They're dropping through the door, landing on the mat. Christmas catalogues, back again, like old friends you thought you'd seen the back of. Stacks of helpful suggestions - all of them crap. Plenty of advice out there but here's some for free.
Gardeners do not want wellies, posh or not. Or trugs. For cut flowers. Nobody needs a trug. Chefs do not want knives. Even knives in bright, colourful blocks. They've got knives, good ones, and yours are cheap and nasty. No.
Mums do not want hoovers, especially robot ones that roar like a Spitfire and miss bits. They do not want blenders, or the coffee machine that he fancies. Get that in the sales. They do not want fat jumpers, cosy socks or hankies, ever. Likewise garden candles, poaching pans - even if Delia did cause a sell-out - racks of spice and mulled wine kits. They do not want anything with OXFAM written on it, unless it's from the kids and they are under ten.
That's it really. Other stuff is fine. Wine, chocolates,, classic silver jewelry and cashmere, as long as it washes. A good bag, not a designer joke that cost the price of a holiday. In fact, scrap all that. Just have the holiday and get away from the mad circus altogether.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Amy Chose Death By Booze
Amy Winehouse had no trace of illegal drugs in her system. Well that's a relief. She's still dead though. The legal stuff did the job just as well. At 27 her fabulous career was felled by booze. An amazing talent lost to binge drinking.
Yet somehow the drugs are the issue. Amy packed them in, so she was "cleaning up her act.' She even gave up the drink, now and then, before treating herself to a slammer session, fully aware of the dangers but past caring.
Alcohol is a killer too. Our kids pay no heed. They like to get hammered. University towns are raking in the living allowance as freshers carry on celebrating. One practice nurse told me of a young man of 33 dying with liver disease who is desperate for a transplant. "We never used to see this in people so young, but it's happening more and more," she said.
He puts his problem down to binge drinking as a student. They don't stay students forever, but old habits don't die. Maybe they think they will settle down later, Maybe not. Alcohol steals some lives and ruins many more. Fact.
Yet somehow the drugs are the issue. Amy packed them in, so she was "cleaning up her act.' She even gave up the drink, now and then, before treating herself to a slammer session, fully aware of the dangers but past caring.
Alcohol is a killer too. Our kids pay no heed. They like to get hammered. University towns are raking in the living allowance as freshers carry on celebrating. One practice nurse told me of a young man of 33 dying with liver disease who is desperate for a transplant. "We never used to see this in people so young, but it's happening more and more," she said.
He puts his problem down to binge drinking as a student. They don't stay students forever, but old habits don't die. Maybe they think they will settle down later, Maybe not. Alcohol steals some lives and ruins many more. Fact.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Alan the Amazing Mummy
Alan the mummy was looking good last night, apart from the odd ear maggot. He was tanned, yes, but the weight loss suited him and the face was definitely his. His soul would recognise it, which was crucial to ancient Egyptians apparently.
Good on the cabbie from Torquay who answered an advert. God knows how that one went. "Terminally ill? Want to be a mummy after death? Call this number," or something like that. He came across as a very nice chap, happy to help the cause of science.
The boffins were thrilled, everything turned out just right. They were convinced this was a step forward. They talked of Alan's rebirth. There even seemed to be a suggestion there could be more of the same.
What! Imagine if we all fancied mummification. Where would they put us? Alan has a roomy fridge, but how many more could be packed in there comfortably? The scientist in charge had a nice line in preserved pigs' trotters. He kept them in his shed. Saved them over years, like a psychopath. Fascinating stuff, but let Alan be the last. Keep the ovens burning!
Good on the cabbie from Torquay who answered an advert. God knows how that one went. "Terminally ill? Want to be a mummy after death? Call this number," or something like that. He came across as a very nice chap, happy to help the cause of science.
The boffins were thrilled, everything turned out just right. They were convinced this was a step forward. They talked of Alan's rebirth. There even seemed to be a suggestion there could be more of the same.
What! Imagine if we all fancied mummification. Where would they put us? Alan has a roomy fridge, but how many more could be packed in there comfortably? The scientist in charge had a nice line in preserved pigs' trotters. He kept them in his shed. Saved them over years, like a psychopath. Fascinating stuff, but let Alan be the last. Keep the ovens burning!
Friday, 21 October 2011
Gaddafi it is then. For sure. Now who's up for the £1m reward? Bound to be plenty of takers. That could cause a bit of bother in a land torn to shreds, but the opposition leaders in Benghazi reckon it's money well spent
Initially there was a bit of tut-tutting at the "summary execution" handed out. "We saw him and shot him!" proved to be a bit stark for the civilised world to stomach. Experts in middle eastern relations wanted Gaddafi hauled to the Hague.
Well welcome to the real world. Times are tough and we can't afford it. Better to pay the lads on the ground a million quid and get the job done than spend years keeping a tyrant holed up in a posh jail while he spouts endlessly to fabulously well-paid lawyers. Takes years to hear their point of view. They even get on the telly.
We've lost patience. Osama set the new trend. Not much effort went into giving him his day in court. Tony Blair and a lot of other schmoozers are breathing a sigh of relief. Just what did go on in that Bedouin tent Tony? Shame we'll never know.
Initially there was a bit of tut-tutting at the "summary execution" handed out. "We saw him and shot him!" proved to be a bit stark for the civilised world to stomach. Experts in middle eastern relations wanted Gaddafi hauled to the Hague.
Well welcome to the real world. Times are tough and we can't afford it. Better to pay the lads on the ground a million quid and get the job done than spend years keeping a tyrant holed up in a posh jail while he spouts endlessly to fabulously well-paid lawyers. Takes years to hear their point of view. They even get on the telly.
We've lost patience. Osama set the new trend. Not much effort went into giving him his day in court. Tony Blair and a lot of other schmoozers are breathing a sigh of relief. Just what did go on in that Bedouin tent Tony? Shame we'll never know.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Libya Free So Stop Shooting
Gaddafi is gone then. At first they said he had been found hiding in a hole in Sirte and had pleaded with his captors; " Don't shoot!" He asked for mercy. As if there was ever any chance of that. This is the man who said he would kill every Libyan rather than relinquish power.
Now his body is viewed on afternoon tv like a small-time cookery slot. He looks like so much red meat. Are we sure it is him? There are scars - some suggest from plastic surgery - but he looks like so many of the fighters that are crowding our screens. Conclusive DNA evidence would provide proof, but will there be enough of him left for the authorities to test?
Interesting that the streets are still full of men. No women out there celebrating this afternoon. Why? Because they insist on firing off victory rounds. Bullets come raining down again. Injuries are common. Has there not been enough bloodshed? Celebrations are right and the time is now, but get the guns off the street boys. They've done their job.
Now his body is viewed on afternoon tv like a small-time cookery slot. He looks like so much red meat. Are we sure it is him? There are scars - some suggest from plastic surgery - but he looks like so many of the fighters that are crowding our screens. Conclusive DNA evidence would provide proof, but will there be enough of him left for the authorities to test?
Interesting that the streets are still full of men. No women out there celebrating this afternoon. Why? Because they insist on firing off victory rounds. Bullets come raining down again. Injuries are common. Has there not been enough bloodshed? Celebrations are right and the time is now, but get the guns off the street boys. They've done their job.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Gok Wan Champion of Cheap Fashion
I love Gok Wan. I've said it. Our house empties when he comes on, because the boys can't stand him. Me, I think he's great. Not because of his styling, which can be a bit iffy in my, admittedly, often frumpy opinion, but because he has a warm heart.
He's kind. He makes the girls feel good. I've heard he can be a horror with the models who find him a bit of a diva, but to your lass in the street he is a fabulous big brother with sharp designer specs and a neat ear ring. He makes them feel like superstars.
Trouble is, he dresses them like Mary Poppins. Last night he had one girl with the complete kit, down to the carpet bag. Thought she might haul a lampstand out of it. Practically perfect in every way. He showed us how to make a fox tail to hang off our handbags - bang on trend, he says. It probably is. I really wouldn't know. I do like the way he champions the cheap stuff though. Bit of a kick in the pants to an industry still happily charging over a grand for a handbag.
He's kind. He makes the girls feel good. I've heard he can be a horror with the models who find him a bit of a diva, but to your lass in the street he is a fabulous big brother with sharp designer specs and a neat ear ring. He makes them feel like superstars.
Trouble is, he dresses them like Mary Poppins. Last night he had one girl with the complete kit, down to the carpet bag. Thought she might haul a lampstand out of it. Practically perfect in every way. He showed us how to make a fox tail to hang off our handbags - bang on trend, he says. It probably is. I really wouldn't know. I do like the way he champions the cheap stuff though. Bit of a kick in the pants to an industry still happily charging over a grand for a handbag.
Monday, 17 October 2011
Gatwick Treats Passengers Like Criminals
Hell on earth! Must have felt like that, stuck on a plane at Gatwick for nine hours waiting for the fog to clear. Imagine the toilets! Everyone worrying about deep-vein thrombosis. The 200 passengers had already come all the way from India. What a total shambles.
One passenger tried to leave but was told it would be illegal and the police brought him back. What was illegal about that? He would have shown his passport. Where was the problem about letting them all off, to stay airside if need be? I'd have unloaded the lot and told them they could hang about for a later plane or make their own way. Instead they were treated worse than cattle.
Once ended up in Diss myself when fog made Heathrow impossible. As in this case the crew ran out of time and another had to be organised. We waited in the plane, on the tarmac in this tiny Kent airport without a coffee machine in sight. So I got up. Walked off. Down the steps and around the plane.
Must have looked a total prat, but I needed to stretch my legs and nobody takes me prisoner. That's what these people were treated like. Criminals. Somebody, somewhere, should get out a great, big cheque book and say a massive sorry.
One passenger tried to leave but was told it would be illegal and the police brought him back. What was illegal about that? He would have shown his passport. Where was the problem about letting them all off, to stay airside if need be? I'd have unloaded the lot and told them they could hang about for a later plane or make their own way. Instead they were treated worse than cattle.
Once ended up in Diss myself when fog made Heathrow impossible. As in this case the crew ran out of time and another had to be organised. We waited in the plane, on the tarmac in this tiny Kent airport without a coffee machine in sight. So I got up. Walked off. Down the steps and around the plane.
Must have looked a total prat, but I needed to stretch my legs and nobody takes me prisoner. That's what these people were treated like. Criminals. Somebody, somewhere, should get out a great, big cheque book and say a massive sorry.
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