Buddy met a little lamb

Buddy met a little lamb, originally uploaded by London looks.

We walked a very long way today to the Deen City Farm, which turns out is quite a long way away. I don't know why I didn't drive. I guess I just fancied a long stroll.

We'd been once before and Buddy could only summon up a bit of interest in some chicks. This time he loved everything. The sheep, the goats, the ducks, the geese, the chickens, the guinea pigs, the rabbits and the ferret. Especially the ferret.

He screamed so for the ferret that the sullen looking teenager who was messing with it (and who was probably there by some community service order) let him pet it.

In retrospect, slinky, bitey rodenty things are probably not best put into the paws of an exuberant one year old. But he loved it.

I would have taken a picture, but I didn't want to be that parent. You know the parent that takes the picture instead of staunching the flow of blood from the gushing ferret bite wound.

(There were no bites. Baby and ferret parted unharmed)

Love those rental rates

Hey kids it's Wimbledon - and this is the first year that we have full service on a bus that runs from spitting distance from my front door (but not right on my street) straight to the Wimbledon tennis grounds. Seriously, it's less than 20 minutes* and practically zero walking.

And do you know what that means? That means if I could get my act together we could rent out our house or do a house swap during Wimbledon for some seriously fab locale. I hear rich people with nice houses like Wimbledon.

But, I don't get my act together. Our house is a tip. A tip filled with baby and baby accessories. Maybe next year.

_______
For you folks with cars with America, maybe 20 minutes doesn't sound that close. In London it is.

Choosing from the dregs?

I do love the European Football Championship, but without England, it's just joyless. Yes, I know I've said this before. But for months after England failed to qualify, every time I thought about it I wanted to throw up a little.

As the first of the knock out games began, I started to watch a little more. But now all the teams I might have liked are gone.

Who's left to love? Russia, Turkey, Spain and Germany. The evil axis of footballing? Maybe Spain. I had a pretty good time there. Maybe Germany, I got a lot of free drinks there one time.

Smells like...

There's been some heavy advertising on tv lately for a new men's fragrance from Dunhill called London.

Now, I do love this city. But I don't know if you want to smell like diesel fumes and stale chips and the rush hour Underground on a wet day or maybe a little whiff of something icky coming off the Thames.

And Dunhill - don't they make cigarettes? I don't know if you want to smell like that either.

But hey, splash that cologne all over if you want to.

America's got Mongolian throat music

Because I was missing Britian's Got Talent so much, we watched a little bit of America's Got Talent - with British judges. It's not nearly as good - and I keep watching it trying to figure out why.

Partly, I think it's poor chairing. The Hoff is just a bit too chaotic, he votes before he's supposed to vote, he speaks out of turn. The panel is supposed to have a rotating chair, but Hoff seems to think he's always chairing. On Britain's Got Talent, it worked. When Piers was chairing, Piers chaired. When Amanda was chairing, the other two followed her lead. And when Simon Cowell chaired, of course, he was in control.

I haven't been to an American business meeting in many, many years. I do know they're different. I know they have a different rhythm. From what I hear, there's more "get down to business" and less of the introductory weather related chit-chat that occurs in almost every British business meeting. (It doesn't last long, don't worry.)

Some time ago my friend Vol-K was over on business, and she asked me and another ex-pat what she should expect for her very first business meeting. We told her about the chit-chat. Later she said she was grateful for the advice as she felt herself getting impatient during the blather phase.

But what about American chairing? Are Americans less likely to follow the lead of the chair? Or is it just a David Hasselhoff thing?

-0-

One of the acts last night on America's Got Talent was a guy who played the banjo and did the Mongolian throat singing thing. He didn't make it too far. He was amiable, but rubbish. It was really worse than it sounds. And banjo + throat singing doesn't seem like a good combo on paper. But I could sort of peer through this particular artist's crapness to see that maybe banjo and whistle-tube singing could work. Just not with that guy.

When I was Amsterdam a number of years ago, not touring the red light district and not smoking myself into a daze at the "coffee shops" but visiting museums and viewing Dutch masters I came across a troupe of Mongolian throat singers. They were busking underneath an archway that lead to the National Gallery of the Netherlands (or some similar type museum). It was pretty darn amazing. I was entranced.

I bought a CD with a fistful of Euros. Then I had a little buyer's remorse. What if it was crap? What if that archway provided them was some sort of amazing acoustics that didn't translate to CD?

Anyway, I listened to it at home. Let me say this - it doesn't exactly have a great beat and it isn't easy to dance to, but it's cool in a weird sort of way.

The throat singing guy last night made me want to see if I could dig out the CD and by the fates, it happened to be the second CD in the giant stack of un-put-away CDs just sitting by the stereo. So I played it again - yeah, it was pretty cool.

Buddy thought so, too. He was transfixed and stomped his feet and wanted to get closer to the speakers.

The band was Altai Hangai and here they are with Barrelhouse.

Why I haven't been blogging much of late

Why I haven't been blogging much of late

Dunno, really. I've been blogging more at work. Don't bother looking for it, it's not that interesting. Well, for one or two readers, it might be kind of interesting, but not really.

I've been doing lots of Web2.0 things at work and I guess one only has so much to give to social media.

Plus, I'm tired. Still very tired. Buddy still doesn't sleep through the night.

Islamism and fascism, happy bedfellows

Here's an interesting post from Harry's Place which captures some interesting conversions from the far right to extreme Islamism.

I reckon it's not that big a step - particularly if you're fueled by hatred of the joos.

Commenter Wardytron nails it:

Plus they’ve seen that you get far more indulgence and less outright hostility as an Islamist as opposed to a neo-Nazi, the ideological leap is tiny - you get to keep all your enemies - gays, Jews, liberals, women - and you’re joining a movement which, if not actually flourishing, isn’t down to nearly single figures. I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often.

I guess one thing that makes it hard to make the transition to Islam - even the violent, nasty political hate-filled kind is having to give up beer.

Lacklustre Euro 2008 blogging

Now that the European football tournament has reached the knockout stages, I should be a little more interested - even though England didn't qualify which makes the whole thing a painful endeavour.

Portugal v Germany? Who do I hate more? Hmmm...Portugal. They lost. Croatia v Turkey? Hmmm....I guess I'd be marginally in favour of Croatia because of the cool red and white check thing they have going on, but there's something about their sporting gloaty-ness which bugs me. Anyway, Croatia lost last night in a penatly shoot-out, but even though I checked in on the game, I didn't stick with it. A bit of shame, because it sounds like it was quite exciting at the end.

One game I did watch a fair bit of was the final qualifying match between Italy and France. A little rematch of the World Cup finals - without the headbutting Zidane. France just fell apart at the end, even amiable Thierry Henry crumbled like a cookie. I supported Italy last time around and this time, too. France bombed out of the group stages. Ha ha.

Typical

Thousands upon thousands flocked to Stonehenge this morning to see the sun rise in mystical alignment on this the Summer Soltice.

It was raining and overcast.

Typical.

Slim chances

If elected, maybe she'll appoint me as Ambassador to the Court of St James. Sweet digs come with the gig.

Party animal

Buddy attended his first party today where he was the invitee. It was another one-year-old's birthday party and we were the mere chaperones.



He was raring to go and turned out to be a real party animal. After he spotted the beer, he cried until he got his hands on a bottle(empty), much to the amusement of your wicked, drunken sort.

We finally managed to get him off the beer with the promise of chocolate.

Births, deaths and Londoners

As we were walking down the street today, a quiet residential street near our home, we spied a television news crew. We walked on. It's London, after all - who knows what it could be about.

We saw a strip of three pregnancy ultrasound scan photos in the gutter maybe 20 yards further on in the gutter. All scan photos look alike, but clearly they're generally quite precious to the person to whom they belong. We knew they hadn't been there long because they were dry, but it had been raining earlier.

We walked back to the news crew - they were clearly staking out someone's home so I figured why not take advantage. We handed off the scan photos to the tv journalist in case someone came back looking for them.

"Do you live on this street?" she asked. No, we sort of pointed off in the general direction of our house.

"Did you know him?" she asked. And then I realised just who they were doorstepping. The widow of a murder victim. The partner of a man who yesterday was doing nothing more than standing at a customer service desk of a grocery store we've shopped at, too. He was hit in the face by another customer and now he's dead. Nice. I wonder what the news woman did with the scan photos.

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As we left the news crew, an old man with an adorable dog started off the same way. I think he'd been talking with the reporter. Buddy was quite interested in the dog. He pointed at it and said "dab, blah, dab-blah-blah".

I said something about nice doggie and the old man informed us that she was indeed a very nice dog who loved both children and cats. In fact, she loved them and they loved her. All the cats in the road would approach Skip (the dog) and kiss her. Awwwww. Just awwwww.

But then he said "Yep, Skip's a lovely dog. Better than a wife."

The Vol-in-Law, to his credit, said "Well, a wife's pretty nice, too."

"Not my wife," said the old man. "I had one for 36 years. Glad to be rid of her. Better to have my dog. The wife's in an old person's home and you can have her. No, Skip's a great dog."

(I paraphrase - he went on like this for quite some time until our paths diverged.)

-0-

Only in London, said the Vol-in-Law, would a seemingly nice, baby-admiring old man with an adorable dog reveal his dark, wife-hating side to a strangers in the street. London old people often seem to have a special darkness in their soul.

-0-

The dog in the photo is probably not Skip, but looks a lot like Skip. Reproduced here under a creative commons license. Image by Chris Jones.

The non-toddling toddler

Buddy is one year, one week and one day old - and yet he does not walk. Only in the past few days has he done the finger grabbing, hand-holding frog march thing with any skill.

At the weekend, we went to the playground and twin girls who were about his size were taking stumbling steps. Before they arrived, he'd been crawling happily but after seeing them he pretended to walk by gamely holding onto the hand holds of the climbing frame/ slide thingy. What a poser. I guess peer pressure starts young.

I'm don't really worry about it, when he's ready, he's ready. But the Vol-in-Law wants him to walk. He calls him the non-toddling toddler. He sat up pretty early, creeped and crawled pretty early, too. The ViL says "I don't want to be parent who says 'Some babies don't walk until they're sixteen months old. ' I want to be the parent who says 'Yeah, he's walking.'"

Yeah, I'm bitter

Is it an even numbered year?

Check.

Is it June?

Check.

Yet, where is my preferred team? Where are my heart's sporting darlings?

They're at home, twiddling their thumbs.

That's right. England didn't qualify for Euro 2008 - the European tournament - the World Cup's little brother. It's going on right now and I can't bring myself to get excited about it - at least not in the group stages.

And although I know their absence from the tournament is probably saving me from the inevitable heartbreak of seeing them bomb out during the quarter finals, there's still an aching void in my early summer.

Yeah, I'm bitter

Hillary Clinton has conceded. She says she's supporting Barack Obama and that we should, too.

I knew she'd say that. I knew she'd do that. Because she is a party loyalist. She's a class act. I also knew she wouldn't back down while there was still a chance of victory. But the deck has been so thoroughly stacked against her from the beginning by both the media and the DNC that I can now see she didn't have a chance. Yet still she fought on - and still she won more support from a broader coalition of people than her detractors ever thought she could or indeed ever gave her credit for.

That isn't to say that she didn't make some mistakes along the way, some mistakes that cost her. Every candidate does.

I still believe that she's the better candidate. By far.

-0-

the invisible undercurrent to this entire primary season has been a sotto voce “bitch“ . i think our national reaction to her campaign says much more about us, than it does about Hillary Clinton as a person and a woman politician. and frankly, it’s really disgusted me. you don’t have to be a Hillary supporter to feel outraged at the treatment she’s received. you don’t have to be a woman to be outraged at the treatment she’s received.

So says an Obama supporter. (Of course, I don't think the "BITCH" has been quite so sotto voce). If the vocal majority of Obama supporters even hinted at something like this then I'd be more inclined to vote for the guy. But they aren't. Many are largely implying that my electoral hesitation is fueled by racism.

Not so. Not so for me anyway. (I'm not saying that race isn't a factor in some people's votes.)

I've voted for a black man over a white woman in a primary race* in Tennessee. I voted for him again in the general election. Locally, I've voted for a man of color over a white woman that I know personally and like because I thought he was the better choice. And I'll campaign for him. But I wouldn't have voted for either of them if they'd taken advantage of sexism to win in the primary race quite so egregiously as Barack Obama has.

And there are other reasons why I hesitate to vote for Obama. Reasons I won't go into because some part of me still wants to support the presumptive Democratic nominee.

My vote could still be won, but if Obama and his supporters take Hillary Clinton's extended hand of support and friendship and kick her in the teeth... Then no, hell no.

-0-

Maybe Obama's charm and charisma will carry him to victory in November. I hope so. I think he'd make a better president than John McCain.

I worry particularly about McCain's nation-building aspirations in the Middle East. In many ways the neo-conservative agenda is an agenda of hope and global prosperity, but it's a doomed vision. Not everyone cleaves to democracy and trying to impose it on them won't make them the good liberal democrats that we'd like them to be. (And by liberal democrat I mean that in the classical sense - the sort of liberalism which allows a plurality of viewpoints rather than a leftist agenda necessarily) And trying to impose it seems to be leading to a kind of least best outcome - a stronger Iran, an angry and punitive OPEC, an Iraq ruled at the neighbourhood level by religious militia.

I worry, too about furthering a socially conservative agenda which is more about foisting someone else's dubious morals on me rather than maintaining decency and family life for the majority.
_________
*Correction - I supported Ford in the primary race, but since I'm a little bit bad at voting in state level primaries from overseas and he was way ahead I may not have actually voted for him then. I definitely voted for him in the general.

Buddy and the big orange express

Buddy and the big orange express, originally uploaded by London looks.

Loading up with big orange fun. Keep on truckin', Buddy.

Buddy is one!

Buddy is one!, originally uploaded by London looks.

Wow, we managed to keep him breathing air for one whole year. Beats our record with some pets.

All reality all the time (for real)

Since introducing my mother to the delights of Eurovision, we spent 7 nights watching the utterly captivating Britain's Got Talent. That was one night of condensed auditions, 5 nights of gripping semi-finals and, of course, the finals.

Dana (a distant cousin - we've been at the same reunions, but never knowingly met) sums it up as Possibly the best British show Americans will never see. It could be.

My favourite acts were the forties singers from Newcastle, the hula hoop trio (go to Dana's site - she's dredged up the YouTube videos) and Kate and Gin - a dancing dog act. Only Kate and Gin made it to the finals, where I have to say I didn't especially want them to win - but I hope that it launches a long career for Kate in the dog dancing acts at Crufts.

Do Americans get televised coverage of Crufts? If not, I'd vote for that in the running of possibly the best British show Americans will never see.

The Vol Abroad has a brush with reality teevee

It's true that I have been watching a little more reality tv than I'd have cared to admit a year ago. But I'd never consider actually going on one of those shows.

Still I'm proud to admit that I had a brush with reality tv today - and the daddy of all the British reality tv shows to top it all.

This morning, the guys from Lazee Lawn came around to install my new faux turf. And as they were leaving, they said they were off to the Big Brother house to do some work on their lazee lawn.

The Vol Abroad hires only the gardeners to the stars.


Top cat checks out the new top grass


(See more photos of my new fake lawn going in).

World's biggest cocktail party on rails

Our new mayor, Boris Johnson, has banned alcoholic drinks on the Underground and the rest of the Transport for London network. Many American readers may be wondering why it was ever allowed in the first place, but drinking in public is a well established liberty in this country (unless prohibited by notice).

The ban comes into effect today, so like any good Londoner should, thousands went out last night to revel in the last moments of licentiousness. (Pictures from the BBC here).

Now, I've enjoyed a drink or two on the Underground in my day. I particularly remember one crowded journey when I took a delicious glass of fruity Pimms on the Victoria line much to the admiration and jealousy of the other commuters.

I have to admit popping a few tops on the train, too - making many a journey more endurable and my fellow passengers seem more genial.

But no more...

Now that my days of public drunkenness are largely to be set aside for the next two decades or so, I admit that I wholeheartedly support the ban. Young people these days just have no respect.

A rare moment of self-reflection

The media pauses for a moment and reflects on its own woman-hating self. There's whole panel of punditry reflecting on just a few incidents of the heavy misogyny we've all been treated to during this campaign. (Via TGW)

Probably too little, too late now.

I hope what comes out of all of this is an honest debate about how women, especially successful women, are treated - and that some progress is made. But I doubt that happens. I think this whole campaign season will demonstrate what happens to uppity women. Truly, bitch is the new black.

-0-

Since the Don Imus incident was mentioned (ever so briefly, since, strictly speaking it has nothing to do with this year's presidential politics), I'd like to add my two cents, too - since I didn't manage to do so at the time. I also believe that if Don Imus had just limited his comments to sexism he'd have probably gotten away with it. And I don't want to disrespect the Rutgers women's basketball team.

But I think we're forgetting who really got slighted in all that.

The Lady Vols.

Their great accomplishment got completely sidelined. They won, the National Championship, remember that? Rutgers came a mere (but respectable) second. But, of course, Pat Head Summitt has too much class to say that.

The real contest

Well tonight it's the Eurovision song contest - the finals - the moment you've all been waiting for. No need to highlight all the different acts, since I've done that and more in the semi-final coverage. (Here and here) So what follows is just a series of random thoughts,

I will say that the UK entry (which got an automatic pass being one of the big funders of the contest) was not completely embarassing as they have been in some years. And the German entry (another bye) was OK, some women in tight dresses singing in a mediocre fashion.

Best part thing of the night so far is turning on the lyrics. Where they're in the native tongue of the entrant it's quite the revelation and often it's quite a revelation to discover that they are in fact singing in English (like the Georgian and Azerbaijani entries).

We liked the Finnish entry, but the Vol-in-Law loves it even more now that he know the lyrics translated mean something like "All the men must ride forth, sheep can not graze there." (See the video here).

Perhaps the most controvesial entry in English is the French one. I thought it was a law that they had to do everything in French and apparently this is le uproar over this across Le Channel. It's not a great entry anyway.

We've definitely decided that the Swedish entry Charlotte Pirelli is not a woman. Thank goodness for second looks.

The Spanish have done a joke entry - and it's a very bad joke indeed. They're being booed off the stage. They're still booing as last year's winner takes the stage. It makes Estonia's joke entry with dancing and singing washed up Estonian MPs look professional. That's how bad the Spanish entry was. Nil points.

The Serbian entry - the final bye of the evening - was OK. Lyrics like "wake me up on St Vitus day" - which is apt because apparently his saintly powers include protection against oversleeping.

******
Vol Mom - visiting from America actually voted (on our phone line) for Norway. It only cost 15 pence (about 30 cents), which isn't too bad.

*****

As the votes are counted, I'm guessing

Ukraine or Russia to take all

Serbia, Turkey and Georgia do well.

The more pop-star type entries Armenia and Greece do ok.

At the bottom of the heap, France and Spain. The UK won't suffer a nil-pointage, but it will languish in the bottom third.

This I predict.

***************

Now for the most exciting moment...the voting...all 43

The UK This is London calling...
Crap...someone in the UK voted for Spain. Top marks go to Greece.

FYR Macedonia....votes for its neighbours

Ukraine...votes for its neighbours....12 points to Russia, gotta keep those gas pipelines open.

Estonia votes mostly for its neighbours - 10 points to Finland (they're ethnically kin) and 12 points to Russia.

Bosnia & Herzegovnia voted for all their former Balkan foes. The Balkans tend to stick together despite not being able to do so politically. There are a lot of Balkan countries and a lot of Balkan votes.

Albania gave top points to Greece, somewhat surprisingly.

Belgium give top points to Armenia - one of my favorite entries - but what's the relationship between those two countries.

Latvia - douze points to Russia.

Bulgaria gives 12 points to Germany - who had zero before. Why?

Moldova give 12 points to Romania. Quelle surprise.

France are giving all their points in French - not like their song. No votes for the UK from across the channel.

Portugal gives the dreadful Spanish entry 10 points.

Norway doesn't appear to have given Sweden any/many points. That is a bit of a shocker.

Spain gives 12 points to Romania - purely on the strength of migrant workers, I reckon.

Malta gives 12 points to Sweden and nary a point to the UK - I thought surely there would be a vote or two there.

Ireland - woo hoooooo 8 points to the UK and 12 point to the Latvian entry (the Pirates).

At this point, it's looking like no one can beat Russia with 36 out of 43 countries already reported.

Sweden gives Norway 12 points - and the announcer looks drunk. Brilliant.

Will Denmark give the UK any points - the last country to vote? 8 to Sweden, 10 to Norway and 12 points to Iceland...well, that's it.

******************

Russia wins.

Maybe the UK should cut off some natural gas supplies to someone that might keep them off the bottom of the scorecard. The UK entry wasn't brilliant, but it sure beat a whole bunch of other dismal entries.

Rip it up and start again

I'm quite excited about the prospect of redoing my garden. Those shrubs and flowers that haven't pulled their weight blossoming weight in past years are facing extinction. The giant tree peony with the surprisingly small blossoms - it barely will be missed.

I want it all done and dusted by the end of Tuesday, but yet I still haven't completely decided what I'm going to do. But it will be heavy on texture and colored foliage.

The second heat

Tonight it's the second semi-final for the Eurovision Song Contest. Another night of great (a-hem) singing live from Belgrade. Tonight UK voters are eligible to phone in their ballot (please make sure you have permission from the bill payer).

As per usual, I will not be voting. I have never phoned in a vote in my life.

The night's proceedings are kicking off with some folk dancers and orchestral musicians in cloud outfits. They're not part of the contest though - just the entertainment laid on by the hosts and I have to say I actually quite like it.

I'll be back when the official acts hit the stage

1. Iceland's entry is by Euroband - described as a tribute band. Hmmm - a tribute to whom exactly. I'd say this tune is perfect for an aerobics class - which puts it above most entries.

2 Sweden - always a strong a contender (back in the day Abba was a Eurovision entry). The chanteuse (the Vol-in-Law asks is that really a woman? I don't think it is.) is dressed entirely in silver tinsel. The song's not bad, not great either.

3. Turkey has had some pretty rockin' entries in the past. They've got a typical guitar band on stage right now, all in black with the barest hint of glam (sequined lapels). They're singing in Turkish which can't be helping them, but I think they might go through to the finals.

4. Ukraine and another tinselly silver dress - her male backing dancers are in a plastic boxes. I like a man in a box. The song is called Shady Lady, the Vol-in-Law says "If I were Eastern European, I think I would steer clear of any references to prostitution." Now the backing dancers are doing backflips across the stage - ho hum.

5. Lithuania - the out-of-tune male singer's only recognisable attribute is his attribute. Let's just say you don't need to guess which side he dresses on thanks to those skin-tight black plastic trousers. This guy couldn't carry a tune in a bucket - and the Michael Bolton hair isn't going to win any fans. He wouldn't make it past the first auditions of American Idol (the final of which I'm missing tonight and wondering if I've made the right choice with the quality of this entry). A cat in heat could do better.

6. Albania's entry is a 16 year old wearing a double breasted jacket with a sewn in cape. She seems very earnest, but frankly it's all a bit dull. I can't even get up good snark on this one.

7. Paolo Menegezzi of Switzerland is singing a well put together pop ballad in Italian Era Stupendo - which think probably means "It was amazing" or something like that. He has the slightly geeky, sensitive look that I quite like in a man. I probably wouldn't kick him out of bed, but I would spend a pound voting for him either. The Vol-in-Law says he'll be hurt a bit by the fact that he can't actually sing, but he thought it would go through.

8. Czech Republic are all be-silvered, too but this time the silver dresses are much, much, much, much smaller. There are five women shaking their stuff and a silvery DJ in the background. The Vol-in-Law says he feels physically sickened. It is truly horrid.

9. Belarus are being booed before they even go on. Is there some kind of bad blood between Serbia and Belarus? The male singer reminds me of a cheesy magician - lyrics like "your laugh has stealed my love" and "don't ask me why I say goodbye, hasta la vista baby, I'm gonna miss you...maybe" The backing dancers are - once again - in tiny metallic dresses, but this time they're golden and splaying themselves across golden magic mushrooms. It's bad, but 10 times better than the Czech offering.



10. Latvia - Pirates of the Sea singing "Wolves of the Sea" - WOW oh WOW - they're all dressed as very glamorous pirates, but it's like a very poor Adam Ant in the Highwayman video. Lyrics like "It's no Peter Pan, so what can you do?" and "We will steal the show, Jolly Rogers go, we are wolves of the sea."

They'll probably go through just for the outfits, though they should be walking the plank.



11 You gotta give Croatia some guts from putting up a 75 year old rapper. I kinda like the song - it's heavy on the accordion (I'm a fool for folk - sue me). Oh my god, granddad is waving a cane. He looks like the old man I saw beat an Underground worker with his crutch one time. His "rapper name" is 75 cents.



12. Bulgaria brings us break dancing and swoosha swoosha record scratching. Let it never be said that Bulgaria is more than two decades behind the times. Oh wait, make that 12 decades - the gal singer is dressed as some kind of Western dance hall madame. They've got DJ decks that are actually ON FIRE. That can't be safe.





13 Denmark - Simon Matthew with "All night long." Cheesy suspenders (braces if you're British) and flat cap. It sounds like one of those songs that's written to be a bar sing-a-long, but fails miserably.

14 You know how Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles despite being blind are musical genii (that's plural for genius, ya know). Yeah, well - being blind is not a gurantee of singing talent. Georgia should remember that the next time they enter a blind singer. Extra points for the albino contortionist backing dancers. Oh - AND the quick change from black outfits to white outfits on stage underneath a gauzey parchute silk covering.

15 Hungary - a bad lounge act. This is reminding me that I could be watching the finals of American Idol.

We're nearly at the end of the 19 entries, but unless the next four are amazing, I don't know how they're going to find ten to go to the finals.

16. Malta - I have soft spot for Malta because they always vote for the British entry no matter how bad or how unpopular British foreign adventures are at the time. The singer is wearing a tight black outfit and boots that were made out of a disco mirror ball. I'm having serious shoe envy. Lyrics like "Vodka and I want it so bad." the tune is genuinely catchy and well performed. I not only want this act to go through, it makes me want to visit the little island. My favorite act of the night.

17. Cyprus - back to the silver dresses a real femme fatale number this time. But unfortunately, she's stripped down to a red and black fringey number. She's singing in Greek and I can hear plinkety accompanient of some kind of stringed greek type instrument. Now she's dancing on a table in the middle of fabric rose - which I guess is suggestive of, well - you know.

18. F.Y.R Macedonia - the femal singer looks like a real woman and I was starting to like it until the nasty FYR Macedonian rappers started doing their FYR crapper. The guy is wearing bermuda shorts and white tights and golf shoes (I swear).

19. It's not over til the fat lady sings and tonight she's singing for Portugal. A lacklustre entry to cap off a lacklustre set of contestants. Still, she can actually sing, which puts her miles ahead of most of tonight's acts.

*******************
Meanwhile during the live voting our predictions are...
:

Portugal, FYR Macedonia, Iceland, Turkey, Bulgaria, Albania, Malta

The Vol-in-Law says he thinks the Ukraine, Latvia and Switzerland, Denmark and Sweden might also go through but that if there's any justice in the world, the Czech Republic will not only be sent home but be beaten with sticks.

*************************

And the results:

Ukraine, Croatia, Albania, Iceland, Georgia, Denmark, Sweden, Latvia, Turkey and Portugal.

Best television in the world

Now normally I don't buy in to the idea that Britain has the "best television in the world" - no matter how many times the BBC spreads that lie.

But tonight, I've gotta admit it must be close.

The awards from the Chelsea Flower Show (live on the main channel) and the live Eurovision song-contest semi-finals which is being broadcast on cable.

So what's a girl (who doesn't understand her live record tv settings) to do?

I do love gardening, but I love to laugh at cheesy Eastern Europeans more. So Eurovision song-contest it is - and I'll be trying to live blog the event. Yikes.

1. Philip Flip-off-ovitch or something like that from Montenegro.

The Vol-in-Law says he's going to lose points for singing in - well, whatever it is they sing in Montenegro. The floppy haired singer is getting slapped in the face by girls wearing 80s mini-skits and red gloves. Buddy seems to like it, but he is only 11 months old.

2. The Israeli Pop Idol (American Idol) winner - something Boaz or other.

Only 20, I think he just got his head shave as a new recruit to the IDF. Dude has some nice arms (must be all those push ups). The song sounds like a call to prayer - and that's not a good thing. I like the Hebrew folk dancing back up guys in the dance. Nothing like a chain step, I always say.

3. Estonia has a joke entry
To me, I think you need to be a serious country before you're eligible to do a joke entry. Still, Estonia has won in recent memory and maybe they didn't want to take the chance of winning again. Several burly guys are singing not very well and girls in sparkly hot pants are dancing around with flags and signs with giant pictures of onions on them. (I know you think I'm making this up - I'm not). The baby doesn't care for accordion break in the middle of the song. It's making Buddy cry.

4. Moldova are doing some kind of jazz fusion-y thing. It's not bad, if you like that kind of thing. And by that I mean over-the-top female vocalists accompanied by a barefoot trumpeter on a sofa. Still they're wearing orange, and you know that's gotta be a good thing.

5. San Marino
Is that a country? I thought it was a village in Italy. Well, I don't know much about it, but apparently they have bad hair there. And the like to do interprative dance in flowy white georgette. Sounds like my kinda town, I mean country. I sorta like the pop rock ballad singing in whatever it is they sing in in San Marino. (Update: San Marino really is a village in Italy according to CIA World Factbook)

6. Belgium is singing in a made up language. Really, I swear. You'd have thought that singing in Belgique or Walloon or whatever they normally sing in would have been close enough to a made up language. The girl singer is wearing a dress that looks like a red and white golf umbrella. There's a floutist on stage. Unless you're Jethro Tull floutists and pop should steer well clear of each other. Buddy doesn't seem to be noticing this one, but he has managed to get into the Vol-in-Law's chocolate biscuits while I've been blithely live blogging. Bad Mommy.

7. Azerbaijan features a high pitched young feller dressed as a bad angel with fluffy wings doing a kind of operatic hollering and another devilish looking chap doing a pop-metal fusion. The Vol-in-Law screams from the other room that Azerbaijan isn't even in Europe, but that they probably will go through. Oh, hell yeah they're going through.



8. Slovenia's entry was also their Miss World entry. Well, there probably are only three presentable people there. It's a pop song whose refrain is apparently "to hell with it" or something like that in Slovenian. It's catchy, I like it. The baby crawled over to the satellite box and changed the channel.

9. Maria from Norway is telling us to hold on and be strong - she should learn to phrase better in her singing. But she looks nice in her slinky blue dress. The baby is crying

i'm live blogging one handed as i'm trying to blog and breastfeed at the same time.

10. Poland is doing a dreary pop ballad - a blonde woman in a turquoise dress and amazingly white teeth.

11. Ireland's entry is a turkey puppet - singing about how it's lost Eurovision for too long. There are vegas style dancers and mexican ballet folklorico looking dancers in the Irish colors. Irelande douze points is the chorus. Eurovision fans will know what that means. Utter rubbish. Nil points from me and apparently there were too many people on stage which may mean it's disqualified, anyway.

12. Gisela from Andorra is wearing a metallic breast plate and some coppery tailfeathers. and something that looks like a bookend on her head. Thoroughly pop and in English "Oh Casanova" I suspect it will do well.

13 Bosnia and Herzogovenia (is that spelled right) have a brother and a sister and a clothes line and four brides on stage (which is one fewer person than the Irish had and all that the rules allow) The gal singer is wearing bloomers, tee-hee!


knitting brides in the backgroud

14 Armenia - now this is more like it. I'm partial to a pop song that seems to incorporate some element of the native folk beats. This does it for me. It's the usual cheesy pop lyrics in English and the costume is just a modern version of the fringey flapper dress, but I like it.

15. The Netherlands - Hind - "Your heart belongs to me" I usually like the Dutch entry, but they usually don't do well. Wow, the rather statuesque gal singer is wearing a full length formal dress AND thigh high boots. The song itself has a kinda belly dancing vibe to it, it's upbeat and easy to dance to. I like it.


Dutch fashion courage

16. Hurray the Finns!! Another metal entry from my cousins to the North. They could put shit on a cracker and I'd vote for it. The Vol-in-Law says "I love Finnish metal." The baby is screaming along "da da da da da" and actually dancing. This probably doesn't bode well for his future development.


Screaming along to Finland's entry


17. Nico and Vlad (yes really) from Romania are singing a nice romantic ballad. Snooze. They're nice looking enough chaps, though. Oh wait, there's a gal singer... I guess Nico's female and she's wearing a long black dress with luminous green plastic waste products attached to the skirt.

18. Russia and Dima Bilan is singing "Believe!" a barefoot pop-boy dressed in white (what is it with all the barefoot performing these days) His eyes are blood shot in a worrying way, drugs no doubt. Oh my god, they have an actual ice skater on the stage - spinning around right next to the barefoot guy - that's a brave performance decision. No wonder he needs the drugs.

Update: ice skating guy was apparently the world champion ice skater.


Russian health and safety violations

While I've been watching, baby has crawled from sofa to chair/ chair to sofa, and is now dumping Daddy's magazine's on the floor. Yes, I know it's after 9 pm.

19 Kalomira from Greece is singing "Secret Combination". Like Armenia it's chessy pop with a little greco beat. Also like Albania the chanteuse is wearing some kind of fringey dress. I'm now realising that "secret combination" is some kind of sub-text for sexual access. Ok, not so much sub-text - it's a bit like Britney Spears when she finally left innuendo behind.



Dang, I turned my head and missed the on-stage costume stage. I guess one of those backing dancers figured out her secret combination.

OK, that's it. I hope to be back with the results shortly.

_____

While waiting for the votes to tally, they explained how the voting works this year. Unlike last year, there are TWO semi-finals and no major Western European countries (you know the ones you've heard of) actually made it through. So they've split the voting groups in two, breaking up the traditional geographic loyalties (e.g. the Nordic countries always vote for each other) resulting in very predictable results.

And I'm not clear on this, but at least one country may or may not be selected by jury to ensure there are enough countries from Western Europe.

But this year there are 43 countries participating (many of them not technically in Europe). Thirty-eight have to be winnowed down to 20 through semi-finals - and big countries, with big tv revenue streams (the UK, Germany, France, and Spain) have automatic entries as well as last year's winner - Serbia.

Does that make as much sense a the single transferable vote?

____________

The ten finalists from the first heat of the semi-finals. (In one big envelope you will find ten smaller envelopes - says the hostess - apparently the song contest in Serbia is sponsored by a stationery company).

In no particular order:

1. Greece
2. Romania
3. Bosnia and Herzegovnia (this result is absolutely inexplicable)
4. Finland (hurray the Finns - the Vol-in-Law says that the streets are going wild in Helsinki tonight many people will be having an extra puula)
5 Russia
6 Israel
7 Azerbaijan
8 Armenia - I really liked this one
9 Poland
10 Norway

No wonder we hate you

Did you know that the Transportation Security Administration has a blog. Well, they do.

It's called Evolution of Security: Terrorists evolve. Threats evolve. Security must stay ahead. You play a part.

And that sounds all very serious and worthy, but hardly what exercises and excites most of the blog's readers.

Like myself, most people are het up about the long lines and the confiscated Swiss Army knives. Our little family alone has lost at least three knives - though in the win column we've managed to get a knife onto one domestic (UK) flight and one international flight (London to Amsterdam). And I have also lost several lighters, including a lovely orange one in Nashville to a snickering TSO who was probably a Vandy fan (and that was following the season of shame).

Yes, the lighters are what really got me mad. For years I carried lighters on planes and through checkpoints without concern. I needed my little incendiary device at the ready so I could smoke again at the very.first.available.opportunity. It was really was vital to public order and security that I be allowed to do so. But suddenly - halfway through my last trip to the US, the lighters started getting taken up. It was a-OK to have the lighter coming in to Vegas - but suddenly they were Al Qaeda's weapon of choice as I was leaving. Trying to hold on to my lighter (I would let them find one and try to stash another - usually a pretty successful strategy) just meant I was clearly in league with the devil.

So, when I discovered the TSA blog - I clicked immediately on the HOT TOPIC nail clippers, lighters and lithium battteries. (What's the deal with lithium batteries??)

Lighters were allowed starting in July 2007, (not including torch lighters) and nail clippers, as well as smaller scissors and tools, have been allowed through the checkpoint since December 2005. Unlike improvised explosives devices (IEDs), these items do not present a significant threat to an airplane.

Yes, that's right. Lighters - AS I HAVE SAID ALL ALONG - "do not present a significant threat to an airplane".

And the comments section on this post is full of people (160 comments and counting) who point out the inconsistencies of the TSA rules. Including this one, which cracked me up:

You still haven't explained why a sharp scissor with 4" long blades is allowed but a 1.5" tiny Swiss Army knife isn't. All I have to do is pop apart the 2 scissor blades and I now have TWO very sharp 6 inch or longer knives with convenient handles. Usually these blades are stronger and sharper than that found on the small S/A knife.

ALL blades of ANY size should be prohibited, including those found on scissors. If the TSA isn't worried about terrorists taking over planes with blades, why aren't Swiss Army knives allowed?

Why are baseball bats or other bludgeons not allowed? Gonna take over a plane by swinging a bat? Not likely (especially since I'll have scissors). Yet, I can bring my heavy camera tripod, pop off the 3 legs and have 3 nice sized bats for me and 2 other friends!

I'm a TSO by the way and even we are sick of all the inconsistencies and looking like fools when we try to explain them to the passengers. No wonder they hate us!

I swore I wouldn't

IMG_2227, originally uploaded by London looks.

One of my biggest pet peeves was seeing children run amok in public gardens. I never minded a bit of youthful exuberance, but I couldn't stand to see kids plucking blossoms or foliage while their parents looked on mutely.

Buddy grabbed these azalea blossoms at the Royal Horticultural Society gardens at Wisley before I could move him out of reach.

Azalea plantation

Regular readers will know that we can often be found in Richmond Park (aka the Deer Park), and as the sun was glimmering weakly through the haze instead of being drowned by a deluge we jumped at the chance to visit Isabella Plantation. Isabella is a walled in area of the park planted with rare trees and ericaceous (acid loving) plants like rhododendron, camellias, magnolias and azaleas.

I really fancied taking Buddy to the grassy area with a picnic and let him crawl around on the grass and play with his little toy football (soccer). Oh, the photos I would take of him against the great, bright blaze of an azalea in full bloom.

But, alas, it was not to be...as Buddy looked like this the entire time we were in the park - all through our picnic even when a full bus load of horticultural tourists surrounded our little picnic to hear about the history of the garden and to glimpse rare rhodies. He slept when the Italian laughed at him when his hat had completely fallen over his face and said "He must be overwhelmed by the beauty all around him."

He snoozed all during our walk to the lake and back up over the hill. And he slept all during the time I was taking floral photos - so I guess I should be grateful for that.

One good thing about a McCain presidency

There would be one good thing about a McCain presidency. It would, once and for all, establish the right of my son to seek and hold the highest office in the land (the American land, that is). From an article in Washington Post:

The Senate has unanimously declared John McCain a natural-born citizen, eligible to be president of the United States.

That is the good news for the presumptive Republican nominee, who was born nearly 72 years ago in a military hospital in the Panama Canal Zone, then under U.S. jurisdiction. The bad news is that the nonbinding Senate resolution passed Wednesday night is simply an opinion that has little bearing on an arcane constitutional debate that has preoccupied legal scholars for many weeks.

Article II of the Constitution states that "no person except a natural born citizen . . . shall be eligible to the office of president."

Of course, Buddy didn't need a Congressional order to be declared a natural born citizen. We've got a piece of paper from the US Embassy to prove that he's an American boy. But the founders never specified what a natural born citizen really is and it's never come up, so it's never been tested by the courts.

But it will be soon, apparently there are three pending law suits disputing McCain's eligibility.

But Sarah H. Duggin, an associate law professor at Catholic University who has studied the "natural born" issue in detail, said the question is "not so simple." While she said McCain would probably prevail in a determined legal challenge to his eligibility to be president, she added that the matter can be fully resolved only by a constitutional amendment or a Supreme Court decision.

"The Constitution is ambiguous," Duggin said. "The McCain side has some really good arguments, but ultimately there has never been any real resolution of this issue. Congress cannot legislatively change the meaning of the Constitution.

And apparently, McCain's situation is further complicated because his birth isn't recorded in the consular records (as it should have been).

As I've stated before, I'd rather eat a razor blade than vote for McCain, but I really hope he's eligible to run.




As American as apple pie or baseball

_______
Hat tip: Kleinheider from Post Politics

Boris wins

Boris Johnson won the London mayoral election.

Brilliant.

My hatred for Ken Livingstone rivaled my political hatred for Dick Cheney, but being local - was probably more visceral. Livingstone's reign was divisive and expensive. I really believe that London will be better off without him. I can only say one good thing about him - Ken Livingstone genuinely loves London. I do believe it. But it's a love tainted by strange Gramscian political philosophies and a self-loathing hatred of the West demonstrated most strongly by his odd love-in with Islamist extremists. And it's hard to hold those views and do right by a town which, arguably, figures most importantly in the history of Western Civilization. I guess there's one more thing I kinda liked about Ken. I strongly supported Livingstone's anti-pigeon policy, which I hope Boris will continue.

As for the municipal qualities of Mr Johnson, I'm not sure. But I think he's actually going to do a pretty good job. Saying stupid, offensive things never seemed to hurt Ken. The best thing Boris Johnson can do is dismantle the strange gravy train that Ken Livingstone set up to provide succor to his cronies. The second best thing he can do is relatively little - allowing the far more accountable London boroughs to make decisions locally. And he can make a start by allowing councils more control over the main streets and pavements (sidewalks). As it is, Transport for London, has the (largely unused) enforcement powers for the sidewalks along "red routes" (main thoroughfares) and fail to make sure that pathways are clear and clean. This may seem like a trivial concern, but it actually impacts daily on the lives of millions of Londoners.

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Almost best of all, Boris Johnson struck a blow for the hair challenged everywhere. And for that, we mussy-headed few thank him. I explained this to an anti-Boris co-worker, who wondered why Boris couldn't be bothered to comb his hair. I even challenged her on her lack of tolerance for the disability of permanent bad hair day - a condition I've suffered from my whole life.

Of course, she probably should have said "Oh come on, your hair's not as bad as Johnson's."

But she didn't.

-0-

Political pundits everywhere are blaming Gordon Brown for the dismal results for Labour. His bad policies and his grim demeanor are certainly partly to blame. But I think the link starts to crumble when it comes to London. Ken Livingstone is very much his own man. He's won the mayoralty once as an Independent and once as the Labour candidate - and this campaign was disassociated from Labour as much as it could be - Ken literally returned to the colours he used as an Independent candidate.

And London is not the nation, it's both bigger and smaller than that. It's insulting to Boris Johnson, to Ken Livingstone and most of all to Londoners to assume that this election was driven by national policies. Love or hate for Ken was brewing strong before Gordon Brown ever stepped to the helm.

Crisis, what crisis

Labour suffered landslide losses in the local elections last night. It looks like the Prime Minister is in trouble. Well, it looked like Gordon Brown was in trouble before, but now there's some hard data.

For American readers, many folks in England elected some of their local councillors last night. Not the whole country, just some areas, and in some councils - just some councillors. (I know it's confusing). So you might say that it's not really a referendum on Gordo - but it is. And it is because in this country, local areas are where politicians traditionally have been grown - where a cadre of footsoldiers are what can win and lose you a general election.

And especially, when it looks like Labour may have been pushed into third place (behind the hopeless LibDems) and the Conservatives are winning seats in places where - as a BBC radio presenter put it - I didn't know there were any Tories there.

According to the beeb:

BBC research suggests the party has fallen into third place nationally with 24% of the vote, beaten by the Tories on 44% and Lib Dems on 25%.

So far they are the worst local poll results for Labour in 40 years.

But the party's chief whip Geoff Hoon told the BBC there was "no crisis" for Prime Minister Gordon Brown in the lead-up to the next general election.

Geoff Hoon says "no crisis" - what a loon, that Mr Hoon.

The Mayor of London

No return as yet. Fingers crossed that London follows the national trend.

Buddy backs Boris

Buddy backs Boris Johnson in London's mayoral elections. (Today!)

The Wright Stuff

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Barack Obama's [ex] pastor Jeremiah Wright has gone all nutso. He is like a pastor scorned and he's struck back in an alarming melange of pointed social critique and crazy conspiracy theory.

What a dumbass. I realise Wright's probably feeling pretty neglected by his protege, but really he should have just taken a leaf out of Peter Mandelson's book. He's a British politico and Tony Blair crony who suffered scandal after scandal - but knew when to slink off and shut up and he's been rewarded with a couple of comebacks and now a very cushy position in European government. Not only has the good reverend potentially damaged Obama's chances, he's almost certainly blown his own chances of national power straight out of the water.

Certain right wing bloggers have a race theory about this - that because Wright's ideology is based on pervasiveness of racism and oppression in America to the extent that a black man could never be president - he has to make sure that this remains the case if a black man gets close and torpedo his chances. Maybe, but I kind of doubt it. It smacks of ridiculousness. Besides, I don't really feel that electing a president who's black will any more relieve America of racial tension or redeem past crimes than electing a woman president will make sexism and misogyny a dim and distant memory. (Although I think either would have beneficial effects)

Like a lot of people who behave so self-destructively, Wright's behavior seemed pathological to me. Like he just couldn't help it. Like an ill-tempered couple who just can't stop picking fights with each other. Still, he's an adult, a man of stature and experience and really Reverend Wright should have known better.

-0-

Barack Obama has denounced Rev. Wright's words. He found them offensive. Well, good - I guess. But it struck me that what Obama really found offensive was that Wright wasn't following the party line anymore, wasn't giving Obama his due. After all, he'd heard 20 years of Wright's challenging sermons - but only a few minutes of Wright's criticisms of one Barack Obama.

A cut that's easy to maintain

There comes a time in every woman's life when she says "I can't be bothered with the elaborate 'dos. Just give me a nice simple haircut that takes about five minutes to fix and is easy to maintain."

For me, that point came when I was about ten or so. Roughly about the time I didn't want my mother to brush my hair anymore.

I just can't be bothered much with the whole hair thing. So this post isn't about hair. It's about gardening.

I've reached a point where I need a garden that take about five minutes to fix and is easy to maintain. My garden is quite small, but my plant collection and the fact that I've waaay overplanted means that it requires a fair bit of maintenance. Weeding, pruning, staking, feeding, mulching, lifting, dividing - and worst of all - pest control.

I've decided I'm going to pitch out a bunch of stuff and replant with minimum fuss plantings that I know can withstand me nemeses: the gastropods, the lily beetle and a nasty kind of root grub that goes after rhododendrons and impatiens (a plant I previously thought was easy peasy). I'm going to dig up all my oriental and asiatic lilies and I think I'm going to get rid of a large tree peony, too. (It's nice, but I'm afraid it's just too big for my small garden). I think I'm going to replace the lifted items with hellebores, day lilies, ferns, heuchera and white Japanese anemones. (It won't take many. The garden is small and there are some there already).

And best of all, I think I'm going to make my VolMom do much of the work when she's over in May.

I want less of this


grubs on impatiens


pretty, but evil


snail damage

More of these

hellebore


terracotta daylily


Japanese anemone - though I want the pure white kind


heuchera

Way to go PA

Hurray for Hillary!

ID please

My local cemetery often has football (soccer) related floral tributes. Lots and lots of soccer balls. Football strips (jerseys) and crests - mostly in Arsenal and Chelsea colours.






And the occasional Manchester United strip:




But here's one I don't recognise. Which football team is this? It's driving me crazy. Sam, do you know?

The ten pence punch

In Gordon Brown's last budget as Chancellor he messed around with the tax bandings - that is he adjusted marginal rates. He announced it as a tax cut. For some - mostly those of higher than median wages, it genuinely was. But for the very low paid, it was tax hike. The first level of taxation was at 10% - quite a low rate of income tax - and to me absolutely right that the first tranche of taxable income should be taxed at a low rate - to reduce the burden on the low paid. Gordon Brown's budget essentially doubled that rate of tax for the working poor. Interestingly enough, the press failed to pick up on it for a day or two and spun Gordon's spin as if they were paid hacks. But here's what I wrote about it:

Anyway, Gordo likes to make out that he's a swell and generous kind a guy. Sure, he taxes the rich, but only to give to the poor - especially the poor little tots.

Only it's a terrible lie and his current budget is a prime example. The headlines all read that he's cut the basic tax rate, but he's managed to actually increase the taxes on the very low paid while reducing taxes on those earning over $100,000.

Labour will tell you that the very low paid with children can always apply for tax credits. Sure, but you're forced to apply as a supplicant to Gordon Brown and entangle yourself into a notoriously knotty bureacracy. (The Treasury admitted only last week the system of credits was baffling.) But the point is that the young and potentially aspirational folks on low wages are hit with yet another Gordon Brown sucker punch.

This country has long had a problem of keeping people mouldering away on benefits - de-skilling and degenerating. For many it doesn't pay to work. With the abolition of the 10 pence marginal rate it pays even less.

And surely, if Labour is to stand for anything, it must be for labour - you know - the workers - and not screwing them out of the wages they earn cleaning toilets, stocking shelves and picking up trash by the side of the road.

Most Labour politicians and left-wing pundits were oddly silent on the matter. And they've kept schtum for nearly a year. If I were to be charitable, I would say that they'd perhaps been kept silent by the party whips - told to shut up until Gordon's coronation last summer, then to zip their lips until Autumn election (which didn't happen), then to twiddle their thumbs until this year's budget was announced in case this error was corrected.

But the current chancellor Alistair Darling - on orders from the true head of the exchequer no doubt - has decided to go ahead and scrap the 1o p rate.

This is bad policy. Here's something I wrote about that a while ago.

The point is, of course, that everyone has to start somewhere. And unless you're the privileged child of wealth, the place you start is at a very low wage job. You work your way up. And you should be rewarded for trading a life of penurious leisure for penurious labor by keeping as much of your wage as possible when you're at that rough, rotten bottom rung of the economic ladder.

It's not as if the low-paid don't pay taxes. They pay a lot of tax (proportionately). They pay taxes on goods and services. They are almost certainly paying other payroll taxes (FICA in the US, National Insurance in the UK). And they can't escape the taxman with sheltered income and offshore accounts.

I believe in the hand up, not the handout. But forcing the poor to hand-over disproportionately, making their precarious situation all the more tottering is just wrong.

Now the Labour back benches are in turmoil. And they should be. Gordon Brown is concerned only so much as in threatens his (weakening) grip on power - but still refuses to acknowledge the harm this policy will do.

Shame on him.

Things I'd like to blog about

The Ten-P tax
The London mayoral elections
an IPPR report on why we should side with the Muslim Brotherhood (bad idea, btw)
The dreary cold weather (cruel.April.month)
Our colds
the implosion of Gordon Brown
the weirdness of the Shannon Matthews case

but I can't 'cause I'm too tired to even drag up links

My first movie on flickr

My first movie on flickr
Originally uploaded by London looks

Flickr is now allowing users to upload short (90 seconds or less) video clips. Like some users, I'm not too sure about it. But we'll see.

Perfect pansies

facing up to it, originally uploaded by London looks.

This perfect little viola was on a grave in the local cemetery. Mine never look this good. VolMom's a dab hand at pansy rearing - apparently there's some kind of special pansy fertilizer that can make all the difference (she was tipped off by the VolAunt) - and it's remarkably and counter-intuitively high in nitrogen (I'm told). I've never seen it for sale in this country.

In the interests of global peace and security

I don't believe it! Gordon Brown has finally said something doesn't make me queasy. He wants to expand the Anglosphere, by deepening relations between Britain and America, or so he says in the Wall Street Journal. And he has a whole host of policy prescriptions backed by nebulous spending commitments.

And since our little family embodies the Anglo-American bond, we should get a grant. In the interests of global peace and security, of course.



British and American

In the mouth, not on the mouth

In the mouth, not on the mouth, originally uploaded by London looks.

The Vol-in-Law needs to work on his technique a little.

Cross selling

Cadbury's, the British chocolatier (confectioner is the real word, I think), has been running a series of high concept ads. And by high concept, I mean weird and not much to do with chocolate.

The first in the series was a gorilla banging on a drum to the tune of Phil Collins Something in the Air Tonight. What's that to do with candy bars, you ask? Nothing, as far as I can tell, I reply.

The second is short film of airport trucks racing around, losing your luggage (no doubt the trucks and the suitcases have escaped from Terminal 5) to the tune of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now. The ad is brilliant in the sense that it's beautiful and watchable, but I still don't want to eat their chocolate.

The ad has, however, led directly to me and the Vol-in-Law rumbling about how we don't have any Queen in our CD collections. And today, I placed an order for best-of collection.

Class claims

The Vol-in-Law has had a high school friend visiting him this week. This friend is working class. His claim to working class status stem primarily from the fact that his father is working class in the traditional sense. That is, he works in a skilled, manual trade.

Now, while this friend was here - my husband tried to convince him that we weren't as solidly middle class as we appear. I didn't think that was particularly fair on me, as I believe that I am firmly of the middle class* - and of the professional/academic variety at that. My family has enough diplomas and certificates to wall paper a small north-facing wall of a bijou pied-a-terre. I'm not sure why the Vol-in-Law found it necessary to do this, but perhaps it's one of those weird British affectations all mixed in with some kind reverse snobbery. At any rate, the ViL swore blind that we weren't nearly as middle class as some of our acquaintances. This proof by comparison is a fairly weak one in my book and the working class fellow wasn't buying it at all.

"Yer the most middle class people I know," he declared in his thick Ulster brogue.
"That may very well be the case, but that doesn't mean we're like the middle class of London" said I.

But certainly, it must appear that way. The ViL is a lecturer and I have an ill-defined job snuffling at the public trough. We serve some kind of exotic vegetables at nearly every meal (roasted fennel again or shall we have crushed celeriac?). We have art on the wall and ninety percent of the food we try to feed our baby is organic and made in France.

But the friend's working class claims are muddy, too. My husband's working class friend, for a long time, did not have a job. He claimed benefits. Under New Labour terminology this underscores his working-class-ness, though why this should be I don't know. I would tend to put that kind of behaviour in the scrounger category. To be fair, this fellow is from a working class, Protestant area of Belfast and in the past jobs weren't so easy to find. On the other hand, this fellow has a degree and I reckon that the reason he was forced into working a normal (low-skilled manual labor) job was because he earned too much money to claim benefits anymore. And the source of this income? Selling hobbyist books that he wrote and illustrated. Yes, that's right, the scrounger was kicked off benefits because he was simply too successful as a man of letters. So exactly how working class is that?

But really, the whole discussion leaves me baffled. So the best course of action is to turn to a reliable source - The Telegraph - for a quiz that will settle the score.

And how did I score? Well, I was - as I expected - on the cusp between two categories. I'll let you guess which.

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*When I declared this, the ViL said "Yes, in Lawrenceburg."

UPDATE: The quiz I included was for British- Americans may like to try these quizzes. The home decor one certainly got to who I really am (and it's a bit lower than I came out on the Brit quiz).

self medicating

I used to love me some whiskey. I'm partial to Jack. But since pregnancy and what with the breastfeeding and all, I've barely had a sniff much less a sip in nineteen months.

I have a cold. I've almost completely lost my voice. My throat hurts and my eyes are bleary. Time for a house call by Dr Daniels.

Let me just say, I'm feeling pretty mellow.

American Idol Shocker - total spoiler

OK, so on my last post I made a little joke about Michael Johns. And no one commented. No one even said the wallaby was cute (which he/she/it certainly was).


Is it because y'all knew that he got sent home in a shocking turnout?

Yes, here in the UK we're a couple days behind.

The Vol-in-Law checked the outcome on line because we realised we probably wouldn't find out til nearly midnight - and frankly we can't stay up anymore. He found out, his jaw dropped and then said "I can't even say it."

Who? Who? I said "Not that little David Archuleta. Not...no, not Michael Johns."

He handed me the laptop and my jaw dropped, too.

Dang.

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In other news about foreigners on American Idol, I just want the American people to know that Gordon Brown doesn't normally look all chirpy and happy and smiley like that. (I couldn't find a picture of his appearance in a quick search) No - normally he has a rictus grin and a creepy demeanor. I guess the fact that he was getting praised on American tv for dipping his hand in my pocket (once again)* just warmed his ice cold soul.

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*Not that mosquito nets aren't a good thing to spend money on - but I rather think it was the dipping into the pocket rather than the malaria prevention which made Gordon feel so warm and cuddly.

wallaby

wallaby, originally uploaded by London looks.

Tonight while watching American Idol, Simon Cowell called Michael Johns a wannabe.

I thought he said wallaby.

You know 'cause he's Australian and all.

How 'bout them Vols?

1987 1989

1991 1996 1997 1998

2007

2008

Congratulations Lady Vols and Coach Summitt once again.

Trouble in Tibet

I thought the boycott of the Beijing Olympics by celebrity luminaries on the basis of Chinese involvement in Darfur was ridiculous. I'm no fan of the Chinese communist government, but really... I thought it was fairly laughable considering all the other nasty stuff that China has done and continues to do in terms of human rights, property rights and civil rights to its own people.

OK, so the Chinese sold weapons to the Sudanese. They probably also sold them contaminated pet food and lead painted toys, or at least they would have, had the Sudanese been in the market for such things. I don't think China really cares about the oppression of this or that group in the Sudan. They just wanted to sell some guns, just like they sell some guns to all kinds of people. If that's a measure of moral depravity*, then the US and the UK and the Czechs and so on should just cover their heads in global shame.

So at least with the Tibet thing, there's a legitimate reason to be hacked off with China. I'm glad that expenditure of celebrity energy is going to something real.



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*I'm not saying it's not.

Very tired

I know I've not been up to my usual standard of wit and wry observational humor. But I am sleep deprived. Buddy isn't doing well on the whole sleep thing.

I am, as the Brits would say, knackered.

What a difference a day makes

Yesterday:





Today:



Yes, that's snow.



Snow in April. Where's the Spring? Spring, Spring, where are you?

Radio wave

Used to be, on Sunday mornings, I'd switch it over to AM and tune in to the only and only country music station in the country to listen to a couple of hours of the classics while I cleaned the kitchen or worked in the garden.

The radio station went bust a couple of years ago and it hasn't been replaced. The development of digital radio brought Hungarian talk radio, and Nigerian faith music and French pop - but no country music.

It's a travesty, really.

And frankly, I've never been able to keep the kitchen as clean since then.

But some things in radio do last. Frank Strovel III - blogger at Left of the Dial - this week celebrated 15 years in his radio gig, by playing the classics on a Wednesday morning.

I feel for her, I kinda do

I'm no fan of Naomi Campbell. I think celebrities get away with far too much and appalling, base, rude behavior is excused and overlooked far too often.

Ms Campbell's behavior has been consistently appalling, assaulting maids, suing the press, throwing fits and on and on.

And, of course, there's really no excuse for spitting in the face of a police officer. At the very least it's a stupid thing to do.

But having had my own blood-boiling run-ins with Heathrow staff, understanding that the newly opened Terminal Five is a cluster-fuck of enormous proportions, and seeing the mountain of lost luggage*, I must admit I felt more than a twinge of sympathy.


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*btw, all that lost luggage is auctioned off within walking distance from my house. I've never been to the auction, but I've always wanted to go.

Not really in the mood for a photo shoot today

Not really in the mood for a photo shoot today, originally uploaded by London looks.

This week, on the day I don't work. I took Buddy to his usual Wednesday playgroup. A notice on the door said that there was going to be a "team" photographing for "research" on the role of women in economic decisions in the household.

There wasn't a team there, just one of the regular mums with her very nice Nikon. And I couldn't really see how taking photos of children playing is social research. Almost certainly what it really was, was marketing research. She's probably a part time employee of an ad agency and she's being paid boo-coo bucks to take shots of the tykes and what they're wearing... Great work if you can get it.

Buddy is a regular male model. He's a Zoolander in training. And when he saw her camera he started striking a pose. That kid seriously mugs up. He no longer had eyes for mommy, but was smiling coyly up at the woman whose camera cost 3 or 4 times what mine did.

I guess Buddy wasn't dressed cute enough (2nd or third hand pair of overalls, shirt from WalMart) - or maybe I wasn't (I don't even want to tell you what I was wearing) cause she didn't turn her lens on him. I wanted to tell the woman - "C'mon, that camera's digitial - just shoot a few frames of the kid. And if you can't do that, at least pretend to take a shot. He's only a baby, he'll be fooled." Instead she muttered something about him being a cute kid and moved on.

In the afternoon, I took Buddy out for his usual walk in the cemetery in his designer sweater, as you do. I propped him in front of sward of daffodils and began snapping. But apparently, the magic was gone. I couldn't get him to really raise a smile. Of course, maybe he thought I wanted him to go for the moody look. Or perhaps, I'd inadvertently set him in a pile of cremains. (I did look.)

Lottery

Oregon is running a lottery for places in its state run health insurance scheme. The BBC takes its usual sneering tone for stories on America, but in this instance it's probably deserved.