How can you lose a plane?

Flight MH370 under the command of Captain Shah has been missing for almost a month.

In a world full of in flight technology and satelites covering every inch of the planet it is like a scenario from Lost. I suppose all satelites are trained on the Crimea as we speak and have less interest in their cycles over the Indian Ocean.

The lack of information has led to a myriad of press based stories all with a hint of technical possibility but never the less theory as to the alleged intentions of the to the possibility of rapid engine failure.

The black box, which is in fact orange, and all the other technology has failed to reveal the whereabouts of the airplane.

If/when the plane is found, the truth may never be fully known.

Meanwhile the media machine will constinue to spout theory after theory in the absence of fact.

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The Selfie.

From the original box brownie camera to the leaps and bounds made by Kodak developing film to the rapid advance in technology which means that every piece of technology from your phone to your food blender is capable of taking a picture.

Cameras have become digital, resolution is up to super-mega pixels so that we can take hundreds of pictures a day and send them round the world in seconds.

And now all of this advances in technology has left us with is the selfie.

The Selfie.

A photo you rake of yourself. Either by holding it at arms length and pointing it in your general direction, usually at a jaunty angle or by using a mirror in a dimly lit room to show your reflection.

Even Kim "please no publicity" Kardashian takes a selfie for more self promotion.

Even in public. Let's get friends to join in.

The Selfie is an act of class by a classy person as the fine example of womanhood, Nikki Minge.....or whatever her name is shows us here. I am impressed that Nikki shows us here an arse of planet like proportion and enjoys sharing it with the world.....or is it just a pathetic advert for her own brand of iPhone covers. Self publicity? Pan!

The selfie should of course be tasteful and artistic and not show a lack of class in any way.

Since celebrities support the selfless act of selfies shared with the world through the plethora of social media, it is only right that their devoted followers should follow their example of their beloved idols. Here, Justin Bieber shows his...errr...manly pecs and love of gaudy underwear and a worrying inability to tie his own trousers properly.

What next? ....celebrity selfies in onesies?

....damnit.....there's a website already...thank you 1D.

....and you wonder why the Chineese are raking over the world.

Help!

 

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On a dark and stormy night.

The worst storm in living memory had stopped just as Johns light blue Vauxhall Vectra pulled into the moonlit drive. The windscreen wipers shrieked against the glass letting everyone within earshot know that their services were no longer needed.

A gentle hiss came from the mud splattered engine as his brown loafers tentatively slipped into the shallow puddle by the car. "Damn!" He said to himself as he saw that the absense of illumination from the front porch security light. No power! He slammed the door with a little more force than he should have and moved slowly towards the feint image of the doorway.

His right hand fumbled through the many keys on his key chain and he found the right one on the third attempt.

He moved inside into the house and closed the door behind him. The hallway was cold and uninviting.

His breath formed small jet streams in the air in front of him as he exhaled.

He moved forward, feeling his way round the memory of what the room should be like trying to find his way to the kitchen and that cold beer he had promised himself all the way home.

His hands struck pay dirt too early as his right hand hit the open fridge door. "I guess that beer won't be as cold as I'd dreamed of." He thought to himself as he screwed off the top and threw it into the corner of the kitchen in the general direction of the bin.

He glugged back the first few swallows and his senses tingled as an unexpected aroma came to tease the hairs inside his nostrils. He moved towards the cellar door and the stairs that led down to a darkness that he didn't want to visit.

The door creaked as it opened grudgingly, revealing a pungent aroma that made him wretch. He turned his head away and covered his mouth quickly with the back of his hand and that was when he heard it.

A low whistling sound, just on the edge of his hearing.

He moved closer, taking small steps to delay his progress.

The whistling sound stopped and his heart relaxed and started to beat with what he thought was a normal rhythm.

he stood back to close the door when the noise started again, this time louder and with a harshness that made it uncomfortable to the ear.

He turned and made his way slowly inside the cellar, moving his feet slowly down onto each step in turn like a blind man feeling his way.

It took him what seemed like a lifetime to reach the bottom of the stairs but as he reached the bottom he found that the stench was almost unbearable.

The noise stopped!

He stood listening to the sound of his heart pounding in the darkness.

Then, he heard the sound of a match erupting into life as light flooded into the cellar.

Before he could turn, an icy voice chilled him to his very soul.

"Hello! I am the cheese goblin and it's time for you to pay your debts."

 

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excuse me doctor, I'm having a bit of trouble with my cock!

I knew it would happen.

Having got chicken lady to "guarantee" that the baby chicks that came out of the incubator were ladies and so would give us blue eggs....we knew it couldn't go to plan.

One past away 48 hours later and Beyonce and Eva turned out to be.....well...cockrels.

And being cockrels eventually they will turn on you. Not in a "don't touch my biatches" kind of way...just a mental....I don't care how big you are, I'm going to have a go kind of way.

Sadly I was out in a pair of shorts and flip flops, so was not in ideal cockrel fighting garb. sadly for the afore mentioned cockrel, I was carrying a large plastic laundry basket. Used defensively, this did not deter him from his attack.

as his intensity of attack grew, I reluctly had to wield my blue laundry basket in anger.

this did not deter him much either.

He was up for it big style and would not take " take that you foul feathered fiend" for an answer.

Sadly he has grown a big red comb and equally evil eyes since pictured here.

Sadly he has changed much since he used to sit on my shoulder and watch tv together. we watched Chelsea win the UEFA cup final together last year. how times have changed.

The time may finally have come for a parting of the ways.

 

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Author! Author!

My daughter was a more than happy little bunny at the publishing of her first book.

A Chinese meal and a glass of sparkly to celebrate

 

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Boys day out.

I'm going out.

I don't go out much. Happy flumping, moping or doing stuff about the house. We are going off to Stamford bridge today. By we I mean me and Roger, my best mate on the entire planet.

Off to see us beat the not so mighty spurs and go SEVEN points clear at the top of the league. not so bad for a little horse.

In recent times, we have gone to see us play a variety of teams. West brom was the last one and we needed a 96th minute dive from Ramirez to rescue a point. Birmingham, West Ham, Coventry, Everton, QPR, Derby, ....used to take in the occasional champions league game with Arsenal in the quarter finals, now there was a game seen from the Matthew Harding stand.

Never seen us play spurs though

Do you remember where you were when Kennedy was shot?....probably before your time....I'll bet Jackie Onasis gets fed up of being asked that one.....or where you were when you heard that Elvis had died.....and all the hugging and memories that ensued.

Do you remember where you were when this happened?

The champions league victory that NOBODY had predicted especially since we went out at the last 16 when we were 3-1 down to Napoli and Cashley cleared one off the line or we were 2-0 down to Barca at the Nou Camp.......Camp Nou....pick a name and J.T. Fancied watching the game from the changing room.

I was with Roger. Beer in hand, nervously sitting on the edge of the sofa, slumped almost horizontally when Munich took the lead, somewhere on the ceiling when Drogba arrowhead in that header and standing up, utmost unable to look when the penaltys were, or weren't going in.

Like MasterCard.........best mates....priceless.

 

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Past your sell by date!

Not a thing that we like to think of but it hits us all at some stage in life.

Rather than being a piece of supermarket meat which has a sell by date, a use by date or a best before date we are all like pieces of fruit and veg, you look at us every day in the fridge and we look shiny and perfect but you never notice the day when the shine is gone and things start to deteriorate until that little piece of grey mould just gets us.

You look at that punnet of strawberrys, and wonder what things must be like....a bunch of little red pipped and pithy voices trapped in a cellophane wrapper all hoping that they are not going to be the first to go. Sitting in fear as the fridge door is closed and the light goes off. Listening to frightened whispers in the dark and a calm voice of reassurance coming from somewhere at the side from a carton with a best before that has months to run. Trying to keep the spirits up of the frightened and lonely piece of fruit by your side in the cold and dark, unable to reach out and give reassurance.

Then in the long dark night, there is the winter of silence and you realise that the fruit next to you is no longer making a noise. Your whispers are not yielding a response and you fear the worst until you hear the noise of the footsteps and the blinding light dazzles you and when your eyes clear you focus on the mouldy grey spores that are close to you, not touching but so close that you are terrified to move.

We all fear being that piece of fruit. The one that goes mouldy before the others. Nobody could predict it, especially since they looked ok yesterday.

With kidney stones last year and a hernia this year, the ability to tie a rear fastening hospital gown is no longer a mystery. (Why lord are hospital gowns so difficult to tie up? Why are things not simple and at the front....where most normal approaches to vital organs need to come from. Should you need an operation which needs a southern lay approach from the rear then put the damned thing on backwards!) I think that hospital gowns are just another way of reminding us of survival of the fittest. A thousand years ago when the hospital gown was invented it was natures way of saying that if you could not manage to tie it up with loops behind you, that you probably did not deserve to live and so would be sent out into the wilderness in all your bare arsed glory to be eaten by wild bears.

Four weeks post surgery I am still amazed as to what the doctors have done. Two little holes in the left of my stomach to fix a problem in my belly button.

I will admit, that when my "isn't it just because I am a middle aged fat boy" belly button turned to an outy, I did spend a quiet moment on my own pampering my rediscovered inny with some moisturising cream and a cotton bud. The return of a long lost friend.

Still not a hundred percent but I will start a bit of light exercise and see how we go from there.

Which reminds me, I must go down to the fridge and get some fruit!

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Other must have useless items number 172.

When cooking, what is the use or need for the spoon holder? You stir something in the pan on the cooker. When you finish stirring it needs to go somewhere as depending on the material, you cannot leave it in the pan or perched perilously on top of the pan as juices may run down onto the cooking surface.

Then someone had the idea of the spoon holder. That's right, a ceramic item that sits near the cooker for the soul purpose of having a spoon placed onto of it in times of cooking so that the spoon does not make contact with the nasty dirty work surface.

I can just imagine the joy of that brainstorming meeting in the world of things that real humans must have.

"Oh Marjorie, you have just come up with the thing that every woman needs in the kitchen." After several pats on the back and well manicured hands high filing around the kitchen work top....I would have to assume that all of the participants were women as if there had been a bloke in the room...things may have gone differently.

"So what do you do with it when you are not using it then" says the voice of reason from the back.

"Why Nigel, it sits there ready at the side of the cooker waiting to be used."

.......loads of contented beaming and roars of approval ..........

"You mean sitting by the cooker getting covered in everyday germs, the same everyday germs that are covering the work surface any way?"

"Well you would need to wipe it down before you use it" ........

............"you go girl" ............... more high fiveing........

"So in order to stop germs getting into your food you have an extra piece of ceramics sitting on the work surface that needs to be cleaned as well as the work surface before you actually use it?"

.........whispers...........

"And also if it's just sitting there next to the cooker, is it not covering valuable work surface space in an already crowded kitchen?" ............more whispers......

"Well Nigel, I suppose that you could keep it in a nearby drawer or cupboard so that it was ready for use."

.....a squeal and more murmurs of approval......

"So does that not mean that it takes up even more valuable space in an already crowded cupboard?"

.......a few whispers and then silence........

"And what happens if you are using more than one spoon as I believe that you frequently have more than one pan on the go at the cooker at any one time of....would there not be cross contamination or mixing of flavours in the spoon holder?"

.......uncomfortable silence.......

......"you could have a second spoon holder!""..............

"Thus taking up twice as much surface space or cupboard space"

..........deathly silence ................

"And would these spoon holders also not need to be cleaned and washed and sterilised after any cooking ready for the next meal thus making extra work in the kitchen?"

"......................silences surrounding a plethora of slumped shoulders ...........

"If you really wanted something to use to keep your spoon germ free....could you not just use a side plate?"

..............silence.............

.................more silence...........

"Nigel! I believe that the rubbish needs to be taken outside to recycling, can you sort it out please why we vote. There's a good chap."

............and so the spoon holder came into being.

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