WE ARE SAILING, WE ARE SAILING

Here I sit on the P&O Azura having spent the, day in Madeira fulfilling one of the wishes on my “bucket list” – cocktails at Reeds Hotel, Madeira.  How mad is that?  Last week I was in England trying to keep warm and here I am 6 days later in sunshine.
 
The cocktail was good, the hotel was snooty, the view was spectacular, been there, done that, move on.  Petra next?  Who knows!

I never thought that I would take to cruising, and to tell you the truth I’m still not sure about it.  But all I can say is that there is never any need to feel bored or lonely.  Plenty to do, masses of people to talk to, some interesting who have the potential of becoming lifelong friends and some maddening who I would never wish to see again. The interesting ones I seek out and the boring ones I avoid (easily done amongst 3100 passengers and 1200 crew.

Speaking of crew, our Captain is really good looking and really young!    I suspect that he is even younger than most of my grandchildren.  He is probably a naughty little boy really.  I wonder if his mother knows he is in charge of this big ship?

What do you think of this joke?  I was told by entertainment staff  at our dinner table last night:-

An Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman were discussing what the fastest thing in the world was.  The Englishman said he thought that electricity was the fastest because you flick a switch and on comes the light.  The Scotsman disagreed, he thought that the mind was the fastest thing in the world because your body reacts to thought instantly.  The Irishman said “Oh no, I think that diarrhoea is the fastest thing in the world”.  The other two looked at him in amazement.  “Diarrhoea?  How can you possibly think that?” “Well yesterday I had diarrhoea and I didn’t have time to switch on the light or even think about it!”  Boom, boom!

Funny or what?

A VERY, VERY GOOD NEW WORD

INEPTOCRACY

 A system of Government where the least capable to lead are elected by the least capable of producing, and where the members of society least likely to sustain themselves or succeed, are rewarded with goods and services paid for by the confiscated wealth of a diminishing number of producers.

And there you have it my friends, the Brave New World in a word, ineptocracy. Worrying isn't it? 

But am I bothered?  Does this face look bothered? I intend to lay back and enjoy my Christmas cruise to Madeira via the Canary Isles and Portugal.  They are going to find it hard to confiscate my meagre wealth if I've already spent it!!  Or will this be considred a form of tax avoidance?. 

So if you read that a crazy 72 year old great grandmother has been banged up for the heinous crime of enjoying herself, that will be me! 

BISH, BOSH, BAM

THE EYESORE OF A BLACK "BUNGALOW" IS
DEMOLISHED  AND THE NEW BUILD IS ABOUT TO START

Some time ago (about 5 years ago to be vaguely precise!) we started the arduous process of applying for planning permission to build a  new house to replace the monstrosity of a black corrogated building nextdoor to where I live.

At the moment I'm too traumatised to go into detail about unhelpfullness of the local planning department. Suffice to say that I ended up putting in an official complaint which was NOT upheld (now there's a surprise). With the country in such a perilous financial state you would think they would ease the process and get money moving, but no, they are bunch of total tossers.

When I feel in a "safer" place, as in I don't want to piss them off too much until the house has been built, I'll tell the full story.  Warts and all. 

The new house will be home for my granddaughter and her delightful family.  It will be wonderful to have them living nearby. 

In the meantime, life goes on.  Well it does for me anyway, but not my poor car!  It got sick this week and I have reluctantly decided that it's not worth spending £2000 to fix her up when she is only worth £4000!  Poor old girl. I loved her to bits.  But unfortunately cars, like pets, don 't live forever.  So this week I take delivery of a beautiful glossy black Audi A4 saloon with only 14,000 miles on the clock and a host of bells and whistles.  I freaked out the salesman by saying that it would probably last longer than me.  He didn't know how to respond and dealt with it by saying nothing. I wish I could learn that skill.  In my case, what goes through the head comes out the mouth. and unfortunately it's usually total bilge.

And I'm writing this total bilge because I can't be bothered to do my christmas cards.  But, hey ho, I'd best crack on.  But before I go tell me this and tell me no more, why does Christmas come so early each year now? And, while I'm on the subject,  where have the long  hot summers gone to? OK! OK!  I'll shut up.  I'm off now - TaTa xxxx.

I GIVE UP

This morning the BBC reported that Rotherham Borough Council took three children away from their foster home because the foster parents support UKIP.  Their reason?  They said "these children are not UK children" and UKIP is a racist political party.  WHAT!!!  Read their manifesto you idiots.

The children had happily been with this family for several months and even started calling them mum and dad.  What sort of imbicile would have taken that decision.

No, don't answer that, let me.  The same sort of imbiciles that I am dealing with at my local planning office. They don't have a brain between them. Enough said.  It makes me rage.

A GREAT GRANDMOTHER'S RITES OF PASSAGE

From time to time I have mentioned some of the famous people that I have met over the years to my two great granddaughters only to be met with blank faces.  It then became a challenge.  Surely I must have met someone that would impress them.

"I was once introduced to the Prince Andrew, Duke of York and spent an hour in his company" Nothing!

"I am friends with Gilson Lavis, the drummer with Jools Holland" "So what, we know him too!"

"I worked with a guy who was suspected of helping the Great Train Robbers" "The Great who?"

"I went to school with Bill Wyman from the Rolling Stones" (This is stretching the truth, he went to the boy's school, I went to the girl's and never the twain shall meet).  "What's a Rolling Stone?".

" I tricked Rick Wakeman (a rock legend) and Francesco Da Mosto (a devastatingly handsome aristocratic Venetian architect) to propose marriage to me IN WRITING at book signings."  "Never heard of them".

"One of my friends was in San Francisco in the "summer of love" with her rock star husband Keith Relf   from the Yardbirds.  She knows Eric Clapton." "Summer of love? What do you mean?"  (Better not go there!)

"My TV Producer friend got your mother a bit part in a TV series featuring Julian Clary." "Did she get paid?"

"Tom Jones laughed at me when I drove past him, recognised him and involuntarily slammed on my brakes." "Lucky you didn't cause an accident".

But last night I believe that I finally cracked it. On TV, Tulisa, one of the X-Factor judges, happened to mention that her father and uncle used to sing with Mungo Jerry.  I knew Ray Dorset from Mungo Jerry because he used to drink in my local pub.  I texted that information to my granddaughter and she texted back "They're impressed!".

BOOM!!!!

BLOGGER OR GOLF - WHICH IS THE MORE FRUSTRATING?

Is it me but has "blogger" got more complicated?  Once upon a time I used to understand what I was doing (ish!), but now I have to belong to a social network site and + share or google + and the new, simplified, (that's a laugh) all singing and dancing design section is totally beyond me. 

And why am I always being accused of being a "robot" just because the stupid word verifier doesn't understand what I type?  And why, when I switch on the audio word verifier does it spout out letters I can't hear or understand? Where has the "follow" button gone and why don't they leave things alone?  Grrrr!

Apart from that I'm OK.  In August I took up golf and last Monday graduated from the baby course to the grown up coarse.  The baby course (known as "The Academy") is a 6 x par 3 hole course.  My best result on that was 29, my worst 42 shots.  Not good.  But onward and upward, my buddies and I decided to graduate.

Hole 1 on the grown up course is a par 5, I did in 17!  After that I stopped counting.  It was a nice sunny day, why not just enjoy the walk? (I know, before you say it, golf is a good way to ruin a good walk!)  My buddies are not experts either so we dropped the element of competition and when another couple came hot on our heals instead of waving them through we just picked up our balls and walked on to the next tee.  Unfortunately the couple could play faster than we could walk, so we basically ended up walking the course. 

At the 19th hole they tried to teach us "golfing etiquette" by explaining that we should have simply stood to one side and waved them through.  They couldn't quite grasp that we are a bunch of idiots who WANTED to pick up our balls. When the truth of this finally dawned on them, they scratched their heads and ordered a double brandy each. 

Next Monday I'm praying for rain.

UMMMM?

Do I write about the evil bastards that have the knowledge of the paedophile rings operating in high places or do I write about the tossers in my local Planning Department.

Well, the current child sexual abuse scandals are far more scary and current - so here goes.

A year after the death of the creepy Jimmy Savile, a TV "personality",  victims who had suffered sexual abuse started telling their stories.  So far they think that he abused in excess of 300 children over a 40 year period and its quite likely that this is merely the tip of the iceberg.

How did he get away with it?  He even had keys to flats at several hospitals where he carried out his sick fantasies. Why was it only after his death that victims to took courage to come forward and tell their tragic stories?   Did he have "friends" in high places of a similar persuasion who protected him?  If so, they should be shamed and exposed to, but here we go again - are  they are so powerful that this will never happen? 

I believe that the BBC has now been skillfully bought into disrepute by reporting the story of a man who claimed that in his youth he was sexually abused by a senior MP whilst in a care home in Wales.  This former MP has vehement denied this but the result has been that BBC Newsnight was taken off air and the Governor General resigned.   A powerful warning to anyone daring to investigate these or any other claims.