So its here at last the first weekend of the 2007 RBS Six Nations Rugby Championship. The sun is shining and there are the usual mixed feelings of expectations, dread, anxiety and excitement. For the 2 ~ 3 hour period the rest of the World will not exist and all attention will be fixed on the ritual leading up to the game, the game and finally the post match analyses - excuses, praising, looking forward to the next match.
One of the lead items on today’s news bulletins is the indefinite suspension of all football matches in Italy, following the killing of a policeman at a match between two Sicilian teams. Hooliganism has been the curse of the sport for decades. How different from rugby. While punches might be thrown, the odd ear bitten or testacies squeezed on the rugby field, each teams supporters will coexist in harmony. Unlike football, there is no segregation of supporters, they commingle, drinking, singing, and teasing each other in the common joy of being present at the game.
Supporters will plan for months, their trips made every two years to Dublin, Cardiff, Edinburgh, Paris, Rome and Twickenham. Each venue having its own very distinct characteristic. Once experienced never to be forgotten the singing at the Millennium Stadium Cardiff - worth a 7 point start to the Welsh team. The Sunshine of Rome. The Welcome of Dublin. The colour and camaraderie of Edinburgh. The brass bands and flying chickens of Paris. The impregnable citadel that is Twickenham.
Last minute flights, buses on motorways, special trains all heading to three locations for the first three games. Today:
England vs. Scotland
Italy vs. France
And tomorrow Wales vs. Ireland.
While winning the championship is the objective, there are a number of subplots. Today England and Scotland will be playing for the Calcutta Cup donated in 1879 by expatriates serving in India. The Home Nations will be aiming to win the Triple Crown, beating the other three countries, and then there is the ultimate Grand Slam, winning all five games. This year there is the added interest of the World Cup to be played in September and October; the Six Nations Championship will be an indication of how well prepared each team is to take on the awesome might of New Zealand.
So much for looking forward. The time has come to put the computer into hibernation, switch on the TV and watch the first game Italy vs. France. Will Italy be able to continue the improvements made each game? Will France be able to recover from a very disappointing show against New Zealand in the autumn?
Italy could have taken an early lead but missed two penalties. France dominated the scrums and lineouts but Italy put up a strong defence until France scored a breakaway try. Italy nearly countered with a try, but a forward tried to score himself rather than pass the ball out to two waiting Italian backs. Following another try for France and penalty for Italy, the score would have been 17 - 3 to France at half time but for a further French try exactly on the 40 minute, giving a half time score of 22 - 3.
Within five minutes of the start of the second half France scored their fourth try. There followed a further try and penalty. The final ten minutes of the game saw Italy make slug like progress from the halfway line, but the French defence was more than adequate to hold the unimaginative Italian attack.
The French dominated the game but with Italy being so disappointing it was difficult to judge how good the French were. The final score was Italy 3 - France 39.
In front of an 82,000 crowd at Twickenham, after ten minutes play England opened the score with a penalty. Scotland came back with a penalty before Jonny Wilkinson put over a drop goal. After a period of probing kicks by Parks, Scotland scored off an England lineout. With the score 6 -10 in Scotland’s favour, the try should have given impetus to Scotland, however England came back with two penalties. In the 36th minute Jason Robinson crossed over in the corner for a try, giving a half time score England 17 Scotland 10.
Two minutes into the second half Scotland scored a penalty. This was followed by two penalties by England - which highlighted the danger of giving away penalties in your own half when Jonny Wilkinson has his kicking boots on. Jason Robison was then gifted a second try making the score England 30 - Scotland 13. In the 66th minute Harry Ellis made a spectacular break passing the ball to Wilkinson - the try was given even though the action replay showed that his right foot was in touch. A further English try followed before Wilkinson was substituted in the 73rd minute. After being out of international rugby since 2003 and having only played 40 minutes of first class rugby Wilkinson’s return was beyond anybodies wildest dreams. Scotland scored a consolation try in the 77th minute to make the final score England 42 - Scotland 20.
While the English performance was a vast improvement on their autumn efforts, it was mainly due to a strong pack providing a platform for Wilkinson’s boot and inspirational play.
Saturday, 3 February 2007
Friday, 2 February 2007
Internet Message Boards
What is it about BBC message boards that make people want to return to them, day after day. Even boards that do not cover subjects of interest have a particular allure.
Close knit communities develop around some Boards; strangers post there at their peril. It’s the equivalent of the deathly silence that envelopes a bar when a stranger walks in. Yet back they go to see what the conversation is about. No, actually that isn’t correct. In most cases there isn’t a conversation. Most of the posters are in transmit mode with the received function inhibited. There is no exchange of views, its individuals trying to prove how clever they are, or bitter and twisted middle aged men trying to get rid of their angst. Then there are the bored housewives seeking attention, much safer seeking solace on the internet than being screwed by the milkman - not that there are many milkmen left.
That’s another thing supermarkets can be blamed for. Selling milk at such a low price not only drives farmers to the point of bankruptcy, but has put hundreds of dairies out of business. There must be thousands of British housewives sexually frustrated as the result of the closure of dairies - no milkmen to flirt with of the front door step. So in the absence of milkmen housewives turn to the internet for their titillation, cheeky conversation.
Then there are the board secretaries in their office, looking blankly at their computer screen, feeling very adventurous if they post on a board. With luck they can strike-up a dialogue with a lonely gay window dresser, all perfectly innocent - just “girl” talk.
Specialist Boards, particularly Religious or New Age - attract the self appointed Gurus, who pontificate to their imagined devotees. The only entertainment provided by these Boards occurs when there is a clash of Gurus. Then religious piety is thrown out of the window, replaced by venomous abuse.
How the human race has changed, from hunter gatherers working collectively as a tribe, to lonely individuals with only a computer keyboard for company.
Close knit communities develop around some Boards; strangers post there at their peril. It’s the equivalent of the deathly silence that envelopes a bar when a stranger walks in. Yet back they go to see what the conversation is about. No, actually that isn’t correct. In most cases there isn’t a conversation. Most of the posters are in transmit mode with the received function inhibited. There is no exchange of views, its individuals trying to prove how clever they are, or bitter and twisted middle aged men trying to get rid of their angst. Then there are the bored housewives seeking attention, much safer seeking solace on the internet than being screwed by the milkman - not that there are many milkmen left.
That’s another thing supermarkets can be blamed for. Selling milk at such a low price not only drives farmers to the point of bankruptcy, but has put hundreds of dairies out of business. There must be thousands of British housewives sexually frustrated as the result of the closure of dairies - no milkmen to flirt with of the front door step. So in the absence of milkmen housewives turn to the internet for their titillation, cheeky conversation.
Then there are the board secretaries in their office, looking blankly at their computer screen, feeling very adventurous if they post on a board. With luck they can strike-up a dialogue with a lonely gay window dresser, all perfectly innocent - just “girl” talk.
Specialist Boards, particularly Religious or New Age - attract the self appointed Gurus, who pontificate to their imagined devotees. The only entertainment provided by these Boards occurs when there is a clash of Gurus. Then religious piety is thrown out of the window, replaced by venomous abuse.
How the human race has changed, from hunter gatherers working collectively as a tribe, to lonely individuals with only a computer keyboard for company.
Tuesday, 30 January 2007
Google Earth
In my last blog I quite rightly ranted about the distinctly unuser friendly nature of some computer programs. They freeze up your computer and give no indication of whether they are working or not. Then at the end you find out the bloody thing wasn’t working at all.
So I’m really delighted to sing the praise of a program. I found it purely by chance, often the best way. Serendipity can bring joy into your life. I was looking for a free download program to burn DVDs, when I came across reference to Google Earth.
Firstly Google Earth needs broadband connection - if you don’t have broadband, do not read further, because you will only feel disappointed and frustrated at not being able to access the program.
What does it do? Using satellite photographs the program constructs a global image of the Earth. The first image you see is the Earth rotating in space. Enter your home address into the search box, click and watch the Earth rotate then zoom in on your house.
The final image does depend on your location. London is so detailed that you can zoom in to see people walking on bridges across the Thames. While the image of East Wales is on par with that of London, West Wales is fuzzy - but nevertheless even relatively small geographical features can be identified.
Not only can you zoom in but you can also tilt the image to replicate the view of flying over the surface. 3D models have been constructed of some locations. Click on the 3D feature, then select to tour Manhattan Island- fly up Broadway dodge between the skyscrapers. Visit India then zoom off to New Zealand.
Added features which makes Google Earth a brilliant educational tool, are photos of locations posted by users. Links to Wikipedia to provide background information. A community has grown up around the program, with enthusiasts building 3D models of buildings and geographical features.
If you prefer travelling beyond the confines of the Earth, you can download Celestia which will enable you to tour the Universe.
So I’m really delighted to sing the praise of a program. I found it purely by chance, often the best way. Serendipity can bring joy into your life. I was looking for a free download program to burn DVDs, when I came across reference to Google Earth.
Firstly Google Earth needs broadband connection - if you don’t have broadband, do not read further, because you will only feel disappointed and frustrated at not being able to access the program.
What does it do? Using satellite photographs the program constructs a global image of the Earth. The first image you see is the Earth rotating in space. Enter your home address into the search box, click and watch the Earth rotate then zoom in on your house.
The final image does depend on your location. London is so detailed that you can zoom in to see people walking on bridges across the Thames. While the image of East Wales is on par with that of London, West Wales is fuzzy - but nevertheless even relatively small geographical features can be identified.
Not only can you zoom in but you can also tilt the image to replicate the view of flying over the surface. 3D models have been constructed of some locations. Click on the 3D feature, then select to tour Manhattan Island- fly up Broadway dodge between the skyscrapers. Visit India then zoom off to New Zealand.
Added features which makes Google Earth a brilliant educational tool, are photos of locations posted by users. Links to Wikipedia to provide background information. A community has grown up around the program, with enthusiasts building 3D models of buildings and geographical features.
If you prefer travelling beyond the confines of the Earth, you can download Celestia which will enable you to tour the Universe.
Sunday, 28 January 2007
Dysfunctional Computer Programs
I have a USB Digital Video box that I plug into my laptop to view TV programmes.
The trouble is it comes with a totally incomprehensible manual. I think it was written in Chinese then translated into Korean before being translated into an obscure language which didn’t have words for relevant instructions then finally translated into English by a non-English speaking translator. In other words its crap.
So it was quite an achievement to get the dam thing to work. It does have a feature to record programmes, and allegedly a program to convert the recording into a format which will allow it to be recorded on DVD. I say allegedly because it doesn’t #*!^ work.
Some months ago I recorded a TV program I would like to keep, but as it is taking up a hefty chunk of hard drive I would like to record it on a DVD. I sought the help of Technical Experts on a message board, who advised me to download a burner program. Downloaded the program, again it came with, being generous, terse instructions. But the thing that really pisses me off with the program was it had no indication if it was working or not. I clicked on the start button, and the only thing that gave any indication that anything was happening was a flickering blue light on the laptop. Not only did the bloody program not give any indication of whether it was doing anything, but it froze up the computer so that it prevented it from doing anything but blink. Two hours later it kindly informed me it was transcoding. Two hours later it said it was Building a DVD image, what ever that might be. Two hours later, (yes I sat there for over six bloody hours), the screen showed the desktop background and nothing else. No short cut icons, zilch. What the #*!^ was happening. Ten minutes later the desktop opened, and would you believe it the DVD burning program wasn’t running. I wasted over six hours of my life on a dysfunctional #*!^ computer program.
If anybody reads this, and you know how to record a MPEG2 file onto DVD then please let me know.
The trouble is it comes with a totally incomprehensible manual. I think it was written in Chinese then translated into Korean before being translated into an obscure language which didn’t have words for relevant instructions then finally translated into English by a non-English speaking translator. In other words its crap.
So it was quite an achievement to get the dam thing to work. It does have a feature to record programmes, and allegedly a program to convert the recording into a format which will allow it to be recorded on DVD. I say allegedly because it doesn’t #*!^ work.
Some months ago I recorded a TV program I would like to keep, but as it is taking up a hefty chunk of hard drive I would like to record it on a DVD. I sought the help of Technical Experts on a message board, who advised me to download a burner program. Downloaded the program, again it came with, being generous, terse instructions. But the thing that really pisses me off with the program was it had no indication if it was working or not. I clicked on the start button, and the only thing that gave any indication that anything was happening was a flickering blue light on the laptop. Not only did the bloody program not give any indication of whether it was doing anything, but it froze up the computer so that it prevented it from doing anything but blink. Two hours later it kindly informed me it was transcoding. Two hours later it said it was Building a DVD image, what ever that might be. Two hours later, (yes I sat there for over six bloody hours), the screen showed the desktop background and nothing else. No short cut icons, zilch. What the #*!^ was happening. Ten minutes later the desktop opened, and would you believe it the DVD burning program wasn’t running. I wasted over six hours of my life on a dysfunctional #*!^ computer program.
If anybody reads this, and you know how to record a MPEG2 file onto DVD then please let me know.
Friday, 26 January 2007
Becoming brain dead
A five month old baby comes to stay, and your whole life is changed.
Five month old children have a very limited repertoire they: eat, shit, puke, cry and laugh. All very simple, but that laugh is so powerful. More affective than any argument a great orator can produce. And the smile can melt hearts.
I now appreciate why parents and grandparents become brain dead in the presence of their offspring. A child runs around being disruptive, and the mother has a look of joy on her face:
“Look at my wonderful child, isn’t he so clever and funny, never been a child like him before, absolutely perfect”, “Why are people so intolerant? My child is doing no harm, he’s just shouting, screaming and running around, that’s what children do.”
Taking my granddaughter for a walk in her pram, I caught my self thinking,
“Look at her, isn’t she perfect? Look at her smiling at you".
My whole ethos as a grumpy old fart is challenged, I find myself mutating into a doting grandparent. There is only one known antidote; I have to get myself to a supermarket to scowl at young mothers and their pesky kids.
But lets be fair, unlike al those brats, my granddaughter is so perfect, even when she puked over the carpet it was a joy to watch.
Five month old children have a very limited repertoire they: eat, shit, puke, cry and laugh. All very simple, but that laugh is so powerful. More affective than any argument a great orator can produce. And the smile can melt hearts.
I now appreciate why parents and grandparents become brain dead in the presence of their offspring. A child runs around being disruptive, and the mother has a look of joy on her face:
“Look at my wonderful child, isn’t he so clever and funny, never been a child like him before, absolutely perfect”, “Why are people so intolerant? My child is doing no harm, he’s just shouting, screaming and running around, that’s what children do.”
Taking my granddaughter for a walk in her pram, I caught my self thinking,
“Look at her, isn’t she perfect? Look at her smiling at you".
My whole ethos as a grumpy old fart is challenged, I find myself mutating into a doting grandparent. There is only one known antidote; I have to get myself to a supermarket to scowl at young mothers and their pesky kids.
But lets be fair, unlike al those brats, my granddaughter is so perfect, even when she puked over the carpet it was a joy to watch.
Thursday, 18 January 2007
Speechless
Yesterday was the first time in my life that I was truly struck dumb.
At about 11.30 am the door bell rang, I opened the door to see a baby in her pram abandoned in front of the flat door. My mind went into a whirl trying to identify possible reasons for a baby to be left in front of the door, the only logical conclusion was it had been left outside the wrong flat, and the mother had gone to get something from a car.
But . . . . but there was something very familiar about the baby. Then I heard some giggling from around the corner by the lifts. My daughter and son-in-law poped their heads around the corner.
You might ask why I didn’t recognise my own granddaughter. My excuse/reason:
We had only seen her soon after she was born and that was four months ago when she was only one month old. Believe me there is a big difference between a one month and a five month baby. Also we had spoken to them the day before and they had said they would phone on Friday on my wife’s birthday. I should add that they do not live in the UK, so we only get to see each other once or twice a year.
So to see the three of them before me, rally struck me speechless.
Subsequently we found out, my wife and I were the only members of the family who didn’t know about the visit. The flights had been booked five weeks ago, and all the family sworn, on the penalty of retribution, to secrecy.
What a brilliant surprise and no better birthday present than a visit of your first grandchild.
At about 11.30 am the door bell rang, I opened the door to see a baby in her pram abandoned in front of the flat door. My mind went into a whirl trying to identify possible reasons for a baby to be left in front of the door, the only logical conclusion was it had been left outside the wrong flat, and the mother had gone to get something from a car.
But . . . . but there was something very familiar about the baby. Then I heard some giggling from around the corner by the lifts. My daughter and son-in-law poped their heads around the corner.
You might ask why I didn’t recognise my own granddaughter. My excuse/reason:
We had only seen her soon after she was born and that was four months ago when she was only one month old. Believe me there is a big difference between a one month and a five month baby. Also we had spoken to them the day before and they had said they would phone on Friday on my wife’s birthday. I should add that they do not live in the UK, so we only get to see each other once or twice a year.
So to see the three of them before me, rally struck me speechless.
Subsequently we found out, my wife and I were the only members of the family who didn’t know about the visit. The flights had been booked five weeks ago, and all the family sworn, on the penalty of retribution, to secrecy.
What a brilliant surprise and no better birthday present than a visit of your first grandchild.
Tuesday, 16 January 2007
Doctors
General Practitioners (GPs) now earn on average £120,000 per year. I gather the level of pay rise they received was all a mistake. They were meant to get 2% but got double. Because they were only going to get a 2% pay rise, as compensation the Government agreed to cut their working hours. As it turned out they doubled their salary and halved the hours they work.
In the good old days GPs’ really earned their salary. Morning and evening surgery, house visits during the day and call outs during the night. As a child I dreaded visiting the Doctors surgery. In those days they didn’t have an appointment system, you had to wait your turn. Quite a complicated process in a practice with seven doctors. First you had to identify who was waiting to see the same doctor, and your position in the queue.
“Are you waiting to see Doctor Williams?”, “No”,
“Are you waiting to see Doctor Williams?”, “Yes”.
“Good, then I’m before you and after that man sitting over there”.
Going to the surgery was like being sucked into a Black-hole, you really never knew when or if you would get out again.
But as I said in those days Doctors really worked hard. A Doctor was even more than being ‘Your Doctor’ he, and it was predominantly he, was ‘the Family Doctor’. He would have been there at your birth, when you had measels, mumps and chickenpox. If you had been taken ill at 2.00am he would be there uncomplainingly to comfort you.
How things have changed. Now you are never sure which doctor you will see. Yes you can make an appointment to see a specific doctor, but you will have to wait up to a week or more. Go to the surgery,
“I’d like to make an appointment to see Dr Blake”, “He’s away for four weeks holiday”.
Phone up to speak to him, “sorry he doesn’t work on Thursdays”. If you do manage to see him, the treatment you get, well I call it treatment, is laughable.
“Well I see you had no problem climbing up the stairs to see me”.
“Can’t be anything serious”.
“If things don’t improve in three weeks, make an appointment to see me again”
“If you get pain, take an Asprin”.
“Goodmorning, send the next patient in”.
What happens to those patients who cannot climb the stairs to the doctors consulting room? Simple, the receptionist gives them a list of Funeral Directors.
Two o’clock in the morning, gasping for breath, at deaths door, you phone the doctor. An answering machine gives you a telephone number of an agency who provides out of hours cover. You phone, give your symptoms. Your given a choice:
You could insist that the doctor makes a house call. Three hours later he turns up, gives you an Asprin and tells you to go and see your own doctor in the morning.
I suppose I should be grateful I can still climb the stairs to the consulting room.
In the good old days GPs’ really earned their salary. Morning and evening surgery, house visits during the day and call outs during the night. As a child I dreaded visiting the Doctors surgery. In those days they didn’t have an appointment system, you had to wait your turn. Quite a complicated process in a practice with seven doctors. First you had to identify who was waiting to see the same doctor, and your position in the queue.
“Are you waiting to see Doctor Williams?”, “No”,
“Are you waiting to see Doctor Williams?”, “Yes”.
“Good, then I’m before you and after that man sitting over there”.
Going to the surgery was like being sucked into a Black-hole, you really never knew when or if you would get out again.
But as I said in those days Doctors really worked hard. A Doctor was even more than being ‘Your Doctor’ he, and it was predominantly he, was ‘the Family Doctor’. He would have been there at your birth, when you had measels, mumps and chickenpox. If you had been taken ill at 2.00am he would be there uncomplainingly to comfort you.
How things have changed. Now you are never sure which doctor you will see. Yes you can make an appointment to see a specific doctor, but you will have to wait up to a week or more. Go to the surgery,
“I’d like to make an appointment to see Dr Blake”, “He’s away for four weeks holiday”.
Phone up to speak to him, “sorry he doesn’t work on Thursdays”. If you do manage to see him, the treatment you get, well I call it treatment, is laughable.
“Well I see you had no problem climbing up the stairs to see me”.
“Can’t be anything serious”.
“If things don’t improve in three weeks, make an appointment to see me again”
“If you get pain, take an Asprin”.
“Goodmorning, send the next patient in”.
What happens to those patients who cannot climb the stairs to the doctors consulting room? Simple, the receptionist gives them a list of Funeral Directors.
Two o’clock in the morning, gasping for breath, at deaths door, you phone the doctor. An answering machine gives you a telephone number of an agency who provides out of hours cover. You phone, give your symptoms. Your given a choice:
- Take an Asprin, and hope you survive until the morning, to go to the surgery.
- Call an ambulance to take you to an A&E Department, there you wait 4 hours to see a doctor, who tells you to take an Asprin, and go and see your own doctor.
You could insist that the doctor makes a house call. Three hours later he turns up, gives you an Asprin and tells you to go and see your own doctor in the morning.
I suppose I should be grateful I can still climb the stairs to the consulting room.
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