Smart Parts

Until my father's car was passed along to me, Julie and me had had an extended period of not having our own transport. That may not be too much of a problem, but as anyone who had HAD a car, bike or whatever before losing it will know, you find yourself frustrated and a little lost once that car has gone. All those places that were previously accessible suddenly become distant and unattainable. It doesn't help that I'm not much of a public transport kind of person.

Naturally, you fantasise about having a car again.

By this point, Smart Cars had been around for a while, but I still liked the idea and the look of them. Being able to get into tiny parking spots was a bonus. Cheaper, more economical and allegedly more eco-friendly (although doubts have since arisen, which I do not fully understand), the only downside of them for me was the lack of storage space. Okay, for a single person, it wouldn't be too much of a problem, but for a couple with luggage, space is going to be a very pertinent issue.

You might think I'm being a little oversensitive about this, but after a fly-drive holiday to Ireland with a friend where the agent supplied us with a Toyota Yaris, I take it seriously. I kid you not. That Yaris had a boot (trunk) that had space for only one suitcase stood on edge and perhaps a small bag to one side. Perhaps. There were other issues I had with the Yaris, but the storage was the main one.

Let's get back on track.

Naturally, this little fantasy of mobility was a shared one, even if the specific details varied a little between us...

This took place some years ago, and I still don't know what Julie meant by that. Nor does she, so at least I have company in confusion.

Mind you, this paint job might qualify.

Easy, rider.

Now, THAT'S what I call a compromise...

Certainty

There is a famous and oft-quoted and paraphrased bon mot which has been attributed to Benjamin Franklin, the US statesman and former president.

Many people have since added a third option; human stupidity, housework, etc etc...

Some time ago, I was talking with Julie about this blog and the Gems she comes out with. Gradually coming to terms with the fact that most people are on her side (including me!), Julie is sort of enjoying the notoriety she has in our currently small audience.

We have mentioned before that my notes are referred to as 'damning evidence that could be used in a court of law' - or something very similar - but this time, Julie raised the possibility of a legacy.

"If I died," she said, "would people remember me?"
I replied that while I hoped that day lies long into the future, I believed strongly that she would.

Obviously, Julie meant 'posthumous success', but it struck me as being accidentally very deep.

Can't see for looking

I realise that the title for today's Gem may be an odd one for none-British people. Essentially, it means that the seeker is looking so very hard for something that they have missed the fact that it is usually right under their noses. Or, in the case of spectacles, on the nose.

For a brief time, Julie and myself worked at the same place. This meant, if the weather was clement, we would have a leisurely stroll home along some of the quieter roads. In addition to being quieter and less polluted, these roads were pretty much residential, and it was nice to see what people had been planting in their gardens.

One garden had some tulips, although not the botanical sort.

This was the first time I had seen these charming solar-powered lights, and I pointed them out to Julie. Unfortunately, Julie couldn't see what I was pointing at...

You see, Julie had a double issue; not only was she looking too hard for these lights, she was also wearing her distance glasses, and the lights were well too close for the limits of the glasses she had on.

Love that turn of phrase though.

(Bull)dogged

"British Bulldog, one-two-three!"

That phrase should bring a small wave of nostalgia to many of you (mostly Brits, obviously). British Bulldog is a game played by many children (and adults, on occasion), normally in the school playground. It did go through a dark phase during the 1990s, when political correctness and the imported culture of litigation meant that many schools banned the game as being too dangerous.

Bollocks.

I'm a physical coward, and I LOVED playing B.B. I was useless, granted, but I had fun anyhow. What's a scrape or two to a kid? Nothing. Yes, I will admit that there could be - and has been - the odd serious injury, but you cannot and should not stop children from having some energetic, social, spontaneous fun.

For those of you unfamiliar with the game, here is a graphic for you.

Image from BBC News site http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7592648.stm

Now, because of said political correctness shite, I haven't seen or heard of Bulldog being played for a long time. However, on an evening walk with Julie and Roxy, I saw a youth activity group getting into a game of Bulldog. As I say, I had been a long time since before schools were banning Bulldog, and Julie was never too keen on it in the first place. So when I commented on what game was being played, I had to remind Julie of the rules. It didn't take much for a connection to be made and Julie was nodding her head in recollection. It seems she had had it confused with another popular schoolyard game...

...Oh well.

Verbal and Legal

It appears I missed Wednesday. Shame on me - especially as I had a Gem ready and waiting to go.

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

Last week, we went to a live show (as opposed to a dead one. That would have been boring). The band in question go by the name of The Illegal Eagles, so named because they are a tribute band to - well, it's obvious, really, isn't it? The show was excellent; all the musicians really know their stuff.

The band began eighteen years ago, started by the second and fourth gents in the picture. Over the years, there have been a lot of members, although some more permanent than others. The bass player on the right has been with them almost since the start. The newest - and youngest - member of the group is on the left. No, it's not Smallville's Lex Luthor, unless he has had a personality implant. He's a good addition to the band, contributing, as almost all of them do, to every section of the stage. Mind you, the real Mr. Diversity is chap #4, playing a variety of guitars, drums, vocals (including lead), and even saxophone for 'The Heat is on', played in the set's solo hits section. One each from Glenn Frey, Don Henley ('Boys of Summer'), and Joe Walsh ('Rocky Mountain Way'*).

You may have noticed that I haven't, until now, mention the third gent in the lineup. That's because he is the only one whose name I know off the top of my head; Keith Atack. Keith is the only reason that we were there. You see, Julie was massively into a band called Child when she was younger, and Child featured a couple of twins by the name of Tim and, yes, Keith Atack. Here's a picture of Keith (or is it Tim? Heck - they're twins...) to show why Julie was such an ardent fan.

Handsome, no? By the way, I had a little trouble searching for images, and I really hope Big Brother understands that my search term 'child singles' - in Images, no less - was innocent. After all, I really wasn't wanting results of Destiny's Child.

Back on track.

Some days later, we were out, taking Roxy for a walk and discussing the concert. I raised the point that TIE have been sanctioned by members of the original Eagles, in much the same way as Pink Floyd have approved The Australian Pink Floyd Show. It's something that has always made me smile to myself; I mean, 'The Illegal Eagles' can be a bit of a tongue twister on its own, without throwing anything else into the mix.

I have no idea if I did get it right, but it's as close as anyone would get. Julie herself admits there would be no way of repeating it.

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

* 'Rocky Mountain Way is good, but I prefer 'Life's Been Good'.

OBJEC...tion...?

I'm a bit late today, so I'll get right to it.

Today, Julie gives us an insight into a possible career change. One which would make Franz Kafka proud.

And before you say anything, no, I did NOT make a mistake in writing that down. It's just Julie thumbing her nose at Physics once more.

Swine on the sly

Some time ago, I mentioned that Julie had been referring to a running gag in one of her Gems (this one, in fact). And you know what? I quite forgot to mention the Gem that started it all off.

It all began innocently enough - for one of our conversations, at least. A nice drive in the countryside, windows down and enjoying the warm, if fragrant, air. Playing 'spot the farm animals'...

Wait, what?

Well, the thing is, we often use statements that don't just verge on The Bleedin' Obvious, but rush in and take over its territory - all in the name of having a conversation opener. My father used to do this too ("It's uphill, this bit"). However, silly is as silly does. If you opt to start a conversation with a daft opening, you can't really complain if the whole exchange ends up the same way...

You'll have noticed that by the end of that lot I had caught the bug and was operating at Gem level myself...

Whynot wotnot?

I try to get them all, I really do. Unfortunately, there are some times when circumstances prevent me from doing so. Most often, this is when I am driving, for obvious reasons. Even then, I can sometimes somehow persuade Julie to scribble down a hasty note.

Similarly, we will be in public situations where my whipping out a notepad would be either inadvisable, impolite or downright impossible.* Such situations include; at the counter in a bank, drenched in a downpour, in the front row of a stand-up comedy show... you get the idea.

However, the most common cause for my failure to document each and every Gem is this; when Julie is in full-on Gem Mode (and yes, it does deserve the capitalisation), I can't even mentally process what is being said, let alone jot anything down.**

On more than one occasion, I have been brain-crashed by a Gem and my speech centres have similarly been affected. When that happens, all I can do is splutter out a disbelieving, "...WHAT?"

It seems I respond in such a manner quite frequently. Frequently enough for Julie to Gem right back at me.

...of course it is, silly me.
I think I'll go and have a lie down...



* Is it me, or am I writing very alliteratively today?
** Now, imagine how I feel when I'm driving around an unfamiliar town centre, trying to cope with Julie in Gem Mode...

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...

Think pink!

We bade a fond farewell to our friend on Saturday. After a fun week packed with meeting people, going places - and far too much food - she sadly had to return to Greece.

After breakfast, we piled into the car and set off up to Heathrow airport. Remembering the pig's ear that was the previous week's journey, we made damn sure we left plenty of time to get there. Just as well, because the M25 once again slowed to a crawl; rather than being way too early, we were pretty much bang on time. But that's by the by.

On the way up, I was concentrating on driving - although we did have some music going, a rather eclectic mix disc of mp3s I had thrown together. Between the two, I missed the occasional detail - especially if they were in a blind spot on the other side of the car. So when Julie came out with this particular Gem, to say I was speechless is something of an understatement.

Wait, what?
Our friend was too busy laughing to be of much help, and Julie was pointing in the direction of one of those blind spots. Eventually, I managed to reason she had been referring to an ornament on the top of another car's radio antenna.

Cute, eh?
Except it's not pink. It took me a little searching, but I eventually worked out that the ornament in question was in the style of Piglet from the Disney version of Winnie the Pooh.

You have no idea how relieved I am to know what it was...

Touchy about temperatures

A little while ago, we decided to have Chinese food for dinner. In order to save a little money, we bought some ready meals at Tesco, and rounded it off with a pack of spring rolls. When it came to cooking the food, later that day, we found that while the spring rolls needed to be cooked in the oven, the meals and rice had to be done in the microwave.

With a little planning, we worked out the order in which everything needed to be cooked and set it all off.

A short while later, we took the tray of spring rolls out of the oven so that we could follow the instruction to turn them half-way through their cooking. Yes, we have tongs in the kitchen, but we couldn't be bothered to get them, so we just used our fingers instead.

That cartoon's not strictly accurate for the events. Partly because nobody cried tears (let alone what appears to be urine), but mostly because it was not me, but Julie that was wincing as she gingerly flipped the rolls over. Smiling slightly (I know, cocky bastard, or what?), I took over, nonchalantly turning each roll over, taking my time. Yes, I could feel they were hot, but they didn't seem to burn me, nor did I feel any pain.

Julie couldn't believe it, blaming it on some kind of machismo thing.
"Nah," I said, "I've just got asbestos fingers."
"What?" Julie exclaimed.

I explained:

Wait... so you want not hot heat...?

DN-eh?

Please allow me to introduce ZME science.

I have been following ZME Science for a few years now. While it isn't as big as some other blogs, it is most certainly enthusiastic and cheerfully tackles many topics that stretch the definition of 'science', such as archaeology, which is history with a whole mess of science thrown in for good measure.

A relatively recent addition to ZME is a section for questions and answers. Anyone can ask a question, and anyone can also provide responses to or rate questions. Even more recently, they have also started up a contest on their Q&A page, with a rather wonderfully science-themed prize; the chance to find out your genetic lineage via a DNA test. You could find out that your father's great-great-great grandfather originated in Tibet, while your mother had some seriously Scottish ancestry.

Well, I don't know about you, but I'm definitely going to enter. If you want to, visit this particular blog post to find out more...

Mind you, Julie wasn't too keen on the idea.

I'm not sure, but that may have been a very subtle and unconscious play on words, involving 'box' and the fact that 'reincarnated' sounds sort of, possibly maybe, maybe not similar to the word 'carton'. Perhaps.

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

What - you're still here? Don't be daft - get over to ZME Science and get your entry to this contest in right now! The prize is available globally, according to my contact, and the closing date is July 31st 2013

The placing of the platypus

Once more, we return to the veritable minefield that is Trivial Pursuit. And to what is apparently becoming the signature beastie for Julie's Gems - the platypus.

Just when you thought the pesky thing couldn't cause us any more trouble, up pops its leathery beak. In all fairness though, the problem isn't due to our mighty monotreme. Instead, it's human hearing all the way. That, and the serial misunderstandings that begin once Julie asks me the question...

Now, why does Abbott & Costello come to mind...

For those of a curious mind, here's where Tasmania happens to reside.

Vital video procedures

OK, so World Book Night 2013 is nearly upon us. On Tuesday, I will be handing out three-quarters of my copies of Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair at a cafe in Eastbourne. Here's my poster advertising the event.

Hmm. I tried to make a logo for JG, but it's turned out a bit naff.

If you can't make it for some reason, then no matter, because there will still be a chance for you to win. On Tuesday, there will be a special blog here telling you just what you need to do. Not only that, but there will be a video of me and Julie presenting the goodies on offer.
Oh yes.
It's been a while, I know, but if a WBN giveaway isn't a good reason, then I don't know what is.

I was discussing this with Julie earlier, and cheekily suggested that she had a small glass of wine to loosen her up a bit. She replied that she'd rather have a big glass. Fair enough, I suppose.
When my wife came out with that, it reminded me of a Gem she came out with when we raised the possibility of a video a while back. The video never happened, but I kept hold of the Gem, because I knew there would be a time that I could share it.

Essentially, Julie was already 'loose' as she puts it. Enough that not only had her mouth escaped from her brain's strict control, but it was tripping over itself in trying to leave the rest of her behind too. Not only that, but she was in danger of using up all her good material before we had the camera ready...

On reflection, I can't work out if that makes sense or not...

Watery sponges and cheesy bricks

Every now and then, Julie and myself have a recurrent conversation. It usually takes place after a Gem, or when I have splashed out a little nugget of information. Essentially, Julie marvels that the garbage collector that resides in my skull manages to keep hold of so much detail - usually along the lines of "God, you know a lot of crap, don't you?"

This time around, I was expanding the definition of the word 'acoustic' for my wife. More precisely, that when applied to guitars, it means that they are of the non-electric variety (yes, I know that you can have an electric acoustic guitar, but it wasn't worth throwing that in, because I'd have been bogged down in explanation for another hour). This, of course, is why you had the MTV Unplugged shows and albums - back when MTV was about music, that is.

Luckily for me, I wasn't given a complement of the backhanded variety.
It was more a statement of wonderment.
Wonderment cut with a hefty dose of WTF.

....yes, dear.

The platypus and the identity crisis.

I don't tend to watch TV that much. This means I need to find an alternative method of finding out the news. Sure, in these times the internet is pretty much the source for all the news you could ever want - and don't want. Or isn't true. Whatever. I'm not that old, in my mid-forties, but I'm certainly of an age and disposition that I prefer to read a newspaper, printed on paper.

Obviously, the question then becomes 'which newspaper'? No way am I going to read the parochial Daily Mail and the Princess Diana-fixated Daily Express. Likewise, I want to actually read news about real things, so that eliminates The Sun and the Daily Star. After that, you then turn you what are known as the broadsheets; The Times and The Guardian. However, they are known as broadsheets for a very good reason - their size. I'm sorry, but I don't want to have to wrestle with my newspaper. Also, I have to admit that while I like to think of myself as being better than reading the redtops with their pictures of topless women, The Guardian and especially The Times are far too highbrow for me.

This leads me to The independent..
However, buying a newspaper every day is a tad pricey, especially when you don't have much money coming in. And this is where the people at The Independent had a cracking idea - why not publish a digest version of the main newspaper - give the main points for each story and then move on.
Since The Independent by definition and reputation is fairly unbiased in its political leanings, this is another point in its favour for me. Also, since the i, as the digest paper is known (including the colour), necessarily cuts out a lot of stuff for the sake of space, this means there is a lot, lot less celebrity crap.
Oh, and the paper is stapled, so no trouble with keeping it all together.
All for 20p (30p on Saturdays, as it covers the weekend).

The i is a great read, for me at least, but there is one feature that Julie, my mother and me all enjoy; the crossword at the back. It's general knowledge, and of moderate difficulty. One feature of this crossword is especially fun for us - the first two (sometimes three) clues across make up a pun. For example, the answer to the across clues could be 'Hart' (a stag) and felt (a soft material, often used for hats). If you put them together, you then get 'heartfelt'. Not a funny pun, but it's a little something just to help you along.

Recently, both Julie and myself found ourselves momentarily stumped by a particular clue.

14A Diving duck (6)

Since other answers had given us _C___R, we should have had enough to work with. Unfortunately neither of us are bird-watchers, and I had a headache in any case. Since our habit is to pass the crossword back and forth, each filling in until we get stuck, did that. and then we fell back on our normal practice; trying to talk it out. We worried at a couple of other problematic clues for a while, and then returned to our diving duck. Initially, we both sat in silence, trying to think is through, but then we tried our emergency option - wild guesses.
On this occasion, the wild guesses were to get a little wilder than before...

Obviously, Julie was in quite a whimsical frame of mind.

By the way, the answer to the clue was 'scoter' (to be honest, I'd never have got that). Have a look at the RSPB page for it.

A cheesy mouthful

Sometimes, things happen and you find yourself thinking, I don't want to know.

Imagine this little scenario, if you will.
You will walk into a room and find your housemate, naked, straddling his golden retriever. For a moment, you face betraying no emotion, you stand there. You housemate and his dog return your look. For them, surprise and embarrassment hasn't had time to register, and before it does, you calmly - but definitely - leave the room.
There's a decent explanation. Even as you leave the room, you know this. However, the situation has managed to affect your mind enough that, for some reason, you just can't think of one right now.
Some time later, while you and your housemate are watching TV, you broach the subject carefully, picking at the subject like you would try and scratch an itch around a scab or cut.

As it happens, all that occurred was that your housemate was just about to get dressed when his dog suddenly decided to see what the contents of an ashtray tasted like. His owner was understandably concerned for the dog's well-being and yelled for the dog to drop the dead ciggies. The dog, thinking that this was some kind of game, happily dashed out of the room and downstairs. And your housemate dashed after him, forgetting that he wasn't wearing even a single sock. In the front room, he finally managed to catch hold of the dog; gripping the retriever's torso between his knees, he bent forward to try and prise open the dog's jaws.

Which is when you walked in...
...and out again.

Have an embarrassed retriever in a baby swing.

For my part, I was already in the kitchen when Julie had her moment. The previous evening, Julie decided to drop by McDonalds on the way home from working at the hospital. I sat in the car while Julie went in a bought her food and a coke for me. The next morning, I went to the fridge for milk to put in my tea. In there, I saw that Julie had not been able to eat her burger - not even a bite.

Later that day, after that evening's hospital shift, Julie took the cheeseburger out of the box, put it on a plate and into the microwave.
After a couple of minutes - *ping!* - one superheated and unappetising bit of meat in a bun. Julie put the plate onto the worktop and turned the bun over. With some difficulty, I might add; all the cheese had melted and slid out of the bun and welded the whole thing to the plate. I grimaced slightly and turned away to the sink to rinse out a mug. When I turned back, Julie was picking at her food. She looked up, saw my expression and tried for an explanation.

Hmm, yes. Sometimes, it's best not to attempt an explanation. Especially if you have a tendency to pick the wrong words...

Cause and effect overturned

Julie likes to enter competitions in the magazines she buys, the sort where there are loads of puzzles and prizes of varying worth. I'm not condemning this, not at all. I enter prize draws whenever I can myself. The main difference between our habits is that hers come from printed magazines and mine are generally found online.

We haven't won any holidays yet, although we have both got some decent prizes. I have won a fair few books and Julie got various games. My personal best was a brand new blender and a month's supply of Greek yoghurts. The yoghurts were rather tasty, although after a month of them, I was glad to see the back of them. My sister was a happy camper though; she had just moved into a new flat and called dibs on the blender. As we already had one blender, one which didn't see much in the way of action, it made sense for me to pass the blender over to a suddenly cheerful sibling.

Julie, in the meantime, stayed with the gaming theme for her top prize - a Mario Kart Nintendo Wii box set. Sweet. It's not my wife's cup of tea, but I was most definitely chuffed to bits.

Some time after Julie's big win, her brother came round for a visit. It didn't take long for the subject of the win to be raised. Never mind the pride and excitement, it's a little difficult to cover up a gaming console when it's attached to the front of the TV...

Colin, Julie's brother, was properly pleased for her, and asked how she had managed to win it. Julie then explained that it was one of the many contests she played for in her magazines. In this case, a sudoku puzzle magazine. As we chatted about the contests, we both had to admit that while we had had a few wins, it was more often the case that we didn't win anything. In fact, Julie has yet to win anything from any magazine other than the sudoku one. It's a little frustrating, as there are lots of decent prizes in the other periodicals. However, as I have pointed out a few times, it's all down to how many people actually enter the competitions. The sudoku puzzles are very specific, which means the fewer people chancing their luck have better odds. It hasn't put Julie off them though. As she says, you have to be in it to win it.

Well, that's not strictly true. What Julie  actually said was this:

I'm not sure, but beneath the loopy language, I have a feeling Julie just violated the laws of time and space...

Something in the way she derps.

Last week, we featured a Gem from the category of Trivial Pursuit, that board game version of a pub quiz. The question asked of me was "What language boasts the most words?" I got the answer correct (English) and then Julie came right out and admitted that her personal lexicon was somewhat less than extensive. During the short discussion that followed, we established that perhaps half of her word count was taken up by the word 'wotnot'. Most of the time, 'wotnot' will be a noun, one for an item whose correct nomenclature seems to escape my struggling wife. On rarer occasions, the 'w' word would take the place of a verb.

And when 'wotnot' features twice or more in a sentence, you know Julie has had something of a brain-fart and come up with a sentence where that word takes the place of a noun or two, a verb and, if you're really unlucky, an adjective too.
Mad stuff. "Wotnot - not even once."

I only bring this up, as it would seem 'wotnot' has a rival, of sorts.

Julie came home from her morning job one day, and it was patently obvious to me that some matter was giving her concern. When I asked her if she was alright, her reply was along the lines of, "Hmm? Oh, I'm fine, I'm just trying to remember... " However, she then pulled a face and tried to explain...

Well, that's cleared that up...

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

PS - while writing this article, I wanted to avoid using the word 'something' too much myself. However, I couldn't think of one right then, so I went to synonym.com and had a bit of a chuckle when it turned round and told me that it couldn't find a suitable synonym .
Mind you, it was not much better at my preferred thesaurus site, thesaurus.com - there were a few words, but all were less than apt for my need. Oh well.

No, no, yes-yes, no

Every now and then, Julie seems to go into Gem overdrive. Or, as she puts it, "I'm having a mad five minutes."
Most of the time, these 'MFMs' happen at home, towards the end of the day. Tiredness does play a large part, it has to be said, but there is also a strong case for arguing the side of 'winding down after work'. I can understand that. I mean, if you've been on the go all day, then you want to put your feet up, both literally and metaphorically.

However, Julie will sometimes have an MFM while we're out and about. These are the occasions when I have to be very quick about writing stuff down, because the Gems come out so fast, they almost pile into the back of each other.
Naturally, Julie gets a bit miffed about having to stop every few feet just so I can jot down the latest Gem, so when I called our walk to a halt last week, my darling wife decided to make a comment. Unfortunately, she got a tad confused and it sort of backfired...

To tell the truth, I'm not all that sure myself...