We have recently welcomed my cousin and his wife from Yarragon, Australia, and spent a blissful week-end with them. We were sad to see them go, we have learned much about 'down under' and it's people.
For a start, they are not all like the ghastly (but hilarious) caricatures created by Barry Humphries, nor do they all act like Barry Mackenzie or Kerry Packer. Not a bit of it. Our two Aussies are very intelligent, articulate, sensitive and self-effacing people, and they offered an interesting insight into the Australia of today, its wildlife, and its people. It is true that they have their embarrassments, and were quick to distance themselves from Rupert Murdoch, Kevin Rudd, and the entire cast of 'Home and Away'. I don't blame them. I reciprocated by denying any empathy whatever with Nick Clegg, Vince Cable, or Sir Tony Robinson - fortunately, they had not heard of David Dickinson.
I am a great fan and supporter of the wildlife of Great Britain, and - after hearing of the stuff they've got - will support it even more fervently. Bloody Hell! They owned a dog for six months, but it died, bitten by a Tiger Snake in their back yard. After spending aus $50,000 on fencing for the little farm they've bought, Wombats have dug a lot of it up - and Wombats, let me tell you, are as thick as a yard of lard. They dig a hole to get in - which seems reasonable - but do they exit through the same hole? Oh, no - Mr Thicky Wombat digs another hole by the side of it, and off he goes! The result is that Geoff's paddock now looks like a modern Antipodean version of Vimy Ridge, or The Somme.
The previous owners couldn't cope with the snakes. I don't blame them, neither could I. "They're more frightened of you, than you are of them" said cousin. Oh, really? They must be scared shitless then, because I'm bloody terrified just hearing about them. Here's a list of some of the little sweeties that await you if you visit this septic isle, it's not exhaustive, and further horrors await the unsuspecting (Kevin Rudd again), and a lot of the descriptions are courtesy of Geoff's lovely lady, who was kind enough to write them down for us:
Wombat: No respecter of fences, built like a tank, ruins your radiator if you hit it (it'll be fine).
Koala: Harmless, really, and sleeps a lot. There's not a lot of energy in the leaves it eats, but there is a narcotic, which means that your average Koala spends most of it's life completely stoned. Hey, man.........................
Emu: Think they're funny? Rod Hull spring to mind, huh? Forget it. They may have the flying characteristics of a lawn-mower, but the male - who incubates the eggs - can run at incredible speed, and is perfectly capable of kicking a human being to death.
Possum: Sweet and really, really cute - unless it's living in your ceiling or eating your roses.
Kangaroo: Graceful in flight, and makes really good low-fat meat. Mmm, mmmmmmmmmmm!
Duck-Billed Platypus: If ever an animal was designed by a committee that got it wrong, this is it! Shy and elusive, you're probably breathing a sigh of relief. Don't. And don't corner it, either, because the male has poisonous spurs on his back feet, and one scratch means half a day out with the undertaker - really!
Almost everything else (including snakes, spiders, Crocs (obviously) Sharks ( the Bull Sharks in Sidney Harbour are described as 'grumpy'), and most of the sheep, will kill you without a word.
Oh, and they have this group of people with limited intelligence ( they struggle with long words like 'the', 'and', and 'but'), who live on estates, claim benefits, steal things, and wear Burberry baseball caps. They call them 'Bogans', and they may be ringing some bells with some of you already.
So.................Welcome to 'Stralia - no wonder it was a penal colony - but thank God for Australians, a breath of fresh air in a ridiculous world
Monday, 16 September 2013
Thursday, 12 September 2013
Is It Only Me?
I am pleased to note that the Railwayman from C2C who saved a woman's life has been re-instated, presumably with a warning not to do it again. Bob Crow, the Union boss, called it a 'victory for common sense'. I don't. I call it a senseless waste of time and money ( which probably came from fare-payers), when a simple "nice one, mate, but we'd better alter our procedures, so you don't have to risk your neck again, and people in wheelchairs can't fall on to the track" would have done. Still, I'm glad everyone's alright, and hope C2C have learned something...........
The depressing Syria problem refuses to go away, and now Mr Putin has taken centre stage. His idea may be good - or possibly just clever - but there's no doubt that he's taken the wind out of America's sails. The wrong-footed White House is now in between a rock and a hard place. There seems to be little appetite for intervention in the States, despite Mr Kerry and Co. frantically trying to drum up support to put the money where Obama's mouth is.
I think the biggest problem here is knowing who your friends are - which, of course, means knowing your enemies as well. Subtracting the enemies from the total does not mean that anyone remaining is your friend - or is even going to stay your friend once you've dug 'em out of the cack. There is no doubt at all that Assad's regime is oppressive (I worked with a Syrian who knew just how oppressive it is when the secret police murdered his brother and threatened him, so I'm not just making this up), and the man will stop at nothing. There is also no doubt that Vlad didn't thrive all those years in the KGB without being very capable.
But what are we replacing them with? Another bunch of evil old clerics who preach murder in the name of a peaceful god? Al-Quaida? A Syrian version of the world's greatest chauvinists, the Taliban? Are we condemning Syria to something at least as bad as Assad, or even worse? Do we know? And - call me Mr Cynic - where's the money? Because whoever controls the MIddle East has the key to the world.
Or is it only me?
The depressing Syria problem refuses to go away, and now Mr Putin has taken centre stage. His idea may be good - or possibly just clever - but there's no doubt that he's taken the wind out of America's sails. The wrong-footed White House is now in between a rock and a hard place. There seems to be little appetite for intervention in the States, despite Mr Kerry and Co. frantically trying to drum up support to put the money where Obama's mouth is.
I think the biggest problem here is knowing who your friends are - which, of course, means knowing your enemies as well. Subtracting the enemies from the total does not mean that anyone remaining is your friend - or is even going to stay your friend once you've dug 'em out of the cack. There is no doubt at all that Assad's regime is oppressive (I worked with a Syrian who knew just how oppressive it is when the secret police murdered his brother and threatened him, so I'm not just making this up), and the man will stop at nothing. There is also no doubt that Vlad didn't thrive all those years in the KGB without being very capable.
But what are we replacing them with? Another bunch of evil old clerics who preach murder in the name of a peaceful god? Al-Quaida? A Syrian version of the world's greatest chauvinists, the Taliban? Are we condemning Syria to something at least as bad as Assad, or even worse? Do we know? And - call me Mr Cynic - where's the money? Because whoever controls the MIddle East has the key to the world.
Or is it only me?
Friday, 6 September 2013
Health and Stupidity
Here in Essex a member of a rail company has been suspended for the heinous crime of saving someone's life. Clearly, this sort of thing cannot be tolerated, and there is a possibility that the man in question could lose his job. Quite what he could have been thinking of when he rushed onto the line after a woman in a wheelchair fell on to it, I cannot imagine. The train was a mere three minutes away, and, had he waited, would have cleared her off the tracks a treat, without endangering him at all.
A spokesman for the company said the man had breached health and safety rules by going on the track, which he was not allowed to do. Only trains and people in wheelchairs can do that.
I am not kidding. No, really, I'm not, honest. Anyway, you couldn't really make it up, could you? I'm very much afraid that it truly has happened, and provoked a storm of protest, obviously. You may remember my comments about one man's hero being another man's horse's arse (see Fred)?
Well, I rather think that our hero -which he obviously is - has come up against a horse's arse. He put his life in danger - a conscious choice - to save someone who was helpless to save themselves. Several other people helped him. Who's a naughty boy then?
So, if you're a fireman, policeman or paramedic - or even just human - don't go saving people's lives if it's dangerous, let them get on with it.
The next thing will be a national undertaker's strike if this kind of thing is allowed to continue.
Where will it all end?
A spokesman for the company said the man had breached health and safety rules by going on the track, which he was not allowed to do. Only trains and people in wheelchairs can do that.
I am not kidding. No, really, I'm not, honest. Anyway, you couldn't really make it up, could you? I'm very much afraid that it truly has happened, and provoked a storm of protest, obviously. You may remember my comments about one man's hero being another man's horse's arse (see Fred)?
Well, I rather think that our hero -which he obviously is - has come up against a horse's arse. He put his life in danger - a conscious choice - to save someone who was helpless to save themselves. Several other people helped him. Who's a naughty boy then?
So, if you're a fireman, policeman or paramedic - or even just human - don't go saving people's lives if it's dangerous, let them get on with it.
The next thing will be a national undertaker's strike if this kind of thing is allowed to continue.
Where will it all end?
Thursday, 5 September 2013
Insert Name Here
The title of this blog is taken from a phrase frequently used by Terry Pratchett's disastrous imp-powered Personal Disorganizer - a sort of medieval i-pad. It is used in place of a name, which is why our new granddaughter has acquired it.
She arrived in this rather tatty old world at 3.15 this morning, and I was alerted to her presence by her doting father, who obviously saw no reason why he should be the only one deprived of sleep.
We went to see them this afternoon - there would have been no living with ED if I'd refused, and anyway, I wanted to see her, too - and she is beautiful. So sure were her parents that she was going to be a boy, that they are now dithering around trying to choose a name, and she has, so to speak, completely wrong-footed them.
INH (for short - but hopefully, not for long) is blissfully unaware of all this kerfuffle, and is patiently awaiting her new name, whatever it may be. I cling to the hope it will not be something bloody daft like a drowning man clinging to a log.
So, welcome to the world, little Insert Name Here, may it treat you kindly all of your life. We will love you whatever they call you.
As long as it isn't Britney, of course.
She arrived in this rather tatty old world at 3.15 this morning, and I was alerted to her presence by her doting father, who obviously saw no reason why he should be the only one deprived of sleep.
We went to see them this afternoon - there would have been no living with ED if I'd refused, and anyway, I wanted to see her, too - and she is beautiful. So sure were her parents that she was going to be a boy, that they are now dithering around trying to choose a name, and she has, so to speak, completely wrong-footed them.
INH (for short - but hopefully, not for long) is blissfully unaware of all this kerfuffle, and is patiently awaiting her new name, whatever it may be. I cling to the hope it will not be something bloody daft like a drowning man clinging to a log.
So, welcome to the world, little Insert Name Here, may it treat you kindly all of your life. We will love you whatever they call you.
As long as it isn't Britney, of course.
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
Fed Up With Syria
I actually e-mailed the core of this blog to friends a while ago - before Eton Dave came second in the Parliamentary vote on Syria - but the feeling is still there. It is the feeling that someone, somewhere, is going to goof - and badly. Even as I right this, there are people calling for a re-think. These people include the Mayor of London - the Right 'Orrible Boris Johnson - who is, let me tell you, by no means the affable prat he pretends to be. No-one - but no-one - could have survived so many cock-ups and lies without being not only astute, but utterly ruthless - but I digress.
To take an objective look at our past military intervention, select a country we have intervened in - you know, Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq - and then ask yourself which one you'd take the wife and kids to for a holiday. See what I mean? That works, doesn't it? No, of course not.
Dave has to stop the swagger, because he has nothing to swagger with. We cannot afford it. We cannot cut back on everything from the NHS, benefits for the elderly (that's me, folks!) and street lighting (not to mention the emergency services) and finance a war against an unknown enemy.
The author of 'The Devil's Dictionary' - Ambrose Bierce, said that war was a way of teaching Americans geography, a highly-accurate if cynical view. We are not turning the other cheek here. For years now, this country has given shelter and new opportunities to people whose countries were in turmoil - very often because they lacked the humanity to sort themselves out. We cannot right all wrongs, and sometimes it must be up to others, because we have always been the others, and we are tired, Mr Cameron and Mr Obama - we are tired.
Still, take heart chaps, in the knowledge that I trust you both at least as much as I do Mr Putin.
To take an objective look at our past military intervention, select a country we have intervened in - you know, Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq - and then ask yourself which one you'd take the wife and kids to for a holiday. See what I mean? That works, doesn't it? No, of course not.
Dave has to stop the swagger, because he has nothing to swagger with. We cannot afford it. We cannot cut back on everything from the NHS, benefits for the elderly (that's me, folks!) and street lighting (not to mention the emergency services) and finance a war against an unknown enemy.
The author of 'The Devil's Dictionary' - Ambrose Bierce, said that war was a way of teaching Americans geography, a highly-accurate if cynical view. We are not turning the other cheek here. For years now, this country has given shelter and new opportunities to people whose countries were in turmoil - very often because they lacked the humanity to sort themselves out. We cannot right all wrongs, and sometimes it must be up to others, because we have always been the others, and we are tired, Mr Cameron and Mr Obama - we are tired.
Still, take heart chaps, in the knowledge that I trust you both at least as much as I do Mr Putin.
Human or Animal
A columnist who writes from time to time in our local rag made an interesting statement the other day, which got me wondering. He is not a huge fan of animals - unless of course, they - or parts thereof - are presented on a plate, with seasonal vegetables, and maybe a splash of gravy. It goes without saying that he is not a pet person, although he grudgingly acknowledges the educational role that pets can play. His daughter, apparently, has learned a lot about death from having several hamsters.
I don't have a problem with any of the above, nor, indeed, do I have one with his utter dislike of some of the more unpleasant species on the planet (no, not humans, although......). In fact, I agree with him. If all man-eating sharks, Crocodiles, and venomous nasties of all kinds were threatened with extinction, there would be no insomnia in this house.
But I do have slight worries about his disdain for people who say they prefer the company of animals to that of humans - not because they are right or wrong to make such a statement, but I feel the statements - his and theirs - require qualification. Under normal circumstances I prefer the company of ED ('er downstairs) to, say, that of a Great White Shark, although it does depend on how much she's had at the time. Budgies are somewhat limited conversation-wise, and Parrots seem to swear a lot. Dogs can be nice, if over-enthusiastic, company - my darling daughter's Newfoundland is an example of this. He is absolutely ideal for anyone who likes an eleven-stone furball with halitosis on their lap. Cats, of course, are a very emotive subject, and a purring cat on your lap is a relaxing experience. Right up until the moment the psychotic little bastard decides it's had enough and - instead of simply getting off - goes completely insane, claws you to shreds, and bites you.
I believe, though, that sometimes the company of animals is infinitely preferable to that of some humans. There are people out there you would not want to spend an evening with. I live in Essex, so I know what I'm talking about. For instance, would you like a few hours in the company of a Hoodie with a Staffie and eczema (the worst example of a human/animal relationship), or some of the druggies we see around here? There are numerous situations involving other humans that you just wouldn't want to be in - like a holiday with Nick Clegg, for instance.
On the other hand, if we treat our pets properly, they are rewarding and relaxing company, because the relationship is based on mutual trust and affection. Animals have no hidden agenda (except for some cats), and our little tabby would not consider hurting a thing. She's the sweetest-natured animal I've ever had, and I'm sorry, but I prefer her to a lot of humans.
Of course, if I was entertaining Julia Roberts, I could adjust my opinion, slightly.
I don't have a problem with any of the above, nor, indeed, do I have one with his utter dislike of some of the more unpleasant species on the planet (no, not humans, although......). In fact, I agree with him. If all man-eating sharks, Crocodiles, and venomous nasties of all kinds were threatened with extinction, there would be no insomnia in this house.
But I do have slight worries about his disdain for people who say they prefer the company of animals to that of humans - not because they are right or wrong to make such a statement, but I feel the statements - his and theirs - require qualification. Under normal circumstances I prefer the company of ED ('er downstairs) to, say, that of a Great White Shark, although it does depend on how much she's had at the time. Budgies are somewhat limited conversation-wise, and Parrots seem to swear a lot. Dogs can be nice, if over-enthusiastic, company - my darling daughter's Newfoundland is an example of this. He is absolutely ideal for anyone who likes an eleven-stone furball with halitosis on their lap. Cats, of course, are a very emotive subject, and a purring cat on your lap is a relaxing experience. Right up until the moment the psychotic little bastard decides it's had enough and - instead of simply getting off - goes completely insane, claws you to shreds, and bites you.
I believe, though, that sometimes the company of animals is infinitely preferable to that of some humans. There are people out there you would not want to spend an evening with. I live in Essex, so I know what I'm talking about. For instance, would you like a few hours in the company of a Hoodie with a Staffie and eczema (the worst example of a human/animal relationship), or some of the druggies we see around here? There are numerous situations involving other humans that you just wouldn't want to be in - like a holiday with Nick Clegg, for instance.
On the other hand, if we treat our pets properly, they are rewarding and relaxing company, because the relationship is based on mutual trust and affection. Animals have no hidden agenda (except for some cats), and our little tabby would not consider hurting a thing. She's the sweetest-natured animal I've ever had, and I'm sorry, but I prefer her to a lot of humans.
Of course, if I was entertaining Julia Roberts, I could adjust my opinion, slightly.
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Jargon Boy
Ever noticed that the higher up in what is now termed I.T. people are, the less they are understood by others? Indeed, there comes a point when contact with the English language (and possibly reality, too) is lost completely.
I have had a shining example appear on my genealogy site (yes, contrary to popular opinion I do have ancestors, and I knew my parents also), and clearly this guy - a Chief Technology Officer, no less, needs help. He starts off fairly reasonably by stating that 'several members have asked for more information on the cause of recent disruption', which is technospeak for about a hundred-thousand people all shouting "WTF's going on?" He then goes on to say that they have to make 'smart and purposeful changes to our infrastructure' - sorry, I'll translate: 'we've been sitting here on our arses in a cosy little world of complacency, we've had a testicular moment, and we are in deep shite'. See? I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. 'This week-end is an example of how our current architecture could still use some updates'. OR 'This weekend was a complete fuck-up.'
You'll all be delighted to know, I'm sure, that Jargon Boy has promised to do a lot of powerful things. For example 'Re-architecting our base development framework' is on it's way, and I for one can hardly wait. Ok, ok, I don't know what it means any more than he does, alright? Not only that, dear friends, but he's going to apply 'additional levels of network and database monitoring, to more quickly detect and resolve problems', or: 'We are going to try to stay awake'.
Now, I'm sorry, but having spent my hard-earned on this company, I don't expect patronising bullshit like this. I ask only that the site works with reasonable efficiency, and that if they wish to make contact with me, they do it in English, which is my only language. It beggars belief that Jargon Boy would expect normal people to understand this clap-trap, but he clearly does. This, I believe, is a measure of just how many light-years from reality he really is. I'm not saying he's ill, oh, no, but just keep him away from anything sharp, that's all.
He will 'evolve the site, and invest in new core product features', so that's alright then, but I've saved the worst until last; he's threatened to keep us informed at all times! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
I have had a shining example appear on my genealogy site (yes, contrary to popular opinion I do have ancestors, and I knew my parents also), and clearly this guy - a Chief Technology Officer, no less, needs help. He starts off fairly reasonably by stating that 'several members have asked for more information on the cause of recent disruption', which is technospeak for about a hundred-thousand people all shouting "WTF's going on?" He then goes on to say that they have to make 'smart and purposeful changes to our infrastructure' - sorry, I'll translate: 'we've been sitting here on our arses in a cosy little world of complacency, we've had a testicular moment, and we are in deep shite'. See? I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. 'This week-end is an example of how our current architecture could still use some updates'. OR 'This weekend was a complete fuck-up.'
You'll all be delighted to know, I'm sure, that Jargon Boy has promised to do a lot of powerful things. For example 'Re-architecting our base development framework' is on it's way, and I for one can hardly wait. Ok, ok, I don't know what it means any more than he does, alright? Not only that, dear friends, but he's going to apply 'additional levels of network and database monitoring, to more quickly detect and resolve problems', or: 'We are going to try to stay awake'.
Now, I'm sorry, but having spent my hard-earned on this company, I don't expect patronising bullshit like this. I ask only that the site works with reasonable efficiency, and that if they wish to make contact with me, they do it in English, which is my only language. It beggars belief that Jargon Boy would expect normal people to understand this clap-trap, but he clearly does. This, I believe, is a measure of just how many light-years from reality he really is. I'm not saying he's ill, oh, no, but just keep him away from anything sharp, that's all.
He will 'evolve the site, and invest in new core product features', so that's alright then, but I've saved the worst until last; he's threatened to keep us informed at all times! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Minister for Verbal Abuse
Without wishing to harp on about Syria, I was a tad miffed to see that a member of HM Government - or a minion thereof - had referred to Labour leader Ed Milliband as a f***ing c**t, because he opposed Eton Dave over military intervention. I'm glad that's out of the way, because those asterisks are bloody hard to pronounce, I can tell you.
Now, there can't be many people - including a lot of Labour supporters - who haven't reflected on the wisdom of Mr M's appointment as leader from time to time, but the obscenities do seem rather harsh.
What Ed Milliband said, in effect, was that his party was not prepared to give Dave an open cheque with which to go get him some Arab. They - quite rightly in a lot of people's opinion - asked that concrete evidence of who was responsible for the crime be provided before the punishment was meted out - always assuming we had the legal right to punish in the first place.
Seems reasonable to me. What our new Minsister for Verbal Abuse has done is to call most of the British public f***ing c**ts, because most people have - rightly or wrongly - been saying the same as Ed.
It's an aboose of 'ooman rights is what it is, but do not worry, because Eton Dave is dead against any such abuse.
Our Minister for Verbal Abuse will be gone very shortly, his house a smoking crater after a punitive air-strike by RAF Tornados.
After all, what's sauce for the goose................................................
Now, there can't be many people - including a lot of Labour supporters - who haven't reflected on the wisdom of Mr M's appointment as leader from time to time, but the obscenities do seem rather harsh.
What Ed Milliband said, in effect, was that his party was not prepared to give Dave an open cheque with which to go get him some Arab. They - quite rightly in a lot of people's opinion - asked that concrete evidence of who was responsible for the crime be provided before the punishment was meted out - always assuming we had the legal right to punish in the first place.
Seems reasonable to me. What our new Minsister for Verbal Abuse has done is to call most of the British public f***ing c**ts, because most people have - rightly or wrongly - been saying the same as Ed.
It's an aboose of 'ooman rights is what it is, but do not worry, because Eton Dave is dead against any such abuse.
Our Minister for Verbal Abuse will be gone very shortly, his house a smoking crater after a punitive air-strike by RAF Tornados.
After all, what's sauce for the goose................................................
Fred
Just recently, my other half bought a book for me. The occasion, if it can be called that, was my sixty-eighth birthday, not a cause for jubilation, you may say, but when you consider the alternative it could be worse. Sadly, the author of this worthy piece did not make it past sixty-six, sadder still because he was one of my heroes.
Now, the selection of heroes is a very personal thing, of course. One man's hero is another man's horse's arse, so to speak. I am - obviously - fond of my heroes, although I willingly accept that others may not agree with my choice. I have no problem with this, just as long as the insults don't get too personal.
However, I feel fairly confident that very few people would rubbish this particular hero, essentially because it would be difficult to find a man with less malice and arrogance in his soul, making him very, very difficult to dislike.
The book is called 'Did You Like That ?', and it was by the late and very much - lamented Fred Dibnah. If Fred had have had a list of his ingredients stamped on him, that list would have contained many of the ones that had put the 'Great' in Great Britain. Never an academic, Fred was tough, intelligent, modest and open. He also had, by his own admission, somewhat Victorian values, and I suggest that may not be such a bad thing. He was not, of course, perfect ('er downstairs informs me that neither am I - a great surprise!), and his obsession with steam-engines was an award-winning marriage wrecker, as I suppose, are all obsessions.
He was a natural teacher, possessing all three of the essential requirements; he knew what he was on about, he had a tremendous enthusiasm, and that enthusiam was contagious. He seemed to communicate in a way that many university lecturers can only envy. He were a good lad, were Fred.
Just rambling thoughts on a good bloke really, but I miss him, because he was so essentially English - as comforting as a whistling kettle and Sunday tea. I hope he's sitting on a great big chimney, with a pint of Guiness in his hand, watching the trains (steam, naturally), and chatting with some mates.
My first glimpse of Fred on TV was when a figure emerged from a dust-cloud wearing a flat cap and a manic grin, asking "Did you like that?"
We did.
Now, the selection of heroes is a very personal thing, of course. One man's hero is another man's horse's arse, so to speak. I am - obviously - fond of my heroes, although I willingly accept that others may not agree with my choice. I have no problem with this, just as long as the insults don't get too personal.
However, I feel fairly confident that very few people would rubbish this particular hero, essentially because it would be difficult to find a man with less malice and arrogance in his soul, making him very, very difficult to dislike.
The book is called 'Did You Like That ?', and it was by the late and very much - lamented Fred Dibnah. If Fred had have had a list of his ingredients stamped on him, that list would have contained many of the ones that had put the 'Great' in Great Britain. Never an academic, Fred was tough, intelligent, modest and open. He also had, by his own admission, somewhat Victorian values, and I suggest that may not be such a bad thing. He was not, of course, perfect ('er downstairs informs me that neither am I - a great surprise!), and his obsession with steam-engines was an award-winning marriage wrecker, as I suppose, are all obsessions.
He was a natural teacher, possessing all three of the essential requirements; he knew what he was on about, he had a tremendous enthusiasm, and that enthusiam was contagious. He seemed to communicate in a way that many university lecturers can only envy. He were a good lad, were Fred.
Just rambling thoughts on a good bloke really, but I miss him, because he was so essentially English - as comforting as a whistling kettle and Sunday tea. I hope he's sitting on a great big chimney, with a pint of Guiness in his hand, watching the trains (steam, naturally), and chatting with some mates.
My first glimpse of Fred on TV was when a figure emerged from a dust-cloud wearing a flat cap and a manic grin, asking "Did you like that?"
We did.
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