Blue Witch

The Second Friday Question

Mr BW and I had a lovely day out seeing old tractors and old agricultural implements at the RHS garden at Wisley yesterday. Lovely until it took us 4 hours to do the 94 miles home, thanks to the M25 between there and the Dartford Crossing.

Luckily I had the dongle and netbook in the car (I'm unstoppable now!), so I spent the time sat in the traffic sorting out useful things, like advance booking airport parking, and doing the banking I hadn't been able to do for a week thanks to Bastard Blocking Blokey. Luckily, I wasn't driving. Although things I saw people driving along doing during the drive there and back, included:

1. Talking with a mobile phone to their ear: 5 people (only 2 of them while stationary)
   
2. Texting on a mobile phone: 3 people (only one while stationary)
   
3. Applying foundation and mascara: 1 person (20mph)
   
4. Drinking from a bottle/can: 3 people (all driving at normal speed)
   
5. Reading a newspaper balanced on the steering wheel: 1 person (he was doing 50mph)
   
6. Writing on a pad of paper: 1 person (10mph)
   
7. Turning around and slapping their child three times: 1 person (20mph)

Mr BW hates traffic jams, and was already in a bit of a mood even before then as he'd had to spend five and a half hours going round the garden, and his tolerance limit of things horticultural is usually half that. But, yesterday, I had a Partner in Crime Plants, so we could happily talk Latin and cultivation.

It was great to meet one of my oldest readers, finally (that, is, longest-term - since mid-2003, according to my Witchy Powers - not oldest age-wise, although she has just had a birthday, which she celebrated with a cream tea with two pots of clotted cream, some jam and some wasps). She kindly came complete with a much sought after but unsourcable by me gift. That is a clue from recent times, for careful readers.

So, the Friday Question 2 is, who did we meet?

Another clue is, she is just as amusing and pithy in real life as in the comments, and she found and photographed the only cat at Wisley:

The First Friday Question

Good Friend BW's husband is 13 years older than her, and, sadly, has dementi@. Despite being very physically fit, healthy and mobile, he is causing significant difficulties. Knowing that she will never let him go into care, no matter how bad he gets, his son (long-term readers may recall our stay with The Mad Millionaire Musician out in the Far East back in January 2007) offered to pay for more help with household tasks for them. Her current cleaner is unable to take on more hours due to her other jobs. So far, she's been unsuccessful in finding anyone else to help (plenty of applicants but none suitable).

GFBW's biggest concern at the moment is that she can't do more than a few minutes of ironing, particularly ironing of large items, herself, due to her back problems. Now, I appreciate that her tears about having unironed bed linen weren't actually *about* the unironed bed linen at all, but it did get me thinking.

I have never ironed sheets or duvet covers. Not in all my life. Not even now when we only have cotton bed linen. We do iron pillow cases (note the Royal 'We', which usually isn't me :)), because they're the only bit that I think makes a jot of difference after an hour or so in bed.

The First Friday Question this week, then, is, do you iron bed linen?

For Debster (and anyone else who likes these things)

Pointy Velcro Claws, the Dark Tabby Familiar, mother to our other two Naughty Boys, was very fat until the weekend, when she suddenly stopped being very fat. She'd seemed a bit pregnant for a few weeks, and we assumed she'd miscarried them, then scoffed them, as she's done before. She's been around as much as normal, since then, and seemed OK, and didn't have bulgy nipples, so we assumed all was OK.

Last night Mr BW was playing with Mi1dred's innards when he heard a strange noise. At first he thought it was the carrying sound of the neighbourhood brats who haven't yet learned that people choose to live in the country for peace and quiet, so shouting and screaming at all hours isn't on.

Then he realised it was coming from the table tennis table stored on the rafters above his workbench. On closer examination he found:

There were three. Obviously a few days old as their eyes were open. One was discarded, dead (looked OK, but dead nonetheless), and joined the rest of the ex-Coven Familiars in The Coven Graveyard (aka the orchard). This one he put back over the bar in the table, next to PVC, and it started suckling. He couldn't actually reach PVC or the other one.

Sadly tonight this one is also dead. So, Debster, if you'd like a kitten... we can bring it along tomorrow. Maybe you could get it stuffed? I do know a good taxidermist... ;)

Stalk Stalk

And judging by this article, I think I'm glad that I am now donglefied...

Dongling

So, I now have a dongle. Many thanks to Ron for the idea.

It appears to be giving me 7.2MB, just as it says on the box. Which is four times as fast as the fastest broadband speed I've ever had here. It's scary how much time I must waste waiting for pages to fully load normally. And 7.2 times as fast as that I am currently getting, despite at least 10 hours on phone to the ISP over the past 8 days, and an immeasurable amount of stress. You cannot work from home, live miles from an alternative internet connection, run all your bills and finances online and function without the internet, these days. And we won't mention the half a tank of fuel used in the past week driving around the countryside dropping off and collecting things that would otherwise go by email attachment, and begging netbook hook-ups to friends' routers.

It did take nearly 2 hours to set up, including 45 minutes on the phone to Mr BW, getting him to use his work PC to set up the required T-Mobile account and then top it up. You see, until you have given them some dosh, they only let you onto their home page, and, of course, when you try to top up, you're sent off to a bank page to authorise your payment card, and, of course, it won't let you see that, so you can't top up, so you can't access the internet.

So - I'd suggest that if you have a dongle for emergency use (and, if you rely on the internet and not having connection would be a huge inconvenience, do get one - between £20 and £25, depending where you go, top up £2 and get the first 30 days free. Afterwards, £2 per day you use it, or £7 per week, or £15 per month, unlimited download) you set it up right now. And don't forget that you need to hit 'connect' on the top left of the dashboard that pops up. Or you'll sit staring at it for 20 minutes, thinking it isn't working, despite the blue light being on, like I did.

So, £15 a month for unlimited 7.2MB broadband. In short, £3.48 cheaper than the £18.48 I am currently paying for no service at all (which has an - albeit currently unenforced- 2GB per month cap). I have just struck a deal with TT (ha, I got lucky and got routed to England!) that, let's say, does not leave me out of pocket. It also doesn't make me any money, but, judging by what I got before, I did well this time.

Frankly, had I known that dongles were now so cheap and so fast, and worked so well *touches wood* (it's plugged into a USB extension hub, under the desk, by a filing cabinet, next to a radiator) I'd have got one ages ago.

Smartphones drive me mad, as I see no point to them. Phones are for talking on, and the very occasional text message when its not possible to talk to someone. I don't want to play silly games on them. There are much better tools for most things than those provided or downloaded on phones. My eyesight is too poor to be able to read the small screens, and Mr BW will tell you how long it took him to fish his work-supplied one out of the pond where I threw it last night, ricocheting it off the house wall, in frustration at the slowness, the tiny keyboard, and the inability of companies to provide websites that work on them. Banks particularly. But, I *can* see the point of portable internet, in a sensible, fast, usable form, and, as I have two netbooks, I can always have one with me in the car when I'm out.

One problem that I'd like some advice on, from those of you who know - and I'm not at all sure this can be resolved, as this is a problem I always have when not using my own connection - I cannot send email (I believe that trying to use your ISP's server to send mail via another ISP's connection is deemed as 'relaying', so is blocked). Which is a complete pain. I use 17 different email addresses, from 6 separate accounts. I use OE to download it from the TT mail servers (POP3 down, SMTP up). The TT webmail interface is a complete pain, and I cannot anyway send from it using my usual email addresses (which are mail forwards form various domains I own, that I use for work, blog etc). I cannot use one of the free web-based email services as it's just not professional to send work email from a hotmail or gmail account, plus, I need to download/store it on my own PC, for reasons of client confidentiality and convenience. Any ideas will be gratefully received.

Spinning data

Those of us who do properly designed, rigorous scientific research know that we have to question the assumptions that are made when interpreting the data we gather. We also know that we have to be careful what assumptions we let decision makers make when they base their decisions on our evidence.

But, not everyone understands the concepts of competent research design, hypothesis testing, dependent and independent variables, reliability and validity, control groups, and above all, statistics.

Which, I think, is how PR companies and the media mangle so many research studies in the reporting. It's either ignorance or wilful misrepresentation. And sometimes both.

Let me explain.

Take for example the three neighbouring countries that regularly vied with each other about the greatness of their three nations in the past as well as in the present.

Scientists in the first country had been digging 50 metres underground when they discovered small pieces of copper wire. After studying these pieces for a long time, the country's leaders announced that their ancient ancestors 25,000 years ago had a nation-wide telephone network.

Naturally, the government of their nearest neighbours was not that easily impressed. They ordered their own scientists to dig even deeper. At 100 metres down, their scientists found small pieces of glass, and they soon announced that their ancients, 35,000 years ago, already had a nation-wide fibre-optic network.

The politicians of the third nation were outraged by this discovery. They immediately stopped all the research their scientists were doing and set the scientists to digging. They dug to 50 metres, then to 100 metres and finally to 200 metres underground. But they found absolutely nothing.

The government announced that their ancient ancestors 55,000 years ago had mobile telephones.

From these we learn that If you have evidence you can easily misinterpret it to your own advantage and apparently if you have no data you can claim what you like.

Extracted and adapted/added to from the transcript of a conference keynote address, which I recalled after reading this article. Original source unknown: Google has lots of different versions, but no definitive answer. But I thought it was worth sharing, for those of you who hadn't seen it before.

Just say no to drugs

I've written before about how I believe that pharmaceutical companies control the NHS and determine how [most] doctors prescribe.

I firmly believe that most people who are told to take medication [particularly long-term treatments for non-life threatening conditions] would be better off without it. So often the side effects are worse than the actual condition, or alleged risks, And people end up taking drug after drug after drug to counteract unpleasant or unwanted side-effects of the original one, as, eventually, their bodies are so out of their own control that they can no longer do the job they have successfully evolved to do.

Studies are beginning to emerge that demonstrate my point.

Here, a finding suggests that bone-strengthening drugs used in conditions such as osteoporosis may interfere with the breakdown of old bone to make way for new bone growth. This skeletal rebuilding process has now been found to help maintain a healthy level of glucose in the blood. Drugs prescribed to prevent osteoporosis can cause problems with blood sugar levels, which can lead to type 2 diabetes.

And in another study, it is suggested that it may be an excess of the neurotransmitter serotonin, in certain parts of the brain, and not an overall lack of serotonin, that is a causal factor in depression. Which means that all those people taking SSRI anti-depressants (Prozac and its like) could actually be making their whole situation worse. But, no surprise there for me. Drugs are not the answer to depression, they are just a convenient (if expensive) control mechanism for those in situations where it is inevitable, where individuals do not have the personal skills, or access to professionals with empowering skills, to enable them to change.

I'm glad that my body doesn't let me take drugs. I'm also glad that I studied neurology, physiology, and pharmacology as part of my degree courses, and over the years, have worked extensively with medics, so know that they are not the omnipotent, well-informed, gods who know best, that many people believe. These factors enable me to see the current healthcare system for what it is.

There is still too much that isn't known about body chemistry and the effects of pharmaceuticals. There are still too many people looking for quick-fixes to their problems going to see GPs, rather than making lifestyle changes, or learning to understand themselves and those around them better. And, most of all, there is too much of a vested invested interest for drugs companies in maintaining the unquestioning status quo.

And don't start me on the mindless prescription and unquestioning consumption of statins... or on the mindless individuals who think that taking 'recreational' drugs won't hurt them.

Time will tell. And not in a good way, I fear.

Minding the gap

I HATE TECHNOLOGY.

If the world is going to be based around the need to have access to the internet then the system for ISPs sorting out faults needs to become a lot more streamlined and efficient. And they need to develop a mechanism that allows widespread network faults in an area to be linked together, so dealt with together, in a coherent and timely manner.

Maybe it used to take a week to put telephone or electricity back on again when people experienced total disconnections due to infrastructure problems, way back when telephones and electricity were new technology, but no-one I know who is old enough to remember those days remembers it. I doubt it did: there wasn't the convenient excuses of Health and Safety or Risk Management or Indian call centres, or Company Regulations and Procedures, to hide behind, and workers took a pride in their work and were grateful to have jobs, so worked at things until they sorted them out. There also weren't hundreds of companies (all cost-cutting to the bone to feed their greedy shareholders and bosses requiring big bonuses) to choose from for each service, so companies couldn't tell you to go somewhere else - that is, take your problem away - if you didn't like the appalling service you were getting from them.

It would also help if computer users could have a 'level of competence' qualification to present to ISPs. Then, they would know what level of user experience they were dealing with, and the Indian Frustration Experience could be avoided.

I've had so many internet problems over the years that I now know to say that I have tested a line with 2 micro-filters and 3 modems, and have the router plugged directly into the master socket with no extension phones connected, even if I haven't (living 8 kms form the telephone exchange, I know when a problem is my problem or when it is beyond my premises). Even so, it still takes 45 minutes to get through first line support, in India, and convince them that your issue is worthy of being passed on.

Their script means that they treat everyone like they've only just turned on a computer for the first time, are 89 years old, and totally clueless. I do not want to hear, "I am very sorry that you are feeling that I am not understanding your issues Mrs Blue With, but I do have to do my job, so I am asking you again to be turning off your modem and be turning it on again, even though you are telling me that you have have already been doing it for three times before you are ringing me and three times since you are speaking to me. You need to understand that most problems are resolving in this way, and so I am knowing that it is definitely a problem with your equipment."

I have not had any internet access since Tuesday evening. Other than a quick plug into various friends routers as I'm passing their houses, or a quick connection to the free wifi in Small Town Library.

Had I not got Big Teeth and the Persistence of Something Very Persistent (whatever that may be, can't think of anything more persistent than me, actually), I'd still be in the position of my also working-from-home neighbours - waiting for calls to be passed on to the next tier of support, waiting for call-backs that don't happen as promised, and being told that they have to be sent a new modem to try before anything else can be done (even though said person works in software infrastructure design and development!!).

Why don't ISP's take responsibility for problems?

Yes, I know why. Anything that needs an engineering visit from BT Open Reach costs them money, unless the fault is proved to be with the BT network. And it's not just one particular ISP, it's all of them. They share a business model. Hence why they get away with providing such awful service.

And so it is that tomorrow morning, on the 6th day without internet access, someone is coming to sort out the problem. Or not. Last time this happened it took 26 days to resolve, because they buy BT engineering visits in 2 hour slots only (which includes BT men's sitting in their vans chatting, tea-breaks, and talking on their phones to their friends and family), and if the work can't get finished in the 2 hours, or they don't feel like sorting it out, it goes back to the ISP as an unfinished job for reallocation to someone else, who starts all over again, as no job notes are kept.

The reallocation process often takes another 2 days, and, during this time, you have no way of speaking directly to someone who knows about your problem. 2nd line support doesn't have access to 3rd line support's notes, and are only allowed to email the 3rd line central support work allocation person (who could be in any one of at least a dozen locations), not send emails directly to a named person or small team (to account for shift working and holidays) dealing with the problem, taking responsibility for resolving it in a timely way, and contactable directly by a customer for updates.

"Are you telling me, Mrs BW, that you think you can run our business better than we can?" asked the ISP Team Leader I eventually got to speak to on Friday night. By then, I was feeling extremely bloody minded, very tired, frustrated, and annoyed at having had to spend my week driving around the countryside to do things in person that I should have been able to do online. The end of term is always frantic and stressful for me, and this year has been the worst ever, thanks exclusively to malfunctioning technology, and the humans who are paid to resolve problems with it not doing their jobs.

"Undoubtedly!" I said. "I have a brain and I am used to working with systems, and solving problems. I am extremely experienced in identifying where things aren't working, streamlining things to make them work better, enabling others to act on my recommendations, and then assessing the degree of change before making further suggestions for improvement. I also have no fear of saying what has to be said to ensure change happens, even though it may not always be what people want to hear. Plus, I have a husband whose brain works in a similar way, so my whole life is submersed in applying common sense to situations where others are missing the point or not seeing the overall picture. So, in short, yes, I am absolutely, totally, utterly, convinced that I could run your business better than you do"

There was a pause. I feared she had hung up. "You know what," she said, laughing, "You're right. You could. It's a complete shambles, and I'm tired of trying to defend the indefensible."

We had a nice chat. I explained that when one lives 3 miles from anywhere where one can pick up wi-fi, and one works from home, in an occupation that requires daily access to online journals and research papers, banks online, receives bills online, needs to renew several insurance policies before the end of the month, and enter new dates of expiring credit cards into various service providers websites, lest essential services be suspended, one finds it quite hard to be without an internet connection, and even more frustrating when one is told on Wednesday morning that it will need a BT engineer visit to resolve it, but that can only be arranged by a different team, whose call you are still awaiting on Friday evening, despite ringing three times a day since Wednesday to see what's happening.

She found that there were thousands of faults on the line every minute instead of the 20 that she said were permissible for the service to work. I wondered why every person you speak to has their own ideas of fault numbers, but.

She spent half an hour fiddling and found a way to get me a connection that gives 133kbps download and 332kbps upload. That is clearly the wrong way around. And not usable, for anything other than receiving small emails (and maybe posting this, but, we'll see), but, it's more than anyone else around here has got or had since Tuesday evening.

The other thing I've discovered is just how appalling most companies' websites are for using with a (albeit older, because Mr BW's company have been into major cost-saving mode over the past year, which has included not replacing technology that is still limping on) smartphone. At one point I was so desperate to get on with some work that I even considered getting a smartphone (for which I'd have no use normally), but, of course, in order to find unbiased information about what is currently available, one needs, yes, you're ahead of me here, an internet connection.

Plus, I bought a new netbook a couple of days before the connection went down, as the old one keeps freezing every 5 or 10 minutes, and, despite having flattened the lot three times since Easter, and reloaded everything, it still keeps coming back to the same problem after a few weeks. I hadn't had time to set it up as it uses Windows 7, which (despite me having been reading the daily How to Geek email tips on Windows 7 for months, to get me used to the idea of moving from XP one day, and having successfully helped Mr BW set up Mummy Mr BW's new PC running it (yes, Office 97 will work with Windows 7)), is still Slightly Scary to a Witch who'd still prefer to be using Windows 3.1... no, actually, probably Windows 95..., and, of course, it's impossible to set up a new computer without an internet connection. So, although I have been able to use friends routers to snatch a few minutes of connection, it has only been a few minutes due to the freezing problem with the old netbook. If anyone has any ideas on why the thing may be freezing, despite completely reloading the OS and all the software, I'd love to hear, because I'd like to get it fixed so I can use it as another access point.

But, thank goodness I don't use online data storage like many people, or I'd have been totally stuck this week. I'm sure people who rely on internet access don't think about what they'd do without an internet connection for days on end, until it happens to them.

If you've got this far, well done.

Normal service might be resumed sometime soon.

Alternatively, if tomorrow lunchtime you hear of a middle-aged woman with a Blue Pointy Hat having murdered a BT broadband engineer who claimed he was unable to fix her ongoing connection issues within the time he had been allocated, I hope you'll understand why.

Thought for the day

Remember, a real decision is measured by the fact that you've taken new action. If there's no action, you haven't truly decided.

- Tony Robbins

The Friday Question

When we've got raspberries, strawberries, loganberries, blueberries, blackcurrants and gooseberries in the garden, as we currently have, I usually make summer pudding. I'm not that fond of desserts, but I do like summer pudding.

Past tense of course, as I now can't eat wheat. Luckily, I was never a great fan of bread, cakes, biscuits, or pastry (which makes me think that my body knew about my intolerance years before we worked it out). But, bread is a crucial part of summer pudding. Even the best wheat-free bread is like sawdust, and there is no way it would stand up to lining a bowl, being compressed, and being the containing outside of the summer pudding.

So, no summer pudding then.

What's your favourite dessert?

Mi1dred Writes

I have been a naughty girl.

Sorry my lovelies, been a bit busy to write until now, but thought it was time I told you about my adventure last weekend.

Well, did I tell you I was 77 last Tuesday? Anyway, as you know, my custodians, Mr & Mrs BW, arranged a run out to a local jam factory on Sunday, the first run they have organised, so they were a little nervous, the poor loves. Not since Tiggy Arthwhistle-Jones realised that Humphrey Godfrey-Snythe had taken a shine to her have I seen someone so nervous about getting into a car.

Anyway I digress, a nice little group of my cousins gathered to run along with me on a lovely hot day on Sunday, so off we went.

The first part went swimmingly. We tootled along lanes with grass growing down the middle, arriving on time and ready for a lovely lunch, well prepared and organised by the jam factory I must say. Then the quiz in the museum with a prize of a jar of Mr & Mrs BW’s best h0ney jam, which I'm sure was better than the factory's. I met two old boys who told us of their exploits in the 50s driving Au5tin 7s and making a truck with 2 gearboxes. They even had a sit in me, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and went away with smiles on their faces.

We were then invited to go along to a local club member’s garden for afternoon tea and scones (please remember that this is correctly pronounced with an emphasised 'O' not an 'ON'). Nearly there and one of my wheels started getting hot and rubbing, and making lots of noise. BW wasn't very happy, and kept telling Mr BW to stop, but he didn't. Eventually, after a quick look see at a convenient bridge, Mr BW decided I was OK for the last mile, but when checking on arrival it appeared I had also sprung a leak. Us old ladies do that you see, did I tell you I'm 77?

Worst thing was, this leak was petrol. A bit more peering by Mr BW and some of his friends and the leak was found at a point where my petrol pipe runs through my chassis: it had worn through. My hot wheel was just my brakes binding and so easily fixed, but it was decided that leaking petrol and hot wheels don’t mix on a 25 mile drive home, so the nice breakdown people were called. Apparently they are not allowed to work on petrol leaks on the side of a road, or even in a drive, these days, unless there is a fire tender in attendance. Something called "Health and Safety" they said, which seems like "Stuff and Nonsense" to me. If only they knew what had been done to me in lanes over the years.

An hour, and a few more cups of tea, later, and I had my third ride on a truck. One per year I've been with the BWs that is. Clever me. I love riding on trucks. Saves my poor old wheels. After all, I'm 77, you know! But don't tell them, OK?

Lots of people looked, most unladylike it was, being strapped down to a big gruff truck.

Anyway, safely back in The Coven Workshop, Mr BW was playing with my innards yesterday and took away some parts to get the right bits for a new petrol pipe. He also muttered something about having my brakes apart at the weekend. So I am anticipating a bit of minor surgery in the next few days, but then that’s par for the course for an old lady - did I tell you I am 77? - and I hope to be back on the road by the end of the weekend.

So toodle pip for now my on-line lovelies

- Mildred

Sunday Special

Mi1dred is 77 on Tuesday. To celebrate she asked us to plan a little outing for some of her cousins and their parents.

The destination will be a hot and sticky experience, even without the contribution of the wonderful weather (46 degrees Celsius on the wall thermometer yesterday and on Friday), in the town of tilting timber. The cousins' parents have to complete a ridiculously hard quiz in the old-things sanctuary, if they manage to correctly follow the route to the end-point, and the winner will get a container of something made by us that is entirely appropriate.

Can you work out where we are going, from the clues?

Witchy Intuition

Two and a half years ago I nominated Rothbury as the scariest town in the UK, on returning from holidaying near there.

I wasn't wrong, was I? I must have been picking up traces of the future in the present.

I'm always pleased when such situations end in the perpetrator shooting himself. It saves the country an awful lot of money in trial costs, security and prison costs, it prevents the genes from replicating themselves, and the person from evily influencing anyone else. Would that more criminals would have the decency to remove themselves from amongst us in this way.

The Friday Question

What do you collect?

The comments are being rather frustratingly slow again. No idea why, and if you get a '500 internal server error' the chances are it will appear...

Catchup

Noted Hampton Court Flower Show trends: olive trees, agapanthus, achillea, calendula.

They let us in 6 minutes early - and the scheduled entrance time, at 5.30pm, was anyway half an hour before that of previous years. The show layout was totally altered this year, and for the better, we felt, although it took some getting used to. Fewer large gardens and the Daily Wail weren't sponsoring their usual marquee (which I've never much liked anyway).

For once, gloriously sunny, still light at 10.10pm when the fireworks went off, and we got the couple of gadgets we wanted (new airball system for the pond, and another timer for the greenhouse auto-watering system) at huge discounts, and every new plant I wanted. Except for some red ball lily bulbs, but I didn't know I wanted them until I saw them in the plant, and I still can't find a source online.

Plus a scarily Witchy demonstration that someone well known to us is extremely dim and dishonest. But I'm not allowed to talk about that.

Will post some pics soon... Mr BW has been off for a couple of days, and there are never enough hours in the day for blogging at these times.

Disappointments and appointments

Mr BW picked mint to boil with the new potatoes last night.

He picked chocolate mint.

I think he's still disappointed that they didn't come out tasting of After Eights.

I have given up trying to get him to allow his old underpants to go to textile recycling. He has new ones to replace them, and has had for months (since last time M&S did a 2-for-1 offer on multipacks anyway). But, he prefers wearing them with the fabric worn through to the elastic on the tops. Given that they don't seem to have fabric over the elastic these days, that shows how old they are.

Now I have given up telling him to sort them out. I'm not going to do it myself. I have come to the conclusion that I only need to worry when he does start opting for the new ones ;)

When did they break with tradition at Wimbledon and stop putting the ladies' names up on the score boards as 'Mrs' or 'Miss'? Modernisation comes to everything.

Off to Hampton Court Flower Show tonight. One can always squeeze a few more plants into one's overstuffed garden.

The Friday Question

Mr BW and I disagree about very little. Which is good.

But, he always confuses me when we are discussing directions to or from a town centre.

I always say that a town centre is the top, or up, and roads going away from the town centre are down.

Mr BW, on the other hand, insists that one goes 'down' to the town, and when talking about travelling away from the town, says, up. For example, he directed me to a school I have to visit outside the town where he works, from the town centre, as, "You go up [x street] for a quarter of a mile, and it's on your right."

I think it might have something to do with the fact that Mr BW was born and brought up twelve miles from where we now live, and people around here say, "I'm going down the town," whereas I say, "I'm going into town," or "I'm going to [the town]," because I was brunged up on t'other side of London. Or because I work on the principle that towns expand from the geographical centre, therefore anywhere away from them is 'down' from the original settlement.

Which way round are you?

Thought for the day

I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.

- Jerome K Jerome