Blue Witch

Update

Still madly busy trying to sort out the mess that is the contents of one Witchy Bedroom distributed over the entirety of The Coven while it was repainted, recarpeted, recurtained and re-lit.

I now remember why I rarely completely change colour schemes in rooms. Usually a lick of the same colour paint every few years and a bit of touching-up in between suffices. It's just such hard work finding everything you want, then taking half of it back because it is either badly made or not quite right. The Coven bedroom has been sort of pinky and creamy and greeny for 14 years and a change to hen-egg blue/sea-green and white (which appear to be 'in' colours at present, even though I had no idea of that when I decided on the new colour scheme) has involved more effort and energy than I have.

And you've got to love Dyson. I know I've said it before, but I'll keep saying it while they keep surpassing my expectations. Mr BW disobeyed all the Witchy rules and used the newest silver one (rather than the older Studio blue one, or the Workshop very old white Panasonic) to clear up the plastery mess from where he had to groove the wall to hide the cables for the new wall lights (too many accidents recently involving tea or wine and table lamps/lampshades on bedside tables, we're getting old and shaky). Despite being old plaster, so completely dry, this completely blocked a goodly proportion of the tiny holes in the cyclone, which stubbornly refuse to be unclogged. Probably no bad thing given that at least half of the new carpet is already on the compost heap, via the Dyson clear bin, but, that's shedding on new wool carpets for you.

So, I rang Dyson, fully expecting them to say, in the circumstances, that I either had to buy a new cyclone or pay for an engineer visit (now £63.62 including VAT, all parts, labour and even new filters - most companies charge more than that for just a call-out). But, as machines have a 5 year warranty, and it is not quite three, they will send me a new cyclone unit for free, and if that doesn't solve the problem, an engineer will visit, again free of charge, at my convenience next week.

Probably about time my fortune changed, given that the power switch on my main PC has gone wrong - after just 14 months. I do have a 3 year guarantee on it, but apparently it takes at least 10 working days to send one out for self-fitting (and you practically have to fax them your competent person's professional qualification certificates for them to allow that), or up to 6 weeks if they collect the machine for repair. I've long suspected that that would be the case, and, as soon as I can get the power on, so enabling the printer (I CBA to find the necessary cable and download the necessary drivers onto another netbook or laptop) I shall be writing a strong letter to the Aldi computer buyer on said subject. 'Free' 3 year warranties are only a selling point if the level of back-up and support to be provided to customers is actually negotiated appropriately.

And the five little cheepers (now a week old) are changing shape. Their necks are growing and they are getting feathers on their wings. Can't easily post pictures due to the power switch problem, and the card reader needed to download photos to the netbook being lost in the piles of debris scattered liberally around, so you'll just have to imagine last week's pictures with the added growth.

And we won't mention the carpet fitter who turned up 3 hours late, unwashed and unshaven, because he had a hangover and couldn't get out of bed, with the excuse, "There was a power cut in my flat so my alarm didn't wake me." We almost missed Nan Mr BW's 96th birthday celebration because of him.

And we also won't mention the taxi driver who was supposed to pick Mr BW up at 7.00am on Sunday morning to go to the airport but apparently couldn't use a sat-nav, a map, a radio, or a phone, and just thought he'd find us by driving about for long enough.

Back to the sorting out... bunny-stylee. A bit here, eye caught by something else/the doorbell/a phone call/remembering something urgent that just has to be done right now, hop off to do another bit somewhere else...

Thought for the day

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

- Margaret Mead

"I am your Lady and you are my Man"

15 years ago today an event occured that I never expected to happen.

I never expected it to happen because I never thought I'd meet a man who would so complement me, and bring out the best in me, that I would want to give up my feedom and independence, and spend the rest of my life with him. But, I did, and everything that he promised me on that day, he has done. And so very much more.

I believe that very few people in this world ever find their perfect soulmate. Someone who loves them, respects them and supports them, unconditionally. Someone with whom they can talk, someone who can understand, yet challenge; someone who can brighten the light, but also make the world seem bearable when it doesn't feel it will ever be.

I am one of the lucky ones. Thank you Mr BW. For everything.

The whispers in the morning
Of lovers sleeping tight
Are rolling by like thunder now
As I look in your eyes

I hold on to your body
And feel each move you make
Your voice is warm and tender
A love that I could not forsake

CHORUS
'Cause I am your lady
And you are my man
Whenever you reach for me
I'll do all that I can

Lost is how I'm feeling
Lying in your arms
When the world outside's too much for me to take
That all ends when I'm with you

Even though there may be times
It seems I'm far away
Never wonder where I am
'Cause I am always by your side

CHORUS

We're heading for something
Somewhere I've never been
Sometimes I am frightened
But I'm ready to learn
Of the power of love

The sound of your heart beating made it clear
Suddenly the feeling that I can't go on
Is light years away

We're heading for something
Somewhere I've never been
Sometimes I am frightened
But I'm ready to learn
Of the power of love

The Friday Question

For the first time in what seems like years (and probably is), two of our friends are getting married this summer. One couple have both been married before, and the other couple have been living together for a long time.

Both have asked for contributions to their honeymoon funds instead of a wedding present, presumably because they alreaedy have everything they want, and cannot see a life with nine toasters and fourteen kettles being fulfilling.

Talking to another friend, he too knows someone who has just got married and made the same request. Sounds like it's the latest thing.

We got to wondering about what an appropriate amount to contribute to a honeymoon fund might be, and what the variables are. What do you think?

Happy St George's Day!

We now have 5 chicks and two eggs left, which sadly show no signs of hatching.

I'm calling them all George and Georgina. Even the unhatched eggs.

Pictures of chicks will be exchanged for digital images of the England Flag flying in a location near you today. E-mail them to the usual address (nods rights). Any size, any resolution, any quality. The chicks are very cute :) To encourage Debster (because I suspect chicks don't do it for her) I also have an interesting cat picture from yesterday's outing.

Update 1.30pm: Cat has kindly taken a photo of some England Flags seen during her lunchtime in N0ttingham:

Luckily it wasn't at T£$co's, so you get 2 chick pics:

I have lots more if I get more photos of England Flags flying in locations near you today...

(Mummy Hen is now out in the sunshine with all five Buff 0rpingt0n babies. I had to frisk Cleaner BW, and Nice Lady also very Pissed Off by the Current Goings On who dropped round for a moan, before they left, as they each wanted to take one home...)

Clucking

I like problem solving. It's something I can do well. I've just managed to permutate eight different sets of requirements into a summer term timetable. It took a total of 19 different phone calls, emails and face-to-face conversations over the past two weeks, and several people being very flexible and changing their own arrangements.

The person who I'd done all this to accommodate said, when I told her I'd managed to give her the slot she wanted on Wednesday, "Oh, Monday would suit us better now..." The phrase "Take it or leave it!" sprang into my mind. Instead I forced a smile and said into the telephone, "Well, it's taken me a lot of work to arrange this, and I'm afraid I'm not prepared to mess the other seven people around again, so I presume you'll now stay on my waiting list until September?" Never has their been such fast back-tracking by an ungrateful. Ha!

Today I am off to Das Kapital for the first time in probably two years. On a coach (I hate coaches, but there's no way I could manage to venture into the centre other than by car at present, and that's not economically or logistically viable). At the taxpayer's expense. That's me, and probably you, of course. I recently secured a governmint grant of £5,000 for the Nice Ladies to complete a local texti1e project, involving passing on skills to skill-less people, as well as preserving our local heritage for the future. We're off to see a museum curator behind the scenes in South Kensington about the logistics. But, there is An Issue going on about this project which is really frustrating me. I worked so hard to get all the funding (with Mr BW's help), and now certain Nice Ladies (who do not usually go on power trips) are on power trips, and others are stirring. It's like a kids' playground watching them posturing for roles in the project. I managed to persuade someone I know to be the external project co-ordinator (and she's amazing, both in her teaching and design abilities), but she's so upset by how two of them behaved in her presence last week that she's now telling me she won't undertake the role after all. In fact, I too may pull out of it after today's trip because I preserve my fragile sanity by walking away rather than banging my head against a wall in such situations these days. We will see.

I wish I wasn't going out today because my eggs are hatching!

Right on cue, 21 days after putting eggs under hen, last night Bossy Broody was even more Bossy and Broody than normal (not that being broody for nearly 9 weeks - or three gestation periods - is normal, but).

We saw two eggs cracking:

But sadly, also one clearly dead one.

Which, after a post-mortem, seemed to be in exatly the same state (ie over-cooked) as the silkies from Failed Batch One several years ago. That was probably the only hen in the clutch mind...

Hopefully by the time I get back this evening, we will have chicks. Third time lucky. I haven't hatched chicks since an incubator did it when I was in Mr Mack's class in 1971 or 72.

We've put stones in the water so the chicks don't drown, and mashed up some layers' pellets in the food processor. Mr BW and I had a bit of a communication error over who was meant to be getting the chick crumbs and it's food processed layers' pellets or starve. Not ideal, but the chicks are more likely to die of hunger than to die from the wrong sort of food for the first 6 hours of their lives, particularly as they're still finishing off their eggy breakfasts when they first hatch.

There just aren't enough hours in the day

...to write what I want to, and we're still camping at night (but I've just been rung to say the new curtains which were on a 4 week order due to my Advanced and Exacting Witchy Specifications are already ready, and can be delivered tomorrow, only 11 days after ordering, which I think is most impressive), so here are some current pictures.

The 2009 anvil spring flowers colourway:

The 2009 pond spring flowers colourway:

Woo1 dyed with food co1ouring at Saturday's Rotating, In-And-Out, Colourful Gui1d Meeting. I always knew I kept those disgusting artificial colours from the 80s, that I'd never allow anywhere near our food now, for a reason (red and blue mixed on the left, blue and yellow mixed on the right):

Instructions: Soak a smallish quantity of f1eece or yarn or even knitted garment in vinegar (any old vinegar will do I've discovered, no need to buy the expensive white stuff) for half an hour (this makes the colours fast to light and washing), squeeze out gently, place on a bit of cling wrap, drip on various different food co1ourings (or pre-mix, or just use one colour, but that's not as exciting as seeing what you'll get by dripping), and squidge about a bit with gloved fingers, wrap the cling-wrap round the woo1, then steam (an old metal colander above an old pan of water works well) for 20-30 minutes, rinse until the water runs clear, then squeeze gently and dry.

Weekends are made for this

Spent the weekend camping, but without having to go anywhere, and without having to leave my beloved bed behind (the best purchase we've ever made, according to me).

I love camping, but we haven't been for years because airbeds make me seasick and these days the physical effects of having to sleep on a Karrimat on the floor would render me totally immobile for days.

I brewed up all sorts of concoctions from nettles, ivy berries, and even reused the tea-bags, in an old-fashioned big billy-can. On the Aga. And the pot was every bit as difficult to clean as it was at the end of Guide camp back in the 70s.

The best bit of camping is to wake up in the night all snuggly warm from the sleeping bag/duvet, but with a cold face and a freezing nose tip, that can smell the cool nocturnal air. And waking to the dawn chorus, which began this morning at 4.53am, and was in full twitter by 5.15am.

Mr BW painted the bedroom, you see, and I had woo1 to dye. We could have slept in another room, but it was easier just to open the windows (which are nearly 6 feet wide) fully. We always sleep with the window slightly open anyway, even in the depths of winter, but, with no curtains, and little other furniture or the usual clutter, if felt just like camping. The smells of my natura1 dyes just added to the ambience. Well, they added something. I'm not entirely sure what.

I'm totally in love with the new colourway (after 13 years of the old one - repainted in the same colours several times though), and can't wait until the new carpet and curtains arrive. Cascade below the dado rail and wrapover white over the upper wall and ceiling. I love wrapover ceilings/walls. It's the second time we've done it and it just makes the room look huge and removes all the rigid square edges. The colour looks so different in the different lights of the day: greyish duck-egg in the evening to blue-tinged sea-green in the morning. Magic.

[In finding the paint colour link I've discovered that ordering paint samples direct from the manufacturer is much cheaper than buying matchpots - up to 5 samples from Crown for £2.49, including postage. If only I'd known...]

The Friday Question

The Apprentice.

Love it, hate it, or ignore it?

Me, I find it a fascinating insight into the worst aspects of ''young ambition" and how bad most people are at task-analysis and planning, costings and financial management, and working amicably with other people. A study of behaviour in the naughties. Or maybe I mean noughties, I'm unsure.

Given that Alan Sugar sold Amstrad to BSkyB in the summer of 2007, I'm not clear exactly what the winner will now do? Work within his property empire?

Have you heard Terry Wogan's name for Alan Sugar? Sir Sid James. That thought is all that keeps me going while Mr BW is watching that awful programme. So staged for TV, as was very apparent this week. If one wants h0ney one does not buy a b33suit and go to a h1ve to find it. And, having made lots of s0ap over the past few months, I'm unconvinced that even commercially processed stuff full of synthetic chemical nastiness can be made one day and sold the next. It takes time for the sap0nification process to work, and the soap to cure.

I think that my biggest dislike is that I can't bear to see people being so disrespectful of each other, putting each other down and back-stabbing.

Found in an office near you?

Brief current ponderances

I am currently being amused by the number of one-time/lapsed bloggers hanging around sundry comment boxes giving out little pieces of catch-up information about this and that. Four I've spotted this week already. Is this a new fad? Or maybe I'm overly interested in comments boxes...

I did Biggest Kitten Familar an injustice when I said he wouldn't have been able to catch his own white fluffy baby bunny dinner last Sunday. Yesterday afternoon he provided himself with a beige fluffy baby bunny dinner. Sadly, this time, I didn't see in time. Bunny was minus a head by the time I got to them, and I resisted my urge to ring the RSPCA and reframed the incident as Value self-service cat food. Every last morsel scoffed, the contented Familiar then basked in the late afternoon sun. If my Familiars eat all the tame bunnies not being properly cared for, the errant owner will learn the hard way. At the end of the day, the only difference between tame and wild bunnies is the length of their fur. Why should I care about the tame ones any more than the wild ones? They'll all breed unstoppably and eat our veg if not contained!

Is anyone else scared of going into their local towns during this school holiday period? There were 8 police and CSOs highly visible (but doing absolutely nothing other than being highly visible in their hi-vis jackets) in Small Local Town yesterday afternoon (usually, one, or possibly two on a market day, might be found skulking in a cafe somewhere), and hordes of overly-made-up, spitty, sweary, drinking from cans of beer and lager, fighty, smoking just-teenagers. intimidating, obstructing, loitering or climbing on public buildings and signs, and completely out-of-control. What of their parents? I dread to think where this ends.

How old (or young, depending how you look at it) would you expect a child to be before they know their address and home telephone number?

Thought for the day

Nine-tenths of wisdom is being wise in time.

- Theodore Roosevelt

Dyeing in the gutter, and other crafty pursuits

For the crafty amongst you, in case you don't already know about them, there are three free online workshops, starting on Wednesday, and running for two weeks. You don't even need to register to get details and take part.

These are being run in this format for the first time by the Rotating, In and Out, Colourful Ladies (well, I think there are a few men, but not in the one I go to).

There is one workshop for dye1ng, one for weav1ng and one for sp1nning designer yarns, each run by an expert in the craft. The idea is that you participate and post images of how you're getting on, and any questions, but, if you're like me and don't have two weeks to dedicate to one thing, you can just download the instructions and file them away for use as and when.

And for anyone who fancies free vegetable seeds, and doesn't already know, the BBC's DigIn campaign (being run by Gardeners' World - thank goodness for a proper presenter again, the Spirit of Geoff lives on, although it's taken a couple of regenerations to get there - and in other BBC kiddies and cooking places) might still have a few packets left. Although why they wanted to give away quite the selction they are, I cannot imagine. In our experience, butternut squash are one of the hardest squashes/pumpkins to grow, and give very little yield compared to, for example, custard squashes or courgettes. And, given that they are asking whether one is a novice, experienced, or expert gardener on the application form, I think the results of that little study may not be reliable or valid... who's going to put 'expert' if they want free seeds, given that the number of free packets is limited? Not me, for sure. (Update: hmmm, just checking that link, they've changed the question since yesterday...)

My spell to get everyone growing at least lettuce seems to be taking a new turn, doesn't it? Although I was dismayed to see one packet of lettuce seed, one plastic tray (the sort large packs of mushrooms come in), a little bag of compost, and a large amount of packaging, for £4.99 in a garden centre last week. You could have bought the whole lot for well under a pound if you knew where to go...

White bunny day

I always think of the first of every month as 'White Bunny Day'. Yesterday may not have been the first of the month, but it was, in a The Universe Speaks to You In A Timely Way, White Bunny Day.

Just as it was getting dark last night, around 8pm, we were both in the bedroom: me having a quick rest before dinner as we'd been very busy outside for most of the day, and Mr BW setting something to record from the TV.

As Mr BW turned to go out of the room, his eye was caught by something outside the window. "Oh no, he's got a bunny - a white bunny!" he exclaimed and ran for the back door. "Eh, what?" I muttered, and creaked my way off the bed and across to the window to see who had a white bunny. I thought he meant the farmer behind us, who is frequently to be seen walking along by the hedge carrying a few dead bunnies that he's trapped and shot as he is convinced that they were responsible for the poor germination of his wheat crop (personally I think it had something to do with the concentration of a very unenvironmentally friendly cadmium yellow powder that one of his operatives sprayed on a while back, but I need to stay on good terms with him for the sake of the Buzzy Stripey Familiars, so I haven't voiced this theory).

But, there was Biggest Kitten Familiar by the workshop door, standing guard over a tiny white fluffy bunny. I distracted him from his carrying into his house role by talking to him, just long enough for Mr BW to get there and rescue the adorable bundle of fluff.

It seemed shocked, but unharmed, other than a bit of dribble round the scruff of its neck, where probably The Tabby Familiar had brought it back from wherever she found it (we doubt that The Kitten Familiars, being boys, would have known how to carry a baby bunny, and would have just played with it).

We were convinced it was a child's easter bunny that had escaped. Mr BW left it with me and went off around the local-ish houses known to have children (all two of them).

Alas no owner could be found, so this morning we're going to drop notes through the twenty or so houses within a half mile radius of us. Much as I adore it (it's a cross between the long-haired Ginger Familiar who was killed on the road three and a half years ago, and my childhood white rabbit pet who inconsiderately died on my first weekend at secondary school 30-odd years ago), Familars have to be independent and useful, and it is neither (although it is fluffy enough to be an angora, so maybe could produce fur for sp1nning and other texti1e work?).

In the meantime, it's safe in the hen/cat box, eating us out of carrots, cabbage and lettuce. Definitely none the worse for its adverture yesterday evening.

Here's one I noticed yesterday afternoon as I sat in the herb garden area planting seeds:

Yes, we crucify apple trees. A couple of months ago though.

And for those old-timers who've not already noticed, I'm delighted to see that he's finally making an honest woman of her. Even if the blog name changes more frequently than the posts ;) Maybe they'd like the white fluffy bunny as a wedding present if we can't find its owner? My dog would love that I'm sure :)

Happy [insert seasonal favourite word of choice]!

The [insert seasonal favourite word of choice] eggs...

... are under the now-broody for 7 weeks [insert seasonal favourite word of choice] hen...

... because I empathised with her confused hormonal state and believe that nature should run its course rather than be artificially constrained. As far as I know, we don't put teenage girls or menopausal women in small boxes with wire floors, or dip their nether regions in cold water, so I treat my familiars with similar respect, and, when I finally managed to track down some fertile eggs locally (not having a cock myself), I let her have her moody sitty way.

The [insert seasonal favourite word of choice] chicks will be at least 9 days more before emerging though. 3rd time lucky with the hatching malarkey, hopefully.

And for added Value, here's a snippet of The Coven Grounds. With added kitten, for added D-Appeal.

You have no idea how long I had to wait to get that picture, and how near my latest batch of home-made soap was to setting in the pouring jug when I spotted it through the kitchen window at the time-critical moment, and nipped out to get it.

The Friday Question

With the long bank holiday weekend upon us (religion has its uses occasionally), and spring in the air, people's thoughts turn to....

Erm, decorating.

We have 34 jobs on our list for this weekend. Only a couple of them 5 mnute jobs. I love lists because they remove all the stress of having to remember things from my life, and make ordering and prioritising so easy. But 34 jobs? I told Mr BW (star of many local newspaper inches around the country this weekend, but that's not a story I can go into here *nods downwards a post, do read, it's important* although his efforts did warrant a special Ferrero Yuck Yuck yuck Rocher over-packaged easter egg from his boss) who went a weird shade of blue when he saw it, that it was a list for all the bank holidays this year, but I may have lied.

As I type from my bed (getting strength up before I get up to tackle the list), I can see 14 litres of various kinds of paint. 7.5 are going back because they were large pots of the possible choices in match pots, and, at 15% off, and to save travelling miles, it was the easiest way. But the rest require spreading thinly over the bedroom walls, ceiling, wardrobe floor, garage door, radiator, and various other places.

I may be a Green Blue Witch, but eco-paint doesn't appeal to me. I want something that will be easily available, do the job, and last for years. Oh, and for the same colour to still be available, to mix, twenty years down the line if I need. I often feel that so-called greener products are actually less green when one looks at all the variables (price, transport of raw materials and finished product distribution, expected lifespan etc etc).

I've always liked Dulux because, when I was a Small Witch, my parents had a friend who was Dulux's chief paint formulator chemist, and I liked him enormously. His pipe and metal shirt arm bands (what were they called?) always fascinated me. Every time I buy a pot I know I'm helping to pay his pension.

What brand of paint do you like best? And what are you painting this weekend?

And please do read the next post down after you've replied.

Big Brother Snoops Again

I thought that the Governmint's plan to store details of UK residents' surfing, emails and phone calls was a dead duck.

Unfortunately not.

As of today, EU legislation that has passed into UK law 'on the nod', without debate in Parlaiment, means that your ISP has to store details of your internet usage for a year. And what's more, we the taxpayer are paying them huge money to do so. Do you think that any of the other EU countries have rolled over and unquestionningly played ball the way we always do in the UK?

Full story in The Register, the Telegraph, and details of how to avoid the Governmint (and local councils, quangos and other public bodies have access to the database too) knowing every minute detail of your online business here (and my thanks to the latter for bringing this gross infringement of personal liberty to my attention).

I wish it were April 1st. As it's not, I hope I'm not the only one who can see where this is leading. The world's most comprehensive surveillance system. A massive central database of email, web browsing, telephone and social networking data, catalogued by citizen. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Shop til they drop

I don't think there is a single shop at which a discount is not available this weekend. My in-box for 'companies I've dealt with in the past' (the e-addresses I use for buying online auto-sort into an inbox to which they can send follow-on marketing to their little hearts' contents, I don't often look at it) is chock-full of 10%, 15%, 20% and even 50% off coupons. Even those that don't appear to be doing deals are. Today I got £60 (25%) off a pair of custom-made velvet curtains and £42 (20%) off a new carpet, just for asking and smiling enchantingly.

I actually feel quite sorry for them. Apart from T£$co's, at whom I laugh like a drain when they get a pasting like this in the financial mass meeja. Who says my spells don't work? ;)

Cars, kittens and apostrophes...

... all in one picture.

We took Mi1dred out for her first meeting of the year (well, apart from New Year's Day) with her old friends on Sunday. The state of the roads! Her poor little thin wheels. I want to stop hearing excuses from the County Highways Department about how dreadful the weather has been, and how hard-up they are, and see some action filling in pot-holes.

Back in the late 70s or early 80s I remember that there was a campaign to 'mend a pothole with a postcard'. If they ran it again, there'd be so many postcards that they could pulp them and use them as temporary fillings.

Motorists are cash cows. It's time more of the tax-take was spent on maintaining our road infrastructure, especially in rural areas. Because otherwise it will end up like the railway network. So neglected over the years that what could/should have been minor frequent attention turns into multi-month disruption and the need for major, vastly expensive, replacement programmes.

How many train lines are on bus-replacement this bank holiday weekend? Is it any wonder people who live in towns and cities with good public transport still feel they need cars? Because, with the maintenance schedules the Powers That Be dream up, it's nigh impossible to get anywhere at weekends and public holidays without one.

I just don't know what's Great about Britain any more.

When our elderly people can't understand the doctors who are our health service's so-called specialists because they have stronger accents than a Bangalore call centre, and such a poor command of basic English grammar that they wouldn't get even the lowest grade GCSE, action is called for. I keep hearing this story over and over from older people I know. Good Friend BW, who was nearly in tears after her last doctor's appointment, because she couldn't understand most of what was being said to her, has asked, in writing, for an interpreter for her next appointment.

I'm sure you can guess whose idea that was. And who dictated the letter :) If migrants can get an interpreter provided free by the NHS because they can't be arsed to learn English, then asking for the converse must be the surest way to make a point. And she's going to take it to the local rag if she doesn't get a favourable response. I guess certain of the tabloids might be interested too...

Direct action, at an individual level. It's the future. The only future. The system doesn't work any more, so one must 'assist' it in any way one can.

When is a tabby not a tabby?

Bit tied up with my wool and lots of other fluff at the moment, and being even more exhausted than normal for the rest of the time, so here's a picture sent to me today by one of my teenage 'fans'. Rather a good likeness I thought.

And infinitely better behaved than its furry likenesses, who spend all day staring longingly at the hens, protected by their electric netting, the fish, protected by their heron netting, and the D'Oves, who just coo and flap at them. Unfortunately they don't get up early enough in the morning to chase off the colourful Peasants who seem to think that outside our bedroom window at 6am is a good time to be noisily chasing their ladies. It's a good job I'm a vegetarian...

Thought for the day

At the deepest level, the creative process and the healing process arise from a single source. When you are an artist, you are a healer; a wordless trust of the same mystery is the foundation of your work and its integrity.

- Rachel Naomi Remen

The Friday Question

Back in 1992 when Bruce's 57 Channels came out, I can distinctly remember thinking how glad I was that we only had four channels.

Now, of course, we have more than 57 channels. There's still nothin' on worth watching most of the time. And even when there is something on, it's often way after my bed-time, so Mr BW records it, either to re-recordable DVD or to VHS. HDD won't work for us as we watch TV in different locations at different times, and I don't want any more unseen waves bouncing around inside The Coven (my Witchy Powers are disturbed by them, you see), or large-scale interconnective wiring projects.

Recently a large proportion of what we've recorded has been completely unwatchable because of pixellation, or lack of audio part to what has been recorded. Clearly a signal problem, and not one due to our top quality aerial (new three years ago). Now, we live in an area where we can pick up equally well from two masts - that serving London, and that serving East Anglia. Until a couple of years ago, because of the geography round here, we were in a 'no Freeview signal' area anyway, although we were still able to pick up many digital channels.

Digital switchover happens in Anglia in 2011 and London in 2012. The power of the digital signal is supposed to be increased at that time, but I'm not holding my breath that the signal will improve.

All but one of our TVs already has either a Freeview box, or built-in Freeview. We have no intention of buying into the satellite empire; dishes are ugly and do not fit in rural areas. Watching TV on a computer is not feasible on a less-than-1 MB (because of distance from the telephone exchange) connection. I'm not interested in all the red button 'interactive' stuff.

We're constantly frustrated by the different 'lag' on the digital decoding time on different TVs (and more expensive isn't necessarily faster), meaning that if we have the same programme on in two different places at once (which we sometimes do if we're busy and doing things between rooms), the speech is like an echo.

So, as far as I'm concerned, digital TV is just a degradation in the quality of the signal, and the quality and content of the programming (cf and this).

Several times just recently the digital picture has broken up while we've been watching a programme live, so Mr BW has switched back to the equivalent analogue channel. We're always struck by how much more 'natural' the picture is in analogue, and how the colours are more subtle and less garish. Plus, with analogue, and unlike with digital, if there is a problem with the signal, the audio part of it is the last part to drop out, so it's usually still possible to understand a programme.

Today's question is, analogue or digital TV?

I'm probably the only one who'll vote for analogue, of course, because I'm betting that a goodly proportion of you haven't seen the side-by-side comparison of the two forms, or perhaps don't even have the capability to watch analogue any longer, due to your receiving equipment or the geographic area in which you live. And as for HD TV, well, sadly I no longer have the visual acuity to appreciate it, and I feel it over-cooks the image unnaturally anyway.

I'm bored

Bored and frustrated with all the people jumping on bandwagons that I've ridden all my life (when they were untrendy rather than bandwagons), and eulogising about them like they've invented them. TV programmes, magazines, the media, even blogs are full of stories of people 'forced' into new ways of thinking, doing and being, by the 'current economic climate'.

I'm talking about things like living thriftily and sustainably, and being aware of the 'costs' of things (financial, ethical and environmental), making things (be they clothes, household items, meals), shopping prudently (and being aware of terms and conditions and one's rights), avoiding certain supermarkets and using cheaper 'no frills' versions and local alternatives, including markets, respecting things and people (mending things or otherwise giving them a new lease of life rather than consigning them to landfill because they are not the latest 'fashion'; supporting and encouraging people rather than competing with them and stabbing them in the back), cultivating skills in craft and country pursuits, and being prepared to share these skills with others for nothing more than the joy of doing it, so ensuring that traditional skills that once every person knew don't die.

And the thing that's annoying me most is that one cannot get away from the capitalistic element to what could be a positive shift in perception. Manfacturers and suppliers put up the price of things that have become 'trendy' - like vegetable and flower seeds (now at least ten times the price they were ten years ago) - just because they can because of the 'laws' of supply and demand. And the people who take information and help that is freely given to them and then set up courses for other people on the same subject, at £60-£150 per day, after just a few months (and these are usually people with no background in teaching and precious little experience of the subject, just seeing an opportunity to make money). Pofiteering, plain and simple.

Whatever hot air has been talked in London this week, the point is being missed. You can't create a brave new world while the thing that people value most is money.

But, there are glimmers of hope. One here from the monthly e-newsletter from Sally Lever:

"We need a concept of wealth that encompasses much more than just material capital or money. This is where sustainable living and sustainable business become essential. We need a concept of wealth that enriches rather than impoverishes the human spirit, that inspires people to give of their best in creating it, that springs from a responsible and compassionate inclusion of the less well off and from a committed resolve to meet basic human needs. In our business lives, we also need a notion of wealth that reflects meaningful and fulfilling personal and working lives."

I don't know how this is to be achieved, mind, but I'm sure it won't be anything from the "G20 leaders $1.1tn global deal". You see, it's not all about money. We have an out-of-balance world. Unbalanced books underpinned and maintained by unbalanced and unprincipled thinking. And it's that these men don't understand.

Snake charming

I've been messing with things I shouldn't.

Heavy duty 'texti1e art' - 4rench knitted yarn stuffed with carded f1eece - with some spells to make it grow more quickly.

Last night I left it in a heap on the Coven Lounge floor.

This morning it's rearranged itself.

I'm not quite sure what to make of it.

That is, I do know what I'm making from it, it's just that I don't know what to make of it.