Celebrity Ski Yoghurt and Horse Devours Darling

Well folks we have done what I never thought that we would get around to doing. You see Mrs. B and I are very good at talking about what we are going to do, but not that good at getting around to the actual doing of it. So, surprise-surprise when en-route back from York; ‘the Boss’, AKA Mrs B explained that she wanted to go on a cruise and I went and booked one.

So here we are on the Celebrity Eclipse and it meets the hype. I was told that this was as good as it gets and guess what? The lovely Thomas Cook lady was right. This is indeed the Hilton 5* hotels at their very best with brass knobs on top. Pure luxury on each and every deck and so big that I keep finding new gems every hour or so.

The lovely chap at the hotel yesterday said words to the affect of “oh, so you’re going skiing?” “Huh?” replied I, “Spending Kids Inheritance” he countered. Yes indeed, and a blinking good job too. That is, I’m have a jolly good stab at spending the lot. It may be the price of a small car, but it’s a jolly nice car, and I’m well impressed.

The best bit is that there is no need for any of you to worry about the house back in Wales. One of the children is there with Yoghurt Boy on guard duty with the perimeter almost as well lit as the Celebrity Eclipse. Albeit the lights from the house are not reflecting on the water as we glide onwards to Gibraltar. I also recognise that the two back in Wales, would appreciate a bit of the 5* service and food while crewing the Watch Tower.

On the Celebrity Eclipse it is astonishing food. I enjoyed the champers followed by the cheese burger relaxing in the sun around mid afternoon prior to our 2045 dinner sitting. Thankfully being a lad from the gasworks, it all began with an appetiser and not ‘Horse Devours’ as one of my gang likes to say it. It’s good to be reminded of your roots. A listing in Burkes Peerage and Gentry ain’t much good if you forget the gasworks. It is wonderful service, wonderful venue, wonderful food, and wonderful company. We are extremely fortunate to be on a table with four other guests, all of whom flew across 'The Pond' to catch the ship in Southampton. One hails from the Americas who collected her granddaughter in Washington DC en-route to the U.K. and the other two from the South. All genuine lovely people so it couldn’t be better.

So for the Thomas Cook Aberystwyth crew if you are reading this: (1) we got an upgrade and our stateroom is stunning. So much room we could breed a flock of sheep. I could also feed them on the grass on the upper decks, and exercise them around the running track, (2) yep, it was a double hit folks; we also got our preferred 2045 dinner sitting, and (3) parking was a breeze and the Cruise Parking team were lovely, (4) gratuities were paid for in advance in that price, and yet another well done as (5) the drinks package is handy and good value. Well, as well as being from the gasworks I am also a Cardi and we mustn’t forget that!

Gosh, its day one and I already feel as if I am a celebrity. It doesn’t get much better than this, now I have to start saving for the next one.

Celebrity Cruise Tip 1: Book with Thomas Cook, Aberystwyth
Celebrity Cruise Tip 2: Bring along a coloured highlighter pen to highlight items in the daily detailed itinerary, and thereby reduce your chance of missing something special

Extra, Extra - read all about it - 4 Bedroom House in Aberystwyth for sale

Well the 'Daily Blog' is back. Its demise was not linked to the NoW crisis, and when I say 'back', I actually mean that it is for this teaser session. Well it was put on hold because Mr Tister was home! And the lovely little fella made his way back to London today. So the 'Daily Blog' well more 'Weekend Magazine' than a 'Daily Blog' is back on track.

So as you can see from the heading our lovely four bedroom home near to Aberystwyth is for sale. But that's not the big news, the really, really big news. No that begins on Saturday and runs for two weeks or so if I can get an Internet connection. Meanwhile feast your eyes on this lovely detached house for sale in Aberystwyth. The selling agents await your call; 4 bedrooms in Penrhyncoch in the County of Ceredigion. Accompanied viewing through the selling agents will continue even if we are away because we can't afford to take everyone with us and the house is therefore occupied. So don't put off until next year, that which you could do in 2011.

This has been a true family home for our Family History contribution. It was big enough for lots of family there with us (and sometimes without us when we are off out and about) and with four double sized bedrooms it has been a great place. But now is the time to set forth onto pastures new and closer to some of our family. Or as one of my former friends once said; "as one chapter ends, another chapter begins".

Keep well Bloggers, and don't forget to pop back on Saturday night when I shall try to reveal what we are up to while the gang enjoy looking after our home.

Selling agent Lloyd Herbert & Jones
http://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-34505984.html

Daily Blog

Hi everyone, I apologise for not writing much this week but we have been away, I have been trying to relax, and the brilliant news is that Mr Tister is home on one of his lovely visits. It all began a few weeks back with a repetitive "I neeeeeeeeed Grandad" followed by, "Grandad we're coming", only to be informed that they were on their way to Tesco, and not our home on the coast. Poor thing, he must have been crest fallen. But the next day they set out on their seven and a half hour adventure.

Mr Tister is like a whirlwind; and has even taken to encouraging me to make a few things. This morning it was Duplo Space Ships with "four, two, three, balst off" (nope it's not a spelling mistake), whereas this afternoon we dismantled the started and never finished 'n' gauge railway in order to make a flat board and keep it simple i.e. the trains go round and round. You see like Tom on the Apprentice I am also a starter-none-finisher. It started when I became ill and hasn't really re-engaged. I know that I do it, but I can't seem to shake it off. The commentary from Mr Tister has included; "Come-on Grandad" and "Grandad, where are you", and even "Oh, traiiiinsssSSSS! Choo CHOOOOOO". Brilliant; health, happiness and family, that is all that matters.

I have so much to tell you, but as is so often the case there is so much else impacting on my time and focus. Well writing is a passion, but you have to be up for it, even when dealing with your passions. There have been 362 posts over three years, so on average it appears to be one post every three days. Mind you, like today, some days I write more than one post. You know the feeling; when some days are good and other days are bad. So it is more akin to one post every 3.5 days or two posts per week. I'm more of a "Weekend Magazine" than a "Daily Blog". But the frequency is not just about ability, passion, enthusiasm or any other impact. One of my close friends is unwell at the moment and I feel for him as I have been through the wringer so many times. Well, three times to be precise.

So I do apologise that the writing is more often than not ad-hoc rather than 'Daily', but the best intentions are there. When I do pen something you can be assured that it really feels good this end. So with Mr Tister around; the Blog can be placed on the back burner for a few days or at least until late at night. But whoever you are and wherever you are, I sincerely hope that you enjoy and continue to enjoy good health.

The Apprentice

Don't read this if you have taped the programme and foolishly several days later still haven't watched it, but are dumb enough to trawl the Internet!


Well folks back in May 2011 the day after the first episode I blogged amongst others things; "My money is on the inventor". Well that was a very good call indeed as my two preferred candidates made it to The Final, and Tom the Dyslexia sufferer won. Well done Tom, you were a great contestant, you came across as a lovely chap, and you offer hope to Dyslexia sufferers everywhere.

Plus a big well done to Lord Sugar for continuing to run with the series and thereby providing lots of business ideas and experience to thousands upon thousands of people. No wonder he is a Lord.

Old boot Car Boot

Now I quite like a good old Car Boot Sale; as there's always a chance that you will meet someone interesting, maybe see something worth buying, and of course there's all that 'lovely lolly'. But there is a downside to lazing away a Sunday morning. No, not the lack of exercise, but the lack of impact that your money will have to help those who are less fortunate than ourselves.

I have spent quite a few months whiling away the hours downsizing our possessions. That which is worthy of resale has been distributed to Wales Air Ambulance, Oxfam, Tenovus, and Barnardo's. In fact, for all but the Wales Air Ambulance; I am a Gift Aid Card carrier. What we give, is in fact seriously important stuff. Not the physical items, but the actual act of gifting. So as nice as a good old Car Boot Sale is; the charitable need far outweighs having a jolly good day out and collecting a few bob.

So this morning I have been pottering around and putting out some rubbish (that which isn't passed on, tends to be recycled, but some of course to my eternal shame can only go into land-fill). I have booted up the Laptop to say hello to all Bloggers, and now intend to paint the downstairs toilet. But the most important jobs of today are all happening later this afternoon. That is when I leave the village to travel into town and drop off a large box of items for Oxfam, another large box of items for the Air Ambulance (whom I note sold our dining table and chairs this week [thankfully it was the donated one, and not the small one we are using this evening!]) and a large bag of clothes to Barnardo's.

I'm also popping in to hand over a small monetary donation to the current DEC (Disasters Emergency Committee) Appeal. Those affected by the drought in East Africa really do need I help. Nearly all of us can spare a few bob, and think of that the next time you want to take yourself to an old Car Boot Sale to turn your stuff into cash.

What you get, you will flitter away in almost an instant, but what you donate will save at least one life

.

Sir Henry Morgan

I have mentioned more than once on these Blogging pages that Mrs B. and I enjoy our food. We have eaten in some very nice places and in some of these very nice places we have been served some dreadful food. Maybe we are a bit unusual because on more than one occasion we have paid for our main course and left without eating it.

If we are off out for grub then we are not going to endure the ‘ping’ of the microwave or try to eat a steak where the chef doesn’t know the difference between braised and ‘medium rare’. Unless we are having a Nepalese or Indian meal, then we also don’t want food that is soaked in a sauce in order to hide the quality of the produce. In simple terms Mrs B and I want good food, well prepped and cooked well.

We had planned to visit what we know is an extremely good steak house in the Bay in Cardiff. But those who follow the Blog will know that I am a fatalist. Things happen for a reason, and when I suggested to someone that we were popping over the road for a lunchtime drink (non alcoholic thank you), they recommended The Sir Henry Morgan further down the road. Good choice folks as the nice clean pub had a suitable nice clean and large car park. I like a bit of leather, which is why in many ways I like the Volvo brand. Quality comes at a price and The Sir Henry Morgan like Volvo didn’t disappoint. Our lunchtime drinks, newspaper and nibbles went down a treat. The friendly staff mentioned the menu without being pushy. We both cast an eye over the well laid out double page, and decided to cancel our Bay idea and instead book a table for dinner.

Quite a few hours later after a hectic day in the City we trundled back by cab. Yet another pleasant welcome and a table already set with our names chalked on a small slate table mat. Nice touch, great smells, great anticipation. I can’t tell you what Mrs. B’s food was like, as she eats hers, and I eat mine. There’s none of this silly double spoon food sharing malarkey with us. But I must say that her cod starters looked exceptional and based on what was said at the time, the taste and texture matched the image. I can however wholly recommend the asparagus and poached egg. I’m a bit of a poached egg aficionado. Whenever we stay in the Hilton or the Marriott I always ask for two poached eggs with my breakfast. Our eldest Jodi can do a mean poached egg, equal to any 5* chef. Ok, I have to admit it; so can The Sir Henry Morgan.

Now Mrs B and I do like a bit of variety, you know, it being the spice of life etc. But on this occasion we were both drawn to the steak accompanied by homemade chips cooked in beef dripping. None of this ‘cook it until it flames’ with us, after a spot of touring in France, its medium rare at the most. The best way to sum up the main course is to mention the conversation between us and the group opposite. He and I speaking simultaneously both came out with the phrase; “that was probably the best steak that I have ever had in the U.K.“


The Sir Henry Morgan
635 Newport Road, Rumney. Cardiff
02920361311
Opinion: Fine dining at IKEA prices
Probably best to book for Friday or Saturday evening

Where is the NoW? And on Being Bonkers

In my last Blog post, I asked where the other news was. Maybe I should have asked where is the News of the World?

You have to be extremely naive to believe that spying including phone hacking is a new phenomenon. There are many examples of tape cassette recording, secret filming, telephone and room bugging of individuals to get a story. Best part is; this type of behaviour is nothing new. So maybe we have to ask ourselves what is new about what the News of the World has been accused of? Has our tolerance threshold for such behaviour declined, or is there some other influence that has caused the collapse of what is (was) the best selling Sunday newspaper.

You don't get that many readers from being useless or average, and you don't get that many stories from phone hacking.

To be perfectly honest with you, I am a (London) Times and Sunday Times reader. But I was shocked when I heard that the News of the World was closing. I mean lets be real, if you had sat at a table with a few friends a decade ago and one of them said; "In the next ten years, Woolworths will close, so will MFI, and Focus, and Habitat, oh and the News of the World", you would have quite rightly thought that he or she were completely and utterly bonkers. I mean, these were all institutions. OK, Focus wasn't right up there with the others. But hey ho, I'm sure that you get my drift.

I was so shocked about the News of the World, that this morning I had a copy of the last ever edition delivered to our hotel room. Along with my Sunday Times of course. "Hey, Mrs. B" I say, as I'm walking back into the room having just closed the door and with the two papers folded together. "I have the Sunday Times, do you want a read?"

"Yes," comes the reply, "chuck it on the bed and I'll have a look later." To which I respond as I swiftly take the goodies from behind my favourite read, "Oh, I've also got the News of the World!".

"Brilliant, pass it here" as she instantly starts the read. Sort of says it all, doesn't it? The fools, they should have sacked anyone who was to blame and ridden out the storm. Better still, they could have outed them all one at a time each and every Sunday and we would have queued to buy the next edition to see who was going to prison that week. It would have made a great serial. They could have even put a strap line under their Heading;

The News of the World
No hacking - only sacking

They missed a great opportunity, because everyone loves a bad boy turned good. Especially if others think that they had something to do with the cleansing. They may be rich and they may be powerful, but sometimes the best in the land could do with an impartial opinion of a qualified strategist. You have to look beyond the 'quick win'. There's no point in dumping a winning formula, if by doing so you run the risk of dumping everything else. I think that it was a big mistake, but then again, I'm not a billionaire so what do I know?

So what's next; 'the SUNday'

But where is the other News?

The level of reporting for the Stephen Lawrence murder trial may be correct, but there is certain other news that seems to have slipped from our radar. I would like to know what is happening to Ms Sakineh Ashtiani in Iran.

If the lack of news reporting is keeping her alive, then due credit to the Iranian authorities. We can all be quick to condemn but it's also important to give credit where it is due.

Now would be an excellent time for Iran to release Ms Ashtiani. To do so would be to seize the moral high ground in this saga. As any decision to release Ms Ashtiani would be made without any obvious external influence or pressure. Therefore Iran would be doing so of their own accord as a sovereign nation. The Iranian authorities could make the move and taunt the West. Especially if they accepted the Brazilian offer to grant Ms Ashtiani asylum. By taking this action, the Iranian authorities would be creating a win-win situation. They would seize the moral high ground, remove the problem to another Continent, and make new friends.

If you stop and think about it, then you realise that it's all too easy. But if it's not happening, then I would like to see some news coverage so that the case of Ms Ashtiani is not forgotten.

News

Yes the Stephen Lawrence murder trial, is in the news, but the story is not being reported at a level that I would have previously expected. Has society changed, or are the media backing off in case they hash this one up? I think it's more about the latter. The story is well known; black youth minding his own business, attacked by racist thugs and slaughtered in the street. You know the kind of story, little people, who are very brave in a gang. Especially when armed with a knife, and with the intent to use it on someone at some point in time.

The murder was sad enough, but the act was compounded by what appeared at the time to be poor policing. It led to a failed private prosecution and an enquiry.

I sincerely hope that the news is in many ways suppressed, if only so that at last justice can be done. If they did it then they go away for a very long time, and if they didn't do it then they walk free. The most important part being that the jury is not tainted by reporting and emotions, but instead consider the evidence and the pleadings as presented to them in the court room.

I was particularly pleased when I found the latest update in the (London) Times way back on page 28 or so. The small amount that was written and its position in the paper was relevant to the story as it now unfolds.

Independence Day

Most people will know that the 4th July is Independence Day across the Pond. As well as being an important anniversary for our American cousins, the date also holds fond memories for me. You see I was promoted to the giddy heights of Leading Fireman (the then correct term) on the 4th July 1986. I have always thought of that date as my Independence Day. Trying to gain promotion from the mass of firefighters was never going to be easy.

I had two written examinations to pass before I could proceed to the next bit. I struggled with the theoretical examination and managed to pass one paper and to fail the other. So for the next twelve months I worked really hard to understand that which I previously could not grasp. The examinations came around and I passed the paper. Which was all well and good, except I went and failed the paper that I had passed twelve months earlier. Then I met Mrs B and her Dad. A lovely man, the Dad that is, and Don set me on the straight and narrow. I remember living in our flat in Maindee in Newport South Wales, when I opened the results letter from the Fire Services Examinations Board after my third attempt at the Leading Fireman theoretical examination. I also remember all the whooping and shouting when I read that I had passed both papers.

This was all well and good, but in many ways it was also only phase one of the process. It simply meant that I was now eligible to sit the practical examination. Which was no mean task, as it involved detailing and controlling other firefighters undertaking physical drills contained in the Manual of Firemanship Drill Book, along with convincing several examiners that you could explain accurately and to a great level of detail two items of equipment selected by the Board. Which meant understanding technical notes, having working experience of the selected equipment, and grasping the detail in yet another Manual of Firemanship Book about equipment. But it didn't stop there, as other Manual of Firemanship Books contained this and that detail about those or other pieces of equipment and you had to know all of that as well. The thing is, I passed first time. No fluke mind you, simply sheer hard work and determination to succeed.

So there I was, now qualified for promotion to the rank of Leading Fireman. Only qualified mind you, there was no guarantee that I would ever get promoted. Then on Independence Day I was shortlisted along with four others for one vacancy at New Inn. And to be absolutely blunt about it, I was the underdog. There were four front runners of which one of two were certain to get it, and I was there for the ride. I went in first and after the interview I was ushered into a separate room. One by one the others joined me. In my ignorance, when the senior officer came in and called out my name, I truly thought that I was getting a bollocking. Hey ho, congratulations and all of that. The panel with the Deputy Chief Fire Officer and Elected Members deemed me suitable and I was duly appointed.

So you see; Independence Day means different things to different people, and not just in the United States of America. I hope that you had a lovely day, as lovely as the day I had all those years back, and again on the 4th July when I relaxed, reflected, and enjoyed time with family and friends. It was a great day, as indeed the Fourth of July should always be.

Expansion and busy bees

Yep, it may be a shrinking world, but what really gets me is that there is so much going on.

If Facebook is anything to go by, then Jeffers Ghana had a great adventure in part of the airport the other day. Lucky for him that he was trying to pay some import duty and not trying to accompany a friend through to the departure lounge. They don't like that sort of thing in Accra. You only get past the armed guard if you are flying that day. Pilot, Stewardess, or someone with valid travel documents.

But the parcels bit seems a tad more relaxed than the people bit. Electricity and back up generator failure meant lowering an electrical cable out of the window to hook up the supply from somewhere else. Jeffers then popped off to get some petrol to help with starting the standby generator. Gosh, Health and Safety would have a fit back in the UK. People with petrol, cables out of windows, hooking up to a supply from goodness knows where and in whatever condition. The worrying thing about this story is that it all appears to be so matter of fact. As if it's an everyday occurrence to lob the cable out of the window and to go off hunting for petrol. Well I suppose that in some ways it does beat hunting for tigers. Maybe the mid day sun had got to everyone. Indeed when I first read the story, I sent a message, enquiring if Jeffers had changed jobs.

And there was me, thinking that I was a busy bee. You see I have been pottering around outside for a few days and hence the lapse with the Blog. Well, I suppose that the fine sunshine here in Wales was always going to lead to some tidying up in the garden. Mmmmm, almost enough space for me to build an outdoor model railway. Well, maybe not, as Mrs B will have something to say about that idea. Still, I'm in her good books as along with the tidying I also managed to complete a few of those DIY tasks that us men, seem to forever put off for another day.

With it all looking so nice, I wonder if I can convince Jeffers and Tammy to pop over from Africa to enjoy our warm weather and Welsh hospitality? Now that would make for a good 2011.

Shrinking World

I find it astonishing that people from 43 countries have read this Blog. The highest number of readers come from in descending order; the United Kingdom, the United States of America, Ghana, and Brazil. In the last couple of days, readers from six States across the Pond have been reading the Blog. That’s interesting because I didn’t think that any of the recent posts were particularly relevant to my American cousins.

Then again, what attracted those readers from Turkey, Romania, Poland and the like? It’s just wonderful, not that so many people read my rambling, but that we are in the position to ramble and to be read.

It wasn’t that many years ago that I entered a department store in Bristol and as I went up the escalator, a chap was descending on the other side with a box in one hand, a lead coming from that box, and a phone in his other hand on which he was talking to someone. I gazed at him in awe. Me, the chap from the gasworks who had to walk two streets to push my coins into the telephone kiosk, after my statutory twenty minute wait stood in the cold and rain with others in the queue waiting for someone to run out of money and end their call.

Who could have thought at that time that we would have a thing call the Web, and hand held phones that would access the Web or call and text anywhere in the World. Oh gosh the words ‘Web’ and ‘Text’ would have caused serious confusion at that time. We have progressed at a phenomenal technological rate, to a position where we have the facilities to readily and effectively engage with others throughout the world. It’s simply astonishing.

Doing the right thing

I don’t mind losing because I never try to win.

I try to remain detached, and try and fight the issues involved in the way that I believe each situation or problem should be highlighted. Everything that I have ever done has always been about doing the right thing. I have never knowingly embarked on a project or made a decision that in some way was about or involved getting one over on the other side. If I needed someone to do something, then the likelihood was that I believed that others would benefit. When I have stood up for something, it is because I truly believed that the something deserved to be aired. I have strong views and am opinionated because I believe that some things are worth saying.

The world would probably be a better place if people made decisions and engaged in events as participants rather than competitors.

Maybe a little bit of humility, coupled with a willingness to see the other point of view, would go an awful long way. Instead of opposing one another; working together to find a relevant and equitable solution to the problem. You do not have to win to succeed.

We should look at problems on the basis of what is fair, equitable and right. What should we do to put it all straight? What can we do to make the outcome successful? Maybe we cannot do what is right for everyone, all of the time, but much of what we do, can and should be towards the greater good. So the next time you are trying to stick someone (an individual or a group), please stop and remember these are real people that you are dealing with. People, who, like you, have the same or similar; fears, aspirations, needs, and desires. If you ignore this and go ahead and stick them anyway, then remember that in many ways, you have also ‘stuck’ yourself; as you become a lesser person through your behaviour.

Well done to Justice Secretary Ken Clarke

A big well done to Justice Secretary Ken Clarke regarding his announcement today (29 June, 2011) of an intention to clarify the law regarding defending yourself when you find an intruder inside your property. I particularly welcome the remarks attributed to Mr Clarke that appear to suggest that ‘Reasonable Force’ may include killing an intruder providing that they are not running away from you, and you are not chasing them down the street as they attempt to flee. Nobody wants to see anyone die before their time, but as I have mentioned in two previous postings; a person faced with an intruder whether masked or not will at that moment in time, quite rightly and probably without exception be overcome with fear.

The size, physical strength, or professional background will not deviate from that fear. No one will know why the intruder is there, and the bottom line is that a reasonable person will be expecting violence against them or other members of their family.

I also welcome the comment from Mr Ken Clarke that; “nobody should be prosecuted and nobody should ever convict anybody who takes these steps”. I for one could not have convicted a person who harmed anyone who broke into their home and which they came face to face with. It is great news that the lawmakers have recognised that doubts in the existing law require clarity, and great news that the Coalition Government are doing something worthwhile and significant for all citizens.

Anyone who wants to break into a person’s home is welcome to do so as that is their choice. But in making that choice, please remember the new rule: ‘intruders beware’. You may get stuck with a knife, bludgeoned or strangled to death. The person who does it to you will not be prosecuted because of a new law that may recognise that an intrusion brings fear, and fear causes a reaction. Norbert Elias has taught us that fear drives people to act, and it is great news that as the law is developed it will recognise this response to fear. The new law will provide legal protection for those who are unfortunate to meet face to face with an intruder, and that fleeting moment where they will believe themselves to be vulnerable.

Well done Ken Clarke, and well done to David Cameron for supporting the move.

Stop rushing and top up the 'to do list'

In addition to my airbrushing blog post (You know, the one about things that you can't do and then suddenly it clicks) the following points have now been learnt:

Yellow paint airbrushed onto grey primer = gold and not yellow. It's best to prime with white when using light colours for the top coat.

Thinners isn't paint cleaner and that is now on my 'to do list'. I need to go and buy the correct cleaner for the paints that I use. The problem is I am using so many different kinds of paints. Model car paints, real car paints, and non car paints. Some water based and others not. I have cleaner for my water based paints, and Tamiya thinners works a treat with Tamiya paints; it's the other lot that are causing the problems. Now there's a lot of trial and error going on here, but I am pleased to announce that my current bit of spraying is all done. My mini air compressor is almost silent running, and my large cardboard box spray booth works a treat when resting on top of my donkeys years old workmate.

The spraying job was for 50mm edges for a Scalextric layout that I am building on a 4' by 4' board. The 50mm wide curved edges allow the cars to splay out on the bends. The edges are cut from laminate flooring (which is the same height as the Scalextric track) and smoothed with glass paper. Thereafter each edge was sprayed with Halfords Grey Primer. When dry, I used masking tape to break each piece into 50mm segments from either end and then decided on blue, green, white, yellow, and red colours. The next type of edging that I am modelling is the barriers around the outside curves and inside the tunnels. This barrier will be out of 60mm high strips of hardboard that are sprayed white base coat and then a single colour along each length. Possibly 'change purple' (changes colour with varying light). But that's tomorrow or the next day and today is about today's problems and solutions. The downside for the Scalextric track widening edges, was that the second lot of masking lifted the yellow as if it was plastic. The yellow paint was a water based paint with 'reducer' (like a thinners but also aids drying) added. I decided to re-mask and re-spray the yellow, and this time I used 'low tack' masking tape bought this afternoon. Not that low tack mind you, as it managed to lift bits of the red paint.

Lesson to learn: don't be in a rush and let things dry out properly.

Ghanaian Choco

Now there's a rare treat back in Wales. One of the gang bought me a small slab of Ghanaian Chocolate amongst other presents for Father's Day. If you have never tried any folks, then the best way I can describe it; is like our dark chocolate, but an awful lot stronger.

The sort of taste that if it wasn't 'your cup of tea', then a nice ice cold Pear Cider would be an ideal accompaniment. If you get my drift. It certainly isn't like our Cadbury's. Then again, that isn't everyone's cup of tea either. I prefer Cadbury to most, but then again you can't beat a good Thorntons. Apparently Cocoa is so important to the Ghanaian economy that the Cocoa Board has a Cabinet level politician and Cocoa is the second highest earner of export dollars for Ghana. The bottom line regarding the chocolate, is that what we think is good, isn't always regarded as that good by others. So trying to compare Ghanaian chocolate with ours is a tad difficult. The chocolate is so different, that for me, it is like trying to compare apples with oranges. But remember, Ghana export so much of their quality cocoa, it's highly likely that your favourite nibble has some in its recipe, or is made up entirely of Ghanaian Cocoa Beans.

Ghanaian Chocolate; "It's chocolate, Jim, but not as we know it."

Thingamajig and Mathematics et al

I have mentioned in a previous Blog posting how we like to think that we are good at something and then someone comes along who is a whole lot better at the same task.

The other side to this position in life is those things that we are not very good at. Indeed sometimes, we are so bad that we are next to useless. Then all of a sudden something clicks and we are up and running. Worse still, all too often we don’t actually know what influenced the change.

Quite a few years back, mathematics was my “thing that I can’t do”. I recall my friend Adam explaining that it was not magic, and that there were a series of rules that had to be understood and then applied as appropriate to whatever mathematical problem was being scrutinised. Don’t ask me how, probably with the help of Adam, Daniel, and Joe; I overcame the mental block and went on to score an astonishing 86% in my University examination. It sort of clicked.

My latest ‘Wall’ is airbrushing. As an accomplished artist, it follows that I should be reasonably good. With a few degrees behind me, it also follows that I should understand the principles involved and be able to work through to find the solutions. But that has not been the case. Maybe, some of the problems are from being unwell, maybe there was a lack of confidence, but whatever the problem, not only was the ‘Wall’ still intact, but it had started to get bigger. Now there's nothing worse than a big wall when you aren't capable of climbing.

Then suddenly, for absolutely no good reason (other than stumbling upon a few solutions through trial and error) I am now wondering what all of the fuss was about. The 'capability' started off by accidentally putting the thinners into the mixing pot that connects to the airbrush and then adding the paint. This ensures that the thick paint doesn't clog the paint flow orifice from the paint holding pot into the airbrush and go on to clog the airbrush nozzle as well. Adding the thinners first, ensures that no clogging occurs. Followed by realising that airbrush nibs (the type that I use) come apart into three sections, all of which were easy to clean in water. Then I worked out that you layer it and wait between coats for the paint to dry. And don’t forget to blast it off to one side (in the cardboard box that doubles as my spray booth) before sweeping a stroke across the object that is being sprayed. The reason for that is to ensure that any start-up droplets (instead of the required and previously often hoped for, fine mist) land on the box and not the object being sprayed.

So says the man who up until a few days ago couldn’t get any of the nibs to work, didn’t know that they came apart, and didn’t know how to mix paint for airbrushing. I also didn’t understand what the variable thingamajig on the airbrush was for. Then out of the blue it all comes together.

It’s a strange world isn’t it?

Salford Burglary

For several reasons the media coverage of the Salford Burglary, represents an important part of the civilising process of the United Kingdom.

The coverage demonstrates the current freedom in this country that enables fair and accurate reporting. The detail contained in the reporting also suggests that the current law may be wrong when a householder is faced with an intruder, irrespective of whether or not that intruder is wearing a mask. The burglary and the untimely death of a criminal in many ways shows us that our laws, reporting systems, ideals, and beliefs, are subject to advancement and improvement.

But what strikes at the core for me; is this idea of 'defending your property'. I have explained in an earlier post, that any person faced with hearing or seeing an intruder in their home will at that precise moment be faced with absolute terror. There will be no thought about 'reasonable force', the 'rights of the criminal', or the 'defence of my property'. It will be a case of 'flight behavior'; with or without bowel movement, raised alertness, increased heart rate, sweating and so on.

The occupier will not know if the intruder is there to steal, or to rape, or to beat, or to kill.

So can we all please stop going on about 'his right to defend his property'. No one is defending their property, because the mere presence of an intruder whether masked or not, and whether alone or accompanied, whether armed or unarmed, for that precise moment in time is a real and absolute threat to the safety of the occupier and his or her family.

If you decide to break in, and as a result you are killed, then tough luck. No one deliberately set out at the start of that day to kill you. No one plotted your demise. You chose to break in, and the consequences of your act, should be yours alone.

The current debate is almost as fundamental as the last significant change in law, when those who stole a sheep or lamb would not be convicted by a jury who knew that they would be hung for the offence. Instead the punishment became deportation, and at that point jurors began to convict again.

The law is wrong regarding the need to attack an intruder. There is a need, simply because the occupier is in fear of his or her safety and the safety of anyone else in the household. The law has to be changed and that change needs to be well publicised by the media. Everyone should know that if you break into a property, then you run the risk of injury or death. This risk should include no legal consequence against the true victim i.e. the law abiding citizen at home who upon hearing or seeing an intruder is struck with fear.

Peter Flanagan should not be charged with any crime.

A home is a Castle

If a gang of people in the current example, or a single person breaks into someones home, then by doing so, they automatically scare the shit out of the occupier. Let's be straight here; the intruder doesn't have to do anything. The mere act of breaking in is enough, as any reasonable person would be terrified to hear or see a stranger who has broken into their home.

At that point, no one should act surprised if an intruder is killed. An Englishman's home is his Castle. The person who committed the crime, made a decision to cross the threshold into a property belonging to someone else. No one made anyone commit the crime, the act was based on choice.

If a person wants to live their life to the full; then they need to choose not to break into a persons home. The breaking and entering at the point of entry is an unknown act containing at that point in time, an unknown intent to steal, or rape, or beat, or to kill. It is an initial act, that is leading towards something unknown that will naturally place the occupier or occupiers in fear of their safety.

The occupier does not know if you have come to steal, or rape, or beat, or to kill. My view for what it is worth; is that the rights of an individual are automatically forfeited the moment that they break into a property belonging to someone else. There can be no scale of 'reasonable force'. The victim will be terrified as to why the intruder is there. The victim will not be thinking of reasonable force, and will only (and quite rightly) be thinking of self preservation.

The law should be 'Intruder Beware'. You choose, and if you get hurt or killed; then it was your choice. It is as simple as that, and the law needs to be changed to protect those who are faced with an intruder inside their home.

G-Mac

I don't know who to congratulate first; Rory McIlroy for his stunning performance in winning the 111th U.S. Open, or my friend Francis Cole-Davies on the birth of his first born. Both are significant events for each of them, their family, and their friend, but yet each event is also so different.

Mind you, the feelings of elation, and thoughts about what the future holds probably applies equally to both events that happened yesterday.

I shall get around to writing the next poem in due course, but this one was written this afternoon before I heard the news from my friend.

G-Mac

Who is this McIlroy,
A young son of Ulster,
Age only twenty two,
With a very long swing,
To enhance his golf game.

You know, the one that won,
The U.S. Open that time,
This Ulsterman Rory,
Whose putting did bring,
A top Major to name.

Yes, I know the one,
Scoring minus sixteen,
Over those four long days,
Again did Ireland win,
Golf shall not be the same.

From Holywood this Champion,
Youngest since twenty three,
Two six and eight, his run,
Ball flying like a wing,
Maryland Rory did tame.



Roger Bennett
June 2011

The poem consists of four stanzas set out as a quintet with three feet per line. As usual I exercise my right to be known as the author if anyone tries to use my poem.

Father’s Day 2011

I am extremely fortunate to have a caring family and this has been a great Father's Day. The pressies and cards that I opened this morning were complimented by the long phones calls from my chicks that live away. The weather has been lovely and I enjoyed the walk along the promenade in Aberystwyth, the model making outdoors, and the coffee break in Costa that gave me the opportunity to write another poem. This was all topped off by a three course stunning delight served up by Mrs. B

Father’s Day Menu 2011

To Start
Roasted garlic and goat’s cheese toasted on bloomer with chorizo and sweet lettuce salad

To Continue
Oven baked Salmon with butter, cream, dill, and spring onions sauce on sliced and Roasted New potatoes with peas, broccoli and oven baked carrots with olive oil

To Conclude
Homemade double layer strawberry cheesecake with strawberry coulis and fresh cream with strawberries dipped in chocolate

Well done everyone, and thank you for a great day.

A Shakespearean Sonnet

I have just written my first ever Shakespearean (English) Sonnet, consisting of 14 lines in 'iambic pentameter' (that's five feet where each foot has two syllables stressed and unstressed). With each of the first three stanzas being a quatrain of four lines. Finished off by a fourth and final stanza that is a couplet consisting of only two lines.

Unfortunately I am unable to replicate the sonnet at this moment in time on my Blog; as the sonnet was written by yours truly to celebrate our forthcoming anniversary.

I warned her that if she doesn't behave then I will go out and buy a card instead. Oh power, it's brilliant. And do you know the best bit? Well after parking my car in trouble free parking heaven in Aberystwyth yet again, I then sat in my favourite coffee shop and had the joy of using the Waterman fountain pen that the gang bought me when I retired. It was lovely as a cartridge pen, but like the Gold Sheaffer that the Executive Suite bought me, I sourced Piston Fillers from across The Pond and when they arrived, I popped them into the barrels. Pure bliss, great fun and for me quite uplifting.

Oh joy, oh joy for paper and ink and the time to think.

:-) Happy days

Alice Pyne

If you are ever feeling down, then go to: http://alicepyne.blogspot.com and read that Blog and be very grateful for everything you have and will ever have. The power of the Media and the Internet to bring information into your life that otherwise would have slipped you by. I cried when I read the article in the Times newspaper while sipping coffee in a coffee shop in Carmarthen, and I cried again when I used my Xperia X10 to access the Blog a few minutes later.

Joss Stone

I was appalled at the news story that broke yesterday regarding Joss Stone and the stuff that those who have been charged allegedly had in their car. This led me to write a poem about the Joss Stone story. It sickens me that people go and plot and plan the way that they do; with total disregard to their fellow human beings. Let's hope that those involved get what they fully deserve and that Joss Stone lives life safely.

Joss Stone

Rejoice to those who spotted the duo,
And for making the emergency call,
Praise the officers taking the lead,
And to those who searched the Punto.

Two now charged and unable to blag,
Why they were there at all,
Banged to rights they will plead,
The reasons why a sword and body-bag.

And when the jury find the guilt,
The two from Manchester shall fall,
Locked away so that others heed,
What happens if blood could be spilt.

Roger Bennett, June 2011

As always I reserve and execute my right to be identified as the author of this poem if anyone lifts it and uses it elsewhere. Oh, and some dosh please if you are a newspaper or other high volume reader organisation, as I'm just a poor pensioner. Tee he hee :-)

Parking in Aberystwyth

What's all this rubbish about Parking in Aberystwyth? I take my car into the centre of Aberystwyth every day, and I mean every day; even Saturdays and Sundays. For me the Parking Wardens going in Aberystwyth has not been a bad thing. Not because I haven't picked up any more tickets, but because I have been able to park my car legally and with ease every day since they have gone. Indeed, parking for me has become easier and not more difficult. Better still someone else said the same thing this afternoon about where he parks. And two others said similar yesterday. The press and the media coverage does not seem to reflect what is happening on the street. I'm not saying that it is bad reporting, but maybe it is poor informing. The media report what they are told.

So I have to ask; who is creating this story and for what reason? Is the real story about generating interest about the location, and thereby creating an improved tourism economy through product awareness?

Because parking is not a problem, far from it. The parking in Aberystwyth has never been any better, and the truth is that everyone is being sensible and Roger gets a legal space every day. Let's all hope that the story goes away and those in power don't waste public taxes on employing traffic wardens in the future. Instead put up a few automated enforcement cameras in the key locations such as the narrow part of High Street where illegal parking could prevent an Ambulance or Fire Engine getting through (High Street is a side street), and on Pier Street where the situation was no better with the traffic wardens as anyone with a blue disk - could and always did and still do - block the street and reduce it to a one vehicle width while the purpose built Disabled Car Park at the bottom of Aberystwyth usually remains half empty.

Better still folks, how much do you pay to park in the centre of your town? I park in the centre of mine legally for several hours almost seven days a week on road and free of charge. Work that one out and then tell me there's a problem, as many who read this would love to be in that position in their town centre.

Free parking - legally parked - space every time I look - space every day - space at peak afternoon times and Saturday morning times - no cost - no hassle - space found very quickly - a different space every time. Can someone please tell me where the Parking Problem is in Aberystwyth because I haven't found it yet!

Seeing others do it right

Most of us like to think of ourselves as being good at something. But all too often someone comes along who is far better.

I particularly like making models out of waste material, you know scenery and the like. These can be used for wargaming, scalextric and model trains. As good as I am, I always seem to put off completing the big project. Maybe it's the stress of making such a huge commitment, or maybe it's the uncertainty about how it will all finish up. I've started two, but they're now just abandoned projects. Starting out with certainty, purpose, and energy. But quickly becoming anxiety and depressing and in dire need to be cast off to think of doing something else.

When it comes to building a model railway, I know that it is an awful lot of hard work, and an extremely time consuming process (says the man that has never completed a layout). So it really got to me with this months 'Model Rail' magazine (June 2011 Edition £3.55) to see two layouts built to an astonishingly high standard in two months and seven months respectively. One in 'n' gauge with its realistic setting and superb viaduct, and the other in '00' scale that looks like the real thing. Indeed, at first glance I thought the photo on the front cover was the life version, and only when reading the article inside did it dawn on me that it was not.

Slow slow Blogger

Sorry folks, but I haven't felt well of late so the Blogging is a bit erratic

London Olympics 2012

The Olympic ticket selling methods for London2012 don't seem to have done anyone many favours. We put in some healthy bids for the family but didn't realise that we should have bid as five separate people using our various bank accounts and not one family member trying for us all. We got two tickets, but then again many people got none. When I mention 'many' I should of course written 'several hundred thousand'. My disappointment, meant that I had to write some poetry.

So here is a Roger Bennett Poem regarding London 2012

Olympics

My Olympic money was here,
But now it’s gone,
For what and when I don’t know,
But for others there is none.

Oh London 2012,
You confused me with your ruse,
Not to sell the tickets,
Even to your muse.

I thought it was a celebration,
Chance to see the best,
Let’s hope there’s no black market,
But bidding like the rest.

Track, field or equestrian,
The system doesn’t say
My mind was blank,
But yet you made me pay.

How I longed to be there for you,
At this feast of sport,
But now watching television,
I shan’t be your cohort.

Roger Bennett, 01 June 2011

As usual I exercise my right to be identified as the author of this piece under the Design and Patents Act etc., but providing you add my name and the date, plus the webpage address, then you are welcome to spread the poem.

It could be worse the Olympics could have been in another Continent. Oh, it doesn't matter as I'm not able to go anyway even though it's where I live. What a let down. One chance for many people and we don't get it right. Oh, deary me.

Stephen Lawrence

It's wonderful news to hear that two men are to face trial for the 1993 murder of Black Teenager Stephen Lawrence. The death of Stephen Lawrence without a criminal case being brought by the State; has always been a blight on the justice system of the United Kingdom. It may be 18 years after the event, but the young man who was stabbed to death allegedly, simply because he was black, deserves the Justice of a trial for the accused.

I suspect that the trial will be a fair and equitable affair.

Everyone will have equal chance to convince those that sit in judgement that certain things did or did not happen and that certain people were either there or not. I suspect that all in all, the fairness of the process can be regarded as something that was not afforded to Stephen Lawrence when he was chosen to be killed. On that occasion it was the worse kind of cowardice, a gang of men. It is a pity that only two of them are being brought to trial and that the whole lot of them haven't been rounded up. Nevertheless, it is a significant step forward and everyone who has been involved in bringing the prosecution, should be justifiably proud.

No pre-judgement, no unfair trial, just a trial of the facts by a jury of your peers and if you did it then you done it, and it's as simple as that. And if you didn't do it, then you have nothing to worry about as an advocate will plead your innocence on your behalf and thereby convince those that sit in judgement to let you free.

Stephen Lawrence
Born 13 September 1974
Age when murdered 18
Status A Level Student
Date of Murder 22 April 1993
Method of MurderStabbed
Location of Murder Bus stop in Eltham, South East London

The following quote is cited as being attributed to the mother or Stephen Lawrence "...had he been given the chance to survive maybe he would have been the one to bridge the gap between black and white because he didn't distinguish between black or white. He saw people as people." Chapter 4, Stephen Lawrence Enquiry 4.7 Doreen Lawrence ended her statement with these words:-

Compilation

The Poetry is going well, the Swimming is going well, and a few other things are going well. So I'm sat tight waiting for the bubble to burst. Well its burst already, but when things go wrong they tend to keep on going that way. We been contacted regarding that thing that I'm not writing about, a strange sort of contact as three letters that the allege that they sent never arrived. But this one did, so very strange indeed. Hey ho, just more problems to deal with. Then there's the coincidence. Nothing to do with the thing that I don't write about, but a lot to do with something else from last year. Very strange indeed, and as a fatalist, I simply don't believe in coincidence. Everything happens for a purpose, so there's a few loose ends that need to be tied up so I know what is going on with this one.

Meanwhile, I am chugging along with the poetry. I am trying to construct one in recognition of a Double George Medal winner who also won an MBE for Gallantry. A brave chap indeed, so my effort has to match the magnitude of the task in hand.

As for 'Zulu Rising' a fantastic retelling of an important part of British history. The farming warrior class of the Zulu nation was no match for the industrialisation of the British. Now don't get me wrong, the Zulu's out fought, out 'generalled' and out everything else compared to the British. But spears and hide shields are no match for a Gatlin Gun, Canon, and an endless supply of troops with the best weapons. The logistics and stealth was extremely impressive as well. We can recall the Zulu victory at Isandlwana as a matter of vast numbers against a badly weakened force who's perimeter was stretched, but come on folks, 25,000 warriors without being detected moved that close to the British camp. And anyway, the General didn't have to half his force and leave unclear orders. Nope, if he was so intent on chasing around the country killing the natives for no good reason at all, then there would have been better structure to the situation. Then again, the British wouldn't have been there in the first place.

Now that's a bit like the thing that I don't write about. A little bit of forethought and consideration by the other side, and we wouldn't be where we are today. If I win, I shall of course write and awful lot about everything, and remember, it ain't libel or slander if you did it!

Meanwhile, verse 7 has to be compiled. Then when its all done, I have to read it out to a few people, and if they like the finished product, then it will be posted on the Blog.

The WInd

One of my daughters believes that poetry is an expression of creativity. The following attempt at creating a poem; consists of six verses each of four lines. The first and third line of each verse consists of only two words, whereas the second and fourth line of each verse consists of three words.

The sixth verse is made up of one line from the first, third, and fifth verses and finished with a finale.

The lines from the first, third, and fifth verse are the first relevant line i.e. the first ‘two word’ or the first ‘three word’ line as appropriate from each of the selected verses running in sequence.

I thought of the concept for the poem ‘The Wind’ on a fine evening walking along the prom with no wind present. The poem took approximately ten to fifteen minutes to write, and had two word changes after the first draft, and an ‘s’ added to two other words. The hardest part of the poem was constructing the fourth verse. I knew that something was needed in that part in order to move the then fourth verse to become the fifth and thereby fit the end verse grabbing of elements from the first, third and fifth verses.

I’m not sure if the beer helped, but I wrote four poems that evening, of which this the second of the four. One of my daughters refers to it as ‘haunting’ and asked me if “...they are really coming to you on the spot?” Well, the honest answer to that is ‘yes’. The second of my efforts on the 11 May 2011 is the most superior (if that’s the correct terminology to use) of the four. Although I do like my first attempt that evening as well. Maybe I shall Blog that one on another occasion along with ‘The Girl with the Blue Dragon Eyes’ that was written back in April. Another of my poems appears in the Blog near to Valentine’s Day 2011.

When reciting ‘The Wind’ my intention would be to speak smoothly and slowly. If standing, then with an upright poise but with the head slightly bent forward and downwards as if to imitate the struggle. I would say the first line of verse one, and then pause for effect, before continuing with the poem. There would be a ‘knowing nod’ during the third and fourth lines of verse one. For verse two I would look at the audience for the first two lines to engage them into agreeing with what is being said, before looking downwards for the third and fourth lines of the second verse. I would look up again at the audience from the third line of the third verse. ‘Death’ is the order of the day, and the audience need to be fully engaged for this point. The intention and the need for ‘rest’ in the fourth verse would mean looking upwards while reciting the whole of the fourth verse. The fourth verse is also about securing help to maintain the effort, the upward look being somehow a cry for help and intervention.

The struggle of the fifth verse would be relayed by the forward downward positioning of the head. I would maintain the same positioning for the last verse, other than the second line where I would look at and engage with the audience. I would read the first line of the last verse exactly, like reading the first line of the first verse as explained earlier. But then again what do I know? I have probably overplayed the card, and your anticipation of the poem could hurry on a period of deflation when you have read it, and then wonder what all the fuss was about. Oh, just in case this or any other poem that I have written are any good, then please note that;

“The right of Roger Bennett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988...”

The Wind

It bit,
Its grip tightening,
The howl,
Was extremely frightening

Not cool,
But very cold,
My skin,
Felt extremely old

Its harshness,
Took my breath,
This wind,
Could cause death

To sleep,
Would be wonderful,
To dream,
Could be colourful

I moved,
Two steps forwards,
One back,
But still onwards

It bit,
Took my breath,
I moved,
And avoided death


Roger Bennett
May 2011

The Apprentice

There’s one thing that you have to say about each and every one of those that commit to BBC and Lord Sugar show ‘The Apprentice’ (BBC weekdays); they all have belief in themselves. I mean who in their right would during a time of recession give up paid employment to take a chance? It may be the ‘pessimistic me’ but if Lord Sugar called me up and asked me to give up work and appear in the Final of the Apprentice with only one other opponent, then my extremely smart answer would have to be a resounding ‘no’.

It’s not because I retired young and don’t have to work, it’s all about the fact that the other person will win. 'Yes' I do want a job, and I mean forget that I understand planning, strategy, entrepreneurism and the like. It’s just a case that everyone including Lord Sugar will like the other finalist and find a way to let me know that I didn’t get the job. Not because I am unlikeable, it's just how these things go. Now if I am bright enough to recognise that two people isn’t a 50-50 chance, then what are the odds when there are eleven others and a huge number of tasks and board meetings to get through. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you have to shine while nearly everyone else throws a knife or tries to hoist you up onto a meat hook. Well I'm used to that part, in fact I am a seasoned campaigner at dodging knifes thrown by those who ain't that good.

Now I’m also pretty good at identify the patsy at the start of each series. That is the first person to go, every time a new group assembles. Once I picked the correct person simply from the pictures in the 'Radio Times'. Well ‘pretty good’ probably underplays my knack. You see, it’s 100% since the programme began.

Now that looks good on paper, but if we contextualise the statement, then maybe we recognise that when the programme airs, I don’t even know if the ‘boys’ or the ‘girls’ win the first task. I pick the loser within minutes of the programme starting. But during the opening moments of this series, I wavered. I chose two people, no not a boy and a girl, but the eventual victim and his ‘orange’ partner. "Is it an Orange?" response, "Mmmm, I’m not sure". You will have to excuse the paraphrasing, as that’s sort of what I thought that they said when they were together. The most important thing is that those of you who watched the opening episode, will know the two chaps that I mean. Mind you, I selected these two, long before their trip to the market.

My money is on the inventor or the oriental lass. She seems very switched on, he also. He comes across as a bit of an oxymoron in many ways, an inventor who talks sense. ‘Soup Man’ must also be a favourite along with someone who I think is called Gavin. Those of you who follow the Blog know that I am a Briggs Meyer ENTP and not particularly good with names. That’s why I like ‘Sir Alan’, and ‘Lord Sugar’, they are easy to remember and sort of roll off the tongue. I clearly remember ‘Amstrad’ as it stands for ‘Alan Michael Sugar Trading’, and that is something that I can remember and associate with the name.

But for the world of me I simply cannot recall the name of the first episode loser from last night. I know that he used to be an accountant, and I know that he sort of maintained my 100% record, Fred, Frank and Fickle come to mind, but I’m confident that it’s none of those. I also know that he is short as I think that he told us so during the programme, but I am not sure if everyone else heard that passing comment. Now then Lord Sugar, give us a call, I ‘Double Dog Dare You’. And anyone from South Wales knows that you got to do a double dog dare. Can you imagine it; Lord Sugar, the lady on the left, the chap on the right (both of whom come across as being lovely by the way) and me! The problem being of course, after watching every episode and every series, I still don’t know their names. Now ‘Margaret’ that rings a bell, but I don’t think the football club owner is called Margaret, and I don’t think that she bakes either. Tee he hee, me sat in the anti-room; “Lord Sugar will see you now”, “I said, (pausing for emphasis and increasing the volume) Lord Sugar will SEE YOU NOW”. Yeah, as if.

Two Blogs

I'm working on two Blogs at the moment. This one on line, and the Second in WORD. I have mentioned previously the importance of oral history being placed in written form so that our descendants know a bit more about us and what we were up to and why.

The same position applies to the Internet. What we write on an electronic Blog is as vulnerable as oral history. The demise of a provider or its server and what was written is lost. It's continuity is no different than oral history in that the stories rely upon the memory of others and their desire or willingness to communicate those stories. I have therefore copied and pasted the whole of this Blog from 2008 until April 2011 into a WORD document.

The 300 pages have been given a title page, and an introduction. I have begun the next phase whereby I try and explain why I wrote what I did. This is being achieved by writing a link between entries or to explain a group of entries. The links are in a different font than the original Blog so it is clear what has been added. The original photographs have also been embedded into WORD. All in all it's an attempt to contextualise the writing and help our descendants to understand what it was all about.

The finished work is being bound in a leather dissertation binder. The idea being that it sits alongside my ongoing Family History work when that is complete. Two books that will inform others about us.

Roll of Honour

Is the compilation of a Roll of Honour in the Public Domain with ready access getting any closer? The Secretary to the President of Ghana has copied me in on a letter to the Hon. Minister, Ministry of Defence, Accra asking the Minister to action providing details or access to a Roll of Honour for those Ghanaians that have perished during United Nations Peacekeeping activities.

I shall update the Blog with names and dates as soon as they become available. Meanwhile, a big thank you to the secretary to the President for giving the matter serious consideration and tasking others to assist in what I consider to be an essential element of the civilizing process from Colonialism to Statehood.

Japan

Greetings to the surfer from Shinjuku in Japan that recently visited the Blog. I hope that you and your countrymen are slowly overcoming the dreadful natural disaster that affected your country.

Season 7

I know that I am supposed to be writing about Isandlwana and its aftermath, but I have been a tad busy of late with that thing that doesn’t get mentioned here. Don’t worry, there’s no Super-Injunction in place on me, and I’m not a rich personality, although my personality may sometimes be a bit rich. No, it’s more of a case that while things could be resolved I see no reason to dig a ditch. Dialogue and negotiation reduces tensions and deescalates the rhetoric from both sides. Talking is good and can solve many problems. I suppose that sometimes it also causes a few problems as well. People have to be talking from the same storyboard, and repetition has to be accurate. The African tradition of oral history relies upon the accurately recalling of the stories and trying to ensure that events are not lost in time.

We were chatting about family history last night, and some of the things that we told one of our daughters she had never heard. Some of course, for various reasons, simply cannot be published, but quite a few of the stories brought about a few laughs. So maybe it’s (life) not that bad after all. I thought that this would be a good time to post a trio of family stories and try to link them in some way to create a bit of interest. So here goes, I was thinking along the lines of a few common denominators; wheels, reduced numbers, and my bro.

Four wheels

The 2011 grass cutting is Season 7 for my petrol driven lawnmower. It’s a lovely thing that I found in the skip when I was visiting my brothers quite a few years back. I asked if I could have the lawnmower and although the answer was ‘yes’, there was at the time two significant downsides. (1) It wasn’t working, and (2) my lovely new Volvo with its light coloured leather upholstery was stuffed full of Daughters University stuff from England being brought back home to Wales by yours truly. So we tipped out any residue oil and petrol, covered the backseat leather with blankets and somehow managed to manoeuvre the lawnmower into the S40. About a week later and only £20 lighter, the missing 4th wheel was welded back onto the axle, and a new fan belt meant that the lawnmower worked. Here we are in Season 7 and as the lawnmower fires up first time at the start of each Season, I am extremely grateful to my bro. It’s not that I couldn’t afford to go out and buy my own, no it’s not that at all. The gratitude is all about salvaging someone else’s junk, and making good use of it for many years to come. Indeed, there’s a fair chance that the lawnmower may get a spray job this winter ready for next Season. Maybe red with sharks teeth or some WWII air art.

Three wheels

The second of my trio of family blasts from the past is about my father driving a road roller. These lumbering beasts of a machine have a solid turning rolling wheel at the front and two large fixed wheels either side of the main body towards the rear. Three wheels and no rubber, the driver sits high up in an almost open cab and if they are lucky have a sprung seat. Yes folks we are talking ‘big’ road rollers here, and not the diminutive ones often seen these days. Now don’t ask me what my brother was doing in the cab with dad, it doesn’t make any sense as the cabs only have a single seat. But nevertheless bro was with dad in Swansea trundling down a very long hill. Except that the trundling became a sort of freefall as the brakes on the road roller failed. Now I’m reasonably intelligent and understand physics and the like, but what I cannot explain, is what possessed my father and brother to determine in an instant that bro should jump? It doesn’t make any sense at all.

Massive road roller with massive front wheel is sort of going to demolish anything that it hits. I suppose the only vehicle that would create a similar impact would be a Centurion tank. Bro jumped and broke a bone or two and was lucky not to be crushed by one of the rear wheels. “And the road roller?” you ask, well come on folks do I really have to explain? Gravity ensured that it rolled onwards to the bottom of the hill, and its mass meant that it demolished a wall. For my part I am grateful that bro or dad did not come to an early demise.

Two wheels

Family stories should be about our oral history becoming embedded into written form so that future generations know a bit more about their ancestors. I giggle when I recall the lawnmower and road roller stories as they say a bit about fortune and misfortune and interpretation of events at that moment in time.

Who would have thought that the lawnmower in the skip would have been repaired so cheaply and go on to give excellent service for many years to come. And a bit like putting the thing in the skip, why on earth did bro jump?

I suppose on both accounts, decisions were made at each moment in time based on the information and assessment of that information by those that were in a position to make a decision.

We had a family member who died in a bike crash, and I remember as a young man, I wanted to have a motorbike. Well nothing strange there then, because girls and motorbikes were the order of the day. Given that I wasn’t able to get and keep the one, trying to get the other seemed at the time to be a good idea. When selecting a two wheeled story linked to my bro, I could of course have written about my butchers bike from my Saturday job, or bro standing the terms so that I could buy a Carlton 5 speed racing bike while I paid him back from my Saturday job, of which I am also extremely grateful.

But the thing is I found a guarantor for that motorbike purchase and I am extremely grateful that bro changed their mind and stopped the bike idea stone dead. Because if he hadn’t: then it might have been me travelling downhill without brakes and ending up in a skip.

Statistics

Since I began writing the Blog back in 2008, readers from a total of 39 countries have read the material. The Blog Reader leader board by Country is taken up by the United Kingdom, the United States of America, Ghana, Brazil, and Canada. Australia, Germany, the Netherlands, India, and Italy also appear in the top ten countries.

Visitors from 204 cities in these 39 countries have read the Blog.

The most number of visitors live in the cities of London (England), Birmingham (England), Cardiff (Wales), Accra (Ghana), and Chicago (USA). Readers from overseas are led by those from Accra and Chicago, but there is also a strong readership from Pelotas (Brazil).

Readers also come from all sub parts of the Continent of Africa i.e. Northern, Western, Southern, and Middle Africa. But for natural reasons the predominant readership of this Blog on the African continent is from Western Africa, and in particular, Ghana.

Having a Picnic

Ian Knight is a superb author and I urge you to pick up one or more of his books. With this particular read, I’m at that stage of the story where the British have invaded Zululand for no good reason other than their desire for expanded colonialism and the theft of land and resources in Africa. Picking a fight with the innocent is one thing, but the British invasion has already resulted in the murder of many Zulu’s while part of Chelmsford’s army is still camped under the shadow of Isandlwana. Lord Chelmsford has split his force and has gone on what appears to be his usual forage into the African wilderness. On this occasion he dines for breakfast while his soldiers are busy killing Africans. The reader is informed that the General’s French Cook is back at Isandlwana, and that the General and his staff were reduced to eating what they carried, and dining with the utensils and facilities that could be placed inside their sacks.

This all in all is not too bad a thing, as some of his soldiers did not have breakfast that day, and had not had supper or dinner the previous day. Indeed, those who were fortunate to have left Isandlwana on this particular foray into the wilderness had been reduced to biscuits and the sharing of a 1lb tin of salmon the previous day. Nevertheless, although hungry they would escape the butchery that occurred back at the camp. In contrast to the tea, biscuits and tinned salmon carried by the British, the Zulu army had marched on a few head of beef and a few slaughtered goats. We are told that this was not sufficient to feed the African Zulu army, and the cattle supplied by the Zulu King was supplemented with “raw meat, pumpkins, roasted mealies gourds full of curdled milk” carried by younger members of the family, (Ian Knight, 2010 p.266) and the livestock and the grain pits that the Zulu army was able to raid along the way. The modern reader can well imagine the logistical difficulties facing the Zulu nation in defending their land, culture, and well being against the British aggression. The English held the upper hand in logistical preparation, modern armaments, the creation of a monetary economy in which to buy wagons and to hire skilled drivers, money to lease solid structures in which to house soldiers, ammunition, and provisions. The British did not have crops to worry about or cattle to tend. Plus of course, the unnecessary and brutal invasion was on a date and time of their choosing. The invasion was deliberately timed to coincide with crop difficulties facing the Zulu nation. The existence of a Violence Monopoly fuelled Colonialism, which was a terrible thing, and I am certainly glad that it was not executed in my name.

I suspect that Lord Chelmsford was not dining on pumpkin, roasted mealies, or tinned salmon when he settled down on that grassy knoll to indulge in a spot of breakfast while the murderous affair continued to the fore. Indeed, although Chelmsford was focused to events to the front, he was not the only person now engaged in brutal activity, and although he did not fully comprehend the situation at that time, the butchery was actually going on all around him. Nevertheless, he saw no sound reason to break from his breakfast, and we can only speculate as to what delights he enjoyed on that particular African morning.

Sense of Duty

Yes of course I am thrilled with the listing in ‘Burkes Peerage and Gentry’. Especially as I often portray myself as ‘a lad from the gasworks’. I am without any doubt; a Crindau Boy through and through. But the truth of the matter, is that members of our family have often been referred to ‘as having a posh accent’, and one that does not correlate to our South Wales origins. I was born in Swansea and our arm of the ‘Bennett’ Clan moved to Newport Monmouthshire (Gwent) as the motorway and road network improved in the 1960’s. Not because the road improvements facilitated migration, but because my father worked driving a road roller. As the road windfall ceased, Sydney Bennett became a guard with British Railways. Again, geography and circumstance played its part, as BR had a depot in Newport Monmouthshire.

Migration for work in South Wales was not only a 20th Century thing. My research into our family history shows ‘shipsworths’ migrating from Swansea towards Newport Monmouthshire and Risca as part of the property construction boom. Although one unfortunate soul, at a very young age, found himself down the coal mines when that part of the family put down roots around Risca. There probably wasn’t enough carpentry work to go around, and the handing down of skills to a younger generation of family members was starting to cease. Education and the coin became the order of the day.

The provision of education is quite interesting. When you look at the early Census records, they show that our particular arm of the Bennett’s had sufficient money to provide education for a child rather than sending them out to seek work. To put that into context we are talking about the turn of the Century. So maybe an entry in ‘Burkes Peerage and Gentry’ is not that farfetched after all. The building industry was thriving and Granddad Bennett as a Master Mason and Head of the Clan had built up a significant size building firm.

Ernest Llewellyn Bennett enjoyed the trappings that his success brought. I know that in 1917 our family had a motor vehicle. Not many people had a car in those days, and the occupants of passing vehicles in South Wales would certainly have waved to one another. It maybe a family myth, but my father often mentioned that he had a pet monkey as a child. I also know that he displayed a sense of duty to ‘King and Country’ and as the storm clouds of war gathered, my father enlisted in the Army. Sydney Bennett was present in France during The Phoney War. That period from 1939 that had little action while a standoff existed on that front. Sydney was struck down with Scarlet Fever and after 18 months of illness and convalescence he was medically discharged from the Army. However his sense of duty was intense, and to serve his King and country, Sydney enrolled as a firefighter for the rest of the Second World War.

To be quite honest, Sydney Allen Douglas Bennett deserves a place in ‘Burke’s Peerage and Gentry’ far more than I do. But I am nevertheless extremely grateful, and I also know that he and others in our family would be very proud indeed.

Burke's Peerage and Gentry

If anyone reading this Blog is signed up to Burke's Peerage and Gentry, then I would love to see a copy of the full text assigned to my name, so that I can check it over and let them know if any of the details are wrong. You can contact me via rba@hotmail.co.uk

:-)

Happy Days

Today as also been a 'Happy Day', the unseasonal hot weather is a delight. I have managed to cut the grass, weed the paths, oil the garden furniture, do some DIY in the shade, and pop off into town to stroll the length of the promenade before reading a few more chapters of Zulu Rising. This time it was in Costa and not Cafe Nero, because of course I am now back in Aberystwyth.

It was also 'Happy Days' when I happened to stumble across my entry in Burke's Peerage and Gentry. If I could afford the fees, then I would sign up and check the accuracy of what is written under my name. Although the opening segment that appeared in a Google search seems pretty accurate to me:

ROGER BENNETT [Roger Bennett Esq, Mid and West Wales Fire and Rescue Service, Ceredigion County Command, Trefechan, Aberystwyth, Ceredigion SY23 1BE, Wales]; born Swansea; educated U of Centl Lancs; firefighter Gwent Fire Bde 1978–89, Community Fire Safety Offr ...

Happy Days indeed; sunshine, health, good coffee, a great book, and fame at last.

Zulu Rising

I have read over 200 pages of Ian Knights astonishing book. I have previously read Great Zulu Commanders, and Great Zulu Battles and truly believed that Ian Knight could not produce a combined book that would be as fresh as the first of my two reads; I was wrong. I am gripped by the storytelling, and have enjoyed a few pages each day in Cafe Nero on Duke Street, Cardiff after my physical toil on our flat. The staff are lovely and would be worthy winners of a Coffee Shop of the Year Award. It has been an enjoyable experience popping into 'Nero' each day, but of course, the hard work on the flat has meant that I have been unable to press home the reading.

Plus of course there has been a gap in the Blogging while I lived in Cardiff for the last 9 or so days. 'Happy Days' as one of the 'Nero' staff would say!

iSandlwana

The epic story of iSandlwana and Rorke's Drift is graphically described in the 2010 book 'Zulu Rising' by historian and author, Ian Knight. As proclaimed on the inside of the dust cover; "In the shadow of an imposing rocky outcrop called iSandlwana, a part-time army of African herdsmen brought to a halt (...) more than a century and a half of British Imperial expansion across southern Africa."

There was me writing about 'Boys Own' in a recent Blog Post, and on page 4 of what feels and looks like a 600 page book, Ian Knight, mentions that "uncomfortable truths are often buried uneasily beneath a veneer of Boy's Own derring-do." For me, it is also interesting to note the author referring to there being "enough contemporary parallels, in Iraq and elsewhere, to suggest that no one, least of all politicians, learns from history." These fine words are in many ways replicated through the various threads weaved through this Blog over the last few years.

Maybe the study of war and Imperial expansionism should be a pre-requisite of holding elected public office? I wonder as to how many scholars, who understand social and economic science, would push a country into conflict? Be it internal or external conflict; as the State can deploy its violence monopolies against its own people, or beyond its borders.

Quite a lot has been written and spoken about the link between Libya and the London School of Economics (LSE). I appreciate that in contemporary affairs (and for these purposes I include the Libyan Embassy murder and the Lockerbie murders, and the current situation), that the word 'Libya' has negative connotations. Without trying in any way to push the morality and wrongdoing aside, I am unable to fully sign up to 'the LSE were wrong because' argument.

I believe that the core idea behind the academic link was sound. Education increases understanding and greater understanding, must ultimately, lead towards greater tolerance. As the 'Civilizing Process' continues, it is inevitable that there will be less reliance on the use of 'Violence Monopolies' by heads of state and other power players. The reduction in the use of violence will occur for both in-house events, and for conflict between States. Education, especially that delivered by credible world class institutions, must assist that process. Therefore, even though there are sound reasons why the link should not have been established, the LSE should not beat itself up over the links that occurred.

Education may have offset the contemporary problem. We know in hindsight that it didn't, but no one knew of this outcome, when the relationship began.

Although State-formation is central to the Civilizing Process, there can be no doubt that the process is also wholly dependent on people and their actions towards and their interaction with others. Strategic and other direction may occur during war. These directions may determine the various tasks and acts that are required in order to execute the warring intention. There may also be an understanding, or a co-hesion of force, that brings large numbers of people together for a particular event or series of events. But the actual execution of the violence is down to the behaviours and interaction of individuals or small groups of people. These people may be part of a 'strategic whole', but they nevertheless operate in isolation.

Real people operating in what can best be described as surreal circumstances. African herdsmen against the might of the British Empire and its Colonial intent. Part-time warrior against semi-professional soldiers. They fight and some of them will undoubtedly die. A bit like the contemporary problem in Libya today. If you fire on your people then people get killed, if you take out a command and control centre then more people get killed. Anyone and everyone is at risk, there is no clean kill; simply death.

This aspect of war is eloquently portrayed in the opening pages of 'Zulu Rising'. The author brings us closer to the death of a warrior, and then links the battlefield with the acts undertaken by modern descendants who are coming to terms with the loss and the impact of that loss on their contemporary problems. It's strong stuff, and in a future Blog Post I shall try and relay the 'Spirit Catching' of a fallen warrior at iSandlwana, as witnessed by Ian Knight back in January 2007 and described in his 2010 book. Maybe, just maybe, I can link that description to my own experience of 'African spirits' as described in one of my older Blog posts.

Little Fishy's

I had intended to write about 'Zulu Rising' and have a few notes that I put together for that purpose this morning. However, my travels continue and this afternoon we stepped out towards Aberaeron and Lampeter. It was a lovely trip and some March Welsh culture with Cawl, Bread, and Cheese at one of my favourite old time haunts; Mark Lanes Cafe in the high street fifty or so yards from the fountain.

It was very nice of the chap that built the fountain for the folk in Lambedr Pont Steffan (Lampeter). I suppose that providing water for drinking and bathing is an important social contribution. Although it was also a tad pompous of him to emblazon his name for all and sundry to see on the side of the disproportionate stonework. Sometimes people just don't know when 'enough is enough'.

I think that applies to all of those that kept arriving at the swimming pool this morning. As well as the ticket collecting that could have stopped the stampede. I managed 41 lengths, but my 'o my it was a terrible struggle with this person or that moving across my lane, towards me, and sometimes underneath. They were all like little fishy's, and for once I came close to understanding how everyone feels like when stuck in an aquarium. It was mad, simply mad. Can you imagine it being like that every day?