Weather for a Sail?

If we are to engage in an outside activity we may well take a look beforehand at the weather forecast. Having seen the forecast we may abandon the outing because of the likelihood of rain, hail, snow, fog or strong winds. That has happened to me a few times this year. Today was a case in point when I had hoped to have a sail. The main deterrent was predicted heavy showers.
Before going for a sail I usually look at the following web sites: http://www.burnhamoncrouchweather.com/ (Burnham-on-Crouch Weather); http://www.xcweather.co.uk/ (UK Wind Map); http://news.bbc.co.uk/weather/ (BBC Weather). This morning, the BBC predicted there would be showers during the afternoon, and the Burnham Weather Station gave a 20% chance of rain. The Wind Map indicated there would be a Force 3 from the SW during the morning and Force 2 in the afternoon. The wind was not a problem, but my intended crew of three knows nothing about sailing, and the business of tacking up the River Crouch with them tending the sheets was not an inviting prospect, especially when there was a high possibility of heavy showers. Furthermore, the crew did not have suitable protective clothing. I therefore called off the venture.

Postscript
This afternoon there were a few heavy showers and the biggest gust recorded at the Burnham Weather Station was 29.0 mph which makes me feel right about my decision to call off the outing. One of my potential crew members generously occupied his time by trimming the fir trees at the bottom of my garden while the others went to the cinema.

I hope this unsettled weather will take a turn for the better, although that seems unlikely because the hurricane season has brought forth its first tropical storm in the Caribbean and the Florida Panhandle, and as I write, hurricane Bill is bringing rain to Bermuda.

Shopping

Unless you live on a desert island that supplies all your needs, inevitably you’ll have to shop to survive. Here in the UK there has been a marked decline over the years in the number of stores selling essentials and luxury goods in our High Streets and Town Centres. With the ever increasing out-of-town facilities such as Bluewater in Kent and Lakeside in Essex, smaller local businesses have been hard-pressed to compete. Unless they specialise in commodities not generally available at mega-outlets, they have difficulty in making ends meet. During the economic downturn they are really up against it.

People will patronize stores where prices are low and where they can find value for money i.e., supermarkets such as Tesco, Sainsbury’s, Asda, Waitrose, or Morrisons. Furthermore, these superstores provide free car parking, often with their own filling stations, along with the convenience of being able to trolley bulky items to the boot of the car. Some offer a chance of social gathering at their restaurants or cafés and most of them have toilets, including toddler facilities.

As firms like Wooworths fail, the supermarket giants are quick to claim their ground and set up complementary stores such as Tesco Extra. How can small businesses compete? We plebeians, the ordinary shoppers, have little option, other than to patronize the supermarket of our choice, and how loyal we are too! Even in these sparse times, few of us change our allegiance. We keep our loyalty cards and seek every opportunity of using them to gain points for discounts and money vouchers. The grip that our favourite supermarket has on us is quite astonishing. The marketing machine watches our every purchase, and we are sent offers through the post encouraging us to part with our money.

Today my wife and I did our weekly shopping, as usual at Tesco. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but I was staggered at the bill. Just now we have relatives staying with us, which has meant an increase of more than £30 to the normal tally. I’m not grumbling, simply observing, and another observation is the origin of some of the commodities. The pears were grown in Argentina and the bananas came from Colombia – that’s just not global-friendly in terms of carbon footprints, and yet we bought them. Had the choice not have been there we would have been quite happy to purchase local products, but I grant you, bananas do not grow well in Essex! Maybe we could have done without the bananas and even the pears. On the other hand supermarkets should not shirk their responsibility of reducing the adverse affect of carbon emissions by choosing goods and suppliers that require less consumption of fossil fuels.

I believe people cherish the convenience of large malls and supermarkets, and they shop at them so habitually that buying commodities elsewhere is no longer considered an option. The clock cannot be turned back to the days of individual service at a variety of High Street stores. As the supermarkets become increasingly dominant they will gain more and more control over our lives, even offering financial services similar to banks and building societies. The more they control us, the more powerful they will become, and yet none of the anonymous highly paid magnates who manage them are elected or chosen by us. Shareholders are contented as they grow richer and richer, even in these times of restraint.

Who Dares Wins

When did you last receive a challenge in the form of a dare? I suppose I was probably about 9, and I can’t exactly remember what the dare entailed, but I can recall being a member of ‘Our Gang’ when we challenged each other to collectively ‘raid’ a recuperation centre for children who had been injured during the war. These unfortunate youngsters had not been evacuated from the cities and taken to places of refuge before becoming victims of air raids; consequently they suffered the traumas of injuries, and perhaps they had lost brothers, sisters or parents. We, as children being brought up in the comparatively safe environment of the Somerset countryside had little understanding of what these youngsters had gone through.

‘Our Gang’ was a territorial group of juveniles who opposed a similar gang from nearby. There was no real malice towards our ‘enemies’. We simply enacted psychological warfare. I can’t remember the two gangs actually drawing blood in a conflict, but we were an intimidating lot. We armed ourselves with Hazel and Ash poles that resembled javelins, and we ran about like a lot of wild Indians.

On this particular day of the dare we plucked up courage to make an attack upon the Centre where these children were housed. The first individual dare was for someone to creep up the long path to the front door; then press the imposing brass knob on the end of a plunger that made the bell ring. A braver person than me took up the challenge, while the rest of us hid behind the trunks of trees that surrounded the requisitioned manor. Having carried out his dare he quickly scampered to a nearby bush. Seconds later a tall, matronly lady dressed in a red nurse’s uniform appeared at the door. After a brief moment, and with an expression of puzzlement, she retired behind the closed door. Five minutes later another brave warrior repeated the dare by pressing the brass knob. Out came the lady again. This time the colour of her face resembled the colour of her uniform.

Discretion being the better part of valour, we retreated to the cool shadows, under trees beside a pond, a few hundred yards from the mansion. There we laughed and celebrated our victory which was short-lived. Our lookout made a high-pitched cry of, ‘Copper! ‘Let’s scarper!’ I was the smallest and youngest member of the gang which meant I could not keep up with the bigger boys, and by the time I had climbed halfway up the iron fence the others had vaulted, I felt the strong hand of a rotund policeman grabbing my belt.

Well, allegiance was thrown out of the window, and it was only a few minutes later that the Man in Blue had all the facts; whereupon he vowed to visit the parents of the miscreants. In due course we all faced the consequences of stern admonitions from our parents and never went near the place again.

In these times of the Afghanistan conflict I am reminded of the valiant efforts and dedication of the Special Air Service whose motto is, ‘Who Dares Wins’. By attempting to win, some brave souls have lost their lives, but there are no winners in warfare and those who dare to make peace may win the battle of hearts and minds, as with the relative ‘peace’ of Northern Ireland.

Political Correctness

I came across this statement somewhere on an Internet forum: Political correctness is a form of neurosis and a curb on free expression in a world of hyper sensitivity and over reaction. Have you noticed that in many instances it operates on a one-way basis only?

Well, when I was a kid there was no such thing as political correctness, or at least this was my naïve understanding. The word ‘nigger’ had no connotations of inferiority or connection with slaves or people who lived in mud huts; it was simply understood as a word to describe a person whose skin was dark and of African origin. I never heard of the word ‘Paki’ until years later, and for me there was no inference of derogation, although I now realise the use of the word may have offended some Pakistanis. Being called a Brit or a Limy would not have offended me. Even being called a ‘nerd’ would not cause me offence. A person’s skin has to be a lot thicker than that. As long ago as I can remember, I was taught that, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.’

The situation here in the UK is quite different today. We are repeatedly reminded that we live in a multi-cultural, multi-faith ‘community’, and that this ‘country’ is no longer a bastion of Christianity, having laws mainly based on Christian principles. European Human Rights legislation has changed the political climate to the extent that our representatives in Parliament are afraid to speak plainly; instead they have to consider every word that passes their lips. Indeed, ordinary citizens have to watch their words because they might be considered as being prejudicial, discretionary, inequitable, anti-egalitarian, or plain offensive.

Words must always be considered within their contexts for a true understanding of their intended meaning. Expression and import can place an entirely different meaning to the conventional dictionary definition. Over-sensitivity to what is said or written is a form of nervous disorder, and those who suffer from it can take affront where none was intended. In this age of anti-discrimination and claims for compensation one is on tenterhooks, walking a tightrope while having lips zipped in case a slip is made. Plain commonsense no longer prevails.

Surely we need to grow up and accept that the world is not a fair place where equity rules, because it never has been, nor ever will be, even when the Lord Jesus reigns during His Thousand Year Kingdom.

Bill’s Way

Frank Sinatra is remembered for his song, ‘My Way’, the lyrics of which express his attitude to life. Without a doubt he exercised his willpower towards doing things the way he thought best. He admits that occasionally he took on more than he could chew, but he boasts of continuing through to the end, and he felt proud about it. In the last verse he likens himself to a boxer, a tough guy who would not give in when under attack; instead he worked through the rounds his way. If defeated, there was no one to blame except himself, and if victorious he could stand tall because he did it his way.

Here are the lyrics:

“And now, the end is near,
And so I face the final curtain.
My friends, I'll say it clear;
I'll state my case of which I'm certain.

I've lived a life that's full -
I've travelled each and every highway.
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets? I've had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course -
Each careful step along the byway,
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew,
When I bit off more than I could chew,
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried,
I've had my fill - my share of losing.
But now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that,
And may I say, not in a shy way -
Oh no. Oh no, not me.
I did it my way.

For what is a man? What has he got?
If not himself - Then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way.

Yes, it was my way.”

Well, I felt a bit like ‘Ol’Blue Eyes’ today, because I took on the job of cutting down a rotten tree that had roots lodged under the foundations of my garage. The only tool I had that could make any impression on the very hard Laburnham was a small chopper, but by exercising my will to achieve the end, I did it my way. I can’t say I could stand tall at the end, or be proud of my achievement. If I had done it the way my wife suggested, i.e., hire a chainsaw, I would have done it in a fraction of the time and I would have been able to stand up afterwards!

Most Valuable

MVP can mean ‘most valuable player’ or ‘most valuable professional’. Annually Microsoft nominates their most valuable professionals, and by definition they are ‘exceptional, technical leaders who share their expertise with technical communities’. These professionals are not necessarily employed by Microsoft, but they contribute to the development of their products and systems. Indeed, Microsoft uses these talented, inspired technicians when they are associated with user groups, code camps, MVP Global Summits, conferences and training sessions.

The term ‘most valuable player’ is typically applied to a person who contributes most to a team’s success, either at a specific event or during a series. Managers overseeing soccer, rugby, cricket or other teams may nominate MVPs as a means of motivating, encouraging or rewarding team members.

How MVPs are singled out will depend upon the judgement of those choosing the nominees, but they must use criteria for assessing the value of a team member. In the case of a football player, he may not have scored a goal during a game, but his brilliant passing of the ball resulted in others scoring.

The pertinent questions to ask are: “What is valuable?” and ‘What is most valuable?” If we apply these questions to ourselves, what do we come up with? In answer to the first question, anything of value has worth. A ten pound note is of little worth to an ocean rower thousands of miles from land, but to a motorist whose car is just about to run out of petrol, it is worth a great deal - especially if his car is close to a filling station, and ten pounds worth of petrol will get him home!

In answer to the second question, value is inevitably related to circumstances, and an item or an action of most value must be related to a specific circumstance, e.g., if I need to change the sparkplug of my outboard motor because it is fouled up with oil, but I do not have a sparkplug spanner, instead, I have a Mole Grip that will do the job, the Mole grip is the most valuable tool I have.

So, what are the answers to our questions, when applied to us? In my case, valuable items, circumstances and people are those that help me live a useful and fulfilling life, but the most valuable is my relationship with Jesus. Why is this? It is because He has shown me the essential element of life, here present and in the hereafter: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word of God.” (Luke 4:4)

The Sun Stood Still

At this time of year in the northern hemisphere the sun rises early and sets late. Here in the UK the sun rises just before six and sets about a quarter past eight; that’s about fourteen and a quarter hours of daylight. I habitually wake as the sun rises and more often than not go to bed between ten thirty and eleven o’clock at night. That gives me seventeen hours for doing those things that need to be done and other things that I want to do.

This evening, as I took my post-prandial walk I was amazed how long my lumbering shadow was as it kept pace with my every stride. The spindly shadow exaggerated my height and resembled a moving Giocometti figure. For some reason the hovering sun just did not want to set, but very, very slowly it reluctantly dipped beyond the rooftops, radiating pink and purple hues, while golden tints and acid yellows reflected from high mare's tails suspended motionless in an endless, aqueous blue. A bright star, like a priceless diamond, sparkled, enthroned in heaven above.

What a fitting end to the day this was, a day when so many things were accomplished, and I wonder how they could all have been fitted in. I was reminded of Joshua’s battle on the day the sun stood still. After speaking to the LORD he said before Israel: “Sun stand still over Gibeon; And Moon, in the Valley of Aijalon.” (Joshua 10:12)

When God responds to prayers He can perform mighty miracles, so don’t underestimate the power of ardent prayers.

Good Sail

I had a good sail today. Low water was roughly 1230, and the plan was to beat up the River Crouch from Rice and Cole towards Fambridge, then return against the incoming tide with the South Westerly helping us along. Before setting out I used the garage broom to scrub the fuzz off the bottom of the boat. This was easily done in about 10 minutes from the dinghy by using the side of the dinghy for levering the broom against the yacht’s hull.

After having morning coffee I prepared ‘Ladybird’ for sailing and shipped the new Honda 2.3 outboard. It was 1130 and the wind had backed to the South, which was ideal for a fine reach to Fambridge. As shadows were cast on the water from the clouds, wind gusted to the cool spots causing problems for the Autohelm; therefore I had to steer. I felt a bit peckish, so I ate an early lunch as I steered with my leg over the tiller.

At around mid-day the wind backed to the South East and it eased somewhat, which caused me to change my plan. Instead of going to Fambridge I would need to work the boat to the East, because both wind and tide were coming from that direction.

Having sailed along the South side of the moorings via the dredged channel to a point beyond Rice and Cole, we arrived at the widest part of the River. There, the wind veered, which caused me to free the sheets to prevent the boat from gybing. Continuing to the East, my next plan was to sail into the River Roach for beam reaching on the starboard tack. I reckoned there would be enough wind to enable me to return against the incoming tide, but as I steered a course into the Roach a short distance from the Branklet Spit Buoy, the wind veered to the South West. I therefore gybed the boat towards the Crouch, but as I did so, the jib sheets snarled together and the wind increased to about a Force 4. By using the Autohelm I had time to untangle the sheets and set ‘Ladybird’ on the port tack for returning to Rice and Cole. Although both the mainsail and the jib were reefed, ‘Ladybird’ heeled to the gunwale in the gusts, and the wind continued to increase. I needed to get back to the mooring quickly because the wind could increase further, and being on my own, picking up the mooring could be tricky. A couple of hundred yards from the first of the moorings I started the motor and took in sail. Tiny, as the Honda 2.3 is, the little engine had enough power to push the yacht against a good Force 5, with the help of the incoming tide. I steered a looped course between the moored yachts to bring the boat head to tide, with the wind from astern. That enabled me to reduce the boat speed before picking up the mooring.

When my yacht was shipshape and securely tied to her mooring I made myself a refreshing cup of tea. After stowing the engine and locking up, I rowed the dinghy to the Rice and Cole floating pontoon. All in all, I had a jolly good sail.

The Importance of Love

Yesterday I wrote with some passion about the nature of love, and from what I had to say on the subject, you may gather that I thought love was very important. Without love the world would be a poor place, certainly in terms of human relationships, both in a limited sense between individuals and in the broader sense of global relationships. Apart from eternal salvation through the saving grace of Christ, I can think of nothing more important than love. If hate were the most dominant desire of human beings there would indeed be little hope for their survival, but survival alone is not the important issue, for all material things are subject to decay, including our bodies. What is important about our love is the motivation behind it, the spiritual factor, i.e., the ingredient that generates our heart to engage in the practice of love. Our desires are important, particularly our hopes and aspirations for the effectual outpouring of the love in our hearts. How can people be the recipients of our love? Surely they can know of it and receive it by our words of comfort, words of support and reassurance, but most importantly by our actions.
“Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time: effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.” Germaine De Stael

Love

Love is a misunderstood word, and yet probably more songs and poems have been written with love as their theme than any other subject. I feel convinced that if you were to ask Joe Bloggins what he thought love is, he would reply that love is a sexual act. If you were to ask a married mother what love is, she might describe it as caring for her husband and children. This aspect of love brings us closer to the altruistic meaning, which is selfless ‘giving’ without expectation of reward.

The Greeks in biblical times used three different words to describe aspects of love: Eros, for sexual love; phileo for ardent affection, as one may love a brother or a very special friend, and agapao, being goodwill to the extent that a man may give his life in exchange for another’s, as Jesus laid down His life on a cross. This is the love that Christians should have for one another. The same word is used in 1 John 4:8 to describe the essential nature of God.

When we love someone we may forget to tell them, but it’s so important within a relationship to say the words. Actions and gestures are not enough. The other person needs to hear these words of assurance. Are we negligent of telling our partners that we love them? Do we give them hugs of reassurance and speak words of encouragement? If we do, we are partners in love, both in the agapao and the phileo sense, which we all need. Now, there’s a time and a place for the eros expression of love which is divinely blessed for the procreation of children, and as an act and expression of a deeper love for ones partner.

Sadly, in our times, youngsters are not taught the sanctity of marriage and the special relationship between a man and his wife, where sexual relations are shared only between the two. We now have the base extreme where young people undertake sexual acts which they record as digital images for display and exchange via their mobile phones! They call it ‘sexting’. How lewd and indecent is that? And what hope is there for them when it comes to understanding real love and virtue?

Please parents, teach your children to love in the fullest sense, by example, with agape love, i.e., Godly love, the love that really cares and counts. (1 Corinthians 13:13)

Thinking

I have a lot to be grateful for, because of what the Internet has on offer. This vast library of knowledge is there like fruit on a tree waiting for us to pluck what is ‘good’ for our wellbeing, i.e., our spiritual, mental and physical health. If we have wisdom we shall choose golden fruit that will build us up, not only for our benefit, but for the wellbeing of all. I recently chanced upon one such golden apple that I examined, chewed and found to be nutritious. It could be nutritious for you too, providing you chew the chunks that are useful for achieving your objectives.
James Allen (1864-1912) succeeded in having nine books published, the most influential being, ‘As a Man Thinketh’. In it he presents the proposition, “As a man thinketh in his heart so is he.” These words come from the first half of Proverbs 23:7, but note that they are placed within the context of associates or friends, and they are to make us aware of their motivations, because associates or friends should be chosen wisely. In the Forward of his book, James quotes, “They themselves are makers of themselves.” These two aphorisms are interrelated, because a man’s thoughts reveal and mould his character. According to the author, people can escape from difficult circumstances or unpleasant environments by having positive, creative thoughts leading to actions which may require perseverance and effort to bring about success, e.g., if someone is fat who wants to be thin, they must think positively and act in accordance with their desire.
What intrigued me about his book was the importance of correct thinking for successful outcomes. James maintains that what you see of a man - his appearance, disposition and his acts - reflect his thoughts. But who actually knows, apart from the man, what his thoughts have been or what they are? If they could be known, surely his thoughts would mirror his interests: his delights, his passions, his lusts, his hates, his aspirations etc.. Would any of them have been unworthy? Would he rather people not know his thoughts? Would any of his interests have been out of keeping with his public profile?
Have you ever looked intently at your ‘Favourites’ or ‘Bookmarks’ lists lodged on your computer? Do they represent your interests and your frequent thoughts, your passions, likes and dislikes? Delve a bit further and examine the hard drive of your computer where your interests and thoughts may be recorded, perhaps some placed in the trash bin. Are you happy with what you find?
Maybe we could all learn a few lessons from James Allen? On my part I have learnt a few things, and I can recommend a read of his short book which is free online at:http://jamesallen.wwwhubs.com/think.htm , but remember, it’s what YOU think is important, not what others think of you.

Smiling for Ever

This is how Mr and Mrs Analogue Tick-tock used to look because they were rejected by Miss Alarming Belle, a woman of the world, who falsely said she loved them. She was the flirt who dusted and wound them up every Sunday and set their alarms. She had been seduced by Mr Electronic Age who worshipped Big Computer, Heir Apparent of Cyberspace, whose doctrine was, “Intel Chips are good and Apple Macs are bad!” Having been brainwashed into believing digital clocks were superior, Miss Alarming Belle gladly received gifts of two golden digital clocks from her deceitful lover. She then tricked Mr and Mrs Tick-tock into living in the Land of Suspended Animation where they were unhappy because they no longer ticked, and together they turned down the corners of their mouths. Without hope they lay untouched on a dusty shelf while their colours faded, until one day Shiny Star, the Real King of Cyberspace who did not worship Big Computer or succumb to Electronic Age, zoomed in from the Land of Pearls of Wisdom. There he lived with Super Nova, the Real Big Bang, who was his father. His purpose was to expose the false doctrines of Big Computer and his cohort, Alarming Belle, and to bring new life to those in the Land of Suspended Animation. He explained that chips were bad and apples were good. Mr and Mrs Tick-tock believed, and convinced many to have faith in Shiny Star who had left the Land of Pearls of Wisdom to give them new life. They told all those who wanted to hear why Shiny Star had to fade away until he no longer shone, but had to die so that they would live. They explained that his father loved him so much that he made him brighter than any shining star and beamed him back to the Land of Pearls and Wisdom to be with him and millions of pearly stars. At the very moment the Tick-tocks believed and trusted in Shiny Star, Miss Alarming Belle’s golden digital clocks stopped, and she was frozen for ever on the screen of her laptop. By contrast, the Tick-tocks glowed with colour as their hearts beat and their smiles were like the rising sun. In due time, Big Computer, the false god and Deceiver of Cyberspace, along with Alarming Belle received their just deserts when Shiny Star threw them into the everlasting trash bin of fire where they were consigned together with a load of rotten chips, but the smiling Tick-tocks lived happily ever after in the Land of Pearls of Wisdom with Super Nova, Shiny Star and millions of pearly stars.

Robert Owen

Robert Owen is credited with this saying, "All the world is queer save thee and me, and even thou art a little queer."
Robert was a philanthropist and socialist reformer who believed the world would be a better place if children were educated, cared for and encouraged. To discover more about this man who made a difference in the 19th century for the wellbeing of many, visit any of the web sites set out below. His influence and vision continues today.
In 1841 he wrote these words:
"It is therefore, the interest of all, that every one, from birth, should be well educated, physically and mentally, that society may be improved in its character, - that everyone should be beneficially employed, physically and mentally, that the greatest amount of wealth may be created, and knowledge attained, - that everyone should be placed in the midst of those external circumstances that will produce the greatest number of pleasurable sensations, through the longest life, that man may be made truly intelligent, moral and happy, and be thus prepared to enter upon the coming Millennium".
Sadly, Robert had little tolerance for religion, contending that those who practised their beliefs were fanatical bigots and miserable hypocrites, and yet near the end of his life he embraced Spiritualism.
http://www.robert-owen.com/
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/IRowen.htm
http://www.robertowen.org/index.php
http://robert-owen-museum.org.uk/
http://www.historyguide.org/intellect/owen.html
http://www.infed.org/thinkers/et-owen.htm
http://www.newlanark.org/kids/index2.html

Global Mindset

Will a global mindset regarding the consequences of global warming be possible, and if so, is it too late to bring about an effective change to the production of anthropogenic greenhouse gas concentrations? Al Gore’s film, ‘An Inconvenient Truth’* rams home the point of view that there is a very limited period for success, and it spells out the dire consequences of mankind’s failure.
I am usually of an optimistic disposition, but on this issue wherever I look in my local area I see so little response by way of people actually doing anything to make a difference to the emission of greenhouse gasses. If I am Mr Average Essex Man I use my ancient car every day of the year, i.e., 365 times a year to do approximately 11,000 miles, which works out at 30.14 miles a day. That means it belches out lot of carbon dioxide. Records show that a cow emits by belching and farting between 80kg and 120kg of methane a year, which is equivalent to the annual carbon emissions of an average family car. Both carbon dioxide and methane gas cause global warming, and added to that, wetlands throughout the world are by far the biggest producers of methane emissions.
Our puny efforts at recycling are insignificant by comparison, and the fast industrializing of emerging countries such as China and India can give little hope. Vast quantities of coal are used in these countries, with the consequential pollution of the atmosphere. Animal species are becoming extinct at an alarming rate and we are seemingly powerless to do anything about it. Well meaning people like Roz Savage* who is currently rowing the Pacific and headed for Tuvala, an island that will disappear when the waters of the oceans rise, makes her case for conservation and preservation of the world’s oceans. Like Al Gore she is passionate about all of us making a difference. I only wish I could share their enthusiasm and believe as they do that by creating a world-wide mindset which leads to action, mankind would prevail.
*http://www.rozsavage.com *http://www.climatecrisis.net/trailer/

Ironing

Before
After




You either love it or loath it. For many housewives ironing is something that has to be done, and it is therefore seen as a drudge - a part of the necessary housework. Hubby could not possibly go to work in a crumpled shirt. Turning up at the office wearing a pair of trousers that look as though they have been trampled on by a herd of stampeding horses is just not on, but nice creases that look like sharp steel blades presents the right image for the man who wants to get ahead, one who has get-up-and-go. All this is far from the mark today. Hubby dresses down by turning up for work in a shabby pair of jeans while wearing an open neck shirt. He has designer’s stubble and his hair is spiked with gel. The truth is that if there is ironing to do, the man had better do his own, or else it doesn’t get done, and in some households, unless he does the lot, even the kiddies’, he’ll be lucky to have a hot meal ready for him when he arrives home, shattered with the stress endured because it’s been a tough day.
If you are a man who lives in Australia, Italy or Iran, you probably don’t know what an iron is, but if you live in the UK, you most certainly do. When I was a boy back in 1944 my mother did the ironing. It was the job of a married woman, known as a housewife. Her ‘job’ was to do the housework. I can remember my Mum heating a solid flatiron on the gas stove before it could be used to set creases into starched linen. Round about that time the first electric irons could be found in the shops. They were pretty primitive things, having only a simple thermostatic control. Unlike modern irons they did not have steam and spray mechanisms, neither did they have anti-friction surfaces, or with more expensive versions, separate steam generators. Ironing boards have remained much the same, except it possible to buy suction boards that hold the items to be ironed to the board while they are being ironed. To me, that seems an unnecessary complication - something that can go wrong, especially as some washing machine softeners contain an ingredient that slightly adheres items being ironed to the board.
I actually enjoy ironing, providing there is not too much to do. An average wash for my wife and me can be done within an hour, perhaps 45 minutes. When ironing I find my mind is free to think of all manner things. The process is very therapeutic, and the automatic actions required for ironing provide gentle exercise for my arms and back muscles. I must admit that I wasn’t keen on ironing my uniform when I was in the Royal Artillery doing National Service between 1955 and 1957. That was a chore, because I served in a training camp which meant I had to keep my gear spick and span to impress trainees. I had to undergo weekly inspections, just like the trainee servicemen. If my trousers didn’t have creases resembling knife blades I was reprimanded by the Serjeant* Major.
My advice to any young lady is, do not marry a man unless he owns an iron and enjoys ironing! Only if this is the case, will the two of you be happy.
*When I was in the Army the spelling of ‘Sergeant’ in the Royal Artillery was ‘Serjeant’, because it was the Senior Regiment, but I understand that ‘The Rifles’ also spell ‘Serjeant’ with a ‘j’ instead of a ‘g’.

In the Night Garden

‘In the Night Garden’ is one of the programmes for young children produced by the BBC for their CBeebees productions. I came to know of, ‘In the Night Garden’, because my grandchildren watch the show and they have soft toys representing the cartoon characters featured in the stories. It’s a magical wonderland where the imagination can run riot. Both children and adults can be enthralled with the antics that the characters get up to while exploring and playing in a beautiful garden where there are lawns, trees, bushes, boulders and even a cave. The main characters are Upsy Daisy and Igglepiggle who are friends. Others, such as Makka Pakka, the Tombliboos and the Pontipines play their parts in the action. There are plenty of jolly songs, funny noises, squeaks and whistles to enhance the colourful presentation, and while new stories unfold the youngsters learn basic phonetics and counting skills.
The official BBC web site for ‘In the Night Garden’* has plenty of interactive games that familiarise parents and children with the characters, and there are even a couple of scenes that can include webcam photos of those who take part in the interactive fun. I know, because I’ve seen myself riding in one of the carriages of a train-like vehicle called Ninky Nonk. I forgot to say there’s also a Zeppelin-type balloon that glides to and fro; I think its name is Pinky Ponk. You can even have a flight inside Pinky Ponk with Upsy Daisy while the airship rocks from side to side making you feel quite queasy.
Well, you can tell I’m amazed at what I’ve discovered, and now I can join more fully in the fun with my grandchildren as they play with their soft toys: Upsy Daisy, Makka Pakka and the Tombliboos. Don’t tell them, but I’ve recorded the songs of these characters on my mobile phone so that I can surprise my grandchildren when I next share with them.
* http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/inthenightgarden/

Vehicular Personality

Does your car reflect your perceived persona and does it have a personality that matches yours?
As a broad generalization it has been said that owners of dogs resemble their pets. For an example, do you remember the famous 60s TV Chunky Meat advert featuring Sir Clement Freud and his bloodhound Henry? www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmiwNxuRJbA With a bit of imagination you can see the resemblance between Clement and his dog – I’m not meaning to be disrespectful here. Likewise with a bit of imagination a few modern cars when viewed from front-on have characteristics resembling the physiognomy of creatures such as beetles, dogs, sharks and jaguars. Headlamps may represent the animal’s eyes; grills may resemble noses, and bumpers may be imagined as gaping or grinning mouths.
I feel sure designers of cars are not ignorant of the subconscious desires of potential owners to want a car that is in keeping with their perceived persona. A person’s choice of car can say such a lot about the owner, and to this end, manufacturers provide add-on features for personalizing vehicles. Ford, in particular offer an extensive range of options including body colour, interior trim, fascias and exterior fittings. Some 4x4 vehicles, because of their physical characteristics look very threatening; for example, the latest BMWs have headlamps with circular rings of light around their main reflectors and these have the appearance of glowering eyes. Other cars have features associated with aggressive wild animals such as the Great White Shark, whereas smaller cars, like the reincarnated Beetle, look less intimidating and they are perhaps reminiscent of ladybirds or frogs. Without being too chauvinistic I could suggest that cars with rounded features and tinted colours may appeal to women, but cars with angular forms and bold colours may more appropriately appeal to men.
How does your car match you’re your perceived persona? Are you just too poor to consider the matter, and maybe you don’t even own a car! But for sure, my 9 year old Ford Mondeo matches my purse and it fulfils my transport needs. Most likely it matches my persona too, and if it resembles any creature I would liken it to a slug!

Butterflies

Butterflies are widespread throughout the green areas of the world and each variety is dependent upon the flora needed for their sustenance. At this time of year in my part of the world, the South East of England, on fine sunny days there’ll be a good chance of seeing the Large White butterfly. These delicate creatures are seldom alone and several of them can often be seen flitting from garden to garden. They settle with their pale saffron wings in an upright position and occasionally they’ll spread them out while basking in the sunshine.
Another very common species is the Peacock which has coloured patterns reminiscent of a peacock’s feathers. These beautiful butterflies love to perch on buddleia where they sip the nectar.
A few days ago I was walking beside the River Crouch when I saw several Large White butterflies and a couple of Peacock butterflies evading the wind by taking advantage of a lee behind a flood prevention bank beside salt marshes. There growing on the bank was a variety of grasses, thistles, nettles and small flowers where the butterflies miraculously flitted without being entangled in the waving grass and vibrating stems of the flowers.
The camera of my mobile phone could not do them justice, but I took photos of them as a reminder of their beauty and of the occasion. Next time, I’ll take my Sony digital camera in the hope that I’ll be able to obtain better photographs. Meanwhile I’ll use images of the Large White and the Peacock butterfly I found via Google, and hereby give Google the publicity and credit for them. If you don’t use Google as a Search Engine, I recommend you do, and if I have infringed their copyright, I apologise here.

Happy Birthday

If it is your good fortune you may celebrate many birthdays and enjoy longevity of life. As I walked down my driveway today there was a colourful banner attached to the garage door with the words ‘Happy Birthday’. The greeting was for my eldest daughter. I was returning from the morning church service and I knew the celebrations had begun. The day before the party, cooks had been hard at work preparing various curries and tasty sweets. This was a day to enjoy and a day for thanksgiving. The sun shone and all was well. A Great Grandfather and a wonderful Great Nanny had a fine treat as we shared with our family and revelled in their company. Later that evening we chatted via the miracle of Skype video with our daughter and granddaughter who live in Italy so that they could share some of the fun. Maybe the celebrants of today’s joy will all have longevity of life and share many happy birthdays. That would be our wish and prayer. (Psalm 127:3 – 5)

Ranting

Definitions change over the years and I believe ranting has a different meaning today than when I was a boy. My understanding of ranting is more akin to the definition in the Oxford Concise English Dictionary: ‘to speak or shout at length in a wild, impassioned way’. When you’ve heard enough ranting you’re inclined to say, “Oh stop going on! For goodness sake, shut up!” That’s especially the case if you are not sympathetic to the rant. I always think of ranting as being a way of getting something off your chest. It doesn’t matter if no one is listening. What’s important is to express what is bugging you. In that way you off-load your annoyance or irritation. Some people may feel it is improper to rant in the first place, but I suspect that even if they do not rant publicly, they rant inwardly. Maybe it’s a kind of therapy.
As a Christian, I suppose I should not rant by letting off steam; rather I should keep the matter to myself and perhaps pray about the situation. I only wish that were the case and that I had that sort of self-discipline, but in truth I do not. This morning I found myself doing a relatively low-key rant to my wife as we travelled by car to her favourite out-of-town shopping centre. She wanted to get hold of some special birthday presents. My rant wasn’t about the time spent in motoring to the Centre, or the cost of the petrol being used to reach the place and make the return journey; no, it was about ‘other drivers’.
Isn’t it odd? It’s always the ‘other’ driver who is at fault. When you are behind the wheel you are faultless, but the other guy or lady is useless, stupid, thoughtless, selfish, half asleep or under the influence of drugs. Well, this morning whatever I did, however I drove, there was always a driver up my tail. If I drove at the regulation speed limit of 70 mph on a two-way carriageway, sure enough, someone was intent on having their car’s front bumper only a few inches from the back bumper of my car. That’s despite the fact that the A13 near the approach road to Basildon is marked with chevrons and there’s a big notice beside the road informing drivers to keep a distance of two chevrons between vehicles for safety reasons.
On our way home, after a successful, spending spree, I decided to take a route that crosses the A127 to avoid road works in Rayleigh, and after negotiating a roundabout, what did I see in the mirror? Some guy driving a black sports saloon that looked like Batmans’s Batmobile. This maniac was intent on shoving my ancient Ford Mondeo right off the road into the gutter where he thought I should be. The bumper of his car could not have been more than a foot from the tow ball sticking out the back of my car. I didn’t need telepathy to know what Batman was thinking, and since I’m a considerate, polite driver, I moved into the left-hand lane; then I didn’t see a sign of his car after a few seconds because it disappeared beyond the horizon like a flash of lightning. Progressing where it had gone, I thought I might see pieces the car and parts of the driver’s body impaled on a group of trees beside the road, but by the grace of God, that was not the case.
The proximity of Batman’s Batmobile to the boot of my car and the speed taken by it while jetting to the horizon caused me to rant to my wife who maintained silence. She could well have been asleep, but that didn’t matter because what was import was for me to rant. Oh, how I wish I had prayed instead. (1 Thessalonians 5:17, 18)

Nokia E71

(This is a backdated entry I meant to post several months ago, but never got around to doing it. Also see Thursday 17th July 09 where there’s a photo of my mobile phone.)

I received a Nokia E71 mobile phone as a birthday present, and what a brilliant device it is! One thing I am able to do with it is to prepare articles for my Blog. This is relatively easy, because it has an external keypad. I find the phone is better than my Asus EEE laptop, because although both gadgets have WIFI, the E71 can also access the Internet by using the phone network - providing there is coverage. Additionally the battery life of the E71 is considerably longer than the Asus. My network provider happens to be 3UK, but I don’t think the coverage is as widespread as Vodafone; nevertheless, it is generally sufficient.

Yet another advantage of the E71 is its portability, since it easily fits in my pocket. This phone is not just any old phone, because unlike most others, it has a GPS with mapping facilities and voice-guided navigation for use on the road. Being able to communicate by the spoken word, by text and by email, makes this device a very valuable piece of equipment, especially when cruising aboard my small yacht. I can also use the phone for taking photos and for making short videos. Because it was bought outright, the only additional charge is for making calls. I can text and browse the Internet entirely free, so long as I pay for a new lot of calls when my credit runs out.

From the above, you've probably gathered I'm a 'Happy Blogger!'

Weather Forecasts

We have our favourite weather; some like it hot, others like it cool, and the great thing about the English weather is that’s for ever changeable. The English so much enjoy discussing the weather and Thomas Hardy was no different. Here is his poem, ‘Weathers’.
This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly:
And the little brown nightingale bills his best,
And they sit outside at “The Travellers’ Rest”,
And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,
And citizens dream of the south and west,
And so do I.

This is the weather the shepherd shuns,
And so do I;
When beeches drip in browns and duns,
And thresh, and ply;
And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,
And meadow rivulets overflow,
And drops on gate-bars hang in a row,
And rooks in families homeward go,
And so do I.
Hardy transports us into the spring and then the autumn; his preference being for the period of regerneration when the chestnut tree produces its spiky fruit, young birds are on the wing and maidens blossom, while people dream of their summer holidays. He’s not so keen on the autumn that foreshadows winter where he paints a picture of browns and duns; a time likened to the gathering of rooks associated with funereal black when there’s an end to life.
The great British Meteorological Office, now based at Exeter, publishes long range forecasts upon which people put their hopes. Businesses can flourish like the spring if the forecasters get it right, or they can go bust if they get it wrong. This year the forecast was for ‘a drier and warmer summer than average’, but oh, they got it so wrong (except for a few days of Wimbledon) and now predict for August a month of average rainfall. Many of us had high hopes for gorgeous sunny days when we could have done our favourite outdoor thing, whether lounging on a beach, trekking the Lake District, playing cricket or just a bit of gardening.
My wife is really disappointed, and said she would have preferred that no long term forecast had been given. I’m sure many of us feel the same, but I’m reminded of the limitations of our ability to forecast the weather by these words of Jesus, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes.” (John 3:8) Even with all the sophistication available to our expert weathermen in their state-of-the-art purpose-built accommodation with one of the most powerful computers dedicated to the task, even they cannot know for certain.
http://www.metoffice.gov.uk/
Meteorological Office

Good Sail

On the spur of the moment I went to the boat this morning. The forecast was for a south westerly wind between force 3 and 4, and low water was 11.47. There could be a faint possibility of a shower. I wasn’t sure if I would go for a sail, but I wanted to try the new Honda 2.3 outboard. Sure enough it started on the second pull and it continued running nicely at tick over. Seeing the engine was an air cooled one, I didn’t have to keep checking for a copious stream of cooling water, as was the case with my old Mercury engine. I took in several rolls on the mainsail, and under power left the mooring, then I steered to the south bank were there was a bit of a lee. There I unrolled a small portion of the foresail and stopped the engine. The wind was more from the South than the South West as expected, which made sailing against the last of the ebb easy. I let the Autohelm take control of the tiller and lifted the outboard out of the water.
The Squib fleet and the tiny Optimists were out racing by the Crouch Yacht Club as we headed up the River to the West. To windward the ‘Celtic Warrior’, a coastal freighter, was having her cargo of wood unloaded by a spindly looking crane. A dark cloud passed overhead that sprinkled a light shower, but the sky soon lightened and it wasn’t long before the sun came out. The wind eased, so I sat back and relaxed while eating my lunch as my crew friend the Autohelm willingly looked after the boat. Apart from a Drascombe Dabber with tanned sails, ‘Ladybird’ and I had the Cliff Reach stretch of the River to ourselves. There isn’t much of a red sandstone cliff there, but lined with trees it’s quite picturesque. The electric train travelling from Burnham in the direction of Fambridge rattled along the line and gave a cheerful toot.
The next stretch of the River turned a little more to port which meant ‘Ladybird’ was fine on the port tack for most of the time, with the occasional starboard tack to make up to the windward side. A few gusts had me taking over the steering because my faithful Autohelm could not cope. Just short of the Fambridge moorings I gybed the boat and headed Eastwards into the oncoming flood tide, but the wind was sufficient to give us good speed over the ground as we broad reached. A rather fine double ended steel Dutch yacht painted in blue made her way up river under power and two other yachts flying Dutch ensigns followed. I had seen the trio at Heybridge when walking there the Saturday before last.
Back at Cliff Reach ‘Ladybird’ overtook a small cruiser towing an inflatable dinghy and ahead I could see other yachts coming my way. Adjacent to Wallasy Island, by Essex Marina, I let the Autohelm steer the boat as I took down the mainsail and started the outboard. I misjudged the strength of the flood tide, but the outboard coped at low throttle. (When running in an engine of this type it is necessary to keep the revs low for about 10 hours before changing the oil to avoid undue piston wear.) Picking up the mooring was quite easy, despite the increase of wind from the South. As soon as the boat was securely tied to the buoy, I made a welcome cup of tea before stowing odds and ends prior to rowing the dinghy to the Rice and Cole floating pontoon. Three quarters of an hour later I was at home being entertained by three of my delightful grandchildren. Oh, the joy of retirement.

Dog Fouling

There’s a notice outside my house that reads, ‘This area is designated under the Dogs (Fouling of Land) Act 1996 NO FOULING clean up after your dog. Offenders will be reported for prosecution. Maximum Fine £1000 Rochford District Council’.
Well, I must say that since the 1996 Act of Parliament making dog owners responsible for cleaning up after their dogs was applied 12 years later by my Local Council, the area where I live is a cleaner place. Rochford District Council applied the Act in August, 2008, and since then there have been far fewer dogs doing their droppings on the patch of grass outside my house. The majority of dog owners take their responsibility for complying with the law seriously. Only today, I noticed an elderly gentleman retrieve a dollop deposited by his dog on my neighbour’s front lawn. Out of curiosity, after he had left the scene, I examined the spot where the possible criminal offence could have taken place, but I could not find any evidence for supposing his dog had defecated. That’s good news for my neighbour, because it’s unpleasant when cutting a lawn to have to push the mower over a stinking deposit, or remove the stuff beforehand.
Just up the road from my house there’s a children’s play park where my wife and I take our grandchildren, and I’m pleased to say that the park is an area subject to a local byelaw that bans dog from entering it. There’s a foot grating at the entrance to prevent stray dogs from gaining entrance.
In nearby Southend-on-Sea there’s been a lot of debate about restrictions preventing dog owners from taking their dogs on the beaches during the summer months, and the Borough Council employ a Dog Warden who is responsible for following up cases that could lead to prosecutions, especially if dogs foul the beach. The Council can enforce a fine of up to £5000 for the offence in an area where it is not permitted and the Council’s costs for bringing the case to Court may be added to the fine.
One of the problems with prosecutions is obtaining valid evidence from witnesses who are expected to provide the date and time of the incident, the location, the person’s details, the dog’s details and if a vehicle is involved, the vehicle’s registration number. Photographic or video evidence is most valuable in proving an offence. Not only must the evidence be obtained, but the witness or witnesses must be willing to attend Court.
I am not a dog owner, but I can understand and sympathise with them when they are subject to the law and I am pleased with the way the majority have responded to the Dogs (Fouling of Land) Act, 1996. Three cheers to them, and thumbs up!