Ponderings and Ruminations

Question: when is a holiday not a holiday?

2010-08-26T18:13:00.006+01:00

Answer: When you're running around like a lunatic for a week trying to keep up with 60 teenagers whilst teaching them the gospel!

Ah Venture. I do love it - that is when I don't hate it. It's exhausting and emotionally draining. But it's also joyful and gloriously uplifting.

So, things I've learnt during the past week:

1. "And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times have reached their fulfilment - to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ." Ephesians 1:9-10 taught in a classic memory verse style-e.

2. "You were taught with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness." Ephesians 4:22-24
P.S. You have to sing it to the tune of Aladdin's 'A Whole New World'. It's a less well known memory verse strategy, but a hugely effective one!

3. Paintball is NOT for me. I'd always thought as much but decided I should give it a go before passing judgment. Perhaps I was missing out on something amazing? I wasn't. Unless by amazing you mean painful and tear inducing. I got shot in the head (ouch) which was then compounded by the accidental coming together of a team-mate's gun and the exact spot on my noggin that had just been so violently introduced to paint (double ouch). I decided to bow out and did so ungracefully and inelegantly. But not before I attracted a shot to the thigh that eventually yielded a bruise on such a scale as I'd never seen before and hopefully never will again. despite my lack of enthusiasm for the paintball experience I am strangely proud of that bruise.

4. Dead fish don't dance - more on that story later.

To tweet or not to tweet, that is the question...

2010-06-08T16:34:00.004+01:00

Please don't keel over in shock.

It is indeed I, Giraffe-a-licious, returned from blogging exile. A self-imposed exile I hasten to add. I haven't been deported or anything so sinister.

It's not even really been an intentional exile. Somehow life has got in the way of my communicating my terribly important thoughts with the world... or at least the two or three people that may ever read this.

But I felt compelled to reignite the flame of passion with my dear blog and so here I am. Darling blog, will you take me back? I do hope so.

I begin my return with a question: to tweet or not to tweet? I am fighting the urge to join the seemingly ubiquitous Twitter. Now of course 140 characters is never going to be enough for me to express myself fully but my main concerns are of a rather different nature. By joining the Twitter-sphere am I labelling myself an egotist and a voyeur? The arrogance that anyone would want to read of my comings and goings or musings on life (hold up, I'm writing this ON A BLOG... I think that ship has sailed). OK so I'm already an egotist. But what of this voyeurism? I am in no way a fan of the celebrity culture in which we live these days but I can't deny that my inclination to join Twitter is in no small part due to wanting to 'follow' the likes of Andy Murray and Chris Moyles. It's respectable stalking! Perhaps I can claim it as a form of research into the human condition... that sounds jolly intellectual don't you think?

I turn my dilemma over to you dear readers... or reader... or silent empty vacuum of www.giraffealicious.blogspot.com

Twitter - yea or nay?

Impeccable timing

2009-10-16T17:25:00.005+01:00

I am no longer Hobnob tooth! Cue wild cheering and arm waving!

I am now the proud owner of 'silky-smooth-in-fact-so-much-so-that-my-other-teeth-are-jealous-front-tooth'. Hurrah. Unfortunately I wasn't able to rejoice in the day of tooth beautifying quite as much as I'd have wished.

Not only was October 15th Dentist Day, it also turned out to be school photograph day. Shudder. Now you could be forgiven for thinking that having left school a full 7 years ago I should not ever again have to face the horror of a school photo. I thought similarly. I was wrong. I (apparently foolishly) work in a school and at this school (which shall remain nameless) they like the staff to have their photos taken and stuck on a wall. This alone is enough to cause sleepless nights for an inexperienced admin assistant. But then imagine if you will, that said admin assistant has had a filling on her front tooth at 10am that morning. She has had a local anaesthetic and cannot feel her top lip nor half of her nose. She is finding it impossible to tell whether she's smiling or grimacing. Then merely an hour later stick that poor woman in front of a photographer. Gah.

They took two photos and asked me to choose which I preferred. Two?! In this age of digital cameras surely they could have given me at least 10 attempts to get it right!

Well I hope that they're happy with their mug shot. It's not my wall that it's going to gaze out from for the next year.

I still maintain that mine is a beauty that the camera cannot capture. Such radiance cannot be conveyed in the momentary capsule of time that is contained within a photograph. It must be beheld by the true eye of humanity in order to be discerned and appreciated. And even then you wouldn't believe the number of people who miss it...

Louis shmooey

2009-10-05T19:52:00.009+01:00

I know I'm being manipulated into writing this particular blog entry but unfortunately I just can't bring myself not to.

It's this man's fault:

Gah. Louis Walsh. Once upon a time he was something of a pop svengali - not so much these days mind. But he's still got his judging role on a little known talent show called The X Factor. The mute button is my friend when Louis is on screen but sadly the mute button doesn't prevent the muppet from making absurd decisions when it comes to his acts.

These two scary looking boys are John and Edward.

On Sunday Louis put them through to the final 12 X-Factor acts and as such they will be performing this coming week in the first live show. Let us all hope that it is a one night only affair and that the twins will be unceremoniously disposed of before the competition has really got started.

They are genuinely awful. It is a mystery how they got past the initial auditions let alone into the prestigious final 12. By putting them through Walsh has managed to erase any modicum of credibility that the show may ever have had. But put them through he has. I can't believe that Louis actually thinks that they have any talent - last night he compared them to a pre-fame Boyzone (in fairness this could be accurate but the pop music industry has changed in the last 15 years and you can no longer get away with launching an unprofessional half-baked outfit - which is what Boyzone started out as - and some may argue also finished as!). So unless Mr Walsh has actually lost his mind what is the other option?

Publicity.

And he's got it. TV, radio, newspapers, blogs (ahem)... all decrying his choice and heaping insults upon him. But it's exactly what he wants. A large percentage of people tend to stop watching X-Factor after the initial auditions are over because their motivation for watching is the cringe worthiness of the no-talent contestants. In which case taking John and Edward through to the live shows is actually a master stroke by the annoying Irish one. The no-talent contestant appeal continues! And the public are well and truly aware of it thanks to all this publicity. To which I have now contributed. Sigh.

Excuse me, Mr Williams.

2009-09-23T18:20:00.004+01:00

I'm annoyed. Irked; riled; angered; peeved; irritated; vexed; and any other word that Thesaurus.com desires to throw my way.

The source of my agitation? Mr Robbie Williams.

I would like to state from the outset that in general I've never really had a problem with Robbie. Some of his music is good and he's a first class entertainer. He does have a tendency to come across as a little obnoxious and arrogant at times, but show me an A-list pop star who doesn't!

It's his new single that's got me blogging. It's called Bodies and you can listen to it here.

Musically I think it's a return to form. Very catchy and it's got a good anthemic vibe come the end. But have you heard the lyrics? Here's a slightly abridged transcript for you:

God gave me the sunshine
Then showed me my lifeline
I was told it was all mine
Then I got laid on a ley line
What a day, what a day
And your Jesus really died for me
Then Jesus really tried for me

Bodies in the Bodhi tree
Bodies making chemistry
Bodies on my family
Bodies in the way of me
Bodies in the cemetery
And that’s the way it’s gonna be
All we’ve ever wanted is to look good naked
Hope that someone can take it
God save me rejection
From my reflection
I want perfection

Praying for the rapture
‘Cause it’s stranger getting stranger
And everything’s contagious
It’s the modern middle ages
All day every day
And if Jesus really died for me
Then Jesus really tried for me

Jesus didn’t die for you, what do you want?
(I want perfection)
Jesus didn’t die for you, what are you on?
Oh Lord(Jesus really died for you)
Ohh(Jesus really died for you)
(Jesus really died for you) Ohh

I've bolded the stuff that's causing me a problem. It's obvious that the song is an outworking of all sorts of things that Williams has been thinking about. His interest in spirituality has often been a feature of his songs and I don't believe that he's intending to offend with his lyrics. But offend he does. I'm loathe to use the word offend actually. It's bandied about too often these days and has lost any real meaning. It might be better to say these lyrics upset me.

I'm a Christian. The absolute core of my beliefs is that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, totally God, totally human, absolutely holy and pure, died an horrific and undeserved death in order to take the punishment that I deserve for my disobedience and rejection of God. This is a truth. Jesus died for me. Really. I would have no problem if Robbie was singing that Jesus didn't die for him, if that's how he feels. But it is heart-breaking to hear someone singing at me through the radio that my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ didn't die for me.

This also brings up an interesting situation. Who do I complain to? There's no real reason for me to complain to Williams (other than to correct him!) - he has a right to write and sing what he wants. Freedom of speech and all that. But should radio and TV stations be more responsible in what they are broadcasting? I'm 99% sure that if someone wrote a song denying in such terms something so integral to the Islamic faith, that the media would at the very least think twice before airing it. It is in fact only two lines of the song that truly affront. It would be very easy to edit out - they do it enough with swearing these days. You would be well within your rights to say, "But if it's only two lines then what's the big problem?" but those two lines - "Jesus didn't die for you", "Jesus didn't die for you, what are you on?" are killers. They come at the very end in the most anthemic part of the song and for Christians they have the capacity to cut to the heart.

Robbie's confusion and agnostic predilections are made clear by the fact that whilst he's singing these words the backing vocals are chiming, "Jesus really died for you". He would probably use that as his defence and it does diminish the insult a little. Although until I looked up the lyrics I thought that they were also singing "Jesus didn't die for you" - perhaps a slightly greater quality of diction is all that's required there!

Interestingly I've not heard a single word of complaint to any media outlet but I expect that a lot of Christians find themselves in a similar situation to myself - to whom do I complain? It makes me sad but for now I'll have to make do with responding to Mr Williams in a loud voice each time I hear his song: "Actually Jesus did die for me, thank you very much! Praise the Lord!"

Channel surfing adventures

2009-09-16T17:13:00.004+01:00

The occupation of channel flicking is a largely fruitless and wasteful pastime. Doubly so if you're not the one in control of the remote. My daddy dearest is a consumate channel flicker. Thankfully I've managed to introduce him to the wonder of the on screen TV guide and so reduced the headache inducing constantly changing picture as he moves from one channel to the next without so much as a glance at what he's flicking through.

He's only ever really satisfied once he's found either Trawlermen, Deadliest Catch or How It's Made. But he also enjoys regularly checking British Eurosport (1 and 2) to make sure that he's not missing some random Latvian 125cc motorcycle race. There are many downsides to this strange behaviour but every so often it does provide me with a little gem of entertainment that I would otherwise have been ignorant of. A couple of days ago I was gifted such a nugget.

Aussie Rules ladies and gentlemen. That's what I'm talking about. That bizarre Antipodean sport that thinks it's rugby but better. It isn't. However, it does have a couple of joyous elements that I believe need to be introduced to the rest of the world.

The following video should give you some idea of what I mean. Sadly YouTube was unable to provide me with a simple example of the elements of the game that I am so in awe of. So you'll have to make do with a random fan's System of a Down music mix!

Check out the 'ball-up' (aka Bounce) and the backwards boundary throw-ins. Sadly the video doesn't quite get across the verging on acrobatic nature of an umpire's Bounce. The match I saw this week featured a much better standard of bouncing. But you get the idea. The umpires get all the best stuff to do in this game! We need these rules in British sport - I vote we get both elements put into football forthwith! All in favour?

All I want for Christmas...

2009-09-03T18:33:00.007+01:00

... is not you. Sorry. It is in fact my two front teeth. Thankfully I shall not have to wait until Christmas. Unfortunately I do have to wait until October.

I am currently the proud owner of one and a half front teeth, plus a temporarily attached second half. I woke up at 3am on Tuesday morning to be greeted by a slightly less toothy smile than I'm used to seeing in the mirror. No panic though - this wasn't the first time.

The first time was roughly 6 years ago. That morning there was definite panic from the 18 year old Giraffe-a-licious. In fact I would go so far as to use capitals - PANIC! Half my front tooth was missing and I had visions of spending the rest of my life in such a state. Not my ideal look I must admit. I rang my then boyfriend and with just a smidgen of hysteria in my voice desperately asked, "Will you still love me?" His oh-so-reassuring reply was: "I haven't seen how bad it is yet!" He was not my favourite person that day.

Anyway, to cut a long story a little bit shorter, the dentist worked a minor miracle and from that day til Tuesday my smile has been happily complete. That was when the filling fell off. I made an appointment with my friendly tooth-man but had to spend the intervening 36 hours alternating between being Gappy McGappison and gingerly reattaching the filling to the vacant tooth (this proved surprisingly effective until I tried to eat - or sing at my church prayer meeting!).

Sadly when I did get to see Mr D. Entist he didn't have time to do the proper job. So instead I have some sort of temporary filling which is proving rather annoying. I was eating a Hobnob today and became convinced that it was stuck to my tooth. A glance in the mirror told me that there was no such biscuit on my tooth but that the front of said tooth simply has the texture of a Hobnob. Very reassuring. So I'm stuck with this weird tooth anomaly thing until the 15th October. Lovely.

Thankfully my dentist is much friendlier than this one.

"Incredible, one of the worst performances of my career..."

2009-08-26T11:54:00.006+01:00

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." - Ferris Bueller

He's right you know. Life moves pretty fast. So this is me stopping and looking around for a bit. It has been 4 months, 22 days, 22 hours and 27 minutes since last you heard from me. Not that I have to tell you that, I'm sure you've all been counting. But why the months of silence I hear you cry? Well, life's been moving pretty fast.

I need to start with the big news because all the other news really stems from that: 11 years of M.E. are behind me and no years of M.E. are in front of me! I'm delighted to tell that I have made improvements in leaps and bounds since around November last year. I signed up for The Lightning Process with some lovely people in Suffolk and results have been remarkable. It is one of those things that is often viewed with suspicion by the M.E. community - hardly surprising. In fact when I first started researching it I was one of those cynics. It's a cynicism born of years of either no treatment or utterly ineffective ones and little hope for the future. It's the self-preservation instinct. Many sufferers have had their hopes raised by various promises of 'cures' only to have these dreams come crashing down around their ears. I won't recommend The Lightning Process unreservedly. It was the most difficult thing that I've ever done (and that includes dealing with the loss of the 2007 Rugby World Cup!) and I'm not convinced that every person will cope with it but I can't deny the fact that it's worked for me. This blog is not the place to go into details but feel free to comment leaving your e-mail address if you'd like to hear any more of my thoughts.

So it's all change for Giraffe-a-licious. I have a job! Since June I've been working part time in the office of a local primary school. I'm just coming to the end of the school holidays now so I've got to get my work head back in order but so far so good. Do you know what the best thing is about having a job? Not having to look for a job! Job hunting must be one of the most soul-destroying undertakings in life. Gives me shivers just thinking about it. Ugh.

And finally....

Last week I turned 25. A quarter of a century, as my younger friends have been quick to inform me. So expect an increasingly grumpy blogger in the coming months - old women have that right apparently.

G. Licious vs Hollywood

2009-04-03T14:17:00.003+01:00

If you've had the misfortune to be a regular reader of my blog then you've probably gathered by now that I quite like to watch the odd film. According to the helpful but rather superfluous Labels function provided by Blogger I can tell you that it is currently the 3rd most blogged about topic on Ponderings and Ruminations - tied with TV but just pipping gripes.

I may love films but I can promise you I'm no actress. Can't be doing with all those people looking at me. I might actually be a very skilled thespian, but the world will just have to resign itself to the fact that it will never know.

But it occurred to me the other day that even if I was an outgoing type with all the talent of Judi Dench, the beauty of Jennifer Aniston and the wit of Sandra Bullock I'd probably never be able to be successful. Why? Because I'm a Christian. Now I'm not saying that I wouldn't make it because Christians are discriminated against in the industry (they may or may not be, I haven't a clue) but simply because there would be no roles for me. As a Christian I wouldn't want to swear in a movie and I would be uncomfortable about being in a film that featured sex outside of marriage - let alone actually be in a sex scene! With just those two stipulations I have pretty much blown my chances of a film career. How many films are there these days that I could get involved in? If I became a Christian after having become a successful actor then no doubt it would be possible to pick and choose roles in family friendly projects. But as a newbie trying to get a foot in the door I expect I'd be laughed out of Hollywood.

I don't know exactly what point I'm trying to make (you should all know by now that I'm rather prone to rambling musings!) but it's certainly something worth mulling over don't you think?

P.S. I am aware that I could easily be labelled a hypocrite. After all I watch a lot of films that I've stated that I wouldn't want to be in. But I do think that there's a difference between viewing something and endorsing or promoting it by being in it.

F1 bungle

2009-03-20T17:04:00.004Z

Ooh interesting developments are afoot. I was all set to write a blog decrying the change of scoring system for the new season of Formula One, but apparently I'm not the only one unimpressed by the FIA's decision to crown the driver with the most wins as World Champion rather than the most consistent performer currently rewarded by the scoring system.

The Formula One Teams Association (FOTA) have just announced that they are to officially question the validity of the new system. Opposition has been voiced not only against the system itself but also in protestation at the lateness of the change of plan; the first race of the season takes place in just over a week's time.

It may be a long shot but let's hope that common sense prevails. It seems absurd to me that a driver that won 5 races but failed to finish the other 12 could be World Champion over a competitor with 4 race wins and 13 2nd places to his name. I do despair at not only the ignorance of the people in charge of this sport but also their seeming lack of passion for their product. Mentioning no names of course... but it sounds a bit like Fernie Pecclestone.

That Monday feeling... on a Friday...

2009-03-13T15:54:00.008Z

You've got to hand it to some people; why stick to mediocrity when you have the chance to redefine the term 'dire'?

Today's guilty party? The Haunting in Connecticut.

I mean really, what kind of name is that for a film? It's the equivalent of a Brit making 'The Haunting in Worcestershire'.

Come to think of it, surely Worcestershire has far more fright potential than Connecticut?*

And whilst I'm having a rant, who do Heinz think they're kidding when they say that their 400g Tomato Soup cans contain 2 servings? Servings for small woodland creatures perhaps! Certainly not for grown adults. Wake up Heinz and smell the Trade Descriptions act!

Soup. For one.

* I should probably point out that I haven't actually seen said scary Connecticut film. Nor do I intend to. But that title is definitely enough to justify my 'dire' label.

Dearest Albert

2009-03-11T17:21:00.005Z

I have a new love in my life. Here he is:

Oh wait. That's not exactly right. I was thinking more along these lines:

Ah... much better.

You may have guessed that I've just got back from watching The Young Victoria at the cinema. It's a fairly standard costume drama - the type that I love - but rather heavy on the romance - which I don't usually love. But Prince Albert here won me over. Apparently he's actually some actor sort; goes by the name Rupert Friend, but seeing as there's no way on earth that Mr Friend could ever match up to the lovely Prince Consort, he'll always be Albert to me. Sigh.

#Your looks are laughable...#

2009-02-14T11:27:00.004Z

People of the world - I hate to break it to you, but you're being duped. I ask you, is there anything less romantic than Valentine's Day? A day of mass manipulation by the confectionery, greeting cards, flowers, champagne and retail industries.

These are not the rantings and ravings of a bitter, single woman. Granted, they are the ramblings of a single woman but that is clearly beside the point. I just don't get the whole Valentine's Day hoopla. Surely romance is about spontaneity? Showing someone you love them when they least expect it. Actually it's probably more romantic to find a way to live that shows someone you love them each and everyday.

Do excuse me whilst I take a minute to go and throw up somewhere. (Oh dear, that might just be some bitterness being vomited into the bathroom sink).

Ahem.

My point is that Valentine's Day doesn't come close to meeting either of those criteria. It's not spontaneous and it's not long lasting. It's probably too late for a boycott this time around. But next year, when all those shops try to lure you in with their lovey-dovey window displays and bargain chocolate and wine combo offers, do as the Grange Hill kids once did - "Just say no!"

Snow fever

2009-02-09T15:06:00.005Z

This time last week I was jumping up and down with joy at the sight of the lovely white flakes falling from the sky. I would have been aghast at the very idea that there could be such a thing as too much snow. Yet here I am a week later, fed up of this incessant wintry weather. It was great fun of course. For a while. The snow cat was built. A snow giraffe followed. Next up was a snow fort. And finally an igloo. But I've rather run out of steam and inspiration since then. I'm fed up of having to wear wellies every time I leave the house. I'm annoyed at being unable to drive wherever and whenever I want to. I just got back from a quick trip into town and my trainers appear to have acquired a permanent squelch. My feet are suitably wet and it's horrible and slushy out there. In some ways that's a good thing. Everything is thawing. But the weathermen inform me that a 'winter storm' is on the way. Oh goodie. Just what we need.

Incidentally I also saw a mad woman in town. She was wearing the tiniest denim shorts possible. Yes, she had tights on underneath but they were hardly woolly ones. What's wrong with these people?!

Wet feet make me grumpy. Can you tell?

Three reasons to be cheerful

2009-02-03T15:50:00.011Z

1.) Last week the fastest postman in the country* was witnessed delivering post to my house.

*This title is completely unofficial and the Guinness Book of Records have not yet certified said mail deliverer. But Ernie, who drove the fastest milk cart in the West was never certified either and it didn't do his reputation any harm.

2.) Orange hair can look seriously cool. I would never have thought it but the girl opposite me on the train at the weekend had dyed orange hair and it was undeniably awesome. I fear the effect would not be the same should I attempt such a bold fashion statement.

3.) SNOW! This is Eric.

He's a cat. Just in case you couldn't tell.

Deja vu?

2009-01-26T16:59:00.004Z

Oh Andy. How could you? For the first time in my life I truly believed that it was possible for a Brit to win a Grand Slam title. Much as I loved dear Tim, I was probably deluding myself all those years that I insisted he could win one. Although had Goran Ivanisevic's appointment with destiny not intervened, I still maintain the Wimbledon trophy would have had Tim Henman's name engraved on it in 2001. Although I suspect Pat Rafter might think differently.

Back to the present woe. Out in the 4th round of the Aussie Open to an inspired Spaniard. Deeply disappointing. But we must not get too despondent. Murray didn't become a bad player overnight. He is still supremely talented and probably several years off his peak. Maybe he's just saving it for Wimbledon...

An ode to Downey

2009-01-24T14:59:00.007Z

Readers, I ask you to stand with me and salute the greatness of Robert Downey Jr.

A few years ago I was ready to throttle the man for ruining Ally McBeal's chance of true happiness and forcing the rest of us to endure Jon Bon Jovi as the love interest in the final series of the really quite barking mad TV lawyer show. He played Ally's soulmate, Larry Paul, in series 4 and a simply brilliant combination of actor and script created one of the funniest and wittiest small screen characters of recent years. Then Downey screwed it all up by falling back into the drug problems that had plagued him earlier on in his career. Bye bye Larry, hello dull as ditch water Jovi man, so bland that even the name of his character eludes me.

But credit to Jr. He sorted himself out and these days is at the top of his game.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang? Brilliant.

Goodnight, and Good Luck? Top notch.

Zodiac? Excellent.

Iron Man? Joyous.

The icing on the cake? An Oscar nomination this week for his role in Tropic Thunder. Now I haven't seen the aforementioned film and I don't actually intend to. Despite being a card carrying member of the Robert Downey Jr fan club, I have no desire to see the Ben Stiller war movie spoof. I'm sure that its core demographic find it hilarious but it's just not my cup of Earl Grey. Nevertheless I can still appreciate the Academy's sense of humour in giving Downey's Kirk Lazarus a nod. Never mind that it's in the category of Best Supporting Actor where Heath Ledger is a shoo-in for the statue, credit to the stuffed shirts for recognising a comedic role. RDJ won't (and shouldn't) get it this time round but if he keeps up his current run of form in both blockbuster and indie roles then surely it won't be long before a little gold man turns up on his doorstep.

Here I go again...

2009-01-19T14:14:00.004Z

I watched Mamma Mia yesterday. I'd somehow managed to avoid it up until that point. I can't say that I was greatly looking forward to the ordeal, but my mum received it as a birthday present and the chances of Dad watching it with her were slim to none so I stepped up to the plate!

It's important for you to know that in theory I should be one of Mamma Mia's biggest fans. I'm a musicals freak. Mary Poppins; Moulin Rouge; Evita; Hairspray; Seven Brides for Seven Brothers; My Fair Lady; I love them all. I maintain that the world would be a much greyer place if people weren't able to randomly burst into song whenever the feeling takes them.

I also love Abba. Rarely has there been a group or band responsible for so many impossibly catchy hit songs. I'll Abba karaoke it up with the best of them!

So why my dread of Mamma Mia? I can't quite put my finger on it, but its huge popularity amongst middle-aged women made me faintly uneasy and the trailer certainly didn't help matters. Don't ask me how they did it but somehow they made an Abba loving musicals fan shudder at the merest mention of their film. Quite a skill.

But after all that I still sat down and watched it with my dear old mum. And yes, it is awful. Hideous. Terrible. A crime against cinema. And yet...

It's funny. Not necessarily always in the way that it intends to be. But by and large the cast and crew seem to be in on the joke. Pierce Brosnan can't sing to save his life and Colin Firth isn't much better but that just makes the whole endeavour all the more hilarious. It's utterly silly and allows people to be silly whilst they watch it. I'm convinced that's why that multitude of middle-aged women flocked to see it again and again. It's the very definition of escapism.

So kudos to the makers. They have triumphed with a product unworthy to even sit on steps outside the pantheon of great musicals and yet glorious in it's own ridiculous way.

Doctor New

2009-01-05T17:58:00.008Z

I was not amused on Saturday to discover that the BBC were doing a big unveiling of the new Doctor. Perhaps I'm just old-fashioned but I'd liked to have found out the Time Lord's new identity when Tennant regenerated. I suppose it would have been impossible for it to have been kept a secret for that amount of time, but it's still a bit strange for everyone to be talking about a Doctor that we won't see on screen for almost a year.

Grumbling aside I am optimistic about Mr Matt Smith. For a start, credit to him for sticking with one of the least exciting names in the history of naming.

He may be young (26 apparently) but Tennant always seemed a great deal younger than his 37 years - I think Cliff Richard must have let my dear David in on the secret of seemingly eternal youth!

Most encouraging of all is the fact that I'd already had my beady eye on Smith. Anyone who caught the Beeb's Ruby in the Smoke or The Shadow in the North should have singled him out for potential greatness. He played a character full of charm, quirkiness and charisma - it may as well have been his Doctor Who calling card.

So thumbs up to the BBC. For now. I'm still worried about the rumours surrounding the casting of the new companion. Lily Allen? Please no. The producers should have the guts to cast another relative unknown. The programme has enough of a following these days, the Beeb mustn't cave in to the commercial demands of a 'name' or 'face'.

Oh and the new Doc's hair? The jury's out.

Hello 2009!

2009-01-02T16:05:00.011Z

I am a bad blogger. It's been weeks, nay months since last you heard from me. I apologise profusely and declare that my New Year's resolution shall be to be less of neglectful of my little piece of the internetty-webby-world.

A year ago I made a few predictions. Let's see how I fared shall we?

Well I think we can all safely agree that Leona Lewis did indeed conquer the US charts in 2008. Both Bleeding Love and her debut album Spirit went to No 1. Points to me. And her obviously.

Andy Murray went one better than I predicted. I said he'd be in a Grand Slam semi-final. He got to the final of the US Open. He may have run out of puff when he came up against Federer in that match but Murray's got to be a pretty good bet for a full on Grand Slam title this year.

Team GBs Olympic golds came from sailing, cycling and... ok, not equestrianism, but two out of three ain't bad. I can safely admit that I never would have predicted the eventual swimming success though.

No new leader for the Lib Dems. Maybe this year? When I say Vince, you say Cable! VINCE! "CABLE!"

Re: the popularity of the TV channel Dave. Strangely enough I don't have easy access to recent audience share figures. Even more strangely, I don't intend to spend hours trawling the net to find such statistics for you. Can you survive? I do hope so.

Sadly my predictions seem to be getting a little less accurate as we go along. Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull came in 2nd in the global box office stakes, over $200 million behind The Dark Knight. I'm pleased I was wrong in backing the well-hatted one. The Dark Knight is a fantastic piece of film-making. Indy was fun but flawed.

And so we come to my final prediction. 12 months ago I was convinced that "both David Tennant and Jonny Wilkinson will become single, fall in love with your favourite blogger (that's me, right?) and fight some sort of contest (the format of which has yet to be decided) in order to win her affections."

Ho hum. Maybe next year?

Danny who?

As Meatloaf never said, "Two out of three is bad."

2008-11-02T13:11:00.008Z

I hope it's not true that woes come in threes. I'm currently on two.

1.) David Tennant has announced that he will be leaving Doctor Who.

A loud cry of "Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!" echoed through the house following my learning of this via BBC News. Although I wasn't entirely surprised I was nevertheless rather distraught for the remainder of the evening. Tennant is The Doctor. Christopher Eccleston did a great job in revitalising the show but Tennant has inhabited the character for far longer and made it utterly his own. At least it's not a retirement with immediate effect. The gangly, mad-eyed but charming one will film four specials to be shown during 2009 before a new Doctor steps into those huge shoes for the 2010 series. I shall relish and delight in every moment of Doctor-y Tennant-ness remaining.

2.) I watch X-Factor. I'm not proud of this fact, but fact it is. I usually pride myself on my ability to cover up this sordid secret. Sadly today I must break my cover in order to rant about the stupidity of the British public. Before you ask, no I didn't vote but I won't hear any of that, "if you don't vote then you can't complain" malarkey. That may be true of politics and elections, but don't try and make it stick for TV talent shows.

Last night one of the most talented acts in the whole competition got voted out. Here he is:

Austin Drage. Awesome voice. Tons of potential. But he gets beaten by a number of vastly inferior acts. To be fair, this year's X-Factor is probably one of the strongest talent wise. But his leaving the competition so early is absurd. Perhaps it's that classic case of Joe Public assuming that the exceptionally talented ones are safe and giving their vote to the underdogs instead. Bah. He had Cowell as his mentor. Here's hoping that he gives him a chance after the show.

So as I say, I'm desperately hoping that bad things don't come in threes. Lewis Hamilton is racing for the World Championship tonight...

Oh I do like to muse beside the seaside

2008-10-16T21:01:00.004+01:00

I'm on holiday at the moment. But as I take a break from my busy schedule of relaxing and eating chips, chocolate and cake, I'd like to share a couple of thoughts with you.

Firstly, wouldn't it be funny (strange rather than haha) if everyone in the world (or perhaps just country would be more realistic) had to have a unique first name. That is, only one individual could bear any particular name. Only one Anna. One Sally. One Tullulabelle. I do think it would make life more interesting and parents more imaginative. Of course once someone with any given name died then the name would be open for use again. There would have to be some sort of rolling death name register!

Secondly - and I'm convinced that both every motorsport fan and non-petrol head will be with me on this - Formula One could be made a lot more interesting if another race took place at the same time. On the same track. In the other direction.

Toodle-pip for now.

Peter comma Blue

2008-10-12T23:02:00.006+01:00

You know you're old when policemen/doctors/weathermen (delete as applicable) start to look young...

It's a well known saying and there is more than a modicum of truth in it. However I'd like to throw another hat into the "You know you're old when..." ring.

You know you're old when you don't recognise a single Blue Peter presenter.

I caught the end of a show on BBC2 yesterday that was celebrating 50 years of the Beeb's flagship children's programme. I loved Blue Peter as a kid. Actually I rather loved it as a teenager too. And I hope that one day I'll love it as a parent of a kid that loves it!

I am the proud owner of two Blue Peter badges. Sadly not the exciting shield shaped ones that you get it you actually appear on the show. Mine are lowly competition winners' badges. I was a runner-up in a seat belt safety campaign poster competition and also a photography one. My sister still harbours a grudge. How dare I have two when she never won one? Come to think of it, I think they stopped producing the badges a while back because people were flogging them on ebay. It's a sad world.

Every British kid belongs to a particular generation of Blue Peter viewers and has memories of specific presenters. For me it begins with what must have been the very back end of Mark Curry's tenure (he left in 1989). Following on from him in chronological order we have... Caron Keating, Yvette Fielding, John Leslie, Diane-Louise Jordan, Anthea Turner, Tim Vincent, Stuart Miles, Katy Hill, Roman D'Annunzio (can't say she made much of an impression but I do remember the way she was introduced... something to do with a cafe, milkshake serving type thing), Richard Bacon, Konnie Huq and Simon Thomas. 1999 must have been when I finally stopped watching it - I was 15!

I dipped in and out of it for a few years after and but I'm convinced that the best Blue Peter presenter I've been alive to see is Matt Baker. He rocked up in the middle of 1999 and whenever I caught the show he always stood out. Gymnast; dog lover; regionally accented; engaging and unpatronising - perfect Blue Peter material.

But I digress. What scared me yesterday was the shot of the 3 current Blue Peter presenters. I didn't recognise a soul. To be fair, two of them are mere baby presenters. According to the all-knowing Wikipedia, they only joined at the end of September. But the other chap has been there for 2 years. So it is with regret that I must declare myself old and past it. No matter, I shall simply wallow in memories of past glories; of Tracy Islands, pancake mishaps and retro totalisers! Good times.

LA - I may need rehab

2008-10-09T23:17:00.005+01:00

#You must remember this, a list is still a list...#

I feel that it is time for a list update. You may remember almost a year ago...

*cue wibbly wobbly time going backwards visual effect*

It was the 29th October 2007. Your heroine was wading through Charles Dickens's Bleak House. The chances of her finishing said book were looking slimmer and slimmer every day. Drowning in a sea of Jarndyce and Jarndyce and her dreams haunted by Mrs Dedlock, this blogger was in a sorry state. The outlook was as bleak as the house of Mr Dickens's conjuring.

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

The book twas finished and returned to the library from whence it came! Joy broke out and small children were heard to celebrate for Miss G. Licious had completed her troublesome task. The 56th book had been concluded.

*cue fast forwarding fuzzy visual effect*

But now the calendar reads 9th October 2008. What progress has our heroine made? The list now stands at 74 read. The magic three quarter mark beckons and only 400 pages stand between her and it. 400 pages of a 1400 page book. Vikram Seth has certainly set this writer a lofty challenge. But she has learnt from her previous mistakes. She ploughs on through the twisting, turning, twining plot and will not be distracted from her goal. No doubt joy of a hitherto unseen degree shall break forth when she turns the final page of A Suitable Boy.

P.S. You may be interested to know that A Suitable Boy is a much easier read than Bleak House. Just in case you find yourself standing in a library forced to make that decision.

When I grow up...

2008-10-02T23:32:00.006+01:00

What happened to kids wanting to be firemen and astronauts? These days if you ask a child what they want to be when they grow up then you're likely to get the answer; "Famous". Even in my day the answer would be more along the lines of, "a pop star" or "an actress". Now it's simply fame that they're after, no matter where that fame comes from.

It's a sad world. Even sadder when people start singing songs about it. Yes, Pussycat Dolls, I'm talking to you. Now don't you go trying to hide behind all that make-up, I can still see you. Quite frankly I can see far too much of you.

"Now I've got a confession

When I was young I wanted attention

And I promised myself that I’d do anything

Anything at all for the boys to notice me"

Well that's just a lovely example to set for young girls isn't it? If you want attention, then get it from boys - by any means necessary.

"But I ain't complaining

We all wanna be famous"

Er, I hate to rain on your parade but no we don't. In fact I often find myself wondering who in their right mind would want all the baggage that fame brings. Your every move followed, analysed and critiqued by utter strangers; your dirty laundry aired on 24-hour news channels; betrayal by people you once considered friends; oh yes, we all want that don't we?

"When I grow up

I wanna see the world

Drive nice cars

I wanna have groupies"

OK, so I'll give you travelling the world and driving nice cars, but groupies? Seriously? Deranged, sycophantic would-be stalkers obsessed with your every word and action? Right.

"But be careful what you wish for

'Cause you just might get it

But you just might get it

But you just might get it"

Ah, a disclaimer. Hello young impressionable children, you want all this exciting fame stuff don't you... oh yes... it's wonderful... oh and just so that you can't blame us when your life starts falling to pieces in your pursuit of fame, you can't say we didn't warn you. Remember the hook in When I Grow Up? No? Oh silly you... must have been blinded by all those cars, the glitz and glamour.

In conclusion: Kids, astronauts are way cool.

Paul Newman

2008-09-30T23:07:00.002+01:00

I was saddened to hear of the death of Paul Newman over the weekend, as I'm sure were many others. The man seems to have been a true gentleman and I reckon you don't find a whole lot of those in Hollywood.

If you've never seen a Newman film then I suggest that you rectify that forthwith. I know that a lot of people turn their noses up at old films these days (heathens!) but there are some true gems out there. Chances are that you won't be able to find them in your local Blockbuster but if you're signed up with an online rental company then they should be easy to get hold of and if not, just take a gamble and buy one from Ebay or Amazon. I heartily recommend The Sting as your starting point. It's a joyous film; one of my all-time favourites. Newman and Redford have brilliant buddy chemistry, the plot is clever and the feel-good factor enormous. If you like that then Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid should be your next stop. You may have guessed that I have a bit of a thing for the Redford-Newman combo.

Personally my next port of call is Cool Hand Luke. It's one of Newman's most iconic roles and it has taken me far too long to get round to seeing it.

Frank Sinatra may be the official 'Ole Blue Eyes' but I'll take Paul Newman anyday.

I shop... markets don't drop...

2008-09-24T22:51:00.012+01:00

I'm on a one woman mission to sort out the world economy. My weapon of choice? Shopping.

Selflessly I am giving up my worldly savings in order to get this recession off our backs. I started today. In Next. I won't pretend that it started out as a international plan of fiscal and monetary responsibility. I just rather liked the coat. And the slippers. And the jeans. And well you get the picture. But somewhere along the way I realised that my shopping was in fact making a hugely useful contribution to society. Economics 101: people buying things = people making/selling/transporting things = jobs = a growing economy of happiness.

So that's my plan. I hope that you all appreciate the lengths that I am going to in order to help others. I'm off to HMV.

P.S. This is not a picture of me. I do not own a 'so-small-it-may-as-well-be-a-rat-dog'. Nor am I so thin that I'm in danger of disappearing when I turn sideways. Thank you.

Been a long time...

2008-09-17T23:17:00.005+01:00

Boo!

Ha. Did I scare you?

It's been very quiet around here for far too long.

I wanted to come back with a bang but I fear that it is like to be more of a pathetic mewing noise. No matter, I shall continue undeterred for I know how long you've all been holding your collective virtual breath, just waiting for Miss G. Raffe Alicious to end her silence.

So a few things to get off my chest.

1.) I turn my back on my blog for a couple of months and what happens? The country, nay the world goes into economic meltdown. Good grief. Banks are being bailed out. Stock markets are in panic. Banks are merging. Politicians are back-stabbing (although that's nothing new). Unemployment is rising. The Liberal Democrats are conferencing (not quite so interesting that bit). I can't read a paper or turn on a TV without hearing about the credit crunch or mortgage rates or investment bankers or A. N. Other huge company I've never heard of going into receivership. Perhaps I should be reading The Sun and watching Channel 5? My friends and fellow citizens of the world, I have the solution: STOP PANICKING! I'm convinced that we're talking ourselves into a far deeper recession than we'd otherwise have experienced. Please note that this is coming for a certified expert on the subject. That's not just any A-level I have, it's an Economics A-level.

2.) Finally a reality concept that I can get on board with - the Revels Eviction. Oh joy! It appears that no longer shall we have to face the horrors of the Coffee Revel! Please excuse me as I take this moment to do a little victory dance.

My victory dance has been sadly cut short by a rumour that they plan to replace said evil coffee flavoured confectionery with a mint creme centred creation. Now I nothing against mint per se
but it does have a terribly unfortunate habit of contaminating everything else that it comes into contact with. I fear a world of minty-orange revels, minty-caramel revels, minty-raisined revels and the like may be upon us. Oh the humanity!

3.) Weather people - I know that it is cruel to accuse them of inaccuracies, meteorology is a rather inaccurate science (or so I'm told) but honestly could they not just hold off on their declarations of 'an Indian summer is coming - get out your sunglasses!'. Indian summer? Indian summer my foot. I was wearing three layers of clothing today AND a scarf - inside! I mean I've never been to India but I'm pretty sure that's not what they wear in their summer.

And finally, I feel moved to utter a few cheers for certain individuals who have made a favourable impression on me over the last few months of blog inactivity.

Giraffe-a-licious salutes:

Andy Murray, for his wonderful run to the US Open final
Chris Hoy, for his 3 Olympic gold medals
In fact, I salute every British Olympic and Paralympic Gold Medallist (and some of the non-gold medallists too for that matter).
The Script, for their wonderful debut album
Christopher Nolan, for making the quite simply brilliant Dark Knight.
ITV4, for buying the rights to and showing the Guinness Premiership Rugby Highlights.

Boo Tyra Boo!

2008-07-24T18:27:00.005+01:00

I'm pretty sure that each and every one of us has their own trashy TV secret. You know, a show that is low on quality but high on addiction factor? Mine is America's Next Top Model. Currently showing in the UK on Living, (at 9am and 6pm) ANTM as it's known, has been threatening to take over my life. It's on everyday. There have been at least 9 series. I keep getting to the end of a series and thinking, "Surely that must be the most recent one". But no, the next day they start all over again! I'm stuck in a cycle of trashy TV hell. Or should that be heaven?

Well today I wasn't quite so happy as I indulged in my now not-so-secret guilty pastime. Let's get something straight - I can deal with the skinny model thing. I may not be happy about it but it's pretty much a fact of life. The cool thing is that recently there has been greater move towards plus-sized models. ANTM has reflected that (although there is an argument that it has merely added a token plus-sized model to each series). But token or not, at least they're there. The series I'm currently watching (that's series 9, fact fans) is no exception. It features a lovely girl called Sarah. Now it just so happens that Sarah started losing some weight once she moved into the model house. She wasn't intending to, it just happened. This is where it gets ridiculous. The judges expressed their concern that she was now not big enough to work as a plus-sized model but nor was she skinny enough to be an average skinny model. What the heck?

So now size-ism has taken a new and twisted direction... if you're skinnier than the average woman then you can model; if you're bigger than the average woman then you can model; if you fall somewhere between the two and are in fact the size of an average woman then au revoir, arrivederci and goodbye! Bonkers.

Let the sunshine in

2008-07-15T14:25:00.005+01:00

Finally! The sun is back - for the moment at least. I'm making the most of its most likely short lived stay by tapping this out in the back garden. The sun is shining, my bones are warming and I can barely read the screen due to the brightness of the aforementioned star.

There's no question that I feel better during the warmer months. Who knows why, but the warmer it is, the less pain I get. There is a bit of a trade-off involved - the heat is good for my aches but does tire me out fairly quickly. Still, I shall not moan for we have seen too little in the way of solar rays this June and July. Roll on August I say!

A mere 24 days to go now until the Olympics! Tell me, why have I arranged to be away with a group of 14-18 year olds for 10 precious days of the competition? Well it's a combination of stupidity and zeal for the gospel. If anyone asks, I will be focusing on the latter! Whatever events I do manage to catch, I hope that they don't involve Dwain Chambers. Chambers finds out on Thursday if his High Court case against the British Olympic Association's lifetime Olympic ban has been successful. I'm with the BOA on this one. He cheated. He admits he cheated. If he says sorry then I hope that the majority of people will forgive him. However, forgiving someone and allowing them to compete in an event that they have brought into disrepute are two very different things. In my mind, if you take illegal performance enhancing drugs then you forfeit the right to continue on in that sport, no matter how sorry you are. Chambers knew the rules and yet still broke them. He was in no way ignorant of the BOA's stance on drug cheats. He shouldn't be going to Beijing. Ironically this is quite the metaphorical storm in a tea cup. Chambers has as much chance of getting a medal next month as I do of marrying Jonny Wilkinson. Actually, he probably has less chance - my charms are not inconsiderable!

They want to ride their bicycles...

2008-07-03T11:27:00.004+01:00

Poor little blog. I think it feels neglected. This past week it has been rejected in favour of tennis and studying. Perhaps I should buy it some flowers.

It's not like I didn't give due warning though! Pretty much everything goes by the way side during Wimbledon fortnight. Anyhow, my first OU assignment has been submitted, Andy Murray is out of the Championships and rain is threatening. It seems like a pretty good time to make a comeback and give some much deserved TLC to Ponderings and Ruminations.

So what's been getting my goat recently? So many rants, so little time. From the serious (Mugabe, the C of E, the British government) to the mundane (cyclists and cinema adverts) - most things have the capacity to turn me into a grumpy old woman. Cyclists are my most recent nemesis and it being summer, they've all come out of the woodwork. It's such a hassle trying to pass them. I have to make sure that I don't knock them over, that I don't hit a car coming in the other direction, that I don't lunge for their water bottles when it's a particularly hot day. I'm all for environmentally friendly transport - just not when it gets in my way! So to cap it all, where has my younger sister decided to move to? Cambridge - land of cyclists! No doubt I'll be visiting quite regularly and that can only end well! Oh how I continue to long for the day that teleportation becomes reality. It's been months since I asked those scientists to get cracking on it. Slackers.

Henman and a hen party

2008-06-23T14:56:00.008+01:00

It's Monday! It's the last week of June! It's Wimbledon baby!

Ahem.

Apologies for that tennis related outburst of joy. I just love these two weeks of the year. I get everything that needs to be done out of the way in the mornings and then settle down for some glorious afternoons of sport. This year I shall mostly be supporting... Rafael Nadal, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray, Mario Ancic and Jelena Jankovic. Plus of course all those plucky unseeded Brits that make Wimbledon so special, for the first week at least!

This is of course the first Wimbledon in 14 years not to feature Tim Henman in the draw. The legend retired last year and although it is of course sad for such a career to come to its end, there is also a part of me that is relieved not to be faced with the prospect of another emotionally draining Henman epic. Much as I like Andy Murray, he doesn't inspire quite the same amount of heartache. Henman is of course not entirely absent from SW19, he's joined the BBC commentary team. I say team, it's more like a squad these days. Just how many commentators does a broadcaster need? Before I move away (no doubt only temporarily) from my Wimbledon love affair, I should probably stick my neck out and make a prediction. So here goes: Nadal for the men's title and Ivanovic for the women's.

I had a lovely day on Saturday at a friend's hen party. Despite not knowing most of the girls there I still had a great day. We went to a craft place and painted ceramics, had lunch in a little tea-rooms and then headed back to the bridesmaids' house for more food, chat and a DVD. It struck me as to how much more enjoyable it was than any pub'n'club crawling hen night. I think it's sad that it appears to be the norm these days for hen parties to be accompanied by drunken antics and hangovers. Ladies, I say we vote no to this 'new' way of celebrating and revert back to the good old days. I mean honestly, can anything beat a good cup of tea, a piece of cake and a natter? I rest my case.

Science-y sport stuff!

2008-06-10T12:12:00.004+01:00

Give me an O! O! Give me a U! U! Give me a... oh wait, that's it actually. I am officially an Open University student and I'm strangely excited about it. It's been almost 6 years since I last did any form of studying but I think I'm ready to get back on the bike. At least I hope it's a bike, if it's a horse then I'm doomed because I never learnt to ride one of them.

I made the decision not to dive headlong into one of the 9 month courses. That was my mistake 6 years ago which led to my M.E. enforced withdrawal from the OU after only a couple of months. Instead I am doing what they call an Openings course. It's only 5 months, with less pressure and more focus on getting back into studying, both practically and mentally. There are a wide variety of Openings subjects available but I have chosen this one.

Sport! Woohoo! I honestly think that this course was actually created for me! I'm particularly excited about the science-y aspect of it (although I don't think they'll be too impressed if I use the word 'science-y' in any of my assignments). I have a huge gap in my general knowledge where science should be. Having to leave school at 13 meant that my science education stopped right there. Although I managed to get English and Maths GCSEs and an Economics A-level, they aren't much use when it comes to explaining why plants are green or the moon can sometimes be seen during the day. Actually, I know that the green plant thing is chlorophyll (but I did have to stop myself from writing chloroform just then!). Now I'm not saying that a sports course is going to help me out with those scientific conundrums in particular, but it should be nice and informative about the biology of the body and nutrition etc.

Here's hoping that this is the start of an exciting scientific odyssey!

"So what do you do?"

2008-06-03T00:17:00.004+01:00

I hate that question. It's the king of small talk questions. It's quite a strange one really. The vast majority of people don't seem to enjoy their work and yet it's the topic that always seems to end up being discussed. Society defines people by their jobs. I suppose it's because we spend so much of our lives working.

Whatever the reasons for the popularity of the question, I still hate it. I know exactly why I have such a problem with it. It's because I don't have a job! There's no easy answer available to me. Just saying, "I'm unemployed" doesn't cover it but giving a decent explanation takes far more time than the questioner really wants to spend on the topic!

For some reason I always begin my answer with, "Well, it's a bit complicated I'm afraid...". I'm pretty much apologising for the awkwardness of my answer from the get go! On the upside it has become a little easier over the last few years as far more people are aware of M.E. as a real illness. Whereas 5 years ago I used to get vacant looks from small talk perpetrators, at least nowadays I get an, "oh yes, my brother's wife's second cousin has that". Although that can actually cause more problems in itself. At least the ignorant usually knew they were ignorant. These days everyone is an expert.

Following on from the apology, my well-rehearsed answer to the evil question usually takes the road of ill 10 years-dropped out of school-no uni-can't work-do voluntary stuff when I can. I'm not one to brag but I like to think that I've refined it to a near perfect answer after all this time! I do the 'I'm struggling on through head-nod' - copyright G.Licious - and smile understandingly to let the question poser know that they don't have to be embarrassed. But let me make it clear (at least in this blog, if not to the big wide world); just because I can answer the question, doesn't mean I have to like doing it!

Irony

2008-05-27T20:34:00.003+01:00

You may have noticed that I've signed up with Adsense. Just thought I'd try it out for a while. Sadly I perceive a flaw in the 'only ads relating to your blog' theory. So far I have ads for random Christian sects who believe things that are light years away from my faith and for SATs revision techniques and download-able test papers. I am therefore advertising two products which I would dearly love to see disappear into a particularly large dustbin: dodgy theology and pointless exams. Sigh.

'Go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel...'

2008-05-26T12:32:00.007+01:00

Some days I feel compelled to throw rocks at the Church of England. Today is such a day.

According to The Daily Telegraph's front page report a row has broken out within the Church regarding evangelism to Muslims. The Bishop of Rochester, the Rt Rev Michael Nazir-Ali has voiced concerns that not enough is being done to bring people of other faiths to Christianity. In response, other church leaders have criticised him for failing to show sensitivity to those following non-Christian religions.

This whole debacle has left me pretty gob-smacked. Follow my logic: Christians believe that the bible is God's true and complete word (don't get me started on 'Christians' who don't believe that!). Within that Word is what is known as The Great Commission, given by Jesus to his disciples following his death and resurrection and just before he ascended into heaven.

'Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him they worshipped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age."' Matthew 28: 16-20

'Go and make disciples of all nations'. Not 'go and make disciples of the nations that haven't got their own religion. Please don't step on any toes.' All nations. I think that's pretty clear!
And why are Christians supposed to do this? Because 'whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned'. Mark 16: 16. Christians are called to spread the gospel out of love. Because of our longing for everyone to be saved from God's righteous judgement that is surely coming. I find it crazy that someone would be offended by my telling them about Jesus Christ because I am concerned for their eternal destiny. If someone of another faith evangelised to me in such a way - "I'm telling you this because I care about you and as such have a duty to tell you what I believe" - then I wouldn't be aghast at their arrogance. I would listen and thank them for their concern. I know that it wouldn't change my beliefs but neither would I have a paddy about their intolerance for my religion.

The largest misconception (clearly present in the Telegraph's report) appears to be that the idea that Christians want to evangelise to Musims because we see Islam as a threat to culture and religion. I can't speak for all Christians but I for one want to evangelise to all people (Muslims, Hindus, Jehovah's Witnesses, atheists, agnostics and everyone in between) in order that they might be saved by Jesus Christ and have assurance of a wonderful and eternal life with the Lord after our time on this earth is over.

There is no problem with debate over religion. It is natural and necessary. For some reason this country in particular has become afraid of such discussion. Why can't Christians be bold and tell the world of the amazing sacrifice made for us and of the limitless grace and mercy that God has for his children?

Slopes and SATs

2008-05-14T14:06:00.009+01:00

I hate hills. Or to be more specific; I hate slopes. Hills I just don't bother with. There's no point in trying. Slopes are deceptive. They don't look all that different from friendly flat ground. They lie! The difference they make is ridiculous. I genuinely think that it is at least 10 times more difficult for me to walk a slope than a stretch of bog standard, lovingly tarmacked pavement. I went to the library today; parked me car; walked down the small slope; did my library thang and walked back up said slope. Gah. It's hardly a steep incline but it was enough for my legs to scream and the rest of my body to give up on me for a few minutes. When I rule the world, I shall make everything flat. Well, maybe we can keep some pretty mountains but I'll need to get escalators installed. Although thinking about it, standing up for a long time will still be a problem. Darn it! My amazing plan has failed at the first hurdle.

No matter, I have a new project: the abolition of Sats. For any Americans reading I should clarify that British SATs are not the same as US SATs. I'm not entirely sure what American SATs are (I only have TV and films to go by - they seem to be some sort of test taken before you go to college or university) but they are most definitely different from the British version. SATs are tests taken by kids in England and Wales at the ages of 7, 11 and 14. They are taken in Science, Maths and English and are in theory designed to assess the level of attainment that each child has reached. In practice SATs have become less and less about the children and more and more about each school's position in the national league tables.

I agree that children should be continually assessed and tested up to a point. However, I don't believe that SATs are the way to do that and I certainly have problems with the pressure that schools put on pupils in order to reach their targets. My biggest quibble is with the Key Stage 3 exams taken at the age of 14. They appear to be utterly pointless. Once a child gets to secondary school he or she is given exams in almost every subject at the end of every single year. That is important and necessary; examinations from within the school help teachers to identify problem areas and individuals that are struggling. SATs are useless for this. The teachers don't set the questions nor do they mark the papers. I do not know if the papers are made available to teachers after marking but either way the SATs tests do nothing to improve the teachers' awareness of each child's standard of work.

The SATs system does also include teacher assessments. That's great, but it still doesn't give a real argument for the tests. GCSE and A level results can be used to distinguish the good schools from the bad. SATs results are unnecessary. Teachers end up teaching their pupils how to do well in the exams rather than using that time to inspire young minds. Children are given the impression that these exams are incredibly important when in actual fact they are insanely trivial.

This has all been brought to my mind by the reports in the media that MPs from the Commons School Select Committee are calling for the tests for 11 and 14 year-olds to be scrapped. Hurrah! Sad to say it will probably be a long time before anything is actually done about it, but at least someone has started to take notice. SATs are a waste of time, money and teachers.

A cut above the rest

2008-05-07T14:53:00.006+01:00

I had a haircut today. Not usually a blog worthy event, but the last time I took a trip to see the hairdresser was in September! It occurs to me that the length of my hair can give you a rough idea of what state I'm in health-wise. Here's a handy cut out and keep guide*:

If it's exceptionally long then this is either indicative of a good period of health or of a horrific relapse. Bear with me here! If I'm doing well then I tend to fill my time with things more important/more fun than a haircut - hence the length. However the excess hair can also be a result of being too ill to get to a salon (N.B. I know that salon sounds absurdly over the top but I've already said hairdresser's one too many times).

If my hair is mid-length (i.e. just cut) you can be pretty sure it's because I'm in the process of recovering from a relapse. I'm well enough to get a haircut (which I desperately need because it's exhausting to wash long hair) but not up to doing anything more fun!

Should you struggle to work out which type of long hair you are faced with then simply take a brief look at my skin tone. If I look like Dracula's ailing sister then you can be pretty sure it's the relapse enforced type.

*guide may not actually be cut out and kept.

Ain't that just the way

2008-04-30T11:37:00.005+01:00

I've been rather absent from my blog recently. I think it's due to a combination of illness and a lack of inspiration. I've been rather up and down health wise in the last couple of weeks. Things were looking really good for a bit; I was operating at a fairly steady level of activity. It was then that I made my mistake. I started to plan stuff. Why, oh why, oh why (hello Points of View correspondent) is it that as soon as I start to make plans my health goes down the pan? I'm not talking huge, global domination-esque schemes - just a weekend away; a rugby match; a trip to see a comedian; a wedding. All of which were organised sensibly with time in between for recovery. Bah. Well watch me spit in your face M.E., because I've managed the rugby match - 1 down, 3 to go. It does mean that I'm Resty Resterson as at the moment. Resting at 12 Resting Lane, Resttown, Restingshire, RE5 TIN.

I'm blaming Scotland for a lot of stuff at the moment. I'm seriously unimpressed with those north of the border. No tuition fees; free prescriptions; better funding for people in education and on benefits; and yet they're still unhappy enough to go on strike and mess up the already pretty dire fuel situation.

Blimey, I sound grumpy today! I don't know what's got into me. I had better go and watch some soporific snooker (a great idea in theory but I do have a frustrating tendency to open my eyes to see every shot - doh!).

Celebrity

2008-04-16T10:58:00.004+01:00

I can't say that I'm a huge fan of celebrity culture. Strange as it may seem, in my book people should have done something of note in order to gain fame. And for that matter, fame these days is a very different kettle of fish to the fame of yesteryear - do we really need to know every minute aspect of these people's lives? I suppose it's a result of the instant media world we live in. It's also far too easy for those we admire to become idols. Whatever they might have achieved, no human deserves that kind of adulation and worship. But anyway, as I say I'm not a big celeb fan. Great sportspeople that have excelled in their chosen field? Yep, I'm on board with them being recognised. Film stars and musicians who have genuinely made an artistic impact on the world? All good. My current problem with celebrities lies in their unrivalled capacity to let you down.

I should probably stop writing in the abstract about now and get more specific. Please welcome Ms. Kelly Rowland and Ms. Beyonce Knowles to the debate; two thirds of the super-girl-group Destiny's Child and now solo stars in their own right. During the early 00s I was a huge DC fan, to some extent I still am. They made great pop/R'n'B music and nothing can change that. But that wasn't the only reason that I appreciated the group back then. Their attitude was that of empowered women with integrity. They made it clear that you could be sexy without having sex; that dressing and acting in a classy manner was far more attractive than walking around with half your clothes falling off. They recognised God's hand in their lives and even sang about 'not compromising their Christianity'. Which is why it saddens and even angers me to see their wildly different image and attitudes today.

These days both Rowland and Knowles seem to have no qualms about stripping off in their videos in a far from classy manner. Many of their songs are laden with sexual innuendo and a desire beyond all else, to please their man. I don't want to be judgemental. It's not my place. But it is so dispiriting to see these changes in the women that I looked up to as a teenager.

I'd be interested to know the thoughts of the other Destiny's Child member, Michelle Williams. When the group went their separate ways she went into gospel music and so I hope that she still holds the same values as she did back then. Sadly in the UK there is very little word of the gospel music industry so I'm not sure what she's up to these days.

I suppose it just goes to show that all humans fail. We are all far from perfect and whilst to some extent it is good to have role models, we should beware looking up to those we only know through magazines, TV and CDs. Our role models should be people around us in our day to day lives and of course, ultimately our role model should be Jesus Christ. He'll never let us down.

Affiliates

2008-04-16T00:09:00.002+01:00

I've dipped my toe into the dark side of blogging; advertising! Fear not though, I am not completely lost to the practice of advert heavy blogging. You may have noticed a few links on the right hand bar. In order to keep my moral standards intact (!!) I have chosen just three banners, all of which I can claim to have first hand experience of. It's just a little experiment really. I'm often hearing about people making money from blogs and whilst it doesn't really interest me, I'm curious to see how it all works. So feel free to click away or ignore to your heart's content.

Olympic spirit

2008-04-09T14:58:00.007+01:00

Honestly guys, just quit while you're behind. This Olympic torch debacle needs to be stopped.

I love the Olympics a great deal more than your average person. When I was really ill back in 1999, the thought of the Sydney Olympics in 2000 was a strange sort of encouragement to me. OK, so I might still be ill and stuck in the house but at least I'd have a month or so of amazing sport to soak up from the sofa.

The Olympics are unique. So many countries; so many sports; all meeting together to compete for the greatest prizes and provide a sporting spectacle like no other. Please note: a sporting spectacle.

I've been nervous about Beijing being awarded the games from the off. I believe that the decision to hold the games there was a political one and that it has set the scene for a potentially disastrous Olympics where the world's focus will not be on the sporting talent on show, but on the political actions of the Chinese government.

I won't pretend to know all the ins and outs of the Tibet situation but from what I've heard it seems fairly clear that China are knee-deep in a volatile and violent situation which they are exacerbating. Many people feel understandably strongly about this and they have a right to protest. I disagree with the way in which many have done so, but behind the headlines there are plenty of protesters using the Olympics and the relay in particular to make their voices heard, but peacefully with respect for the Games and the competitors. That's fine by me. Sport is a great tool for change but it should never be used at the expense of the sport itself.

Sadly this is the situation in which we find ourselves currently. Pictures of gangs of security guards and policemen surrounding the torch are doing nothing to bring the Olympic spirit to the world. Extinguishing the flame and sticking it on a bus? Absurd. Carrying on regardless will only damage the tournament more. China seem intent on carrying out their ridiculous plan to take the torch through Tibet and up to Mount Everest. It is utter folly. Mark it down as a lesson learned and get yourselves sorted for when the games actually begin. Either that or they need to get themselves out of Tibet.

On a slightly lighter note... what the Dickens were Denise Van Outen and Konnie Huq doing carry the torch? It's celebrity gone mad. In case you missed my point earlier: the Olympics is about sport! Is it so shocking to suggest that only sports-people take part in the relay?

A birthday, a bird and the brilliant Doctor Who.

2008-04-07T11:35:00.007+01:00

It's my little sister's birthday today! She's not actually here, she's currently causing havoc on the canals of England. But Happy Birthday to Baby Hands anyway (she does have freakishly small hands). When I was younger I used to hate this part of the year, between her birthday and my own, because it looked as though there was only one year between us. Something to do with the older sibling equating age with importance I think. But I'm obviously getting on a bit because this time round I'm quite happy with the idea that I'm only a little older!

We've got a bird trapped in our chimney. There's no way of getting it out and it's understandably kicking up a hell of a fuss. Poor thing. And poor me. It's not nice to hear the sad little creature desperately trying to escape.

Hands up, who watched Doctor Who on Saturday night? *Giraffe-a-licious waves frantically* Wasn't it great? I have to say that I was rather disappointed with the Christmas special so it was a relief to see the show back on tip top form. Catherine Tate is an excellent addition to the cast. I can't say that I'm a fan of her comedy but she's landed herself a great character here and is making the most of it. It also means that the dynamic between the Doctor and his assistant has changed and as a result the show feels a lot fresher than for most of the last series. I suppose I should add a few words on the subject of David Tennant. How does charismatic, handsome and hilarious sound? Sigh.

Crossroads

2008-03-31T11:37:00.005+01:00

No, I'm not talking about a dodgy British soap or Bon Jovi's Greatest Hits album and I'm definitely not referring to that hideous song by Blazin' Squad (thank goodness they seem to have gone for good eh?). I feel as though I'm at a crossroads, or perhaps a fork in the road to be more accurate. It's this writing business. For the last 9 months or so I've been trying to get my foot in the door to the world of freelance journalism. I've written on various different subjects and most of it has found its way onto the internet in one form or another. But I'm getting disheartened. To be perfectly honest I'm fed up of doing it all for free. I know that it's the way to get experience and all that jazz but it's rather demoralising when you send off e-mails and samples of your work, never to hear back from those people that could actually afford to pay you.

Perhaps I just don't have the ambition and motivation necessary to get ahead in the industry. It's not my dream to be a writer. It's just something that I happen to be able to do to a decent standard and which I would be able to fit around my health problems. Maybe I just don't want it enough.

So the writing malarkey is one prong of the metaphorical fork in the road that I spoke of. The other is to go back to studying. I've been having a look at the OU website recently and part of me would really like to get myself a little more educated. The problem is that I can't do both. I simply don't have enough energy to give follow both avenues. Which leaves me with a difficult choice; to write or to study? Theoretically I can do either at any time in future. However, if I give up the writing now I'm well aware that it will take me twice as long to make any progress next time. Gah! I'm not used to decisions like this. My M.E. dictates my life so much that usually there is only one option available to me in any given situation! Once more with feeling? GAH!

No business like snow business

2008-03-24T10:29:00.006Z

Finally! I began to think that it would never happen. But oh joy, it did! Snow! I'd given up hope of being able to build a snowman this year. We had the bizarre flurry at the end of October, followed by a few half-hearted showers of the non-settling variety over the winter. Easter had come, surely all chance of snow was gone? Oh me of little faith.

Meet Jeffrey. Named after Mr Jeffrey Buttle, World Figure Skating champion! I'm sure you'll agree that the likeness is uncanny.

It almost didn't happen. For a long and boring reason, which I shall not force you to endure on these pages, I was woken up earlier than normal yesterday. I happened to poke my head through the curtains and was greeted by the magnificent sight of brilliant white snow. Sad to say that I didn't quite have the enthusiasm to run outside straight away. I went back to bed for half an hour or so for a lovely lie-in. However once those 30 minutes had passed I peeked out of the window again and noticed to my consternation that the lovely winter wonderland was already starting to melt away. I realised that if I wanted to make a snowman at all this year then now was the time for action! I kitted myself out with my woolliest garments, grabbed a hot-cross bun for sustenance and made my way into the back garden. After five minutes or so of intense snowman building I realised that this year's masterpiece was going to have to be on a slightly smaller scale than usual. Normally I'd have had some extra help in the form of my little sis, but seeing as she's still off gallavanting in the States, this time it was left to me and my not-so-hot energy levels. Nonetheless I'm still pretty pleased with my solo effort. Although upon my parents seeing Jeffrey I was greeted with a cry of, "That's my best scarf!" from my dad. Pah! I'd looked through all the scarves we had and chosen one that I'd never seen anyone wear! Hmmm... maybe that's because it's his best scarf! You know, like the whole best china that no-one ever uses because it might get damaged!

Jeffrey is still standing currently, although he is missing an eye and his nose is looking rather on the wobbly side! Anyway, roll on spring and summer. Snowman built, winter is now complete.

A few musings

2008-03-21T13:19:00.004Z

I'm exhausted. Honestly. I've been running myself ragged over the last couple of weeks. Yesterday I was finally able to catch my breath and get some much needed rest. I don't quite know how I managed to get so busy. Places to go, people to see and all that. Anyway, I'm resting up for the next few days; recharging my batteries.

I was delighted to hear about the BBC regaining the rights to the F1 races. Another positive Lewis Hamilton effect. Don't try and tell me that the BBC would have even thought about bidding if it wasn't for the golden boy. But they have - hurrah! The Beeb have spent an alleged £150 million for 5 years worth of F1. It might seem like a lot but really they're just spending what they saved from dropping Neighbours. If I remember rightly the BBC were being asked to pay £100,000 for each episode of the Aussie soap. That's £500,000 a week. Neighbours is broadcast for about 45 weeks a year, so that's £22.5m each year, multiply by 5 = £112.5m. And F1 will provide far more entertainment for the money than Neighbours could ever hope to.

Of course the best part of this transfer away from ITV is that there'll be no more ad breaks at inconvenient moments! My only worry is whether or not they'll hang on to James Allen and Martin Brundle as commentators. I very much doubt that they could put together a better team. In fact, thinking about it a little more, I am beginning to get concerned that they may get bloomin' Suzy Perry involved. Oh please no. I'm going to get nightmares now.

Moving on to less scary things... the World Figure Skating Championship is taking place in Gothenburg this week (also the city where Jonathan Edwards achieved his triple jump World Records in 1995, fact fans!). Ice skating gets a bad press. It's perceived as girly and namby-pamby. Watch some of the top male skaters and you'll see that is far from being the case. They have to be so athletic! I don't think that Dancing on Ice has really helped with the image of ice skating either. That show is more full of sequins and divas than Strictly Come Dancing! The World Champs are being shown on Eurosport - give them a gander.

Brian Joubert during his James Bond short programme last year.

The James Toseland Appreciation Society

2008-03-16T13:44:00.009Z

Some people have it all; meet James Toseland.

James is 27 years old and hails from Doncaster. He has twice won the World Superbike Championship and this year made the step up to MotoGP. Easy on the eye, an accomplished pianist and as he revealed on Sport Relief on Friday he can blooming well sing too. Check out his piano skills in the video below. I'm off to work out how I can persuade him to marry me. That is once I've also convinced him that he's a sinner who needs to repent and turn to trust in Jesus Christ...

Darling schmarling

2008-03-14T11:59:00.006Z

I'm not a happy bunny. Or a happy car owner for that matter. Let me make one thing clear before I start: I have no problem with the government wanting to cut CO2 emissions. In fact I'd go so far as to say that I am positively pro the idea. It is right that those buying new, emission heavy vehicles should pay for the right to pollute. Such taxes are a necessary evil in my mind. It is important to encourage people when buying a new car, to buy the more eco-friendly option.

My unhappy bunny status comes from Alastair Darling's plan for cars registered before 2001. These are the cars that didn't have their carbon emissions tested. Up until this week's budget they were taxed according to engine size: £120 a year for cars under 1549cc and £185 a year for cars over that level. Fine. I drive a 2000 Skoda Fabia 1.4 - off goes £120 each year to the Treasury. I can deal with that. However, following Mr Darling's budget I will now have to pay a flat rate of £200 a year for the privilege of having my car on the road. Now it's quite possible that this is in fact the right level of tax for my car if it's carbon emissions were measured. I have no idea. My problem is that the government is clearly discriminating against those of us who cannot afford to buy a new car. The only way to reduce the amount of road tax we pay is to buy a new (or at the most 7 year old) car with a low emission output. I have no doubt that that option is sadly out of reach for many, including myself. Why he couldn't just leave the current pre-2001 system in place is beyond me. Of course, it's a nice little earner for the Treasury isn't it? I'm growing cynical in my old age. But I blame that on the government too. Cynicism is born of dashed hopes, something that Gordon Brown and his friends seem to do a nice line in.

N.B. (added 17/03) It would appear that I have been misinformed by The Daily Telegraph. That'll teach me for believing everything I read! According to the official budget report on the Downing Street website, pre-2001 cars will continue to be taxed according to engine size. That is £120 for under 1549 ccs and £185 for cars over 1549ccs. In 2009/2010 the upper rate will increase to £200 whilst the lower will remain at £120. Hurrah! Perhaps I was a little harsh on Mr Darling.

Mamma mia, here I go again.

2008-03-12T11:29:00.005Z

It's only a matter of time before I turn into my mother. I'm resigned to this fact. Already people are unable to distinguish between us on the phone; worryingly, even my dad can't tell us apart when he calls. My sister doesn't have this problem. She sounds different, looks different... sigh. I've got the same face, voice, temperament. Usually I am able to forget this fact. I can look to the future without seeing myself as my mother. Not at the moment though; my Nana is visiting. My Nana is my mum's mum and the similarities between them just serve to highlight the characteristics shared by me and my mum. I can imagine it must be quite scary for my dad to have three generations of women under the same roof at one time.

Thankfully it hasn't quite got to the point where I am indistinguishable from my Nana, but surely it is only a matter of time. I can only console myself with the fact that I'll always be taller! It's fascinating to look at other people and the traits and features that they've inherited from their parents and grandparents. But when you turn the tables and start looking at yourself it becomes less fascinating and more horrifying! I can't imagine what it must be like to not know your parents, either through tragic circumstances, family break-ups or perhaps because of adoption. I see so much of myself in my parents (whether I want to or not). Granted, it's likely that I see more because of the unusually large amount of time that I spend in their company. Most 23 year-olds would have lived away from home by now and even if they were still at home, I doubt they would see as much of their parents as I do. They drive me round the bend at times (I'm sure that also applies to the other way round!) but it's cool to know where I came from; where some of my weirder character traits emanate from. But on the flip side it's also nice to know which parts are 100% me!

P.S. So Brian Ashton has dropped dear Jonny from his starting XV on Saturday. Rubbish. He played badly, but no worse than the rest of the team. If Ashton's going to drop Jonny then he should drop every other player that was on that pitch last weekend. Bah.

Give Brian the boot

2008-03-08T23:38:00.003Z

My word was it an appalling rugby match today. I'm referring to the Scotland vs England debacle. I can only hope that no-one watching rugby for the first time tuned in to it. They'll have been put off for life. Fair enough, the weather was atrocious but even taking that into account, the standard of play was far far below what it should be for an international fixture of that nature. England looked as though they didn't want to be there.

The only thing worse than their performance was Brian Moore's commentary. Somebody at the BBC needs to show that man the door. He was unbearable during the France match and no better today. Poor Eddie Butler is evidently losing patience with him and it's not difficult to see why. Moore is opinionated to the point of rudeness; loud; aggressive; belligerent. These are traits unwanted in a pundit, let alone a commentator. His job is to inform, observe and explain. Instead he rants and raves over refereeing decisions, player choices and tactics. He is the equivalent of a lager-filled fan sat at home on his sofa convinced that he could do a better job than every man on the pitch and given a microphone by which to makes his views known to the world. Moore was a fine player in his day (or so I'm told!) but he is clearly not suited to this type of media work. In print, he's fine - his Daily Telegraph column is obviously opinionated but if I'm not in the mood to hear his grumblings then I can turn the page. Any one of the BBC's current line-up of pundits would do a better job in the commentary box. You can hear the strain in Eddie Butler's voice. I wouldn't be surprised if come the match against Ireland next weekend we are audio witnesses to a murder! Moore believes his own opinion to be the only true one and will not hear a word otherwise. No matter how much experience he has had on the pitch, he is the junior in the commentary box and he should act like it. He shows no respect for his colleague, the officials, players or viewers.

Be gone Brian Moore and blight my ears no longer!

I'm the mother flippin'

2008-03-05T11:24:00.004Z

Just a very short post for today because quite frankly nothing I say will match up to the genius of the video clip below. These guys are called Flight of the Conchords. They're a folky, parody type band from New Zealand with their own TV show (it was shown on BBC Four in the UK). Said TV show is basically an excuse for them to get their songs out there - hurrah for that I say. They have a great talent for lyrics and imitating any number of different styles of music. Check out this clip. To put this in context, they start singing it whilst being mugged. Those ker-razy Kiwis.

The James Marsden Appreciation Society

2008-03-02T22:41:00.010Z

You know, there are some actors that just never get the recognition they deserve. Case in point: James Marsden.

The phrase 'ridiculously good-looking' could have been created for him. That is if Derek Zoolander hadn't got a hold of it first. Charisma; charm; talent; he's got it all and yet too often he gets relegated to the Paul Walker 'cute but should have stuck to modelling' league.

So why am I such a fan? Well, let's review the evidence.

Exhibit A: X-Men. Under used (I love Bryan Singer but he made an error here) but still great as Cyclops. We never see his eyes! It's incredibly difficult to act without eyes! As for X3, the potential was there for a Cyclops centred story. But no! Not to give too much away, but Mr Marsden doesn't get to see a whole lot of action in The Last Stand.

Exhibit B: Ally McBeal. The US legal comedy/drama suffered a big hit in its 5th and final season due to the departure of Robert Downey Jr. Good old James helped to ease the pain with his easy charm and dulcet singing tones.

Exhibit C: Superman Returns. Perhaps Singer was trying to make things up to him by casting him as Lois Lane's squeeze in his Superman revamp. Sadly still a fairly peripheral character, Marsden nevertheless fleshed out his role in such a way that it truly left the viewer unsure which man Lane would choose.

Exhibit D: Hairspray. Utterly joyous. I love this film and you-know-who was perfect in the role of cheesy as can be TV show host, Corny Collins. Once more he got to show off those vocal talents and sends up his clean-cut looks and image a treat. See also Exhibit E.

Exhibit E: Enchanted. Marsden is hilarious as the Disney prince searching for his princess in an all too real New York. He flings himself headlong into the spirit of the film despite once again playing second fiddle in the leading man stakes, this time to Patrick Dempsey.

So there you have it. Undeniable proof of the genius of James Marsden. If this guy had been around in the 40s or 50s then he'd have been a matinee idol. It's just bad luck for him that these days audiences want their movie stars a little less slick and a bit rough around the edges.

James Marsden, I salute you!

Listen very carefully...

2008-02-28T11:08:00.003Z

I've spent the better part of this morning cowering downstairs in the living room. No, it's not because of another earthquake. I am simply the victim of my own overactive imagination. I keep hearing things. Noises coming from the roof. Except they seem to be coming from inside the roof - the loft, attic or whatever you like to call it.

I woke up to these noises, these 100% definitely there noises! To start with I thought it was just a bird scrabbling about on the roof but then the noises started to get louder. Surely too loud for a mere bird on a roof. I started to get a bit freaked out. You know when you're alone in the house and you hear something strange, your mind goes into a sort of paranoid overdrive. It's a cat in the roof... no, a rat... no, the earthquake shook the chimney loose and it's about to fall on top of me... no, it's the hot water tank about to explode... gah!

However I couldn't very well stay downstairs all morning so I took my courage in both hands and went up to have a shower. I thought it was very brave of me considering the possibility that the roof might fall down at any moment and I'd be stuck butt-naked in a pile of rubble, unsure as to whether or not I wanted the fire service to come and rescue me or not.

Shower dealt with I had to go back to my room to get dressed. Cue a loud radio. Ah-ha - now I cannot hear you, you freaky noises! Up and dressed I leg it down the stairs and stay there. Unfortunately, our house is a pretty creaky one anyway. It's not actually that old - I think it was built about 30 years ago - but it just loves to creak, often in new and unexpected ways. So now, every little sound that I hear it make is confirmation of my worst fears. Although come to think of it, I'm now entirely sure what my worst fear is. I was most worried about some living thing being up there but actually it would be far worse if it was actually the house making all those noises. Hmmm... I probably shouldn't dwell on this any longer. Time to watch some TV at an unnecessarily high volume.

Oscar, England and delusions of grandeur.

2008-02-25T12:42:00.012Z

I'm not one to brag but I'm pretty chuffed with the Oscar predictions that I made last month. Six out of eight ain't bad. It's also a lesser known Meatloaf song!

I've also been perusing all the red carpet piccies. I'm no fashionista mind, I just like looking at the pretty dresses! Giraffe-a-licious props to Anne Hathaway and Jennifer Garner who both looked gorgeous and prompted great feelings of jealousy within your favourite blogger.

Now onto more important matters... rugby! What a brilliant match on Saturday night and with the all important right result.
England finally put in a decent second half performance. More Giraffe-a-licious props to Richard Wigglesworth, Nick Easter and Jamie Noon in particular. Plus Mr W of course. If you don't know who I mean by that, then there's no hope for you.

The extent of my sporting activities this weekend amounted to watching the rugby and having a game of tennis on a Wii. Whilst fun to imagine myself teaching Maria Sharapova a lesson in the finer points of the game, the speed at which these exertions zapped my energy reserves combined with the pain in my arm and shoulder this morning mean that she's unlikely to be challenged in the near future. I'll just have to keep relying on Justine Henin to beat her. Hmmm... maybe I could help Justine out by giving her a few pointers? Do you think she's in the Yellow Pages?

A crafty little project

2008-02-21T11:38:00.005Z

My granny like tendencies have raised their ugly heads again this week. However this time it's not moaning about the state of the nation or making that 'this requires a lot of effort' noise when I get up from a chair. It's knitting. The most granny-ish pastime of them all.

Over the years I've attempted many different arts and crafts projects with limited success. Card-making, cross-stitching, jewellery-making and painting little boxes to name but a few. You wouldn't believe the amount of random craft odds and ends that are dotted around the house. My problem is that I'm just not creative enough. If I were a Mr Men character I'd be Little Miss Analytical. It's not in my nature to be creative. I'm all about analysing other peoples' creativity! To put it simply, after a few weeks at a certain craft I hit a brick wall. I just run out of ideas! Solution? I just move on to the next one!

Anyway, the current craft du jour is knitting. However I am hopeful that this one may last a little longer. Firstly because it actually has a purpose behind it and secondly because the creative element stretches only to my deciding which colours to use! I've recently become aware of a charity called Samaritan's Purse. They are a Christian charity that aim to spread the Gospel whilst supplying practical everyday items to victims of war, poverty, natural disasters etc. One of their projects is Operation Christmas Child. Supporters are encouraged to pack a shoe box with toys, stationary, hygiene items (e.g. toothbrushes, soap, hairbrushes) and other nice things for children around the world who need them. One of their ideas is for knitted woolly hats to go in the boxes. Hence, my knitting frenzy. And yes, I know it's a long time until Christmas but I'm not exactly a professional knitter so I thought it would make sense to make a start now!

If you'd like to join my knitting crusade then check out http://www.samaritanspurse.uk.com/occ/knitting_for_occ.asp where you can download patterns in PDF format.

Altogether now..."Knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one..."

The week that will be

2008-02-18T11:19:00.005Z

I've had one of those weeks that quite frankly I'm glad to see the back of. Various problems and stressful situations have marked it down as one to forget and so I'm more than happy to move on into the 'bound-to-be-much-better' week commencing Monday 18th February. Optimistic as I am, I see it going something like this:

Monday - write blog. Hear a knock at the door. It's the postman. Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail, ah an interesting letter. Dear Giraffe-a-licious... love your blog... blah blah blah... like to invite you to Buckingham Palace for a cup of tea... do say you'll come... love Liz.

Tuesday - spend a couple of hours in morning volunteering for Alzheimer's Society. Head home. Someone flags me down to asks for directions. It's David Tennant. So grateful for my help that he invites me to appear as his assistant in the next series of Doctor Who.

Wednesday - go for meal with friends in the evening. Waiter brings me wrong order. By way of an apology I can have my food for free. Plus, would madam like a Pina Colada on the house? Why yes, madam would.

Thursday - a nice restful day spoilt only by David Tennant's incessant phone calls.

Friday - Wake up and am miraculously cured of M.E. Hop on a plane to some far flung, exotic destination in celebration of miracle. Or see if I can nab some tickets to England v France. That's got the Jonny Wilkinson factor. Hmmmm.... decisions, decisions...

My funny Valentine

2008-02-13T20:02:00.006Z

Valentine's Day tomorrow. Woop-de-doo. Can you tell that I'm single?

To be honest I take issue with the whole thing anyway but I promise that what follows is not some sort of bitter rant! No doubt I could deliver one if I so desired but I think it important that I do not indulge that side of myself!

Valentine's Day is the day when we are all told to be romantic. If we're told to be romantic, doesn't that rather negate the romance? Surely the romance of something is largely in the spontaneity of it? Who feels truly special when their other half buys them flowers or chocolates on Valentine's Day? It would be much better were they to choose some other day to express their love. Romance just isn't the same if it's been instigated by Clinton's Cards.

Of course I speak from vast experience. Ahem.

I'm in that strange position at the moment of not wanting to be in a relationship (too much hassle, demands on my time etc.) but wanting to know that there is one waiting somewhere around the corner for me. I have this recurring nightmare that I'm going to end up in a nursing home at 50 years old because my parents have kicked the bucket and I'm still not well enough to look after myself. A husband would solve that particular worry. From what I can gather, good husbands are pretty thin on the ground these days anyway and my (not self-imposed) stringent criteria aren't going to make finding one any easier.

Firstly, I'm a Christian and and the Bible tells me that I should only be going out with a guy that shares my beliefs. Wow - that pool of potential hubbys just shrunk quickly! Secondly, the chap needs to be able to deal with my illness (a lot easier said that done). Thirdly, somehow I'm going to have to come into contact with him (not easy when I generally travel the same distance from home as a particularly lazy tortoise travels in 24 hours). Once all those criteria are fulfilled we get down to the less important things - personality, sense of humour, the ability to actually get along with me...

Gah. Love, schmove. As a wise woman once said: "Love? I'd rather fall in chocolate."

Brotherly love

2008-02-07T12:03:00.000Z

Tennis post alert! Tennis post alert!

Tomorrow sees the start of Great Britain's Davis Cup tie against Argentina. For the first time in years we are back in the elite World Group and have been rewarded with one the most difficult ties that we could have drawn. Argentina have 11 players in the top 100, home advantage and the choice of surface. We have one top 100 player in the form of Andy Murray. To make matters worse, Murray withdrew from the tie last week, citing a knee injury that he was nervous of aggravating on the clay.

This leaves the loss of the tie as somewhat inevitable. Although I've been severely disappointed by the way that some of the press have approached the whole thing. Yes, barring a miracle the tie is over before it has even started, but we've got to give the guys playing some sort of support. If we show no faith in them at all then why should they have faith in themselves? The Davis Cup gives players like Jamie Baker a chance to step up and pitch himself against guys that he wouldn't usually have the opportunity to play. If that's not a motivation to play your best tennis and use the experience to head into the top 100, then I don't know what is.

Interestingly all the news today has been about a rift between Andy Murray and his doubles playing brother Jamie. Apparently Jamie is none too pleased about his little brother ducking out of the tie and hasn't spoken to him for a number of weeks! Considering their normally close relationship this is quite a big deal. The elder Murray is known for being far more relaxed and easy going than Andy and yet he evidently feels strongly about his brother's decision. It will be interesting to see how the 20-year-old reacts!

I'm always drawn to supporting people that have a strong relationship with a sibling. No doubt because my sister and I get on so well. We're best friends and I love to see that replicated in other brother and sister partnerships. It should go some way to explaining my desire to see Same Difference win X-Factor last year! I'm sure that Andy and Jamie will sort it all out soon enough. If they weren't so close in the first place then this disagreement wouldn't be such a big deal.

In the meantime - C'MON TEAM GB! You can take at least one match from them!

P...p...p...pick up a pancake

2008-02-04T13:04:00.000Z

It's Shrove Tuesday tomorrow! That's Pancake Day to the less educated among us. Hurrah!

I'll admit it, I'm something of a pancake addict. In the Giraffe-a-licious household pancake consumption is not limited to merely Pancake Day. In fact, it has become something of a tradition for my sister and I to make a batch whenever our parents go away. As a result we do consider ourselves to be something in the way of conoisseurs when it comes to the humble pancake. Imagine my consternation when I read in the paper today that 1 in 5 of the British population didn't know that it was Shrove Tuesday tomorrow and that less than a third would definitely be making pancakes on that day.

So I call on you dear readers, to take up your frying pans and join the pancake cause. Say no to the stacked American forgeries and turn back to the classic, thin, big-as-a-dinner-plate variety! In order to inspire, I bring you some of the greatest pancake toppings/fillings ever tasted. All this in order to make your Pancake Day a day to remember!

1. Sometimes the simplest of toppings can be best eg. lemon juice and caster sugar or butter and sugar (take the pancake straight from the pan, spread some butter on it (must be butter, no margarine!), top with sugar).

2. Golden syrup. Use as a substitute for sugar. Works particularly well with orange juice (from an orange, not a carton!)

3. Fruit. Try blueberries and golden syrup. Or strawberries and chocolate spread.

4. Demerara sugar - used in combination with orange juice it gives a great texture.

5. Savoury, schmavoury - I'm all about the sweet stuff. If you absolutely have to have savoury then check out the BBC Food website (www.bbc.co.uk/food) Type 'pancakes' into their recipe finder and you'll be well away.

One final thing - try and eat them straight from the pan. If there is more than one of you eating then use the conveyor belt trick: Pancake 1 cooked, pancake 2 cooked whilst pancake 1 is topped, pancake 3 is cooked whilst pancake 1 is eaten and pancake 2 is topped, pancake 4 cooked whilst pancake 2 is eaten and pancake 3 topped...etc etc etc.

ENJOY!

Back in the day

2008-01-29T14:41:00.000Z

I spent quite a large chunk of last weekend in the company of my 8 year old self. Don't worry, I haven't invented some sort of time machine, created a time paradox by meeting myself, "the results of which could start a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space time continuum, and destroy the entire universe!" Take a bow, Dr Emmett Brown. Nothing so exciting I'm afraid. I've been watching home videos.

I've just got a fancy new bit of technology that enables to me to copy from VHS to DVD, so I've been doing that very thing with the home vids that my Dad made back in the mid-90s. It's been an odd experience. Mostly very fun - I was pretty amusing as a kid - but also quite poignant at times. Grandparents that are no longer here in reality are there on tape and the experience of seeing them there is quite different to that of looking at a still photo. It's a vivid reminder of their personalities and quirks.

It's bizarre to see myself up on the screen as a healthy child! Such a vast chunk of my life has been defined by the M.E. that is strange to remember that back then it wasn't.

I'm also unusually extroverted! Most people remember me as a shy child who wouldn't say boo to a goose. (I've never really understood that saying - a goose could be quite frightening if it wanted to. Surely it should be 'boo to a sparrow' or something along those lines?) Evidently when I was around familiar company and situations, I had no qualms about showing off or being overly loud.

I was also struck by the number of school concerts, plays, gym displays etc that we've got on tape. These days I expect that parents aren't allowed to film such things because they contain other people's kids. It's an understandable safety precaution but it is still sad that these records won't be around for the children of today to show their children.

And the Oscar goes to...

2008-01-25T14:31:00.000Z

It's time for me to gaze into my metaphorical crystal ball again. I may be a few days behind the rest of the world (the nominations were announced on Tuesday) but I let me assure you that I have put much thought into these predictions. I definitely didn't decide to do this on a whim, find the list of nominees and have a bit of a guess... ahem. So without further ado: Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the winners of the 2008 Academy Awards!

Best Picture: No Country For Old Men

Best Director(s): Joel and Ethan Cohen - No Country For Old Men

Best Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis - There Will Be Blood

Best Actress: Marion Cotillard - La Vie En Rose

Best Supporting Actor: Javier Bardem - No Country For Old Men

Best Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett - I'm Not There

Best Original Screenplay: Juno

Best Adapted Screenplay: The Diving Bell and The Butterfly

These things I say with the complete certainty of someone who has not seen a single one of the films mentioned. Shameful but true.

Feel free to comment with your own ker-razy predictions!

P.S. I fell down the stairs today. More on that story later.

Heath Ledger

2008-01-23T00:12:00.000Z

I surprised myself tonight, by the extent to which I was saddened upon hearing of the death of Heath Ledger. On the one hand such sadness is completely understandable. He was only 28 years old, at the beginning of in all likelihood a long and successful career, and leaves behind a 2 year old daughter. It is utterly tragic.

But I don’t know him. I’ve never met the guy and have no idea of his true character or personality. I’ve merely watched a few of his films. Yet despite this fact, I was genuinely shocked and distressed at the news. The easiest way of explaining it would probably be to attribute it to today’s culture of celebrity. There are certainly some actors and actresses who make it their business to be in the papers every day, shamelessly promoting their latest piece of sub-standard entertainment and giving the public an intimate (if often false) portrait of their lives. But to my mind Ledger wasn’t one of those. He kept himself to himself, made good films (for the most part) and got on with his life.

I think that eventually it must come down to his work on the screen. Despite of (or perhaps because of) their lightweight nature, 10 Things I Hate About You and A Knight’s Tale are two of my favourite films. In both of them Ledger is charismatic and appealing, bringing an easy style of acting to his roles with very little fuss or bother. He puts in consistently good performances even when the films don’t quite match the standard of his acting; see Ned Kelly or The Brothers Grimm. No doubt he’ll be remembered largely for his Oscar nominated performance in Brokeback Mountain, although I have a feeling that his role as The Joker in the upcoming Batman film may prove more iconic.

No doubt it will be used over and over again in the coming days, but tragic really is the only word to describe it.

A Selby, a station and a sofa.

2008-01-21T11:30:00.000Z

Just call me Mystic Meg!

I'm actually quite disproportionately proud at my successful snooker prediction! I think that perhaps I shall quit whilst I'm ahead and from here on in make no more sports-related forecasts. Yeah right. Like that's going to last for long!

Disregarding the warm glow I'm emitting having triumphed in this small matter, I actually feel rather like I've been hit by a bus this morning. All self-inflicted I assure you, well in the sense that I knew I'd end up feeling like this. Not that I actually took on the persona of my M.E. and beat myself over the head with it. It's as a result of my little London sojourn at the weekend. I knew that rather too much walking than was desired would take place, but I didn't count on my sister and I getting lost inside St. Pancras station and having to retrace our steps before we had got our bearings. So before we'd even left the station I'd walked too far! Eventually my walking turned into that sort of trudging pattern, where all that was keeping me going was momentum. I had to keep moving because if I stopped then it would probably take me hours to get started again!

Anyhow, I survived the day but I'm paying for it now. Surprise, surprise. Here's looking forward to a week of sofa-dwelling and ice-skating viewing!

Snooker loopy

2008-01-18T11:54:00.000Z

#Pot the reds then, screw back

For the yellow, green, brown, blue, pink and black

Snooker loopy, nuts are we

We're all snooker loopy#

A bit of Chas 'n' Dave for you there, to brighten up your Friday morning. I have a strange relationship with snooker. Not quite love/hate but something akin to it. It all depends on my health at the time of a televised tournament. If I'm well then it drives me err... loopy! It's too slow and I get all fidgety whilst watching it. I'd be a disaster if I went to see it played live. I expect I'd develop a desperate urge to talk to someone during the game and I'd probably get asked to remove myself from the premises.

Snooker comes into its own when I'm ill; when I'm lolling on the sofa in a particularly pathetic state. Snooker soothes me; the slow but deliberate movement of the player and cue; the sound of ball against ball; muted applause; the dulcet tones of John Virgo - all far more relaxing than any pan-pipes CD or yoga video.

I mention this now because you may have noticed that snooker has once again taken over BBC2 this week. It's The Masters tournament in Wembley. It's been a bit of a good'un so far especially in terms of shock results. 3 of the big names fell before the quarter-final stage: John Higgins, Stephen Hendry and Ronnie O'Sullivan. I'm going to stick my neck out and say that Mark Selby will win the title. He's come back to win his last two matches 6-5. He just doesn't know when to lie down and die!

Gah x3

2008-01-14T22:00:00.000Z

Today I was on the receiving end of a frankly horrific accidental text incident. My sister's text message to her boyfriend ended up winging its way to me. I almost vomited. The less said the better. I am attempting to wipe the memory from my mind, a la Ben Affleck in Paycheck.

The trip to the hospital last week actually turned out OK. I did see the man himself and he discharged me - woop, woop! He was disarmingly friendly. So much so that when he brought out his classic "the only cure for M.E. is exercise" chestnut I didn't have enough time for it to register or for me to react. Curses. Oh well at least I won't have to see him again! Honestly man, stick to your chosen field.

I'm having to take a step back this week and take some rest days. I've done rather a lot over the past 10 days or so and my body has started shouting at me. I'm supposed to be going to London on Saturday. Gah. Always a rather stressful undertaking. Shouldn't have to stray to far from St Pancras though thankfully. I can't deal with cities. I've often wondered how I would have coped with this illness had I lived in a city. I can't bear the thought of the noise and millions of people all squashed together. I like my suburbs just fine thanks. I've got the vital entertainment venues within reach (ie. shops and cinema) and lots of nice countryside too. That is until all those new houses go up... I'm going to have to emigrate aren't I? One problem - I have a feeling that no country is likely to want me. Bah. Degrees, schmegrees!

Doctor, doctor...

2008-01-10T12:51:00.000Z

Oh joy. A visit to the consultant awaits me today. Sadly not an M.E. consultant (no such thing exists in my area of the postcode lottery) but a thyroid doctor. I've had thyroid issues of one form or another for the past 6 years. It's pretty much stabilised now but I'm summoned to a check-up once a year. The problem is that this guy is rather deficient in the understanding of M.E. department. The last time I saw him he suggested I join a gym! If it was mere ignorance of the condition then I could give him some leeway. Unfortunately, he appears to have had some sort of experience with the illness which has led him to believe that he knows the cure! Goodness knows what kind of crackpot hospital he got this 'experience' at but quite frankly he should stick to his thyroid clinic. I can deal with people (even in the medical profession) being ignorant of my condition, providing that they are willing to listen to me and take on board what I have to say - I have been living with this illness for 10 years now, I think I probably know quite a bit more about it than the average doc. But what gets me so very annoyed (the polite way of putting it) is ignorance compounded by arrogance; the belief that they have the answers when in reality they don't even know the questions!

Mind you I'm probably making a fuss over nothing. In all likelihood I won't even get to see the head honcho. Mostly I get palmed off onto his registrars, the majority of which look blankly at me when I try to explain that I have M.E. I don't think they can cope with more than one illness at a time, poor little dears.

Technologically speaking...

2008-01-04T21:44:00.000Z

I've spent the better part of this evening on my hands and knees in our lounge, making friends with dust and dead spiders. Why I hear you ask? All for the greater televisual viewing of the Giraffe-a-licious house.

We have a shiny new TV! This is highly unusual for us. We normally hang on to our old and out-dated technology until it simply doesn't work anymore. Very economical and all that, but rather boring. Anyway, now we have moved into the 21st Century and have a rather beautiful 32" Sony Bravia LCD. To make said beautiful TV watchable however, required rather a lot of cable switching, furniture moving and generally exhausting activity. The truth of it is that I'm the tech-savvy one of the family when it comes to this stuff. My sister's better with computers and the like; but TVs, VCRs, DVDs, Digiboxes etc are my domain. The worrying thing is that I get a strange satisfaction from the whole process. It's probably part of my whole list addiction thing but it soothes me to get things in order; to unplug and replug cables, knowing that my actions will bring me eventual joy! The problem is that such activities tend to be a little on the energy zapping side.

Stand up... sit down... careful not to damage the new glass TV stand... get a torch to see where this cable goes... oh no wrong place... bend down again to change it... Thankfully I was ably aided by the parental carbon units without whose furniture moving skills I would have been all at sea. The most shocking part about the whole thing was that my Dad was actually able to keep quiet during the process! Usually it's a case of "you don't want to do it like that...". Yes Dad, actually I do. Anyway, this time round he was a star. He must be mellowing in his old age.

Now please do excuse me whilst I go and curl up in a ball somewhere and sleep this technology hangover off.

2008....come on down!

2008-01-01T16:54:00.000Z

Happy New Year to one and all! Adios 2007. Hola 2008!

With a whole new 365 days of fun stretching out in front of us until Jonathan Ross gets to change his film show title again, I feel moved to make some predictions for the forthcoming year. Come with me as I gaze into the future and witness events yet to occur.

I tell you the truth, when I say that in 2008...

Leona Lewis will conquer the American charts.
Andy Murray will compete in at least one Grand Slam semi-final.
Britain's Olympic gold medals will come from sailing, cycling and equestrianism (that's fancy talk for horse stuff don't cha know).
The Liberal Democrats will elect another new leader.
Dave will become the top-rated non-Beeb, non-Sky, digital TV channel.
Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull will be the biggest film of the year.
Both David Tennant and Jonny Wilkinson will become single, fall in love with your favourite blogger (that's me, right?) and fight some sort of contest (the format of which has yet to be decided) in order to win her affections.

Well I don't know about you, but I'm excited!

Auld Lang Syne and all that

2007-12-30T18:15:00.000Z

The more observant among you may have noticed the dearth of blog entries over the past week or so. I had a little Christmas holiday - how cheeky of me! I'm almost back into the blogging spirit now, but I think you'll have to wait until 2008 for a proper new post. Roll on the New Year! Can't say I'm sad to see the back of 2007; not exactly a vintage year for Giraffe-a-licious. But it did witness the birth of Ponderings and Ruminations; and for that I'm sure you are all most grateful!

Tory-graph thieves!

2007-12-21T09:59:00.000Z

The cheek of it! I open up my newspaper today and what do I find? An article telling me all about the 'there weren't three kings' issue. The Daily Telegraph have evidently been reading my blog! They claim it is written in response to the Archbishop of Canterbury's comments on the subject, so maybe it's Dr Williams who is a Giraffe-a-licious fan! I'll have to see about getting myself invited to the Lambeth conference this year. I'll sort them all out!

Ponderings on power

2007-12-20T19:57:00.000Z

I've been prompted to ponder lately just what type of person it is that wants to run the country. Surely it is one of the most thankless tasks around? Yet huge amounts of money and effort are poured into electoral and party leadership campaigns as the various candidates clamour for media coverage. I'm not saying that I don't understand why one might want to enter into politics. No doubt the majority of MPs get into the game with the belief that they can make changes for the good to help both their constituents and the wider population.

I'd like to use my local MP as an example; Philip Hollobone is a Conservative MP. He doesn't hold a cabinet position or have any particular prominence in the House of Commons. He is truly a representative of his constituency. He has all of the advantages and disadvantages of being a member of the opposition; he can argue with the government and give them a piece of his mind without having to worry about upsetting his boss, but most likely struggles to implement much real change due to the lack of influence suffered by most opposition members. This year he received some national publicity having been revealed as the least expensive MP in the house. Efficiency is unusual in politics! I've never plumped for Tory so far in all my 5 years of voting. In the next election, I will stick to that. I won't be voting Tory, I'll be voting Philip!

My point is that I can get on board with these type of politicians. They make sense to me. It's the guys with the huge ambitions that confuse me. Some of them don't seem completely power hungry, so maybe they're just delusional.

Can you imagine being in charge of such a bureaucracy riddled government and civil service? A system where a mistake can be made a million miles away from you and yet you're the one who gets the blame? Where if you actually have a good idea it will take an age for it to get through and actually help people? At least if you're England football manager the fans cheer when you win (the money's a bit better too!). When was the last time the British government had a 'win'? It's a constant stream of losses punctuated by the odd draw.

Of course I'm glad that someone wants to do it. We'd be pretty stuffed if no-one aspired to the job. I'm just amazed at the sheer quantity that do.

We three k.. now let me just stop you there.

2007-12-18T23:03:00.000Z

I’m sure we all know the carol: “We three kings of orient are…” Although of course your level of maturity will determine whether this is followed by the words “…bearing gifts we travel afar…” or “one in a taxi, one in a car…” Steady yourselves because I’m about to blow a Christmas myth wide open!

THERE. WERE. NOT. THREE. KINGS.

I can feel the shock-waves rippling away from me! I should be on QI! Only the gospel of Matthew mentions the Magi (wise men, not kings) and nowhere does it say that there were three of them. Matthew chapter 2 says:

1 Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men [1] from the east came to Jerusalem, 2 saying, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose [2] and have come to worship him.” 3 When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him; 4 and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. 5 They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it is written by the prophet:

6 “‘And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

who will shepherd my people Israel.’”

7 Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star had appeared. 8 And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.” 9 After listening to the king, they went on their way. And behold, the star that they had seen when it rose went before them until it came to rest over the place where the child was. 10 When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. 11 And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh. 12 And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.

[1] 2:1 Greek magi; also verses 7, 16 [2] 2:2 Or in the east; also verse 9

Wise men? Check. Three gifts? Check. Three wise men? Er….no. That was quite an assumption someone made there wasn’t it?! Anyway my point is, that for me at least, the most exciting part is not the Magi themselves but the gifts that they brought. Although please note that I do still maintain that Christmas is not about the presents! Gold, frankincense and myrrh eh? You might find some gold in your average Marks and Spencer catalogue but I think you’d be hard pushed to find either of the other two. The great thing about these gifts is that they were given to Jesus Christ specifically to point to what his life on earth was going to be about.

Gold – a gift for a king. The King. Not Elvis… ahem. Jesus. The King of the Jews. The Messiah, whom God promised to his people generations ago.

Frankincense – an ingredient in the production of incense. In the Old Testament incense was burnt as a sacrifice to God. It was holy and used when God was to come into the presence of the Israelites. Jesus was both God and man, truly and clearly in the presence of his people.

Myrrh – a fragrant material used not only in incense, but also as an embalming ointment. The gift of myrrh pointed to Christ’s ultimate reason for being born – to die.

Man, that’s just so cool! Well obviously not the fact that he had to die. But the fact that he did. And that these weird presents were saying just that!

Dictionary corner

2007-12-16T13:15:00.000Z

It disturbs me that the only things I can think of writing this morning are X-Factor or Strictly Come Dancing related. I refuse to dwell any longer on these things and I have a cunning plan to help me overcome this patch of writers' block. My secret weapon is the dictionary. Well it may not be quite so secret now, but you get my drift.

I hold within my hands a 2001 edition of the Oxford Concise English Dictionary. Momentarily I shall open it at random, with my eyes shut and pick a word using the age old art of pointing. I shall then hold forth with my knowledge of and feelings towards this word. It's a dangerous game (in the past some have likened it to Russian roulette) but I feel it is my only choice.

Here we go...

...and the word is: dirt bike (noun) - a motorcycle designed for use on rough terrain, especially in scrambling.

Fascinating I'm sure you'll agree. Dirt bikes eh? The type of sport that you only ever see on British Eurosport or late night Channel 5. It is strange how so many of us are happy to watch cars go round and round a flat, tarmaced surface but don't take any notice of the crazy loons on dirt-bikes; leaping, jumping and achieving feats which seem to defy gravity. If I was going to go and watch some sort of dirt bike activity I guess it would be the indoor trials that I've caught on TV a couple of times. It's kind of difficult to describe but it's akin to an obstacle course for bikes. Very springy and flexible bikes, but motorbikes none the less. The riders have to maneouvre these machines, not to mention themselves, around tyres, balance bars, huge piles of dirt - kind of like show-jumping but less pretty. Goodness knows how they do it. It must be frustrating when you have an incredible talent for something that no-one knows about! If they were footballers with the equivalent skills they'd be earning mountains of money and have supermodel (or at least popstar) girlfriends. Ah the dirt bike life is a tough one.

Calzaghe, my car and one very cold Giraffe-a-licious.

2007-12-11T19:00:00.000Z

Well darn my socks and call me Graham! The British public got it right for once. Joe Calzaghe victorious as BBC Sports Personality of the Year. Great a Lewis Hamilton fan as I am, it was a spot on decision for him to come second to Calzaghe. What's next I ask you? A deserving winner for Strictly Come Dancing in a couple of weeks? Perish the thought. I tell you, if that Eastenders kid wins I'm going to have some serious words to say on the subject.

Good grief it was cold today. All three (yes, three, count them) of our bird baths in the back garden were frozen over. Not that the birds were bothered. They were all in hiding, save one hardy blackbird. They made the right decision in staying out of sight today and not just because of the cold. Having got my car out of the garage this morning I noticed a delightful bit of bird graffiti. Sadly they don't have access to multi-coloured spray paints and so use what is readily available to them. I did contemplate giving the Tate Modern a call purporting to be an artist with a groundbreaking piece of work for them, but ultimately I decided that I didn't want to part with my beloved Skoda. I went at the bonnet with a sponge, scrubbing brush and ready supply of hot water. Honestly, someone should be selling this stuff as glue. I was an exhausted shell of a Giraffe-a-licous by the time I'd finished. We're a bird loving family in this house, but if I ever catch the varmint that made its own personal mark on my little Fabia I can't be held responsible for my actions.

Giraffe-a-licious's Guide to the BBC Sports Personality of the Year 2007

2007-12-07T13:07:00.000Z

It's that time of year again. The point at which we sport loving Brits have to decide which of our sportsmen and women will be awarded that much coveted silver camera trophy thingy. The Beeb announced its shortlist of 10 potential winners a little over a week ago.

So in order to help all of you sporting ignoramuses out there with the difficult choice that faces you, behold Giraffe-a-licious's Guide to the BBC Sports Personality of the Year 2007.

Contestant number one....come on down!

1.) Joe Calzaghe - boxing. Undisputed super-middleweight champion of the world. Welsh, but I'll try not to hold that against him. If his success had come in a sport more widely recognised in Britain then he'd be a shoe-in. Guaranteed to make top 3 but I'll be surprised if he wins.

2.) Lewis Hamilton - Formula One motosport. I love this guy. Runner-up in his first F1 season. Could have won it. Personally, I'd rather he didn't win the BBC award this year. Yes, he had an amazing rookie season but I don't like to see a nearly-man beat a true champion like Calzaghe. Hamilton will have plenty more opportunities to win it, no doubt once he is a world champion.

3.) Ricky Hatton - boxing. If Hatton beats Floyd Mayweather in the early hours of Sunday morning then there is no doubt that he will also be crowned Sports Personality of the Year. It feels as though the whole nation is behind him at the moment, even those of us who aren't really boxing fans. But if the arrogant, trash-talking Mayweather beats him then he'll be out of the running. All or nothing for Hatton.

4.) Andy Murray - tennis. Murray has done brilliantly this year to finish the season at 11th in world, having missed 3 months (including 2 grand slams) of competition with a wrist injury. In the same situation as Hamilton - a winner of the future.

5.) Christine Ohuruogu - athletics. World Champion at 400m. What a year for this gal. An absolutely awesome performance in Osaka. The controversy surrounding her missed drugs tests will prevent her from taking the BBC trophy home. However in my opinion she has proved her innocence and it would be great to see her back next year with an Olympic gold medal around her neck.

6.) Paula Radcliffe - athletics. Winner of the New York marathon just 10 months after giving birth to her first child. Great achievement but didn't compete enough this year to justify giving her the title. Previous winner in 2002.

7.) Jason Robinson - rugby union. This guy deserves a lifetime achievement award rather than just this year's gong. Inspirational for England during the World Cup but ultimately they didn't win the final. Now retired - could make it into the top 3 by way of 'thank you' votes.

8.) Justin Rose - golf. European Order of Merit winner. A great season for the 27 year old but for a golfer to make any headway in this competition he must have won a major. Stick him in the same box as Hamilton and Murray.

9.) James Toseland - motorsport, superbikes. World Champion for the second time this year and graduating to MotoGP next season. Sadly his sport is just too obscure for the average punter to recognise.

10.) Jonny Wilkinson - rugby. I get the feeling that Mr W would be highly embarrassed were he to win again (he previously won in 2003). Talismanic for England at the World Cup, he will always remain one of our most loved sportsmen. But he would be the first to admit that many on this shortlist have outshone him this year.

So there you go. No arguments please. "This is my word. And as such is beyond contestation." <-------- name the film! Not you Kate.

Ouch

2007-12-04T20:35:00.001Z

Exciting news. In case you haven't noticed the nice little image over there on the side bar - I'm blogging for Ouch! Ouch is the BBC's disability website and it's all very shiny and exciting. Have a look for yourself at www.bbc.co.uk/ouch

Practically it means that I'll probably be a little less frequent with my blogging here for a few weeks. However all my Ouch blogs will be disability related, so when I feel the need to sound off on something in the way of sport, film or Strictly Come Dancing then I'll be back to my lovely Ponderings and Ruminations. I shall not abandon her!

Give me a W! Give me an I! Give me an S! Give me a P! Give me an A!

2007-12-01T13:52:00.000Z

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get your hands on a Wispa at the moment? Well, obviously not as difficult as it was a few months ago before Cadbury's relaunched them, but they're selling like hot-cakes. Hmmm... do hot cakes genuinely sell more quickly than cold or room temperature cakes? I'm sure there's some sort of research study going on into it at the moment and in a few months time all will be revealed. No-one researches important things these days. It's always, 'which kind of biscuit gives optimum tea dunkage?' or 'if you put a wendy house in a field of cows, will they move into it?'

Anyway, Wispas. Oh how I adore them. To be honest up until a month or so ago I hadn't even realised that I missed them. Yet now that I know that they are out there just waiting to fulfil their Wispa destiny of melting wondrously in my mouth, I find it hard to think of anything else. That's the true reason for my lack of blogging recently. I've been roaming the towns of Britain hunting down the chocolatey goodness. I heard a couple of weeks ago that Woolworths were selling 3 for £1. But woe to me! I was too late in hearing the news. Other Wispa addicts had got their first. I've searched high and low in the supermarkets, but to no avail. The local shops don't have them. My mecca these last few weeks has been Blockbusters. Perhaps because of their ridiculous price tag of 55p each, they are the only shop I have found to have no problem with their Wispa stock. Although it does feel a little silly walking into a DVD rental shop and approaching the counter with just a couple of chocolate bars. But it is an embarrassment I can live with if it means I can hold the precious, life-sustaining, ecstasy-inducing Wispa in my unworthy hand.

All I require now is for Cadbury's to bring the Wispa Gold back. Now that was a real chocolate bar...

Beam me up Scotty

2007-11-28T10:44:00.000Z

Attention scientists!

Any chance of an update on the teleporting situation? I was under the impression that it would only be a matter of weeks until you would be able to report an astonishing breakthrough in the field of 'getting a person to somewhere else in the world without using a vehicle'.

It is not only I awaiting this great invention. My beloved sister is also hanging her hopes on it, although her desired destination is somewhat farther afield than my own. She wants to travel 4000 miles to Ohio. I just want to go into town without having to parallel park.

I experienced a rather frustrating morning a couple of days ago. I decided to drive into town knowing that I had a few errands to run, all of which were in roughly the same place. The shop I needed to visit is not well placed for parking but there is usually a space just outside (albeit double yellow-lined - no problem with a blue badge!). However on this particular day a van had decided to deposit itself there. I'm 99.99% sure that said van was not displaying a blue badge. But not to worry, I carried on down the road and spotted a disabled space. My delight was short lived as the car in front of me nabbed it. Grrr. Fine, I shall go to the library and then return to a host of spaces. Not so much a case of wishful thinking as a delusional episode. Following my trip to the library the van was still there, a disabled space was once again available and once again filled by the car just in front of me. Adding insult to injury there was then a space available but only to someone who can parallel park. I haven't done that successfully since my test over a year ago and instinctively knew that that wasn't likely to change without practice. So I headed home with only a couple of library books to show for my effort.

Do you now understand the need for a speedy solution? Teleporting is the answer. I've said it before and I'll say it again. There will be no need to hand out the ability right, left and centre. I propose that blue badge holders be automatically awarded teleport licenses and that other members of the population be able to apply for limited teleport status in specific circumstances. Gordon Brown has had a rough time of it lately. I really think that if he were to announce a well-funded research and development programme into teleportation, it would turn public opinion back in his favour!

Exodus, my foot

2007-11-25T22:43:00.000Z

I'm a bit slow off the mark with this particular blog. Last Tuesday Channel 4 showed a one-off drama called Exodus. It was an attempt to retell the biblical story of Moses and the Israelites escape from Egypt in a modern setting. I think it would be fair to say that few Christians would expect such a drama to be a stirring, accurate and interesting account of a vital part of the bible. But even given those caveats, Exodus was one of the most frustrating pieces of television I have witnessed.

The concept itself of moving the action into a contemporary setting was both sound and intriguing. So we had a dictator style politician (cunningly named Pharaoh) carrying out a sort of ethnic and class cleansing act, sending all the undesirables to live in Dreamland, an old run down ex-theme park type of place. The baby Moses was seen left on the beach for Pharaoh's wife to find, as his mother attempted to flee the military police. But once the concept was in place and the story began, the production ran into trouble.

Crucially the makers couldn't decide whether to either eschew the religious aspects completely or to keep the (let's face it, pretty vital) role of God in their drama. The result was a sort of airy-fairy spirituality, usually involving Moses hearing a lot of whispering. Rather than a burning bush, on fire yet not consumed, there was a bizarre man-made (and man-burned) giant wooden statue, strangely reminiscent of The Wicker Man! Instead of God and Moses having an amazing conversation in which God reveals his true name and character (Exodus Ch 3), there were simply a few whispered words which it seemed that a dead man was communicating rather than the Living God.

In this case, approaching Pharaoh and asking for the freedom of his people was really Moses's plan. He embarked on some sort of idealistic crusade which turned into sheer vigilantism. In the Bible all of the events are divinely inspired. God is in control at all times. It is he who commands, judges and redeems with perfect justice.

Horrifically in this new adaptation, the people created their own plagues! They launched computer viruses, genetically engineered a plague and put algae in the water to make it red and undrinkable. This is just terrorism. Worst of all, the Passover became a midwife bombing a baby clinic. That just made me feel sick.

The wonder of the Exodus story is in the amazing way that God keeps his promises and foretells the coming of Jesus, the ultimate Passover lamb. God was only mentioned by name 2 hours into the film. In trying to justify the atrocities committed Moses claims, "God told me to do it!" Has he been watching the same thing as I've been watching? Having spent so much for the running time hedging their bets on the God stuff, the makers then have the audacity to blame him for these completely human acts.

Come the end all pretence of remaining true to the Biblical story was abandoned. In a utterly baffling turn of events following Pharaoh's allowing the people to leave, firstly a civil war broke out amongst the 'Israelites' and the 'Egyptians' (in the Bible, the Egyptians give the Israelites all sorts of valuable items for them to take to the Promised Land), Moses briefly became a superhero (he jumped from a multi storey building to the ground without a scratch on him), he alone parted the sea and was then drowned! Utterly absurd. In truth, God led his people out of Egypt (literally, as a pillar of cloud and fire), through the Red Sea (drowning the chasing Pharaoh in judgment) and eventually to Mount Sinai where Moses received God's law.

I haven't even come close to describing the brilliance of the exodus; God so clearly at work and in control, protecting his people and redeeming them from slavery. The makers of Exodus should be ashamed of themselves. Not only was their programme insulting to millions of Bible believing Christians, but it was just bad TV.

We're on the ball...

2007-11-21T18:36:00.000Z

It's an unusual thing for me to be too busy too blog. Hmmm... that almost sounds as though I'm a pregnant, upper-class, too posh to push woman. Almost but not. Which is good. Because I am neither pregnant or upper-class.

Having said that I was busy, I am currently refining my elastic band flicking technique. Encouragingly I seem to be making good progress. At the very least my sister is starting to look a little nervous whenever I line up a shot at her.

Football tonight. I have mixed emotions. Whilst I am obviously keen for our lads to get the necessary result, I can't help but think that it might give a helpful kick up the backside to the national game if we failed to qualify. I'm not a great football fan at the best of times but it is patently obvious to me that the game has lately become distorted and damaged. I was rather cultured last night and watched a portion of the Alan Yentob BBC programme Imagine. One of the overriding themes of the film was the negligible relationship between the quality of art and the money it sells for. Well it appears to me that football has a similar problem. These days, at the top end of competition, the amount of money changing hands between clubs and players, fans, managers and shareholders has little to do with the actual value of a club's commodities. No footballer is worth over £100,000 a week. In fact in my opinion no footballer is worth more than £5,000 a week. Supporters shouldn't have to pay such extortionate ticket prices merely to line the already already heavy pockets of the players and club owners. Football needs to get back to football. There is only so much superficiality and glamour a sport can take before it ceases to be a sport. Rugby has the right balance at the moment but I shudder to think of a day when the current problems of football in this country are shared by rugby union. Football needs to stop the rot now. But it never will. Money is the only currency these days (please forgive the pun) and it'd be a foolish man to bet on that changing any time soon.

Shall we dance? Cha-cha-cha.

2007-11-18T12:34:00.000Z

I feel an urgent need to do something highbrow and cultured. I must purge myself of the tackiness I indulged in last night. What's more worrying is that it was the second Saturday in a row in which I partook of this particular brand of low brand entertainment.

I speak of the hours between 5:50pm and 9:30pm yesterday when I wallowed in a TV diet of Strictly Come Dancing and The X-Factor. What has happened to me? I have wandered into the realms of middle-aged women and teenage girls respectively. I ate my dinner in front of the box in order to watch John Barnes tango.

However, I shall not be coerced by Brucie or Dermott into picking up the phone and spending 25p on a pointless call. Never have I voted in these programmes and never shall I. Eurovision aside of course! This was the case even before all the phone-in scandals started to rear their ugly heads. I'm getting more than a little fed up with constantly hearing about fakery in the world of broadcasting.

Firstly, I accept that it is appalling that people are casting votes and entering competitions but not being included in the final result. Secondly, the BBC were indeed way out of line in manipulating footage of the Queen in order to create a buzz and an exciting trailer.

Despite these incidents, I am still fed up with the seemingly never-ending array of revelations concerning programmes such as Born Survivor and The F Word. Both Bear Grylls and Gordon Ramsey have come under attack for a lack of realism in their shows. Is it only me that has no problem with these so called cons? These are entertainment programmes! As long as the changes made aren't of the sort to hurt someone's reputation or character, then what's the fuss about?

It is just another symptom of political correctness and you really don't want to get me started on the whole, "Baa baa rainbow sheep," debacle.

M.E., NICE and me.

2007-11-16T10:48:00.000Z

Anyone remember this? http://giraffealicious.blogspot.com/2007/08/dear-sir.html

The 'yuppie flu' tag has raised its head once again in today's papers.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/11/16/nflu116.xml

Let's get one thing straight. I haven't seen these NICE (National Institute of Clinical Excellence, my foot) guidelines. I'm only going on what I've heard and read. Back in August, when I wrote the Dear Sir blog, it seemed that they were a positive thing. The media reported that NICE were demanding that M.E. be treated more seriously by the medical profession. A step forward I'm sure you'll agree. However, today it has emerged that their definition of treatment is the use of largely psychological therapies. It should be noted that I have no issue with the graded exercise also recommended, provided that it is carried out by well-informed, caring practitioners and that it does not become a license to bully sufferers.

The main reason for this information coming to light now appears to be that the One Click Group (a pressure group, although I'm not exactly sure what that is!) are taking NICE to court in an attempt to get the policy rewritten. They argue that NICE's guidelines imply that M.E. is all in the mind. If that is indeed the case then they are right to challenge the institute. M.E. has psychological elements tied up in it, all long-term illnesses do. It's hardly surprising for a patient with 10 years of misery behind them to experience some sort of depression. The important distinction to make is that the psychological treatments are for the depression, not the M.E. Psychological therapies have their place but are not a valid treatment of the very real, physical side of M.E.

The most grating thing about this whole debacle from my point of view is the use, once again, of the term 'yuppie flu'. It should be banned. It is referring to a group of people in a derogatory manner. You wouldn't get away with it if the group were defined by their religion, race, gender or sexuality. There is no reason that the media should be permitted to be so openly insulting to people united in the suffering of a serious illness.

F is for Frustration

2007-11-13T22:23:00.000Z

I'm aware that I have a rather skewed view of things on this subject, but I truly believe that there are few illnesses more frustrating than M.E. More serious? Yes. More debilitating? Of course. But pound for pound I warrant that M.E. takes the top prize in the frustration stakes.

I had a severe relapse in March of this year and symptoms wise ended up back where I was about 7 or 8 years ago. That was heartbreaking and I'm still coming to terms with the profound difference in the quality of life I experienced in 2006 compared to that of the past 8 months. Frustration doesn't even begin to describe the emotions.

But over the last few months things have started to improve. The pain has gradually lessened and I've been blessed with more energy. I've been able to get out of the house more, get back to a bit of volunteering, attend church regularly and go out with friends for a meal. I really thought that I'd turned a corner. Talk about counting your chickens.

The last few days have been horrible. The severe pain has returned, my extra strong painkillers take the edge off but I'm also incredibly tired. I'm still in some sort of denial stage. I know that I should be resting regularly and pacing myself more sensibly, but something inside me just wants to keep pushing, convinced that despite all evidence and experience to the contrary I can just fight my way through it. Unfortunately the only effective way to fight M.E. is to do the exact opposite. I have to accept the situation and act accordingly. Hence the frustration.

I'm not usually one to moan. My blog is probably indicative of this. I'm more likely to make a joke and laugh through the crisis than sit around feeling sorry for myself. The problem is that the illness leaves me with few other options. I'm pretty much restricted to sitting around at the moment and moping comes very easily in that situation.

I'm trying to think of something uplifting to end on but nothing's coming to me. Perhaps a silly, unrelated picture? That sounds good.

WANTED: Wood Pigeon

2007-11-11T10:09:00.000Z

I'm being haunted by a dead pigeon. I kid ye not. A recently deceased pigeon is stalking my dreams.

A couple of days ago I was quietly minding my own business when a huge thud of a noise reached my ears. On entering the kitchen I observed the unmistakable splatted shape of a pigeon against the window. There's not anything particularly unusual about that to be honest. Wood pigeons are the dumbest of the dumb and have an unnerving habit of flying head long into our windows. They usually wander around afterwards looking a little dazed and then head off on their merry way unhurt. Not this pigeon. He really must have been flying at quite a speed. He was sat a foot or so away from the window looking totally out of it. Being the kind, bird-loving, daughter of an RSPB employee, I thought I'd better take a closer look to see if he was hurt and if there was anything I could do about it. Things were looking pretty good to start with. As I approached the stunned, winged creature it jumped up and ran off down the garden. "Hurrah," I thought, " 'tis unharmed." I followed it with the intention of grabbing some seed from the feeders and taking it to the needy bird. I did so and scattered some of the feed around my new feathered acquaintance. Unfortunately the pigeon seemed not to share my feelings of friendship and promptly attempted to fly away. Attempted being the operative word. The darn thing couldn't fly. It must have hurt its wing in the crash and no matter how many times it endeavoured to hurl itself out of the garden, it couldn't make it. So I elected to leave him to it. At least without me around it wouldn't feel the need to make a forlorn break for freedom every other second.

A couple of hours later, mum got home and I related to her the tale of woe. She went out to the garden to see how P.I. Geon was getting on and couldn't find him! The garden was eerily quiet and there was not a pigeon to be found. We therefore came to the happy conclusion that it must have been a temporary wing related injury. The good old bird must have found himself a bit of that magic spray that physios use on rugby players, and upped and flown away. Woohoo!

Woohoo indeed. Except that for the last couple of nights the blinkin' bird has found its way into my dreams. It rebukes me for not helping it. I am to blame for its demise. It has conveniently forgotten the stupidity that led it to slam into a window in the first place. I can hear it pecking at my window. It's threatening to attack my arm and leave me for dead. So I call upon you, my dear blog readers, to help me in the tracking down of this ungrateful animal. Once found it shall be made to listen to and accept my side of the story and cease forthwith its hate campaign against me. If not, it shall face the consequences. I'm getting plans drawn up for a fully glass residence as I write.

An artist's impression of the guilty party

It's only words...

2007-11-08T12:08:00.000Z

SKY NEWS: Teenage girls around the world are celebrating following the news that Boyzone are getting back together...will reunite to perform a medley of hits on the Children In Need telethon later this month. Ronan Keating, 30, said: "After all the speculation, we are getting back together and we are very excited. "We have been talking about it for a while now and decided to go out there on our own and have a go at it."

No, no, no, no. A thousand times no. Ronan, Stephen, Shane, Keith, Mikey - this is a terrible idea. It can only end badly.

I was a huge Boyzone fan between the ages of eleven and fourteen. I was madly in love with Ronan. I barely listened to any other type of music (save the odd misguided foray into 911) and wouldn't hear a word said against them. Ah, the folly of youth.

Boyzone were a product of the time. Clean-cut and non-threatening, with nice songs that appealed to teenage girls and their mums alike; accomplished performers in the field of miming but with just about enough talent to pull off a live performance every so often. It's a different world these days. Looking pretty and singing nicely just isn't enough. Pop bands need to play their own instruments, write their own songs or at the very least have a bit of personality.

Take That were the first British boyband (I know that Boyzone are Irish but their primary market was the UK) and as such have a place in the heart of the country that Boyzone just do not have. Take That sang and danced. Boyzone sang and sat on stools. Take That's successful regeneration was down to their touring during last year. They were able to demonstrate such enthusiasm and energy that they gained enough momentum to carry themselves towards a new album. Boyzone have no chance of following suit. Nostalgic as it might be to watch them croon their way through the old hits, I highly doubt that it will create an appetite for new music amongst the general population.

It's a nice idea for them to reform for Children in Need. I have no qualms with that. But guys please leave it there. Take That's comeback has succeeded against the odds. What are the chances of that happening a second time?

P.S. Note to the Spice Girls - I'm not even going to begin listing my grievances against you and your second roll of the dice. Give it up and go home.

I'm gonna rock this country

2007-11-05T12:54:00.000Z

It hasn't stopped. My sister is back and yet I am still heading ever faster down the road to middle age. Soon I shall be indistinguishable from my mother. This is becoming something of a crisis. The most recent sign occurred last night. I watched, completely alone and of my own volition, a TOTP2 Country Music special. I shall pause here in order to allow you, my dear reader, to make the requisite shocked face.

Country music? What is happening to me? I think it must be Steve Wright's fault. His dulcet tones lulled me into submission. His voice-over appeared to be saying, "It's OK Giraffe-a-licious, if I am involved in this show then it can't be that bad." Why I listened to him I have no idea. He's a Radio 2 DJ for heavens sake! What epitomises the onset of middle age more than the transference of listener loyalty from Radio 1 to Radio 2?

Whatever the cause, the upshot is that I spent a full hour in the company of Kenny Rogers, The Dixie Chicks, Lonestar, Patsy Cline, Keith Urban, Shania Twain and co. Perhaps the only credible moment came from The Eagles' new song and video. I had a permanent hold on the remote in case someone should walk in and find me in such a compromising situation. "I was channel flicking! Honest."

Is there anyway back from this? I fear not. I imagine myself to have reached the edge of a dangerous precipice. Last night I found myself distracted by a Nashville cowboy and fell head first down the cliff. I just hope that there are enough undamaged pieces at the bottom for me to be able to put myself together again. It's not looking good...

Can you hear the drums, Fernando?

2007-11-03T13:42:00.001Z

It has finally been announced that former F1 world champion Fernando Alonso is to leave McLaren. Hardly surprising given the season just gone. I'm a hugely disillusioned former Alonso supporter. His rise to greatness and double world championship glory with Renault in 2005 and 2006 won him many fans. He seemed focused but fun, competitive but grounded. How wrong we were. His petulant behaviour this year, when confronted with such unexpectedly stiff competition from newcomer Lewis Hamilton, has been disappointing in the extreme. Great champions hate to lose, but lose they must at times and the measure of the man is in how he does so. Alonso chose to throw all his toys out of the pram. Instead of using the competition to motivate himself and prove himself a worthy champion, he resorted to mud-slinging and taking cheap shots at his team. Having been such a pro-Alonso viewer at the start of the season, it was a shock to find myself desiring a Raikkonen victory more than an Alonso win, when the racing climaxed in Brazil a couple of weeks ago. Little Lewis should have won it really. It was his to lose - 12 points ahead with 2 races left - he should have had it in the bag. But lest we forget, this was his first year in F1. His first drive at a number of the circuits. Yet he made an incredible impact. Surely it won't be many years before he makes that final step up.

I was much aggrieved to read of Max Moseley's comments in relation to Hamilton this week. In an interview with the BBC he claimed that the young man could have a negative effect on the sport. Negative? Excuse me? What on earth is he talking about? He said, "If he does the same thing next season as he's done this season, it will certainly have a big effect. It will start to be negative because we'll get the Schumacher effect where people start writing to me saying can't you do something to slow him down." The same as he's done this season? The tightest and most exciting year of F1 in eons? Where going into the final race there were three potential world champions? Hamilton didn't even win it! Moseley is the president of the FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile) and along with Bernie Ecclestone, to all intents and purposes the owner of F1, has a huge amount of influence over and control of the sport. It is irresponsible for him to speak out in this way. He is showing favouritism to other teams in doing so, and damaging the reputation of the sport he claims to be protecting. Two men should not have such almost monopolistic control over a world sport.

Lewis Hamilton has provided the dose of smelling salts that F1 needed. He and other young drivers such as Nico Rosberg and Robert Kubica are the future of this sport, not cronies like Moseley and Ecclestone.

Remember, remember...

2007-10-31T10:38:00.000Z

It's a strange time of year; Halloween tonight and Firework Night on Monday. As a Christian I'm not a fan of Halloween. Despite the fact that these days it is mostly just kids dressing up and asking for sweets, I'm still uneasy about the message it sends. No doubt most of them will turn out fine but it worries me that introducing children to the idea of spirits, witches and other dark stuff at such a young age, sets a dangerous precedent. I worry that once some of these kids reach their teenage years, they'll be so desensitised about this sort of thing that it will only be a small step to ouija boards and other dodgy stuff. Besides who needs two holidays in such close proximity to each other? Firework night is much more fun.

Although when one thinks about it more deeply, Firework night is pretty darn weird itself. If a terrorist plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament was thwarted today, can you imagine the country holding a festival to celebrate it 400 years later? Circumstances today are not so very far removed from back then. The terrorism in 1605 was a direct result of clashes between religions. Even so, I'm pretty sure there would just be a collective "Phew, that was close," and then we'd get on with life as normal. Would we be burning effigies of Osama Bin Laden on bonfires on the same day every year? I expect (and hope) not.

Incidentally do you think Robert Catesby would be a bit put out to know that Guy Fawkes got all the publicity? Catesby was the mastermind of the Gunpowder Plot but rarely gets a mention, save in history lessons at primary school. Fawkes was the man charged with setting the gunpowder alight so he got the spotlight. Even when it came to their executions Fawkes made the headlines. All were to be hung, drawn and quartered but Mr F managed to avoid the worst and most painful parts of the execution. Before being hung he jumped from the platform and broke his neck. Nice eh?

So I suppose what I'm saying is that we Brits are pretty weird with our celebrations. We really should come up with something to replace Halloween and Guy Fawkes Night. Suggestions on a postcard please. Anything involving cake will be very favourably looked upon.

LA

2007-10-29T13:10:00.000Z

Hi. My name's Giraffe-a-licious and I'm a listaholic.

Thank you for making me feel so welcome at this, my first Listaholic's Anonymous meeting. I can't quite pinpoint when my problem began. Perhaps it is genetic. My mum has a list problem too but has never confronted it. Not that I'm trying to shift the blame. I know this list-making is of my own doing and I am responsible for resolving it. It's a daily fight for me against bullet-points and the urge to alphabetise. There is something so satisfying about ticking off the items on a list. But once you've ticked one, you need to tick another and another until you realise that you can never find true fulfilment at the bottom of a list.

I write lists. I think lists. I actively search for other peoples' lists. It's taking over my life. The BBC released a list a few years ago of the Nation's Top 100 books. I have made it my goal to read all 100. I'm at 56 right now. I spend my days wading through Bleak House, convinced that Dickens wrote it merely to torture me and yet I must go on. I must complete the list.

Have you ever thought about the word 'listless'? The OCED defines it as "lacking energy or enthusiasm". That is me in a life without lists! A life without lists, be they shopping lists or to-do lists, is a life half lived. Brothers and sisters, join me in my joyous list-making! We can all live in a more organised, efficient world - what bliss!

So... will anyone be my sponsor?

Christmas, Cotton Traders and Charity Shops

2007-10-27T18:22:00.000+01:00

I'm concerned for my sanity. I think I've aged 20 years in the 3 months that my sister has been away on the other side of the pond. She may be picking up the accent but I've picked up some more disturbing habits.

It started quite innocently. I merely accompanied the parents on a visit to a bird reserve whilst on holiday. The next thing I knew I had an article in Birds magazine. I had started down a road that could only end in pain. Yesterday I found myself doing my Christmas shopping. In Marks & Spencer. I'm voluntarily listening to Radio 2. And last night I reached my lowest ebb. I found myself browsing through the Cotton Traders brochure. Great is my woe! I have betrayed my youth and embraced middle-age two decades too early. Only the return of my younger sister can save me now. Thursday cannot come too soon.

I apologise for bringing Christmas into these blog pages before the end of October. It is not by choice. A couple of days ago I heard Fairytale of New York on the radio and today I turned on the TV only to be confronted with Mistletoe and Wine on a music channel. I started my shopping out of necessity. I've found that a wheelchair and Christmas shopping make unhappy bedfellows. Crowds greatly increase the already not inconsiderable stress of navigating department stores. So as the organised world starts its shopping in November, I have to get started in October.

On a more satisfying note I discovered the world of charity shops yesterday. The perfect place to pick up books and films. Traditionally I'm a library girl when it comes to books but lately I have been very disappointed in their stock. Not only that but when I asked to reserve a title I was informed that it would cost me £1 whether or not they managed to locate the book! You don't go into a cafe and let the proprietor charge you £1 for a cup of tea, whether or not he can find the teabags! Anyway, as a result of visiting 3 charity shops yesterday I came away with 5 books and 3 films for under £10. What's more, that £10 is going to charidee, not to the local council that fund ridiculous art installations. Win-win. Read, view, take them back to the shops and they get sold again. Highly recommended.

School daze - that's an overused pun isn't it?

2007-10-24T13:00:00.000+01:00

I was watching Grosse Pointe Blank the other night. For those not in the know it's a 90s rom-com, but of a slightly more twisted variety than most. John Cusack plays a hitman returning to his home town for a high school reunion and meeting up again with his long lost love played by Minnie Driver. It got my thinking about school reunions. Being a mere stripling of 23 I haven't had to face that potential nightmare as yet and I'm desperately hoping that I never have to.

There are only two reasons to attend a school reunion. Curiosity and vanity. Curiosity to see how people have turned out and vanity because you are convinced that your life is better than theirs. What a sad waste of an evening. If you're rich and successful then you've not really gained anything from going. You're still rich and successful when you leave and have probably only succeeded in making a few people feel like failures. If you're struggling through life then you'll still be struggling when you leave and will have merely found a few more people to hate in life. People with kids will start wishing they didn't have them. People without kids will start to wish they did. It's a no-win situation. The grass is always greener and all that. Someone else's life may sound wonderful for those few hours but we never see the reality of it. School reunions are all about a facade. As soon as you step over the threshold you're suddenly and inexplicably enthusiastic about your life, career, children and everything else that you've been moaning about for the past 10 years.

Personally a school reunion is my worst nightmare because it is the place in the universe where you are most likely to be asked the, "So, what do you do?" question. Gah. Save me. The next time someone asks me that I think I'll take a leaf out of John Cusack's book - "I'm a professional killer." Cool. I'm pretty sure that at least 80% of the population are unhappy in their work so it's a nasty irony that we are constantly being defined by what we do rather than who we are. Sure, I've got my spiel - "Well not a lot actually. I've been ill with M.E. for 10 years which is quite rubbish but I do bits of voluntary work here and there." I'm as guilty as the next person though because I always seem to follow it up with, "and what about you?"

What is boils down to is that anyone that you really care about from your school days you'll still be in touch with. Death to school reunions! Pointless, miserable and fake.

Confessions of a Ridiculous Mind

2007-10-22T11:50:00.000+01:00

Whilst watching Michael Palin drive a steam train around Poland yesterday my mum uttered the immortal words, "Do you use a steering wheel to drive a train?" Ah mum. How I love her. This is also the woman who confused Bruce Willis with Bruce Lee. No mum, Bruce Willis isn't a dead martial arts expert and that isn't Bruce Lee running around Nakatomi Plaza out-witting Alan Rickman.

Sadly this tendancy of revealing a lack of understanding on certain matters (it's actually a rather sweet combination of naivety, innocence and ignorance) appears to be genetic. For years I thought that there were A LOT of Wombles in Wimbledon. I still maintain that error was the fault of whomsoever was hired to sing the theme tune. Think back will you? #...the Wombles of Wimbledon (singer takes breath), Common are we...# You see my problem? Either there are a vast number of them or they all speak Estuary English.

My biggest clanger came during a game of Absolute Balderdash. Evidently I had left my brain at the door that day because when tasked with inventing a feasible plot line for a film of which I had only the title, I somehow stumbled onto the brilliant idea of astronauts going to the moon and diving in the Sea of Tranquility. I was very proud of myself and certain I was destined to get a few points out of my clever story. That is until it was pointed out that the Sea of Tranquility is not exactly a sea and to the hilarity of many present I was left sadly trying to defend my theory of water on the moon. Not my finest hour.

I do a great line in misheard lyrics too. But perhaps that had best wait for another day. I can only take so much embarrassment at a time.

To whom it may concern

2007-10-19T14:54:00.000+01:00

Dear Kettering Borough Council

What the heck is wrong with you? A couple of days ago it was announced that you are commissioning a £48,000 piece of artwork for the town. Now I'm as much of an art fan as the next person (not too big a fan then obviously) but £48,000 worth of tax-payers' money going to create pieces of sculpture that would be called eye-sores if they weren't art, is absurd.

You have made a great deal of the fact that you're asking the members of the general public to vote and decide which of three designs we would most like to see. If you're going to that trouble could you not also have a 'no artwork' option? An opportunity for those of us who would like to see the money spent on maintaining roads, improving libraries or providing better school bus services, to make our feelings known.

Apparently artists were asked to design pieces that would 'create a link between three green spaces so visitors to Kettering could appreciate how the town fits together'. What utter claptrap. Firstly, visitors to Kettering? You're having a laugh right? I suppose it's conceivable that someone could get lost on the way to Cambridge or Birmingham and find themselves wandering the streets. Even if that were the case I'm not convinced that they are likely to be overcome with delight at the way that these three oddball sculptures reflect Kettering's togetherness.

It's not the first time that the council has done something like this. Back in 2005 you paid £10,000 for a monstrosity of a clock in the town centre. At least in this instance it was erected for a specific purpose - to celebrate 100 years of the Rotary Club - although how many of our town's residents actually know that is another matter.

I am fed up with local government complaining that it doesn't have enough money for vital services, upping the council tax and then spending out on such frivolous and pointless projects.

Yours grumpily
Giraffe-A-Licious

Words fail to describe just how horrific this clock is.

Nobody needs good Neighbours

2007-10-17T10:17:00.000+01:00

It's not often that I'm proud of myself but today I hold my head high. I haven't seen an episode of Neighbours for four months. I deserve a chip to carry around with me like in AA! Although to be fair I do have an inkling that it's probably a wee bit easier to stay clean of an Australian soap opera than the demon drink.

I can't remember when I first started watching Neighbours. My mum watched it so I probably first got hooked on a sick day off school. I've never watched any other soap and yet Neighbours sucked me in. Maybe it was the sunshine (although Home & Away had that too) or maybe the fact that it was more light-hearted than most other TV dramas? I don't know, but somehow it got its claws into me and hung on there for 10-15 years.

When I became ill with M.E. the addiction grew, worryingly but understandably fast. I was able to do so little that the TV took on a rather sad significance in my life. This is excusable. What is not, is the fact that even once I started to feel better and get out more, my day continued to revolve around Ramsey Street's residents. Of course it's only a 25 minute programme, that shouldn't cause too many problems. But the BBC are a canny bunch of schedulers when they want to be. Neighbours led to Doctors, Doctors to Murder She Wrote, then it was off to Channel 4 for Countdown and before I knew it two and a half hours had disappeared into the ether.

But I shall not dwell on these dark days for now I am cured! And it's all thanks to Wimbledon. They take Neighbours off the air for those two glorious weeks of tennis in the summer. This year, once I got to the end of the fortnight I realised that I didn't miss those Aussies one jot. I decided to see how I got on without dipping into the lives of Susan, Karl and co every day. That they had just killed off Stingray also helped in my decision making process - a clanger of an error in my mind! Well what do you know? I survived. In fact I felt far better. I read or wrote or rested or just watched the world go by out of my window - all of it more productive than those hours in front of the gogglebox. Because by doing away with Neighbours, I also got rid of Doctors and in turn Murder, She Wrote. I have had the odd foray into the world of Jessica Fletcher since then I'll admit, but you can't beat a bit of Angela Lansbury detective work!

So dear readers, I am free. Those strangely bronzed Aussies hold no sway over me now. So they can move it to Channel 5 for all I care. I just hope that the rest of the soaps follow shortly.

Old before my time

2007-10-15T12:19:00.000+01:00

They say you’re as young as you feel. Well, that puts me at about 80 then. I get the feeling that there’s a spritely granny in Weston-super-Mare or some such seaside town running around with my youth. Not only do I creak when I bend down (or up if I get that far) but I have recently developed some other, distinctly pensioner like tendencies.

I hold forth on the state of society and bemoan the lack of respect present in young people today. I am constantly expressing my surprise at the youth of the weathermen. I lament the demise of the English language, its grammar and punctuation. I can’t understand why half the female population of Britain are content to show such quantities of flesh in summer, or these days even in winter! I despair at the amounts of money spent on weddings. I bewail the modern society’s reliance on technology and it’s idolisation of beauty and fashion. I hate the fact that it is no longer safe for children to play outside without constant supervision. I long for the days when you could ring your bank and speak to a real, living, breathing person from your local branch. I’m constantly frustrated by this generation’s ignorance of British history and the men and women who fought for our freedom. I fail to comprehend the appeal of so-called ‘celebrities’ and the national interest in every aspect of their lives.

And what’s more, I have this overwhelming desire to share my opinions with anyone unlucky enough to cross my path. Sorry.

Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot

2007-10-14T12:11:00.000+01:00

Is it possible to get a hangover without alcohol? That seems to be the case for me this morning. I blame the England rugby team. Did they not read my post on adrenaline? They're cruel men, putting me through the wringer like that. Funnily enough I don't exactly have my blogging head on at this very moment. However, having had a quick skim read of the sports pages this morning, I felt I had to share a few words with those of you who aren't fortunate enough to read the Daily Telegraph.

Paul Ackford's column reports on England's preparation for yesterday's match and contains a number of jokes apparently doing the rounds in the form of texts, in the wake of the quarter-final results last weekend.

What's the difference between the All Blacks and a teabag?
The teabag stays in the cup longer.

What's the difference between an Aussie and a 747?
The 747 stops whining when it lands.

Which video has Wales's caretaker coach been watching lately?
Free Willy. It's the last time whales got out of their pool.

Genius.

More Gore

2007-10-12T13:43:00.000+01:00

So I've just heard that Al Gore has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. What the dickens? Kudos to him for his environmental work but the peace prize? His work has probably created more confrontations (albeit important ones) between scientists, politicians and the like. It's a weird world.

An Inconvenient Possibility?

2007-10-12T10:56:00.000+01:00

This week saw Al Gore’s controversial, Oscar-winning documentary ‘An Inconvenient Truth’ making headlines once more. This time it was all to do with a High Court Ruling on the use of the film in British schools. A school governor had brought the case to court amid concerns that the film was being distributed and viewed without explanatory material necessary to give a balanced view on the issue of climate change.

The film was described as an ‘alarmist shockumentary’. The judge, who ruled that the film may continue to be shown in schools providing that the required guidance notes, noted a number of alleged exaggerations and errors in Gore’s film mostly with regard to the wording and time scales used and the presentation of hypothesis as scientific fact.

Now an admission; I’m one of those people who has an opinion without having seen the film. I do have a copy in the house. It is one of a number of ‘should-see’ films on a shelf gathering unhealthy amounts of dust. I should also probably mention that I am pretty much the first person to get annoyed when others start ranting away on their pet-subjects without having all their facts straight. But nevertheless I have decided that this being my blog, I am perfectly entitled to hold double standards within its pages! And so…

It’s pretty clear to me that there is a decent amount of truth and scientific proof in most of Mr. Gore’s arguments. There has been concern over CO2 levels for years and the effects it could be having on the environment. Yes, the film was probably a little one sided but surely that was the point? Numerous scientific documentaries have been made on the subject with few results. A ‘shockumentary’ is just what the world needed; a kick up the backside to get both governments and consumers to make changes to their policies and lifestyles. Whether or not Gore is correct and greenhouse gases are fully to blame for global warming is irrelevant. There is enough evidence that they are part of the problem. Ever heard of Pascal’s wager? Summarised, it reads as follows: "If God does not exist, the Atheist loses little by believing in him and gains little by not believing. If God does exist, the Atheist gains eternal life by believing and loses an infinite good by not believing." Now I’m not going to get into the philosophical and religious implications of this statement. I merely want to apply the theory to An Inconvenient Truth.

If Gore is wrong, the world loses little by both listening to him and making changes accordingly, and by not listening to him. If Gore is right, the world gains a huge amount by listening to him and loses greatly by ignoring him. Weighing these two options up, the obvious conclusion is surely that it is a great deal safer to listen to and act on Gore’s (and much of the scientific community’s) words than to ignore it.

Even if you don’t hold with that, take pity on the poor chap. There aren’t many men in the world to win the popular vote in an election but ultimately lose out to a monkey in a suit.

Lies and power

2007-10-10T11:07:00.000+01:00

The political landscape in Britain has got a little more interesting over the past couple of weeks. Following on from David Cameron's address at the Tory conference the Conservatives seem to have staged a mini-revival. Or at least gained enough momentum to make Gordon Brown think again about holding a snap election.

As a former Economics A-level student I watched with interest yesterday (well that may be exaggerating a little, but I expect I watched with more interest than your average Briton) as Alistair Darling laid out his tax and spending plans for the future in his Pre-Budget Report and Spending Review. No yawning at the back there please. It had its entertaining moments but no matter how amusing it was to see the Chancellor and George Osbourne go at each other after the statement, my main issue with politics and politicians in general still remains and in my opinion taints and makes the void the point of having debate such as this in the House of Commons. Politicians lie. Not a new revelation I know but the bulk of my frustration comes from the way that they not only lie but avoid answering straight questions with straight answers. I've lost count of the number of times I have seen or heard interviews with MPs where to all intents and purposes the interviewer need not be there. The answers given bear no relation to the questions asked and it drives me loopy.

Politicians are the drug-taking athletes of the governmental world. How many times have we heard disgraced sportsmen protesting that they had no choice but to take whatever illegal substance they have chosen to imbibe if they wanted to be in with a chance of winning? They claim that almost all athletes are taking these performance enhancing substances and that they are merely trying to make it a level playing field. Well in the political arena I've no doubt that the same claims are made, albeit non-verbally, when attempting to justify the lies and question dodging. Let's say that a truly honest politician appears on the scene and is attempting to compete with the Browns and Camerons of this world in a general election. Elections and government in general is ultimately all about promises; what can they promise and who do the population believe will help us the most? A government has limited resources and so must decide which areas of society need the most funding and help. The honest man knows that and so will lay out his plans truthfully, identifying the areas he feels are most in need and admitting that other matters will have to be put on the back burner for the moment. The average politician does not do that. He/she will promise almost everything to everyone despite knowing that such plans are completely untenable. What's the result? The liar gets into power because he has promised more and the honest man heads home with nothing but his integrity. Thus the cycle of lying politicians continues.

Some may say I'm too cynical. Perhaps they're right. If I feel like this at 23, how bitter and twisted will I be by the time I'm 70? But as Catchphrase always taught me, I say what I see. What we need is two truthful politicians to enable honest debates and straightforward promises. What's that I see on the horizon? Oh it's a squadron of flying pigs...

TV Traitor

2007-10-08T18:18:00.001+01:00

I like to think that I'm fairly patriotic and do my bit in waving the flag for British goods and services. There's no better chocolate than Cadbury's and no-one does News like the British media. But news is just one part of the media and sadly when it comes to TV quality in general, Britain has been in freefall lately, slipping down the international rankings further with each new unoriginal reality show and soap. Every successful show is instantly copied by its rival channels, perhaps with a few added extras to give the illusion of innovation. These look-a-likes then clog up the schedules for months, if not years, to come. Daytime staples Bargain Hunt; Cash in the Attic; Flog It; Car Booty - is there really any difference between them all? Then there are the likes of Move to the Country; A Place in the Sun; Location, Location, Location; To Buy or Not to Buy; Homes Under The Hammer - save me from this housing-related avalanche of drivel. The majority of British so-called-drama are soaps in disguise. Either that or murder mysteries and police procedurals. Is it not surprising that many TV viewers are now rejecting British programmes in favour of the American imports?

Sad to say, I'm one of them. Unlike others however, I am not under the illusion that all American TV is good TV. I have no doubt that their schedules are just as, if not more heavy laden with cheap and tacky shows as our own. But the difference is that when something is good over there, it's very good. I would love it if British TV could produce shows with the quality of Heroes, Prison Break, The West Wing, Alias, Without A Trace, ER and 24 but it just hasn't happened yet. The nearest we've got is probably BBC's Spooks - genuinely gripping television and yet it still lacks something. I'm never all that bothered if I miss an episode of Spooks and yet when some of the aforementioned American shows are on I never fail to set my video recorder. I don't know what the solution is. If I did then I'd probably be lobbying to become the Director General of the BBC. What I am sure of is that the answer is not more commercial channels. ITV's content is downright awful at the moment. Unless there's a sporting event of particular interest to me, I never watch it. Channel 4 seem to rely too much on the American imports (until Rupert Murdoch nicks them and takes them off to Sky One). They and Channel 5 are also culpable when it comes to making documentaries with overly sensationalised titles. No matter how moving a programme may be it's difficult to take something seriously when you're constantly reminded that the title is something along the lines of 'The Boy With Two Heads'. And don't get me started on the dross that fills the schedules of most digital and cable channels.

I wonder whether in the future we'll see a society increasingly returning to books for entertainment. It would be no bad thing and I've no doubt there is more amusement and interest to found within the pages of a Jane Austen novel than a hundred episodes of Deal or No Deal.