Time for Wasting

I've had a few complaints about a post from a short while ago. There have been reports of much time being lost, work not completed, dogs not walked and dinners left uncooked, all thanks to the Live Ships Map (link provided for those of you who missed it the first time around, I'd hate to think I might have failed to corrupt someone!).
Well, just to show how sorry I am, and that I do truly listen to the comments and observations made about this blog, I'm going to direct you to another spectacular time-waster: this one is a live map of the London Underground! The explanation at the side of the map does warn that the trains may occasionally appear to do strange things - while I was watching a train en-route to Borough Station diverted to take in the Bankside branch of Lloyds TSB (other banks are available) and the Little Dorritt Park. Indeed I suspect there's a whole new sport to be found in searching out the train that strays the furthest from its actual route.
And just in case you find yourself with a few minutes left to squander, there's a partial live map of the wider rail network, though in truth, that one is rather less exciting.
I await your complaints with great anticipation!

Feeling the Heat

On a day when the Great British MPs have announced that they should be given a 32% pay rise (we're all in it together, you know!) and a Metropolitan Detective Chief Inspector has been convicted of trying to sell information to the press, it's probably worth pointing out a story that makes living in Britain seem a little less wearisome.
On the other side of the world, the good people of Australia are having a brutal time of it at the moment. As if being scorched by a record-breaking heatwave and fleeing for their lives from raging forest fires wasn't enough, they now have to contend with the mother of all dust storms. The town of Onslow had been bracing itself for the arrival of a tropical cyclone when the enormous dust storm blew up.
The Daily Mail's coverage of the story has some amazing photographs and a video of people standing on the beach calmly watching as the storm heads towards them. They're a tough bunch, those Australians. I'd be running at top speed in the other direction, and I wouldn't be wasting any breath screaming either!
So, the UK may be run by wretchedly greedy politicians and corrupt police, but at least the air is cold and clear. This is probably one of the few times when Britain looks a better place to live than Oz!
My heartfelt good wishes to the people of Australia. Hope things cool down for you soon.

Ice Whale Update

It's been reported that those canny whales broke free from their icy Hudson Bay trap without the assistance of puny axes or mighty ice breakers. A change in weather apparently broke up the ice and the killer whales are now free to roam the open seas.
(In other news: the local seal population has launched an angry protest about the early release of mass killing orcas. They are also demanding stronger ice and less changeable weather patterns.)

Breaking the Ice

There's news today that makes me want to grab my pen to write an ending. I refer to the story of the killer whales trapped beneath the ice in Hudson Bay. Apparently they're surviving at the moment by using a small air hole in the ice, but the hole is shrinking as the ice spreads and the poor whales are getting a wee bit panicky. So would I be. Well, I wouldn't, because I wouldn't be swimming in the Hudson Bay at the warmest of times, let alone now, but you know what I mean. The local people have appealed for help for the whales, but nothing short of an ice breaker is going to work, and they are evidently pretty busy rescuing trapped ships at the moment.
To be honest while it might not be fun being stuck on a ship in the ice at least there would be plenty of fresh air, unlike whales without a breathing hole. So in my ending for the story, the good people of Inukjuak labour away with their puny axes and knives to keep the diminishing hole clear for as long as possible then, just as it's all looking hopeless, to a great fanfare (please supply your own as I don't know how to begin spelling one) along comes the mighty ice breaker. Cue the sentimental music, much cheering and a dozen very happy killer whales (who quite possibly go on to sink the aforementioned ice breaker in the exuberance of their celebrations - that's the non-Disney version obviously).
Please feel free to invent your own ending for the story as the UK news will doubtless now forget all about it and we'll never know the real outcome. Let's hope it's a happy one for the whales, and the people, and of course the ice breakers.

'Back' in Business

I must apologise for my prolonged absence, it's entirely my own fault - I put my back out moving half the contents of the house back into place after Christmas. I've had trouble with my back since I was a teenager, but in my head I'm strong as an ox and don't need to ask someone else to lift, fetch and carry for me. Whatever my head thinks, an ox I most certainly am not. Having spent the last three days flat out on the living room floor unable to manage anything more than the occasional self-pitying groan, I think my days of denial are now behind me. No more heavy lifting for me.
Today, however, I can sit for long enough to check out the news and catch up. My standard trawl of the Mail's site took me, rather dispiritedly, through their usual pre-occupations, but it did turn up one gem. It might end up costing me though, because now I want to replace all our furniture. The gem in question covers the work of  'Straight Line Designs', creators of some of the most innovative and imaginative furniture I've ever seen.
'Straight Line Designs' own website has an excellent gallery, but if you wish, here's the link to the story on the Mail's site.
I want 'Bug Street' because it looks like a giant play set, 'Bad Table' because it's so irresistibly mischievous, 'Raymond' for his laid back style, 'Sobey' because it's simply beautiful, and 'Beaver' just because it made me laugh.

New Year Lock-In

For one 73 year old lady in France, New Year's Eve turned out to be a rather solitary and definitely unusual experience - the poor woman got stuck in a supermarket for the night. Apparently she had been shopping and felt faint, so had taken refuge in the toilets, but when she emerged everyone had gone home leaving her trapped inside.

As she wondered around the shop she triggered the alarms, but all the staff were evidently busy celebrating and nobody realised she was there until the morning.

According to the BBC she was too honest to help herself to a New Year's treat from the shelves. Had it been me, I would have made a beeline for the wine section and would have been found in a happy little curled up ball the next morning, sleeping it off.

2012 ... I mean 13!

So that's it then. Nothing left but the recycling. Advent, the 24th and 25th December are easily my absolute favourite time, the 31st is my absolute worst. I hate, loathe and detest New Year's Eve. I know, I know, what a grump, but don't be fooled by this deceptively happy day. New Year's Eve is the full stop at the end of Christmas, the giant ugly raspberry marking the end of the get-together. In comes the new year and down come the decorations, turn off those happy cheery fairy lights. Everyone back to work/ school/ university. Back to grey, dreary everyday.
Yes, New Year's Eve is the headteacher of dates, pointing a great warty, chalk-coated finger at us, telling us the holiday is over. And then there's the added irritation of knowing I'll spend the next three months constantly writing the wrong date everywhere. I'd just got used to it being 12, now I have to adjust to 13, and 13's unlucky you know!
Still, for those of you of a different persuasion, here's some footage of the budget going up in smoke. I'm off to stare at the fairy lights for a couple of hours.
Happy New Year!