U.K. blogger fined for post

Yesterday in Wales a 24 year old man, Gavin Brent, was fined by magistrates for the content of a blog post in which he subjected a police officer to what was considered a 'menacing' attack.

Brent had been charged with nineteen offences of theft and vented his apparently extreme displeasure by making the post, the content of which attacked the officer and his new baby. The charge for the post was bought under the Telecommunications act.

I may very well be wrong here but this is the first time to my [limited] knowledge a blogger has been convicted in the U.K for the content of a blog post and it brings up once again, that old chestnut, freedom of speech. Should we be free to post anything we wish or should we be held responsible under law for our written opinion?

Again my knowledge is limited but I assume that should one publish a post for instance, likely to incite racial hatred or to promote terrorism, charges could be bought against the owner and in principle at least, journalists have guidelines to which they have to adhere, hard though it is to tell sometimes should you subject yourself to our delightful daily red top publications!

I can never quite formulate an absolute opinion on this question though I err on the side of believing we should be held responsible, under law if the case is suitably extreme, for the content of any post we put 'out there'. In the case of Mr Brent's post however, whilst undoubtedly it was very offensive, it appears to be merely the silly rantings of a stupid individual annoyed at being caught and perhaps would have been better treated with the contempt it deserved!

Your opinion?

Blow into this!

Every time I up-sticks and move to a new area, and let's face it I have done more than perhaps my fair share of that over the years, I have to go through what is fast becoming a bit of a 'ritual'.

I am asthmatic (yes I smoke I know, I never said I was perfect), I have been asthmatic since I was three years of age, I use an inhaler (or two) and my asthma is so well controlled that I barely, if at all, even think of myself as asthmatic. This is of no consequence.

Each time I sign up to a new doctors practice and go for my 'introductory' appointment, I am steered, despite my gentle protestations that it's only a few months since I last saw one, to an asthma nurse....who invariably puts me through the same old malarkey.

I am not a health care professional but I would hope at my age I am at least a little familiar with the workings of my own body. I can tell the nurse before she even hands me the peak flow meter what my reading will be to within five points but still he or she will insist that I huff and puff into it....and hey presto it dispays the same reading I already offered.

This done (and my reading is pretty decent even for a smoker) I will always be asked to illustrate how I use my inhalers and I will always be told I am doing it correctly, though this seems to be of no matter for always a new and modified regime of administration and dosage will be suggested. I try politely to mention that the dosage and timing I use has been worked out over many years and has been found to be the optimum for me but nope, it is always insisted that for 'just a few weeks' I adhere strictly to the new regime..... and in the face of professional opinion I always give in.

So, as always I have spent the last few weeks huffing and puffing and wheezing my way to the follow up appointment in a few days time, when I will present with a much lower peak flow reading than before and as a consequence the nurse will always 'advise' that I go back to my old regime!!

Hey, ho, I suppose he or she has no real idea that I know what I am talking about and so in these days of medical paranoia it all has to be checked and then re-checked but somewhere along the line it does seem something of a waste of precious resources to me.

Cat diary

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some
sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.

In an attempt to 'scare them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about "what a good little hunter" I am. How dare them!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.

However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.

The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move.

My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.

Still ungainfully unemployed

So still the search for gainful employment goes on, it's been over eight weeks now and to be honest I didn't envisage it would be this long or this difficult!

Jobs it seems in these parts are a rare commodity, or at least those that you might actually want to do and even having widened my criteria to include part time, painfully poorly remunerated positions, it's still difficult.....and who said there isn't a recession, if you're out there trying to find work it's beginning to look suspiciously like there is something very similar to a recession going on!

I am still trying to hang out for something at least vaguely reasonable but in reality even something very 'un'-reasonable is proving hard to track down. Yes I've had a few days temping here and there which is better than absolutely nothing but only just.

All this raises a few issues, not only the glaringly obvious which is that I'm broke and with a car about to fail it's M.O.T dismally and expensively but if you ever thought you would love to leave work think again. Yes, for a few weeks it's pretty cool but longer term, particularly in my situation with no children to take care of and only a small home to manage, no matter what interests you have, once you can pursue them so much of the time their interest gradually begins to wane, as does ten hours a day with only yourself for company, the inability to sleep night after night because you just don't get tired and the gradual whittling away of your self confidence as the result of constantly being made aware that you are not good enough to be offered even a half decent position.

It's an odd thing, kind of an emotional roller coaster. You begin by believing you have at least adequate skills, hell, you have always been employed, therefor you must be employable...... mustn't you? Each possibility brings the high of imagining actually succeeding this time, only to be hotly pursued by the low of not succeeding again and try as you might tell yourself not to hope to hard in the first place, somehow the promise of possible work and solvency is too much to resist daydreaming over just a little bit.

Then of course there is our culture's habit of defining the person we are by what job we do and our income level and whilst I have always tried not to fall into that trap, out there in the big wide world there are many that do. Believe me, when you have neither you qualify quite spectacularly as a nobody and begin to dread that old chestnut in social situations of being asked "so, what do you do then"? The response to the reply that you are currently unemployed usually meets with an embarrassed silence while your questioner tries desperately to think of what to say next!

I know I put myself in this position, a fact that only adds to the pressure, but whilst as a consequence I don't have the right to complain, it's turning out to be a damn sight harder than I ever envisaged and not allowing it to gradually erode away at one's self esteem and motivation is harder still.

Perhaps it's different if you don't need to work but it's only when you can't work that you realise that work is about so much more than just money!

Comment confusion

For a while now I have been trying to get rid of some of the faff and bother on this blog and one of the things that bugs me is the two comments systems I have here. I installed Haloscan in the distant days when Bloggers commenting system seemed to 'expire' spectacularly on a regular basis but now I find myself with a small quandary and a big mess. It would of course be easy to just remove the Haloscan system but I can't bear too, given that most of my comments over the years are there and I don't want to lose them!

Yes, I'm a comment whore (look me in the eye and tell me you're not!) but in an endeavour to sort out the confusion I have decided to ask you kind people, that if you care to comment then please use Blogger where you can. Hopefully I have made it a little more straight forward down there in the comment links.

..... and maybe one day my narcissism will subside sufficiently to allow me to kill off the Haloscan system completely!

'Martin'

I'm that person.....you know the one, the person minding her own business, who if there is an individual who isn't quite 'with the game' in the vicinity, will be chosen to home in on! No matter if I'm on a train, a bus, in a waiting room somewhere, anywhere, it always happens, the eccentric roaming around will always single me out to be offered the 'benefit' of their own special brand of wisdom.

And it was thus that a few evenings ago, when Fletch and I decided to have a drink and something to eat at a local bar we were accosted, nay utterly pinned down by a guy of slightly questionable stability!

Fletch had got to the bar a little before me and he was already embroiled in a conversation with the man in question by the time I walked through the door. Initially I was mildly interested, the guy was most definitely an 'individual', which is more times than not a good thing and holds the promise of character and at least a few minutes entertaining conversation.

Let me endeavour first to describe the aesthetics in this particular instance: dressed as he was in a style I can only call 'cowboy goth rock', he stood at least 6'5" (when you are only 5' that's tall!) and was very slim, all in black, a big stetson with all manner of skull and crossbones 'bling' pinned onto it, a tasselled leather jacket, also emblazoned with Lord knows what, very wild cowboy boots, enough heavy weight gold skulls on every finger to put out an entire football team with one hit, long curly [bottle] blond hair and carrying a full length, also much gold skulled staff. In a middle England trendy bar he was not the usual sight, though I have to say his appearance wasn't in the least intimidating and he was a gentle, polite, well spoken kind of chap.

All seemed well, with drinks purchased and polite conversation made we headed for our usual seat.....we had escaped. Oh no we hadn't. Within seconds our 'companion' had invited himself to join us and from that point on it became increasingly apparent we had been singled out again by someone who's conversation was to be viewed with some large degree of skepticism and who's grasp on reality was somewhat lacking!

We began to be regaled with a life story, our friend it seems is the lead guitarist with Queen, he is about to go on a world tour, he owns 25 pubs and hotels dotted around the U.K., a yacht, has an entourage of sorts and offered for our perusal a bank account statement showing a current balance of £250,000. He gave us a business card, it was one of those made in a machine at a motorway services and he recanted little stories of 'life on the road' with Brian May and Freddie Mercury....etc. etc. etc....blah, blah, blah.......

We played along, laughing as you do in the appropriate spots and asking pertinent questions until thankfully eventually he had 'business to attend to' and departed in a swirl of black and gold into the night.

I have to admit it was quite amusing for the first few minutes but not quite the quiet drink we had planned unwinding after a hard days work [that's Fletch not me I hasten to add] but the guy was harmless and polite and though he was most certainly not inhabiting quite the same place as the rest of us you know what they say...it takes all sorts.

Hey...sex and drugs and rock and roll..... ;o)

Any woman....

.....who smokes the devil cigarette and has even the remotest understanding of her own body probably didn't need research to tell her THIS!

Just call me 'Herman'.....

.....because I feel like him, Herman Munster that is!

I have one of those necks, you know the one, it hurts like hell and it doesn't do what it should, it's locked in position shooting pain from my shoulder to the top of my head and even copious amounts of pain killers and deep heaty kind of stuff isn't rendering it any the more mobile or pain free. I don't usually 'do' pain killing drugs, tending to think that unless we are talking a life threatening kind of pain then I can manage without, I have to fill my little body with too many pharmaceutical 'wonders' daily as it is without adding to it unnecessarily. This hurts though, big hurts, that or I have become a pain wimp but whatever even with the damn pills it's not good.

I have no idea what I have done to render myself in this pathetic Herman-esque condition, maybe I just slept oddly on it (on the odd occasion I actually sleep these days) or maybe it's sitting in a different position at my new computer table, who knows...... but I do know the novelty has worn off now!

Sun-up

Not today's sunrise I might add, today's meteorological 'gifts' are pretty dull and glum so I prefer to remember this one from a few weeks back!

Sleepless in Cambridge

Doesn't have quite the same ring about it as 'Sleepless in Seattle' does it?

Last night was another of the now annoyingly and far too frequent sleepless nights, I thought I had it cracked having managed to sleep much better the last week but apparently not!

Last night was different though not the usual 'I'm just not tired because I don't work' nights but one of those nasty nights where every worry that usually resides somewhere at the back of the mind suddenly sees fit to come full force to the front and harass you unmercifully. Ugh. I won't bore you with the details, we all have our fair share but why in the dead of night do they have that damn infuriating habit of seeming all the more insurmountable? On the up-side however I did finally finish the book I have been reading for weeks instead of abandoning it half way through out of boredom as is my usual habit.

Anyway, this morning I am fit for very little, there is a distinct feeling of 'bleugh-ness' about me, I have the whole cotton wool head thing going on and a distinct lack of motivation!

Perhaps chocolate is the answer.....

Sore feet!

Yesterday, unusually for me of late, I spent working in gainful employment, this was the job I blogged last week because it sounded a strange combination, a business exhibition , the venue for which was an animal rescue centre!

As it transpired it wasn't so odd. I had assumed [wrongly] that the rescue

establishment would be the usual, small, slightly tatty environment that often prevails in these places as a result of underfunding and over subscription.....how wrong can you be? This place was large, bright, modern, well run and included not only facilities for cats, dogs and small animals but goats, sheep, horses, llamas and waterfowl, it had conference and event facilities and a full size riding arena!

The job was working for a design company doing the front end representation, networking stuff, not my favourite of pass times, all that faux pleasantry, smiling and handshaking drives me nuts, smarmy economically motivated men in suits just don't do it for me but unfortunately I'm not bad at it and it was work.

The guy I was working for was pretty laid back though, a privilege of being in design is that you can get away with being slightly less 'stuffy' even in a business environment, so we painted our smiles on, shook lots of limp and sweaty hands, 'played the game', worked the room hard between us and had a suitably successful day, there was only one casualty....... my feet are so bloody sore! Most of my working life has been spent on my feet, I'm used to it but it's been a long time since I had to do it eight hours straight in ridiculous heels!

I tell you, if guys had to wear heels there would be more sitting down! ;o)

Absolutely no way!!!

El camino del Rey ( The Kings Pathway), a walkway along the side of a gorge in El Chorro near Malaga.

Sorry, no matter how beautiful it is, not as long as I live will you ever find me walking this....


...but why do I just know that someday 'himself', a lover of all things extreme, is gonna try to get me on there?!

Grandmother versus Tesco

You have admire this woman's fortitude in taking on one of the big boys!

In retaliation for finding her home the subject of a possible compulsory purchase order to make way for yet another new Tesco store, Dot Reid has decided to give the Tesco chief executive Sir Terry Leahy, a taste of his own medicine by applying for planning permission to bulldoze his mansion home in Hertfordshire and provide land for a community garden!

She won't win either fight of course sadly, Tesco will, because they always do, they can afford the best lawyers and they can afford to have the necessary 'friends' in high places.... but as one who has found herself in the past, with a property legally blighted by compulsory purchase and having taken my fight the more usual route to law, I applaud her style.

In my case I tried to fight a test case (not against Tesco I might add), firstly against the very specific piece of [then] new legislation that had cause my situation and then through the European court of human rights. It became quite literally a full time, five year job, even finding a barrister to take the case took well over two years, barristers it seems aren't overly keen on taking cases that may or may not succeed, with the possible knock on effect of making or breaking their careers. Ultimately, much to my chagrin, circumstances prevented me from 'taking it all the way' but I have little doubt that I wouldn't have beaten the establishment, once you get that close up to the 'powers that be' their modus operandi is all too glaringly apparent..... and it's not a pretty sight.

So whilst I don't hold out much hope for her attempts Mrs Reid has my admiration because like so many things in our system more recently, for we minions, fighting in the more usual, acceptable and fair manner has a nasty habit of failing dismally!

Cynical....who me?

The perfect birthday

You have to be impressed by a man who not only lets you have chips and apple pie from McDonald's for breakfast on your birthday but also presents you with a big bag of presents and chocolate and then, way beyond the call of duty, organises a trip to a National Trust property...... just because they have a farm with lots of 'lambing action' going on. If there is one thing guaranteed to make me happy it's anything with fur and four legs and particularly new lambs. :o)


Ok, so fair comment, a National Trust property isn't our 'thing' by a long chalk, all those verynicemiddleclass families with hordes of screaming kids in their Barbour wellies just don't do it for us but the lambs do, well for me they do.


Fletch prefers his very rare on a plate with an elegant sauce (ugh!) but I have a passion for the living kind and since I left Scotland my annual small pleasure in watching the new born lambs playing in the fields has been severely lacking.


So, Sunday, off we went to Wimpole Hall, the aforementioned NT posh residence, not for the architecture or the Capability Brown gardens....nope for the farm, in search of lambs....and lambs we found, lots and lots of them, many only a few hours old and so utterly cuddly and cute....and daft! :o) And not only lambs, but donkeys, pigs with piglets, cows with calves, chicks of various breeds and big shire horses


......it was positive plethora of 'awwww-ness'....and ok, this farm facility was no doubt really intended for the under 10's but who cares, I loved it....and Fletch soldiered on bravely. ;o)

Then it was home to have dinner cooked for me, my favourite rich chocolate souffle for pudding, chocolates and more chocolates and my choice of movie, The Shawshank Redemption (incidentally a 9.2 on the IMDb scale).....the perfect 'gemmak' birthday.

Thank you to he who organised it all :o)


(Images clickable)