Blue Witch

Power

BW Blue Star to terreus who sucessfully guessed that the picture just below is the mess left by the electricty worker (I hesitate to say 'electrican', because I didn't perceive him as such) who was sent to change our 9 years and 9 months old Economy 7 meter, fitted the day we moved in here, because it was deemed to be at the end of its useful life.

Did you know that every meter, under the terms of the Electricity Act 1989, has to be changed at the end of its certified life? These lives are 10, 20, 30 or 40 years. We were unlucky, ours was only 10, which was annoying as my spells over the past 10 years had resulted in the Economy 7 period slipping from starting at 00:30 and ending at 07:30 GMT to ending at nearly 09:15 GMT. And, as the time clock has got nearly two hours slower over the ten years, I've long suspected that it might have measured less electricity than we've actually used too. However.

The electricity worker turned up at just after 2pm. I knew that he'd arrived because not only did he ring the doorbell 4 times in a row, but he also repeatedly banged on the door with a force last used a few months back by the Parcel Line delivery driver who got told off by his boss because I rang and complained that I did not expect the arrival of my parcels to be heralded by abuse to my front door that would have done the Drugs Squad credit.

However, where were we? Ah, yes. I opened the door to the electricity worker who shoved his ID card in my face. Miffed by then, I took the card from him and peered at it, then slowly back at him. Several times.

And then, in my best schoolteacherly voice, and in very measured tones, said, "Hard to tell if the picture is you, with that red baseball cap you have on back-to-front. Is that part of your pale blue uniform, or is it supposed to look cool?" He got the hint, took it off, and stuck it under his jacket. He had dreadful acne. He looked 14, but then I suppose he must have been 17 to have had a driving licence.

I left him to get on with it. He didn't have the meter he was meant to fit, "Because we've run out," so did some kind of bodge-job with a time-switch "Controlled by Radio 4" and a separate multi-rate meter. And he had my electricity off for nearly half an hour, rather than the 19 minutes it said it would be off on the letter sent to "The Occupier, The Coven."

The bespotted electricity worker assured me that the Economy 7 period was set to the original 00:30 to 07:30 GMT, but I already knew that it wasn't, way before I stood in my driveway in my white towelling dressing gown this morning at 07:59 (remember we're on BST, so an hour ahead, now) and watched it click onto peak rate half an hour before it should have.

I made the electricity worker clear the detritus in the picture just below out of the bottom of my meter box, telling him that, "Good workmen always leave the place as they've found it," and smiling sweetly at him.

He was in a hurry, he said, as he had already changed 15 meters that day and still had 10 more to do. "You're expected to do 25 jobs in a day?" I asked. "No," he replied, we only have to do 15. After that we're on big bonus money." Not bad, to have done your day's work by 2.30pm, and then be on bonus... I bet they only ever managed 15 in a whole day before bonuses were introduced...

Anyway, I've just rung up our electricity supplier to moan about the change in our Economy 7 period, and pointed out that, due to our pattern of electricity usage, we will be somewhere between £50 and £60 a year worse off as a result. I did the 'poor pathetic woman act' that I so detest when I see others doing it. But it worked. They're going to send someone round to change the timeclock back to what it was before Spotted Dick came round yesterday. But not for 3 weeks. And, as I pointed out that that delay would cost us money, we've also got a £5 credit on the next bill :)

What and why?

Thought for the day

You cannot stay on the summit forever. You have to come down again. One climbs and one sees; one descends and one no longer sees, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one no longer sees, one can at least still know.

- René Daumal

Packaging: Part 6

There's only one washing up liquid that I can use without Marigolds, and it's Fairy. Anything else has been scientifically proven over 42 years to bring me out in a rash.

I treasure my collection of old style bottles (all 2 of them, and they only survive because Mr BW hasn't yet managed to sneak them into the recycling box without me noticing):

When I was a Small Witch, only Palmolive came in the current Fairy-shaped bottle. I remember because I made a Queen Elizabeth I doll from instructions in a magazine. Mummy BW had to buy Palmolive specially so I could have the bottle as a base.

Party Politics

With the General Election widely tipped to be on 05.05.05, do you know where the main parties stand on each of the key issues?

I was only thinking yesterday that everyone seems to think they do, but that, if challenged, most of us probably couldn't produce a coherent summary.

Thanks to a comment by minnow for providing this link to where the 3 main parties stand on 14 key issues.

*goes off to put rings round preferred policy in each key area, and then to add up the rings to see who gets the BW votes*

Thought for the day

But what is the difference between literature and journalism?
...Journalism is unreadable and literature is not read. That is all.

- Oscar Wilde

Mistaken identity

Oh dear.

Apparently people are now being encouraged to pretend to be me.

Error.

Thought for the day

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.

- Oscar Wilde

Hellebores at Beth Chatto's last Friday

Easter Eggs

These were our present from the hens this morning.

I hadn't intended to indulge Mr BW's chocolate habit, but then, a couple of weeks ago, I saw a mini Jenga game, on offer, and I wanted that, so I bought it. It came with included excess matter for the recycling box, a chocolate egg and a chunky KitKat. So he was in luck.

Then on Thursday lunchtime I was in Sainsbury's (must have picked the wrong time - the queues were worse than those at the FOTCR), and they had 3 creme-egg sized Smarties eggs going very cheep, and I needed a pack of Mini Eggs to decorate the top of the dessert for tomorrow when Mummy & Daddy Mr BW are coming over for the day, and 2 packs were only marginally more expensive than one. So he was in luck again.

At the beginning of the weekend, we had a bit of an over-stock situation on hot-cross buns. Mr BW decided to spend some of the shareholders' profit and went out to get some for his team, and *coughs* a few packs, let's say didn't get the chance of being eaten by them, so ended up here, and I unknowingly bought 4 packs of 6, just in case of unexpected visitors. Of which there have been a few.

However, the buns have been pretty disgusting. But then, what do you expect when they are BOGOF (12 for £1)? Take off the price of the packaging, transport, manufacturing costs, and profit, and you're left with 5p for the ingredients. That explains why all the fruit has nasty pips in it. Cheap dried fruit always does.

I was cleaning out the hens yesterday and, by the usual Witchy co-incidence, the newspaper I used to line the bottom of the ark was from Easter 2001. There was an advert for Sainsbury's hot cross buns - 99p for 6, or buy one, get second half-price. 3 fewer for a pound than today.

I wouldn't have minded paying more for a decent product, but there wasn't a choice, and there isn't a local baker near there now as the supermarket killed him. I haven't made buns for years, but I may just start next year...

The 80th Make Blue Witch Laugh Award

Sunday Update: Or, more precisely, the text that I somehow forgot to paste in yesterday...

With this week having been one long round of disaster after disaster (eg nail in almost brand new £84 tyre in a place where it couldn't be repaired; male quail escaping - so, that's a stray male and a stray female now, that'll upset the local ecological balance; half a pint of double cream with a faulty seal on the lid so that it leaked all over the rest of my shopping and then dripped all over the brand new carpet before I realised), and me struggling to rebalance my energies and so get rid of the horrific pain in my neck and shoulder that always strikes when things get unstable, it's unsurprising that I haven't laughed at much.

However, I'm sure that that will make Dave doubly pleased to have finally won his very first MBWLA Trophy:

The midwife also gave us a handout titled "Tips For Fathers To Be!" Most of the contents are very sensible, geared to making the labour as easy as possible, but some of them are ridiculous.

For example, during second stage, it advises you to 'Tell her to imagine "opening and giving", avoid using the word "push".' Opening and giving? What? That's a load of bollocks. I think I'd get my head ripped off If I said something like that. I have taken on board the tip about not using 'push'. I took out the thesaurus and dug out some alternatives: 'thrust' and 'shove' aren't too bad but my personal favourite is 'propel'. It conjures an image of a line of midwives in various positions on the other side of the room ready to catch the baby as it comes flying out of the womb. I shall definitely be trying to use it when the time comes.

Thought for the day

Resentments are sneaky, tricky little things. They can convince us they're justified. They can dry up our hearts. They can sabotage our happiness. They can sabotage love.

Most of us have been at the receiving end of an injustice at some time in our lives. Most of us know someone who's complained of an injustice we've done to him or her. Life can be a breeding ground for resentments, if we let it.

"Yes, but this time I really was wronged," we complain.

Maybe you were. But harboring a resentment isn't the solution. If it was, our resentment list would resemble the Los Angeles telephone directory. Deal with your feelings. Learn whatever lesson is at hand. Then let the feelings go.

Resentments are a coping behavior, a tool of someone settling for survival in life. They're a form of revenge. The problem is, no matter who we're resenting, the anger is ultimately directed against ourselves.

Take a moment. Search your heart. Have you tricked yourself into harboring a resentment? If you have, take another moment and let that resentment go.

- Melody Beattie

Art Class: Session 18

This is the finished version of The Ginger Familiar (first stage just below).
I showed it to her and she purred.
Mr BW wants to put it in a frame.
I think that there may be a future in pet portraits :)

Art Class: Session 17

I started painting my pussy last week.
A3 size, in watercolour.
Getting her colours was very hard.
This is the half-way stage.

Value Witch - Broadband

I know that a lot of readers use NThelL as an ISP (never have I been so happy to leave a company as I was when I changed providers at the end of last year when broadband became available here). NThelL are increasing connection speeds for free - but if you don't want to wait until they get round to doing you here's how to get it now.

And if you're looking to change ISP for a better deal, or thinking of moving to broadband, here's an up-to-date guide to the best deals around.

Thought for the day

We are all prone to the malady of the introvert who, with the manifold spectacle of the world spread out before him, turns away and gazes only upon the emptiness within. But let us not imagine there is anything grand about the introvert's unhappiness.

- Bertrand Russell

£1 to spend a penny

BBC Breakfast this morning carried the story that Ryanair (who should, I think, be known as "fly for free but beware the add-ons") are considering charging passengers one pound to use plane toilets.

I can't find a link to this story, yet.

But - isn't it a bit short-sighted of them? Surely people won't buy their over-priced refreshments if they also have to pay to get rid of them afterwards?

I already have concerns about them as an airline that charges for water onboard, despite all the research evidence pointing to the need to drink water copiously while flying.

I'd posit that volume and profit are Ryanair's only motives and they have no interest in their customers' health and wellbeing.

Currently the most overt example of a growing business trend, I fear.

Packaging: Part 5

I'd suggest that you start here and read up if you haven't read previous parts in this packaging series.

Here's another example of old and new packaging, again of Crown Paint.
And another case of where I don't feel that new is better. In fact, I think 'new' (the tin on the right) is diluting the message. The product being sold is less clear, and the concept being sold is lost.

I just can't help wondering about packaging. I know rather too much about the psycho1ogy of marketing and consumer preference, and (vicariously, through Mr BW and other friends and acquaintances who make their livings from that world) of business principles, and am way too cynical about the Forces That Control Us in this day and age to overlook what is happening.

Make no mistake. Packaging, together with advertising, creates brand image. This is what initially sells a product, and therefore an area that is widely researched and generously funded when products are developed or changed.

So, is this shift in packaging styles all just part of the homogenisation of society? Make everything lose its unique identity for - well... for what? Social control? Or is it to make everything so complex that people feel that they no longer have a choice, and so just go for the 'prettiest' wrapper positioned on a sales shelf in the 'best' position?

Thought for the day

The mind creates the abyss, and the heart crosses it.

- Sri Nisargadatta

Quiz

Just noticed that Random Mike has an 'Old Farts Quiz' based on music or old ads that some of you may be able to relate to (or, for the purists amongst you: 'to which some of you may be able to relate' ;))

Packaging: Part 4

Following on from Part 3 just below, here are 2 more examples of old and new packaging (you can tell we've recently done lots of repainting in the same colours as last time round, can't you?).

This time the product is an emulsion paint from the Crown Period Colours range. In case anyone is interested, the colour is 'Smock' and it's a gorgeous warm neutral colour, that goes perfectly with BW Blue :)
It may be easier to tell which is the old and which is the new tin here, but the extra question I'd ask this time is - which packaging best portrays the concept of old-fashioned colours to you?

Packaging: Part 3

Just recently I've noticed an enormous and frequent change in product packaging. Mostly labels, but sometimes container shape or size.

In fact, it's now got so bad that I haven't always been able to find products I've bought for years on the shelves when I'm out shopping, as they are no longer instantly recognisable. I'd have thought that good marketting would rely on easy product recognition. But, no. Apparently it now seems to hinge on the apparent aesthetics of the packaging.

For instance, have you noticed how many formerly round plastic bottles (eg containing squash or water) now have 'finger grips' incorporated? These just make their secondary use, prior to recycling, harder for people like me who believe in using cut-off plastic bottles as water pots when painting, or mini-greenhouses for plants, before consigning them to the melt-down pile.

I've got a few pictures of 'old' v 'new' packaging, side-by-side, to post over the next couple of days. I'm not going to say which is which, and if you know, ssshhhh. But, your other observations are welcome.

Which do you prefer, the packaging on the left, or the right?

Packaging: Part 2

Like Jamie's School Dinners, where just 37p of the £1.50 cost is for the actual ingredients, so it is with most food products. The pretty packaging costs, as many of you have already been discussing in the comments below.

When buying a gross (144 for those of you who didn't have to learn such fun facts at school), the g1a55 jar5 I was mentioning below cost 20.4p each. When buying a minimum of 1,000 gross at a time (as our county organisation does), the price drops to 16.3 pence each. Add to that the cost of the labels, and you've got to at least 20p. Twenty pence for containment material that most people will just put in the bin, without a thought.

And it's the same for every product. Worse for some - for example, where you've got a plastic inner tray, a cardboard outer, with a cellophane overwrap, and several sticky price flash labels on it, strategically placed to catch your eye. Those printed labels cost at least a penny each (more if they are multi-coloured).

I doubt many of you have ever spared a thought for how much a shop's printed carrier bag costs (around 8p, unless you order in multi-thousands), or the price of the trays your takeaway arrives in (8p in plastic, slightly more in aluminium)? And you're paying for this packaging, in the cost of your goods.

Regulations have stopped people taking along their own containers to shops for refilling (am I the only one who remembers this kind of shopping?). And meanwhile, landfill is getting fuller, and recycling isn't as popular as it needs to be if EU targets are to be met.

Isn't it time that some serious thought was given to this issue? You can't eat the boxes after all... and kids don't use them for junk modelling anymore, do they? (they're far too 'sophisticated' for such educationally worthwhile activities.)

Packaging: Part 1

The cost of the packaging of the goods we buy is not something we usually think about, is it?

For starters, and without looking it up, how much do you think a standard 1lb (454g) gla55 h0ney jar (with metal lid) costs?

Coo

My spells are in a mess again.

I was doing some background ones (they are ones that don't need full attention, you just put them on and wait):

1. For a broody bantam with fluffy legs (because I like those ones, although I was spelling for a blue or buff/rusty-coloured one) to appear, to hatch some quail eggs for us.
2. For all D'Oves hatched this year to be pure white and not ploppy-black-edged-tails, or ploppy-black-tails (because I don't like those ones).

And what happened?

A beautiful pure white ultra-wide fantail D'Ove with furry legs turned up from somewhere and proceeded to shack up (or maybe that should be 'cote up'?) with one of last year's baby D'Oves. As they are currently collecting twigs, no doubt the patter of tiny feathered legs will follow in a few weeks.

Meanwhile, the first pair of the year, the ones that hatched in a snowstorm, are turning white, and getting their adult flight feathers.

Thought for the day

Let's have a merry journey, and shout about how light is good and dark is not. What we should do is not future ourselves so much. We should now ourselves more. "Now thyself" is more important than "Know thyself." Reason is what tells us to ignore the present and live in the future. So all we do is make plans. We think that somewhere there are going to be green pastures. It's crazy. Heaven is nothing but a grand, monumental instance of the future. Listen, now is good. Now is wonderful.

- Mel Brooks

Archery

Cut it all down on Tuesday.
Washed and rubbed it down then stuck a litre of Hammerite round it yesterday and now have to restore it to its former glory.

The 79th Make Blue Witch Laugh Award

Yes, it's back. Something finally made me laugh.

Admittedly, only one thing, but it nicely ties in with something I forgot to post about before.

I think that Dave Allen who died on Thursday 10th at 68 (he made me laugh a lot when I was younger), would have approved of this one. And I care not that it's probably deemably politically incorrect.

In fact, I'm considering dong a Grumpy Old Non-Politically Correct Witch Week next week. Because I've had enough of certain elements of society. Particularly vulgar young Asian men yobs in unnecessarily huge black Mitsibushi Warriors with blacked out windows who nearly knock over elderly people in garden centre car parks by reckless fast reversing, and then threaten Witches who have yelled at them to stop them so doing; kids who think that driving around with 7 of them in a Mini convertible is a good idea; people who drive through narrow country lanes at 90mph on near-summer's afternoons like today, with their sound systems blaring loudly enough to be heard half a mile away; cyclists who ride past The Coven shouting to each other at the tops of their voices; and Townies who move out here and proceed to put up 12 500W halogen lights around their properties and leave them on all night, regardless. Piss off back to your noisy light-polluted towns you ignorant people, or show some respect to those of us who choose to attempt to live peacefully.

Anyway, enough of the rant.

2 points and a trophy to drD for his comment to DG's post on St Patrick's Day (although this does seem rather strangely familiar drD - if it is an original, it's brilliant, it should have been used by someone on something before; if it's not, it just proves how the funniest things can sometimes be the most obvious):

No 7: Jesus was Irish.

Let's look at the evidence:

• Never married
• Lived with parents until 29
• Always telling stories
• Went out drinking with the lads on his last night
• Thought his mother was a virgin
• Mother thought he was saviour of the world
• Last request was a drink

Speaks Duck: Part 6

In which Mr BW continues his tale of his quest to learn the language of the businessmen of the country that will have world domination by 2050, if the economists are correct:

War of attrition

We, the original 15 brave souls, are now 8 (including a strange lady who joined after lesson 5, appears occasionally and is frankly a pain in the arse; no-one wants to be paired with her on the exercises because she knows nothing, is a dead weight, and a hopeless partner).

The numbers fell quite quickly, settled down, and now seem to have dropped slightly again. Luckily we have a 2-week break over Easter and we are all hoping that this will give our brains a change to settle down and regroup before we start the second half of the course. It also, of course, means that the 'final test' of which our tutor speaks is becoming a bit of a looming pillar, rather than a distant worry. The nature of the ordeal is somewhat vague, but she said that we needed to start learning more characters, as they are part of the 'test'.

So to this week.

We have mostly been ordering drink:

yi bei pijiou
Pron: ee bay peejeo
Transl: one glass beer

We have also been paying bills, asking for receipts and avoiding being set up with 'a little something for the night sir' (OK I made that last bit up, not that we would want to be set up, no sireee).

Today’s interesting fact: in China women keep their surnames when they marry. This causes some confusion when travelling abroad, in that a mother has a different surname to the children (who take the father's surname). Don't ask me why because I don't know.

But what I can say is that in my limited experience there appear proportionally many more technically educated women in China than the Western world. The standard engineering meeting in the West will be 99.9% male, with any women generally from purchasing etc. In China it will be 75% male, with the women holding very senior jobs and often being technical authority. The balance is still not even, but they are clearly doing something better than us.

This week's question is in 2 parts:

1. What are the three units of Chinese currency? (should be an easy one)
2. What are their slang terms? (hopefully a little harder)

Thought for the day

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste and remember what peace there is in silence.

- Max Ehrmann

(full version of this here)

Weather report

It got to 21 degrees here at The Coven today. As the sun was dropping down to the horizon around 6pm, it seemed like a balmy tropical evening. The half moon was wonderful through the telescope. We cursed the new developments that have brought light pollution to our once pitch-black skies. Unbelievable that just over 2 weeks ago there were snow flurries.

Hard facts

Just wanted to post this one rather than leave it in the comments of the post below (where there's a very interesting debate going on), as I think it really hammers home the points I am trying to make in my original post, and in the comments, about "Live to Work or Work to Live?" It's from an article by Cliff D'Arcy from The Motley Fool (a website that gives good, simple, financial advice, in a format that anyone can understand):

I'm not someone who believes that working long hours is the route to riches. In fact, I'm late for work almost every day and rarely stay late at the end of the day (sorry, Editor!). That's because I learned a valuable lesson in a previous job, which convinced me that long hours and blind loyalty weren't the way to build a secure future.

Some years ago, I had a work colleague who always put in far more hours than I did. She would usually be in the office before me and never left before I did. On average, I reckon that she worked eight hours a week more than I did, which adds up to roughly four hundred extra hours of unpaid overtime per year.

At our annual appraisal, we both received pay rises. I believe that I got 5% and she got 7%. In other words, those extra unpaid hours – amounting to ten more working weeks per year – earned her an extra 2%. This came to about £800 a year more, or around £1.20 an hour extra take-home pay. Yikes!

Rather than earn the equivalent of £1.20 an hour, I continued to go home at my usual time and spent a little time each week putting my finances in order. Here are five things that I did:

• I switched my mortgage to a lower rate, cutting my interest bill by over £1,250 a year;
• I borrowed large sums on 0% credit cards and put this money into a market-beating savings account, gaining an extra £750 a year;
• I shopped around for cheaper home and motor insurance, saving about £300 a year;
• I switched to an online stockbroker, slashing my dealing costs by about £250 a year; and
• I moved my savings to a tax-free cash mini-ISA, boosting my interest by an extra £200 a year.

These gains total £2,750, which is £2,270 more than my colleague's extra pay rise (which came to roughly £480 a year after tax). And, what's more, these tasks probably took a maximum of twenty hours' work. And which makes more sense: putting aside twenty hours a year to get £2,750 more, or working 400 extra hours at £1.20 per hour?

So, please take some time (even thirty minutes each week will do) to knock your finances into shape. It could be the most financially rewarding work that you ever do!

Work to live or live to work?

Did you see Smart Spenders on BBC1 last night?

It's the latest in an increasingly long line of what the Radio Times calls 'buck-up-your-ideas' programmes. The basic idea is that a presenter helps a family facing a cash crisis learn to cut their outgoings.

I only half watched it as I was busy cooking, but, together with a couple of disturbing conversations I had yesterday with people I know (one of whom I told how to save £140 a year by buying petrol at the cheapest garage in town rather than the most expensive, and one of whom I told how to save £400 by using a crafty scheme to avoid paying early redemption penalties on a loan; both of whom told me, in no uncertain terms, that they couldn't be bothered), it did make me return to one of my favourite subjects.

1. Why are most people in this country so absolutely dreadful with money?
2. Why do so many people live beyond their means?
3. Why is consumer debt at an all-time high?
4. What's stopping people who are bad with money taking advice from the many good sources around and becoming more financially astute?

Of course the answer is complex and multi-faceted. I'm not going to start listing what those facets might be because: (a) you're probably already bored reading this, and (b) I'd like to hear your views on the subject.

What saddens me most is that until people accept that mastering their money is the only way to really be in control of their lives, then they will exist, at the whim of marketeers, to make the lives of company shareholders easier, while making their own more difficult and less fulfilling.

I think the crux of the matter is that many people unquestioningly accept the premise that one has to go to work in order to earn money to live, without thinking that, at the most fundamental level, all they are actually doing is trading their time for the means to exist. If they used money, the fruits of their daily labours, more wisely, they would be in a position to make more choices about how they spend their time.

Work is not the be all and end all. Except that so many people's personal identity, self-esteem and psychological well-being are tied up in our cultural acceptance that one should be employed in order to be a valuable human. And that many people wouldn't have the faintest idea how to meaningfully occupy themsleves if they didn't have the distraction of work to fill the majority of their waking hours.

Value Witch

First class stamps are going up from 28p to 30p on Thursday 7 April. Beat the price increase by stocking up on the ones in stamp books that simply say '1st' on them. They're valid indefinitely.

And if you have savings that are not in a tax-exempt place, do put your £3,000 annual allowance into a Mini Cash ISA before the end of the tax year on 5th April (and add another £3,000 on the first day of the new tax year on 6th April). A good article on where to put savings is here. And info on Mini Cash ISAs, including a list of best buys, is here.
(Note for Advanced Disciples: this is a great place to stash 0% balance transfer money you don't need elsewhere:))

Thought for the day

Kites rise highest against the wind - not with it.

- Winston Churchill

Blink and it's Wednesday already

What's the worst way to start the day? Finding one of your new quail children dead for no apparent reason comes close. The thing about dead birds is that their legs are horrible. Like stiff pipe cleaners. Such a contrast to the soft feathers. I really can't bear to touch them, so I made Mr BW bury her in the newly designated and consecrated Quail Cemetery Area of The Coven Grounds.

Having Mr BW at home for 2 days of this week has quite put me out of routine. We got lots of odd jobs finished off, and lots done in the garden, particularly on Monday which was a glorious day (which allowed the first outdoor supper of the year), but I always feel so stifled and bad tempered when I don't have my own space during the week.

Plus, several of my clients are being unbearably needy at the moment. My way of working with people is very much enabling rather than actually doing, and some of them just can't grasp that. I spent what seemed like the whole of last night on the phone dealing with one perceived crisis or another, and I just feel like they're wanting me to think for them all. Common sense I believe it's called. Uncommonly rare it seems to me... Wish I could bottle it to sell.

So, onto what is left of the week...

I've made a list, and checked it twice, but I still have 28 places to visit and over 100 things needing to be obtained or sorted out before the end of the week. And I really should try to get into London to visit Mr BW's Aunt who is in hospital there, having had a major operation last week. That's what happens when my weeks get compressed - things don't get fitted in as I'm doing other things, so everything gets backlogged, then I feel pressured.

And I'm suffering from lack of enthusiasm (as well as time) to write up any of the 20 or so half-researched blog ideas kicking around my brain at the moment. As with most things, I'm fine as long as there are enthusiastic people around me - but, sadly, some of my faves aren't being prolific, and the impetus and momentum I need to keep going just aren't there. And I make no secret of my distaste for the competitive element of blogging, so the 'bloggie fever' out and about just annoys me. Hence why the diet round here just recently has been art, creme eggs and quail, with a bit of duck from Mr BW thrown in occasionally. I suppose I'm being artistically and craftily creative at the moment. Which must be better than nothing.

Thought for the day

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost. That is where they should be. Now put the foundation under them.

- Henry David Thoreau

Quail eggs

Our new children have been busy making presents for us.

Quail Tale

I fancied myself as a quail beauty therapist, so I decided to paint their legs and toe nails:

Actually, it was a case of having to, as we needed to be able to identify the new ones from the old ones, and we've run out of leg rings for D'Oves (which would have done the job perfectly, except that we didn't have any).

The Quail Bible says that you can't put new birds in with old, as they are territorial, but we thought we'd have a go anyway. We painted the legs of two of the three new hens and threw then in with the old. Then stood back to watch.

Very quickly the chocolate brown old hen started bashing up all and sundry (not just the new ones). So, we changed our original plan, which was to keep one new hen with the new cock, see if she would lay some eggs, and then hatch them (availability of incubator or broody bantam willing), and caught Mrs Chocolate Brown and gave her to Mr Light Chocolate.

At present the two of them are in the cat box, eyeing each other up, and awaiting Mr BW making them suitable new quarters. I am not enjoying having to keep them cooped up like that, even for a short time. But, considering that quail kept commercially for eggs live their short lives in a cage 5" by 8" by 5", they've got lots of room. Battery quail. Not many people know that they're kept like that. Truly dreadful. And that's why we've got quail. I like quail's eggs, but I can't bear cruelty.

But then, most people are also happy to eat battery hens' eggs (and even if you buy free range eggs, if you eat shop-bought biscuits, cakes, sauces, quiches, scotch eggs etc etc, chances are you're unwittingly supporting cruelty).

Thought for the day

A human being is part of the whole called by us "the universe," a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separate from the rest - a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and affection of a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of understanding and compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

- Albert Einstein

Quiet, weekend

Mr BW and I had a lovely weekend down in Dorset with Old Friends BW. Chatting, eating, chatting, drinking, chatting, walking on the beach, chatting, eating fish and chips in the freezing cold, chatting, walking round a proper country town market, chatting, eating, chatting, drinking, chatting, admiring the views, chatting etc.

They used to live next door but one, but have moved twice since then, and now, by amazing co-incidence, live just 2 miles from my first abode in the West Country c.1984, and 3 miles from the village where Mummy & Daddy BW (who we managed not to run into, thankfully) have retired. They've only been there 5 months, and rather than them giving us the tour of their new area, I gave them the tour, and introduced them to all my old haunts. Which was weird.

We saw a van with "House clearance by [insert name of child previously taught as a 6 year old by BW]" on it. That was weirder.

Old Friends BWs' cottage is delightful. 300 years old, with its own well, which also supplies 3 neighbours (the neighbours have keys to the lid, they don't - presumably to prevent them become dictatorial Water Lords). The old beams and narrow doorways were too low for Mr BW's great height, and it was all too small for my need for space around my extremities (particularly in the smallest rooms), but perfect for them and their adorable 10 week old black and white cocker spaniel.

During the weekend I have been licked, bitten and wee'd on all over.

My assertion after the Edward Fortnight that people who are considering having a child should first borrow a dog for a couple of weeks was more than amply proven.

A slight detour and we came home with two new golden girls, a fawn and a brown cock.

But, we appear to have a problem, because I've now discovered that I didn't read my quail keeping book carefully enough. Apparently hens don't lay well in the presence of cocks, and won't incubate their own eggs. Therefore, if my breeding plan is to be hatched, I'm going to have to acquire an incubator. I saw one on a board in a village shop a few months ago. Only £10. Now, why didn't I buy it?

As Mr BW has holiday to use up before the end of March, we now have another weekend to enjoy. So, it's out into the garden for us: planting (we went to Wisley on the way down to Dorset and Naughty Witch indulged her favourite passion of plant buying while Mr BW was busy helping himself to 13 free "Please try one" samples of a new Green & Black's chocolate flavour - orange and spice, which was 'nasty' according to me, and 'lovely as it's chocolate' according to Mr BW - in the Plant Centre), cutting back, seed sowing, compost digging out and spreading. I may be tired later.

Thought for the day

I have come to the conclusion that politics are too serious a matter to be left to the politicians.

- Charles De Gaulle (1890 - 1970)

When you've heard a song a thousand times and never really twigged the lyric...

I first became aware of this phenomenon in the late 70s when someone I knew sang an odd version of the first line of Killer Queen within my hearing. The one that goes, "She keeps her Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet" (ooh - look, that particular song has loads of misheard lyrics) I think the version was, "She keeps her mowers and handguns in a pretty cabinet." "Well," the person argued, "it's about a Killer Queen, so it makes sense, right?"

On Wednesday, while contributing to TD mike's bloggers disco (at the time of writing, he's not quite at 100 yet, and it's all for charity, so get over there and make your suggestion, if you haven't already), I realised that I'd never known the proper words to my choice, "Sheena Witchy is a Punk Rocker". I'm choosing not to share what I thought they were ;)

Mr D had this lyric up yesterday:

"She unscrews the top of her new whisky bottle.
Shuffles around in her candlelit hovel.
Like some kind of witch, with blue fingers and mittens;
She smells like the cat, and the neighbours - she sickens."

(It's Squeeze, one of my favourite 'feel good' groups, and one with very fond memories, and "Labelled with love")

I realised I'd never thought about the lyrics to that, either. Goodness only knows what I'd been saying while singing along for all these years. But, as Mr BW will tell you, not knowing the words never stops me singing. Even though I'm crap at singing. When he first knew me he used to tell me to shut up. Now he just puts up with it. He's learnt that moaning never stops me either :)

And as for the implicit suggestion in that lyric - well, I don't intend to comment further ;) Those who've met me can draw their own conclusions...

I know that there's loads of other frequently-misheard lyrics - but I can't think of any right now. Can you?

Thought for the day

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.

- C.S. Lewis

Art Class: Supplemental

Good Friend BW and I recently joined the local Art Group as they have a great fortnightly evening programme of demonstrations by well-known artists, practical workshops by other members (about a third of whom are professional artists or art teachers), outdoor summer painting days and exhibitions. All this for just £15 a year!

To be honest, we needed a bit more of a challenge, and the opportunity to learn from others by watching and discussing, than we are getting from just attending the Wednesday Art Class.

It also means that we are being forced to do things that we probably wouldn't otherwise attempt.

Like this, for example:

A2 size (4 times as large as a normal piece of paper), hot press (ie smooth) paper, in gouache (a water-based paint, heavier and more opaque than normal watercolour, so having the ability to produce brasher colour), slopped on with a 1" decorator's paintbrush, with soft pastels applied to highlight afterwards.

The member leading the session provided a 'still life' stimulus of red and yellow striped tulips, in a jug, with some fruit, and then told us to "be psychodelic".

I could get into that kind of stuff...

Art Class: Session 16

This is this week's effort. Quarter imperial size (roughly A3), and in watercolour:
I've decided that I adore Naples Yellow Light as a colour (I hasten to add, this is not the colour that this lemon is painted, but a light almost flesh-tone yellowy colour). In fact, right now, I like it so much that I could just squeeze out a whole tube and look at it for the rest of the day. Except that I haven't got any, which is just as well because I do have work to do, so shouldn't really be thinking about watching paint dry for a pastime.

Someone lent (well, OK, as I'm always correcting people on this point, gave) me a squeeze of Naples Yellow Light yesterday to do the lemon pith. I generally hate all yellows, but, in looking for a link, I've now discovered why I like it so much. It's the complementary colour of BW Blue (aka cobalt blue).

Complementary colours are the exact opposite of a given colour, on a colour wheel (more details here). If you want to darken/shadow/brighten a light colour you are using, or lighten/brighten a dark colour, adding a splash of the complementary colour to the pure original colour will usually work better than adding any other colour.

Oh, and here's a rather nice guide to complementary colours on the web.

Art Class: Session 15

This was last week's (Quarter Imperial - roughly A3 - size and watercolour):

(This is one of the few that I really don't think has scanned and reduced well).

Thought for the day

Colour is like food for the spirit - plus it's not addictive or fattening.

- Isaac Mizrahi

MEME AID: The Troubled Bloggers' Disco

He just couldn't wait till Friday, could he? :)

Imagine, if you will, the blogmeet to end all blogmeets. One blogosphere under a groove. A sea - nay, a veritable ocean - of "LOVE your work!" hugs, "Darling, you were ROBBED at The Bloggies!" air-kisses and "WHEN is someone going to PUBLISH you!" schmoozes, where tout le monde and their blogroll are getting royally rat-arsed on Vodka Red Bulls, and bopping around like maniacs to the sound of... WHAT, precisely?

This is where the meme kicks in.

What I want you to do is compile the playlist for the Bloggers' Disco.

What do you mean, your version says the punk rocker was Sheena? Well, that's just the anonymised version, rather than the magical version, innit.

Those who don't want to pogo can exercise to it. And I suspect you could probably slow dance to it too (does that still happen at discos? The last one I went to was in 1978 so I'm not too sure...).

Right mike, that's £1 in the Comic Relief hat please, and anyone else who wants to similarly relieve him of some currency, please nip over and do so (if you can't think of anything to suggest, 2-4-6-8 Motorway by the Tom Robinson Band would make a good final conga (they do still do those, don't they?) - I wonder how many of us could still do the dance? :)

Food, glorious food

Thoroughly enjoying the new version of MasterChef (every weekday evening for another 3 weeks, 6.30pm, BBC2). At last, a programme where we see real people making real food, under time pressure, and two judges (John Torode and Gregg Wallace) being very rude and patronising to them. Sometimes deservedly. But mostly not.

They've even produced an online course. I'll have a go when I've got some time to spare as I'd *coughs* like a Masterchef e-certificate to go next to my real one from the 1994 Regional Heats of the original version of the competition. That's another story, for another time, though.

I wouldn't enter again now, because I have no desire to work in a professional kitchen (which is the prize this time around). Too much pressure, too long hours, and not enough money or appreciation. However, I would like to build on some cookery demonstration work I've done in the past, and find an inventive way of getting basic cookery skills to people on low incomes who have not a clue about nutrition or how to eat tastily and cheaply. Haven't quite worked out the logistics of that yet, though.

I can turn my hand to most things of a culinary nature, for any number of people. I can look at a hot-potch of ingredients and manage to turn it into something edible (Ready Steady Cook holds no surprises for me). The one thing that I can't make at least as well as the shop version is hummous. It should be simple, but, no matter what I do to it, it just does not work for me.

Is there something that you try to cook that always turns out wrong for you?

It's an ex-egg

You've had enough of creme egggs now, haven't you?
OK, indulge me, just one last one...

Thought for the day

Pop over and wish my Good Friend and Blog Daddy Happy 40th (as a special treat for you, he's even put up a picture of himself today). Strangely, I have a very similar looking one of him from last Friday ;)

(Artwork by Vaughan and co)

Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

So, now you've seen all 10 versions of what one might find hatching from a creme egg (or, if you haven't, scroll down and you will).

Which one is your favourite, and why?

10/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

And last, but not least, we have the masterpiece by Mr Today-Is-My-Last-Day-Of-Being-30-Something, DG himself.
It appears that his brand of logicality assumes that if creme eggs come out of vending machines, then vending machines come out of creme eggs.

Which, of course, begs the question, which came first, the vending machine or the creme egg?

9/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

In my experience, there's always one in every class who subverts the task. A quick scribble and a shout of "I've finished Miss!" Well, in the case of the "What would hatch from a creme egg?" question, that person was Dave.

Ever the pragmatist, while others (see below) were constructing deep and meaningful works of art, he quickly scribbled a cube-like structure and declared himself done. He even had the cheek to object when I insisted that it had to be coloured in. Cue more scribbling, this time with a brown felt pen.

With imaginative and drawing skills like that, you really have to query the visual stimulation that will be accorded to his own soon-to-hatch baby, don't you? :)

8/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

I think that this is possibly the most disturbing of all the responses to the "What would hatch from a creme egg?" question.

It made absolutely no sense to me until I read Steve's post of 2 days later. He was obviously just in a time warp, dreaming up posts in advance, again. Or something ;)

Please feel free to add your own interpretations...

7/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

Can't remember who it was, but someone there moaned that they didn't like my little blogmeet game (they've come to expect them now, and I hate to disappoint, so I have to keep coming up with them) of drawing what would hatch from a creme egg. "It's alright for you and Harriet, we know you can draw, we've seen the proof on your blogs." As I pointed out, I can sort-of draw from life, but, as I have no visual memory to speak of (it measures at the 2nd percentile), I cannot draw things from my head, I am not a natural artist, so I had no advantage whatsover. As is very apparent below.

But, my, my, what a surprise we had when we saw what Invisible Stranger came up with. A real hidden talent :)

Oh - and I'm still trying to work out what he was searching for in his gym bag between pints, so if anyone can enlighten me, I'd be grateful (erm, probably)...

6/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

And here we have what Mrs Planarchy considers would hatch from a creme egg:

Cute, isn't it? And no, she wasn't sitting next to dave, before anyone asks, so any similarities are the result of SWT (Spooky Witchy Transference). Or fluke. Or something that I've characteristically failed to grasp. Make your own choice.

5/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

Considering that I had at least 12 hours more than everyone else to come up with a good answer to the "If a creme egg hatched, what would come out?" question, and that I cheated by pre-preparing an outline of a D'Ove on my piece of paper, I think the resulting attempt is rather sickly actually.

Spooky occurrence though - I took the scanned image, cropped it, then reduced the resolution from 300dpi down to 72. And magically it came out at exactly 420 pixels, which is the width I always use to ensure that image + sidebar fits onto a 600x800 screen.

4/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

"If a creme egg hatched, what would come out?" was the question.

This was NiC's answer:
You probably can't see (largely because I've cropped the image), but it also has a stain on it that suggests it was either used as a beermat, or as a plate for chocolate cake. That may, or may not, be significant to how you care to interpret it.

Thought for the day

When we are not sure, we are alive.

- Graham Greene

3/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

Here's another contribution to the "If a creme egg hatched, what would come out?" question, this time from Harriet:

For those who can't make out the text, I'm told it says, "We said I can draw nude men - this is what one looks like that's been in a creme egg." Moooost interesting, I'm sure you'll agree ;)

2/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

Here's a most interesting contribution to the "If a creme egg hatched, what would come out?" question from dave:

Why's it most interesting?
Your guess is as good as mine ;)

1/10: Inside bloggers' minds creme eggs

I was just musing over which of the 10 technicolour contributions to the "If a creme egg hatched, what would come out?" question to put up first (if you're confused, see here for details), when the search picasso + witch arrived. The first ever appearance of that term as a search. Never one to disobey a sign, it just had to be this one:

I was impressed by Vaughan's artistic talents.
But, I'll leave the interpretation to you :)

Mistakes, I've made a few...

Well, we've had a few disasters here at The Coven since I last had the time to put keyboard to blog.

Firstly, votations.com decided to vanish into the ether 12 hours after I'd put up 3 polls. As I always say, there's no such thing as a free lunch, and nowhere is this more true than in netland. However, I do think that to continue to allow people to sign up for a service that they knew was going to be discontinued the same night was particularly bad practice. Oh well, I suppose I now have another claim to fame - "BW broke votations."

Then, while I was out painting the town on Friday night with some other blog boys and girls in honour of someone's upcoming significant birthday, Mr BW was very busy re-varnishing the dining room floor. The only problem being that he'd had a Chinese, a rental DVD (something violent that I wouldn't approve of, no doubt) and more whisky than he's admitting to, first. I know he had more whisky than he admitted to because varnishing an original wood floor (yeah, we have proper, original, 1929 floorboards, none of your tacky modern IKEA 'wood' flooring for us) with normal nasty shiny varnish, rather than floor varnish, would otherwise not have happened. That will be fun to get off.

Yesterday we successfully moved the nine Hens down from The Coven Orchard onto The Coven Lawn for their annual scarifying and fertilising duties, and then moved the Quail. While I was renewing their sawdust, my favourite, the cream coloured one with chocolate brown edges to her feathers, made a bold bid for freedom. Despite a valiant attempt from Mr BW to recapture her with the pond net, alas she flew far, far, away. And then there were only 5. Luckily we're down in the West Country next weekend and will pop in to collect a replacement from the place they came from. We're also going to pick up a cock so we can have babies. Well, so one of the luckily hen quail can anyway. I quite fancy the patter of tiny quail feet.

One thing that did go right though - we potted up around 300 plug plants. The greenhouses are now stuffed full with geranimus, surfinia petunias, fuchsias and gazanias. Total cost around £30 (much better Value than buying seeds as you don't have problems with poor germination or damping-off). Total cost if we bought them in a few weeks as full-sized plants, rather than growing them on - somewhere around £350-450.

Oh - and the inside story on those sweet eggs mentioned below... over the next couple of days I'll be giving you the opportunity to see inside some bloggers minds in a new way ;)

Thought for the day

If a creme egg hatched, what would come out?

Why are we waiting?

I'm the world's most impatient customer. Well, at least I thought I was. Then, a couple of days ago I found a survey that suggested that it isn't just me.

I thought it would be interesting to compare the broad findings of the survey with the results from BW readers. Do vote in each of the 3 polls below, even if you've arrived here today for the first time. (You do need to hit 'submit vote' for each of the 3 questions.)

(Polls close Sunday night, results early next week.)

Thought for the day

You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.

- Franklin P Jones

Faithful friends

Almost everyone I know seems to have had electrical appliances break down recently.

Mostly washing machines, vacuum cleaners and microwaves.

Our trusty microwave, which was Mr BW's even before we met, and which he told me was one of the first things he bought when he left home (so probably 17 or 18 years old), blew up a couple of weeks ago.

Well, to be honest, it didn't so much blow up as trip the main fuse when 2 large cups of hot chocolate, which I'd put in to heat, tipped over and trickled into the gubbins in the bottom of it. I'd taken the glass turntable out to wash and thought it would be OK to use it without, just to heat milk, forgetting that the plastic supporting trivet would still turn round... It was a case of Mr BW spending several hours seeing if he could take it apart and fix it, or spending £24.99 on a new one. As it was already taking 10 minutes to heat 2 cups of milk (despite once being 750W), we'd decided ages ago that the magnetron was on its way out, and it wasn't giving us Value for electricity, so we decided to splash out.

But, I have a problem throwing out old appliances. I always feel sorry for them being abandoned into landfill after years of trusty service. I want to build an appliance graveyard at The Coven, but, Mr BW won't let me, and laughs unkindly at me. I've got round my problem now by taking photos of the dead appliances before letting them go. Oh, and I keep their instruction books forever in a special file too. I don't care if you think that's sad :)

What was the last appliance of yours that broke down, and how old was it?

Thought for the day

I have the right to be direct about what I'm thinking or feeling.

I don't have to play games with people, expect them to read my mind, or communicate with looks or hints. I can speak directly and to the point about whatever I want or need to say. As long as I say what I mean without being mean, I always have the right to express my opinions, likes and dislikes, needs, and feelings. How the other person receives this information is up to him or her.

I can't be responsible for how others feel about what I say, I can only do my best to express myself in the best way I can, with openness and directness.

- Judith R Smith

Insurance query

Knowing the breadth of knowledge and professional expertise amongst my readership...

Can anyone give me chapter and verse on the law (etc) as it relates to false claims made to insurance companies (particularly in relation to the circumstances surrounding motoring accidents)?

I'm particularly interested in what sort of offence it would be, and what the potential ramifications could be (and whether they'd be likely to happen).

(I stress that this enquiry is for a friend, honest guv ;) The bright and widely blog-read amongst you may work it out. If so, in the interests of 'searchable anonymity', please don't say.)

Speaks Duck with Mr BW, Part 5

This week we have been learning more about Chinese characters.

Did you know? Chinese writing began about 3500 years ago.

Initially it was a very simple process of drawing a picture which closely represented the subject, then, over time, the language developed into more complex words and meanings.

Below is a list of a few characters and how they have developed:

Most characters now include a phonetic and a radical element (two halves to the final character). There are about 200 radicals representing basic subjects. For example, 'mud', 'lake', and 'river' all have an individual phonetic, and the radical for water.

Some combinations are romantically developed. For example, the character 'good' is made up of two halves signifying mother and child, emphasising the family focus within Chinese culture.

There are now 8 basic strokes used in Chinese writing. From these, further combinations, and ultimately full characters, are produced.

There are now about 50,000 characters, with 5,000 in common use

Interesting fact: The Great Wall was an amalgamation of various defensive walls built from about 3000 years ago. They were joined together about 2000 years ago to fend off the rebels (mostly Mongols) from the North, but it took so long to finish that by the time it was done they were all sitting around drinking Chinese tea with each other wondering what on earth they were going to do with this nice wall.

The oft-heard comment that the wall is the only man made thing you can see from space is absolute tosh. Although the wall has been rebuilt in a few sections (most of what is seen as the wall in the tourist areas of Badaling and Mutianyu was actually built from the rubble in the Ming dynasty 1400-1600s, as it feels in the cable car), much of the wall was not rebuilt and is now a rough line of rubble, and some has gone completely, its stone plundered over the years. Even the rebuilt bits are only about 15 foot wide and made of a stone roughly ground coloured (of course) so from above it would blend in with its surroundings. If you could truly see such a construction from space, then what about all of those 6+ lane motorways carving through the world, many of which are jet black and so as greater contrast as you will see, why can't you see those?

Today’s question: So that Mark cannot leap in with the right answer before anyone has a chance to play a little, I have devised a different question this week to which there is no correct answer :)

Who would you like to take a stroll along the Great Wall of China with and why? (as guest writer I reserve the right to award one MBWLA bonus point to the best reply)

That was another quackers post from Mr BW.

Thought for the day

Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, and quietly building new structures.

- John F. Kennedy

*staggers to the computer*

Someone just sent me an email with a recipe for "Leek and Daffodil Soup". In my drugged-up state, attempting to defy sinus-ache of the worst degree (something I don't remember ever suffering from before) which seems to be the latest manifestation of this virus, I briefly thought about making it for dinner, as we have both growing here. Then I realised I hadn't the energy to make any dinner. Then I realised it was meant to be a St David's Day joke.

I'm bouncing about like Tigger on the new carpet. Or is that the co-codamol? I'd forgotten how lovely and bouncy new carpets are. After nearly 10 years, it's lovely to have no squeaky floorboards halfway down the hall (Mr BW fixed them) and no join (I never wanted one to start with, but was assured, 10 years ago, that it wouldn't show, which of course it did. These days I'd have no trouble insisting they replaced it. Then, I was more easily palmed off with feeble excuses).

I was going to post something substantive, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow.

In the meantime - I saw some research yesterday and thought it would be interesting to do a comparison. It would involve several multi-choice poll thingys. The one I used to use doesn't seem to render properly (which may be a MT thing as I've noticed it as a problem elsewhere too). Anyone know of any free (preferable ad-less) poll software that works well?

Thought for the day

I'm not interested in age. People who tell me their age are silly. You're as old as you feel.

- Elizabeth Arden