greater power, authority, and security of tenure than resort staff), shopkeepers (some degree of control over their destiny), hotel supervisors (identifiable by their long trousers, long shirt-sleeves and lighter coloured clothes), tour reps (perceived authority over hotel staff, but likely to take flack from unhappy-clients), bell-boys (lots of tips for lugging cases around), hotel security men (the opportunity to be officially nosey), gardeners (well, I enjoy gardening, so they must too, mustn't they?), beach towel dispensers (great excuse for oggling the totty on the beach which good Moslem men shouldn't know about, let alone look at), waiting staff (some chance of tips), kitchen staff, room cleaners, public area cleaners, washer-uperers.

The Resort Rep told us that the average Egyptian working in a hotel earnt "150 to 200 pounds per month." I took that to be Egyptian pounds (there are between 7 and 9 to the pound at present), but others took it to be pounds Sterling. Whatever, it isn't a fortune. And, although things weren't expensive out there by English standards, they were obviously much cheaper for natives than for tourists (very little in the local shops was priced, and there was obviously one price for local people and another for foreigners). Guide books to Egypt say to haggle, but, quite honestly, it seemed shallow and mean to do so (even for Value Witch!). We reckoned that as long as something was cheaper than in the UK it was OK. The shopkeepers obviously needed the money more than we did - and deserved it, working at least 12 hour days, 7 days a week.

So, in my mind I had a comfortable picture of local people having jobs servicing tourism that they wouldn't otherwise have had, although at the cost of having to pander to the whims of Westerners (it was a very multi-national, multi-cultural or cosmopolitan place, depending on your point of view - Germans and Italians in the majority, but also Russians, Austrians, Brits and Dutch.) But, I oscillate in my views about this. Put very simply, part of me feels it destroys local traditions and cultures and opens up otherwise naive and worldly untroubled people to the worst excesses of The First World. The other part of me thinks that the worldwide media and internet have opened their eyes anyway, so they might as w