Tag: Non Fiction

In a word: Sheet

Well, we all know what a sheet is, it’s one of those things you put on a bed.  A bottom sheet, a fitted sheet, a top sheet, flannelette sheet.

It could also be a piece of paper, e.g. pass me a sheet of paper please, only to get in reply, what size?

There can be a sheet of flames, best if you see one get away as fast as you can.

Of course, that fire can be put out by rain sheeting down.

You can have a sheet map, that is one that opens out.  Funny how you can never get them folded back the same way.  And a problem when you’re in a car and open it out – hang on, I can’t see out the window!

That lake is a lovely sheet of water, very still just as the sun comes up, and then, what a reflection.  Great if you are a landscape painter.

Then there’s sheet metal, did that in school and wasn’t very good at it.

If you’re a philatelist, then there’s always a sheet of stamps, might be worth something in a hundred years’ time.

Then, if it is worth millions, you might turn white as a sheet with shock.

But the best of all, if you drink too much it is said you are ‘two sheets to the wind’.

When you’re given another chance, it is like being given a clean sheet.

And another form might be to do with sailing when you sheet a sail, which is to say you are making it either tauter or less taut.

English can be confusing sometimes, can’t it?

The land of the long white cloud

In a country that is renowned for clouds, and even having the nickname of ‘the land of the long white cloud’ there is always a few clouds hanging around, or, as on some of the days of our most recent holiday, more than a few.

Unfortunately, these were not snow clouds as my grandchildren had hoped.  They saw snow for the first time, but it may have been all that more special if it had snowed while they were there.

This day, was, for a while, dark and gloomy.  The rain threatened but never came.

This was a day of sporadic sunshine and a cold breeze

This was one of the better days, with sunshine in winter, and some spectacular landscapes on offer for keen photographers

This day had the odd lonely cloud hoping to make an impact

or clouds that just skimmed the surface of Lake Taupo at sunrise

Sayings: Beyond the pale

I’ve often said, when espying an injustice that was so outrageously displayed that no one could miss it, as being beyond the pale.

The pale within a fence became an area of land within a boundary such as a county, and then to areas within Ireland that were held by the British. As these became smaller, those areas were deemed to be uncivilized.

This, in modern parlance, beyond the pale refers to someone’s behavior being outside the accepted norm.

 

There’s also…

In a word: Pale

Which is the color of the face of a person who is usually desperately unwell?

As distinct from a pale face, a white man is described by the American Indians. This, sadly, was learned from American westerns, motion pictures that told a rather interesting version of events between the Indians and the new settlers.

Paleface was in one movie, in particular, Bob Hope.

A pale can also be a single upright piece of wood in a fence.

Something could pale into significance, or be a pale imitation of a better quality article.

Not to be confused with a pail, which is a bucket, wooden or otherwise, that holds liquids.

The most famous of which is that which Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water, and, well, you know how that ended.

In a word: Piece

Aside from the fact that it really means part of something else, we’ve got to remember that it is one of those ‘i before e except after c’ things.

I have a piece of the puzzle.  Well, maybe not.  You know what it’s like when you’re assembling a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle.  Yes, you get to the end and one piece is missing.

You’re so angry you want to give someone a piece of your mind.

Just remember not to give too many people pieces or you will become mindless.

We might be listening to a musical piece, which can be a movement, I think, in a symphony

Or we might piece together the parts of a child’s toy, especially on that night before Christmas when everything can and will go wrong.  I’ve been there and done that far too many times.

I’ve been known to move a chess piece incorrectly, no, come think of it, I’m always doing that

Some people call a gun a piece.

This is not to be confused with the word peace, which means something else, and hopefully, everyone will put away their pieces (guns) and declare peace.

And, every Sunday, at the church, there’s always an opportunity to say to the people around you ‘peace be with you’.

I wonder if that works very well if the person standing next to you is your enemy?

I should not be reading posts…

Today as I always do, I go through the last 100 or so posts that turn up in my WordPress reader, and read what are generally some of the most interesting items that will brighten up my day.

Then I find others that, well, are quite frankly disturbing.

My problem might be that I am so far removed from the situation that my perspective is different, tempered perhaps by the fact we get news from a great many different sources, and not from only a few, and some, in a way, quite radicalised in getting their message across.

The news can be black or white with no shades in between. And that sort of news, or opinion, can be damaging, especially if the reader is continually bombarded with a specific message that purports to be ‘right’ to the detriment of all else.

They say the two subjects that should never be spoken about are religion and politics. They’re right, whoever they were, because both a polarising, and both find their proponents with views that are quite strong. And they will argue that your opposing view is wrong, wrong, and wrong, because your sources are ‘radical’ and ignore the ‘truth’.

When the same message comes from both sides of the street, how did you get an informed view?

So, in my infinite wisdom, I bit. I had to say something, and I know I will get a blast, from a pile of people who radically oppose everything I’ve said. In a society that extolls free speech, I expect that. We all have a right to an opinion. The day we don’t, well, let’s not go there, that’s just fuel for the fire of both sides arguments against the other.

But one thing I did say, rather than sign petitions to muzzle or get rid of big tech, whatever big tech is, I thought a more radical approach was necessary.

Let’s get right of computers altogether.

Then I realized the folly of my statement. That meant I would not have this medium to extoll my, sometimes idiotic, notions of how to make the world a better place.

Thinking about it a little more, other than the fact I would lose my platform to speak about this that and the other, it’s not as daft as it sounds.

Computers have done nothing but cause trouble since the day they were invented. Yes, they have advantages, but think of the job losses, think of the crime, think of the scams, think of the cyber bullying, think of the government control over us, the list would go on forever, and we would all eventually be struggling to find a reason why computers were so good.

It’s a silly idea. No one will ever decided to remove computers from the face of the earth.

But you can’t attack a problem without going to the source. Big tech is not the problem, the computer is. It’s like guns, yes, another very touchy subject like religion and politics, except there’s not a simple solution for that problem either. A gun is just a means to do something that can be done a dozen other ways.

So is a computer. Perhaps the answer is not to connect them to each other. After all the original computers were not, and as such fulfilled a lot of the the potential they were designed for. It’s only after they started talking to each other, that a whole host of other unforeseen problems arose. Or maybe they were, and were purposely ignored.

To me, the answer to the problem is far more complex, and, at the moment, far beyond our capacity to understand and resolve. Much like cancer. And, dare I say it, much like the current coronavirus.

Sadly, though, one thing will not change, I will keep reading and commenting, and sometimes make a horse’s ass of myself in the process. After all, I’m only human.

The Perils of Travelling: The last plane out on Friday night

Everyone knows that if you are on the last flight out on a Friday night the chances of you getting away on time are remote.

Yep.

We’re on the last flight out.

Yep.

There’s no way in hell we’re leaving on time.

But, here’s the thing.

Our incoming plane arrives 6 minutes late, so there’s every hope of getting away on time.

We are, of course, delusional.

Planes can’t fly without a crew, and part of our crew on another incoming plane, which is, yep,
delayed.

In fact, the whole arrivals board is lit up with the word “delayed” for every flight but our incoming plane and one other from Sydney.

And, no, our missing crew members are not on either.

So, it becomes a waiting game and placating messages from the gate crew first to tell us we’re waiting for crew and two more times to tell us we will be boarding soon.

The look on some faces says they’ve been through all this before.

Then, one of the gate staff, communicator in hand goes out to see if the errant crew members are coming. She waits a few minutes but it probably takes longer than that for them to finalize their duties on the incoming plane and get to our gate.

She returns to the gate counter just as an electric car comes towards us from one of the satellites.

Crew found.

Boarding starts.

We leave 35 minutes late. About the average time all the delayed planes were, well, delayed.

Ah, the joys of travelling on a Friday night

That was my January

It ended as a bad memory, and I can only wish that the 31st never happened.

To start with, I hadn’t slept for three days after taking myself off the anti depressants I was prescribed for back pain. That put me in a bad mood, which had been building for the three days.

Then I had to cater for a family lunch which I’d probably the most favourite thing in my life, and used it to keep my mind occupied, with great success, juggling all of the elements.

But after the adrenaline high of getting it done, after everyone went home, it was like the air had been let out of the balloon.

It might be just a symptom of the past year, where just when we thought it was getting better, along came another disaster, just to remind us that we may never get back to the normal we had before COVID came along.

Are there aspects of the measures put in place over the last year worth keeping? Yes. Like keeping 1.5 metres apart. There’s nothing worse than people leaning all over you in the supermarket, or pushing past you, or into you with the trolley driven by the child from hell.

Like sitting further apart in restaurants so you don’t have to listen to the foul mouthed drunken fool at the next table abuse staff, his guests, and our ears.

Like everyone cleaning off the child dribble, sticky ice creams and slobbered candy off the handles of the trolleys with disinfectant wipes, and doses of hand sanitiser. Some people still don’t understand the basic concepts of cleanliness.

OK, enough of a rant. I’m just tired and cranky.

I think we all have reason to be cranky though. Our politicians seem to err too far one side or too fat the other, and there never seems to be any middle ground. Fortunately most of the people in this country take everything the politicians say with a grain of salt, and can make up their own minds what is right and wrong, and very few go off on a mad tangent, and in that way we don’t suffer too much.

But we can’t leave the country, rightly so, and no one but our own people can come back, and it is these few that cause our problems. I don’t think rigid quarantine works anywhere in the world because there’s always the few that break it, and the few guards who want to profit from it. IT is perhaps the price of freedom, though some will tell you we have none.

In reality, we do, and a lot more than anywhere else in the world, except perhaps New Zealand, and good thing we are neighbours.

But as for January….

It was like December, November, October, blah, blah, blah.

I’m not expecting 2021 to be much better than 2020, and nor am I expecting the vaccine will be the Godsent we’re looking for. I think a lot of people failed to realise viruses mutate, and it takes time for that to happen. TO say you have facilitate a vaccine in record time is the statement of a fool, for that very reason.

It might not take 5 years, or 9, or 15, but it will take as long as it takes to collect all of the variations and mutations, and have a vaccine that works on all of them, not just one or two. The South African mutation is a case in point, and if it becomes the dominant strain, then we are back to square two, maybe.

Perhaps deep down that’s what is making me angry, the fact I, one of the more vulnerable, may never, ever be safe.

What I’ve been watching…

I just happened to be flicking through the endless channels of our cable service and remarking of the terrible selection available, that I stumpled across a John Wayne western.

On odd choice you might sat for a person who lives in Australia, and has had no familiarisation with old American history and the wild west. Yes, I suspect it was nothing like what we see in the movies and on television, but, no one does the American wild west like John Wayne.

Of course, it helps when other stars are in it like Dean Martine, known more for his easy style of singing than for his gun slinging. That too of Walter Brennan who turned up in an old television series The Real McCoy’s, and Ricky Nelson from the Nelson’s, another television show we used to watch.

That western was called Rio Bravo. it had basically the same script as El Dorado, and each followed the other, so I got a two for one hit. El Dorado had James Caan and Robert Mitchum, another two favorites.

Not long after that I got another dose of Wayne and Martin in The Sons of Katie Elder, no so much the same script, but the same sort of rollicking western. Bad guys, yes, were dressed in black. You could always tell who they were, without introduction.

And the landscapes the films were shot against, picturesque indeed.

There are others, like True Grit, with Glen Campbell, and it seems that a western can take a singer and turn them into an actor of sorts. Certainly, True Grit is one of my favourites.

When that brief moment of euphoria died away, it was back to the search for entertainment, and I ended up sampling a few series, just to see if any were worth watching.

Snowpiercer – what an interesting premise, seven years going around in circles on a train with what is suspected to be the last of civilization. I suspect there are more people from other countries alive, just not using a form of transport. It wasn’t all that bad…

Bridgerton – An interesting twist on the bread and butter period productions from the BBC and ITV. My favourite, and the only sane member of the family was Eloise, and don’t we all aspire as writers to be like Lady Whistledown

The Outpost – yes it’s a teen angst show, but you have to suspend belief sometime in your dotage, and settle into what might be called entertainment

His Dark Materials – Read above. Ruth Wilson is deliciously evil, most of the time!

Pennyworth – Who knew that Batman’s valet was such a complex character, with such a dry sense of humor.

Star Trek Discovery – I’m never sure where this is going or why, and at the end of this series, I’m still in the dark. Perhaps that’s why Star Trek is such demanding viewing.

The Crown – Yes, I knew there was a reason why I hated Prince Charles, and now I know. If it could be said there was a sane member of that family, it’s probably Princess Anne, though she might tend to disagree with me with the brothers she has.

I let you know if I find anything else that might tempt me to turn on the TV.

It’s certainly not to watch CNN or Fox News I can tell you.

In a word: Green

Of course, it is a color, one used for traffic lights, grass, and a lot of different shades.

It’s made up of blue and yellow, adjusting the amounts of each to get the shade you want.

I once had a dark green suit.

I don’t have any green emeralds.

When you get a green light, it means to go ahead, or just go, in traffic, or for the starting of a project

And a green run on the ski fields denotes the easiest run – just about my level!

Green with envy, yes, though I’m not sure why they picked green for envy

In England especially, a green is a patch of grassy land, usually in the middle of a village

A green worker is one that is new to the job, and usually gets all the rotten jobs

Then there is the biggest money-spinner of all time: going green, which means eco friendly.

I have only one question, why is it to go ‘green’ is to charge far more than normal

Oh, and by the way, political parties that are ecocentric are usually galled the greens

And, these are the same people who chain themselves to trees, detering bulldozers

The blue sea is really green, believe it or not!

I’ve been reading…

I’m taken back to my school days after reading a post about bullies.

I know there are a host of different types out there, but I’m guessing the habit of those who ate perpetuating it start at a young age, and that’s in school.

I got through school by perseverance and luck. I say luck because at the very height of that bullying it could have been a lot worse than a bloody nose and minor fractures.

Back then I had no idea why they picked on me other than I was small and frail looking, so I guess I was someone who would not be able to defend themselves.

It was another realisation that others in my grade were never picked on, but it didn’t sink in that they were bigger and could, and possibly did, fight back.

Now, with the benefit of time and reading, I know or understand the motivation behind it, that perhaps they didn’t know any better because of what had happened at home. After all, what we see there, every day, is the sum of our first experiences in life, and therefore consider that as the norm.

But here’s the oddity that I only began to understand when I had children of my own. My father was a bully, he beat my mother, and us frequently, and for no reason at all.

It wasn’t until much later when I found letters he had written to my mother before they were married, that I got an insight into the psyche of the man.

He had been treated appallingly by his parents and most likely by his brothers, and spiralling out of that environment into a world war, if perhaps to escape what was happening in his life, it only got worse.

I suspect the bullying might have been a symptoms of everything that had happened at home, at war, and just having to cope with coming back to a world that was completely different to the one he left behind.

And as one might have expected, his children, as a result of seeing and being on the end of such treatment, might well have turned out the same.

But they didn’t.

It turns out we have a choice, to perpetuate the violence or understand that it is neither necessary or acceptable. Of course those options were not readily available or to be discerned unless there were outside factors.

I was lucky that the bullying in school did not have an influence, that it was not for long, and that relief from it was mostly due to moving schools, and states, before it had an effect.

At the new school there were a few borderline cases, but it was a school that didn’t tolerate disrespect in any form, and I learned that what I had suffered before was not the norm everywhere.

That change of scenery also had an effect on home life too, and now I understand that people forced to work in jobs they hate because of their circumstance quite often dictates how a victim might conduct their personal life.

We had always been in situations where necessity dictate circumstances, as bad as those could be, and its effect on a person’s mood, outlook, and behaviour.

My father finally had the job he wanted to have, with the freedoms that came with it, and we all benefited. It didn’t mean later that circumstances wouldn’t change for the worse, but it was long enough for me to realise what the motivation was behind his behaviour.

And that it would set the standard for the rest of my life, and although we had some very low lows, I knew that it was my own choices that led us there, and I had to accept responsibility for those choices, and not let them drive my behaviour.

There was no question at any time that I should take my anger out on anyone but myself, and fix the problem, which each time it happened, I did.

In the end, I like to think that my children learned from my mistakes, and that since they were never subjected to the horrors my father visited upon us, They did not visit them upon their children.

So the bottom line is, and I cannot see why this is so hard for governments and social progressives to grasp, that the problem needs to be attacked at the very root, and that is family life.

Yes, by all means, at a school level, tell children about the horrors of bullying, but it must be done in concert with their parents, because all too often those children have picked up their habits from home, and are almost past the point of no return.

And it can be done. I am a case in point.