Blue Witch

Review of The Year 2006

The 3 major events of the year

- The Bui1ders: extensions, trials, tribulations. Lots of freak/record-breaking weather at unexpected and inopportune times.

- Lots of serious illnesses and deaths amongst those dear to me, and those dear to those dear to me. Re-evaluating the importance of things and people, again. Becoming increasingly cynical about the functioning of public bodies and statutory services, and their Value for money, more pointed in my questioning, and more assertive in my complaining (frequently on others' behalf).

- Beginning to move into visually and aesthetically creative outlets, and to increasingly mix with predominantly visual rather than verbal types (although I do wish there were a few more dually talented, younger people, around during the day when I want to be out and about, because the extreme downside of having predominantly older friends and acquaintances is the point just above).

My 3 biggest accomplishments of the year

- Swimming on more than half of all days since April when Mr BW made me join up to the local health club in an attempt to keep me sane by giving me an excuse for a daily escape while The Bui1ders were here. My RSI has largely vanished, and the ever-increasing aches and pains of ageing are kept under control. Plus I got Mr BW to join in September as well, so we've been down there most weekends and every day of the FOTCR™ break!

- Getting Mr BW to give up sweetener/sugar in tea (as it now means I can drink any cup of tea I find around, and finish up the half cup he invariably doesn't drink before he goes to work in the morning, rather than make myself a second cup - that's 200-odd teabags a year saved!).

- Not ranting about most of the things and people that annoyed me here (however, I have spent today getting round to writing all those snotty, moany, letters about poor customer service, bad Value, non-customer friendly cost cutting etc etc to all the organisations on my hit list that I haven't had the time/inclination to tackle before today - and I feel so much better now! :)).

What have been your major events/accomplishments of 2006?

Most odd

Where does everyone from blogland go at this time of year?

It's like the Mary Celeste... but a bit windier, here, methinks.

No escape

I can avoid it no longer. Today Mr BW has me confined to the Inner Coven sorting out loads and loads of paperwork that have been increasingly out-of-control since I ran out of space in my filing cabinets.

This lot, that has been cluttering the floor for months (ever since we emptied the loft so the Studio could be built in its place), has to disappear, and the 6 filing cabinet drawers full of personal (as opposed to work) filing have to be weeded so that I can actually get newer papers into the files in them. I have always liked that expression for sorting old files, "weeding", ever since I first heard it during my time working for the DHSS back at the end of the 70s.

I like weeding files as much as I like weeding the garden.
That is, not at all.
Many's the time my hoard of old documents has come in useful.

Mr BW wants me to shred most of it.
I want to archive most of it.
I will win.

Just to prove...

After what seems like an interminable amount of overcast or foggy, cloudy and grey weather, at near-zero tempreatures, it is 11 degrees C and sunny this afternoon, and the stripey buzzy familiars have decided to come out to play. Which would normally be a daft thing for them to do as there would normally be no food for them. Except that we seem to have roses, lavetera, viburnum, vinca, and catkins already in flower. Now, is this the fault of my spells, or of the western world over-consuming, and the eastern-world over-energising to cope with the over-consuming of its markets?

Mr BW and I have been good energetic Witches, and have been swimming every day, except FOTCR™ Day when the swimming pool was closed, for some reason I haven't been able to fathom ;)

Every time we pop into small local town on our way back from swimming to get a few bits, I have to prevent 'someone' buying a whole lot of stuff he doesn't need in the glorious post-FOTCR™ Retailers-Get-Rid-of-Toot-That-No-one-Wanted-Before-We-Knocked2pOffThePrice-And-Called-It-A-Sale. I failed a bit on the Value front yesterday as I said, "Give me the parking ticket or you'll lose it then we won't get our money back at the till." Guess what happened? I swear he's doing spells to prove something.

At The Coven, spells were still going awry

Tis my favourite day of the year

365 days until the next FOTCR™ :)

I am thrilled with the presents I got this year.
Or, more precisely, thrilled with their wrappings.

Metalicised paper sparks with technicolour glory in the woodburner.

Cloth ribbons and tassels will make fabulous additions to my next crazy p@tchwork project.

Sheer fabric bags surrounding face and body creams (hmmm... far too many of those, how subtle) will be wonderful for my next textile project.

Brown paper can be smoothed out for reuse in the Studio.

Bubble wrap is most useful for annoying Mr BW - one bubble at a time - while he is watching crap TV that I'd sooner not watch, or for stress reduction.

The F&M wicker hamper will be great for keeping unspun fleece (it had 6 bottles of wine in - such a disappointment - we could have had 18 bottles from somewhere else for the same price, and wine is a staple necessity, not a luxury).

Is it sad when you prefer the wrappings to the presents?

Wishing you all the compliments of the season!

Twas the Day Before The FOTCR™

I am worried.

Mr BW has been spending a lot of time over the past couple of weeks painting ceilings and re-tiling after remedial replastering has occurred in various rooms. Whilst doing so it appears that he has been perfecting his spelling technique.

This is not the first year that he has been counting down to the FOTCR™ by singing, "Tis Christmas Day in the morning" with the addition of a suitable number or phrase (eg "Tis Christmas Day in the morning in four days!" "Tis Christmas Day in the morning tomorrow!").

However it does appear to be the first year that his spells have outdone my spells and I have been unable to deal with his thought transference of FOTCR™ edibilities.

"You'd like mulled wine? OK, there is that bottle of red we opened the other day that was a bit fizzy... where did that come from by the way and I'll complain?!" "Erm, it's one of the two dozen we got three years ago that you already complained about and got a full refund, including carriage, and full replacements on, BW - you know, the ones that they forgot to collect as they said they would!"

"These dates are nice, but wouldn't they be nicer with some home-made marzipan in them? What's that? Can you put chocolate in home-made marzipan? No.... but I could dip those marzipan filled dates in chocolate after, if you like..."

"Now, while the food processor is dirty from the marzipan, I could just make some of that almond orange pastry for mince-pies that you like, couldn't I?"

"I know I said I wasn't fighting round Sainsbury's just to get fresh cranberries, but there are still 5 packs in the freezer from last year, aren't there, the ones that were reduced to 20p as they'd overstocked, so we could have cranberry sauce after all?"

No... this can't be happening...

*exits screaming*

Twas the day before FOTCR™ Eve

Outside, in the real world, everyone was busy cooking, frantically wrapping things, fighting in the shops, or stuck in traffic or person jams, or waiting for people in such circumstances.

Meanwhile, at The Coven, BW and Mr BW were busily clearing the last of the bui1ding detritus from the drive, taking it to the local tip (a not so local 12 miles away), going swimming, cleaning out the hens, fitting a new shower door back on to the reinstalled-after-3-months-stripping-drying-and-reconstructing-shower, and trying to keep the h0ney sales box stocked up so that all those who had forgotten to buy small presents for unimportant people could have their problems solved.

Top Trumps

I knew that posting that pic of me and Mr BW was premature.

The cei1ing was not flat and smooth, and so Less-Than-Perfect-P1asterer had to come back, again, on Wednesday to sort it out. Then, Mr BW spent all of Wednesday evening (and nearly all of Wednesday night) giving it 3 coats of paint, so that we could clear all the dusty dust-sheets out in time for Cleaner BW to do her stuff yesterday. And do her stuff she did. That woman's a miracle. If she could be cloned, the world would be a cleaner place.

I had to go to the bank in Large Local Town yesterday, to withdraw the final payment for Chief Bui1der, before chasing cubes round the country. There were three grotty old women spreading themselves threateningly across the main thoroughfare, thrusting bunches of something at passers-by. I don't think it was heather, as that's not in season, unless they'd been desecrating local gardens, but I didn't stop to find out.

As ever, if you refuse their 'kind offer', they shout abuse after you. The standard stuff about "gypsies' curse" amd "bad luck" followed me down the street.

It being the Solstice, and my Powers being at their strongest, I chose not to ignore it as I usually would, and turned round. "You may be a gypsy, but I'm a Witch, and Witches trump gypsies, so there!" I announced triumphantly, but nevertheless walked off speedily.

At the top of the High Street was a flourescent-jacketed Community Support Officer (for non-UK readers, these are the people who are now policing our streets while the real police sit in offices filling in the forms required by the 'government' - they are paid a pittance, have a minimum of training, and have no real power at all, other than a radio to call a real PC from the office where s/he is drinking tea). I told him that the three gypsies were blocking the road and harassing people, and asked him to do something about it.

The bank was busy and there seemed to be a problem with the computer, so it was a good 15 minutes before I left. As I walked back down the street, there were 3 policemen (I know I'm meant to say "male police officers" these days, but, why use 3 words when one will do?) speaking to the gypsies.

As I walked by, I just couldn't resist pausing to say, "See, I told you that Witches trump gypsies!"

*waves*

I'm back, having captured six 4 sided colourless cubes in Peterborough!

Bloody hell the M11 and A14 were foggy though, and full of cars without lights, lorries with insufficient lights, mad white van drivers, and Germans in horse boxes who nearly wrote off the new blue broom when they pulled out into the outside lane, where I was, without signalling, as I was level with their front door (I had a Witchy Accident Premonition this morning, so was expecting something of the sort, so was being doubly cautious, and luckily the central reservation was 3 feet plus barrier at that point or I wouldn't be here now, I'd be sorting tow trucks and insurance companies). And it's cold - hasn't been above zero degrees anywhere I've been outside today, and the thick white frost on the tree twigs has stayed all day.

Are you liking the blue FOTCR™ lights I've arranged for almost everywhere, and the fog I've raised to help reduce carbon dioxide from planes, and stop all those families getting together just to argue and exchange pointless presents?

There seem to be lots of FOTCR™ cards depicting snowdrops this year, don't there? And D'Oves. I suspect the latter are specially chosen though. And a definite preponderance of red. And three people have sent me the same card they did last year. Well, a different card, but the same design. If you must bulk buy, do take ccare not to duplicate. Because I *will* remember.

I have a star to follow...

... only being a Witch, it's a cube. With 4 sides.

In a jiffy

I'm assuming that no-one guessed who my children are yesterday (see bottom of longer post) because you didn't want to see pics of them. Just like no-one really wants to see your holiday snaps, or pics of your friends' embryo, or older friends' grandkids.

So, here goes.

Here they all are playing in a heap on the Studio floor, having been released from their captivity inside large plastic carrier bags, and, up until April at least, the dark and cold in winter, and hot and dark in summer:

I decided that the Race Relations Act didn't apply to my children, so segregated them by colour. For the record I prefer the mustards.

And here they all are, lined up in size order, sitting comfortably on the sofa next to Mr BW.

One of them is 29 years old. There are ones addressed to me at every address I have lived at, bar one, since I was 15. All of them have a unique story to tell. Some of them have been on travels (one to a fellow blogger) and returned to me. Many of them were recycled to me for adoption.

I forgot to take a picture of the hard-backs, but there are 12 of them. I think there are some more in a desk drawer somewhere too.

But, there are now fewer than there ought to be, or were, and I accuse Mr BW of having burnt some while I was otherwise engaged. They were in a heap at the foot of the Blazing BW Blue Altar after all, so it must have been very tempting for him as he thinks I have far too many children. I miss the ones that were cremated.

So, how many children do I have left?

Against paying even more to drive?

Sign the petition "to scrap the planned vehicle tracking and road pricing policy" here, on the No. 10 website.

Those of us who live in rural areas have no choice.
It's car or stay at home.

All is revealed

I knew that there was something about the FOTCR™ that I really didn't understand. A little missing something that would throw it all into gloriously rich technicolour perspective.

And now I've got it. The final piece of the jigsaw. The fact that I've puzzled over for 44 FOTCR™s (and have you any idea how hard it is not to refer to it as the FOTCR™ to people I know personally? For goodness sake, they might Google it, and, shock horror, end up here!). On second thoughts, although I was a horribly precocious child (for proof - let me tell you that my first word was 'aeroplane') maybe it took me a couple of years to actually feel that something was missing.

It's all thanks to Alan, in his comment under the post just below. Lots of things round here are thanks to Alan actually ... not least that the whole lot doesn't implode - or that, when it does, he digs it out of whichever blue hole it's fallen into. Thanks Alan.

However.

There are a few facts about Santa here, but, there is one key fact missing. It took Alan to point out something that my anagrammatical brain had missed. Santa is an anagram of Satan.

That's it, the final piece of the puzzle. Alles klar. Shock, horror. Probably the rest of you knew that. But, I didn't. Someone had kept it from me all these years.

And while I bask in the sub-zero temperature of enlightenment... last summer, in the middle of the bui1ding anguish (which should have been finished by July 21st) I rashly agreed that when it was all completed, I would post a picture of us BWs, just as it came out of the camera, didn't I?

Well, as of 3.45pm yesterday, the bui1ding work does all seem (and note the use of the word 'seem', as I wouldn't like to be seen to be tempting fate, and Chief Bui1der has declared that this is the most fated project he has ever worked on - I think there was a silent 'had the misfortune' in that sentence too) to be finished, so here is the promised photo:

I hope you like it.

Later I will post pictures of my children. Provided that someone remembers what my children actually are.

This is what I now have that I didn't have this morning

• One replastered lounge ceiling and bay window
• One replastered window edge in the Rest Room (that's English Rest, not American, for newer or occasional readers)
• Walls and windows streaming water as it's minus one outside and there's nowhere for it to go - daren't get the dehumidifier out as it may dry the new p1aster too quickly and I'd hate it to crack
• One retiled bathroom, but replacement shower door not yet installed as tile grout not yet dry enough (Mr BW was very busy while two of Chief Bui1der's best were busy talking working)
• Two tickets for the Chelsea Flower Show (afternoon, first day, for any stalkers)
• Two tickets for the Hampton Court Palace Gala in July

The two latter events occured due to the stress of the former.

And I think that, other than some missing paperwork (guarantees etc), that finally concludes the bui1ding project. And you know what that means. Don't you? Who remembers?

It's my WitchDay!

The Coven is a mess.

A complete and utter chaotic mess.

Mr BW is re-tiling the shower-end of the bathroom after all the tiles had to come off in September to deal with the leak/subsidence. It's only now dry enough. It is full of dustsheets and tools.

The cloakroom (affected by the same disaster) is replastered but not repanelled (that's tomorrow's job for Mr BW). It is full of tiles and wood.

The Studio is full of archive boxes I'm being made to reduce in order to fit in the reduced storage space we now have, and hundreds of jiffy bag children that I tipped in a heap in the middle of the floor. I don't know why I did that, I just wanted to look at them all, en masse, at the time...

My Inner Coven is full of papers I am reorganising into the archive boxes in the Studio.

The landing is full of piles of papers and cardboard for recycling.

The hall is full of stuff from the lounge that has been moved out in preparation for Chief Bui1der's p1asterer to re-skim the ceiling (that has bulged again) tomorrow.

Our bedroom is full of WitchDay presents and wrapping paper.

The kitchen is full of everything that has been dumped there in desperation.

The utility is full of dark tabby Familiar PVC who seems to have become very needy of late.

I can't stand it any more. It being a sunny and cold day we're going out. To see the sea I think. Certainly not going anywhere near any FOTCR™ danger areas.

Last year I had nice cards.

This year, please send appropriate presents - but what are appropriate presents for a one-number-twice-year-old Blue Witch?

Friday quiz

Is here (Word file, worksafe).

22 clues to solve, and/or devise your own clue for others to solve (I'll add any good ones to the main document later).

One answer each until noon, please, then you can have another guess.

Feel free to print it off for your own FOTCR™ events - I stole it from the Nice Ladies FOTCR™ Party after all :)

Thought for the day

He person who seeks all their applause from outside has their happiness in another's keeping .

- Claudius Claudianus

Clear as mud

I'm beginning to worry, because other people are worried about me.

Last weekend Chief Bui1der was here finishing off things that should have been finished months ago (it really *wasn't* my fault that he cut his knuckle so badly on a knife blade that he ended up in A&E needing 5 stitches - I only *thought* the retaliation-for-delays-beyond-reasonable-excuse spell, I never actually *did* it ;)).

He had amassed quite a pile of filler and sealant pull-outs (what do you call those long strips of silicone sealant that pull off from round the edges?) before asking me where they should go. "Well, in the bin, of course!" I said. "Erm, yes, but... which bin?" "In the landfill bin, the bin of last resort when you really can't reuse or recycle something!" "Erm, yes, but, BW, I can see all these bins you have, but I can't quite work out the system..."

In the Studio there are two canvas boxes filled with wood offcuts from the Giant Jenga Game in the drive (once the old rafters and floorboards, now cut up to woodburner size lumps), one medium-sized bin for envelopes with addresses on and other art-paper scraps that can be used for firelighting, one large bin for textile offcuts and beyond-further-wear/use old clothes for recycling, another medium sized bin for paper and card recycling, a pot for pencil sharpenings, plant leaves that have fallen off, tea bags I may have accidentally left in cups of tea before drinking, and other organic matter, that can go out to the compost heap, and a medium sized bin lined with a plastic carrier bag that is for anything that has to go in the bin bin (ie landfill), such as Mr BW's tiny shards of offcut glass and plastic wrappings (*continues spell for plastic packaging reduction*). That's not complicated, surely?

In the car I have two plastic carrier bags looped over the gearstick. One for recyclables (eg drink boxes, used shopping lists, car park tickets), and one for the bin bin (plastic straws from drink boxes, plastic packaging, tissues - although I do try to take them out and compost them - etc etc).

In the kitchen there is a bowl for organic matter and tissues on their way out to the compost heap, a bowl for eggshells on their way into the Aga for crisping up prior to being lightly crushed into slug deterrent, a swing bin for landfill, and behind that a large box for recyclables. In the utility is a clear plastic sack for aluminium recycling, and another swing bin for glass. The latter always accumulates more than any of the others. "Yes, of course we've had a party!" I always say when people at the recycling bank remark on what a lot of bottles I'm depositing. "Hick!"

But why is that all so extraordinary? We've been doing it for years. It certainly takes no extra time at all.

Today Cleaner BW was about to vacuum the bathroom (currently still in a state of plastered wall-ness rather than tiled shower-ness) with the old Dyson. "No!" I shouted, "You're not supposed to do that! Its hose and cyclone will get clogged with plaster again!" "Can I have a definitive guide then," she requested, " to what it is that I can do with each vacuum?" "It's easy," I said, "Dirty dirt like plaster and cement dust in the old Panasonic, the one that usually lives in the workshop, that Mr BW uses to clean the cars and the workshop floor. Upstairs dirt from the Studio and my Inner Coven in the Old Turquoise Dyson that lives in the Studio - only you mustn't empty that one into the compost as there will be fragments of glass in it that I don't want back on the garden when the rest of it has rotted down. Which leaves the clean dust and dirt from downstairs for the New Grey Dyson, and that should be emptied into the compost bucket outside the back door. Unless you're going up to the Orchard to see the hens, in which case you can empty it straight onto the main compost heaps." "Oh," she said, "oh. I think I may have to bring my own vacuum cleaner, then I'll only have to worry about sucking the stuff up the nozzle!"

But... but... it's all so obvious and simple isn't it?
I have absolutely no idea why they are all struggling.

Thought for the day

I am always doing things I can’t do, that’s how I get to do them.

- Pablo Picasso

Thought for the day

It would help us all if the media weren't all drafted by twenty-somethings with no experience of the world and no capacity for critical thought, and controlled by people with a vested interest in the truth remaining obscured. Sadly though, journalism has been downgraded in status as an occupation to something akin to glorified streetsweeping.

- e

See also here and here.
What worries me is that most people don't have the ability to see through it and believe every word they're fed.

Look, it's only 16.2 watts per hour, and Mr BW loves it...

Inside, where there is increasing evidence that misguided people have been well-guided in their choice of festive gift... and outside, where there are thousands of lights reflecting in the ba1cony glass, bouncing back off the windows and re-reflecting in the glass. It's just like a kaleidoscope.

Oh Tannenbaum

My anti-FOTCR™ spells are proving effective.

Most effective.

*cackles evily*

Good Friend BW has fallen and broken the top of her dominant arm, so rendering her incapable of most things, including getting to the shops to stock up on unnecessary items. She has also given away her FOTCR™ tree and all her ornaments to a single dad she knows whose wife ran off with her boss three weeks ago, clearing almost everything from their home, and leaving a note to say that she wanted no further contact with any of them.

I'll admit that those spells could have been a bit tighter and neater (not least because it's left me doing Good Friend BW's shopping etc), but, hey ho ;)

Almost none of the multitude of FOTCR™ cards that have arrived at The Coven have the usual boring badly-printed inserts proving that their life is much less interesting and certainly more humourless than ours. Either that's a highly successful spell, or our aquaintances have been reading BW on the sly and know my thoughts on said epistles.

And I might be winning a long-running battle with Mr BW called To Tree or Not to Tree?

We are having to have our lounge ceiling re-skimmed again in the middle of next week (Chief Bui1der agreed that the patch repair of the crack caused by the construction work was totally aesthetically unacceptable - largely, I suspect, because he thought we might pay him some of the outstanding money if he co-operated a bit), which will involve emptying out the 26' long room and not refilling it until after it's replastered and repainted, probably on FOTCR™ Day, while everyone else is stuffing their faces, drinking themsleves into more silliness than normal, and producing more unrecyclable rubbish than the planet can cope with.

Therefore, there is no place for a FOTCR™ tree in its normal position.
What a shame.
Sadly Mr BW is about 3 years behind me in disdain and contempt of the annual feast that means nothing, except to retailers and the odd person who still believes in fairy tales.

So... we briefly considered putting a tree of the size we normally have ( ie height of BW plus a couple of inches) up in the new Studio, as we spend most of our time up there anyway, but decided that when the BW Blue Altar is alight, it is too hot for it, and anyway, it would be in the way of our artful craftiness.

So, we bought an unusual pot-grown-locally tree that is about 2 foot, plus pot, high, and that has been placed on the balcony outside the Studio (where there are also other pots). Out of sight, out of mind. On Twelfth Night it can go down in The Coven Orchard, where its pot can be buried in the ground and it can be left to fend for itself until next year. By then it will be another foot taller, and have made even more of a contribution to the Save The Planet Campaign that the 'Government' have recently adopted... only 20 years after I did.

Now, I'm wondering if I can get away with just the tree, or whether it has to have all the kitsch paraphernalia that people consider necessary to beautify green fir-y-ness in the name of, well, whatever you believe in (Jesus or Over-Consumption and Commercialism).

Maybe I'll take recycling to the nth degree and make baubles from old photos like this. And tealights in jam jars might do instead of LED outdoor lights which are horrendously expensive, even if you can still find them.

And, in the ever-overlapping Venn Diagram world that is Blogland, last night I stumbled upon someone who hates this time of year as much as I do. Hurrah!

Lifetimes

I'm still trying to get my head round creating a post based on a thought from the programme about the story of the development of the world wide web and the ways in which its users are changing Western culture that was on TV the other night.

I can't pull all the elements together in my mind, so I'm just going to start and see where it goes...

I think it was the juxtaposition of the beginnings of punk with the development of the internet and blogging in that programme that particularly caught my interest. I'm not entirely sure how the idea came about, and I don't think it was developed, but, having been an early-taker, even if not in the absolute vanguard, of both [what? innovations? movements? expressions? cults? distractions?], there are certain similiarities - and both diversified and developed in ways with which I am not entirely comfortable.

"As the power of mass media waxes and wanes, the presenter delves into the origins of the web and meets the people who are part of the creative powerhouse it now represents.

The journey begins with an encounter with the web's inventor, Tim Berners-Lee. Berners-Lee made the web free to use and never viewed it as a money-making scheme. In many ways, that spirit has percolated down to today's web users; even if they don't know it, they're the guardians of a state of mind. The ethos of free sharing, for example."

All that is good.

But, commercialism and competition crept in to spoil it.

Just as it did with punk.

And I never bought into any of that, because it's against my basic personal values and belief in what is important (sustainability, people, experiences and principles, not things, acquisitiveness and personal wealth and individual fame).

The early energy, and sincerity, and experimentation, disappeared somewhere along the way from blogging just as it did from punk. The early heady years were fun, and there was a shared ethos and interaction and a raw excitement and expectation.

And then ads appeared on blogs, and some even became pay-blogs, and many people began to see blogging as a way into something else, or (perhaps unconsciously) as an ego-trip, which fed the unfulfilled parts of their psyches. Audio-blogs then video-blogs came along, removing a lot of the delicious scope for imagination. Suddenly there were more non-bloggers than bloggers reading, and the inter-blog linkages that were once the lifeblood of the medium all but disappeared. And a sort-of cliqueness developed in lots of places, and with it an expectation from some that one should respond to every comment, which I only saw as an extension of the banality of conversation that goes on between people who don't know each other very well and are just trying to be polite.

The early excitement and interconnectivity is gone from blogging; most of my early blog buddies have long-ago given up, or now post only infrequently. The raw energy, fun and creativity have gone, and my grey matter is much less stimulated. Thankfully I'm still in touch with a few of the early inhabitants of blogland, in the more real world, so in the words of The Eagles, "it wasn't really wasted time".

I laughed when I saw Twitter. Talk about reinventing what has been lost!

Maybe it's just that I get bored without a good supply of others of similar mind for symbiosis.

I was looking back through my archive for something the other day, and came across a post from 26 months ago (the link is being temperamental - you may need to scroll down to the 1st October post near the bottom of the page). Relevant to this I think.

Of course it is all down to personality types. And when you're a 1%-er, you don't always find it easy to cope with the crowd (and blimey, there's even an blog group for us!!!).

What is your personality type?

(And has it changed since you last did the test? - although, as I've given what I think is a better link this time, you may need to redo the original test from the original link in the original post to be 100% sure that differences are in fact changes over time and not just inter-test variance.)

Thought for the day

A cynic is an idealist who has been 'happy slapped' by reality.

- This one is non-attributable as it came from an anonymous person on an email list

And today I thought I might write a few words of my own...

This morning, finally, Chief Bui1der is here sorting out all the odds that we've been chasing him since about August to finish off. The FOTCR™ is coming and no doubt his extravagant wife has spent all his money on unnecessary tat that no-one will either want or appreciate, so he thought he'd get round to finishing our job off so we'd pay the last "5% on satisfaction".

Needless to say, it's not likely I'm going to be satisfied, even if I am ;) 34 weeks to complete a 12-14 week project is just not acceptable. They're only little niggly things (eg the loo flush sticking in - big job as it's a concealed cistern, the guttering not draining properly, a slat on the fan being stuck open letting cold air stream into the shower-room etc etc), and he has been incapacitated (never annoy a Witch who does wonky spells), but, that is just ever so slightly taking the proverbial.

Now, I have a question for the gadget lovers amongst you. What would you think of a USB-powered thing mini-hotplate designed to stand cups of tea or coffee on to keep them warm?

Mr BW thinks that you deserve something new to read, so he's written it...

Thank heavens for those amongst 'us' who pay silly prices which give the rest of us the opportunity to bargain down.

As I pulled in to the car park this morning, our Print Department Manager parked alongside me in the same type of car.

'Nice cars aren't they?' says I.

'Oh yes!' says he.

'Did you get the diesel?' says I.

'Oh no,' says he, 'I got the smaller petrol version because the salesman said it was better.'

'Got a good deal!' says he. 'We had to pick a high spec car to start with because of the metallic colour we wanted, but then I didn't like the colour so we got a red one at the same price.'

(alarm bells started ringing, downgrade from high spec with metallic to standard car and paint and pay the same hmmm).

'Got lots of extras too,' says he, 'like see round corner lights and rain detecting windscreen.'

'So you splashed out?' says I.

'Not really sure,' says he, 'I just told them how much I had to spend and asked them what I could get for the money.'

'Ah!' says I, nearly walking into the security gate, 'so they swapped the higher spec car for a cheaper standard petrol car and loaded it with every high margin full price extra they could think of to spend all of your money and make as much money from you as they possibly could?'

'Hmm,' says he, 'I didn't think of it like that. So what did you do?'

'Well,' says I, 'we did our homework on competitive prices, waited for the new competing car to come out, went to see them and told them what car we wanted, what discount we wanted, and what extras we wanted thrown in for free, we negotiated a bit and came away happy.'

'Oh,' said he, as he disappeared through his office door, 'we weren't that lucky.'

'No,' I thought, 'and we weren't that stupid.'

Thank you Derek, for, without you, we, and, I hope, most BW readers, could never negotiate the deals we do.

(on a related note, a recent article in the Sunday Times Motoring Section concluded that small diesels, such as the Clio, are actually better for the environment than hybrid cars - can't find a link, but that was the gist of it)

Reality TV too far?

I'm currently getting one of two requests a day for my involvement with some media project or other. In the past, I got perhaps one or two a month, and most requests were targeted requests, by telephone, and from people who'd already done some research and thought about what they wanted. Now, more and more, requests are by email, and clearly part of a general trawl.

I have a blanket answer to all requests. "No."

I learnt my lesson about getting involved in such projects 6 years ago. I didn't enjoy watching the commissioning party manipulating my results to suit their purpose (ie totally ignoring them in favour of how they'd already decided they would spin the story), and pulled out of the Breakfast TV and national radio presentation in protest. Three quarters of the fee I was to be paid was for the day of media appearances, so, once I had paid my team of researchers, I didn't actually have any money at all left over (and it involved hundreds of hours of my work), but, I have strong principles, and I was not prepared to compromise my professional integrity, in the way that was being demanded, for a few thousand pounds.

Yesterday I received yet another one of these emails from a TV production company (Mr BW informs me it is one of the biggest) that disturbed me a lot. I've reproduced it in the Google-protected comments, rather than here, for reasons that I hope will be obvious.

I'd be interested in your reactions (positive or negative).

Thought for the day

Couldn't our money squandered in Iraq have been put to better use?

See also 2003, 2004, and 2005