Jeremy Clarkson

So Mr Clarkson has lost the plot and wacked his producer in the head and the producer took himself off to get some ice and sympathy.

This happened at the end of a day's filming in Yorkshire northern England.

It was late when work finished up and it seems that when they arrived at the arranged hotel, the kitchen was closed and there was no dinner for them.

Mr Clarkson just wanted some steak and chips.

So now I am just surmising about the rest of the untold saga.

I reckon the production team had probably worked a long day and were on the tooth when they arrived at their digs. Mr Clarkson is not a little bloke so could have been more famished than others say the size of Mr Hammond.

An order for food was put in and the Kitchen Closed sign was rudely thrust in their faces.

This happened because the Hotel is run by people looking to use it as a tax dodge and if they made a profit for the BBC visit it would upset their plans to cry poor or to fully launder their ill gotten gains.

Mr Clarkson slumped into a sugar low - he was fucking hungry after all, and he came to, punching at whatever / whoever was around and sadly that was the producer.

He told his BBC bosses that he'd been naughty and they took a few days to decided that he had to go. His contract was up at the end of March anyway and this meant they could save a bit of cash on the legal - eagle bits and bobs.

Now he's off like a fart in a high wind and I reckon that's a shame. I haven't heard that the hitee has complained and I haven't heard the anything was broken at the hotel, except maybe the food curfew.

The BBC stood Jonathan Ross down and sacked Russell Brand cos they rang Manuel and were pretty silly. The BBC have to be seen to be a little pillars of propriety cos it is spending public money, but really sometimes PCness just gets taken too far.

It might of course all be a bit of a hoax perpetrated by the very clever Mr Clarkson cos he has a new idea, and the thought of  another year phaffing around in cars with his boy mates was just more than he could bare.

Anyway, I hope that the show does not go on without him. It'd be a fitting end to car madness that a knuckle sandwich in the depths of Yorkshire should herald the chequered flag to Top Gear.

Vroom Vroom

Athena from Optus at Pacific Fair - positively God like.

There is nothing like spending hours, yes literally HOURS, trying to sort out your phone / internet deal to make you lose the will to live.

I got all excited today about getting a new phone. I did the research, picked the one I wanted and then found out that,
A. There were only 100 in the whole of Australia.
B. They weren't being made anymore
C. Maybe Nokia are going the way of the dinosaurs - this could be scuttle butt.

So back to the drawing board. I hate all this research shit. I schlepped out to Harveys to have a look there and then rang some more Optus people, Craig from Robina was about as useful as a wood glue to a jeweller. I told him so. I doubt he gave a shit about his poor review.

I settled on a Nokia 930 even though the one I wanted had a much better camera and let's face it that's why we buy a phone today, so we can take pictures. Oh how the times have changed.

And off we went to Pacific Fair cos they had one set aside for me.

Music should have been playing and angels singing as we walked in to meet ATHENA.

Young people in phone shops must routinely flip for it, when they see old people approaching. I reckon if I was a twenty something with a good grasp of technology and mega-boobies and all that, I would hide under the counter rather than deal with dickheads like me.

But hide she did not.

She sat patiently, she played show and tell with various phones, she LISTENED to what I wanted and then worked out a plan to get it for me.

She dialled and I spoke to Philippines, One through Five and finally I got onto Crystal who was very helpful. She made computer notes about our 'deal' and then it was back to Athena. During the 2 hours - yes 2 shitting hours!! Athena and I had reconciled that perhaps I didn't need a new phone at all, I just needed more memory on my old phone which I get along very well with. She did some comparative print outs and while I was singing along on hold, a decision was reached. She popped the new thing in the old thing and set it all up for me. Yippee!!

The home stuff was sorted too and new plans made for the mobs. As unlikely as it might be, we walked out of there on a cheaper plan based on our old people usage and we were all happy little campers.

Athena was a bloody breath of fresh air. She came and went as she saw to other punters but always came back to me to see how I was doing talking to the Philippines. And in the end she dotted all the Ts and crossed all the Is.

She should be giving lessons in Customer Service, although sadly that would mean she would be off the floor and I'd be stuck with one of the others.

Now I am set. No more messages about lack of space and the need to delete files - have tried that and have been most unsuccessful. I can click away and will wonder about anew phone/camera as and when this one dies or I am brave enough to take the leap away from what I know into the land of the very unknown.

Thanks very very much Athena.

Plane recliners - shitful?

This is the discussion of the day online. Should people be allowed to recline their seats in economy? on domestic flights? on long haul flights?

I could literally feel a panic attack coming on even as I considered it.

I am claustrophobic in the extreme. Sometimes I have a little panic if I have trouble pulling off a jumper, and I always travel with a doctor's note, but too often that makes no difference.

I was having this discussion recently with a fella I know and yes he is taller than me. He said the first thing he does when the seat belt sign goes off is to fully recline the seat, and I said if he did that I would spend the flight swinging from the headrest as I made my way in and out of my seat - as a statement yes and also cos I would not be able to sit there flicking off his dandruff and dissecting the thread count on the seat protectors. He said if I did that he would punch me!

So there is no middle ground.

Where possible I part with the cash for an exit row or premium economy or business and I like to do this well in advance cos until it is all settled and I know exactly where I am gonna be seated and under what conditions I will be travelling, I cannot look forward to going where I am going.

Having a full blown panic attack on a plane is just not a happy experience, FOR ANYONE.

We were flying Munich to London one evening and had as always sorted the seats and for some strange reason the German counting system was different and instead of an aisle seat on the side, my seat turned out to be in the middle of the middle section. I saw it immediately we walked onto the plane. The realisation hit me like a red mist and so when we got to the steward I said to her the only thing I could think to say, ' If you make me sit there I will cry.' Yeh I know what a spoilt little princess! She said, 'You vill sit!'

I squeezed passed the lady one the aisle and Steve squeezed in too.

I was out of control immediately. I could not get a breath. I rocked back and forward. I hid my face in my hands and as promised, I cried. Firstly quiet little sobs as I tried in vain to maintain some decorum and then I washed my whole face and my chest good and proper.

We took off and then the steward came to get me. I was completely nuts by now. I thought she was gonna pop me somewhere akin to jail and I wouldn't move at all until she made it clear that we were both gonna be bumped up to business seats.

Steve was thrilled to bits. He ate drank and was very fucking merry. Me, well as is the case after a full blown panic attack, I was just exhausted and after some sense of calm was restored I slept.

It was a truly shitful flight.

This is not an isolated event. I have stood up on many flights because there just was not enough air in front of me. Once on a plane I think to The Gambia, I trawled around the plane and sat with my legs up the walls in any spare space until I was told to move on. We played cat and mouse. I sat with legs ups, they said move, I moved somewhere else and lay there with my legs up and they said move. It was a circle dance. Sitting in the seat was just not possible. It's a long way from London to The Gambia.

So now I am thinking about 2 trips this year. One to Sydney and that's pretty simple cos I go with Virgin and pay for the exit row. It's only a few extra bucks but worth it, except that last year they bumped me out of the aisle exit seat and stuck me in the middle and Steve had to jump up and down until they fixed it. Turns out they were just trying it on cos it was one of their own travelling for free.

And then there's the small matter of flights to London in September. This I haven't yet reconciled. Steve is happy to sit at the back of the plane, have a couple of beers and snore his way  home. But I just cant think about it. I reckon I would have to be so sedated that I doubt they would let me board.

I am hoping for some super deals closer to the time.

So No reclining for me. And please if someone ever tells you on a plane that they will cry, give what they want if you can, cos crying might well be the least of it.

Open House Preparations 101

So you might know that The Big House is for sale, and Open House weekends have seemingly become my life. Preparations (ie fucking house work) are a pain in the bum, but I reckon after a good few, I have come up with some short cuts.

Restrict yourselves to the absolute fewest bathrooms possible during the week. No that doesn't mean I actually shared a bathroom with Steve and his powder, nor did he with my bubbles and potions, but that meant only 2 bathrooms to scrub-a-dub. The others only needed a bit of a guezzz around, except for the downstairs loo and that needed a scrub too. Ho bloody hum. Oh and if you can stand it, use shit towels and save the 'right coloured ones' for showtime.

Don't bother with polishing the granite all week cos it will need to be done again ANYWAY, so save the effort and give it a go just before the punters get there. Have a BBQ for dinner on the evening between inspections to save filthying up the kitchen. That's the plan for tonight, so I will see how it goes.

Just hose off the pool glass that is all manky from the dog shakes. It is NOT necessary to go at it with a glass cleaner and a squeegee. BONUS!

So now the place is in good order and it's time to insure that you are not gonna be too inconvenienced by the lookie lookers. Well more than opening your place up to a bunch of complete strangers, cos that's just a given pain in the bum.

It's the age old question - to hide the toothbrushes or not to hide the toothbrushes. Yeh I hide 'em, cos I remember a story about some shitbag coming in and sticking a toothbrush up their bum and taking a picture of it and then sticking the toothbrush back and posting the photo at a later date. OOOOH YUK!  Well even if this is an urban myth, I don't fancy taking the risk, so away they go. Bath plugs which are easily nicked for purpose or piss off value and Tellie remotes with nickable batteries can get all popped out of sight. The only trouble with this is remembering where you have hidden stuff. I have spent hours looking for those night lights and mozzie zappers, or maybe some bugger found 'em in their hidie-hole and nicked 'em. Anyway I reckon if they are still here, I will find 'em when I am packing up, if we ever sell the place.

Pack a basket with Doggie treats, your kindle and phone and be ready for the off when the smiling agent arrives, and enjoy the 3/4 of an hour to yourself forgetting that strangers are fucking up the floors, or that you have to do it all again tomorrow and next weekend.

I went to a neighbourhood auction just before today's onslaught and it was not an exciting one. No Sale and only 1 bid. I wanted to give out fliers but consensus was that that was not cool practice. Not sure why.

Come on the punters to the Big House.

Yum Cha yumminess.

A while back Bell and I went to Yum Cha for lunch. It is such a fun experience. I love the trolleys and the lookey lookey and then choosing. It suits me well also because everything comes separately and so nothing touches on the plate, but that's a whole other nuttiness yarn.

We enjoyed ourselves, so last night we thought maybe we should introduce Zig to the wonders of the trolley dinner.

Off we went and we sat in a big booth set with little plates and bowls and tea cups and chop sticks. Well Zig was very excited. He did what all 10 year old boys do when faced with long sticks, he stabbed everything in sight, until he decided that he might like to eat his dinner with 'em. I am bloody hopeless and so is Bell, we asked for a fork. The waiter sort of smiled, but you know, well not really a happy smile.

Little bamboo baskets of yummo arrived and Zid did his best with the sticks but eventually resorted to the fork. 3 generations of finger challenged souls. Oh well.

Steamed Pork Dumplings, mmmmm Carol had taught me about the little bit of soup in the bottom of these so we all tried to spear the top of the dumpling and suck out the soup, Some of us were more successful than others. Perhaps suffice to say that there was no way that the restaurant will be able to skimp on the washing of that table cloth.

Fried Dumplings. very yummy and very easy to eat.

Fried hairy prawn balls. well he's 10 so you can imagine just how funny Zig thought these were. He started off with a little titter, but when he saw his mum and me cracking up, he fell about laughing and  crying and the same time. These balls were too hot to handle! Patience was the order of the day.

There were lots of things on the menu, but as the trolleys had been parked up for the night, and we lacked imagination, we decided to go again with the same stuff. It was very tasty and so much fun.

Yum Cha at Carindale shopping centre, near the library, we recommend you!

Illusions

 

 

Do you ever wonder what is REAL?

 

There are so many illusions. Purposeful like this stairway to no where built of paint, and then there are the lies and misleadings of turds and ad executives and media barons.

 

Ain't it lucky that we have a brain, a bit of logical rational thought, to determine and distinguish it all.

 

And what is truly wonderful, is that we also have the power to suspend disbelief and become completely immersed in the make believe of movies or novels or plays or indeed these paintings.

 

How fabulous to have such control over the workings of the mind.

 

Of course we can't all exercise this control. Some don't enjoy or allow that sink into fantasy which theatre and movies demand for best effect. Some are too naïve or simple to have a finely tuned bullshit detector.

 

So I know that these chalk footpath drawings appear from time to time but I thought I'd pick a few of my favourites at least from what was on offer today. Who knows where these talented artists will take us tomorrow.

 

Don't fall in little man.

 

Oh Look, Santa's got your letter.

 

I would completely lose it!

Now that's quite a thirst.

Just bloody beautiful.

 

   



Family Law - it sure ain't easy

I am not at all sure why, but sometimes bullies just burst puss at everyone and it can be an appalling job to scrape it all off.

So imagine if someone told your kid that they had the RIGHT to determine where they live when they are 12. You figure that this could not possibly be the case. FFS they can't vote til they're 18, and can't leave home til they are 16, so how could it possibly be right that they can decide where are gonna live at 12?

Trawling through the Family Law sites seems to give you cause to celebrate, except that there is nothing definitive. Kids are sometimes asked their preferences and sometimes this is considered important and sometimes not and sometimes kids are not asked at all. So there are no LAWS as such, only applications applied by mediators and judges to individual cases and that seems reasonable. Each case on it's merit, consideration for what is best for each kid.

Except that I reckon it encourages people to follow their fear and not apply for court orders in case something untoward happens and they lose everything. After all it would not be unusual that someone lies in court and if they are very good at it they could come out victorious. And maybe it's better to have some influence rather than none. And maybe it's possible to counteract the damage done by the other parent during YOUR time.

As I guess is always the case, there are no guarantees so a good deal of bravery and faith in the system is needed just to have a go.

But there's the rub. I have long thought that the trouble in our society is that you get the justice you can afford, so if you are skint, you are a bit buggered. Yeh there are freebie avenues which are very tardy and not at all reliable and so you would need to be even braver to go down that route. At least if you were paying someone they might be on your side, stand up for you, take time to listen and have a vested interest in the outcome?

What happens when one parent has the cash and the other doesn't?  Does the money win? And stats would show that it is usually the woman in that scenario without the cash. It really is all quite a gamble.

And the idea that you just have to have faith in the ability of the mediators and judges to see through the bullshit and find the truth, scares the hell out of me.

We watch good old Judge Judy and she seems pretty wise to me, though I reckon that she gets it wrong sometimes.

Zig's father has told him that he has the right to decide to come and live with him when he's 12. And he's conned Zig into believing that living at the arse end of buggery and sorting himself to and from school miles away from his mother will be a hoot. And worse still, he's convinced Zig that all his little friends at his Mum's place, well they just hate him and that he needs to go to a different high school so he can make new friends.

He has convinced Zig that it is his turn to have him, that his Mum has had him long enough, but the truth is that Zig just always feels that his father needs some looking after. Hardly the job of a kid - but that seems to be the way of it.

And for all these years the bastard has bullied Bell and has so eroded her confidence that I am not sure she will be up for the paper warfare. I have nothing good to say about him. I can't help feel that this latest bombshell is yet another way of having a good slap at Bell. If he considered what is best for Zig, he'd have disappeared years ago.