Wow!! So much help from so many nice people! Now I’ve got to get a small widget thingy and go geupping and cacheing stuff even if I look stupid doing it. ‘Excuse me, Madam, but I have reason to believe you have a small cache in your tights’. ‘Youwot!!!’ ‘My small thingy says so.’ ‘When I’ve finished with you, you pervert, you won’t have a thingy, small or not. And looking at you, probably small verging on infinitesimal.’ I can hear Herself snickering in the background.

Thank you to so many of you. LordH - I can’t believe you’re old enough to remember when there were MAINFRAMES in their own buildings with many acolytes in white coats who didn’t know what the Hell was wrong with it either. And little holes in cards and stuff. But you know whereof you speak.

Lois (as in Lois Lane / Superman) I’m confused. Other comment suggests you are a male person. Please see separate mail for expression of strong feelings and wish to meet in a haven for strong liquors. And the loan of a widget. Please don’t feel sad. Someone has to live in Ringwood. And, no, you did not treat my blog as a rubbish room. You are ever welcome.

Then there is the lovely Jane with a clear-sighted view of teknolodgy. Oh, Jane, I can feel strong emotion coming on because of your money and careless disregard for it. E mail me for my bank a/c details. You would make me orgasmically happy (sit down at the back, there) if you took me on as a Project to be funded and Herself will never know. Our secret will be safe with me. The money is better off in my bank than in the excrutiatingly foul hands of the present Gov’t which it appears sundry TOTAL MORONS will wish upon us next week yet again.

By the way - if any of you vote for this fxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx labour lot PLEASE don’t speak to me. Ever again. For any reason whatsoever. My Country has been half ruined already and I can’t bear the thought that sundry idiots will let blair / brown go on to wreck the other half.

And next the very able Carol. Yes, a veritable Princess amongst women. You express yourself as a ‘girl’. Joy. You go g - thingummy stuff ’sometimes’ which means you are a winsome creature who may - or then again, may not. Yes! And, as a modern multi-tasking wholly rounded (in an intellectual way) reperesentative of modern woman-hood you can read a map, use a computer and phone people in synchronicity. Yeah!! Let us lust together by geo-whatsiting at the SAME TIME on the SAME DAY within 100 miles of each other. Can life hold more bliss than this, I ask? E mail me at your convenience or even at home.

And then there’s the delightful Sarah. Her soul sees their first gps thingy as yellow. Not just a piece of teknolodgy but someting with a colourful soul. She can’t bear to part with it. I imagine her cleaving it to her heaving breast (singular - pay attention). And such a wise admonition. ‘Make sure you like it before you spend your money’. If only she’d told me that before I - - -.

Which brings me to brisk Paul.There’s no point in being a Dad if one can’t speak forcefully to the occasional child. I will treat Henry as you suggest. And thank you for quieting my engineering mind. Yup. gpsr does it for me. I can rest peacefully, chum.

Well, if you put up with this to the end I leave you with TWO thoughts. Julianna - talk to me!! Please! And offering gentleness to others calms the stress you may feel yourself. Do it, for me, tomorrow. Love to you all and so much thanks - Dad

This is a techno-blog, I’m afraid! But girls please read on. There’s something in it for you!

Firstly many thanks for prompt / enthusiastic replies to cry for help over purposeful exercise. Thanks for explaining geocache. I was roughly right but totally wrong in reality! As an (old) engineer (one can never be an ‘ex-engineer’) that about sums up much of my experience in engineering. I was never a Civil Engineer (tho’ normally a polite one) because if you crock it, the bridge falls down, with something very big and very expensive on it and people come looking for you. If it had people on it, off you go to Peru with a quite different name and no pension. As a Mechanical Engineer, quite often the engine never ran again and sometimes something went ‘thump’ and stopped. Which is oddly satisfying providing one appears remorseful.

Anyway, Herself was oddly excited by this geo-thingy idea and endorsed it in a suspiciously hearty way. ‘Just the thing’ ‘You’ll really enjoy that’ ‘ Just like the good old days in Scouts, Armed Forces, w.h.y.’ ‘You can go off and play to your heart’s content whilst pleasing old-friend GP and becoming slimmer-lined than currently - wear old trousis in wardrobe again’. Actually if I were to take it up I’d buy a second-hand kilt. It’s the only thing to wear when hiking about. So why do women wear trousis? There are some things I’ll never understand. Anyway, why am I suspicious? Much talk of car - journeys with no deadline - admire soothing countryside - stay cosy little pubs - no need to hurry back. The truth of the matter which any woman will have realised 5 lines up is that now I am ’semi-retired’ (so much more elegant than saying ‘out of work’) I’m a bxxxxy nuisance and never go away on business trips thus giving Herself a breather and some quality time / space of her own. Hmm. I also get the feeling that despite my proficiency with maps (I used to teach this stuff in the Services) and her problem with them - (driving SOUTH is lethal and I have to memorise the route half-day ahead to be able to ignore ‘take the next left’ which, when looking at a North-up map whilst going South, means ‘right’) she rather hopes I’ll lose myself and have to phone home for help. Sheer pride and lack of a paid up mobile will prevent this of course.

Speaking of mobiles, I have one solely to call for help if the car stops against my wishes. I never use it otherwise and have no idea what the number is. Whilst I can make my computer sit up and dance, I can’t use my current phone. I need to find out how much credit it’s got left on it but despite (voluminous) instruction manual on kitchen table (big manual always a v.bad sign), head in hands, restorative glass available, I can’t make the thing tell me the answer. Herself who has one she uses to phone sister and others says I have to phone a number. But that’s not what the manual says. Menu; scroll down to item 3; press enter; scroll down to item 8 ‘credit’. That’s all it says. She claims I’m obstinate. I claim that any sensible engineer would link phone-twiddling to sim card ID and get auto-connect. But thinking that and swearing doesn’t bring about this miracle.

Did you notice (those of you old enough) that it took 10 YEARS for the on / off button on a PC to move fromthe BACK, where right-thinking engineers said it should be next to power-input cable, to the FRONT which is where the user sat. So for 10 years we were all leaning over the desk fiddling about amongst sprouting wires to press to bxxxxy switch. BEFORE you all sneer - I’m off to the CarPhone Warehouse (next to PC World) 5 mins from here. They sold me the thing, they can tell me if it needs money in the box. We might be in lovely Dorset but not cut-off from civilisation. Oh no. On second thoughts a sad picture of my life if eyeing new kit in PC World is a high point in my week, which it is. Sigh.

Which naturaly brings us to something known as a gps. Not a GPS. So obviously something small. Using the same intuitive logic as I did for geochache (see above for result of that one) I deduce this is a Global Positioning - - er?- - System? But a gps is a piece of kit and a piece of kit is, by definition, not a system merely part of one. So how do I find and buy a gb-part of a-s? Simple. Enquire on the internet. So I did. As happens so often with this type of quest I am now equally confused but to a much higher degreee than previously.

Info: There are ‘n’ varieties of gps thingy. They range in price (always one way of figuring something out. Buy the one with everything on it even if you don’t want to land on Mercury for an away-day) from £too much to ‘how on earth - - ?’ Hmm. Visit another site. This one has ‘Customer Reviews’ - that’s more like it. One poor deluded soul says ‘It’s quite intuitive and I mastered (?) most (note, merely ‘most’) functions in a couple of hours’. Aaargh!! Flashing red lights. Intuitive equals ‘ Look - Press - Bingo!’ Two hours equals BIG manual (see above re big manual warning and can’t find out how much credit I’ve got on the phone). Cripes! Another punter says, airily, ‘Having used the basic model for two years I bought Model X. It was difficult to use and at times the altimeter said I was below sea-level - -’ Aargh! He’d (must be he - any woman would have had more sense than to buy something like that. Unless he upset her and she gave it to him for Christmas thinking ‘He’ll be 5 fathoms down off the Goodwin Sands before he realises it and I can get on with my life and keep the CD’s) been using one for two years and this one was DIFFICULT?

Then I learned that I needed a PC. Hmm. I thought the little lower-case gps widget simply told me I was at X. No, I have to hump a PC about as well. Then there’s maps. Yes, well, I know about maps but some of these annoying and very expensive doodads have maps, or more maps, or no maps. One tells me what my heart-rate is. Another tells me how many steps I have taken (serious ones, believe me) What has that to do with whether I’m about to fall off a cliff in the pitch dark? Then there are ‘way points’. Now come on, guys. When I was in the RAF, because I wore glasses, whilst I was taught to fly a plane I couldn’t have any wings (Yup. I can do it. If it was built before 1955 otherwise they’ve changed all the knobs) so I was also taught how to navigate one. Planes need way-points. On the ground you need road junctions, paths, compass bearings an’ stuff. Oh, and big boots and a kilt if male. And a rucksack with life-saving kit. And a torch. And waterproof matches. DON’T SNICKER at the back there. The New Forest where I see certain cache-orientated people operate is NOT a safe environment. It is also, in many places, soggy. My waterproof matches are tepid tea whilst your pathetic, trousis-wearing, where’s-the-pub approach merely gets you in front of a roaring log fire with a sustaining glass of stuff and a big plate of organic lunch. But where’s the fun in that?

SO, what the hxxl should I buy? And why do I need a PC? What was wrong with a compass and a map?

HELP!!! Meanwhile I bet every woman reading this (what an arrogant assumption. I should have said ‘Should any woman waste her time reading this) smiles gently at the follies of man-hood and quietly puts a nourishing casserole in the oven and cracks open a bottle of nourishing red wine. You just know it does you good. So does the wine.

Enuff, Dad. Herself has a mate visiting from Australia. She went out as a £10 Pom (If you don’t remember that ask in secret and I’ll explain) and they both lived at the YMCA (no jokes at the back, right?). I hope they have a wonderful reunion today.

Gosh. Technology should be made for us. We are not made for technology. And Julianna - if you haven’t read this blog to the end - you have too much work to do. Send me a message. please!! And chin up, sweetheart.
Dad

Thanks, folks - and DO try The Tincture.

But what on earth is ‘geocaching’? Please? Pretty please?

Geo as in something to do with the world / earth / locality / wozzit. Cache is a box full of stuff either real or in cyberworld.

How will having a cache of earth help me to exercise after I’ve filled it and put it away in a corner?

Sobs pitifully. Brightens up - The Tincture cures sobbing, too.

Cheers - ancient and out-of-date Dad

Not Dorset weather today. It’s mizzling and ‘orrible. Eva Cassidy on my computer. A refund of £54 from my gas / electric supplier though - doesn’t get much better than that. Saw the Doc this am and as predicted we had an animated discussion about F 1 racing and spent a moment or two on my state of health. So I can’t be too close to falling off the twig but I MUST TAKE MORE EXERCISE.

I am a Project person. Something with a begining, a middle and an end. The reason I have had no lawn in my gardens for the last 20 years is because mowing the bxxxxy thing twice a week is boring and horrible and never ending. NOT a Project, just a chore. Well exercise for the sake of exercising is the same. As I drive about I see people of all three genders huffing and puffing in unattractive clothing and horrid squidgy footwear to get nowhere except home again. And the same tomorrow? I see on the TV that people pay VERY SERIOUS MONEY to go to a warehouse filled with machinery and mindlessly push, pull, run - whatever - often watching television because the whole process is mind-numbingly stupid.

So to exercise I have to have a reason to use my musculature. Pull the rope to haul up a sail; walk along the street to visit the bank - w.h.y. Not sure how I’m going to tackle this, but my long-standing friend and Doctor, who understands me only too well, must be obeyed. Buy another boat, I hear you cry. Well, yes, that would be nice. But one definition of a boat is a hole in the water into which you throw money. Buy a fishing boat and EARN money? (Poole is a fishing port as well as a commercial and private one and has its own harbour for registered fishing boats - you should visit. Warn me first.) But I’d have fish scales on my wooly and my hands would get all red and raw. Got any good ideas?

Meanwhile have been up to the Village to the Bank (that cheque), Boots (scrip from Doc), flower shop (thanks to daughter for help in recent emergency), take watch in for new battery (would you like the bracelet cleaned? No, just make the dead watch twirl round again, please, thank you), paper / sweetie shop (just to say hello and buy bag of special clove sweets), grog shop for further supplies given that Doc says alcohol intake good for heart problem and being a BIG CHAP I can intake more than 21 units / week. Top limit unspecified. I did say he was an old friend. Bought makings for Father’s Tincture (his term) which is equal shots of brandy and port mixed. Experience tells me that this is PERFECT for any kind of tummy trouble; helps any kind of mental distress; should be avoided before signing anything involving the payment of money; leads to deep and satisfying afternoon kip. Urp. More than two and you will assume an horizontal position on whatever passes for the floor when you finish it. Urp major.

Until I came to write about the sheer cliff-hanging excitement of going to the Village I truly hadn’t thought how much I gain from going there. Social interaction, commercial interaction, civilty and helpfulness. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. We should all vote for that.

What lies before me? Writing a savage letter to a person whose title is - wait for it - ‘Antisocial Behaviour Co-Ordinator’ at the Council. Well, I hesitate to consider what limited grasp of the English language resounds in the Council but to me that means that he actually organises - and co-ordinates - antisocial behaviour. And I am paying for him to do that. Hmm.

Because the level of beastliness in the Village is much lower than the level of beastliness elsewhere he says nothing will be done - until our level of beastliness equals or exceeds the level elsewhere. You couldn’t make it up. I intend to offer him intellectual pain. Contributions in a plain brown envelope please.

Oh, the sun is out. The Poole micro-climate has scored again. Lunch beckons. Hey, friends, giving an idiot a nagging toothache by letter means that you are standing up for us all. It may not work first time but it surely causes pain. And that’s a start to recovering our world. Love - Dad

What - all these Dad-blogs in one day? Well, it’s your fault because you’ve inspired me.

Firstly, crushed, I learn that LordH and I met - ‘years to go’ (is that a takeaway relationship?) I’m glad, and can only hope that you have a kind memory of me, LH. May we meet up again before too long? As one totters towards the end of a life filled with insensate government interference one harks back to those with whom one was friendly in the free and untrammelled days of one’s youth. To my absolute delight a wonderful lady with whom I enjoyed a passionate teenage dalliance is coming down to visit us soon and bringing another lady friend of those days. Bliss! Herself is keen to see what took my fancy before I took her fancy, wozzit.

Actually, despite the obnoxious disguise he assumes, I think that LordH and I are twin souls. And, yes, I treat everyone on their merits. The trouble is that the well-meaning chap is often a bit adrift in the factual department. NO, white people did NOT oppress blacks and were NOT responsible for the slave trade. The ’slavers’ were blacks and Arabs who had been capturing and trading black slaves for ages within the African continent. They then created a new market with white traders to whom they sold the black slaves they had acquired. History is history but let’s know ALL of it, not just a biased view. Oh, and it was us Brits that put an end to the (overseas) slave trade. It still continues in Africa today. But we all turn a blind eye.

Which leads on to Africa generally. What is all this tommyrot about British ‘oppression’ in Africa? We brought law, discipline, schools, hospitals and honesty. So called ‘colonies’ were downright lucky when we ran the place by comparision with the debauched scandals of today’s African states. Slaughter a few thousand members of a different tribe, why not. We would have sent Saunders of the River (read the books) to stop that dead. Build another palace; bank another n million of overseas aid in my Swiss account; beggar the black peasants; buy my 10 wives brand new big cars whilst the peasants’ babies die of starvation and AIDS. And people think that is better than our defence of, care for and development of the people for whom we were responsible? READ THE HISTORY, DAMNIT!!!

It’s bed time. But read the history and don’t believe the totally perverted nonsense pedalled by people with a subversive axe to grind. We did a great job when we had an Empire and the people for whom we cared were very fortunate. We have nothing for which to apologise and they have much for which to be thankful - when we ran the place.

Night falls and life stills. Time to rest and reflect on the fortune of the day, the small kindnesses we’ve done to others and the kindnesses done to us. Life is as good as we want to see it. Sleep well - Dad

You know when you phone some lot the first thing you hear is a recorded message advising you that this call is being recorded for training and quality assurance purposes? Well obviously they record all of them.

I’ve been having some fun with a company that made a nuisance of itself to me on the phone. I teach people about this stuff and have literally written the book about it so it irritates me when they haven’t read the book. So I asked to speak to the manager and we got on fine - I believe in laughing with people even though there may be a problem. And I asked for a copy of the recording.

Today a nice person phoned to say that their QA dept. wouldn’t allow the recording to be copied for me.

So I asked for another Manager because I’m entitled to a copy. Gasp. Hiccup. I helpfully suggested that they phoned their Solicitor and got details of the Data Protection Act. BECAUSE, friends, I am entitled by law to ask for and receive a copy of any records that they have. Which includes the afore-mentioned copy.

Not a lot of people know that so you might like to keep it up your sleeve until you’re feeling irritated or mischievous.

Give someone a worrying day! Heh, heh

Yours, (fairly) evil Dad. (The blog strikes back!!)

Delighted to hear from LordH in response to previous blog that he doesn’t agree with ANYTHING I said! So I must be doing something right! Actually methinks he protesteth a bit too much because I bet a pound to a penny that he agrees with me that people with differing views are fully entitled to hold them. So lose 10 points for over-generalisation, LordH!!

Ah, the cut and thrust of debate. The trouble is that there is too little of it nowadays. Why should people be ’shamed’ into keeping quiet about their feelings? Talk never killed anyone but it surely makes those with a brain (please would the other three who are not of our blog-ring put their hands up at the back there?) think a bit. Having a facet of life presented in a way one had never considered is a great benefit.

That’s the trouble with all this PC nonsense. It leads directly to no sense hence no thinking. If someone is proud of Britain, (sorry, some lousy government put in power by a miserably small 20-odd [very odd] percent of the National electorate has destroyed Britain and replaced it with sundry regions) then some do-gooder cries ‘xenophobia’ and tries to put that person down. Manipulation and distortion is no way in which to respond to open honesty. Yet it happens all the time. And we let it.

I imagine that LordH is quite a good bloke and would be good to talk to. But if he looked at me and thought ‘I don’t like blokes with a moustache’ why should he be forced to talk to me? Because I have a ‘right’ to inflict my moustache on anyone? Worse still - consider the awful PC conflict if I took a shine to a blog person of undefined gender (because I’m in enough trouble here) who said ‘I prefer not to have people with moustaches around me’. Aaargh! Whose right is right?

I think that all this talk of ‘rights’ is rubbish in the way in which it is being forced upon us. The so-called ‘rights’ are not rights at all. They are the hymn of the perverted-minded. In order to live together peaceably we have repsonsibilities to others and to society in general. ‘Rights’ seekers seem a bit short on responsibilities. Funny that.

My moustache is, of course, an analogy for the gross indecency of forcing people to put up with circumstances they abhor in the name of PC. Unless the question is politically sensitive to the appalling government imposed upon us by - - (see above). If I happen to be a person of colour and a believer in Islam (and there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with either of those definitions) then I can say what I like and behave how I like. If I am a person of no colour (a.k.a.white) and possibly a follower of a Christian religion or, indeed, of no religion whatsoever, then I’d better bite my tongue.

Sorry, but I believe in a level playing field. I have many friends of varying colours and various religions and both enjoy and respect them all. They have taught me much. Their homelands have their standards to which I adhere whenever I visit. If in your land you don’t drink alcohol, then neither will I. It is your land. But what of my land? This govt. has no respect for me or my land. Having debated changing my Church, should I change my country as well?

Cor, crumbs, this blogging business is heavy thinking. Which is a great bonus for us all.

I’m a few glasses of the blessed malt into lunchtime. May small peace come to you and may a small crumb of time bring you peace. Peace - it’s a gracious thing. Think about it. Dad

Well, crumbs. Thanks to all of you who took the time and trouble to straighten my head out. And I’m sorry for my unedifying episode of self-pity. Not Dad at all, really, but it just caught up with me. ESPECIAL ‘Oi’ to Julianna. No, J, I didn’t mean you and can’t bear the thought of not being here for you. So I’m back on the blogging trail again.

Time to move on. Off to see the Doc tomorrow for the regular check-up and I’m fed up with all that. Nothing seems to change but I get torn off a strip for failure to do various things. The one bright spot is that we always discuss F 1 racing during the season and Sunday’s race was a humdinger. Marred greatly by ITV putting forever of ads on in the closing laps when excitement was at its peak. If they pulled that stunt during a soccer match there’d be a riot and their offices would be burned down!

The saga of Pope Ben the umpteenth has been interesting. I was a devoted Anglican as a youth and sang in the Cathedral choir and all that stuff. (Actually known as St.Albans Abbey and a lovely place it is. A big town in Roman times known as Verulamium and the Abbey tower is built in part with Roman bricks.) Anyway, when up at Cambridge and in need of some serious counselling over a big problem I got ‘brushed off’ by the senior Church-person to whom I turned for advice. Slowly ‘my’ Church went from bad to worse (in my opinion) and has slipped steadily down the slope ever since. The various details don’t matter because they affect me and not others but for years now I have visited Churches and other centres for worship when they were empty for quiet prayer and contemplation. But I like some of the things I hear about Ben. Yes I hated it when priests in his Church and mine suddenly faced the congregation instead of facing East and leading the congregation. They moved the altar. They turned services into a kind of party with everyone sitting around. I gather he’s not up for that. If he brings back the Tridentine Mass (the one in Latin) as well I might join up. I cannot forgive ‘my’ Church for removing a beloved and entirely satisfactory Bible and Book of Common Prayer and replacing them with rubbish.

That idea of moving to the RC Church begs various complex ethical ideological questions, though. I believe that abortion at any time is infanticide - but if someone’s going to do it anyway it’s better in a controlled environment than in a frowsy insanitary back street place. So it’s a matter of degree. But murdering an unborn soul created by a deliberate choice (even if it were unwise or over-enthusiastic) is not a ’simple’ lifestyle choice like a change of hair-style - it’s still murder. Hmm.

I can’t follow the row about contraception, because the RC Church believes in ‘the rythm method’ (however fluky that is) and that’s contraception. So if they accept the principle why cavil about the method? And that’s without the ethical problem of AIDS.

As to other conflicts, I’m with Papal thinking. If you want to have women priests or homosexual priests - then go set up a separate Church for it, don’t highjack the old one. That way people who liked their Church the way it was are untroubled.

‘Liberal’ isn’t ‘right’, it’s merely someone else’s viewpoint. I don’t mind what people think or do providing they don’t try to force it on me if I don’t agree. And not agreeing does not make me ‘wrong’. So I’m entitled to have my views respected, too.

Taking our ‘old’ Church away from us has caused a very long-standing friend of mine and myself enormous distress in the case of the beautiful St.Albans Abbey itself where we have both worshipped all our lives - and he very frequently since he lives in St.Albans. Now there is an openly declared homosexual Dean there. His shadow has desecrated our lovely House of Prayer and neither of us can bring ourselves to set foot in it. I don’t give a damn about his personal life but I DO give much more than a damn because neither he nor the confounded lunatic Bishop who appointed him have the right to hurt people like my friend and I. Go off and join the American bloke and found the ‘New Church for those of my persuasion’. I’ll gladly defend your right to do that.

Whew, Dad’s back on the angst scene again. I wonder what percentage of readers will agree with me? Hmmm.

Well I must dash out to post more of herself’s miniature gardens. Looking back on your support for me reminds me - it’s amazing how much strength others can share with you when things are tough. With my love and thanks - Dad

I’m not having a good week. And my blog stuff is not of general interest. Well, thanks - at least I know where I am. Henry caught me up in this for the best of reasons and, thanks, H, it was fine whilst it lasted.

I offered my skills for free - and there was a nibble or two then retrieved. I offered my soul. Of no interest. Well, it doesn’t need to be. Dad should never have tried to join a circle of friends young enough to be, indeed, my children.

I wish you all well. This post closes Dad’s blog. BUT if I can help you in any way I’m still here for you - albeit in the background. Mail Henry and ask for me.

Dad’s passing thought? Seek no return for the concern you offer. It’s sufficient that you offered with a clear heart.

Love you all and goodbye - Dad

Well it was frosty this morning but the day is mild now. Listening to Chet Atkins again because it’s been a bit fraught.

Firstly - Hi Julianna - hang in there treasure. It’s a really hard time for you but I’m here and I’m sure the blogger-general mob are all with you, too. Breathe deeply. Think pos. If it’s meant it’ll work. If not, you are an ace person and there is an ace world out there for you. With care and love - Dad.

Otherwise it’s been an up-and-down day. Exciting mails about my Project including a great surprise. And then there’s the sxxt. I called a Gov’t quango for confirmation of something and I get this TOTAL MORON. He uses words that they’ve invented and I’ve never heard of and when I ask him ‘Wot that?’ he acts stupid. At one stage I explain that I pay his wages so please will he just shut up and answer my (reasonable) questions? But no. So this afternoon I speak to his Boss who explains all in simple terms, offers constructive help and is a really nice person. Where on earth do the morons come from? And who is stupid enough to employ them and pay them with my money? Life’s a bxxxxr.

And despite all of that the opinion poll says sxxt faced blair is 5 points ahead. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH PEOPLE??????

So perhaps I’m not having a good day after all. Go on, cheer me up. I really need it.

Have I a calm word? So long as you can laugh at them, they haven’t won. Even if they win the battle, they haven’t won the war. Cheers, all - Dad.

Thanks to Sarah for various helpful comments in the past. This blog is in response to her latest question. What is Brief Therapy?

Responding to another part of her comment whilst I have a detailed knowledge of female undergarments (having run a small chain of shops called Top Drawer selling such things ) this is different. Not more important, because NOTHING could be more important than a lady’s undergarments - but. Oh, and I’ve bought more pairs of tights and wicked knickers than any of you will buy in a lifetime so don’t bother to take me on. But if you like I’ll tell you all about it some time. Oh, my, was it fun. And then there were the shows.

Well now. You’ve all heard of Psychotherapy. (Listen up at the back, there) In American films / novels / and listening to John Cleese you will have come across people who go to see their Analyst every Thursday at 2 o’clock (or whatever) and have been doing so for YEARS. A ‘usual’ p-therapist tries to take you back to your very beginning and create a ‘different you’ in order to solve a problem you have. There are various branches of p-therapy (PLEEZE don’t ask) but that’s how it works.

About 30 years ago a small group of p-therapists in America were (or was, even) shooting the breeze and probably ingesting a liquid relaxant when one of them said if we are seeing people for YEARS then we’re not doing a very good job. Gulp. Pause. Lift glass / pour from bottle. Think. (I wasn’t there but a small experience of life suggests that is what would have happened). ‘Erm’ ‘Urp, pardon’ ‘Umm’ might well have been the response.

After a while someone hit on the idea that instead of changing the world for someone, why not FOCUS on the current problem that brought the Client to see us and try to create a SOLUTION - either complete or partial - that would make their life better. And why not make this short and sharp as in BRIEF. From this came the concept of SOLUTION FOCUSED BRIEF THERAPY. And I am one of those. An SFBTherapist (or ‘a’ if you want to be picky and think the words not the letters).

We share information about cases (but not names) and the AVERAGE number of sessions with a Client is just 3. If it gets as far as 10 then we cut the Client off and direct them elsewhere because they are becoming dependent upon us (which is why people see their Analyst for YEARS) and that is NOT the idea.

We have certain processes in common and other parts of what we do are individual to us. I start off trying to explain that I’m like a Coach (the trainer not the bus). I’m here to help you do something you can do for yourself - you just need a nudge and some ideas with my support. And it works A TREAT.

I’m trying to learn how to do this over the internet and call Julianna as evidence. Hey - J - I’m here for you but you’re doing it FOR YOURSELF. Right? But I’m still here, love. I bet you’re hanging in there and every day is a bright new day.

Is what we do all bxxxxxxt and waving corn, as the phrase has it? No, it’s very serious stuff and it helps people in all sorts of ways. But I DON’T want to re-invent you, I just want to help you cope with today’s problem and solve it totally - or if not make it bearable. IT WORKS!!

So thanks, Sarah, for making me explain. And I really want to help people - in private. Mail windsor@power-base.co.uk and let’s talk. To bloggers it’s free, it’s private, and what have you to lose? But you might gain a whole lot.

Phew! Bye for now.

Dad’s few words after that? You’re never alone. There is no sadness or distress that is not suffered by others, too. There’s nothing wrong with seeking respite and a helping hand from a concerned person outside your circle of family and friends. And let’s find a solution together. Cheers, all - Dad

I’ve been severely castigated for bloglessness. Crushed, I am. But I’ve had a lot on, world. Honest!

Somebody was very foolish and you might enjoy the story. The phone rings. ‘I’d like to speak to the person who pays the phone bill’. ‘That’s me’. ‘Are you a BT customer?’ (For the Colonials that stands for British Telecom. Don’t ask.) ‘Yes’ (True, but I pay them for line rental - NOT calls made. But he didn’t ask.) ‘Oh good, I can save you 70% on your phone bill!’ ‘You can? A whole 70%?’ ‘Yes Mr. xxx we can.’

Now I have to explain something. I’m not a Lawyer (that’s for our out-of-Country friends - down here in the Mother of Parliaments and of most other Countries we call them a Solicitor. Well, you can’t throw real bricks over the internet. But it’s TRUE!!!) however I have spent much of my life negotiating and dealing with Contracts - so I know something about Contract Law (but by no means all of it). It’s a nasty world out there so I have a tape recorder fitted to my phone. If you said it - I can prove it. That’s surprised a lot of people over time and normally costs them. Heh, heh. So my recorder hums away quietly.

‘Well, thank you. I’m happy to acept the contract you offered’. ‘So you’d like to sign up with xxxxxxtel?’ ‘No, I simply accepted your offer’. ‘How much do you pay BT each quarter for your phone calls?’ ‘I don’t. I pay them line rental’. ‘Who (don’t rise up in anger about this abuse of the English language) do you pay for your calls?’ ‘xxxxx’ ‘Oh well, that’s different.’ ‘In what way?’ ‘Their call charges are much lower than BT’s’. ‘Yup’ ‘Well we can help you with - - - (don’t bother)’ ‘But I don’t make that kind of call’. ‘Well thank you for listening’. ‘Thank you for our verbal contract’. ‘What?’ ‘A contract need not be in writing, it can be verbal’. ‘Huh?’ ‘We have a verbal contract which states that you will pay me 70% of my call charges’. ‘No we don’t!!’ ‘Yup, we have’

I’m not cruel. I’m not unreasonable. I’m cuddly Dad. So I said if they sent me a cheque for 70% of my call charges for one year I would agree that the contract would be null and void. I had to get to the upper echelons before someone sighed and said -’It’s in the post.’

There can be a verbal contract - providing you can prove it.

Here speaketh your Dad who can be fairly wicked. Just ask.

Oh, and by the way I’m trying to explore the success of Brief Therapy by internet. Please ask me. I’m sure I can do it. Could I do it for you?

Last words today? Sing your private tune in your head. Raise your head and look the world in the eye. Don’t swagger but respect yourself. You have so much to offer - believe me. With my love, Dad

Warm! Bright! Country shirt and cords too, too heavy for trip to Village and around about this morning. Chinos and polo shirt - yeah!! I suffer badly from ’sad’ (no, NOT tears, the syndrome thing) and today is WONDERFUL!!!! Yes, well, calm down at the back there, Dad, you have a readership that used to respect you. YEAH!! Oh well.

The Village is super. Tesco bought up a ‘neighbourhood store’ in the High Street (that’s for peasants, it’s actually called The Broadway. Please note Cap Ltrs when ritin in) and created Tesco Metro - next to dowdy, tatty, awful Somerfields. Bingo - Somerfields closed for a month and have complete re-vamp. Smart. New paint. New graphics. - Pause - same staff, same grotty produce but higher prices. We notice stuff like that on the High Street (that’s for peasants - oh forget it). A laugh a minute because Lidl suddenly closed for the same month because their roof was falling off. TWO Supermarkets within 5 mins of each other shut for the same month. Tesco also has two within 5 minutes and must be larfing its head off.

But I went hither and yon including the library and the sweetie shop and everyone was so nice.

Then we went to the mega-hobby shop and bought much stuff for the mini-gardens, and moved on to a proper Garden Centre staffed by knowledgeable people who are very nice. Bought stuff and returned home sated and with nice things to plant out. Days don’t get much better than this.

Returned to view e mail and suffered the usual bunch of obscene rubbish and one chancer telling me he was my bank and please eneter everything in the site below!! Since I NEVER respond to any of this absolute tosh why is my address still out there? And where is the pervert out there who does this stuff? I would like to have a serious debate with him and try to help him with his problem. But he lacks self-esteem and won’t answer this reasonable request. And, no, this is not a gender-biased comment - none of the women I ever met in my entire life had such a pin-head brain that they would bother doing this stuff on a computer in the attic by the light of a flickering hurricane lamp.

I NEVER AGAIN want to read about a Jackrabbit vibrator (What is a ‘Jackrabbit’?) I’ve seen rabbits at it and they vibrated pefectly well on their own. Is the League Against Cruel Sports banning the observation of happy rabbits in the field and proposing we give them auto-pseudo-glee-devices instead? Double weird. And if not rabbits who wants vibro-on-a-stick? Play Wagner and cuddle the speakers. At least you get an intellectual benefit. Then there’s ‘Pharmacy’ (I go to Boots in the Village. Would you trust a pervert in cyber-space for the right aftershave?) and ‘Enhancement’. That’s a REAL puzzle. I looked in my dictionary and ‘to enhance’ means ‘to intensify or increase in value, quality etc.’ Since no-one’s ever complained about the quality of me or my efforts and considered it cheap at the price they paid to buy me dinner why should I need ‘enhancement’? The cyber-world is a real puzzle to me.

Well, herself has her hairdresser coming shortly and I have new library books so I’ll give up for a while.

Todays thought? Life without music is life in a desert. Ignore the poseurs (how can anything ‘atonal’ be music?) play what pleases you and smile - or cry - as you listen. Music can indeed move the soul. May the sun shine on you. Dad.

‘Do another blog’ came the cry. Alright, already! Sun shining, music playing, Friday again. Must get to the library tomorrow ‘cause I’m out of readable stuff. That’s a joke given that there’s something like 1,000 books in here that I’ve collected for various reasons. But most are for dipping into for research, not reading from cover to cover.

Talking of books, are you fed up with Amazon? I started buying from them from the US then switched when they opened up here. I buy offbeat CD’s and non-fiction books for my professional use - not fiction or ‘top 10′ stuff. Well they used to be jolly good and I got delivery pretty smartish. For the past 2 years or more they’ve been HOPELESS. Things take weeks, or they wind up saying they can’t do it at all. On 2nd. Feb. I ordered 3 books urgently needed for a project. 3 wks. dly. Then a mail saying ‘another 2 weeks’. Then I checked on the web and dly. was due this week. Today - more mail. It’ll be another 6 weeks!!!! That’s about 3 1/2 months for standard works. Anybody any good ideas how to buy books when I need them over the web and NOT by going to town to a bookshop?

Anyway thanks to Sarah for Pay Pal, e-bay and dollar cheques. Yup, ta, we have a PP a/c but this lady couldn’t handle that!

Next a thought for Julianna - thanks for such a lovely comment. Made my week. So keep on keeping on, goddit?

I’ve been submerged this week by e mail traffic about a research project I’m working on. If this is what happens before I start what will it be like later on? I dunno.

It’s no good, I’m just not a gardener. I like projects - with a beginning, a middle and an end. Then move on. Day-in-day-out keep doing it is not my thing. It took me years to find that out - I wish someone had told me when I was about 15. My life would have been very different.

Have you been watching Masterchef (BBC2, 6.30)? It’s been quite interesting and I can’t figure out which of the last 3 will win tonight (It’s the last night). They’re 3 very different people with different characters and skill-sets. I’m actually very fond of cooking but can’t do it here. There’s an extractor fan over the stove in a casing that sticks out and if I lean forward to look in a pan or whatever the edge of this fitting smacks me across my forehead. So I gave up. Sad, really. If you like food (I do, I do) you ought to cook it. It’s just too much trouble and too expensive to wreck the kitchen.

Can beer get stale? I stopped drinking beer ages ago but I found a bottle of Kronenberg whilst looking for something else and it has a ‘best by’ date on it. Feb. 2001. Opened it, smelt it, tasted it. Looked OK tasted OK. So I drank it. What now? I’ll let you know so that you can feel secure drinking ancient ale.

Things have changed since I was at Uni. (early 1950’s). For a start my College (St.Catharine’s Camb. a.k.a. Cats) has women undergrads. Weird. There was enough trouble when we had to cycle out to Girton or Newnham (New Hall was a brand new Women’s College with only a few people there and NO MALE VISITORS) or they came to us. You probably can’t sleep now for shuffling steps on the stairs and softly banging doors. And bedheads. Anyway today I got the Lent Term Alumni’s Mag. and at the back it has a long list of College Merchandise for sale, almost all of which didn’t exist when I was up. Casting an idle eye down it I came to ‘Ladies Garter in College Colours £4.25′ Crumbs, we could have done with a few of those way back then. But when is it sartorially correct for College Ladies to wear the thing? Or two of them? I’ve only ever seen (in photo’s of course) women wearing one garter. Tell me, was your other stocking supposed to fall into careless wrinkles as it sagged earthwards? The things I’ve never worried about before. And who’s going to see it? (I know, I know - don’t bother) The whole point of College ’stuff’ is to let the admiring on-looker place you instantly (or not if you walk down Broadstone Village High Street on a Saturday wearing a polo shirt with College Crest). So the Mag. raises more questions than it answers. Should I write in?

You’d think, given the age of Cats, that the’d have got the College Colours sorted about 200 years ago. I went there about 5 years ago and popped into the (same old) shop to buy some more College shirts and talk to the dear old codgers in there who claim to remember me when I visit. ‘Tell me’ they said ‘What are Cats colours?’ Thinks. ‘You’ve been selling this stuff for years, surely you know by now?’ ‘Go on’ they said ‘What do you think?’ ‘Maroon and pink, of course’. ‘Well one of the undergrads has been researching the College history and he claims it’s maroon and white. The College doesn’t know so we have to stock two different scarves now’. True. Honest. God knows what the colours are today - perhaps I should buy another scarf and find out?

Things you may not know about Cats. It was founded in 1473 and it’s the only College where the back of it faces the main road. Because the old road was the other side at one time and Cats faced Queens which is on the opposite side. Visit Queens - it’s beautiful. Anyway, King Henry VIth came along and started building Kings College in 1441. So a while after Cats was built (things took longer in those days - although Planning Permission seems pretty bogged down under Prescott) the road had to be moved, of course, so ‘new’ Trumpington Street was built - running past the back of Cats which to this day remains open to view - the only College like it.

You’ve heard of Hobson’e choice? Meaning you’ve no choice - you get what you’re given. Well Hobson was a chap who hired out horses and his stables were next to Cats. Fancy that.

I guess that’s enough of a blog for now. Did you know that current International Paper Sizes (ISO standard)come in A, B and C formats which all work to the same formula but related sizes? So A4 paper fits into a C4 envelope which, in turn, fits into a B4 envelope. (Don’t ask). Except for the Japanese International Standard which uses a different formula so their A sizes are the same but the B sizes are different. ISO B4 is 250 x 353 mm. but JB4 is 257 x 364 mm. (REALLY don’t ask). How do I know? I used to own a printing busines and a graphics studio. But I’m much better now.

Last thought? What did you learn today? A day without enquiry is a day lost to life. Have a good one - Dad.