I'm becoming increasingly irritated by the near-beatification of David Beckham.
An FA official this week described him as a marvellous role model for young people, when he explained the decision to recruit Beckham to hand over England's World Cup bid.
We must be desperately short of role models if we have to recruit this tattooed buffoon.
Do we really want to recommend to our children the example of an individual who is progressively deforming himself for his own amusement?
Presumably his association with the England World Cup squad in South Africa in a "coaching" capacity is a cynical step on along a path towards justifying the award of an honour to him.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Hush hush
Our landline number was once assigned to a café, and occasionally, we receive a call from someone who has found it on a database. Usually, it's a salesman who wants us to switch our electricity supply to his company.
A call I received at 10.15 this morning, however, was different.
A woman who refused to identify herself said she was trying to trace a former employee of the café.
When I asked who she was, she demanded to know who I was.
Eventually, she said she was from a "government agency" but refused to specify which one.
Of course, she could have been a debt chaser, but I felt she was telling the truth.
If so, I find it very sinister that government employees are authorised to make anonymous telephone calls to private homes, demanding information.
What purpose do they serve by such subterfuge? An individual with a less robust personality than mine could find such an experience upsetting.
A call I received at 10.15 this morning, however, was different.
A woman who refused to identify herself said she was trying to trace a former employee of the café.
When I asked who she was, she demanded to know who I was.
Eventually, she said she was from a "government agency" but refused to specify which one.
Of course, she could have been a debt chaser, but I felt she was telling the truth.
If so, I find it very sinister that government employees are authorised to make anonymous telephone calls to private homes, demanding information.
What purpose do they serve by such subterfuge? An individual with a less robust personality than mine could find such an experience upsetting.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
A tale of two teas
We were out walking twice last week and unusually, on each occasion we stopped at an eatery en route.
On Thursday, we covered about 10-11 miles from Thornton-le-Dale, along forest tracks to Low Dalby, then went by footpaths up and over the valley side into Howldale, to follow the dale into Pickering, and back to Thornton.
Although, as always, we had a flask and lunch with us, we decided to stop at the Purple Mountain cafe in Low Dalby, a business that seems to be associated with the cycle hire firm there.
Our £2.60 paid for two teabags in hot water in a dirty tea pot, which produced the most horrible brew I've tried in a long time. Add to that the presence of a cat that kept jumping on the table in an attempt to get at the milkjug, and I left feeling distinctly unimpressed.
On Sunday, we had just a short walk - four miles or so - from the Falcon Inn on the Scarborough-Whitby road, through forest and fields to The Grainary, a cafe at a farm that has diversified into offering lodgings and plant sales, then back along farm tracks and through forest.
This time, we splashed out on a toasted teacake each to accompany our pot of tea - a total of £4.40.
Of the three females front of house, two seemed to have taken advanced courses in miserableness. The first, older one stared right through me when we wandered in.
Signs directed visitors to order at "reception" or "the till" but as this location or locations was/were not evident, I asked a second female for directions.
She ignored me and walked on.
When I found the till/reception (which seemed to be the same spot) the second female quickly appeared and took my order.
The tables were shared around two gloomy rooms and a conservatory, all of which provided mind-numbing tuneless 1980s-style muzak as background annoyance, and an outdoor courtyard, which was music-free, but offered little protection from the drizzle.
We settled for the conservatory, which, we discovered too late, had the disadvantage of its juxtaposition to the toilet, the door to which offered little aural insulation from the activities associated with the facility.
Our tea, which was perfectly acceptable, was served quickly, but a 25-minute delay in providing two toasted teacakes seemed excessive, especially as patrons with rather more demanding orders, who arrived later, had been served.
When I broached this with the much more cheerful and pleasant girl who completed the complement of serving staff, she confessed to having seen two teacakes in the kitchen, and they were then brought promptly to our table.
Unfortunately, they were cold, thin, appeared to contain no more than half a dozen fragments of dried fruit each, and were spread with a yellowish substance of indeterminate origin.
I just couldn't be bothered to complain. In any event, I felt that I had gained sufficient compensation by way of entertainment from the establishment's promotional litertaure.
Pensioners, for example, may be far from overwhelmed by the announcement that if they book for dinner, bed and breakfast for at least two nights, they will qualify for a discount of 50p. This is, however, offset by a surcharge of 10% for anyone who indulges in the black art of booking online.
And they say the British know nothing about service.
On Thursday, we covered about 10-11 miles from Thornton-le-Dale, along forest tracks to Low Dalby, then went by footpaths up and over the valley side into Howldale, to follow the dale into Pickering, and back to Thornton.
Although, as always, we had a flask and lunch with us, we decided to stop at the Purple Mountain cafe in Low Dalby, a business that seems to be associated with the cycle hire firm there.
Our £2.60 paid for two teabags in hot water in a dirty tea pot, which produced the most horrible brew I've tried in a long time. Add to that the presence of a cat that kept jumping on the table in an attempt to get at the milkjug, and I left feeling distinctly unimpressed.
On Sunday, we had just a short walk - four miles or so - from the Falcon Inn on the Scarborough-Whitby road, through forest and fields to The Grainary, a cafe at a farm that has diversified into offering lodgings and plant sales, then back along farm tracks and through forest.
This time, we splashed out on a toasted teacake each to accompany our pot of tea - a total of £4.40.
Of the three females front of house, two seemed to have taken advanced courses in miserableness. The first, older one stared right through me when we wandered in.
Signs directed visitors to order at "reception" or "the till" but as this location or locations was/were not evident, I asked a second female for directions.
She ignored me and walked on.
When I found the till/reception (which seemed to be the same spot) the second female quickly appeared and took my order.
The tables were shared around two gloomy rooms and a conservatory, all of which provided mind-numbing tuneless 1980s-style muzak as background annoyance, and an outdoor courtyard, which was music-free, but offered little protection from the drizzle.
We settled for the conservatory, which, we discovered too late, had the disadvantage of its juxtaposition to the toilet, the door to which offered little aural insulation from the activities associated with the facility.
Our tea, which was perfectly acceptable, was served quickly, but a 25-minute delay in providing two toasted teacakes seemed excessive, especially as patrons with rather more demanding orders, who arrived later, had been served.
When I broached this with the much more cheerful and pleasant girl who completed the complement of serving staff, she confessed to having seen two teacakes in the kitchen, and they were then brought promptly to our table.
Unfortunately, they were cold, thin, appeared to contain no more than half a dozen fragments of dried fruit each, and were spread with a yellowish substance of indeterminate origin.
I just couldn't be bothered to complain. In any event, I felt that I had gained sufficient compensation by way of entertainment from the establishment's promotional litertaure.
Pensioners, for example, may be far from overwhelmed by the announcement that if they book for dinner, bed and breakfast for at least two nights, they will qualify for a discount of 50p. This is, however, offset by a surcharge of 10% for anyone who indulges in the black art of booking online.
And they say the British know nothing about service.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Take me to your leader
While we're on the subject of local newspapers, is this the most embarrassingly inept leader ever published?
Stop the press! Please!
Here's the latest from the website of my local newspaper, which provides so much entertainment.
The only information provided with the pic reads:
A RANGE of events have been lined up as a prelude to the third *********** Literature Festival.
The bind moggles!
Play right
The common areas to our flats were expensively redecorated a couple of months ago, but a couple of days ago, the wall on the stairway was clunked by something.
I carried my giant tub of patch-up magnolia downstairs to patch it up. Maureen and I both avoided mentioning that while I spring into action (well sort of) to sort out the stairway paintwork in my role as managing agent, I'm finding it very difficult to overcome my natural inertia when it comes to decorating our flat.
We used the Iplayer to catch up with the excellent interview with Alan Ayckbourn on Radio 4 Front Row last night, marking his 70th birthday, then finished listening to Johnnie Walker's R2 show from Friday.
This afternoon, we listened to Ayckbourn's Man Of The Moment on R2 - our daughter Louise had a small part in an am-dram production of this 15 or so years ago.
I recorded both the interview and the play for our Ayckbourn CD collection.
Booked a hotel room (mustn't say where for the time being) for a mystery shopper visit a week today.
Lots of scooters in Scarborough today for a national rally. The local paper says the town is "bracing itself" for the event. No detectable evidence of that, however.
I carried my giant tub of patch-up magnolia downstairs to patch it up. Maureen and I both avoided mentioning that while I spring into action (well sort of) to sort out the stairway paintwork in my role as managing agent, I'm finding it very difficult to overcome my natural inertia when it comes to decorating our flat.
We used the Iplayer to catch up with the excellent interview with Alan Ayckbourn on Radio 4 Front Row last night, marking his 70th birthday, then finished listening to Johnnie Walker's R2 show from Friday.
This afternoon, we listened to Ayckbourn's Man Of The Moment on R2 - our daughter Louise had a small part in an am-dram production of this 15 or so years ago.
I recorded both the interview and the play for our Ayckbourn CD collection.
Booked a hotel room (mustn't say where for the time being) for a mystery shopper visit a week today.
Lots of scooters in Scarborough today for a national rally. The local paper says the town is "bracing itself" for the event. No detectable evidence of that, however.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Tempted to travel
We've just been for a walk into town, where we were intrigued by a couple of travel agents' deals.
One was offering a one-night break at Chester Zoo - coach travel and bed and breakfast. We didn't pursue this, as it didn't specify the actual nature of the accommodation, and as the venue is a zoo, that did seem to be a critical point.
The neighbouring travel agent was plugging five nights in "Berlin, Hannover and the Third Reich". We were actually looking for something a little more peaceful.
One was offering a one-night break at Chester Zoo - coach travel and bed and breakfast. We didn't pursue this, as it didn't specify the actual nature of the accommodation, and as the venue is a zoo, that did seem to be a critical point.
The neighbouring travel agent was plugging five nights in "Berlin, Hannover and the Third Reich". We were actually looking for something a little more peaceful.
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