Equal ops for children.

Taking Roxy for a walk yesterday, I stopped for a rest (Roxy's request - she refuses to go past a certain stretch of low wall until we have sat there for a few minutes). Sometimes, Roxy will hop up onto the wall to sit next to me. This time, however, she simply flopped to the ground (a sure sign I needed to get her home soonish) and basked in the warm sun.

As we sat there, a small group of schoolchildren came along with a couple of adults carefully shepherding them in the right direction. When they were encouraged to ask questions of random people, I realised they were on a field trip.

A couple questions later, it seemed they had fulfilled their quota, and were preparing to head up onto the pier. Before they did so, the teacher wanted to make sure her charges understood what they needed to do and what to look for.

At that, the teacher held her clipboard over her face to hide a smile, while the less restrained man at the back of the group wheeled away, doubling up in silent laughter.

My own laughter was not silent, and I felt moved to literally applaud the young boy for an apparently progressive attitude. The teacher, may or may not have been impressed, commented to me that, "in all the years I have done this and asked these questioned, not once have I had that answer."

Win.

BLASPHEMY!

Oh dear. This is going to be the post where we either lose lots of our audience or get a load more. Or both, which would be hilarious.

Well, you see, it all began with an innocuous conversation about one of Roxy's toys, a ball-and-rope combo that has proved to be very popular and highly entertaining for all three of us. Don't ask. It's a pull toy such as those pictured below (although Roxy's toy has two balls on it. Stop sniggering!).

Roxy gets the ball in her mouth - will you stop sniggering! - and we pull on the other end...

>sigh<

There's not going to be an easy way through this post, is there?

In any event, the talk turned to 'pope-on-a-rope', punny take on the original product.

'SOAP' on a rope. Literally.

Pope on a rope. NOT literally.

This is where things get a little sticky. Conversations with Julie tend to be a fairly silly and free-associating experience. We also tend to try a sort of one-upmanship in the game of silliness. Obviously, Julie normally wins.

BOOM! Julie knocks it out of the park!

Wow... I honestly couldn't stop laughing for five minutes. So very wrong, but so very funny.

And, as it turns out, not at all incorrect...

Vegetables and violence

I bet that one got your attention.

I like to eat. Too much, really. My problem isn't so much the food, but the quantity of it. Yeah, I eat crap. However, I also eat vegetables. There are only a few I cannot get on with at all; parsnips, avocado (yes, I know it's a fruit), and brussel sprouts are the most prominent ones.

Tuna salad - mmmmmm...

Julie, on the other hand, is a little more picky when it comes to greens - and whites, oranges and yellows etc. Some are a knee-jerk reflex, having never tried them. Others are a genuine dislike. Cabbage is definitely one of the Disliked.

On a recent visit to my mother, dinner was being prepared, and when we were asked what veg we wanted, I piped up with a joking suggestion.

...you win.

A right dog's dinner.

Out and about with Roxy, we have discovered that the most annoying thing for us is an excitable dog, one that is not on a lead ("Oh, he's ever so well behaved, and really friendly!").

Far too many people don't realise that while their dog may* well be a friendly dog, to have it dash up to you, a young child, or a nervous dog under your control can be a fraught situation.

Fortunately, while Roxy is a little naive about the outside world (after three years in a rescue centre, she's bound to be out of touch), she is also generally very friendly and very placid. However, since idiots abound, we are obliged to walk her in public with a muzzle.

Taking our new friend out for her evening walk one day, the three of us encountered wave after wave of hyperactive, noisy dogs, none of which could have been larger than a bowling ball. All of which apparently oscillated between 'happy-yappy' and 'Come on! I'll f***in' have ye!' with not a lot of changeover time.

Understandably, Roxy was more than a little unsettled by it all and tended to cling to us more than the most insecure of shower curtains. Most of the time. Finally driven to snapping point (literally), Roxy lunged for a very noisy toupee, only to be brought short by us; we'd been ready for this.

I was about to say something fairly regrettable, when Julie, having sensed my mood as well as Roxy's, beat me to it.

Win.

Teletlikeitis

In the car one day, we were waiting at a junction to a dual carriageway. Waiting and waiting; it's a busy stretch of road.
Just before the junction, on the dual carriageway itself, there is a pedestrian crossing, the type where you need to press a button for the lights to change.

Unfortunately for us, there was not a pedestrian in sight, and I starting hoping aloud for one to come and push that damn button so the lights would change and thereby allow us out.

Julie suggested I tried to do it by telepathy. I could have let it slide and accepted the sentiment, but I'm a picky bugger and I have a very strong didactic streak in me, so I took the opportunity to explain the correct term and the difference between the two.

Very quick, and - in my view - pretty much spot-on these days. Ironic, though, as I'm not the one that watches X Factor...

-----------------------------------------------------

ps: If you're wondering about the title, try saying aloud.

Distinctly different

I'm sat here, typing this out and a neighbour - a few houses away, actually - is noodling on his guitar. I would say 'playing', but it's jazz. In other words, a random mess.

I don't like jazz. Can you tell?

This is not to say, however, that my neighbour is a poor guitarist. Far from it. We have heard some lovely music, usually blues-based, coming from his house. Normally,  it's just noodling though. Practice.

One day, some time ago, we were sat in our front room, reading quietly. After a while, I realised I could hear our neighbour playing his guitar. Only just, though. He must have had his windows closed - or the breeze was blowing the wrong way, carrying the majority of the sound with it. As I said, it was a very soft noise, far from intrusive. In fact, when I commented to Julie that our neighbour had begun his guitar practice, she was surprised. In fact, even when I drew her attention to it, it still wasn't registering.

Zing!
Well, I lost that one. Not only was I confusing, Julie also managed to fit in a truly apposite pun. In the meantime, perhaps Julie could use these to boost her hearing...

Rodents with ratchets

The red squirrel is a lovely looking animal. Pity it's been pretty much comprehensively ousted by the grey squirrel. They're a voracious and clever beastie.

Unfortunately, my mother is more interested in attracting birds to her garden than squirrels. Over the years, both my parents spent a lot of time and money trying to get bird feeders to be squirrel proof.

Seriously. I mean, they have looked out the window a few times and seen a squirrel literally dragging an entire feeder across the lawn. That's when they can't break into them in situ, of course. There have been plastic domes over the feeders, thick wire cages - even grease on the poles supporting the feeders. Nothing has proved to be too much of an obstacle for the furry buggers.

One of the most recent - and effective - ploys has been a plastic tube with metal fixings that are really resistant to rodent teeth.

As you can see, it's a solid piece of kit. There is another fixing on the opposite side, and they're secured by a heavy-duty screw that is housed within the feeder itself. You can just see the Phillips head in the picture above.

I have just returned from a visit to my mum. After a six-hour journey, two hours more than it should have been, I was glad for a cuppa.
Stood in the kitchen, talking to Mum, I looked out of the window and saw that one of the feeders was almost empty. I commented on this and suddenly found myself in the middle of a righteous fury - aimed at the local squirrels.

Somehow - we have no real idea how - the squirrels have managed to dismantle the metal parts of the feeder and all the food poured out. Even worse, after a search, I could only find one of the metal fixtures - and no screw. Damned if I know what the squirrels are going to do with a single piece of bird feeder. Use it for lessons, perhaps?

Mum, in the meantime, was obsessing over how the squirrels had managed to break the feeder apart...

Perhaps, but I doubt we'll ever see a squirrel with a power drill...
In the meantime, here's a funny picture of a squirrel that appears to have been a little too hungry for its own good.

Rare Breed Week: Oh, those delicious noises...

Welcome back to the South of England Rare Breeds Centre (SERBC). Today, we are going to be going for a little stroll. The farm is really rather extensive, and stretches out for a fair distance beyond the immediate environs of the buildings.

There are a number of ways you can go exploring, and one of the most fun methods is via a tractor and trailer ride

The driver is a joker, but very conscientious and kept up an enjoyable, but not patronising patter. Oh, and you don't pay anything extra for this. The same goes for the bird of prey displays.

Alternatively, you could take a leisurely stroll around the property. Or, like us, you could have a ride and THEN go walkabout. There is a choice of three routes, varying in length, although even the longest will get you round in no more than an hour, unless you stop along the way for some reason or other.

While you walk, there are information points here and there. And, for the younger ones, there are some fun quiz signs to keep an eye out for, all based on pigs, of which SERBC has a few breeds.

Piglets: much cuter than their adult counterparts.

As we can be childish now and then, me and Julie decided to look for these quiz posts and answer them as 'well' as we could. This consisted of me reading the question out in a mock-posh BBC accent, and Julie replying as only she knows how...

Bwahahahahaha!
Nice one, love!

The Wedding banned

It's been about six and a half years since we were married. It was a lovely day, which was pleasant, considering the weekends either side of the one we booked were absolutely vile. Mind you there was one vile thing about our wedding day - my head. As the morning went on, my head grew progressively worse until I found myself trying to cope with a near-migraine level headache.

Toffed up, me and my best man got a taxi to the hotel where we got married, and began the process of meeting and greeting various friends and relatives. It was the first time I had met many of the younger ones, and I was pleased to note that they were a fairly well-behaved bunch. I'm not much for children at the best of times and I definitely didn't want any excitable kiddies that day.

Our home-made table centrepiece. Hedgehog, of course!

Apart from our tying the knot, we both agreed that the highlight of the ceremony was when my foster brother, who is severely disabled, acted up at precisely the point I had predicted.

Before the wedding, we had to drop by the registrar's office to discuss things. I was adamant that I wanted Jim to be there, so I was making sure that there would be no objections on the part of the officials. However, I did warn them that Jim has a broad sense of humour and, while unable to speak, he uses his laughs to communicate some things very well. And, being mischievous, he responded well to the question, "is there anyone who objects to these two being married.?"

Cue the snigger.

The registrar hadn't quite believed me when I warned her, so this snigger came as something of a surprise; I knew from our first meeting that, while efficient, she was also officious and patronising.

There was another incident concerning the registrar.
When we moved to discussing some of the finer details of our ceremony, the matter of restrictions was raised. Now, I had heard something about this. If you were to be married in a non-ecclesiastic manner, then the music played should have no religious references. This ban included Robbie Williams' hit 'Angels'.

I objected to this. Not so much for the banning of a Robbie tune (which I rather like, actually), but that there were restrictions being placed on our special day - one we were paying for. Nevertheless, argued the registrar, angels are a religious construct and therefore cannot be played at a civil ceremony.

Ridiculous.

The registrar went further; we were not allowed to choose any music that was inappropriate for such an occasion, and we would have to submit which songs/tunes we had in mind. Julie was also unimpressed.

I burst out laughing, but the registrar was none too happy, and gathered up her papers, saying, "well, I think that's all we need to discuss for today," before bidding us 'Good day' and leaving.

In the end, this was the music we chose for the ceremony. Approved, of course.

• Bride's entrance: 'Horizons' by Genesis
• Signing the documents: 'The Rose' by Bette Midler
• The couple leaves: 'Handbags & Gladrags' by Stereophonics (it's Our Song)

------------------------------------------

PS - apparently, the ban on ecclesiastical references in songs has since been lifted.

Julie's got it covered.

Now that the weather is finally beginning to warm up, there are a lot more things to see and do with your time off. On the one hand, it's great, because getting out and about means a lot more things around you. By the same token, however, that also means distractions when you're driving. Our dad was notorious for this, which was troubling when the road you were on happened to be little more than a track clinging to one side of a valley...

It does tend to provide a talking point though... hehehe...

Earlier today, Julie and myself were taking a drive through the Sussex countryside. With perfect timing, though, it began to rain at precisely the moment we walked out of the house. Just a few drops at first, but when we got into the car, the spots turned to a spattering, and as we drove away along the seafront, it turned heavier.

Well, crud.
It goes without saying, of course, that the latest weather report had it as being beautifully sunny all day.

I shouldn't moan, really. As we progressed, we passed one of those open-topped tour buses; astonishingly, there were still a couple of determined tourists staring forward defiantly from beneath soggy raincoats. Pillocks. You'd never catch us doing something as asinine as that (*coughs uncomfortably...).

Something else we saw was an open-topped kit car with a Q registration plate.

For persons not in the know, the letter 'Q' is generally not included on a UK car registration plate, as it's considered to be too similar to the number zero. However, for kits, rebuilds and vehicles of unsure origins, the Government whacks a 'Q' right there for everyone to see.

Julie wasn't too worried about that, though. For her, a far more interesting (and fair, I have to admit) point was how wet people inside that car would get. After all, it wasn't even a drop-top (convertible). I pointed out that the interior was probably mostly if not entirely waterproof to some degree. Not only that, if they decided to use it for a shopping run or similar, they could always throw a tarpaulin over the back seat.

Okay. Time to shift gears.

I have a very curious mind, especially when it comes to words. I love how various languages relate to each other, how words can have different meanings but the same historical root, how the English language evolved... well, you get the idea. I'm a word nerd.

When I mentioned to Julie about the possibility of tarpaulin usage, my WN gene switched on and suddenly decided it wanted to know the historical roots of the word. Unfortunately, I wondered this aloud to my wife, someone who has, at best, a most pragmatic approach to the English language.

Well played, love. Well played.

For anyone that is interested in the etymological roots of the word 'tarpaulin', here is the Wikipedia entry.

Of course, if you happen to be anything like myself, you're going to want to look up the entry for 'palling', and thereby doom yourself to hours of chained searches on Wikipedia....

World Book Night - FAIL!

As we love you, we thought we would give you a treat. Specifically, an outtake from our feeble attempts to put together a clip to promote our free draw.

As you can see from the still above, I'm looking a tad pensive. Believe me, by the end of the clip I had good reason...

There you go then. Julie asserts her superiority once more.

Don't forget - you still have a week to go to enter the free draw. Email us at juliesgems@gmx.com or drop us a line at our Facebook page. You have until midnight GMT Tuesday May 7th 2013 to enter. No addresses needed until the winning names are drawn from the hat.

Cheers!

Letters discuss the RSPB.

There is a charity based in the UK known as the RSPB - the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. In 1891, a few societies with similar aims merged to become the RSPB, and the aim was to prevent birds from being killed simply so ladies could have feathers for their hats. Later, the society's remit was extended to protecting birds and their environments, as it was clear that so much of birds' existence is dependent on the places where they live, feed and migrate.

In case you're wondering, the bird in the logo is an avocet.

More recently, it became painfully obvious that the RSPB needed to widen their focus even further; a neither birds or the flocks exist in a vacuum. Any locale is so much more than the sum of its parts; everything depends on almost everything else. So it is that the society now campaigns for the protection of animals, plants and environments in general, alongside the original focus of our feathered friends. In fact, they recently looked into whether they should change their name to reflect the widened aspect of their interests. However, it was decided that they would keep their name - partly out of nostalgia, partly because they felt it would show potential donors that they are not simply another environment charity, and partly to reflect their moderate emphasis on - guess what? - birds.

That said, and bearing in mind that the RSPB, along the RSPCA (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals), is one of the biggest animal-related organisations in this country, pretty much everyone knows what the initials stand for.
So, when the question arose in a game of Trivial Pursuit, I was expecting Julie to rattle off the correct answer pretty smartly.

Silly me.

So Julie. What do the initials stand for?

Indeed.
To learn more about the RSPB and its work, visit their site.
Oh, and my humblest apologies for the terrible pun in the title.

Good guy Uruguay?

Staying with Trivial Pursuit from Wednesday, here's a Gem that ticks a great deal of the boxes; Geography, a quiz game and that wonderful ability to blag an absolutely daft and improbable answer with humour and aplomb.

Generally, trying to explain some geographical concept to Julie is rather awkward. Not so much for the question or any lack of ability to understand the answer, but more the timing. Why is it that Julie tends to ask something that generally requires some visual aid to explain when we're in the car - or sat on the sea front, with a frustrating lack of flip charts and black markers.

On the other hand, if you don't know the answer to a question in a game and you're just having a bit of fun for a change, then just throw caution to the wind and make whatever your 'guess' may be a highly entertaining one.

Bwahahahahahahaha! Good answer!

Cleanliness is next to Godliness, apparently.

On a bright day recently, Julie and me decided to go for a little drive. Sunglasses on, Madness on the CD player, we headed off westwards along the A27. This route takes you right into the heart of the [newly declared] South Downs National Park, which features lots of old river valleys, broad and shallow. It's a nice place to be, and very popular with walkers, hikers and other people that don't mind getting rained on.

Since it's chalk downland, people in the past felt the need to make their mark on the landscape. Like the White Horse at Uffington, these marks are large and tended to on a regular basis. The Sussex Downs has two such things in our area. A solid horse on a hill near Alfriston, and the rather more famous Long Man of Wilmington.

As we were driving past the Long Man on this occasion, I noticed what I can only describe as a flock of paragliders circling over the hillside.
For those not in the know, paragliding is rather similar to hang gliding, except that when you throw yourself off the hill/cliff/whatever, your means of support is a lot less sturdy. It doesn't help that you have to have someone make the run-up with you, holding the parachute - in pretty much the same way someone would help you to get a kite up in the air.

For all my snide comments above, I have to admit that they did look especially graceful when they were up in the air and drifting about.
Julie, on the other hand, is nowhere near as enamoured with the paragliding idea.

...yes, lovey.

You couldn't make it u... oh - she did.

OK, so we were playing Scrabble, which is a word game. However, today's Gem is - to me, at least - very much a definitive one. Yes, there were doubts as to what Julie was trying to play for her turn, but I still maintain what she said as a defence is more than equally applicable to her whole approach to life.
Now I have strung things out by repeating myself with polysyllabic terminology, all that remains for me is to draw back the curtain and present what I feel may become the slogan for our blog.*

'nuff said.

*Previously, we had considered using the phrase, 'Julie's Gems - the best website this side of the table'. However, I think we should drop it in favour of the above Gem, as the new one goes some way toward explaining a bit more about who Julie is and what she does.
What do you think?
Either comment below or send us an email to juliesgemsuk@hotmail.co.uk

Julie vs the telesales people (part II)

We posted a Gem a short while ago about what happened when Julie received a call from a telesales person (click here to see the confusion). After that, we were talking about other ways we could baffle the buggers...
This hasn't happened, but we wish it would. We're just waiting for the right time.

Painting the sky with feathers

It's time for a certain young guest star once more :-)

Sharron and her family were visiting her mother-in-law, who had recently been seriously ill and now returned home. The weather was quite pleasant, apparently, which made a nice change from the wind and rain that had been hammering the northern parts of the country for some days. In fact, the sky was a beautiful shade of blue, so much so that Sharron remarked on it to her daughters. They looked out of the windows, and then the youngest daughter said:

You gotta love the surreal innocence of kids, eh?

No zex please, we're Scrabbling

As you may have guessed, Julie and myself we playing a game of Scrabble. We had been out for a stroll, met up with her brother unexpectedly and then walked along the seafront back home. We were a little surprised, actually, as we had been expecting to get rained on, but the clouds held off until we got back. Thus it was that I got the kettle going while Julie set the board and racks up.
Tea for two and a game of Scrabble. Lovely.

It wasn't far into the game, however, that Julie took her turn, playing 'zek' and leaving the board like this:

As I have said before, we don't play strictly to the rules. We have a couple of books with word lists in them, and browse through them in search of a word we think may exist and be viable with the letters on our racks. This, naturally, is how Julie wound up playing the odd-looking 'zek' and frankly libidinous 'zex'.
Except that neither of us knew what the hell either word meant. The book that Julie uses is simply a list of words. Mine, however, also gives definitions, which usually assuages my curiosity.
Mind you, my initial curiosity was confined to wondering whether I could slap an 's' on the end of 'zek'.
I could.
Having confirmed this, my eyes drifted over to the definition.

Well, that's a lot better than the 'Germanic sex' option I had been expecting.
Not that I expect Germanic sex ... I'm not helping myself here, am I?
er...
Anyhow. In case you're interested, a 'zex' is a tool for cutting roofing tiles, according to the book. Not that I can find anything about the damn tool apart from other people mentioning it in their blog posts about Scrabble games. It's all rather recursive, isn't it?

Oh, and if you thought Julie's words were odd, I then followed it up by playing 'schrod' (a young cod) across from 'zek' and grabbing 45 points. Nice.

World Book Night 2012. Boy, do we have a prize draw for you. Finally.

As promised, we pulled some names out of a hat - literally. We're old school like that. We even committed it to video. Finally. We really need that camcorder so we can save ourselves a fortune in AA batteries.

Anyhow.

Like we said before, there would be five winners, each winning a special edition of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's 'Good Omens'. As we added later, there would be an especially lucky person who would also win further prizes. Take a look.

Not a bad haul, eh?

Just to recap the prize situation, everyone will get a special edition of Good Omens and an official, laminated Julie's Gems bookmark. One lucky person also gets a special edition of The Time-Traveler's Wife and a slap watch (seriously, who come up with these stupid names?)
Last night, after Julie came home from work, we cobbled together a quick video clip for the prize draw. As you will see, we had no script (as per usual), not much expertise, and certainly not much of a clue. It also didn't help much that we hadn't agreed how we were going to go about things. As a result, right from the word 'go', I was pretty much wrong-footed for the whole clip.

So, there you go. Four lucky people and one very lucky person. Congratulations to Jules, Sharron, Kevin, Peter and the winner of the extra book and watch, Dimitra! Your goodies will be winging their way to you in a short while - well sort of. Kevin didn't have to wait long at all, the lucky so-and-so.

As you can see, Kev only won the book and bookmark. He seems pretty
happy about it though, doesn't he?

Heh - I did a quick little presentation, showed him the video clip and handed him the book. He then asked me if we had made that video in the library. I had to explain to him that the books behind us were actually ours. And represented less than half of our own personal library.
[/bragging mode]

The quotable Pratchett

Nothing much to say today, despite the massive backlog of Gems, both from Julie and friends who have passed on humorous situations to us. (Think you know someone who is worth Gemming? Drop us a line at the usual email address or via our Facebook page.)
No; today being the last full day of our competition, I thought we could share quotes from Terry Pratchett. After all, I know we could do with a giggle, right? Leave comments below with your favourite quote - if you can think of a single one, that is - and I may collate them in a few days in a special celebratory post.
To get the ball rolling, I wanted to share this Gem-like quote with you. It's not from any of his books, that I can think of, at least, but is worth displaying just for the sheer fact most of us will be sitting here nodding and grinning our heads off like Roundworld versions of Nanny Ogg.

Come on, admit it. You spent a few seconds staring at it before you started nodding, didn't you?

Like I said; the free draw ends tomorrow, so get those entries in!