Silly Water Bottles
I very much dislike water bottles with teats. I got one on the train coming back from Hull.
Silly Water Bottles
So I’ve had a stroke and have a bit of difficulty sucking, but what’s wrong with a good old-fashioned screw cap?
A Plaque At Hull Station
Hull’s part in the emigration of Jews from Eastern Europe in the nineteenth centuries is told in this plaque at the station now called Hull Paragon Interchange.
A Plaque At Hull Station
The emigrants actually used special platforms to the south of the main station, as the authorities were worried about infectious diseases. My coeliac disease probably came from Askenazi Jews from Eastern Europe, but I suspect they came by a shorter route more directly to London, where my German-speaking ancestors worked in the fur trade.
A Good View from The Away Seats
This isn’t always the case. But yesterday, at the KC Stadium, this was my view.
A Good View from The Away Seats
It’s just a pity that Ipswich threw away a one-nil lead for the fourth time in succession.
Putting It Straight
I liked this sign at the KC Stadium in Hull.
Putting It Straight
No-one was smoking, so the message must be getting through.
Hull’s Hybrid Buses
Hull has ten Alexander Dennis Enviro400 hybrid buses.
Note that the transmission is by BAe Systems. See the Hybridrive web site.
The big beasts are showing interest in the field of efficient transport. That can only improve the introduction of more and better solutions.
Is Frankel The Greatest Ever?
Judging horses across the generations is a lot easier than judging footballers or even athletes, as everything is timed and analysed meticulously and available to everybody through Timeform.
I have not seen Frankel in the flesh and I only saw a recording of his win yesterday, as I was at the football. But he’s on the front page of many news websites today and I suspect his image will dominate the printed press.
BBC Radio 5 devoted a whole evening to the horse, which says something for his prowess, but is he the greatest racehorse ever?
I used to feel Brigadier Gerard was the greatest horse I’d ever seen, but he was a racehorse, who although great on the track didn’t really produce the progeny expected. He was also in a generation, where he raced against another great horse in Mill Reef.
Joe Mercer who rode Brigadier Gerard in all his races and has told the story, when after being in a plane crash, he wasn’t feeling the best, but still lined up on the horse. Normally, the horse pulled hard going to the start, but this day he didn’t. He came back gingerly looking after Joe and just pulled clear to win the race. He was one of those horses that liked to win. Some do!
In an article in The Times yesterday, this ability to run his own race and win was attributed to Frankel and not for the first time.
Will I see another horse better than Frankel? I doubt it!
My father might have disagreed, as he saw racing before the Second World War. He remembered Hyperion and felt he was the best he’d seen. The horse’s presence is still seen in equine pedigrees, fifty years after he died. His statue also has pride of place on Newmarket High Street.
But whatever you say about Frankel, spare a thought for Sir Henry Cecil, his trainer. Almost down and completely out a few years ago and battling cancer, he’s turned things around to give racing fans three years of pleasure. I’ll leave him the last word on Frankel.
“There has never been a better horse,” … “I love everything about him. He’s the best horse I have ever had. I’d be very surprised if there will be anything better.”
I just wish I’d been at Ascot yesterday, but tickets had been unavailable for months.
Greek Football Team Turns To Brothels For Sponsorship
I spotted this in one of the small articles in The Times yesterday. But the only place I can find it on the web is here on a New Zealand web site.
Here’s a couple of paragraphs.
Players on a cash-strapped Greek football team now wear pink practice jerseys with the logos “Villa Erotica” and “Soula’s House of History,” two bordellos it recruited as sponsors after drastic government spending cuts left the country’s sports clubs facing ruin.
Other teams have also turned to unconventional financing. One has a deal with a local funeral home and others have wooed kebab shops, a jam factory and producers of Greece’s trademark feta cheese.
But the amateur Voukefalas club – whose players include pizza delivery guys, students, waiters and a bartender – has raised eyebrows with its flamboyant sponsorship choice.
Times are obviously hard in Greece.
The Anonymous Widower 