Sunday, June 11

So, another election has come and gone, this time in the UK. No longer, though, do we accept the result with equanimity and move on. No, we'll now endure several weeks of recriminations, head-shaking, detailed analysis and hand-wringing, until the last drop of interest has been squeezed out of the corpse.

Of the elections held recently, only the French one seems to have been conducted with any dignity. Maybe, that's an illusion and our local media doesn't give us all the detail, but Macron seems to be a reasonable fellow and has, at least, saved the French from the excesses of Marine Le Pen.

Having banked everything on the result and lost, Theresa May, to save her government, has rushed into a coalition with a right-wing Irish party founded by the loud-mouthed hate-filled Reverend Ian Paisley, who came to prominence during 'the troubles'. Just when you think things were improving, some unthinking politician has given them another microphone to spout their particular brand of venom. It's a funny kind of Christianity these people espouse.

One saving aspect of the U.K. Election is the resurgence of young people voting. Here in Australia, we're used to compulsory voting and voting on a Saturday, so neglecting to or refusing to vote is not such an issue here but it's a growing problem in the UK and the US. Only 66% of eligible voters bothered to turn out in the UK in 2015, down from a high of 83.9% in 1950, with similar numbers in the US.

We still need to work on getting more of our young people to register and to vote. While ever we leave the power to decide in the hands of older white men and their compliant spouses, nothing will change. The young people in the UK didn't bother to vote in the Brexit Referendum and have seen the future being taken out of their hands. Unfortunately, the same is happening here. If the only young people voting are products of the Young Liberals or Young Labor, then heaven help us.

Saturday, June 10

Is Scottish humour becoming fashionable?  First we had the three year old wee girl from Glagow talking about the Easter Bunny.  The she pops up again on TV this week commenting on the UK Elections.  This morning, Facebook recycled the hilarious video about the Voice Recognition lift which didn't understand the Scottish accent.  Here's a link to YouTube if you missed it.

https://youtu.be/5FFRoYhTJQQ

When Billy Connolly was asked to explain the Scottish sense of humour, he offered the following joke.

A miner died down the pit and the foreman was sent to give his wife the bad news.  He knocked on the door and, when a woman opened it, he said, "Are you the widow MacGregor?"

"Ma name's MacGregor, but ah'm no' a widow," she replied.

"Oh, aye," said the foreman. "Huv Ah got news fur you."

Finally, here's a little photo which captures the self-deprecating element which permeates so much of the humour of Scotland.

Friday, June 9

I'm sitting in the Launceston Library enjoying the sun through the window. Things have come a long way, because I'm surrounded by chatting people and the smell of coffee. No more the tutting librarians demanding silence nor the smell of dusty books. Going to the library is now a social outing and I'm grateful for the change.

I've come up to town with Jamie to have their new car's lights looked at. Nera is at work and the local auto electrician in Deloraine seemed to have no idea. He rambled on about HID lights and problems with ballast and googling a solution. We know the car doesn't have HID lights and we suspect he really didn't want the job, so we've come up to visit the Mazda dealer. His best guess is it's a problem with the switch.

Anyway, I've taken the chance to spend an hour or two at the library and, later, we'll pick up some shopping from Coles. Deloraine has a Woolworths but there are some items that we can only get from the opposition.

i'm reading a review in The Age of the new film, Churchill, which covers the few days leading up to the Normandy landings in WW2. Brian Cox, who plays Churchill, was born in Dundee and I didn't know that Churchill was the Member for Dundee for many years. He wasn't well-liked in Dundee, nor Scotland more generally(I can still hear my mother's voice saying "old war-monger!"). Brian Cox tells the story of Churchill going to a meeting in Dundee when he was ill. Apparently he paid a couple of locals to carry him up the steps. Another fellow asked the labourers how much they had been paid to carry him. "A pound," they said. "Well, I'll pay you 2 pounds if you drop him," was the reply.

The movie hasn't received very good reviews as yet, but I suspect we'll still make an effort to see it.

Thursday, June 8

We find ourselves, without any effort on our part, connected to Netflix. If I had been asked last week where Netflix appeared on our list of priorities, it would have been so far down it would have been out of sight. However, notwithstanding my lack of interest, it's now part of our consciousness.

Jamie and Nera recently bought a new TV. It's bigger and has a curved screen. No doubt, there's a good scientific reason to have a warped screen, but I'm unaware of what that is. My own assessment is that it is just another marketing ploy. Electronics companies have to keep inventing new products or they'd go broke. Last year it was Fit watches, now it's curved TVs.

Anyway, as part of the new arrangement, they signed up for Netflix - only $8 per month, and for an extra $3 they can add another 'screen' at a different address. So that's our designation - a second screen at a different address. And, with the increasingly appalling offerings on free-to-air TV, Netflix is an attractive option.

The world has certainly moved on. I think we had to pay around $45 per month for Austar 15 years ago, then I spent innumerable hours scratching through torrent sites looking for interesting series and now, for the cost of a cup of coffee, we have access to more TV than we could ever watch. Add the delights of SBS on Demand, and we may never have to leave the house again.

Sunday, June 4

A regular part of my Sunday morning routine is to watch Insiders on ABC. I enjoy hearing the various guests give their point of view, especially as they seem to represent both sides of politics. This morning, of course, the news is full of the idiocy of Donald Trump pulling out of the climate change accord, and the events unfolding in London.

Instead of looking at the big picture, I've been musing on something closer to home. When I was in hospital last year, Marilyn decided my pyjamas needed an update. I've never regarded pyjamas as a fashion item and was generally content with a 3-pack of shorts from Kmart for $10. I'd given up matching tops and bottoms many years ago and, now that our home is warmer, I rarely need a top.

However, what you wear in a hospital is something else entirely so I wasn't surprised to be presented with a couple of pairs of sleeping shorts and appropriate shirts. They were pretty impressive. The shorts are a bit longer than I was used to, in an attractive pseudo-tartan material with a generous cord for adjusting the waist. They also have pockets.

I would have thought pockets in pyjamas were like ashtrays on a motor bike. What on earth would you need to put in them for use while you're asleep? Mobile phone? Car keys? Surely, the best place to leave things overnight is on the bedside cabinet or, if you're worried about burglars, under the pillow.

Then I realised that what I was wearing were lounging pyjamas - the kind of pyjamas you can wear around the house during the day and still retain your modesty. Pyjamas designed for the retired gentleman who wishes to lounge around on balmy Sunday mornings while watching Insiders. Fashionable, at last!

Saturday, June 3

I find that, as I get older, I am getting more intolerant of people who demand attention, and I'm fed up with a media which feeds their unnatural narcissism. So this week, I'm over Donald Trump (still), I'm over Schapelle Corby (again) and I'm over Margaret Court.

Like many others, when Donald Trump was elected, I tipped that he would be assassinated before too long. My jaundiced view of American society encouraged me to think that some madman would exercise his Second Amendment right to blow away someone he disagreed with. But it hasn't happened, so the only conclusion I can draw is that all the gun-toting nuts in America must be Trump supporters.

So, the torture of reading the increasingly desperate Facebook posts calling for his impeachment goes on.

Can it be true? Do I really agree with Karl Stefanovic? Apparently so, as he and I are both of a mind that Schapelle must be denied the oxygen of publicity in the hope that she will go away and let us get back our equilibrium. Fat chance! Happily, the ABC has resisted the temptation to get involved in the feeding frenzy so it remains a beacon of good sense in a .... I think I'll let that sentence find its own way home.

And, what can one say about Margaret Court? One of our greatest ever sportspeople has been bitten by the religion bug and now believes that gives her the right to attack other people, criticising them for how her God made them. Doesn't she see the contradiction in her argument? If God made BillieJean King like that, who are we to criticise? Or is Margaret one of those blinkered individuals who believes that homosexuality is a lifestyle choice? Probably, but I wish that Christians like Margaret Court would focus on the message of Jesus, Love thy Neighbour, and leave the Old Testament beliefs where they belong - in the past.

I don't think they should rename Margaret Court Arena, and I think it would be childish for players to boycott it. Margaret was outstanding in her sport and that should be applauded, but her current attempts to destroy her reputation are sad.

Friday, June 2

It's hard to believe that Macie had her first birthday yesterday. Tempus fugit.

David Astle produces the cryptic crossword for the Sydney Morning Herald and, for many years, was the wordsmith on the SBS show Letters and Numbers. He also occasionally appears on the ABC, talking about how the English language is changing. I'm reading one of his books at the moment.

He is certainly a ratbag and the book introduces the reader to other ratbags with very specific interests. Roger Caillous, for example, made it his life's work to categorise games into four groups. crosswords belong in the Agon box, where games of competition go. Charades is a game of Mimicry. Alea takes in games of chance, and Ilinx encompasses games of giddiness, like rolling down a hill.

Several new words there but I don't have room in my brain to remember them.

Every year, new words come into our language. Technology throws up a lot and people like Donald Trump even invent them - covfefe? Others just seem to catch on. It seems that I am a blogan, a person who write a blog. I used to think of myself as a blogmeister but that is a bit pretentious.

I don't like blogan. Maybe it raises too many echoes of another very Australian word with unpleasant connotations. But, when I take a closer look, there's an 'l' of a difference between blogan and bogan. Boom boom!