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....

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.

Talking for two

I have a habit that Julie finds annoying - even though she is sometimes guilty of doing precisely the same thing herself.
If I'm out and about and there happens to be someone nearby talking loudly (usually on their phone), then I'll often pretend I'm taking part in the conversation. The beauty of this is that the other person is so wrapped up in what they are saying that they don't realise I'm right next to them taking the piss.

Today, I was taking a gentle stroll along the seafront with Julie. We had just crossed the road, and were passing a couple who were discussing something or other. As is so often the case with even a quiet conversation, odd words or phrases float out and catch your attention. This time, though, Julie was there and was talking too...

Wait, what? I stared at Julie, and asked why she thought the woman we had just passed would have been concerned about a local sporting event.
As it turned out, Julie hadn't intended to give this impression. She just happened to comment upon a sign at precisely the moment the 'concerned' woman move out of earshot.
And confused the hell out of me.

If you want a true masterpiece of talking at cross purposes, though, you would be hard-pressed to find a better example than this clip by comedy duo The Two Ronnies.

Synonyms and antonyms; apparently the same thing.

For the next couple of weeks, I'm going to be plugging the free draw we're running in conjunction with World Book Night 2012 on Julie's Gems. If you fancy winning a special edition copy of Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, then all you have to do is send us an email. That's it. Just an email saying you want the book, leaving only your name. I will only ask you for a postal address should you be lucky enough to win one of the books.
Don't forget there is also a second book (also special edition), just to sweeten the pot. One of the five copies of Good Omens will also be accompanied by a copy of Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife.
And, as if that weren't good enough, then every book I'll be sending out will include a bookmark featuring the Gem below. That's right, Julie's Gems are finally beginning to hit the printer!

So what are you waiting for? Drop us a line, let us know how much you want the books (and the bookmarks, of course!) and we'll put your name into the draw.

Send all entries and questions to us at juliesgemsuk@hotmail.co.uk

Back to the Gem for today. I can't remember much about the origins for this one, but I can only guess that it must have come about thanks to one of my little fits of trying to be clever and using polysyllabic... er, big words...

Well, yes. I can't argue with that, I suppose...
If you want to review the free draw details, then feel free to read through the original post. There are some nice pics of the books too.

When the Protection goes bad

Poor Julie. She's not been feeling well at all lately. I won't go into too much detail, but I will say that the toilet isn't too happy right now either.
The problem is that Julie was meant to be beginning a part-time job at our district hospital today, but we had a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't be all that welcome right now. Especially in view of the fact that the norovirus has closed three of the hospital's wards already (Handy hint, folks. Use those little bottles of alcohol gel wash - they're not there to look good, you know).
This is not to say that Julie actually HAS the norovirus, so don't worry. She has some medication and will be her normal self again in next to no time. At the time, though, we were discussing what we needed to do. Obviously, Julie needed to see a doctor, as normal binding medication hadn't changed things. Equally important, though, Julie needed to call the hospital and let them know what was going on. After all, as Julie said...

Well, at least some things don't change; Julie appears to have all her marbles. She's also not lost her sense of humour. No sooner had she come out with this particular Gem than she burst out laughing. She knew full well what it was she wanted to say, but her wiring had crossed somewhere and come up with a faulty response. Oddly enough, it appears to be one of Julie's favoured current slip-ups.

One of these things is/isn't/is like the other (huh?)

We went out for a little stroll along the seafront today. As I'm still a bit iffy on my feet, what with the slipped disc and all, we had just stopped for a little rest on a bench - on the seafront. It being the seafront, there were plenty of seagulls around, including the shrill squeals of hungry young gulls. It was enough to make you want to buy a shotgun, I tell you.
The gulls weren't the only ones though. Because I live in a town, there were of course the omnipresent pigeons, those horrible little feathered plague pits.
No sooner had we sat down than one particularly ugly pigeon fluttered down and began to strut back and forth in front of us - on the off-chance we had something it could eat. Push off, Percy. Not happening.
And then I noticed one of its legs looked particularly deformed.

...er... Yes, dear.
Now, the thing was, I hadn't actually taken my notepad with me. As we were leaving, I told Julie, "Now, don't say anything funny, please."
And then she comes up with the comment above. For a moment, I let it slide. Then I started rummaging in my pockets desperately. No way was I risking the chance of forgetting this. In the end, I found a shop receipt and scribbled it onto the back of that. That'll teach me.

Actually, this Gem reminds me of one of my all-time favourite jokes - well, it's not so much a joke as an exercise in dada-ist absurdism

I say, I say, I say - what's the difference between a duck?
One of its legs is both the same.

See? silly, isn't it?
Anyhow, I shall now leave you with further avian absurdism; the hit single, 'Mouldy Old Dough' by Lieutenant Pigeon. At that point in time and for quite some time after, this had the honour of having the oldest person in the charts - have a look at the other pianist...




Well. it was either this or - no, sod it. You know what, I'm going to post this one too. Have a listen to a little-known Genesis single (well, e.p., really); Pigeons.




TTFN!

A meaty slice of carrot cake.

Julie, by her own admission, isn't an adventurous cook. Much of it is down to her upbringing; her family always went for burgers and potatoes, sausages and chips, etc etc. The exception to this was a massive fondness for a roast dinner and a penchant for fruit cakes. Julie has picked this up brilliantly and makes a fruit cake which is requested whenever my folks come to visit. Considering my Mum's cooking and baking skills, this is high praise indeed.
Mum's cooking isn't haute cuisine, nouvelle cuisine or even Gordon Ramsay (for which we are all grateful), but she likes to have a go at most things. In her time, she has cooked everything from steaks all the way to a full Chinese banquet in lieu of a traditional Christmas dinner. Well, everyone gets fed up with turkey after a while, don't they? My mum's specialities are a corking sherry trifle and a lasagne that is so popular, my sister requested two dishes of it as part of her day-after-the-wedding party. I would have said it was funny to see everyone not in the know watching the scrum for a piece of it, but I wouldn't know. I was too busy elbowing someone out of the way.

Back to Julie. As I say, I do like a roast meal cooked by her; the roast spuds are usually pretty damn good. And the cake? Well, you know of that already. However, don't bother asking for herbs or spices in anything. That side of things will be down to me. While Julie likes the taste of them, she doesn't quite have the confidence to experiment herself; the best she will usually manage is a healthy dose of Worcestershire Sauce. Usually this is great - but not in porridge (don't ask). If you ask Julie about her culinary skills, she will usually sum it up this way...

In other words, don't bother asking Julie to get with the fussy green bits and wotnot. Let her bake a cake - she's happy then. (Admittedly, sausages aren't that difficult, but when I do them, I like to get a decent sausage, not a meat-flavoured loaf. My fussiness throws her off)

Come on and do the pasta dance!

Hi folks; just a quick update for you today. After a fortnight on the road, I am absolutely knackered and thinking isn't much of an option. Fortunately, I had the Gem for today set up in advance.

A short while ago, me and Julie were out and decided to have a bite to eat. I opted for the macaroni cheese, only to be all pedantic about the type of pasta they were using in the dish, because, as everyone knows, there are hundreds of pasta shapes, all with their own particular name. What I had was definitely not macaroni.

Quite possibly. I doubt it though...
Maybe they do the pasta-doble?

Tibetan shit-flavoured tea??

I love tea. I also like to drink those infusions that people tend to call 'tea', despite the fact they don't consist of anything from the tea plant. Chamomile is an especial favourite. When it comes to the proper stuff though, you can't beat a cracking cup of normal tea - the sort usually referred  to as 'English Breakfast Tea'. I like it strong, with just a little milk to take the edge off it.* That said, there is a particular blend of tea of which I have a certain fondness. It's a strong flavour with a smokey hit to it.
I won't name the tea yet, just in case you can't think of the name right now.
What I will do, however, is turn to the subject of cheeses. Julie isn't a fan at all of cheese. She will have a little now and then, but otherwise, forget it. Me on the other hand - I love it and I can get away with it, because cheese tends to have a lower lactose content than milk. Again, I like flavours and when I was off on my travels, I met up with some friends in Ipswich and we went around and about looking various shops.
In one, I hit a jackpot of sorts. Not only did I manage to find Julie a birthday present, but I also got myself some smokey cheese.
Very smokey cheese.
Julie, when I showed it to her, was less than impressed.

Yes folks, Julie has managed to Gem the tea more commonly known as 'Lapsang Suchong'.


*Although I generally have to use soy milk as I have an intolerance for the real thing. I can cope with a little, but it's best avoided if I can help it.

Failbook: Vocabulary/pattern recognition

You may have gathered that I am a man of words. This is true. Despite the fact I had to take my English 'O' level twice (youngsters would know it as a GCSE these days), I take great pride in having a better-than-average grasp of my mother tongue. Mind you, as with most people with a little pride and not much talent... don't I just know it?*
The other day, one of my friends posted a link to something via Facebook, a survey called Test your Vocab. Before you get all sniffy, let me assure you that it's not a Facebook app, so you don't have to allow it access to your sex life, bank details and your genetic code. In fact, you don't even have to go to Facebook at all, so all you trendy Twitter-philes and hipsters on Google+ can enjoy it with impunity and dignity intact.
</facetious mode>

I'm getting off-topic, aren't I? Sorry about that.
Anyway, I naturally thought to have a go and see if I really was as good as I thought I was. The result? Pretty much so. Me being me, I thought to brag about it and so posted about it on Facebook.
Julie saw this and decided that she, too, would chance her arm. There were two problems with this idea. The first was that Julie has a habit - an entertaining one, to be sure - of making up her own words when the real one finds it can't make its way any further than the tip of her tongue. The other... well, just see for yourself in this screencap from the actual conversation thread on Facebook.

(Don't you just love the thinly-veiled threat at the end?)
So - How did you fare on the survey?

*For a top-notch explanation of this turn of phrase, please enjoy this short film by The Streets.

Double-up Monday (pt.2); Random acts of grammar

Every now and then, Julie will attempt to explain or justify her Gems. Naturally, this is not dissimilar to using a hammer to get rid of the bug on your toe. I mean, seriously, I'm thinking of getting JCB to sponsor this site if she digs herself in any faster.

Don't believe me? Want some evidence? That's fine - there's plenty. For now, though, have a look at this one-liner;

Good, eh?
Before you jump to Julie's defence, however, let me tell you that I did wait for a good length of time after she said that, just in case there was anything else to come along and complete it. In the end, I laughed and reached for a pen...

You know what though? Now I look at it again... it sort of makes sense.

Tomorrow: Regrets and coloured cars.

On the Costa Delirium

We've had a lot of warm, dry weather lately, which is nice for those pesky tourists (the perils of living in a seaside town), but not hugely beneficial for my garden. Occasionally, though, we like to go out and enjoy ourselves about the town - just like those pesky tourists.
On the day in question, we decided to stop at a cafe and have a drink. Unfortunately, it was pretty much packed inside and those few tables that remained all seemed to have screaming toddlers or hyperactive youngsters next to them, so we decided to sit at one of the tables outside. Luckily, it was one of the warm days, so the only trouble we had to keep an eye out for was an aggressive smoker or two.

And then Julie came out with the following remark on the weather.

I suppose it's some consolation that she didn't come up with 'Costa Del Boy' (from UK sitcom Only Fools And Horses) instead of a reference to a drinks label and a ham-fisted attempt at 'Costa Rica'...

Strummers, not scrubbers.

I may have mentioned this before, but when we're sat at a table, playing a board game, we like to have a bit of music in the background. With our tastes, though, there has to be a couple of ground rules. The main ones are that Julie will not be allowed to play any TV show related stuff (Glee and X Factor mainly) and I, being a music fan with massively broad taste, will not play anything too esoteric or heavy.

Fortunately, the acoustic guitar wizards known as Rodrigo Y Gabriella pass muster (just; by reason of not having any singing, Julie can just about put up with their string twiddling).
On this occasion, we were playing Scrabble; I was concentrating on my turn when I suddenly realised I was nodding my head rather energetically to a particular track ('Vikingman' from their eponymous album, since you ask). From that, we had this exchange:

I'm fairly well-known for my ability with a snappy comeback. On this occasion, Julie completely fused my synapses and it was down to automatic reflex to close my mouth and stop my brains dribbling from my ears.

Oh, and since you WERE interested enough to ask what the track was, here they are performing it at Glastonbury.

Scrabbling for meaning.

I'll be honest here. When we play Scrabble, we don't play strictly according to the rules. We have a couple of books with all the words that are allowed in the game listed in them. That's fine, but we don't just use them to make sure someone has played a kosher word.

We actively browse the books to see if what we have is possibly in there. In my father's case, the answer is usually 'no', but then again, this is a man who regularly forgets just where in the alphabet a particular letter may appear. Regardless of the family member though, if something we're convinced/hoping is in the book turns out to only exist in our heads, then we will toss the book disdainfully onto the table and utter the mantra, "Huh - stupid book."

Me and Julie have even gone so far as to extend this activity (when it's just the two of us) enough that the other can pick up a puzzle book and have a go at a sudoku or two while we're waiting. All this while listening to a CD.

Sometimes, however, inspiration strikes and we just slap down the tiles, which isn't always a good idea, because The Book is the final arbiter...

I didn't even dare to ask what she was looking for. It was starting to get a little too metaphysical for my taste.

Eye love edible geometry

For some reason probably best forgotten, me and Julie were discussing words containing the letter 'I'. It was all going swimmingly until Julie suddenly hit 'stream-of-consciousness ramble mode'. Since there's no way of following what she says in these situations (and even less chance of stopping her, usually), I tend to sit back and enjoy the show.

This time, though, Julie was more than partway coherent and started listing words and using phrases with large amounts of 'I's, until she reached...

Um... quite.

I/you/we can't cope. You/I/we can't help it.

Julie has these moments now and then. They're the kind of moments where all you can do is step back, shut up and wait for her to run out of steam.
What are they like, these moments? Well, imagine a game of word association, played by one person. A person who isn't saying aloud all the possible links between words or phrases and frequently jumps ahead to a point several links down the chain.

If you think that's confusing, you ought to be there when it happens (usually without warning). Hence the following exchange...

For a mild dose of Julie's little moments, try this video...