AHHH, FRIDAY

Horoscopes.
Written by young things (or sad old bastards pretending to be young things) that invariably say things like "If you're single then expect some wonderful news this week"

The trigger for that was watching the wonderful  Getting On TV programme this evening where Jo Brand was talking about her horoscope one morning being totally different to what her daily life was like.

Getting On is one of those sublime British television comedy dramas that will endure in the same way that The Office, The Thick of It and Yes Minister will endure. Interestingly Peter Capaldi the wonderfully ascerbic Malcolm in The Thick of it directs Getting On and some of the characters act in both shows.
"I don't usually cry after sex. Before and during, that's a given but.." - a line from Free Agents another good British comedy. You can see I'm talking about UKTV here.

Which brings me back to Fridays. Bugger all that TGIF crap. I like Fridays because they are Fridays. Most of my working life I have worked Saturdays so Friday doesn't mean the end of a working week. Why do I like them?
Some random thoughts are:

• Ivanhoe. The TV series screened on TV in New Zealand in the mid 1960's. It was on Friday nights at 6.30. Brilliant. The neighbourhood kids would play after school, have tea and meet again after Ivanhoe and relive our favourite moments.

• Fish and Chip lunches at school. They have never been better since. The orders were accepted at 'playtime' (the mid-morning break). The goods were ordered and picked up at lunch-time. In big boxes. The wrapped parcels we all squashed together and different flavours and aromas infused. You might have ordered fish and chips with vinegar but the meal would be flavoured/tainted with battered saveloys and Worcester sauce or oysters.

• Friday nights at The Grand in Willis Street Wellington when I was at University. Meeting up with friends, having a few beers and the expectation of a party. Brilliant.

• Wines after work in the 'cellar door' of the wine companies I have worked for. A chance to try new vintages, old vintages, trial offerings etc.

• Late night shopping in Wellington when I was  a kid off to spend my pocket money.

• OK - the TGIF mood that fellow workers who don't work on Saturdays get.

Well, Friday wasn't so good for him

I like Fridays because I get away from work and the city and back to our house up North. It is also, as you can see from the comments above, the best TV night with those good British comedies.

Getting back to horoscopes, who doesn't sneak a look at those things? as Jo Brand observed they are usually written about love, romance and riches. Jo Brand's character in Getting On is a nurse aide in a geriatric hospital. Her horoscope doesn't say "old Mrs McGrundy is going to have a whoopsie in her bed today and you have to clean it up". Do you know I once studied Astrology? This was at Victoria University in the 1970's. I actually studied lots of things at University - law, architecture, computing, seismology, history, renaissance art, French, English, education, physics and philosophy. The astrology classes were in the evening. I 'studied' this because a young woman, Veronica (yes Veronica just like in the Archie comics) was doing it. Garth Carpenter was the tutors name. He was big in Astrology in New Zealand at the time. I think that Robert Muldoon used to use him as an economic forecaster.

Anyway, creating astrology charts was bloody boring and Veronica wasn't interested in me (probably gay) so I gave it up and got uselessly diverted in another direction.

I've lost my train of thought now (damn Veronica) so here's what Richard (of RBB) would do.

BEST NOT TO SAY

Friend Rod who lives in the street up back from our property is painting his house including the roof.

Rod rented our house while we were overseas for a couple of years and looked after it well.

I was pleased when he found a house to buy nearby.

Rod is a couple of years older than me chronologically but seems a couple of decades older than me in attitudes. He is a bit of a fuss-pot and was telling me that: he was scared of getting up on the ladder; frightened of the scaffolding; and terrified of getting on the roof.

What to say?

Heights haven't ever worried me in the past and I don't really understand other people's fear.

The Old Girl and I have parachuted, parapented, hang-glided, mountaneered and sat on ledges with our feet dangling. 

Anyway, I went around to Rod's place last week and helped him to prime the outside of the house, concentrating on the eaves and hard to reach places at the top of the scaffold.

Over the last weekend, starting from Thursday I had a very debilitating migraine so didn't get a chance to go around to see how he was getting on. The funny thing was though that on the weekend I had a very strange dream.

I dreamt that Rod was flying to Australia or somewhere but not in an airplane, no, he had developed a way to fly on a motorbike! It was a dream after all. I was in a small plane beside him and after take-off I was watching him 'flying' along but he overcompensated his height trajectory and headed up at too high an angle and the bike sort of slipped backwards and down. He fell off and plummeted to the ground. Somehow I got the plane I was in to land and rushed to see him. He was in a hospital at this stage, in bed and thankfully alive. I woke up.

This dream concerned me and so on Sunday I called around but Rod and his wife were away. I checked around the side of the house and the wall had been painted and there were no obvious signs of a fall.

Today (Tuesday) I called around again and Rod was on the roof finishing off the last bits of roofing iron. Luckily the pitch of this roof is gentle and he had been able to paint it OK but he was very visibly relieved to declare it finished.

I didn't tell him about my dream.

GETTING ON*

 * No. this isn't about that excellent British comedy featuring Jo Brand about a nurse in a geriatric ward. See a previous post where I mentioned this:

GETTING ON

The British can do pathos amazingly well unlike the Americans who have to broad-brush everything because the consumer panels that they use to trial programmes, before they go to air, are populated by dullards and fuck-wits ... who actually statistically represent the average US TV viewer. These dullards and fuck-wits manage to screen out (see what I did there?) anything that is in the slightest way cerebral. TV series like Getting On and Afterlife would never get through.

This post is about ageing because two of the leading readers** of this blog have, over the last two days had birthdays and become even older.

There's nothing wrong with becoming older. The latest NZ Listener where the excellent Chris Slane cartoon so appropriately underscored the articles on ageing and the ways that we can stave off the cognitive and physical deterioration that comes with it. It is suggested that we must work at it through diet, exercise, moderation in regard to the dangerous things we imbibe and ingest and of course anything that keeps or minds working.

Obvious?

Yes but, as I just said .... remember? It was just two sentences above - "we must work at it". This, in the context of social media and blogging is to make an effort to write well constructed, relevant and interesting posts. If for any reason to do with health, tiredness, ennui or outright laziness this is beyond you -

“You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!”

 - Baudelaire/Eliot

- then well considered and clever comments will suffice. 

Not this:

I'll have to leave it there. Time is getting on and I have a Thai green curry chicken to cook for my dinner.

** As much as I hate to admit it there are only two regular readers and contributors to this blog so I cannot afford to alienate them even if 'leading readers' is a bit of a stretch.  'Bleeding needies' would actually be more appropriate.

D'YOU DIG THIS?

I've just been watching Coast New Zealand on TV One On Demand.

This is an excellent documentary series (the second one) on coastal history and living in New Zealand. It's a spin-off from a multi-series Scottish documentary using the same presenter and I assume some of the original producers, directors, writers and technical people. The quality is amazing and it is well worth watching.

In tonight's episode there was a segment on archeological digs on Greater Mercury Island off the Coromandel Peninsular (the island privately owned by one of New Zealand's greater rip-off merchants). The digs were an exploration of Maori agricultural practices over the last millennium and involved using deep digging tools to bring up soil samples that dated back over a thousand years.

Now while this isn't intrinsically interesting per se it had a sort of resonance for me.
In the 1970's while I was at Victoria University one of the most important pursuits I and my friends had was the pursuit of young women, "Getting the sex" as lyrically-challenged Richard (of RBB) used to say. Needless to say "Getting the sex" didn't come easily to repressed ex-Catholic school young men so we would jump at any opportunity no matter how spurious.

The occasion that Coast New Zealand reminded me of was when one of our band, I can't remember who but it was probably Tony who knew a weird lot of people at Victoria University, excitedly told us on our Friday night's libation at The Grand Hotel in Willis Street that he had signed us up for a Sunday jaunt with the Victoria University Archeological Society. After lots of groans, protests and physical assaults on his person he said that there might be women on the jaunt. Women! "Getting the sex" Richard expostulated at which we had to hush him as there were lots of other randy and unfulfilled students in the pub - we had to keep this intel to ourselves.

On the Sunday morning  we loaded up in my Hillman or Tony's Humber - I can't remember which, and headed off to the rendezvous point in Wainuiomata halfway down the coast road to Cape Palliser.
Now I can't remember who was in the car but there was definitely Tony, me, Noel, Mike and one other. I'm not sure if it was Richard (of RBB) as in these circumstances we would normally have skived off leaving him behind but he might well have caught us and latched on. Maybe he can tell us as he has a better memory than I have.

At the rendezvous point there was a busload of Victoria University Archeological Society members all kitted out and ready to go. I remember this at least - quickly checking out the group for eligible females. There were a lot of hairy blokes (and hairy legged females) but there weren't a lot of what we Catholic boys would have said were Mary Magdalene types. After all assembled though I noticed that there were a couple of nice looking young women of the type that I was used to admiring from afar so it wasn't too bad.

We were ready to go, preening ourselves and looking debonair ......


..... until the leader of Victoria University Archeological Society handed out equipment to us. It seemed that Tony's explanation of our involvement whilst cadging free drinks from us in the pub on the Friday night was a bit lacking in specifics. We were there as it turned out to hump (not the women) but all the bloody heavy equipment - spades, picks, shovels and weird digging tools.

The digging tools were exactly as I saw tonight on Coast New Zealand being a sharp and narrow spade with telescopic additions so as to dig out core samples of earth. Bloody heavy and very awkward to carry. As good strong lads though we did what was necessary - we loaded up Noel with as much stuff as we could make him carry. Noel was and I assume still is a bit of a short-arse but with about 3 hundredweight of kit on his back he was virtually scraping the ground.

We headed off up hill - UPHILL! - over rugged farm land and every now the leader of Victoria University Archeological Society would call a halt and we would have to assemble the gear and dig holes. We did this on numerous occasions and dug out lots of incredibly interesting and historically important core samples dirt which theVictoria University Archeological Society nutters fussed over and stored away in packs.

After hours of plodding we went up over the hills and down the other side to the beaches where the Wahini survivors (and victims) washed up. There was evidence of terraces which apparently were Maori gardens from several hundred years ago which could have been interesting but by this time we were knackered - especially Noel-  so we just flopped down and sunbathed on the cold and Southerly exposed beach. Kind of like a UK Summer holiday.

It was quite evident that the couple of delectable women were already involved with some of the hairy nutters so that was a no go. Tony had the good sense to keep away from the rest of us at this stage detecting the dark looks we were giving hime and also noticing the big rocks and throwing stones we were gathering.

After lunch which I think that the nutters provided we headed back up over the hills to our vehicles and made our way home. Another failure at picking up women or "Getting the sex" but in a funny way another nice memory of our youth to have. It's funny too to think that Richard (of RBB) doesn't live far from there nowadays. I wonder if he is still looking for Maori gardens? Nah, he's still trying to "Get the sex" probably.

THE POPE HAS BEEN EXPOSED AS A MUSLIM FUNDAMENTALIST*

 * OK, did  I catch your interest?

Good.

Here's a new post.

Okay, I'll explain those chords here, just for you Robert. 7th chords are made up from root (1), 3, 5, 7 of their particular scale. The 3 most common are major 7th, minor 7th and dominant 7th. In C major these would be... Dm7 - DFAC G7 - GBDF Cmaj7 - CEGB. Dm7 - G7 - Cmaj7 is really a perfect cadence but in jazz it is called a II V7 I progression. The 5th in each chord (unless it is altered to #5 or b5) is the least interesting note and the root is not really an interesting choice because the bass usually has it covered. The leave the two most colorful notes - 3 and 7. These can be used to play 2 note chords (double stops on the violin) that give nice jazzy colours. Try playing these 3,7 chords over Dm7 G7 Cmaj7. There are 2 voicings for these chords - you could play C above F, B above F, B above E OR F above C, F above B, E above B. You should transpose these to all keys. If you are improvising over a jazz tune, you can drop in these 2 note chords to make you sound jazzy.

Oops, no, not that. That's Richard from Richard's Bass Bag wittering on about something. I mean to write a golf post which will be slightly less boring.

I played golf this morning - 9 holes.

I played the best golf round that I've had for some time. I ended up 3 shots over par without any 'cheating'.

What I mean is that normally I just play on my own and, if I play a crook shot I hit another ball as the score isn't important. I'm just trying to play some good strokes.

Today I started off by getting a par 3 on the first hole. On the second, after some nore good shots I got a par 4. I got a par 4 on the third hole and thought 'this is good" so took it seriously.*

Golf is a funny sport. Often, using a lot of power on a tee shot doesn't work - or at least not for me. Just gently swinging the club nice and evenly can send the ball further, and straighter, than really bashing it. That's why tiny players like Lydia Ko can play so well.

I got another par 4 on the fourth hole, a par three on the fifth and then just missed getting a par 4 on the sixth. One over the card after 6 holes.

I got a par 4 on the seventh hole and a par 5 on the eighth which is a long and difficult hole. I was most pleased. I 'blew up' on the last hole though. I teed off well on the ninth but 'skyed' the ball with a fairway wood on my second shot. This left me well short of the green. My wedge shot ended up just to the left of the green meaning that the next chip on was my fourth. It took two putts to end up with a six - two over par.  Three shots over for the 9 hole round which is extremely good for a hacker like me.

Are you OK with that or do you want to hear some more about 7th chords?

* This didn't stop me checking out the creek alongside the fourth hole though where I found 13 good golf balls (there had been a tournament yesterday). I banged my head on a tree branch though which has made my head bleed - a fact that didn't go unnoticed by The Old Girl who immediately on seeing it accused me of searching for golf balls. I said that a magpie attacked me as I was in the centre of a fairway but she didn't believe me.

ROAD TRIPS

I drove down to Auckland yesterday and returned today. This is the second trip that the 'new' car has had from Auckland to Whangarei and performed very well.

No bits fell off.

This car must have been made on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday.
Don't buy a car made on a Monday or a Friday.

I'm sure there were supposed to be four wheels

I worked a summer season at Todd Motors in Petone in 1970/71 as a holiday job before starting university. I was in the checking and testing department at the end of the line. We used to do wheel testing, drive testing, headlight testing and water tightness testing along with some other checks.

Most cars passed except for a few where wheels fell off due to no wheel nuts being put on. Cars leaked water because a Hillman Avenger door was jammed into a Hillman Hunter doorframe. Headlight checks failed because the headlight fittings from Chryslers were jammed into the set up for Hillmans. Brakes failed because no brake linings were fitted etc. These were just the 'superficial' checks. I hate to think what might have been wrong with engines and transmission systems.

I found that most of the problems happened on Mondays and Fridays. I know, I've heard that this is an apocryphal story but in my case I know it to be true. As a checker I used to have to go back down the line to point out the mistake to the person who had made it - usually a gigantic  man*.
On Mondays said gigantic man, if found was nursing a massive hangover from the weekend just gone. On Fridays said gigantic  man was never to be found having taken the day off for a long weekend and had a friend clock him in and cover his duties. Once the guy I was looking for was actually there and when I asked questions he ran away. He ran away! From me, a skinny (then) 18 y.o. and him at least 6 foot five!

*********************

My trip back was uneventful but on the way down I was nearly wiped out twice. It really is getting too dangerous to drive nowadays, especially in Northland.

On a 100 kph stretch just south of Whangarei there is an intersection on the right which has been the scene of lots of fatalities. I saw about five cars lined up trying to turn right on to State Highway One and the lead car was getting a bit 'antsy'. I always try to anticipate problems when driving and sure enough, this turkey pulled out and turned right in front of me. I was travelling at 100 kph. I had already planned to brake in case this happened and did so with the car braking well and in a straight line de-accellerating from 100 kph to about 40 kph to avoid ramming the stupid fucker.

The cars travelling in the opposite direction were also travelling at 100 kph and the lead one, maybe braking, jinked to the left and missed the stupid cunt by a whisker. If he had even just nicked him I would have been involved in a multi-car pile up. The stupid christian (I ran out of increasingly virulent descriptions) took off and because the car behind me undertook me on the left I was unable to get his number-plate. He proceeded to overtake other cars on the 100 kph stretch and was well away.

The second time was between Wellsford and Warkworth on an uphill passing lane. I was passing some slow traffic and was behind another car in my lane. Behind me was an impatient fucker who was right on my bumper. As I completed the passing manouvre the passing lane had run out but, instead of tucking in behind me 'Mr Speedy' chose to continue to overtake me forcing me dangerously left. I gave him the finger and the cunt waved to me in the rear vision mirror. If this was middle america and I was driving a behemoth utility truck with bumper bars I would have sped up and  nudged him off the road ( too much reading of Jack Reacher books I know.) This idiot performed another few stupid overtaking moves and was soon well ahead. I thought I wouldn't see him again.

I was wrong. After the twin tunnels south of Puhoi I noticed the same black car at the side of the motorway. He had been pulled over by a plain police car. Justice done!

* This was in the early days of manufacturing using imported Polynesian labour - in Wellington it was Cook Islanders and Samoans. There was little in the way of language education  and skills training and the unions were strong and the employers were comparatively weak. It didn't stop them making as many cost cuts (including wages) as they could get away with though.

I'M GETTING TOO OLD FOR THIS WORLD

So should I be put down?
Or should I just disappear like a dinosaur?

Why has life become so bloody complicated?

OK, I know that the world's population has more than doubled since I was a whippersnapper but the premise that I was sold on, as a whippersnapper, was that life would be easier with the looming technological advancements.

Not so I've discovered. The computer age hasn't made things easier. Maybe it would have if things had developed differently and we were all brave enough to embrace the developments but unfortunately conservatism and corporate greed has kiboshed it for us.

A computer - whether it's a bloody big IBM  monolith or a Samsung or Apple smart phone, long after the initial financial investment and subsequent (obscene) profit-taking should be now cheap as chips.
Unfortunately they're not and if they appear so it's because they're tied into a bundling deal by those new-to-the-scene telecommunication companies who, like hyenas, rip the flesh off the downed consumer.

After we've spent our hard-earned cash or, as is more likely, committed to an onerous delayed payment deal or a hyena's bundling deal we think that we're ready to 'make our lives easier'.

Good luck to that I say.

I'm in the middle of a bit of a hectic 6 week activity. I'm buying and selling an apartment. I'm negotiating on-going involvement with an employer and I'm planning a move to another country.

Easy?

Well it should be if:

1. It involved face-to-face discussion with the principal parties or,
2. It could all be done via e-mails, websites, and generally the Internet.

Sadly no.

I think that I've sorted out the banking side of things. The 'easy-to-use' on-line mortgage application applications as advocated by my bank are a crock of shit. The problem is, that my bank has chosen to go the people-free on-line route so getting to talk to an 'English is my first language' person proved difficult. We danced around for a week via a combination of on-line communications that had to be resolved by telephone and finally face-to-face discussions to get what was a very simple arrangement finalised. The exercise which should have taken two days at most ended up taking 6 days,

The company thing is sorted.

Now I'm working on trying to get into another country. This country cost the lives of my two great-uncles on both sides of the family in European conflicts in WW1 and  to my father and three uncles being seriously injured in WW2.  Did this give me any 'brownie points'? No.

The UK Visa application process is diabolical. Removing the responsibility for processing visa applications from British embassies and high legations around the world and creating an on-line application business is for what reason exactly? To give the ambassadors and high commissioners more time for golf? To free up staff time for more important business like keeping their blogs up to date and making cupcakes for visiting dignitaries? No.

I think that it's designed to make the application process so bloody difficult that people give up (the guy I had a meeting with today said that he'd tried to work in the UK but it was just too hard to get in that he came to New Zealand instead). As well as deterring people with little or no English-language skills and reasonable intelligence I think the machine is designed to drive applicants to using consultancy firms who charge thousands of pounds to process applications. I reckon that the UK Govt. is getting some of that.

I've taken the on-line process as far as I can. I've paid the $700 compulsory application fee and put together my documents for posting. I've taken all the documents out to the NZ Immigration office in the back of beyond in Auckland, presented them for checking and stamping, getting photographed, having my signature recorded and my fingerprints taken. Are they satisfied? Has the application process finished? No Way.

I now have to package up the original documents plus copies including my current passport and my old one (lucky I kept it) and post it to a British Embassy post box in Auckland. Apparently it then gets sent to Manilla for processing. Manilla. In the bloody Philippines! Haven't they heard about Wellington in New Zealand or are we so personna non gratta that it's not an option.

So. The on-line miracle starts to break down. I spent 3 hours on-line processing the application but still had to drive to the 'back of beyond in Auckland' to have the application checked and stamped and then post it to bloody Manilla. To make things worse the application rules inform me that a registration for UK Health Services has to be done before the application can be posted. I've tried to process this about a dozen times in the last two days but the system is down. It won't accept my registration or payment. There is no person to talk to.

Give me the good old admin days anytime.

It mightn't have been very efficient but at least it was reliable.

GETTING ON

We live and we die. That's the natural order of things.

It is, of course bad news when dying inevitably happens.We leave or are left behind by friends, loved ones and acquaintances who 'take' a bit of ourselves away. We all experience it although some experience it at a closer and deeper level than others.

Robert, in his latest post THOSE OF US WHO ARE LEFT recounts from both personal experience and the intimacies shared from conversing with others who have cared for and lost loved ones. This is well crafted and has a visceral and raw honesty element that goes beyond any trite observations and maudlin sentimentality. He writes about: feelings of guilt that we have at 'not doing more' (even when going beyond what would normally be required); of how onerous and tiring caregiving can be; of feelings of helplessness and uncertainty; but mostly of regret, emptiness and loneliness.

• We are the survivors. We went through the trauma of watching a loved one die. Some of us have done this twice. Maybe a son died then a husband. Maybe a wife then a daughter. 
• Caregiving became our world. Often we had no idea what to do or what the future held. We learnt as we went. Sometimes learning to do things others would think unimaginable.
• Eventually the end came. Mostly it was unexpected. Sooner than we expected. Sometimes it was inevitable, obvious.
• Like veterans we only speak of it among ourselves. We have a special bond , those that are left. We understand the flashbacks. The sudden spasm of tears. 
• The irony is that we would all do it again. Would it be easier a second time? I don't think so. But we would.

Powerful stuff that. That's bravery.

Me? I'd want to run away, to hide, to wait until it was all over but .... I know I wouldn't. We all have to 'get on' and do what's right and hopefully for the best.

Lynn was up most of the night having had an early morning call from a good friend, who lives in Scotland whose mother died last night. He had been caregiver for the last several years after she had a stroke. This followed on from losing his wife in 2015 (we attended the funeral in Glasgow). He put his career on hold while nursing his wife (they returned to Scotland from New Zealand in 2015 essentially for her to die amongst family) and later his mother and now he's at an age where it will be difficult and near impossible to pick up where he left off. Having sold up in Auckland 10 years ago and living on proceeds from the sale and other savings he won't be able to afford to return. He's one of those who are left. Lynn, through the night texted and emailed friends and contacts, arranged flowers and condolences and remotely held his hand.

Here's a post I wrote many years ago.

'GETTING ON'

 

BUSY BUSY BUSY

 I'm busy.

I've got things to do. You know. Stuff.

I'm not used to being busy. I am used to stuff. The Old Girl's forever telling me about stuff:

"Can you please move your stuff."

"Whats all that stuff? It must be yours because I know it's not mine."

"Fuck! The shed's full of your old stuff."

"Get stuffed!"

Richard rang today. Well, I'd better rephrase that. Richard sort of rang me today. I had two unanswered calls from him on my cellphone which I noticed when coming back into the house after DOING STUFF. I called him back and he'd forgotten that he'd rung me. On prompting he kind of remembered but insisted that he'd only rung once. I let that go because, well, you know, (he's getting on a bit). That comment in brackets was the typing version of sotto voce which I just realised is a complete waste of time given that the readers of this blog, unless by a miracle that Tony reads, didn't attend 3P classes at college and have no idea what bloody sotto voce means. I mean, I might as well bloody shout it out - RICHARD'S GETTING OLD AND FORGETFUL!

So (sorry about that), I asked Richard what he'd rung about and, after a long while he remembered that he wanted to know what date my upcoming birthday is. When I told him he said "I knew that." I don't know if he heard my "Sheesh" or not but I had to cut the call short because, now you know, I had stuff to do. I had to get on with it.

The outside stuff had been done by this time: completion of cleaning the brickwork on the drive using strong (and dangerous chlorine products, best to be done while The Old Girl is away); mowing the lawn; ripping out some weeds (the more obvious ones that The Old Girl will notice their removal on her return on Saturday); putting more rubbish in the trailer for future trip to the tip.

The indoors stuff was pending: listening to National Radio with an intro of Nina Simone's Strange Fruit; catching up on the 2022 Commonwealth Games* coverage and watching live women's cricket with New Zealand beating Sri Lanka; preparing tonight's dinner of basil chilli chicken; sampling a few glasses of Stoneleigh rose. The  housework can wait until Friday.

Sorry: not the 2022 Commonwealth Games but a pic of me bowling the winning shot at a tournament in the early 1990s

* Hasn't this been a wonderful games event no matter what scathing comments Robert makes about it? Well done the New Zealand team. You young people (and the lawn bowlers) are stars.

THE DEMISE OF ON-LINE BUYING?

On-line buying has grown exponentially over the last few years with virtual shops advertising just about everything along with mega on-line sites like Amazon, Ebay, Walmart, Target, Trade Me etc dominating retail spending.

Most of these have got their systems right with very good interactive ordering sites but there are a lot of wannabes who are trying to get in on the act but without proper support systems.

Most of, if not all of the on-line retailers work on the principle of J.I.T (just in time) delivery. They advertise products as being available, take orders and immediate payments and then place the order with their supplier (and no doubt get extended credit for bulk purchasing) with the product being delivered (often from the bulk supplier) to the consumer who has ordered and paid. This system can work as long as there is no disruption to the supply line.

Guess what?

There is major disruption to the supply line now due to coronavirus and Covid-19. Most of the goods sold on-line originate from China, South Korea, Taiwan, Vietnam, Malaysia and other countries where Covid-19 scares are locking down borders and shipping channels. Ships are not leaving on time or at all and goods are being delayed.
With major, reliable companies the result will be that J.I.T. will be L.W.L. (later with luck). With smaller and less reliable companies that never were good at J.I.T. the new system will probably be K.Y.M.G. (kiss your money goodbye).

I have recently started ordering things on-line for convenience even though I have had two instances of being scammed and having my credit card account hacked. See: HERE   and  HERE
We've sorted things out with BNZ and fortunately haven't had any further problems although I'm cautious about which sites to use.

At present I have three pending on-line orders that I'm waiting on.

The first is a small and reliable shipper from which we purchase Barry's teabags. These come from the UK and are not available in shops in New Zealand. I ordered about 3 weeks ago and hadn't heard from them. Two days ago I emailed the company asking where our order is. To give them credit I received a phone call from someone in the company explaining that the container had been held up and it will be another 3 weeks before delivery. Disappointing but understandable.



The second is a supplier of ant-bacterial products named  Zoono.

I read a financial report on how Zoono shares have gone ballistic as the Zoono products are so good. I looked on-line and ordered a small amount. Delivery was assured as being 2 to 3 days. As this hadn't arrive within 2 weeks I contacted them and received this standard form response.

Hi there,
Thanks for your enquiry.
We apologise for the delay in getting your orders to you. The unforeseen outbreak of Coronavirus has resulted in significant demand for our advanced antimicrobial technology. We appreciate your patience while we increase production and resources.
Unfortunately, we’re unable to respond to all your emails so please refer to the below commonly asked questions:
· When can I expect my order (orders via zoono.com)?
· We expect to despatch your items within 15 business days after confirmation/placing your order.
For more information - please refer to our FAQ's on the wesbite. (sic)

15 more days! This isn't good enough. They banked my money pretty damned quickly and should be offering some kind of rebate.



The third is a supplier that I thought was reliable and now discover that they are a pack of arseholes.

I ordered an iPhone 8 from Dick Smith's after doing a lot of research on the product, prices and suppliers. Unfortunately I didn't do a search on 'Dick Smith Customer Service' If I had I would have discovered, on three different consumer watch sites that Dick Smith's and its owner Kogan have just about the lowest reliability rating there is. The star system runs from 1 star to 5 stars and Dick Smith's 1 star rating is over 40%. There is no 0 star rating otherwise over 40% would have been zero instead.
All of the 1 star reviews tell consumers not to buy from Dick Smith's and Kogan and that, as I've discovered. it's near impossible to contact anyone at the company as they hide behind a very complicated website and 'customer service' pages.

I placed the order in mid February expecting delivery within a few days. My order was processed and the payment ($630) immediately taken but no phone was delivered. An unwanted Kogan Mobile Prepay: EXTRA LARGE (30 Days 32GB) plan voucher was delivered - no use to me as I use Spark - but no phone. Battling with the web ordering system I found that the delivery was going to take place AFTER 10 March. Well, 10 March has gone so I tried to contact one of the ghosts at Dick Smith's and, buried in the shipment details was a small alert saying delivery would now take place AFTER 14 April. WTF? This is 2 months after I ordered and paid for the bloody thing.

I've read many of the complaints on the consumer websites (and posted one myself). Most are very recent and some the same timing as my order and delivery issues. All talk about the impossibility of being able to email or telephone a customer services person at this company.
Worryingly some talk about how they thought that Dick Smith's and Kogan were Australian companies and are concerned that all activity seems to be based in China with all products being Chinese models with compatibility issues.

Interestingly enough, when reading through the complaint posts, after a whole lot of 1 star reviews would be a block of about a dozen 4 and 5 star reviews. These are all posted on the same day by people using just their Christian names and glowingly praising Dick Smith's, the products and the service, These ere obviously written by a Dick Smith's employee. The fucking hubris of it is astounding.

*******************

My experience is of just three recent on-line purchases. I have no doubt that the problems are representative of a world-wide problem that is going to get worse. I believe that people will (eventually) become risk averse and maybe stop or certainly reduce the amount of on-line buying that they do. If this happens then it may help to reverse the trend from real retail to virtual retail and we may see the resurgence of smaller shops where what you see is what you get - before you pay.

I'm certainly looking forward to that.

THE CAT CAME BACK

Willow went to the vets on Monday for an op on her teeth.

I recently took her in for blood tests and a check-up as I was concerned she might have an overactive thyroid. The tests showed her thyroid activity to be high but within normal levels.
They also showed that she has possible renal problems for which I've put her on a special diet.

Her teeth needed descaling and there was the possibility of having one removed. Apparently bad teeth can contribute to renal failure so I arranged for her to be operated on. Having been away for a couple of years with her being looked after by others has had an effect (I used to brush her teeth occasionally with a special cat tooth brush).
I was worried about this as she is getting on (16+) and the op requires full anaesthesia.
The vet put her on IV fluids on Monday night, knocked her out and checked her teeth on Tuesday and kept her in again on Tuesday night fur further IV fluids and monitoring.
I collected her this morning and she is OK. No teeth were extracted as they were successfully descaled for which I am most relieved. Blood tests show that her renal functions are now down to the high side of normal so the diet is working.

She's back home now investigating the house and garden and occasionally coming up to me and meowing loudly - I'm not sure what she's trying to tell me, probably complaining about the last couple of days. She has a shaven chest where the blood samples were taken and a shaven paw where the IV was inserted but otherwise looks the same. I notice that she isn't rubbing her face against the corners of boxes so the descaling has obviously made her more comfortable.

WHAT'S THE TIME?

 Today we put the clocks back an hour because of the end of 'Summer Time' or as we call it in New Zealand 'Daylight Saving'.

I slept in and awoke to what should have been 7.45 but, with the change to the clocks was officially 6.45. That was good, I had 'more hours in the day' to do all my important stuff.

Here's the official ruling on daylight saving:

All good but, unfortunately, after nearly 100 years of daylight saving in New Zealand some old codgers and, to be fair, most younger people still get a bit confused about this.

See what two of the old codgers wrote today on their blogs:

Richard from Richard's Bass Bag

Robert from Robert the apologetic toilet cleaner (he must miss bits)

It's hard to decide whether to laugh or cry but then I adopt the Labour Government mantra and  'be kind' because, after all, these guys are getting on a bit.

The big problem though is that after many, many, many years of daylight saving which HAPPENS EVERY BLOODY YEAR! (sheesh) there is still a big percentage of the country (from all ages) who can't work it out.

The younger ones, who are as confused as any, have the advantage of living on their phones, computers and iPads and other SMART devices which automatically roll over to the new time setting so they can very soon get themselves organised. The old fuckers sorry codgers sorry people who rely on the time from their old wind up watches, the microwave, the car, or that old mantle clock are basically fucked. No doubt Richard and Robert will get themselves sorted by say, Easter, but they will have missed out on many important appointments ... other people will have missed out on meeting them in important business and social arrangements ...  on second thoughts good luck to them.

This does raise the question of the importance of this institution though. Just recently USA has decided to dump it.

I think that it's time for us to get rid of it and decide on a year round standard time.

Hey! What do you think? Obviously I'm asking that question of new and other readers of this blog as Richard and Robert are still trying to find their underpants to get dressed in their disoriented state.

FRIDAY NIGHT MUSING'

We just arrived back home after a week in Auckland. Man its good to be home.
My new assistant started this week so its been an induction week. She's smart and enthusiastic so no problems there. As well as the training I was able to knock off a couple of projects - which makes me think - I wouldn't have been able to do these if she hadn't been there. Things are looking up.

The drive back was OK but, with darkness setting in now as it gets close to winter the drive is a bit more arduous. I must ensure that I thoroughly clean the windscreen inside and out before setting off next time as the glare from oncoming headlights is a pain. I think that when I cut back to 3 days a week (should have been next week but the owner is off overseas so I will delay that until June) I will drive up early on Friday mornings and back on Monday afternoons while there is light.



I think I got a speed camera speeding ticket on the way up. Not much over as nowadays I drive relatively sedately but it was about 110.

Making home made fish 'n' chips for tea. Stopped at the supermarket and bought Terakahi and Agria potatoes ( the absolute best potatoes).

Arriving home we found that the friends who stayed here during the week had luck fishing and left fresh snapper fillets in the fridge for us (and a bowl full for the cat). It will be a fish weekend. Yum!

Took 4 bottles of frozen wine out of the freezer - well part bottles). One is a Waipara Pinot Noir - that will do for tomorrow. One is a Thornbury Pinot Noir - that will do for the Old Girl. The Goldridge Chardonnay and Thorbnury Chardonnay will do for me. I microwaved them and then mixed them together. Yummy!

My UK comedy programmes are on tonight. I like those. The offerings change all the time bit I think Peep Show is on and the weird and wonderful Jinzy. The Inbetweeners is also on but The Old Girl is watching that diabolically crappy Americon Idol programme so I don't get a look in. We don't have SKY in Auckland so don't get UK TV there. Tomorrow is the Come Dine with Me Omnibus - OK, I know, but we like it OK. Just the thing for Autumn Saturday mornings. We will walk later and I will kayak. The Old Girl will swim but I'm too much of a wuss to do that.

Good to see that old guy at Nuova Lazio is enjoying his music. He' s a bit obsessive though, worrying about grey hairs and all and whether French or German is best. I don't know what he's on about but we kind of nod and send him a comment or two so he doesn't feel neglected.  His younger brother (man just about everyone is younger than this old codger) has gone a bit weird again, writing poetry and stuff. It is interesting, a bit in the vein of McGonnigal. He must be getting on a bit too because now he is reminiscing about his university days. Apparently he used to walk around the corridors on hands and knees and had venetian blinds at the back of his pants. Don't ask me. I'd say check out his blog - Second Fiddle - but I think that the Google Police erase it frequently.

Check out TSB's blog (I'm too lazy to give you a link). In true form he is now obsessing about computer keyboards and apparently fantasising that they are young women's bodies or at least the upper parts of them. It gives 'key-strokes' a whole new meaning.

The Cherry 2000 model - 'Lt you fingers do the walking"

The Old Girl is calling that tea is ready (she actually said 'dinner') so must dash.
I'll put pictures in later.

Bye for now.

Back again. Dinner (tea) was great. Here are some pics.

LONELY PLANET GUIDE TO NUOVA LAZIO UPDATE

My editor got all excited the other day about the new report for the world's leading country which highlighted the world's most beautiful toilets, the most beautiful women and the most handsome men.
She re-read my June 2010 Nuova Lazio travel guide report and asked requested ordered me to go back to Nuova Lazio to update the report.

See :

LONELY PLANET GUIDE TO NUOVA LAZIO

It's been nealy six years since my beloved and I made the trip there to confirm flattering reports made by someone named Richard (of RBB). The truth was somewhat of a shock which many visits to counsellors, therapists and EST sessions have almost remedied.

My beloved said to me:

"Not on your life Matey. I'd rather go up the bloody Amazon on a rubber tyre than do that trip again"

I took that as a no so I packed my bag and went alone making sure that I'd only take something that I wouldn't miss when Nuova Lazio Airlines lost my bag, and, if they didn't lose it then something I could easily carry whilst running.











Being an experienced traveller was of no assistance to my first trip to Nuova Lazio but this time I was prepared for the worst. I found my late father's war memorabilia and dug out his old tropical outfit which included mosquito nets, mercaptran tablets, elephant gun, reinforced underpants and haemorrhoid cream. I was ready.




The flight, arrival and transfer were not much better than the first time except that I avoided the offer of 'public' transport or indeed any form of transport (my memory of Rueben was still unsettling) and hiked my way over the gorse covered hills to the hidden valley beyond.

Time seemed to go backwards.

The editor said to look out for the Beautiful Toilets that may exist so, as I needed to go after the long trek that was my first port of call.

The first (and only) one I found was to be had in the centre of the (in)famous Nuova Lazio mall.

Not wanting to be too scathing I looked for favourable descriptions for my update.

"Fresh, open air ambiance"
"Automatic cleaning" - (it rains a lot in Nuova Lazio)
"Unisex"
"Handicap friendly" (although the guy with the crutches seemed to be having some difficulty).

Doing my business quickly and getting away I thought to myself that the lack of walls and a roof did in fact make me feel safer than being inside in this town.

I proceeded to the other items on the check list that the editor gave me.

 Beautiful Women

I hadn't seen any in the 'beautiful toilets' if indeed any of the users were actually women so I decided to wander around the mall.
I noticed that the cleaner cum security person who had been on duty here on my first visit was no longer working. As a consequence the mall seemed tidier and a lot safer. "Thank that mythical place that Christians believe in for small mercies" I thought.

After looking for and at some members of the fairer sex and receiving some worrying 'come-ons'
I discovered these two.

To be honest they were the best examples and time was getting on so I photographed and logged the image.

Due to my earlier experience I'd been careful to make my plans not to stay over in Nuova Lazio or dine there so knew I had to hike out pretty soon to catch my exit flight.

I still had to find an example of the Handsome Man that the main report in the Guide had highlighted.
I had just about given up when fortunately I was struck on the back of the head and fell to the ground.

"giz us ya wallet" said a crazed and drunken neanderthal.

As I fumbled to toss some travellers cheques towards him I took the opportunity to take a snapshot of him with my phone while he wasn't looking too closely. His eyes were glazed over so I guess that's why he didn't realise I had a cell-phone but I stuck it down the front of my trosers just in case.

"This'll have to do" I thought and took off over the hills and away, never to return.

CATHOLICS LOOK AWAY NOW - From Uncylopedia

Dogma

This article contains unquestionable divine truths.

Dogma is one of the best kept secrets of the Catholic Church. In order to get to Catholic Heaven (which beats Hindu Heaven hands down, but loses by a smidgin' to Mormon Heaven, and according to The Simpson is way funnier, less judgmental, and more drunker than Protestant Heaven) you must believe in dogma.

Here, in a nutshell, is the essence of Catholic dogma:

1. You must worship the cross.
2. Sex is bad and should make you feel guilty. Except when it's with kids, of course.
3. Money is bad and should make you feel guilty.
4. Altar boys are bad even though they make you feel good.

These two dogmas are the entire essence of the Catholic Church's teachings, and explains their position on everything from sex (it costs money) and abortion (it's from sex), and why you should put money in those little baskets they throw at you during Mass.

From this dogma, the Catholic Church has the Catholic Catechism:

• Pleasure is bad and should make you feel guilty.
• Food is bad and should make you feel guilty.
• Being born is bad (called original sin) and should make you feel guilty.
• Eating meat on Friday is bad and should make you feel guilty.
• Sleeping in, especially on Sundays when you don't have to go to work, is very bad and should MUST make you feel guilty.
• The Catholic Church is good and should make you feel happy.
• The Pope is very good and should MUST make you feel happy.

Modern theologians are in full agreement that if St. Paul had gotten laid, even by that Mary Magdalene chick, the Church today would be very different. And a lot more fun.

Karma

Catholics don't believe in karma. They believe, instead, that someone is watching to see if they are good or bad, making a list, and checking it twice. O.K., call it "instant karma", instead. Every December.

Wilma

Catholics are afraid of Wilma Flintstone: To them she is the Red-headed Whorebeast of the Apocalypse who shall slay all those who don't partake of her chewable vitamins. Some of her symbols (weird hair, stupid consort, pearl necklace) can be traced to the modern-day wiccan, Marge Simpson.

Mortal sins

Catholics believe that if you die with a "mortal sin" on your soul, you go straight to Hell.

• Playing with your food
• Playing with your self
• Feeding yourself
• Playing with the person next to you
• Feeding the person next to yourself in a playful manner
• Just playing in general
• Not cleansing yourself after you do the "Bad Touch"
• Wearing a condom, especially in Africa
• Failure to donate your money to the church, you selfish asshole
• Making sex
• Making sex for money
• Kitten Huffing^{[citation needed]}
• Adoption
• Getting a divorce from your obese, violent, faithless, lazy waste of a spouse without a fucking permission slip signed by the Pope
• Getting a divorce with a permission slip signed by the Pope^{[Citation not needed at all; thank you very much]}
• Eating pizza and drinking milk at the same time
• Smoking weed on the Sabbath
• Not smoking weed on the Sabbath
• Listening to a woman in church
• Using your driver in the middle of the Fairway
• Using your wood in the middle of a whore
• Putting your elbows on the table
• Tossing the Holy Hand Grenade on a count other than three
• Reading this article
• Denying that any of these is a mortal sin

The Catholic Church's position on sex is very firm. To sum it up in a quick easy-to-remember sentence: you will get sent to Hell if you have oral sex, anal sex, penis sex, vagina sex, phallis sex, vageena sex, premarital sex, sex with the steps in front of an altar, gay sex, finger sex, underwater sex, upside down sex, loud sex, sex with the lights on, sex on a pool table, protected sex, unprotected sex, semi-protected sex, or (AND MOST UNFORGIVABLY!) NAKED SEX. It's quite obvious that God prefers us never to have sex with anyone. Obviously, if he wanted us to procreate, he would just slap up some mudpies and make himself some more humans. Or, if he REALLY wanted children to be born, he would impregnate all the women himself, and thus, by this concise logic, it should be apparent that NO ONE should have sex EVER. Don't even try it.

There is only one unforgivable sin that, when you die, will send you straight to Hell – being a dick on Uncyclopedia. Burn, baby, burn!

Fortunately, private investors such as eDulgences are interested enough in your sins to absolve them for you!

Finally, remember, too much Catholicism can make you go blind.