Vincent Tan Was Right
Yesterday, Cardiff City played in their traditional blue colours against Liverpool. So Vincent Tan is in some ways right, as Cardiff lost badly. Obviously, the shirts are not lucky, like red ones are.
There was a joke going Portman Road yesterday, that Mick McCarthy had been asked to be the next Cardiff manager. Apparently, he’d told Vincent Tan in his most polite Yorkshire-Irish way, that he wasn’t interested in the job.
You Don’t Say No to Suffolk
I don’t drink much spirit, but I do like the odd glass of whisky. So I was pleased that the new Adnams whisky is now available.
I first read about the availability of the whisky in this article in The Times. The article tells how it is illegal for spirit and beer to be made on the same site, due to a law dating from the 1700s.
What Adnams did is outlined in this paragraph from the article.
Although the law had never been repealed, Mr Adnams tested its validity by submitting an application to HM Revenue & Customs. “We got a reply in only three months saying yes,” he said.
No-one in his right mind, ever says no to an obviously sensible suggestion from supposedly sleepy Suffolk.
I’m looking forward to getting a bottle!
It may be a novelty to most of the world, but when I started drinking Adnams bitter, they only had thirteen pubs and supplied a few clubs in the local area.
The Scots will not be quaking in their boots yet, but then Watneys thought they could crush this then tiny brewery from Southwold, by buying many of East Anglian’s breweries, including all in Norfolk. Red doors are still associated with bad beer and service all over East Anglia.
It’s All A Bit Of A Doddle!
Many of those of my generation remember British Rail’s Red Star Parcels service with affection.
If you wanted to get a parcel from say Ipswich to London, you’d go to their office at Ipswich station, deliver the parcel and pay your fee, and it would be on the next train to London. The consignee would then go to Liverpool Street and collect the parcel later.
It worked well and was probably quicker than anything today, except for a courier taking a hig speed form of transport.
I remember in one instance, our McClaren baby buggy broke in about 1972. They told us to send it by Red Star to Derby, which we did. They repaired it and sent it back by another train the same afternoon.
Does anybody offer such customer service today?
Red Star is now long gone, but I was interested to see that Network Rail is introducing a parcel sending and receiving service called Doddle.
I doubt it would help me, as there isn’t a main line station close to my house. Unless it grows to use large Overground or Underground stations like Dalston Junction. After all, they could use the Ticket Office, when it closes.
But it would be an ideal service for those that pass through such a station on their way to or from work.
Will we see the like of Red Star again? I doubt it will come back everywhere, but on fully-crewed trains, it might return, as how else would you be able to get something really important from say Liverpool to London in under three hours.
Whoever thoght of the name; Doddle, deserves at least an OBE. But I suspect the man backing the scheme; Lloyd Dorfman, who might have thought of the name wouldn’t accept it, as he already has a CBE.
Mugged In My Own Shower Room
Ever since I moved into this house, I’ve moaned about the bathrooms. The en-suite shower room of my bedroom has got a lot of my anger, as every other time I clean my teeth, I bump my head on the cabinet above the basin.
Last night, as I went to bed, the awful cabinet bit back. I’d needed a new toilet roll and as one does, I keep them in the bathroom cabinet. But the catch is not the most reliable of devices and as I rose from the toilet, the door caught me on the head.
It only managed to extract a very small spot of blood.
My head has a very thick skull, but this morning, I do have a wound and a small amount of pain there.
It could have been a lot worse.
It’s another piece of bad workmanship and/or design to blame on Jerry.
I wonder if RIBA have a worst building prize.
Susanna Reid Makes A Confession
Susanna Reid on BBC Breakfast this morning confessed that she has a shopping trolley. I didn’t realise she was either obese or over sixty!
But she did say it was full of plastic bags!
Ronnie Biggs
His death is definitely not news!
Another Advantage Of My New Plumbing
I’ve just read the meter readings for the switchover to Ovo.
Before the new plumbing was installed, the electricity meter was half hidden behind the washing machine and to be read properly needed a step ladder.
Now I just walk into the cupboard, switch the light on and read the meter at eye level.
How did Jerry manage to get so many things wrong?
The readings I’ve submitted are 33235 and 0778257 for electricity and gas respectively.
Incidentally, this supplier changeover seems to be taking forever. I assume this has been designed into the system, to discourage people from changing. After all, if you could change instantly, that would drive prices down. I said why here.
Why Does Everyone Have To Fiddle?
I’ve just returned home and I wanted to get the football on quickly, whilst I put my shopping away.
But some idiot has decided that my Sky box needs updating with yet more features that I will never use.
Whilst I was getting round their unwanted help and demo, a goal was scored.
Luckily it was only scored by that prawn sandwich mob in red from Manchester, but it could have been scored by Aston Villa.
There’s an old adage, that says if it’s not broken, then don’t fix it!
The trouble with updates involving any form of computing or software, is that I’ve only known one person, who never created a bug when writing updates. On the other hand, they never delivered anything on time!
I’m Suffering From Mandela Fatigue
No matter what you thought of him and I liked him, the obsessive media coverage of the death of Nelson Mandela is now boring me stiff.
It was the same with Princess Diana’s tragic death. We were on holiday at the time of the funeral in Northumberland and I deliberately chose to go and sit on the beach by myself on Holy Island, to get away from it all.
Death is a personal thing and we all have our own ways of coping with grief.
I just get on with life, as there is no other positive thing to do.
I shall go for a walk by the river, have some lunch and then bring my shopping home and watch the football all afternoon.
I dread to think what fuss, we’re going to see, when some of the great and good of this world die. They’ll all be out to outdo South Africa’s borefest for Mandela.
The Anonymous Widower 