Blue Witch

The things I love about Mr BW, Part N

I asked Mr BW to pop into the Boots in Local Large Town during his lunch-hour to pick up the prints from the CD of digital images I took in yesterday (Value Tip: still 10p per print on 6x4" overnight service).

I gave him my Advantage Card (4p back for every £1 spent, the best loyalty scheme on the high street) and my free soft toy voucher collecting envelope and asked him to get me a Tweety Pie (yeah, OK, so I'm nearly 42, and I already have more soft toys than the average toyshop, but, so what? ;)).

Mr BW rang me from the shop, concerned that we were still a £5 token short as I'd omitted to put one receipt with 2 tokens into the collecting envelope.

"What shall I buy?" he asked, "I've just been through all the free toy bins and have the last Tweety Pie in the shop in my hands, but I don't know what to buy for £5?"

"Two large packets of tampax," I suggested. Well, if he was carrying around a Tweety Pie, he'd nothing to lose, had he? :)

I can remember, as a very Small Witch, going shopping with my Dad when my Mum was seriously ill in bed with jaundice and being made to, "Go and buy a box of those things over there, the ones in the pale blue box with the little white flowers on it" (subtle packaging, and certainly no TV adverts, back in those days). When I asked "What are they?" I was told, "Things for Mummy's tummy." The last thing that I'd been told was a, "Thing from Mummy's tummy" was my brother, so I was mightily confused for a good few years after that.

How times change.

But, I still reckon that most men I know wouldn't readily agree to buy a bulk supply of tampax for their girlfriends/wives. And I always go to the tills in supermarkets with young lads on them when I'm buying sanitary products usually. Just because I love watching them squirm.

Now we're sitting comfortably

Now we are officially Old BWs.

The process started a couple of years ago when Good Friend BW bought a pair of reclining armchairs. It continued when Mummy and Daddy Mr BW bought two pairs of reclining armchairs (that's 4 by the way).

I've been fighting this urge to get some too, under some banner of 'that's what old people have'. However, the more I sat/fell asleep in other peoples', and the more my occasional lower back and trapped-nerve shoulder problem flared up, the more I realised that sitting position is all. We have a wonderful soggy hugely-cushioned 7 foot long sofa that can easily fit 4 people, but it's just too easy to slouch in it, or sit in an unhealthy position.

So, finally, in August, we succumbed to 20 year premature chair-purchase and ordered some. And they've just been delivered. And they're lovely. Exactly like this only in dark blue rather than the beige shown (and, I hasten to add, without the head cushions) (and the reclining version).

Now there just remains the tricky problem of geting rid of the previous 2 and 3 seater sofas (one from The Coven Lounge, one from what was the spare bedroom that is now The Rest Room). It seems that no-one wants 'pre-owned' furniture, even of extremely good quality and condition, and even at give-away prices, these days.

Mr BW has done an exellent job of repainting since we had the nasty artexed ceiling skimmed smooth (and it looks so much better now), and the two pairs of velvet curtains are at the dry cleaners and ready to be picked up today. Now all we've got to do is see if we can rearrange all the furniture in The Coven Lounge. This project involves 20 metres of white speaker wire as well. If I remember to buy it.

Botox and RSI

Using the new Academic Google I mentioned below, I have just discovered something that I didn't know about RSI/focal dystonia:

"Thus, rapid, repetitive, highly stereotypic movements applied in a learning context can actively degrade cortical representations of sensory information guiding fine motor hand movements. This cortical plasticity/learning-based dedifferentiation of sensory feedback information from the hand contributes to the genesis of occupationally derived repetitive strain injuries, including focal dystonia of the hand. Successful treatment of patients with RSI will plausibly require learning-based restoration of differentiated representations of sensory feedback information from the hand."

(Research by Byl, Merzenich and Jenkins from 1996, in monkeys (less said about that methinks), but replicated in some later studies using humans).

Now, I'll buy this "neuroplasticity/learning origins hypothesis" for RSI. It's better than many I've seen that say it's a totally psychological condition. But, it's 21 years since I last did any serious study of neuro-physiology, so any ideas how I might go about achieving "learning-based restoration of differentiated representations of sensory feedback information from the hand"? I think that this study is recomending Botox injections...

I think I'll stick to the chamomile oil massaged in every day that I use religiously. I think it was Daisy who recommended that to me when I first had a problem with RSI, and it is truly a magic potion. Thanks Daisy (if it was you - and if it wasn't, apologies and thanks to whoever it was!).

And, I've recently discovered, after The Ankle Incident, it works on bruises and sprains brilliantly too. 1 drop of pure essential oil in each millilitre of neutral base oil. Rubbed in 3 times a day it reduces pain and inflammation. Although I am still hopping about rather.

Thought for the day

The greatest results in life are usually attained by simple means and the exercise of ordinary qualities. These may for the most part be summed up in these two - common sense and perseverance.

- Owen Feltham

Scholar Google - it's academic

This looks like a useful search engine that only trawls professional journals, university sites and conference proceedings.

It's still at the beta stage at the moment but a couple of quick test searches suggest that it will be useful to those amongst us who like proper facts rather than pop-fiction from the net.

The Feast Of The Cash Register Continues

Cat wrote about her experience of christmas shopping in Nottingham at the weekend.

I just had to go into Local Large Town to sign some legal documents and noticed how many offers there are about. Cat mentioned this too:

"If you spend over a certain amount at this time of year, too, you get discount vouchers. WHSmiths currently give you a £5 voucher if you spend over £30 (it makes no odds if this is within their buy one, get one half price offer on hardbacks...), and at Waterstones you get a whole booklet full of money off vouchers for use in the new year."

I noticed that Thorntons are giving away a decent size box of festive chocolates (at least 6) if you spend more than £15 (calm down Mr BW. I was buying jellies for Mummy Mr BW, not anything for you. Probably not anyway ;) - and, why is no-one selling Mummy Mr BW's favourites, Newberry Fruits, any more?).

Woolies and Boots have so many buy 2 get one free offers that it's unbelievable.

Why don't all these shops just reduce their basic prices rather than investing in gimmicks and freebies?

I have never seen so much tat in the shops, and have never seen so much over-packaging. It'll all end up in landfill come the New Year. Don't buy over-packaged products. You're paying for that packaging...

For the first time ever I feel absolutely no compulsion to buy anything. Just looking at the huge expense/debt most people are stacking up for themselves, I just feel concerned for them. Concerned that they are so taken in by it all that they feel it's necessary to spend, spend, spend to be a proper person. Well, I suppose that's why they do it. Isn't it?

And I feel smug.

Since Saturday, I've had £103,000 sitting in our offset mortgage account. A large part of it isn't ours, but rather money borrowed from various credit cards at 0% interest. That amount more than covers what is outstanding on our mortgage. We're therefore saving well over £500 a month in mortgage repayments we're not having to make. We could have one hell of a spending-spree if we chose. But, I have absolutely no incentive to buy anything more than I normally would. No incentive at all.

But, thanks to everyone who is stacking up debt. Your interest repayments allow me to play my Witchy Games and feel smug :)

Anyone can play my game.
It's all about the choices you make.
As my Grandmother used to say, "Cut your coat according to your cloth."

Write. Right. Wrong.

You've probably already seen this Ten Mistakes Writers Don't See (But Can Easily Fix When They Do) piece out and about as it appears to be a hot topic at the moment. But, so that I don't lose it, I shall link it here, and edit out the examples to leave the main sins points as this editorial consultant perceives them.

I am guilty of most of them when writing here. But, I don't care. Ages ago I wrote a piece about how I 'write', which is pertinent again in this context. I'm not writing here for any purpose, or with any aspiration, other than to amuse myself and maybe a few others who pop by. So I can do what I like. The rest of the time I write deadly serious, concise and precise, factual, important stuff, that changes people's lives. For the better if I get the phraseology correct, and for the worse if I don't convey my meaning clearly and supportively. So, I'm allowed room for drivel here, and deliberately breaking accepted 'best practice' conventions is part of why I blog.

Ten Mistakes Writers Don't See (But Can Easily Fix When They Do)

1. REPEATS: Just about every writer unconsciously leans on a "crutch" word... Crutch words are usually unremarkable. That's why they slip under editorial radar - they're not even worth repeating, but there you have it, pop, pop, pop, up they come. Readers, however, notice them, get irked by them and are eventually distracted by them... even if the word is unusual, and even if you use it differently when you repeat it, don't: Set a higher standard for yourself even if readers won't notice.

2. FLAT WRITING: "He wanted to know but couldn't understand what she had to say, so he waited until she was ready to tell him before asking what she meant."

Something is conveyed in this sentence, but who cares? The writing is so flat, it just dies on the page. You can't fix it with a few replacement words - you have to give it depth, texture, character.

Flat writing is a sign that you've lost interest or are intimidated by your own narrative. It shows that you're veering toward mediocrity, that your brain is fatigued, that you've lost your inspiration. So use it as a lesson. When you see flat writing on the page, it's time to rethink, refuel and rewrite.

3. EMPTY ADVERBS: Actually, totally, absolutely, completely, continually, constantly, continuously, literally, really, unfortunately, ironically, incredibly, hopefully, finally - these and others are words that promise emphasis, but too often they do the reverse. They suck the meaning out of every sentence... attempts at emphasis ("in fact," "actually")... just junk up the sentence. Remove them.

The word "actually" seems to emerge most frequently... Delete "actually" and the sentence is more powerful without it. "Actually" mushes up sentence after sentence; it gets in the way every time. I now think it should *never* be used.

Another problem with empty adverbs: You can't just stick them at the beginning of a sentence to introduce a general idea or wishful thinking, as in "Hopefully, the clock will run out." Adverbs have to modify a verb or other adverb, and in this sentence, "run out" ain't it.

4. PHONY DIALOGUE: Be careful of using dialogue to advance the plot. Readers can tell when characters talk about things they already know, or when the speakers appear to be having a conversation for our benefit.

Avoid words that are fashionable in conversation. [they date writing quickly]

5. NO-GOOD SUFFIXES: Don't take a perfectly good word and give it a new backside so it functions as something else... The "ness" words cause the eye to stumble, come back, reread: Mindlessness, characterlessness, courageousness, statuesqueness, preciousness.

...The "ize" words are no better - finalize, conceptualize, fantasize, categorize. The "ize" hooks itself onto words as a short-cut but stays there like a parasite... Not all "ize" words are bad, either, but they do have the ring of the vulgate to them - "he was brutalized by his father," "she finalized her report." Just try to use them rarely.

Adding "ly" to "ing" words... the reader is unnecessarily distracted.

Some "ingly" words do have their place. I can accept "swimmingly," "annoyingly," "surprisingly" as descriptive if overlong "ingly" words. But not "startlingly," "harrowingly" or "angeringly," "careeningly" - all hell to pronounce, even in silence... Try to use all "ingly" words (can't help it) sparingly.

6. THE 'TO BE' WORDS: Once your eye is attuned to the frequent use of the "to be" words - "am," "is," "are," "was," "were," "be," "being," "been" and others - you'll be appalled at how quickly they flatten prose and slow your pace to a crawl.

The "to be" words represent the existence of things - "I am here. You are there." Think of Hamlet's query, "to be, or not to be." To exist is not to act, so the "to be" words pretty much just there sit on the page. "I am the maid." "It was cold." "You were away."

...Don't squander the "to be" words - save them for special moments.

...Try also to reserve the use of "there was" or "there is" for special occasions. If used too often, this crutch also bogs down sentence after sentence.

...Attune your eye to the "to be" words and you'll see them everywhere. When in doubt, replace them with active, vivid, engaging verbs. Muscle up that prose.

7. LISTS: If you're going to describe a number of items, jack up the visuals. Lay out the the scene as the eye sees it, with emphasis and emotion in unlikely places. When you list the items as though we're checking them off with a clipboard, the internal eye will shut.

It doesn't matter what you list - nouns, adjectives, verbs - the result is always static... If you've got many ingredients and we aren't transported, you've got a list.

8. SHOW, DON'T TELL: If you say, "she was stunning and powerful," you're *telling* us. But if you say, "I was stunned by her elegant carriage as she strode past the jury - shoulders erect, elbows back, her eyes wide and watchful," you're *showing* us. The moment we can visualize the picture you're trying to paint, you're showing us, not telling us what we *should* see..

Handsome, attractive, momentous, embarrassing, fabulous, powerful, hilarious, stupid, fascinating are all words that "tell" us in an arbitrary way what to think. They don't reveal, don't open up, don't describe in specifics what is unique to the person or event described. Often they begin with cliches.

9. AWKWARD PHRASING: ...makes the reader stop in the midst of reading and ponder the meaning of a word or phrase... Never write right up to deadline. Return to it with fresh eyes. You'll spot those overworked tangles of prose and know exactly how to fix them.

10. COMMAS: Compound sentences, most modifying clauses and many phrases *require* commas. You may find it necessary to break the rules from time to time, but you can't delete commas just because you don't like the pause they bring to a sentence or just because you want to add tension.

Once again, the full version of this article by Pat Holt, with lots of examples, is here.

(I've just been fascinated to find that Pat Holt is a female. The writing style of that 'Sins' piece was just so 'male' to me...)

Thought for the day

First there is nothing, then a deep nothing, and then there is a blue depth.

- Gaston Bachelard in L'Air et des Songes.

Seasonal flux

When we went off to buy the tree for Mr BW's 40th birthday pot (the subject of previous identification), in a local specialist nursery, a couple of weeks ago, we saw some sprouting bulbs for 50p each.

We were told that they were 'paperwhites' (Narcissus tazetta ‘Paperwhite’ to be more exact), and that, if placed in water, they would bloom in 2 weeks. Likely story, we thought, but, they did!

There's now a glorious scent emanating from the kitchen windowsill, and they looked wonderful against the black of outside last night. Like a tiny slice of spring against the black bleakness of winter. Worth every penny of the £1 for 2 bulbs. And the roots have grown to the exact shape of the small glass vases they are sitting in.

The 72nd Make Blue Witch Laugh Award

Yes, there is one this week. 5 contenders (2 of them new points winners), one left over from last week when I wasn't in a position to post it. Or something.

Coming later, when I've attended to reality, which is fast impinging on my ability to be virtual, as some of you will have noticed this week.

Later, 2pm: OK, that's the lounge and hall carpets washed and lots of other oddments pertaining to the major replastering, redecoration and redefinition of space projects currently underway at The Coven attended to. Back to the funnies.

Contender 1:Brian. Leftover from last week. Bet Brian wishes he'd had leftovers on hand for this little episode though... (and Brian, please excuse me nicking your post in full, but it is deserving of full humiliation exposition):

I’m not a chef, I’m not even a good cook, so you can understand my trepidation when Stephanie rang up. She told me she was coming over with her boyfriend and they hadn’t eaten yet, and they’d be there in an hour, and could I do something for them. This was the boyfriend she had told me about some time ago, the one I’d never met.

Now fathers shouldn’t have to worry about meeting their daughter’s boyfriend, the boyfriend should worry about meeting the father. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, isn’t it? But the fact that I’d have to cook gave the boyfriend the tactical high ground and put pressure on me. Normally I wouldn’t worry about the cooking, Julia would do it or failing that, Louise. But Julia was working late tonight and Louise wasn’t well and couldn’t face cooking. That meant I would have to do it.

I looked in the fridge, it was practically empty because it was some time since we’d been to the supermarket. I looked in the freezer, everything was frozen solid of course, and with less than an hour there was no time to defrost anything.

There was Pasta in the cupboard and a couple of jars of tomato and Basil sauce, I grabbed them like a drowning man. I’d seen Pasta being prepared many times, how hard can it be?

The pasta was in a 500 gram bag, so I poured the lot into a pan, added water and turned on the gas. It all heated up very nicely and only the fact that it swelled up to nearly the top of the pan worried me. I also found some ham and decided to grill it, chop it up and chuck it in too. I think I cooked it a little too long.

When Stephanie and her boyfriend arrived I served it up with a white Burgundy.

They liked the wine.

The pasta was a disaster. Stephanie who likes to take the mickey told me it was melt-in- the- mouth pasta. A nice way of saying horribly overcooked! The boyfriend said it was delicious. I like him already.

No one noticed the kitchen towel I set on fire by putting it down too close the pan.

Contender 2: Steve.

The thing that I love about the MBWLA is that none of you ever know quite what it is that I've found amusing about each one I pick. Sometimes it's my mood at the time, sometimes it's some shared real-life or off-BW background that no-one else except the person concerned knows, sometimes it's a theme that's run around comments, or blogs, and sometimes it's a multitude of things. This one is all of these.

Given the percentage of my hits currently verging on the pornographic (well, OK, let's be honest, totally blue), it probably isn't a good idea to reproduce this one in full, but, hey ho, 34sp would welcome me paying them excess bandwidth charges again this month, I'm sure ;)

That dating base system in full (gay male version):

Sex-chat on gaydar = First Base

Bareback sex, fisting, rimming = Second Base

Saying 'hi' in local bar then turning and bitching about him to your friends = Third Base

Contender 3: Poor Dino Features, her planned escape to France is taking longer than hoped.

And this is another one that only a few will understand I guess.

Mr M. is in France for the rest of the week, stopping a wall falling over and not sacking the architect. (Yes, she not only missed her own deadline, she missed her self-imposed extension of the deadline last week, and allegedly is going to show, complete with plans, fosse septique surveying crew and someone from the Mairie, tomorrow. I'm not holding my breath.)

And I am going mad. He mailed me earlier to say the bat that used to live in the kitchen has gone. And I cried for half an hour, imagining the poor bat in the winter, alone. I am now imagining it having moved into a cool and spooky cemetery, which means I can keep things together.

As I told Dino, that was a good spell, and her bat is now safe in my attic :) I'll do another spell to put a rocket under the prevaricating French.

Contender 4:Elsie was being grubby, as Nigel would say. Worth reading in full, but the summary is that "a survey 'revealed' the news that married women, on average, had had 4 sexual partners and... for single women that figure doubled!" Having stated that, I don't think this is a subject that can be measured or reported quantitatively - it involves history, emotions and lifestyle, she went on to say that, "I don't think you should judge someone from the number of partners they've had" and ""I don't remember every lover I've ever had."

Legomen commented:

You mean you don't use an excel spreadsheet?

*Walks away confused*

Daft figures though, as married women were single before they got married, and some single women are divorced. Pop statistics, don't you just love them?

Contender 5: I make no secret of the fact that I detest Natasha Kaplinsky. I thoroughly look forward to Friday and Saturday when her patronising, unsympathetic, overly-made-up large face, and ever-increasingly-more-like-a-stick-insect body do not fill my early-morning news screen. billy obviously feels the same way. That was a relief, given that others around won't have a word said against her, one of whom would, by his own admission stalk her full-time if he didn't have to go to work... :)

Who?

...is natasha kaplinsky

..don't ask how it has happened but for some reason I seem to have been watching programmes that include the presence of a ms.natasha kaplinsky - famed bbc breakfast newsreader and winner of celebrity come dancing (or whatever it's called)

...is it me or is she actually an alien?

...normally I don't worry about these things but the more I have been subjected to her presence the more and more I have noticed certain things about her

...for starters she physically resembles the internationally recognised shape of an alien - we all know (because we have been told by farmers from the middle of hicksville, nebraska) that aliens have really skinny, abnormally thin, stick insect like bodies and blummin' gi-normous heads [oh, and in passing - is it just me or does anyone else not want to meet aliens, what with their extra special long fingers and their interest in anal probing, I'm quite happy for them to stay the hell away from me and just stick to kidnapping amaerican farmers and pissing around in ingerlish crop fields]

...but ms.kaplinsky also seems to have affected the look of a vulcan/romulan - as the days have passed her eyebrows are becoming more arched, her ears more pointy...I have now taken to switching off any programme she is on in case she suddenly salutes me and hopes that I will "live long and prosper"

And, hoping that billy will forgive me for nicking them, I just have to show you the pictures that go with it:

Winner later. I've got livestock to muck out, plants to tidy and anyway, I've not quite decided which was funniest.

Even later: As Brian would have won last week, had there been one, he can win this week. As can billy, because I'm going to remember that post of his every time I see Ms Alien Kaplinsky on TV. Two points and a trophy apiece.

Value Witch 2

Another blue and white Value tip:

Buying CDs as gifts for the Feast of the Cash Register celebrations?

I've often recommended CD-Wow as usually the cheapest place to buy, and certainly the most reliable for timely deliveries that always fit through your letter box as they package each item separately (cdjungle.com sometimes marginally beat them on price but delivery is veeery slow and BW does overall Value).

On many of the money-saving forums (fora?) there are constant hunts to find discount codes for CD-Wow.

This annoys them as it messes up its marketing strategy with other sites. So, martinthemoneysavingexpert has negotiated with them and got them to agree to set up a permanent discount code for 75p off, via this link (it's an affiliate code, but there's no kick-back, it's just being done as a service - and, at £8.24 for chart CDs, who cares who's getting what in referral bonuses anyway? :))

Do make sure you order each item separately as the 75p discount is per transaction and not per item.

Oh - and if you can wait a few days for a CD to arrive before ordering your next one - there's a 50p voucher enclosed with each item for use off your next purchase until xmas. There are other ways of stacking CD-Wow discount vouchers to get things even cheaper, but I won't confuse you all :)

Value Witch

Got me blue and white on again today...

Iceland online will give you £10 off a spend of £40 (ie 25% off). Simply enter the code KNAT ULQ 2D2D in the box at the online checkout when you've finished shopping

Valid until 05/12/04

With FREE Delivery

They have some great deals on Feast of The Cash Register food and booze (especially on multi-savings). I wouldn't buy any of the following, but, as an example (and you'd get another 25% off these prices remember):

- 89p for pringles
- 2 x 2 litres Pepsi for £1.49 or 2 x 2 litres coca cola for £2.09
- 24.8 litres of Stella Artois for under £32.

And you can apparently order under different names, get the 25% of each £40 worth, and get it delivered to the same address.

Our local Iceland is awful (dingy and grubby), and I would never shop in there. However, this kind of money-off and free delivery from my own keyboard might just tempt me to buy some heavy items.

Thought for the day

If you follow a false premise, all sorts of conclusions can seem logical and valid.

To be or not to be-e

8pm tonight, Channel 4, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall with Beyond River Cottage - explores the possibility of keeping little buzzy friends like us.

Well, we don't buzz, but you get what I mean. Hopefully.

And for those of us into The Good Life, I've just discovered the River Cottage site has a good, easy-to-use, message board area.

What cheese are you?

Time for a silly quizzy thingy. Haven't had one for ages.

You can keep your chocolate (even if it is supposedly a good cough medicine) (sorry, Mr BW has been going on at me all week to do a post on that, but that's all he's getting :))

Cheese is my weakness, as I've mentioned before. The only way to stop me eating it in large chunks is not to have any in the house. Yarg is my favourite. And it has been known that the piece I buy in a shop never actually gets to see the inside of The Coven, let alone the fridge. Yep, I can eat it, all of it, a whole piece, while driving home, in the way others eat travel sweets.

So, what does the cheese quiz thingy say?

It says that I am Blue Cheese!

You are a soft, crumbly white blue-streaked cheese. You are very cool and mellow. You are very knowledgeable and wise and people come to you for advice and help.

Blue cheese is a white cheese with blue veins and a sometimes crumbly interior. This cheese usually has tangy, piquant, spicy and peppery flavor. Use in salad dressings with cream cheese for spreads. [Texture: hard, semi-soft ]

What sort are you?

Art Class: Session 8

When the tutor said, "Next week we're drawing shells," at the end of the last session, I thought, "Oh goody, that will be easy." I was wrong.

I struggled. We all struggled. I was getting all cross and annoyed until Best Friend BW persuaded me to wander round and look at what some of the people who spend half their week drawing and painting had managed.

The conch shell is our Wedding Shell. Picked up off the beach where we were married. It looks rather more rounded in the flesh, and is about the size of a tennis ball. The cowrie is one from a cigar box of shells that I bought from a junk stall on the local market a couple of years ago for 20p - the whole of someone's lifetime shell collection available for less than a fiver. I wish now that I'd bought the lot.

Thought for the day

What sculpture is to a block of marble, education is to a human soul.

- Joseph Addison

Any ideas?

I always feel terribly sad when people arrive here from this type of search...

How Much?

Last night I noticed that Saltation had pointed out to someone local and connected that London's looking for a new CEO. Salary package of £250,000. Full details in the Google-protected comments. We don't want people playing looky-uppy-worky-backwards after all ;)

Mr BW will tell you that the obscene amounts that directors and chief officers of large companies and organisations earn is something that I often decry. When those people work for charities or publicly-funded bodies, my outrage is at least tripled.

Mr BW constantly tries to lead me away from my upper-class communistic leanings and tell me that it's the connections of these people that are being paid for.

I'd be the first to admit that networking has been the key to my success in any job or role I've ever had. Research I did as an undergrad taught me the best ways of using my memory, and my brain does its filing in an interesting and useful way. So, when I, or someone I know, requires a particular piece of information or contact, I usually know where to find it. And most people are flattered to be asked to assist. And it works reciprocally. I derive enormous satisfaction from being able to help people out occasionally. I have a firm belief that if I chuck something into the Pot of Life when I can, there'll be a bit there for me to have back from somewhere when I need it.

But, just because I enjoy networking and lateral thinking doesn't mean that my skills are that much more valuable than someone else's.

When I think about the amount of 'work' that 'people at the top' do for the money they earn, it makes me feel physically sick. They only able to earn that money because somewhere else in their company/organisation there are thousands of people working their thingys off for minimum wage. And, in the case of commercial organisations, 'consumers' being ripped off by the unnecessarily high price of 'product' that enables enormous profit to be made.

And I'm not going to even start on my views about the amounts companies pay to secure the part-time 'services' of people coming out of public life, such as ex-MPs.

Or on badly failed examples of senior management (eg Marconi...) who are still given huge pay-offs despite the damage they have done, whereas if you or I are found to be lacking at a job, we are dispatched pronto without even a reference.

I'm not advocating that everyone gets paid the same. I'm not a pure communist, because pure communism is at least as corrupt and unequal a system as capitalism.

However, I do think that there should be a maximum amount that people can earn. Share the wealth round a bit. Give a bit more to the people who keep the country (at a macro level) or communities (at a micro level) running. The people at the bottom of the pile who support the lifestyle of The Named Parasites. Those at the top are rarely those who do the real work.

Thinking back to the last employed role I had, I earnt more than 3 times what my secretary earnt (she was very young so at the bottom of the pay structure). Without her I couldn't have done what I did. Once I'd trained her, she worked almost totally on her own initiative, and, because she was so good, she did half my job for me. So why was it fair that I earnt 3 times what she did?

I wonder what the maximum amount should be? £100,000?

It's always a really bad idea to throw together a post on a controversial subject without much thought and then run off for a few hours, isn't it? :)

Thought for the day

We are prone to judge success by the index of our salaries or the size of our automobile rather than by the quality of our service and relationship to mankind.

- Martin Luther King Jr

Night Owl

I feel absolutely knackered at the moment. I'm spending my days dashing about, and my nights are just too short.

Last night's sleep was not helped by a smoke alarm which decided to go off in the early hours (and not just the 'low battery' alert, a full 'fire' noise, although there was nothing even vaguely interesting that could have triggered it), or some owls who decided to have a mutual hooting session for about two hours straight afterwards.

I thought I saw two odd looking birds fly past The Coven at the weekend, so it was probably the owls. When they hoot a lot does that signify owl sex? I fancy owl babies to go with the rest of my avian children. Owlets. Sweet. Ah - but wait - do owls eat D'Oves?

Liquid calculations

Every time I go to a large town and see people walking about clutching cups that resemble babies' trainer beakers, and slurping coffee from them as if their continued existence on this planet depended on that caffeine fix, I wonder what people drank and how they managed to get through their days before the invasion of Starbucks and its clones. And where did they buy their drinks? I just can't remember. And it wasn't that long ago either.

More to the point, I wonder how much those coffee addicts spend on their habit in a week?

I don't drink coffee any more. As a student in London, 20-odd years ago, I used to get through the largest size jar of Nescafe a week. I was a total addict. It did terrible things to my teeth and my mental state. I knew I had to give it up. So I did, the day I got my degree result. And I haven't touched a drop since. Now, the smell of it usually turns my stomach.

I can't bear the tea that most places make as they don't use boiling water. I'm tired of sending it back and giving tea-making lessons, so I just don't bother having it at all any more.

I object to paying the prices demanded in large towns for water or juice, so I stuff my bag full of small boxes of juice (45p for 3 from Aldi) and water (decanted into smaller bottles from Value size large bottles) before venturing into any metropolis.

The rear footwells of my car always contain ample beverages for a week, so I rarely buy drinks out. I reckon I'd probably spend about £7-£10 a week if I did. I probably spend £2 a week doing it my way. So I save around £350 per year. And I have liquid on tap whenever I need it, rather than having to hunt around and then queue up. I'm a Thirsty Witch, who dehydrates rapidly, you see. No liquid when needed leads to bad headache and irritability.

How much do you spend per week on coffee/juice/fizz/water etc that you buy 'on the hoof'?

Thought for the day

Faith in a holy cause is, to a considerable extent, a substitute for the lost faith in ourselves.

- Eric Hoffer

Why?

The London Apple Store in Regent Street (the 99th in the world) opened at 10am on Saturday.

This was the scene at 11.15pm on Friday.

Hundreds of yards of presumably non-homeless people pretending to be homeless (albeit in a high-class way with fold-up chairs and tents) for one night in order to be the first in to view the glass staircases, empty space with PCs (haha!) displayed on minimalistic light-wood benches and 138 staff.

Other Apple UK stores are opening in Bluewater and Birmingham soon. You can guarantee that I won't be there, not will I be purchasing their products... But it did make me laugh.

Thought for the day

People’s minds are changed through observation and not through argument.

- Will Rogers

Reality check

A few of us had a Birthday Party for Alan and a New Home Party for bungle's FLM on Friday Night.

Sadly they couldn't attend as they were having, well, birthdays and new homes, but we still enjoyed ourselves.

It took me 4 hours and 20 minutes to do a journey that should have taken an hour and a half, thanks to the A406 West exit off the M11 being completely closed due to an accident. So, I arrived 2 hours late, totally stressed out by the most frightening experience in my third of a million miles of driving (an hour and a half to get round the Redbridge Roundabout - horrendous at any time - with 3 times its already usually excessive Friday rush-hour traffic). And I was rather dismayed (at one level, and bloody relieved at another) that a lad of 15 or 16 felt it necessary to give up his seat to me on the tube for the last part of my journey...

Read more about it here, here or here.

Maybe no-one there will be surprised at the damage sustained by my ankle some time after leaving the pub. I blame the pavements in Leytonstone and a bizarre text message myself. Others may tell a different story ;)

Oh, and, by the way, everything said in the net reviews about the appalling attitude of the bar staff in The Green Man Pub at the top of Great Portland Street is correct. Why when 20% of your clientele are repeatedly asking for the music in their corner to be turned down do they continually turn it up, making conversation impossible, depsite the fact that other people are leaving in droves as soon as they've scoffed down their food? I can understand why there were plenty of seats even on a Friday night.

Lovely to finally decloak you and meet you - hopefully I'll be more normal next time. And no comment is needed to that from the rest of you :)

And you are going to have to promise me your first born if you don't want the picture of you fondling her famous footwear with an excited grin on your face to be posted ;)

And my spell is finally working on him it seems. I'm getting Edward :)

Thought for the day

Community requires its members to honestly and openly speak their minds, to risk intimacy, to confess what is appropriate, to make the hidden known when doing so is helpful.…

The bedrock of community is commitment, a willingness for people to ‘hang in there’ together when the going gets rough.

- M. Scott Peck, A World Waiting To Be Born, p. 284

Cold spell

I was jealous when I noticed earlier that that Jo at Counting Sheep had snow.

My capacity for making things happen just by thinking, 'Oh wouldn't that be nice?' is rather too powerful of late.

It's currently snowing huge fluffy white chunks, and settling, here.

Good job all the plants are safely tucked up for the winter.

Taking candy from a baby

Those of you who have followed the BW Tips to Subsidise Your Lifestyle by Cashing-In on 0% Balance Transfer Deals to Pop into Your Offset Mortgage Account (one or two of you then ;)) (and even those of you who'd just like a 0% Balance Transfer Deal until 1st May 2005, that you can make into your current account, regardless of whether you have any debt there) need to look in the comments and copy and paste the link to apply for an Oeuf Card (providing that you haven't already got one) (comments are Google protected and I don't want this tracked back to me).

They will give you a decision on-line instantly, so I suspect can't be running details through one of the credit reference agencies.

If you want a copy of the info you give them for your records (always a good policy as they keep it on file), do print the page before you click 'submit'.

I've just got £27,500 out of them (an application for each of us). I've now got the whole of our mortgage covered on 0% money, so we are living in The Coven absolutely free until next April when the next of my current 0% offers runs out :) That's a saving of over £500 a month on what the mortgage payment would otherwise be...

Why go to work when you can live off others' interest payments if you're shrewd enough?

Ceiling trouble

It's pouring with rain here, and my 2 plasterers (yes, I've got usual plasterer's friend along today as well - he'd appeal to some of you I think ;)) have decided that they can't mix their vats of plaster outside as they normally would, so they're doing it in the lounge. Despite everything being cling-wrapped or dust-sheeted, I cannot bear to look, or even think about how awful the plaster powder dust, that is going everywhere when they turn on their auto-mixer, is going to be to get out of things. Cleaner BW has her work cut out for her tomorrow... Although the obsessive part of me is unlikely to be able to leave it until then.

And one of them has managed to wee on the floor rather than where they should. I've just shut the cloakroom floor and left the puddle. Disgusting. Why is it that some men appear not to be able to... no, never mind, I don't think I need an answer to that.

I may look rather older than I used to by tomorrow.

Art Class: Session 7

Well, there had to come a time when I wasn't at all happy with the product of a session, and this is it. *quickly dashes off to write another post to stick on top*

I don't think that Mr BW will be too impressed that this came from the images I was taking at 6.45am yesterday that nearly mde him late to his course...

The original image is here. Grief, I'm almost too embarassed to post this. Although the skin colours aren't too bad, considering that I hadn't done them before, it just has no depth, the proportions, shapes and shadings are all wrong, and I stuck the lower eyelashes on the wrong bit, didn't I? And what the hell happened to the shape of the iris on the top right? Must have been while Good Friend BW was telling me the story of her builder... And no, I don't think that bears repeating, at least, not in writing ;)

It's hard, though, doing an eye in A4 size.
And, as the tutor said, "Your eyes are exactly the same colour as your husband's aren't they BW?" Yes, dear, we're a perfect match :)

Thought for the day

Nothing, not love, not greed, not passion or hatred, is stronger than a writer's need to change another writer's copy.

- Arthur Evans

BW Blue Stars

They even hung out the stars for me when I went shopping for super king size duvet covers in Bishop's Stortford earlier (thanks terreus, I found what I wanted, at a very Value Price, where you suggested :))
A bit too much green in the BW blue mix, maybe, as they were a bit turquoise, but I'm working on the principle that they were environmentally friendly BW Blue Stars. And they helped replenish my supply.

White Paper on Public Health

Can someone explain to me why smoking bans in England will not become fully operational until 2008,

Smoking restrictions will be phased in, with a ban on smoking in NHS and government buildings by 2006, in enclosed public places by 2007, and with the restrictions on smoking in licensed premises introduced by the end of 2008.

I suppose foxes lives are more valuable than humans.
I guess that both foxes and smokers have beagles in common though.

Manufacturers will be made to display colour-coded nutritional information on packaging by the middle of next year, but a ban on smoking takes 4 years. I don't understand.

And the small matter of lost tax revenue doesn't enter into the equation at all, of course.

Oh - and will 2 Jags be going on a diet to show his support for this new piece of nannying, I wonder?

And, still on the subject of the White Paper,

By 2010 every primary care trust to be resourced to have at least one full time school nurse working with each cluster of primary and secondary schools in their area.

Sealing the ceiling

I've never understood cling wrap fetishes.

Last night, after moving all the moveable stuff from the lounge into The Rest Room (nooo, my beautiful new empty space is now choc-a-bloc (or is that chock-a-block?) with books, pictures, cushions, speakers, side tables... and likely to stay that way until the plaster skim on the ceiling is dry and the room repainted - so a week or 10 days), we covered everything that we couldn't cover with dust sheets in cling wrap. Orgasmic that project certainly wasn't. Frustrating it certainly was, as it kept clinging to itself, and giving me static shocks. The thought of being wrapped up in that stuff just leaves me wondering why? Perhaps someone would enlighten me...

Not the most environmentally friendly of projects, but scraping PVA or paint off solid wood windowsills or light fittings just is not my idea of fun. Luckily Costco had 300m of extra wide catering size (45cm) for less than £4 a while back, so it didn't cost the earth, even if plastic does cost the earth.

Plasterer Man turned up at 7.30am to scrape off the dangly artex bits and PVA it ready for replastering tomorrow. "I've washed me dust sheets this time," he informed me. "Well, some of them." "Yes, and I've masking taped the doors so your dust doesn't go all through the house this time," I replied. "I'll try to keep the doors shut," he promised. "No, you're not hearing me, I said, I've taped the doors shut, so you can't open them." He gave me an odd look.

"I'll have two spoons of honey in me tea," he said. "I like your honey in me tea." I put sugar in, and he told me how wonderful my honey was, so much better than sugar, as he drunk it. Workmen's palates are wonderful aren't they? I once had to put 7 sugars in a cup of tea for one of the concrete laying crew who did the base for the raised herb garden. Other bases for the beeshed, summerhouse, and Mediterranean Garden, Mr BW did, because although the price for that first base was good, by the time we'd added in the cost of the sugar needed for the teas, it was cheaper to hire a cement mixer and do future ones ourselves.

I have to be out of here by 9.45am as it's art today. Not sure what the odds are on that... I'd better not be late as Mr BW's eye wants to be painted. He was dashing around trying to get away at 7am so he could be in Cambridge for a course starting at 8.45am, and there was me insisting on taking "Just one more picture because the last one might not have been quite in focus."

Thought for the day

Friendship improves happiness,
and abates misery,
by doubling our joy,
and dividing our grief.

- Addison

Indecision

There are a million things I want to write about, but I can't choose where to start.

There are a million things I need to sort out but I don't know where to start. Well, I do, but I don't want to start with the ones I ought to.

My PDA is in the PDA Hospital for at least the next 2 weeks and I can't function without its nested lists and Pocket Quicken (come on bungle, the people are waiting for the story... you told me last week you've finished your Feast of the Cash Register shopping and wrapped it all (don't some people make you sick? :)), and you can't possibly be spending all day shopping for raspberry bed-linen, now can you? ;))

And somehow I've allowed myself to agree to spend the afternoon in Local Big Town University talking about some work I don't want to do, haven't got time to do, for people who don't want to pay me what I want to charge. God I'm daft sometimes.

I finally finished the hems on the curtains for The Rest Room last night (4 widths, my fingers are sore!) and there's a huge pile of enormous cushion pads and a large selection of possible coverings (chopping up throws and sewing them back together is much cheaper than buying fabric off a roll) in one corner, the contents of my sewing box (last cleared out in 1980-something) strewn across another. The round 4-quartered bed's delivery date has now been pushed back another 3 weeks, and is supposedly arriving on my Witch-Day, when we will be in Paris rather than here to receive it. Which is annoying as I can't get the room finished. And once we start a project it needs to get finished asap.

Do you know, 1000 metres of Gutterman sewing thread is now £6.15. Six pounds bloody fifteen for a reel of cotton! I nearly died of shock. Well, it would have been cheaper on the market in Local Small Town, but I couldn't wait until tomorrow as I needed to use it yesterday. That makes about as much sense as the inside of my head at the moment.

I think I may just go back to bed.

But I can't because the plasterer is coming to skim away the nasty 1990s artex on the lounge ceiling on Thursday (we're doing the re-skim/re-decorate project a room at a time, following the success of the re-skim on The Rest Room ceiling). Clearing out a 24 foot long room takes some doing, and it's got to be finished tonight as Mr BW is going away on a course tomorrow.

Thought for the day

America had often been discovered before Columbus, but it had always been hushed up.

- Oscar Wilde

Lump in the throat

Well, hey ho, the state of the NHS.

Senior Practice Nurse decided the lump on my back was far too serious for her to hack at, and needed dealing with in the weekly Minor Ops session. She assured me that, "It will only take 5 minutes, but the tissue removed has to go away for analysis, just to be safe, and I'm not allowed to touch anything that has to go away for histology."

"And when is the next Minor Ops appointment?" "April."

"OK," say I, "can you get a doctor to do me a referral letter and I'll have it done privately?" "Oh no," she said, "you have to come in and see a doctor for that."

"So, despite the fact that it would only take a doctor 5 minutes to remove the lump, I've got to take up a 10 minute appointment slot - but not for another 8 days as he's so booked up - to ask him to write a letter, which he has then got to dictate, check and sign? Total professional time expended - 20 minutes doctor time, 15 minutes medical secretary time, plus reading and filing the letters that will come back from the consultant?"

"Yes."

The world's gone fucking crazy.

Energy flow

These days, I'm usually very good at keeping my energies balanced.

For me, balanced energy equates to feeling 'well' and 'in control'. Unblanced energy leads to tension, irritability and physical malaise, or, in its extreme form, ill-health. It's no co-incidence that when my body's energy is unbalanced, I succumb to every bug going around.

My path into energy fields was interesting.

After a car accident 4 years ago I ended up with a trapped nerve in my shoulder which caused numbness down the complete length of part of my left arm. It was often agonisingly painful, and failed to respond to thousands of (Mr BW's company health-care scheme provider's) pounds worth of physiotherapy.

While on a holisitic holiday on a Greek Island, I woke up one morning to find myself totally unable to move the left side of my body, with vertebrae in my back seemingly fused. A frightening experience. An American lady in the group did some 'energy field healing' on it, which improved things almost immediately, although I was still in pain.

A couple of months later, a chance reading of a card in a charity shop window led me to volunteer as a guinea pig for a Reiki Master who was looking to give free treatments with the aim of building his part-time practice through personal recommendation. At this time I can honestly say that I would never have dreamt of paying for such an unscientifically sound technique with little if any scientific evidence base.

However, 6 sessions later, and my trapped nerve was cured, and I felt completely different in myself.

13 months ago I went on a d0w51ng c0ur5e (sorry, need to keep the local Nice Ladies away from BW - I've taught them both to d0w5e and to use search engines :)) and, again, my initial scepticism quickly disappeared when I found it working for me, in spite of my reservations.

Under pressure, my unbalanced energy always migrates to my upper back, site of past weakness, where it causes discomfort. Usually, I can balance my own energies within a few hours of sensing them out of kilter.

Often it just takes some relaxation and visualisation, but sometimes it needs a bit of help from my trusty p3ndu1um. However, various things going on in and around my life in the past couple of weeks have led to me being totally unable to balance my own energies.

A couple of sessions of ear acupuncture from an unexpected source have helped, but on Friday I resorted to my old friend Reiki, and a massage.

And I fully expect you and you to be falling around the floor laughing by now ;) All I'll say is, it works for me. Everyone needs to find their own ways of staying balanced, and these are less destructive than other things I've tried in the past.

And so - to get to the point of all this... my massage lady decided that a lump on my back that I've had for weeks and assumed to be a spot wihout a head was 'of concern' and needed prompt medical opinion. The Practice Nurse, who answered the phone when I rang at 5.50pm on Friday (the surgery shuts at 6) seemed to agree, as I have to be there at 8.30am this morning, when they open. I'm still convinced it's nothing serious, but I have a nasty feeling that the recent apparent desensitizastion of my long-standing needle phobia (having needles broken off in both your arm and leg at a young age tends to do that to you), via my acupuncture experience, is going to be severely tested this morning...

Art Class: Session 6

Rather delayed, this is last Wednesday's effort. Not having managed to get to the Art Class, for one reason or another, for a couple of weeks, I didn't know that we were supposed to take pictures of people from magazines, so I had to make do with other people's discards when using them to 'draw isolated features' as instructed. Other people's discards tended to be unclear images or images from odd angles, which made the task extra difficult.

I don't enjoy drawing people, and I had to approach it as an observational drawing task otherwise I'd probably have walked out and gone and done my food shopping instead.

I wasn't too impressed with the results - particularly the nose. With persusasion, the tutor had a go at the nose (bottom right). Interestingly, on the original, it doesn't look much different to mine, but, after I'd knocked the image down from its original couple of MB to a few KB to post it here, I can now see the difference. However, more than one person remarked that my attempt bore more of a resemblance to the original picture than the tutor's...

Clearly I shan't be rushing to offer portrait services to the world anytime soon.

As we sat drinking tea, bemoaning the fact that the self-appointed provider of biscuits to the group's elevenses was absent, I mused, "Do you think the models in the magazines ever thought that, on a Wednesday, in November, in Local Town, their images would form the subject of an art class?" Quick as a flash, Good Friend BW replied, "They'd probably be happier with our use of their images than some they're put to..." One old dear asked, "What do you mean Good Friend BW?" Good job there weren't any biscuits or we'd have choked on the crumbs :)

And we're meant to be taking a picture of an eye to watercolour this week. Remind me to take a close up photo of your eyes will you Mr BW, please? (Oooh, don't blogs have their uses? :))

Thought for the day

The handwriting on the wall may be a forgery.

- Ralph Hodgson

Coven Life

Still busy making curtains for The Rest Room. Haven't made ones with eyelet tops (erm - Personal Shopper/Design Consultant - what are they called again?) before, so have 50 x 2" holes to cut out to look forward to...

The lights are all up and look great. Mr BW had to change the black flex for white on the floor light though. Why do things come with black flexes when most of these things are in neutral colours?

In fact, the only thing that isn't going to work is the duvet cover. But that was the only thing PS/DC and I didn't agree on, and I had my way (the client is always right, even when they're wrong ;)) - but only because it was all they had that was vaguely suitable (for the colour I had in mind at the time - which has since changed - but, this is geting complicated so I won't start explaining that now).

Does anyone know of anywhere that sells good quality 'super kingsize' duvet covers other than John Lewis?

Yesterday afternoon, Mr BW cleared out the final greenhouse and tucked up the final pots of fuchsias for winter - just in time as we had the first below zero frost last night. Everything was white this morning, even the sides of the plastic watering cans. Seems weird to have still been picking tomatoes until yesterday. Am going to try making sun-dried tomatoes, but in the Aga bottom oven (cool oven), today. I'll start with a couple, just in case it doesn't turn out as it should.

Right, off to do some more sewing, and Mr BW is about to put up the new curtain poles. He's still trying to work out how the bits and pieces for that managed to cost more than £200. Twas because bungle insisted that, being a Witch, I needed crystal ball finials (which must have been a special for BWs as they don't appear on the JL website, so I can't link them). He's promised to tell you all about it, amongst other things, in the next few days. Fortunately *I* have some pictures that I'm sure he wouldn't care to be let loose in cyberspace, so, hopefully they'll act as a moderating influence to what he writes (the behaviour I have to engage in to get some people blogging again...) ;)

The 71st Make Blue Witch Laugh Award

*screams* We've just had our first piece of post with a christmas stamp on it (now, who remembers from last year - what's the official BW slogan/approach to the Festival of the Cash Register?). They are designed by Raymond Briggs this year, and, I do admit that The Snowman film is just about the only part of the Festival of the Cash Register that I would miss if it were to be abolished.

Well, there are 2 contenders today, including one from someone I've only discovered via a chance click this week. But later, because Mr BW is about to turn off the electricity to put up the new light in the new Rest Room (note to my over-the-Atlantic friends - this phrase does not (yet, *sighs*) have the same connotation in English). And he says if I don't hurry up he'll switch it off anyway...

Later: (actually, much more later than expected because we got sidetracked by a tax return - end result: HMG owes MrBW £756, yippee - and a trip to get the shrub for the tub (see below), and a quick mow of the lawn)

Contender 1: e (several bits of this made me laugh. Those who know e may laugh at bits that are different to those who don't ;)

There are few things I find more irritating in the entire world than having my sleeves slip down over my elbows into the water while I'm doing the washing up.

For this reason, I will only wash up in the summer.

Comments:

I know full well that you have a dishwasher.
And a husband.
And 3 children.

There is no reason for you ever to need to do washing up.

Blue Witch | Email | Homepage | 11.11.04 - 10:49 am | #

Aah, but we have this policy of not putting pans in the dishwasher, on some sort of weird ratio of efficiency which seems to take into account number of items washed versus space taken up.

If we had my way (and now that I come to think of it, we usually do), we'd wash everything in the dishwasher. But then we'd be running it three times a day. And that definitely would not be right.

Mind you, it doesn't feel right to be washing by hand the filthiest items whilst dishwashing the water glasses. By George, you're right!

e | Email | Homepage | 11.11.04 - 1:24 pm | #

Contender 2: a new blog to me, Dr Rob's Day (I put the apostrophe in, because, despite being an educationalist, he chooses not to, or maybe that's intentional, in the other sense of 'rob', who knows), by another Devonian. It's a long post, best read in its entirety, but as I don't know him, he's probably never been over here and so won't know how the MBWLA works and might think I'm being too cheeky in reproducing the whole thing, so I'm just editing wildly and picking out some highlights:

Teenagers- all you need to know

Teenagers – why? That is the focus of today’s blog.

First we need to understand the historical development of this phenomenon. We need to delve into the texts, search out learned papers and the scientific insights into why these creatures roam the world in their never ending search for Pizza, their cries of ‘Get outta my life’, ‘I hate you’ and ‘where is my T-Shirt’ echoing around suburbia.

...It is clear that evolution has, in her time, thrown up some specially designed creatures, one thinks of the Duckbilled Platypus, the Giraffe, the Blue Whale, all of which Darwin claims are the result of Natural Selection. So too is the teenager subject to the forces of natural selection, the forces of evolution forming this being into the malevolent force we find ourselves living with today.

For instance the modern teenager has adapted some of the natural behaviour of the North American Brown Bear. This creature, like the teenager, spends much of its life asleep; when not asleep it is out foraging for food. It lives in a den like cave, living in a sort of half sleep, occasionally getting up and rummaging around. One knows when a teenager is in residence because like the Brown Bear there is a certain stench that emanates from the lair and strange grunting and rumbling noises are heard during the early part of the day.

The teenager has also evolved to the point where it has become incredibly hard to get off their fat arses and walk anywhere. This is despite the interesting evolutionary contradiction that their feet seem to be getting bigger. This is in total contrast to the amount of walking or exercise involving the use of the legs.

...when your son/daughter of darkness brings friends home; they are the nicest sweetest kids you have met. Don’t be fooled it’s just the chameleon gene kicking in. Your kid’s gene only works by default in other kids houses. It also kicks in when visiting the grandparents, but that’s only because they know there’s probably a 20 quid gift coming their way later as you leave.

The girls get their periods, breasts and attitude all in one day, while the boys get their first erection and discover the joys of masturbation. This is a bed friendly activity so for many it is the only exercise they will get. This activity goes some way to explaining both the stench and the grunting that comes from a teenage boy’s bedroom.

A few facts that will help the parents understand this:

According to http://strongbad.surrealistic.net/ejaculator.php if said teenager were to masturbate 3 times a day (conservative estimate) from age 13 to 19 he would have:

Made 29.859375 gallons and 249.1885475625 lbs. of Jizz,
If you lined up the ejaculations in 1 inch pools end to end it would stretch the length of 2.1233333333333 football fields!He would have killed approximately 1,375,920,000,000 little swimmers.He would have killed 7644 kittens.

And of course, each masturbation uses about 5 calories; no wonder a guy needs Pizza!

This also, of course, explains the crispy sheets and why the toilet roll only lasts a day at a time.

...The modern female teenager also seems to share a common gene with the artic penguin in that they never seem to feel the cold. Consequently the female teenager can wear the smallest, lightest, thinnest, most revealing clothing even on a day when the outside temperature is hitting minus 30 with out a single goose bump.

...Teenage boys on the other hand have little in common with the teenage girls but seem to be strangely attracted to them. This takes away the males ability to speak and they have to resort to grunts and strange hand and arm gestures which include cupping genitals (maybe sore after all that wanking)
Crossing arms across chest and posing like Tupac, and waving hands around pointing and gesticulating to emphasise each word said, often punctuated with a ‘yo’ sound. This seems to work best when the baseball cap, used to keep brain warm, is placed on head and is facing the other way.

This inability to communicate face to face is of course the evolutionary result of the use of the mobile phone... further natural selection has also engineered the use of language. So the simplest of messages uses ‘lingo’
Hi wot U doin 2nt Shall we git a <)
(Hello what are you up to tonight, shall we get a pizza?)

...The comfortable ease and familiarity with technology is another evolutionary sign that the teenager is being naturally selected for modern life. When said teenager has to enter the world of work it will be one that suits the lifestyle. Sat in front of a computer on his/her fat arse, eating pizza communicating in a techno language be it Pascal or txt or lingo, or if really lucky, working from home on the laptop from bed, never having to communicate face to face, having cybersex with some other techno nerd who calls himself Julie and having pizza delivered by some other spotty teenager on a moped.

Today's 2-point and Trophy winner is Rob, but, as he's disappeared off for a few days it may be some time before he realises... Sorry e, not only do you only get one point, but you've got it all to come, as I'm sure you are only too painfully aware ;)

Off to make curtains now. I will be some time.

War on War

On Wednesday a poppy seller stepped into my path while I was hurtling through Local Town centre on my way to my art class (and yes, I'll post the results soon - the reason there haven't been any for a while isn't that they've been too embarrassing to post, but that I haven't got to the last couple and there was half term too). "You haven't got a poppy, love!" he said. "That's because I don't believe in war, and so would hardly be wanting to sport one of its symbols now would I?" I replied, and swiftly side-stepped him as I was already late, before I got the usual, "But you owe your freedom to the men who died!" guff, and felt compelled to make myself later by enlightening him by sharing my answer to that.

At 10.59am yesterday I happened to be driving through Local Village centre. Just as the British Legion Lot were about to do their stuff complete with banners and full military dress. Just seeing a lot of fuddy duddies standing around in such a helpless manner made me really angry. Isn't it time everyone stopped mourning the dead, with pointless annual vigils? There's fuck all that can be done for the dead now! Instead let's make something constructive come out of all the past bloodshed.

The Steve Earle CD around which the current tour (that we caught in London on Wednesday night) is based ("The Revolution Starts...Now") was in the CD player. I turned it on. Loudly. "Just another poor boy, off to fight a rich man's war" was the line that blared out. I got some looks. I didn't care. I have as much right to make a point as they do. Lest we forget, eh? Lest who bloody well forgets? The people of a country remember, it only appears to be The Leaders who have memory problems. See yesterday's TFTD.

So - Steve Earle - "The Revolution Starts... Now!" Tour.
What's it all about?

Awareness raising of issues.

Getting people to realise that this sad and pointless war is going to go on until everyone who disapproves of it starts making their feelings known, and working together to get the message across. As he said, "We thought the Election in America was all about war, until 2 weeks before polling day when it was instead carefully turned into an election about who can fuck who."

Who cares who fucks who? say I, except when it's Bush and Blair fucking the people of Iraq. And the people of the USA and UK, by squandering financial and personnel resources on a war in which we should never, never, have become embroiled.

There will be a second part of this post, about Steve Earle's view of what it will take to stop the war, but, for now, I'll leave you with the explantion of the CD on which the tour is based, from his website (I'd link it directly, but it doesn't support page links so I'll cut and paste instead, safe in the knowledge that he won't mind):

The word "immediate" best describes the atmosphere around the studio as this record was being made in the late spring of 2004. The prisoner abuse scandal had just broken and the Bush administration, still reeling from the 9/11 commission hearings, was circling the wagons. The Democrats, for their part, were carefully (sometimes, in my opinion, too carefully) trying to sort out how best to press the advantage. Meanwhile, back here in Tennessee, me and my boys had a deadline to meet.

The most important presidential election of our lifetime was less than seven months away and we desperately wanted to weigh in, both as artists and as citizens of a democracy. All but two of these songs were recorded within 24 hours of the first line hitting the paper. We worked 12- and 14-hour days and in between takes and over meals we talked about the war, the election, baseball, and women, in precisely that order.

Maybe I am getting old.

Democracy is hard work. American democracy requires constant vigilance to survive and nothing short of total engagement to flourish. Voting is vital, but in times like these voting alone simply isn’t enough. By the time some of you hear these songs the election will be over. Then the real struggle begins.

When the dust clears and the votes are all counted (we’re watchin’ YOU, Jeb) it will be up to all of us- Democrats, Republicans, Greens, and independents alike-to hold whomever is left standing accountable for their actions on our behalf every single day that they are in power. The day after the election, regardless of the outcome, the war will go on, outsourcing of our jobs will continue, and over a third of our citizens will have no health care coverage whatsoever.

Like I said, it’s hard work and there’s so much to be done. And there always will be.

The Constitution of The United States of America is a REVOLUTIONARY document in every sense of the word. It was designed to evolve, to live, and to breathe like the people that it governs. It is, ingeniously, and perhaps conversely, resilient enough to change with the times in order to meet the challenges of its third century and rigid enough to preserve the ideals that inspired its original articles and amendments. As long as we are willing to put in the work required to defend and nurture this remarkable invention of our forefathers, then I believe with all my heart that it will continue to thrive for generations to come. Without our active participation, however, the future is far from certain. For without the lifeblood of the human spirit even the greatest documents produced by humankind are only words on paper or parchment, destined to yellow and crack and eventually crumble to dust.

Yours for the motherfuckin’ revolution,

Steve Earle

Fairview, Tennessee
May 2004

Lyrics: The Revolution Starts Now

I was walkin’ down the street
In the town where I was born
I was movin’ to a beat
That I’d never felt before
So I opened up my eyes
And I took a look around
I saw it written ‘cross the sky
The revolution starts now
Yeah, the revolution starts now

The revolution starts now
When you rise above your fear
And tear the walls around you down
The revolution starts here
Where you work and where you play
Where you lay your money down
What you do and what you say
The revolution starts now
Yeah the revolution starts now

Yeah the revolution starts now
In your own backyard
In your own hometown
So what you doin’ standin’ around?
Just follow your heart
The revolution starts now

Last night I had a dream
That the world had turned around
And all our hopes had come to be
And the people gathered ‘round
They all brought what they could bring
And nobody went without
And I learned a song to sing
The revolution starts now

Note to all those on Witch's Gardening Question Panel

Just had a very nice email from the Head Gardener at Hidcote Manor Gardens in reply to my question about the tree in the pot.

He says it is a Rhus typhina laciniata, but he warns that, "If you have sensitive skin the sap can cause irritation especially in bright sunlight." Otherwise known as the Cutleaf Staghorn Sumac. Very well done to e, Tim's contact and Jo for correct identifications.

He thinks that the seat (which has been there for many years) is a blacksmith's special creation, so I'll just have to send Mr BW on a blacksmithing course so he can learn to make one (he's been wanting to do a course for ages anyway. Probably ;) ).

Thought for the day

We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise, we harden.

- Goethe

Later...

Lots to say about the Steve Earle concert in London last night, not least that he was excellent (as ever), but the support act (Alison Moorer) was dreadful (although she was great doing the couple of numbers she did with Steve & The Dukes).

But, unfortunately, it will have to wait, because bungle is taking me shopping. So I'm off now to get furnishings for the Open Space Project (that, for anyone who's not keeping up, is the room that used to be the spare bedroom, where we've got rid of all the furniture to make some space because I've come to the conclusion that space = calm). We'll see how successful he and his pink shopping gene can be in separating Value Witch from her hard-earned/saved pennies :)

Oh yes - and - on that subject, I've just received a "Stress Check" catalogue in the post that I didn't order. It came in a hand-written envelope, with a stamp on it, with no enclosed note or compliments slip. Now... who do I suspect? ;)

And, I think I'll re-name the Open Space Project "The Rest Room". Because it amuses me to so do :)

Thought for the day

People who start wars have one thing in common - they ain't fuckin' goin'.

- Steve Earle, Hammersmith Apollo, London, 10.11.04

Environmental Witch

Yesterday, a kind person sent me some interesting things in the post, including something that I hadn't seen before. A Remarkable Pencil, made from one recycled plastic cup. Apparently they have been around since 1998, when they won Invention of the Year, but somehow I'd managed not to know about them, despite being an avid collector of free stationery from exhibitions, and despite the company making them having been demonstrating doing so in the Millennium Dome (which we visited - on a freebie ticket, of course, I wasn't paying more money from my own pocket for the 'pleasure'!).

I am particularly pleased to see that there is an environmentally friendly use for such cups as I get very annoyed when I see water coolers with stacks of accompanying plastic cups, and people using vast quantities of them every week. It's just not necessary. If Mr BW can manage to take a glass to work to use for water, and wash it occasionally, so can everyone else who works in an office.

Although the technology is now there to recycle recycle such cups, I wonder how many offices and other places of large cup consumption actually separate their waste into paper and plastic and recycle it? Not many I suspect. Not enough certainly.

While looking for some info on recycled cup pencils, I stumbled upon a site that has some interesting ideas for gifts made from recycled items.

And, while I'm on the subject, did you know that fleeces are made from recycled plastic bottles ? Only 25 are needed to make one fleece.

And here's the best summary of info on plastic recycling that I've come across.

I hope that you're recycling your plastic, and trying to cut down your consumption. I suspect that my local Sainsbury's are sick of me filling in Customer Opinion Cards to complain about over-packaging of particular goods, but I don't care, it only takes seconds, and the message may just percolate back to whoever makes decisions about packaging, eventually.

Thought for the day

In Britain, we use about 15 million plastic bottles a day.

Recycling one plastic bottle can save enough energy to power a 60-watt lightbulb for 6 hours.

Man-made delight

I've been zooming up and down the M11 a lot recently for various reasons, some 'business', some 'pleasure', and some 'other'.

This has given me lots of chances to look at one of my favourite examples of my favourite objects in the built environment, which are water towers.

The one between Stansted and Harlow is just perfect in every way. I haven't yet managed to get a photo of it as I haven't been past during daylight hours when I haven't been driving, and, surprisingly, I have failed to find an image anywhere on the internet.

But, it's aesthetic perfection in every way as far as I am concerned. Beautifully styled and shaped, perfectly proportioned and balanced. And it's useful. It makes me happy just looking at it.

I keep thinking that I'll start a project to photograph every water tower in the UK, but I'm sure someone must have already done that, and I'm not sure where to get a complete list of locations (or, indeed, that such a list even exists). I've done no research on this, it's just a nice idea that drifts around my head in my fluffier moments. It's nice to have nice ideas like that, because, for the remaining 99.999% of my time I have an idea and boom, it happens. Because I'm like that.

What are your favourite items from the built environment?

Thought for the day

People can achieve meaning in their lives only if they have made commitments beyond the self - religious commitments, commitments to loved ones, to one’s fellow humans, to excellence, to some conception of an ethical order - you give life meaning through your commitments.

- John Gardner

A special place

Another view

For any keen tree identifiers, here's a magnified segment (leaves/bark) of the tree in the picture on the right below. I'm usually prety good at trees, but this one has foxed me and my RHS Encyclopaedias.

Autumnal

Questions:

1. Where were these pictures taken? (Clue: it was at a National Trust property we visited the week before last)

2. What is the lime green tree in the tub? (because I want one to go in the special pot that I got Mr BW for his birthday recently - I would link the place I got it from, but I can't, because then Mr BW would know how much I'd spent ;))

3. Where can I get a seat like that? (because I want one to go round the lime green leaved tree in the special pot)

(And yes, I may just have to ring the National Trust property and ask them Q2 and Q3, and, yes again, Mr BW is going to spend his birthday money on these items, even though he doesn't know it yet :))

Thought for the day

What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sunday after work

Some months ago a mother told me that, "I hate the sound of my child's voice." She couldn't tell me why, and persisted in saying, "I just do," despite my best efforts to get her to think about what it was that she disliked so much.

Today I've finally understood what she meant...

We've been planting, tidying, cutting back, putting away, arranging, and generally finishing off the Coven Grounds for the winter.

It was eerily silent, and overcast, and in the background the whole time were various of the D'Oves (who appear to number 10 or 11 at present, depending on whether it's Mr BW counting or me) exercising their vocal chords. "Coo, coo, coo," all day along is enough to drive a BW to drink.

Ah - there are nice bottles of Tiger Beer in the fridge (on special offer at Sainsbury's at the moment). Excellent :)

Google works in weird ways

Can someone tell me how the Google search: "related:www.jordanfanclub.co.uk/" produces 27 returns, including bunglePaul, DG, dave, Alan and me? Bizarre in the extreme.

Memo to self

No more American baiting for a while ;)

And, for the record, I'd just like to say that anything stereotypical that I ever say does not include anyone in my sidebar (their refreshing ability to take the piss out of their countrymen in their different ways balance is why they're there... :)).

The saddest thing I've seen for a long time is this site, where Americans are posing with placards proclaiming their sorrow for recent events. Why? What do they think it will achieve?

Isn't it good when you get tasks you've been avoiding for ages out of the way?

They are rarely as awful as you fear, and neither do they actually take as long as you think they will. But they still get put off, don't they?

Right, final push on the bulbs and pansies today...

The 70th Make Blue Witch Laugh Award

2 contenders this week.

Not sure if it's my sense of humour that has returned, or whether it's yours, but, whatever, it's a welcome change.

Contender 1: Mr D:

The shenanigans over at Uncle Sam’s this week served only to remind me of the unworldlineness of much of its populace – something we experienced first-hand when we holidayed recently in their back garden – Hawai’i.

We spent a goodly part of the fortnight trying to convince enquirers that we really weren’t Australian – not that I have anything against Ozzies, but Brits spawned many of the émigrés to both continents and must surely be entitled to be recognised as different?

“So, you’ve flown across two ponds, then?”

“Well, you’ve allegedly flown to the Moon and back, so we’ve hardly over-exerted ourselves” we replied.

Contender 2: DG:

I nearly devoted yesterday to the 35th anniversary of my first day at school, for example, except that George Bush got in the way of a few twee reminiscences about my initial meeting with the class guinea pig. Somehow it doesn't feel right to talk about that anniversary a day late.

On that subject, tell me, how can the