Out Damned Rot!

On the way back from l'hotel des chats yesterday evening, having dropped off a very disgruntled Sir W who had had the beans spilled to him earlier in the day by a careless- tongued vet, I heard an infuriating item on Radio 4's PM programme. It was an interview with Richard Olivier, son of Laurence, who had nabbed himself a no doubt extremely lucrative gig at Davos giving management seminars based on Shakespeare plays. The one in question was formulated on the Scottish Play ie Macbeth and Lady M (vain, suggestible, reckless and full of hubris) bad; Malcolm (steady, loyal, risk-averse) good - a conclusion that surely could be drawn by any half-decent English Literature A Level candidate. Apparently there are others such as "The As You Like It Business Model" - well I b****y don't, especially when I think of all that wasted dosh which just goes to show what a criminal waste of resources this Swiss farce really is. At least Alistair Darling had enough sense to stay at home - either that or he was too ashamed, the UK recession now expected, by all except Moron Brown, to be the worst in Europe. So, my apologies to the man in the Renault at the Town Hall roundabout - I wasn't shouting at you, just howling at the moon.

It's the way you tell 'em...

There was consternation at CAB (Citizens' Advice Bureau) this week. A new "diagnostic" interviewing process is to be introduced whereby advisers split into 2 teams: the first team take down clients' particulars and diagnose whether their problem can be dealt with immediately or if they will need a more in depth consultation with a member of team 2. For some reason this new regimen has not found favour with the old guard, one of whom memorably described the process thus:
"So I ask them if a quickie is OK or would they prefer a longer session?"
I know CAB are always looking to expand their service but really...

When I got out of the swimming pool today, another "regular", a lady some years my junior, complimented me on my changing shape which she has been monitoring for some months. It is so nice to receive words of encouragement as few are forthcoming from Brian on this subject. Apparently I have let the side down by not retaining, at almost 55, the figure I had at 15 when we first met. But I am on a roll or more accurately losing one, as I have now dealt with the Texas/Christmas blip and am back on course to shed the final 10lbs of my initial target. To help me on my way, I have even started eating rice cakes (3 = 1 WW point) and although it is just like munching on polystyrene I am determined to stick with it. And before you ask me when I last snacked on a ceiling tile, let me tell you it's much the same as coffee which smells delicious and tastes like the bottom of an ashtray - just use your imagination!

Oh Bummer!

OK, hands up! Who felt a pricking at the back of the eyeballs while watching the presidential inauguration of Barack Obama on Tuesday? I'll certainly own up to that but, ever mindful of May 1997, was determined not to get too carried away. And there were just one or two false notes to help me keep my feet on the ground, not least the attempt of Bush appointee Chief Justice, John Roberts, to reduce the incoming president to the verbal infelicity of his former boss. Of course, Obama wasn't falling for that one and firmly closed the door on any possible constitutional wrangling by getting sworn in again properly today - that's our boy. And then we had the musical tributes, led by Aretha Franklin (wearing a startling piece of headgear which appeared to be a surely highly inappropriate, given the historical significance of the day, homage to Scarlett O'Hara's dear ol Mammy) singing not the American National Anthem as billed but a largely unintelligible song whose tune seemed to owe at debt to the national anthem of another country dear to our own hearts but once, as President Obama was pleased to remind his fellow Americans, a sworn enemy of the "States United". So much for the Special Relationship, then. And to round it all off an "original" instrumental piece by John Williams, featuring Itzak Perlman and Yo-Yo Ma in which one of the movements was, I swear, first cousin if not a clone of "Lord of the Dance". I do hope these little mis-steps are not a portent of what we may get rather that what so many hope and expect from the Obama administration. I really want him to succeed but can one man really put right so much that is wrong and not fall into the traps of hubris and complacency?

Not much news on the domestic front. Brian (and his shingles) have been away in Korea. Sir W and I have developed a very nice little routine although perhaps not so nice on his part:

Day 1 - fight black cat out the front

Day 2 - fight ginger cat out the back

Day 3 - as Day 1 but later on so She has to make an unanticipated public appearance in pyjamas and curlers

Day 4 - Stand on fence hurling insults at grey cat so She comes out in the rain and climbs precariously on garden chair sunk in gravel, arms outstretched while I slide down the other side and squat under next door's shed feeling smug and dry.

Days 5, 6, 7 etc - more of same.

U K shamed by Prominent Personality

No, it's not Prince Harry. I'm very much inclined to cut him some slack - that's the way boys talk to one another (and worse) and I don't believe any malice, racial or otherwise, was intended. At least, after yet another gaff, we need be in no doubt that Harry has inherited Prince Philip's genes and is therefore, without doubt, his father's son. But Kate Winslet - what were you thinking?! Cringe, cringe, cringe! And now you've cooked your goose as far as an Oscar's concerned - who could risk a repeat performance of such orgasmic embarrassment?

Why?? What!!

Why is Sharon Shoesmith (and others) suspended on full pay? What is Ed Balls going to do about it? When will we ever get these things right?

So.. George W's greatest regret of his presidency is the "intelligence failure" regarding Sadaam's WMD's 'cos otherwise, you know, he wouldn't have dreamed of invading Iraq.....

es un escandalo!

Was it xenophobia, patriotism or a strategic remark of Simon Cowell's ("proud to be British") which brought about the demise of Spanish rocker, the talented if jarringly named Ruth Lorenzo, on X Factor last night? Whatever the reason, it was a travesty given that, the stellar Alexandra Burke aside, we are left with the disappointingly one trick pony Diana Vickers who can't even hold a tune after her bout of laryngitis, well below average boring boy band, JLS, and Eoghan Quigg, an adolescent hobbit beloved of tweenies and grannies. If Alexandra doesn't win...well who cares? Brian and I are off to the States for a couple of weeks and by the time we get back the whole nonsense will be just so much recycling or, in these economically lethargic times, yet more landfill.

No One likes a Know-it-all

We have a new cat in our lives. Before you think Sir W has gone soft, the feline in question belongs to Daughter (and Boyfriend) Number 3 and therefore resides at a safe distance in Brighton. She is jet black and slinky and called Circe (pron. ser-say) after the sorceress in Greek mythology and not Fur Face, as initially and erroneously reported by Brian. When we met for the first time last weekend I immediately noticed that something was amiss with her right eye, an apparently malicious suggestion which was greeted with universal disdain. Last night Daughter and BF 3 shelled out £40 at the Vet's for eye drops and were placed on cat flu alert.

Last week I was urged to watch the Tuesday edition of Egg Heads because the new(ish) wife of the ex-husband of a good friend was one of the challengers. She Who Is not to be Admired and her team put up a good showing which impressed my mother-in-law who seemed strangely disinclined to believe that I, too, had known all the answers (who doesn't know about "langues de chats" yawned Sir W).

I have another good friend (believe it or not) who recently waxed lyrical on the gratification of being old enough to know everything. Well, at some 12 years her junior (a fact which, despite an otherwise razor-sharp intellect, she invariably manages to "forget") I sometimes feel I have reached a similar level of omniscience but without the universal acclaim. Of course, I haven't routed any builders or got the whole street a significant reduction on their Council Tax so I am not a local hero and, my recent CAB training aside, never expect to be. However, a little more appreciation from ones' own family members (Sir W excepted) wouldn't come amiss especially from Brian who, for the first time in 32 years of marriage, has taken to "popping" home at lunch time and daring to complain about the "state" of the house. Today, when leaving with a flea in his ear, he tripped over of the three pairs of his shoes which have been gracing the hall for the past 2 weeks. Perhaps my efforts are not going entirely unrecognised after all.