Sunday, 17 December 2006

Haringay, land of unequal opportunity

In the London borough of Haringay 300 children aged 7 - 16 have been especially picked out from all other children in Haringay schools to be feted at a special Awards ceremony to reward their above average achievements in SATs and GCSEs.  The celebration will be attended by the pupils, their parents, some of their teachers and members of Haringay Council who will present these children with an Award of Academic Excellence.
Sounds really good, doesn't it?  So why, one might wonder, are some people really upset? 
It's because there are many other children who have achieved the same as these selected ones, other teachers who have worked as hard, other parents who are as proud of their child's results.  But they've not been invited.  Their efforts and achievement are not being recognised. They aren't being rewarded.
Why would this be? What could possibly justify picking out only some children, some teachers, some parents this way?  Who would want to tell some 7 year olds that they're better than other 7 year olds?  Why are some childrens'  5+ A-C GCSE results so much more praiseworthy than those of other 16 year olds?
Because Haringey want to challenge stereotypes, that's why.  And what better way to do it than to divide children from their classmates on one basis and one basis only.  And it's nothing to do with achievement, not even anything to do with cultural deprivation, or social exclusion, or homelessness, or poverty.  Nope.  It's all about skin pigmentation. 
This is an Award for Black Academic Excellence.
Some children who already knew that they'd achieved better than the national average have now had it made plain as the little noses on their faces that actually, them being black and all, they've done so much better than anyone could have expected.  That's bound to motivate them,  Not.
And their white classmates in Haringay have learned that in some tests, no matter how hard you try, if you aint black then you can get pushed to the back.

Thursday, 14 December 2006

Dancin the night away

There's nothing more likely to win a lady's admiration than a man who really knows how to dance.  If you want to smooch your way into Numero Uno mistletoe spot this Christmas then here's how to show off those sophisticated smooth moves.
Get practising chaps  :O)

It's a fix, I'm sure I scored 100%!


Your 'Do You Want the Terrorists to Win' Score: 94%

You are a terrorist-loving, Bush-bashing, "blame America first"-crowd traitor. You are in league with evil-doers who hate our freedoms. By all counts you are a liberal, and as such clearly desire the terrorists to succeed and impose their harsh theocratic restrictions on us all. You are fit to be hung for treason! Luckily George Bush is tapping your internet connection and is now aware of your thought-crime. Have a nice day.... in Guantanamo!

Oh woe, woe, woe is me.  I expected 100%!

Take the test and see if you do better  :O)

Wednesday, 13 December 2006

Now that's MY sort of Santa! :O)

Dear Santa,
I wood like a cool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. Iv ben a gud boy all yeer

yer Frend, BiLLy

Dear Billy,

Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawn care. How about send you a friggin' book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell!



Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!

Love, Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?



Dear Santa,

I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my  mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do?

Love, Teddy

Dear Teddy,

Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a  hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your frigid mom, who nags him constantly? It's time to give up that  dream.
Let me get you some nice Lego instead.



Dear Santa,

I want a new bike, a Playstation, a train, some G.I. Joes, a dog, a drum kit, a pony and a tuba.

Love, Francis

Dear Francis,

Who names their kid "Francis" nowadays? I bet you're gay. I'll set you up with a Barbie.



Dear Santa,

I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your reindeer outside the back door.

Love, Susan

Dear Susan,

Milk gives me the runs and carrots make the deer fart in my face when riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Leave me a bottle of Scotch.



Dear Santa,

What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy making toys?

Your friend, Thomas

Dear Thomas,

All the toys are made in China . I have a condo in Miami , where I spend most of my time making low-budget porno films. Hey, you wanted to know.



Dear Santa,

Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're awake, like in the song?

Love, Jessica

Dear Jessica,

Are you really that gullible or are you just a blonde? Good luck in whatever you do. I'm skipping your house.



Dear Santa,

I really really want a puppy this year. Please please please PLEASE PLEASE could I have one?



That whiney begging shite may work with your folks, but that crap doesn't work with me. You're getting a sweater again.



Dearest Santa,

We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?

Love, Marky

Dear Mark,
First, stop calling yourself "Marky." That's why you're getting your ass whipped at school.  Second, you don't live in a house, you live in a low-rent apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad justlike the boogeyman does, through your bedroom window.
Sweet Dreams,

Monday, 11 December 2006

Soz but it made me laugh

A man went to a zoo but all it had was a dog.




It was a Shitzu.   

Sunday, 10 December 2006

How very satisfactory :O)

A cosy afternoon spent on the sofa next to the Christmas tree watching a classic John Wayne western, drinking coffee with rum in it, eating a Belgian chocolate or three followed by a couple of mandarin oranges while tonight's Victoria plum crumble gently cooks in the oven and wafts a delicious fragrance through the air.  Then, joy of joys, ski Sunday. 
Other than hibernating, what better way to spend a chilly, wet and very windy Sunday!
What did you do?

Friday, 8 December 2006

Oh boy eBay

My eBay expertise grows apace.  I have two Georgian doll's houses, altho I only wanted one I couldn't resist putting a bid on two. Imagine my joy at finding I'd got both.  I also possess - and am doomed to keep - an obviously much loved toy farm, with buildings and animals so battered that they look as if they belong on a distant and poverty stricken tornado devastated Welsh hillside.

I'm getting good at this!

My husband meanwhile is bidding thousands for vintage guitars.  And he's found the password to my Paypal account.  I have a horrid feeling that joining eBay could turn out to be a disastrous move.

Lilac time

I think I'm getting old.  My airing cupboard looks like a Benneton shop.  My glassware is all in the same cupboard and lined up by size.  I now have 2 pairs of slippers - some for bathtime and some for trekking out to the dustbin.  Most of my pockets contain a roll of extra strong mints.  My bedside drawer contains a tube of moisturizer for feet and a tube of KY I bought the same year that Wham split up.  Today someone told me that I'm very nice looking for my age.
The time may be very near for me to volunteer for the Church Flowers Rota.
Tomorrow I go out to buy something purple.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens . . .

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Wednesday, 29 November 2006

I'm a loser :O((((((


I didn't get the canoe  :O(

Men, Duhhhhh :O)

A man and his wife were having some problems at home and were giving each other the
silent treatment. 
On going up to bed the man realised that as his alarm clock appeared to be broken he would need his wife to waken him at 5.00am for an early morning business flight. 
 Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and LOSE), he wrote on a piece of paper.....'PLEASE WAKE ME AT 5.00AM'....and he left it where he knew she would find it.
The next morning the man woke up only to discover it was 9.00am and he had missed his flight. 
Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't wakened him, when he noticed a piece of paper beside the bed.
The paper said....'IT'S 5.00AM - WAKE UP!'
(Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests) LOL

Sunday, 26 November 2006

My Shameful Secret :O/

I've done it.  I've gone and succumbed to something bad.  Really bad.  But you know what?  I was driven to it! 
Even before Noah got the wink from on high, I've wanted a canoe.  Not one of those little lurid coloured kayaks, but a canoe.  A real canoe,  Something big enough to carry both me and a picnic basket and a fishing rod, a radio, camera, books, and from time to time a companion.  Every year I've put it on my Christmas List and for a long time now it's actually been the only thing on my list.
My husband is a generous and loving man.  He's a generous and loving man who can't swim.  He doesn't want to go in any canoe, he doesn't want to go on a canoe with me especially, and he doesn't want me to go in a canoe alone.  A new anxiety that he's expressed is that he wouldn't want me to risk the dog's life in a canoe.  My dog was born to swim, unlike my husband who's taken half a century to learn how to paddle without fretting.  And I still think he's just putting a brave face on it so that Connie doesn't laugh at him.
Anyway, in 21 hours I may actually own a canoe at long loooong last.  It could be well after Christmas before my husband finds out tho and it'll take another Flood before he gets in it without being sandbagged first.
He's never going to know that I've registered with Ebay tho - that's far too dark a secret to share.

Starter for 10 :O)


If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?

I'm SO good to you! :O)

To access the old style message boards then firstly, from the new boards, select General Politics (or any board you want to read regularly and obviously General Politics News will be at the top of your list) as your favourite on MY BOARDS.  There may be a tab saying Add to My Boards - if so, click it.  The key words to look for are 'My Boards', ok?
Then click on this link: aol://5863:126/mbSQuery:512509   and THIS IS IMPORTANT,  either drop it into Faves or stick it on your top bar.  You can totally ignore that it says anything about Parenting, ok? 
Then when you want to read the board, click this link you just saved and select My Boards from the top right.
Then links to any boards you've added to the My Boards list will come up.  Select Politics and there it'll be, in all it's old fashioned and much loved squalor.
But you will need to make sure that you save the above link to your favourite places or on your toolbar and use this way in every time, otherwise you are diverted back to the new crap html boards.

Monday, 20 November 2006

I'm a Chosen One, yes yes yes I am!

At last, at long long last, after years of wearing my nails down to the quick typing answers to personality test after personality test in hopes of getting some decent feedback I've found the one, the ONE test that's got me to a tee!

Here it is:   Tickle: Tests, Matchmaking and Social Networking  and below is my result.

The devisers of this test are geniuses! 

Altho I have to admit to a sneaky suspicion that taking personality tests is a bit of a giveaway that I'm a bit short on the err....ummm.... personality front.  Even so, lookee here!!  :O))))

Jane, you're a Chosen One!

You're warm, giving, knowing, and patient. Chances are you're not afraid to actively pursue your goals and dreams. As if all that weren't enough, you pretty much set the standard for emotional health by being filled with positive feelings and energy.

You'd be a great person in an emergency and you always return phone calls. You're no fair-weather friend.

And that's just scratching the surface!

Oh yes, geniuses!

Mind, the 'patient' bit isn't guaranteed :O)

Starry eyed

In the very early hours of Sunday morning I got out of bed, pulled a jumper and my dressing gown on top of my nightie, put long socks and slippers on, donned my husband's big gardening jacket and his beanie, grabbed a cup of coffee and ventured out into the night.  I took my dog in the car through the silent lanes and climbed through brambles that wrenched at my nightie to the highest point in our local country park where I sat all alone and frost frozen on a bench and gazed upwards for the next 90 minutes.

No-one saw me, which was a relief, but I saw 5, yes 5 falling stars.  Y'know, that's the best pre-dawn thrill I've had in donkey's years <gg>

Friday, 17 November 2006

Soz if you're Irish :O))

In a remote village in Ireland, a farmer's wife went into labour in the middle of the night, and the doctor was called out to assist in the delivery.

Since there was no electricity, the doctor handed the father-to-be a lantern and said, "Here. you hold this high so I can see what I am doing."

Soon, a baby boy was brought into the world.

"Whoa there," said the doctor, "don't be in such a rush to put that lantern down. I think there's another one coming."

Sure enough, within minutes he had delivered a baby girl.

"Hold that lantern up, don't set it down. There's another one!" said the doctor.

Within a few minutes he had delivered a third baby.

"No, don't be in a hurry to put down that lantern, it seems there's yet another one coming!" cried the doctor.

The farmer scratched his head in bewilderment, and asked the doctor.....

"D'ye tink it might be de loight dat's attractin' 'em?"

Thursday, 16 November 2006

Wednesday, 15 November 2006

Life lesson :O)

A man in a hot air balloon realised he was lost.  He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted  "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him  an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."

The woman below replied, "You're in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You're between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude."

"You must be in Information Technology," said the balloonist.

"I am," replied the woman, "How did you know?"
"Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is technically correct, but I've no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I'm still lost.  Frankly, you've not been much help at all.  If anything, you've delayed my trip." 

The woman below responded  "You must be in Management."
"I am" replied the balloonist "but how did you know?"

"Well" said the woman "you don't know where you are or where you're going.  You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise which you've no idea how to keep and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems.  The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met but now, somehow, it's my fault"

Sunday, 12 November 2006

In Remembrance

" We are all hoping that Churchill keeps to his promise and gets us relieved sometime this year.  I notice that both his and Chamberlain's son keep getting home after a few weeks out in the Middle East..  I wonder what Lady Astor thinks of the Reservists who she said were 'basking in the Red Sea' now!

Well I am now one of Haw Haw's 'Desert Rats'.  The name he gave us has stuck and we all wear a cloth rat on our shoulders.  The prisoners whom we take back are all very envious of all who wear it.  They must think we are the ones who ate all the malt, especially when we drink their wine and eat the tinned food we have captured from them.  Poor blighters, they are mostly a pitiful sight and resemble the English tramp who is in a bad way for want of food and clothing.

We are now getting all the kit we want, tanks, guns, trucks and everything that we need thanks to the gallant women of England.  They are doing a man's job as well as any man and we intend to use it all in a way that shows our gratitude to our beloved country's women heroes.

I hope Fred is getting plenty of leave and that he's able to stay in England for a long time yet.  There are no laurels out here.  He's better to stay with the ones he loves so much, as I wish I could."

10th Armoured Division, Monday March 8th, 1942.  Family Archive.

Run rabbit, run run run

The Metropolitan Armed Response Unit, Special Branch and MI5 are all trying to prove that they're the best at apprehending criminals.  The Home Secretary decides to give them a test.  He releases a rabbit into a forest and asks each of them to catch it.
MI5 go in.  They place highly trained animal informants throughout the forest.  After 3 months of intensive investigations they conclude that rabbits don't exist and put in a request for better funding.
Special Branch go in. They question all plant and mineral witnesses.  After 2 weeks with no leads they raze the forest to the ground killing everything in it and compile a report proving that rabbits were about to bring the nation to it's knees with their wmd, myxymatosis.
The Metropolitan Armed Response Unit goes in.  2 hours later they emerge with a very bloody hedgehog carrying a written confession of guilt and with 5000 shotgun pellets in it's head.  The hedgehog is screaming "Okay, okay, I'm a rabbit I'm a rabbit."

Friday, 10 November 2006

Ohhh Father

Usually I get a couple of wall calendars each year, one each from my local garage and my oil supplier.  For this coming year tho things have looked up!  Instead of worthy but dull monthly series of cartoons of 'cute' birds or views of the Nuneaton Bus Terminus I've received a copy of CalendorioRomano.  It was a case of Oh My God - almost literally when I looked at Father October - which I share with you here.  Who wouldn't be confessing lewd thoughts each and every Saturday to this veritable 'occasion of sin'! 
On the other hand, apparently these 'models' actually are real practising Roman Catholic priests.  The Vatican has refused to either support or deplore this calendar, which fact raises huge questions about celibate priests who, in their Christian ministry, argue for chastity before and often within marriage choosing to be portrayed as glamour pin up boys for a secular - or indeed any - calendar. 
Sometimes even an old cynic like me is left wondering what on earth the world's coming to!

Thursday, 9 November 2006

Monday, 6 November 2006

Rude, but it made me laugh

A guy goes to the supermarket and notices a beautiful blond woman wave
at him and say hello.

He's rather taken aback, because he can't place where he knows her from.

So he says, "Do you know me?"

To which she replies, "I think you're the father of one of my kids."

Now his mind travels back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful to his wife and says, "My God, are you the stripper from my bachelor party that I laid on the pool table with all my buddies watching, while your partner whipped my butt with wet celery and then stuck a carrot up my ass???"

She looks into his eyes and says, "No, I'm your son's maths teacher."

Wednesday, 1 November 2006


The US Govt's Dept of Health and Human Services has allocated $50 million dollars to a campaign persuading unmarried adults up to the age of 29 to change their naughty naughty ways. 
Recent surveys have shown that 90% of American adults aged 20 - 29 are regularly having sex and Bush isn't happy about it.  Every time I look at my kids I know how he feels but somehow, now that I can't nail their feet under their homework desks, I'm stumped how to stop the little beggars from doing what comes naturally.  :O(
Anyway, the Bush Govt's answer to the tendency of single free adults to engage in sexual acts which may - altho of course 99.999999% don't - result in children you might think would be to make sure they all get good comprehensive advice about safer sex maybe, or perhaps about contraception.  Maybe both if Bush's neurone was having a good day and firing up.
Think again.
Bush is to spend $50 million to tell them to stop it at once.  Keep it in their trousers, keep their knickers on.  Don't even think about sex and definitely don't do it.
Amongst this weirdy madness one thought occurs and it's one born of empathy for the American people.... 
What on Earth is wrong with them that sex stops at 30?????????
2nd November.  One further thought - not that I've been obsessing about this No Rumpy B4 You're a Wrinkly Campaign - but does it mean that all US porn will only feature 'stars' over the age of 30 now?
I have images of paunches, grey pubic hair, blokes' backs 'going' in the middle of the scene, cramped calves..................  c'mon, if you're old enough to have sex in the USA then you know what I'm talking about  :O)))


I've just been walking with my dog.  It's a beautiful morning, the sun shining on the treacle coloured beech leaves and the holly berries shining out of the woodland gloom, but as I climbed the hill out of the trees the grass became crisper and at the top there was white frosty rime on the sere grasses and birch twigs. 
We had a very sharp frost last night and it's finished off many of the flowering plants in my garden.  The impatien leaves are dark and wilted and the dahlias are edged in black as if in mourning for the summer gone.
But only 4 days ago it was so hot that Connie, having an away day at the beach, tore off her kecks and paddled in the sea.  Wouldn't it be great to be 5 again.

Tuesday, 31 October 2006

My best boy

Taken today - and he wrote it himself!  :O))

Lonely Hearts

Ads from the Lonely Hearts column of the London Review of Books:

'They call me naughty Lola.  Run-of-the-mill beardy physicist (M, 46).'

'List your ten favourite albums... I just want to know if there's anything worth keeping when we finally break up.  Practical, forward thinking man, 35.'

'Employed in publishing?  Me too.  Stay the hell away. Man on the inside seeks woman on the outside who likes milling around hospitals guessing the illnesses of out-patients. 30-35. Leeds.'

'I like my women the way I like my kebab.  Found by surprise after a drunken night out and covered in too much tahini.  Before long I'll have discarded you on the pavement of life, but until then you're the perfect complement to a perfect evening.  Man, 32, rarely produces winning metaphors.'

'My ideal woman is a man.  Sorry, mother.'

'Your buying me dinner doesn't mean I'll have sex with you.  I probably will have sex with you, though.  Honesty not an issue with opportunistic male, 38.'

'Not everyone appearing in this column is a deranged cross-dressing sociopath.  Let me know if you find one and I'll strangle him with my bra.  Man, 56.'

'Are you Kate Bush? Write to obsessive man (36).  Note, people who aren't Kate Bush need not respond.'

'Stroganoff.  Boysenberry.  Frangipani.  Words with their origins in people's names. If your name has produced its own entry in the OED then I'll make love to you. If it hasn't, I probably will anyway, but I'll only want you for your body. Man of too few distractions, 32.'

'Ploughing the loneliest furrow.  Nineteen personal ads and counting.  Only one reply. It was my mother telling me not to forget the bread on my way home from B&Q.  Man, 51.'

'Mature gentleman, 62, aged well, noble grey looks, fit and active, sound mind and unfazed by the fickle demands of modern society seeks...  damn it, I have to pee again.'

'Slut in the kitchen, chef in the bedroom.  Woman with mixed priorities (37) seeks man who can toss a good salad.'

'Bald, short, fat and ugly male, 53, seeks short-sighted woman with tremendous sexual appetite.'

'Romance is dead.  So is my mother.  Man, 42, inherited wealth.'

Myself I think the woman sounds the best of the lot, but which would you go for?  :O))

Wednesday, 25 October 2006

Mmmm, smell that!

What a miserable wet and dark day it is, and cold too.  The poor ponies in my paddock stand gloomy under the oak tree and from time to time take a slow canter to the fence in hopes of their daily apples, their hooves squelching as if they're running through thick custard.  One little dapple grey who's been served more times this year than we've had sunny days is still 'bulling' so as she's a brood mare it looks as tho she'll be going off to the great catfood factory in the sky before spring.

To cheer myself up a little I've made a small batch of mincemeat ready for the X word - tho I refuse to say it before mid November at the earliest.  I trundled off to Oswestry in the downpour to get the ingredients but forgot to buy some brandy.  Once the weighing in began, my husband asked, foolish foolish man, if he could help - something he never asks when spuds have to be peeled or cabbage shredded.  This time of asking came opportunely for me to say yes, of course, please add ¼ pint of brandy.  We don't have any, said the innocent.  Oh we do, sez I, see just there?  WOT, my calvados???  Is it or isn't it brandy?

I bet he won't ask tomorrow when the Xword cakes are made, but the rest of his calvados will be going in just the same <evil grin>

Come Xword time, he'll tell all and sundry that 'we' made the mincemat and cakes and he'll sniff appreciatively and entirely forget that once he'd poured the hooch he sulked off upstairs to play something written by an extinct southern American black guy entitled 'Ah wish mah wuman would leave me and leave ma hooch alone' blues.

Monday, 23 October 2006


My week in Rome was wonderful.  The hotel was smashing, central and within walking distance to everything in the City and the weather was great. 

The only thing which marred our stay was a metro crash which killed one and injured 250 - and it happened 15 minutes before we intended to use it. 

I think we saw all of the major sites and we really enjoyed walking the city streets and byways.  We also took an evening tour of Rome by night and while trying to set up my camera for night time shots I discovered on getting home that I'd also taken 4 short videos!  I had no idea that my digicam could take audio-video. 

Here's a pic of a typical Rome roofscape, full of domes:


Another of the Forum and Colosseum:


And finally a view of the Trevi Fountain - and yes I did throw 3 coins in to make sure that one day I'll return



Sunday, 22 October 2006

First pics

A week ago today I attended Mass given by the Pope and I found it very moving. The choir was wonderful and even the Pope sang out.  I did put a word in on your behalf altho I still think you could all make a good Act of Contrition.


The Forum:


The Colosseum:


Friday, 13 October 2006


I'm off to Rome early in the morning for a week.  I shall be in St Peter's Square on Sunday morning for the Pope's blessing. 

Be good while I'm away and I'll offer up a prayer for all you sinners  <g>

Thursday, 12 October 2006

Saturday night parties, yeahhhhh

When  Constance's mummy was 4 I said that I was in two minds as to whether I'd allow her to be 5, because she was lovely just as she was.  I got several weeks of exemplary behaviour by putting her on a warning that any mischief and she'd have to stay at 4 for another year.  So shoot me <g>   

She's just told me she wished she'd remembered that scam in time to do the same thing to Connie.  After doing the Conga around the cul de sac with a horde of screaming 4 & 5 year old 'princesses' in tow, I think her dad is going to ban any further birthdays.  He got off light - my vote was for the Tweetie Pie costume and the bright yellow tights 

Connie is the second tot with the big laugh on her face - and she never realised who was suffering inside the furry suit - altho if she had, she'd have laughed even more <g>

Sunday, 8 October 2006

Thank your Mum right now, you ingrate


What, out of all the unselfish things human beings do during their lifetime brings the most fulfilment?  What from their life’s labours long outlasts them?   What work can an individual do to bring most benefit to their country


I’ll tell you the answer; it’s your children, my children, the country’s children.


No children means no families.  No children means no future for the country.  No children means no cultural transmission.

Children are not only members of society in their own right as full British citizens; they are also the society which will continue after we’re gone, and the replicators of all future society.


Why then do so many appear to want mothers, who literally give life to the country, to do it all without any practical acknowledgement or recognition of the challenges that producing and raising future citizens involves? 


People complain about maternity leave, child benefits, mothers who continue to work in paid employment and mothers who don’t, parents who smack and those who spare the rod, parents who shower their children with material goods and those who don’t have the wherewithal to do the same.  People complain about the presence of children in supermarkets, on public transport, in restaurants, in shops, in pubs, on the street and in the workplace.  Mothers get condemned for driving children to school and for working reduced hours to fit in with school times.  They get criticised for restricting children’s freedom to play and for allowing play in public places.  Parents are condemned for assisting their children with schoolwork and for not helping them with literacy and  numeracy, for pushing them to achieve and for neglecting them by not having high expectations.


Is it any cause for surprise that fewer and fewer Western women are prepared to put their own lives on hold – and also suffer a negative effect to their future employment opportunities and pension entitlement – when at every turn they are criticised and denigrated for it?


Do we not all want our society, our culture to continue?  Do we not want to influence the way that children experience life with us?

Should we expect, when we tell parents to raise their children without any assistance, that we can also tell them precisely how they must do it?

Feed your children, house them, clothe them, educate them, discipline them, entertain them, develop them how we say you must, but don’t ask for any recognition of the problems that might present and definitely don’t expect any help.


British birth rates currently are insufficient to replace the people already here.  More than 3 in 10 couples choose not to have children at all, and those who do are having less than two.  The future of our culture is diminishing as fast as the number of potential pension, NHS, defence funding taxpayers.

Friday, 6 October 2006

Unveiled racism

There have been literally thousands of messages posted to the General Politics message board following from Jack Straw's comments about the Muslim veil. 
Personally I think he makes a valid point - such veils do act as a barrier between Muslim women and the broader society and they mark their wearers out as intentionally choosing to be viewed as separate from the rest of us.  Such views as Straw's - if it is his view rather than a bid for red top popularity and some of Reid's limelight - should be publicly and politely expressed, otherwise how can Britain come together as a nation with shared social understandings?  The Leader of the British Council of Muslims agrees with Straw on this, and says that the veil is a topic of dissension within British Islam.
The problem is, and always has been,  that any comment made about Muslim lifestyles from people in the public eye elicit an outpouring of racial intolerance of the basest sort.  On the message board there are (truly) countless messages saying that the veil should be legally banned and wearers forcibly deported.  There is also a distressing amount of people who apparently believe that Muslim women are forced to veil by Muslim men, and/or that they wear veils to hide the fact that they're all too ugly to be seen in the streets.  This is the sort of thing which prevents decent people from having the courage to speak their minds, raises what are little more than trivial differences to become major shibboleths, and allows minor irritations to develop into weird racist theories.

Thursday, 5 October 2006

the 6th cheery thing :O))

A happy thing from my day which I forgot to list was wrapping birthday presents for Constance who's 5 on Saturday, and her Mum, who's birthday is on Sunday.  Less fabuloso is being roped in to do games at Connie's 'Fairy Princess' themed party but at least I'll be doing it with Felix on my hip while his Mum's busy wiping up the dropped jelly, bless his adorable little cotton sox.

This is him at 14 weeks.  I know it's too mumsy for words, but I knitted this little jumper myself, good eh?   <gg>Preview

5 cheery things in my day

I managed to get the dog out briefly between bouts of rain and she only ate one lump of horsepoo.
My autumn flowering cyclamen have self-seeded wonderfully in just a few years and now I have a large swathe of nodding pink flowers beneath my magnolia tree.
I've saved myself the £600 quoted for painting my dining room by washing the walls and ceiling with sugar soap and it's come up looking as good as it did when it was first done 4 years ago.
I got a quote from the AA for my car insurance £60 beneath Sainsbury's renewal price.
My husband's away from home at the mo so I'm forced to eat both chocolate eclairs in the pack.

Wednesday, 4 October 2006

Things really aint wot they used to be.

When I was at school the Sixth Form were exalted Goddesses, rarely seen, much admired heroines who occupied a different world, and certainly a different school, to we lower orders. 
The Angels of the VI  had a suite of rooms at the top of a turret, rumoured to be furnished with easy chairs, sofas and a working fireplace - and they definitely had a weekly coal allowance.  Male teachers called them 'Miss' and had they ever deigned to speak to us, we non 6th Formers had to call them Miss too and if anyone had dared to cheek them they could dish out not only lines like 5th Form Prefects, but detentions too.
They wore similarly coloured but very differently styled uniforms to the rest of us, mostly differentiated by what they didn't have to wear - gaberdine macs and grey knickers and socks for example - and they had 'special' scarves and fancy edging to their blazers which were of a better cut and fabric to the common herd.  They were also allowed to put their hair up instead of wearing plaits and could have their ears pierced all of which were forbidden on pain of a letter to Mum for the rest of us. 
VI Formers were never seen around the rest of the school except when some of the 7th termers (waiting for their Oxbridge admissions) took a small group for French conversation.  Unlike us, they could use the walled garden which was attached to one side of the Quad at lunchtimes and sit on benches by the fountains during free periods for al fresco revision.  While the rest of us traipsed the corridors moving to different rooms for each subject, they remained in their secluded hideaway and teachers went to them.
Compare that to the way that 6th Formers are treated now, trudging the corridors and being buffeted by uncouth Year 9s, dragging their day's worth of text books, rough books, homework, art projects, packed lunches and outdoor clothing from room to room where the whole lot has to be stuffed under the desk where feet should go.  No personal private and permanent desk, no private lockers, mass showers with the plebs, plastic 'easy' chairs in their squalid Common Rooms - when they're allowed such things.  No respect for their voluntary status, no respect for their near-adult age, no respect for them at all.
If they knew what post-compulsory schooling was like for their parents, the poor things would never believe that school could be like that.  It's small wonder that, rather than looking forward to reaping a few rewards for surviving GCSEs, today's post-16s barely manage to tolerate school.

C'mon, fess up all you babes :O)

I've been reading someone's blog entry about online crushes.  She describes how it feels to come across someone online who writes things so clever or insightful that they seem to be channeling your own thoughts, if only you could write so eloquently or so wittily.  The beauty of the internet crush is that on the internet, it doesn't matter what you look like —or whether you and the object of your crush is a man or a woman, cute or plain, or sitting around in baggy pajamas.  Rather, you can each judge and be judged on the merits of your mind. This, my blogger says, opens the door to intellectual flirtations freed from the confines of reality.   She finally comments that online crushes are like chocolate sauce ie you won't starve without it but it lends a sweet, enriching and intoxicating touch to online communications, and, she says, it's great fun to cultivate a few intellect-based crushes, enjoy feeling smitten from time to time, and hone your flirting skills via e-mail and blog comments.
Now, I'm not too big on internet flirting having some years ago been crushed by someone with a crush but I must admit that from time to time I've felt an attraction to someone whose words have struck me with joy that someone else thinks the identical way that I think only more cleverly, or more often and less intellectually, someone who's stuff is reliably both insightful and witty.
I wonder, does anyone feel brave enough to 'fess up to enjoying the occasional online crush?  And more - has anyone ever fessed up to the object of their crush? 
Wot happened next ???  :O))

Blond blokes eh? :O)

Yesterday I was having some work done on the car. A blond VaVaVoom driver came in to the garage and asked for a seven-hundred-ten. The mechanics all looked at each other and one asked, "What's a seven-hundred-ten?"
He replied, "You know, the little piece in the middle of the engine. I lost it and need a new one. It had always been there."
The mechanic gave the bloke a piece of paper and a pen and asked him to draw what the piece looked like. He drew a circle and in the  middle of it wrote 710. The mechanic then took him over to another car which had the hood up and asked, "Is there a 710 on this car?" He pointed and said, "Of course, it's right there."

Click here to learn the identity of the mysterious 710:

Monday, 25 September 2006

Easy money :O)

I read on the Politics bard that some aol members were offered broadband for £9.99 per month and as I currently pay £17.99 I thought I'd pursue this with Billing. 

I phoned on 0870 3202020, chose the option to talk about pricing/technical and just hung on for 10 minutes to speak to a human being (interestingly for the first time ever I heard Paul Brady being played as muzac - if you've never heard his band then make sure you do soon). 

I asked about the  £9.99 offer and was told it didn't apply to me, but only to some lucky people chosen by computer.  That's outrageous, sez I, I won't put up with this unfair treatment, put me through to cancellations. 

Cancellations - by name of gorgeous Laura O'Neill - said she quite understood my anger at the unfairness of it all and she could either cancel my account if that's what I wanted, or alternatively she would put me on the £9.99 per month immediately.  I got the official email within 5 minutes.  I thus easily saved myself almost £100 pa.  Try it yourself if you're paying more than £9.99, but do it quickly because this 'offer' is time limited.

I'm off shopping now  :O)

Sunday, 24 September 2006

The right sort of terrorist

From Time magazine:
The Bush Administration prefers to paint the War on Terror in stark terms of good and evil, but the reality is that not all terror suspects are considered equal. That much was clear on the same day that the nation solemnly recalled the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, when a federal magistrate recommended freeing a man being held on immigration charges who is also awaiting retrial in Venezuela for the bombing of a Cuban airliner 30 years ago that resulted in the death of all aboard, including the Cuban national fencing team.
Why is the Bush administration so unconcerned about terrorists like Posada? The answer is simple and obvious. As Time points out, "Posada, a self-styled freedom fighter, has been involved in anti-Castro activities for decades."

If you are an anti-Castro terrorist, according to the US government, then you are a good terrorist. I am sure that the families of the victims of that bombing of an airliner will be happy to know that the US government sees things that way.

Friday, 22 September 2006

Trying to turn a leaf out of Oprah's book

When in the past I've been extremely unhappy with my life I've made lists of the good things in it and found that it helped me put things into perpective.  Now apparently Oprah Winfrey recommends keeping a "grateful journal" in which you "list five things that happened this day that you are grateful for. What it will begin to do is change your perspective of your day and your life. If you can learn to focus on what you have, you will always see that the universe is abundant; you will have more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never have enough."
I think that positive thinking is a useful psychological tool, and so I'm going to do this, every day, until I - and perhaps my Blog - turn from gloomy cynicism towards the cheerily optimistic.  Here then is my list for today:
1. The tomatoes still on the vines are reducing in number and soon my culinary labours in that direction will be over for the year.
2. My new washing machine may make scarey noises but I've now done 2 washes and it has neither walked across the floor nor ripped any clothes into shreds.
3, The Shield is on TV tonight.
4. I have a loving and very understanding husband who doesn't ask me to accompany him walking the dog when it's raining.
5. My granddaughter Connie managed to get hold of her reception teacher's 'Good Girl' stamp, and marked her school uniform shirt indelibly with that valediction, smart cookie Connie!
Just call me Pollyanna, and then have a go yourself  :O)
Sod it, it's 18.24 and I've just discovered that The Shield ended last Friday!  Grrrrr.

It's just like a Cosmo quiz, honest! :O)

Take this quiz and see how suited to marriage you are - and yes I'm guessing you're already married but even so, have a go : Click here: The Premarital Quiz!
The multiple choice questions include the following gems:
When the Bible says that the “husband is the head of the wife” it means:
The husband always has the final say on all matters.
The husband is in a position of honor above the wife.
The husband’s behavior is the model for the wife’s behavior. In other words, husbands are required to “go first” or do what is good, beneficial, and necessary first.

When the Bible says that the wife should submit to the husband,it means:
The wife should do everything the husband says.
The wife should repress her life’s goals if they are different from the husband’s goals.
The wife should stand by her husband even if he says or does something wrong.

40% is all I got so I failed   Fortunately this means only that I chose alternative responses to those that the quizmaster intended me to choose - luckily it's possible to take the test again after you've been emailed the 'correct' answers.  Next time, were I to bother, I'd be 100% top marriage material  <gg>
So on balance I think it's fair to say that this 'quiz' is all about indoctrination and bugger all to do with helping people who are intending to marry.  Pity the poor young people dum enough to fall for it and then think their marriages doomed before they begin.

Thursday, 21 September 2006

Sick sick Cindy

Think of the last time you saw a photo of a 5 year old in her swimming coggie.  She probably had sand on her legs and was more interested in finding seashells than in posing for the camera, right?

Now imagine your 5 year old posing, looking coyly over her shoulder at the camera, arm in that 'guess what I'm hiding' position, and a tattoo right in the small of her little back, just above her bottom, a bit like a bull's eye.  Nice image huh?

Well Cindy Crawford thinks so.  Know what I think?  Prostituting your 5 year old daughter is the pits, and it's also pandering to paedophilia.  Poor child, to be the daughter of such a media slut.

Have a looksee and make your own mind up:           

HP kin Sauce.

From time to time I feel impelled to diet, either when my clothes get a bit on the tight side or when one of our ultra skinny-fit daughters comes to stay and spends hours running up and down the local hills and then talks about missing her cross-trainer when she's away from home.  The only other thing that makes me want to be thinner more than it makes me want to eat more chocolate is when I see an unflattering photo of myself - usually standing next to one of said daughters.

Imagine my joy then at seeing this:  Slimming photos with HP digital cameras - HP Digital Photography Center

On the other hand and having given it slightly more than 10 seconds thought of course, the actuality is that I think Hewlett Packard will have to go and lick a dead bear's bum before I buy any of their products again.  Sizist bastards.

Sunday, 17 September 2006

Saturday, 16 September 2006

Happy days

Can I just say, in public, that cervical smears hurt, that having IUDs inserted or removed hurts, that mammograms performed by evil harridans hurt and that all male medics lie through their teeth and women shouldn't collude with their lies!

I was a bloody well woman before I went to the Clinic!

My other happy news is that I have a stinker of a cold.

Oh, and my washing machine has died a grisly death.

Further, if I see another tomato I shall stomp it.

What's more, I want to know why my daughter thinks it's a better idea for me to cut up extremely decent Egyptian cotton sheets to make Felix some cot sheets than for her to 'traipse down to the shops' in her new people-carrier and just buy some.

Shoot me now.

Wednesday, 13 September 2006

Warning, I'm talking about sex!

Recent research emanating from John Hopkins University in the USA has demonstrated that many more adolescents are virgins since the 'Promise' campaigns began than before.
That's the 'good' news.
The bad news is that they're much more frequently only virgins in the Bill n Monica sense.  Rates of teenage fellatio have apparently increased in the under 20s from 15% to 80%.
Whether this 'bad' news seems like good news depends entirely on whether one's viewpoint is that of a teenage boy presumably as there's no equivalent rise in rates of adolescent cunnilingus.
Perhaps as a means of contraception choosing the fellatio route works ok, but altho it protects the boy from paternity costs it can still leave the girl with herpes, thrush and gonorrhea.  It's also, for teens, obviously not a sex act characterised by mutuality.
One wonders why so many teenage American girls are practising fellatio - which, for those who've never tried it I have to tell you isn't the most fulfilling way for a woman to have sexual relations - but at a guess they think they've found a route to deal with both of the contradictory social prescriptions currently the vogue in youth culture; ie if they want to be popular and be thought 'hot' then they have to engage in sexual activity and satisfy their boyfriends' wish for rumpy BUT if they have intercourse then they're 'sluts' and their boyfriends will never want to marry them.  Fellatio instead of intercourse satisfies both demands.
But it gets better yet; there's a similar rise in teenage anal sex and doubtless for exactly the same reasons and this presents considerable health risks even in excess of those related to fellatio.
Both girls and boys believed they were still virgins after fellatio and anal sex.
What concerns me as much as anything else about these sad findings is what it says about the way that young American girls perceive their role as being that of a sexual services provider in their romantic relationships - and of course that boys think the same.  It also demonstrates how the impact of outside influences - in this case the 'Promise' campaigns coupled with the Clinton denials - have a very different outcome that might have been wished for.
So, my conclusion so far is that, until and unless we can somehow magically bring about a change in adolescent gendered attitudes to sex, perhaps our British adolescents once past puberty really should have ready access to condoms as suggested by some schools and counsellors, not that I condone under-age sex of any description, but oral gonorrhea isn't nice - and if we discover that our grandchildrens' mothers have it, it'll be even less nice.

El Presidente

THE PRESIDENT: Thank you all for coming and forming a terrorism-victim shield around me. September 11th. September 11th. Towers down. Box-cutters. Action time!

They're still out there. But we're safe because of all the things I've done. But not safe. It's a real chin-scratcher. But we are bringing everybody to justice without actually doing anything remotely justice-related, and many times to a bunch of people who had nothing to do with anything. That shows you how serious we are.

So serious that we set up secret prisons and some not-secret prisons with lots of secret things, things so juicy that those notorious gossips in the Red Cross couldn't even get to them. Those guys are always saying "He should have water" or "Maybe you shouldn't suspend him by his shoulders for 48 hours at a time" and blah blah blah.

Some of the detainees said bad things. Maybe it was after we held them for four years without charges and for no reason, maybe it was before. Who knows? Now the double-super-secret detainees: they really are terrorists. So bad that we can't even charge them with anything because the charges would eat right through the paper and onto the floor and through the floor towards the center of the Earth like the blood of a Queen Bitch alien.

I'm going to tell you know how bad these guys are through the example of one guy, but me tell you all these details it isn't divulging anything important, because it became unimportant and non-securitally compromising the moment I decided to utter it, and midterm electoral success trumps security. The illegal ends justify the means. Really, our hands were tied, and by ours I mean theirs and very uncomfortably. Honestly, you'd all be dead if we hadn't had done this in exactly this way, and I don't want to hear any back-sass from any of you.

Which is why we're entirely changing the perfectly legal, maximally effective thing we were doing. The non-torture torture was absolutely essential to producing the dividends paid by the program. If we didn't non-torture torture, and instead just non-tortured, God only knows how many smoking craters would be dotting our great landscape.

By the way, that shit down in Cuba: also totally legal, despite what every person who doesn't get paid by the White House. And those rotten Supreme Court justices. So we'll try again, and see if we can't stick an infected finger in those robed tyrants' eyes, aye what, mate?

So here's the long and short of it: they get lawyers (boo!).. I know, I know... they're presumed innocent (laughter), and they get food and medical care (shrill hissing). But don't worry, we know they're guilty and a hand-picked tribunal hearing limited evidence and denying basic fairness protocols will know that as well. Maybe. Because frankly I don't care what happens after I'm in office.

Now that everyone finally disagrees with our methods, it's time to pass this vitally important legislation so that the world can now that a slim majority of partisan legislators right before a midterm election also agree with us.

September 11th. Think of your grandchildren, whether they exist or not.


Tuesday, 12 September 2006

Bye Bri

Yesterday I had to say bye bye to my GP because after 4 years <since we moved house> of prevaricating and obfuscating about our address my husband couldn't take the embarrassment of being asked to confirm it yet again.  Personally I found that 'For goodness sakes, how many times are you going to ask me' served me well but my hub tended to clam up and go pink so we finally reached the end of his road.
My doc Brian, when I fessed up, asked hopefully if our old address was maybe now our holiday cottage, and then said that he'd guessed ages ago that we'd moved but certainly didn't feel the need to take us off his list.  It seems mad, we see him twice a year for humdrum check-up things and in any event his out-of-hours service covers the whole of the region including both my old and new address.  But there you go - that's the outcome of the dire influence of receptionist dragons who harrass poor husbands for their correct address.
It took me quite some time to break Brian in to my little ways and after our initial differences we'd become firm friends.  Now I'm faced with locating another surgery and slowly working through the docs until I find one to suit me.  I really do think GPs should have to publish their CVs so that patients can make an informed choice.
Anyway, Brian Johnson GP of Chirk, you're a star and I'll miss your little jokes and nervous chuckle  :O))

Monday, 11 September 2006

So how does this work??

1. Grab a calculator. (You won't be able to do this one in your head)
2. Key in the first three digits of your phone number (NOT the area code)
3. Multiply by 80
4. Add 1
5. Multiply by 250
6. Add the last 4 digits of your phone number
7. Add the last 4 digits of your phone number again.
8. Subtract 250
9. Divide number by 2

Do you recognise the answer?

Saturday, 9 September 2006

Wednesday, 6 September 2006

Ooooh, daddy's so stiff! :O)

Guard families cope in two dimensions `Flat Daddy' cutouts ease longing

Maine National Guard members in Iraq and Afghanistan are never far from the thoughts of their loved ones.But now, thanks to a popular family-support program, they're even closer.

Welcome to the ``Flat Daddy" and ``Flat Mommy" phenomenon, in which life-size cutouts of deployed service members are given by the Maine National Guard to spouses, children, and relatives back home.

The Flat Daddies ride in cars, sit at the dinner table, visit the dentist, and even are brought to confession, according to their significant others on the home front.

``I prop him up in a chair, or sometimes put him on the couch and cover him up with a blanket," said Kay Judkins of Caribou, whose husband, Jim, is a minesweeper mechanic in Afghanistan. ``The cat will curl up on the blanket, and it looks kind of weird. I've tricked several people by that. They think he's home again."

At the request of relatives, about 200 Flat Daddy and Flat Mommy photos have been enlarged and printed at the state National Guard headquarters in Augusta. The families cut out the photos, which show the Guard members from the waist up, and glue them to a $2 piece of foam board.

Sergeant First Class Barbara Claudel, the state family-support director who began the program, said the response from Guard families has been giddily enthusiastic.

``If there's something we can do to make it a little easier on the families, then that's our job and our responsibility. It brings them a little bit closer and might help them somewhere down the line," Claudel said yesterday.

``You know, this is my motto: `Deployment isn't a big thing, it's a million little things.' These families go through a lot."

Do you sometimes wonder if you belong to the same species as some Americans?

Mind you, there have been times in my family life when a cardboard Daddy might have been slightly more use than the real one was.    :O)

Condi can do it too

Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice attempting to broaden discussion of Iraq by invoking slavery and the American Civil War said:  "I'm sure there are people who thought it was a mistake to fight the Civil War to its end and to insist that the emancipation of slaves would hold."
This equating of the widespread and growing disapproval of failing American military and political tactics in Iraq with support for negro slavery in 19C America is certain to be a winning argument for the White House.  Not.
Now if you say you think Bush made the wrong decision in invading Iraq, or if you think the whole venture has turned into a bloody screwed up mess, then you're no different from people who think negros should be enslaved to whites. 
Love Bush and all his works or be told officially that you're inhuman scum.
Nice whoever said it, but somehow even nicer coming from a black woman who knows how many black Americans oppose the Iraq war.  Perhaps she also knows that the overwhelming majority of US troops in Iraq are recruited from the poorest (and Blackest) sections of US society.

More Bushisms

President Bush said about Osama bin Laden today: “Bin Laden and his terrorists' allies have made their intentions as clear as Lenin and Hitler before them. …The question is: Will we listen? Will we pay attention to what these evil men say?”

On March 13th 2002 he said of Bin Laden “I just don't spend that much time on him. …[W]e haven't heard much from him. And I wouldn't necessarily say he's at the center of any command structure. And, again, I don't know where he is. I — I'll repeat what I said. I truly am not that concerned about him.

Riiiight...... So in four and a half years, bin Laden has gone from being someone on whom the president should not waste his time thinking about to as grave a threat as Lenin and Hitler.  Interesting.

You know, a sentient person might conclude that either:

A) Bin Laden’s potency and influence have significantly increased over the last few years, meaning Bush’s war on terror is an abject failure;

B) Bush was full of shit and/or incompetent on March 13, 2002;

C) Bush is full of shit and/or incompetent today, September 5, 2006; or

D) All of the above.

I’m going with D.

Starter for 10

You stumble upon a lamp in the Blackpool sands and out pops a genie who's willing to grant you one wish. The catch is he's only able to grant one wish, that wish is removing a single person from the House of Commons.  No death involved or anything; they're just relocated to a cashier's job at Asda... and a scorching case of genital herpes.

Who would you nominate?

Tuesday, 5 September 2006

Just a little reminder

President Bush today reminded Americans that the United States is a nation at war on the same day his administration proclaimed significant progress in the war on terror but said the enemy has adjusted to US defenses and that "America is safer but we are not yet safe".
Well, blow me down.  Americans need reminding.  Maybe he ought to mention it more often.
Oh, no.  Perhaps not.  Mentioning it would bring the number of servicemen and women killed to the forefront of the American mind.  It might make them recall where the National Guard were when Katrina struck.  It may remind them of the incredible amount of their hard earned taxes being spent every day by the military.  It may remind them of his claim that the US had won the war in Iraq.  And that before that they'd won the war against the Taliban and Bin Laden.
It may remind them that Bush ignored the fact that the WTC terrorists came from Saudi Arabia.  It may remind them that Bin Laden is still out there, still hating America.  It may remind them what a mendacious onanist they have for President. 
Best keep shtum in future Georgie, then they'll never guess.

Monday, 4 September 2006

Who's the sick bastard?

A man terrorised women for 3 years, seizing them on the street, tieing them up and raping them, and stealing their shoes as mementoes of happy times.  Police traced him via dna and found over 100 women's shoes in his home.
He was charged with 4 rapes and 2 attempted rapes and admitted guilt.
The Judge said this was one of the most serious sexual crimes and if found guilty by trial would have meant a minimum 35 years sentence.  So he gave him 15 years. 
15 years for a possible 50+ rapes. 
Some justice.
Some Judge.

Wednesday, 30 August 2006

Sad stories

A man who'd separated from his wife picked up his 3 little lads for his usual weekend wth them, drove his car into the sea, and used his mobile to let their mother hear their dying cries for help as the sea came in.
Their mother will never recover.
A man on holiday had words with his wife in their 3rd Floor hotel room, picked up his two tots and jumped from the balcony killing the 6 year old and breaking the 2 year old's bones.
Their mother will never recover.
A man, having lost his custody case, traced his separated wife to the Scottish Island hideaway she'd run to, abducted his 12 year old daughter and took her off abroad to be married to an adult stranger.  The child is now lost to some unknown Pakistani village with strangers who don't even speak her language.
Her mother will never see her again, and will never recover.
Who can be surprised if marriage has lost it's 'Happy Ever After' allure for British women?

Saturday, 26 August 2006

Doubly sickening

An Austrian girl was kidnapped 8 years ago aged 10 and kept in a cellar until her recent escape.  Her kidnapper has committed suicide and she is now safe and back in the family home.  Imagine the massive trauma for this girl and her family. 
Imagine how she and they must feel as the police and the world's media press for intimate details of her abuse in captivity.  Listen to the prurience of the newsrooms.
Now, can anyone tell me what anyone will gain from hearing about whether and exactly when and how he ripped her knickers off, and what he did then, and what he did again, and again.
Imagine why they should feel the need to know.  Can they prosecute him?  Will seeing the details of her abuse spread on front pages and TV screens help her or her parents?
Or do you think as I do that the demand to hear the literal ins and outs of the rape of a 10 year old amounts to yet more seriously damaging abuse?

Thursday, 24 August 2006

Happy Days :O)

Yesterday we went to Barmouth and yes, I know you're enviously thinking that there's nothing quite like the North Wales coast in torrential rain with 3 children and a dog, but hold on there - you forgot the aroma in the car en route back! 
Whatever the weather tho Connie is a gal who knows how to have a good time 

Tuesday, 22 August 2006

Ramblin Jack rules, ok?

I wonder why it is that some people just seem not to understand that DNA contains more than one genetic marker?  On the politics board someone is claiming that because a piece of research has shown that some of the (very) few people whose DNA has actually been tested have a genetic marker in common with the ancient found in the Cheddar Gorge that therefore proves that he, and presumably anyone else who is white and cares to make the same claim, is 100% through and through British.  <soz for the Levinesque sentence there>
The whole 'genetic Brit' argument is the argument of dummies who don't know even the first thing about genetics.  Asked about the origin of the many other genes in their DNA they have no answer - obviously as very very few could answer - but still fall back on this old dimndumma argument.  None of us knows for sure who or what nationality or race each and every one of our forebears were - and that's without mentioning the fact that even in today's scientifically au fait world it's a rare man who knows his father.  Of course many men believe they know their father and the vast majority are correct, but even so, a goodly few are calling a man Dad when the milkman has the same eyes <gg>
That so few are able to trace their matrilineal lines simply adds to my point.
Someone else on the message board has countered with a claim that being British is nothing to do with genes and everything to do with culture.  I'm left wondering which culture she means.  The Sun readership culture?  The culture of the aristocracy?  The culture of remote Scots fishing villages? My culture? Yours?
You know I think everyone's culture shares just one thing with my culture - all are a mix of subcultures.  For me there's my two professional subcultures, my educational subculture, my family subculture, my women friendship circle subculture and that of the friends I share with my husband which is very different.  Then there's those who share my particular taste in music - so that would be bluegrass fiddler subculture which in turn is a division of Cajun, which is a subculture of American folk music, which is..... etc etc  Not forgetting my WI jam making subculture, my gardening subculture etc etc  - and those of us who surf the net are ourselves an 'umbrella' subcultural group for all the other subdivisions of our surfing subculture of which we may each belong to several; bloggers; videologgers; message board posters; chatroomies; simple surfers; researchers; shoppers; games players; music fans - the lists of the subcultural groups we each pick and choose from is endless.
You may think that these are not cultural groups at all - but you'd be wrong.  They all have a specific language and historical references which apply only to them but not to others.  My point is that belonging to a specific set of them says sfa about nationality.
What makes someone British is emotional attachment to a land and the national life of the land.  As far as I'm concerned if someone themself says s/he is British - and only British so dual nationalities are excluded here - then they are as British as the next Brit.  And that applies even to crinoids who can't argue a rational case but can only come out with crap about genes.