Loud noise forces 80% of Customers to leave a Pub

And who could blame them? Most people use the pub as a meeting point, and if you can’t hear your friends speak or you’re not feeling comfortable, then it’s only natural to move on. The last thing you want to do is be involved in any kind of social disorder. Crowds of drunken young lads isn’t going to attract any other customers, and you’ll just be known as that sort of pub. Licensees need to take responsibility to create an atmosphere that everyone can enjoy. Of course, there are some exceptions to this, like a good band or some background muzak; but they really need to take charge when someone’s favourite song is put on the jukebox for the fifth time in a row. Pubs need to recognise that people want to relax during the day and unwind in the early evening. It’s at night that the party atmosphere should be cranked up, unless it’s a special occasion that’s worth celebrating with the locals. Hopefully the 80% haven’t all left the pub in one go.

Visa La Manchester

We needed a Chinese visa, and had to attend an interview at either the London or Manchester office. While the London office would be easier to get to, it would be a lot busier and more expensive. It turned out that it wasn’t the embassy that we were visiting but an office acting on their behalf. We set up the online application and booked our transport to the interview. We got to Manchester as planned which is a miracle in itself as we were on the motorway, then found the embassy and decided to go to a bit of a wander to kill some time. Rain suddenly arrived, and we took shelter in the Manchester Central Library. We explored some of the exhibitions. Some of them were historical and some were interactive maps telling us about the local area. The highlight for me was the central reading room upstairs. This was a great huge dome and the doors echoed across the whole chamber every time someone entered. Outside, there was a music library and someone was tinkering the ivories on the on-site piano. It was well worth a look.

'I see football as an art and all players are artists. If you are a top artist, the last thing would do is paint a picture somebody else has already painted'.

-Cristiano Ronaldo. 

Anyone can win with the right amount of training. But it’s how you do it that counts. If your team is going to win every game then eventually you’ll just become a statistic and people will ignore you. It’s about being remembered, and to do that you have to do something different; whether it’s the way you celebrate your victory or the way that you achieve it. If you have to indulge in a bit of showmanship then so be it. Don’t overdo it with ego though. People don’t like to be belittled. But it doesn’t just apply to sport. If you can make the experience a unique one, people will come back time and time again to see the same experience in action. But of course, whether they expect the same outcome again or a completely new experience is down to you to judge and decide. The show must go on.

Blue Brexit

I’m annoyed. Annoyed that our government has failed the first hurdle of Brexit by passing the manufacturing process of the new British passports onto the French. Of course the government will still be responsible for printing the information; but giving revenue to the French for this service over its own businesses doesn’t portray a lot of hope for going it alone. I thought we were trying to keep things local. Of course, this begs a bigger question. Is there a point of owning a UK passport anymore? If we’re required to have a visa just to enter the rest of Europe; why hold a passport? The old motto of allowing the bearer to pass through borders unhindered doesn’t really apply any more as we’re probed, screened and searched. And of course, the authorities aren’t trusting each other as we’re also screened at the other end. Are they checking to see if these flights have stopped along the way? In a digital age, the computer should check us in as soon as the flight has landed. There’s a lot of work to be done. 

The Broken Worker

Behold the broken worker. Once there was a time when he was king of his kingdom; happy to socialise with his fellow man after a hard day’s labour. His leisure activities knew no bounds and he could spend his free time as he wished visiting and exploring as he pleased. There’d be tales of his exploits upon his return and conquests over his workmates. Now he’s limited to what he can do. He spends his days in the pub greeting his friends as before but every transaction has to last in an attempt to save every penny. Each day is only about how he feels and the treatment that he receives from those that attempt to heal him. His social posts are now grumbles compared to the awe that they inspired before. The positivity has diminished. He feels useless because he can’t contribute. But he must go on in the hope that things will get better.

How I got my Driving Licence

One story that everyone likes to tell is their driving licence test. It takes a lot of cost and determination here. I took more lessons and didn’t commit to it for a while because I was studying away from home and only took lessons when I could afford them. As a result, I passed the written exam twice. I scored 100% the first time round but the examiners give you two years after passing this test to pass the practical; and it’s only with passes on both tests can you apply for a full licence. Mine expired because I never got up to test standard; and when I took it the second time they’d added a new element which were hazard perception videos. I still passed this test but didn’t get full marks. Then came test day. I was on the road with the examiner bricking it and we were on a busy dual carriageway. I was passing an entry ramp and couldn’t give way. I didn’t check any traffic behind me and as we passed the merging vehicle was forced to stop and honked at me. That was it; I knew I’d failed so I just relaxed with the realisation that I’d have to pass another day. We finished the circuit and returned to the test centre to be told that I’d passed with four minor errors. My instructor told me afterwards that he’d just put me in for the experience of it and he was amazed that I’d passed. He was gobsmacked. 

What do you think of Poetry?

Many people think that poetry is dead. And don’t forget, it’s meant to be heard. It’s no good publishing a book of poetry if you can’t supply the rhythm to go with it. That’s why so many people struggle with classical poetry because they read it as prose rather than verse. You’ll only engage contemporary readers if there’s some good puns or rude words like in a saucy limerick. You certainly don’t get famous names circulating the arts halls any more reading out their latest works. But when you think about it; it’s stripped down into other mediums like song. You’ve got to make people listen to your lyrics and it’s difficult to make music if you can’t find a rhythm to make things rhyme. Today’s reflections are different from the eighteenth century, and I imagine Shelly would be cracking jokes at his audience as a stand-up comedian if he was still alive today So like everything, poetry has evolved.

Devious Distortion

I was a bit nervous about posting my personal documents online. I was worried that even if fraudsters got hold of some of my information, they may be able to extract it for their gain. Then after tweaking the photo ready for uploading, I saw how easy it was to distort the photo and hide the information. For starters, all the letters are swapped in different fields. Then instead of being blurred; they’re warped into a different pattern. Any facial features are blurred and distorted before being mixed up so that it’s difficult to tell if it’s an eye or a nostril. Then the whole image is edited into a stained-glass window so that hopefully you can’t tell what document it is. I’m still worried that someone’s got some deblurring software out there though. So just to be sure, I’ve inverted the image. It’s like a magic eye gone wrong.

Insh Hall

I follow a lane hidden amongst the bushes wondering where the sat-nav is taking me while an embankment containing the main road is above me. I approach the lake and find myself at the base of the complex; though I’m on the wrong side. A quick journey around the bend takes me to the main accommodation entrance and I squeeze into a space in front of a log cabin having no idea if I’m OK parking there. A quick wander round tells me that no-one’s of site to check me in (which I was pre-warned about) but there’s a list on a screen detailing who is in each room. But my name’s not on the screen. I check my e-mails which does give me a room number but has a foreign name in place. I head to the room and fortunately the key’s in the other side of the door. The room is functional enough and there’s tea, coffee, biscuits and even a TV. The shower is an interesting design; it’s a pit built into the bathroom. I move my gear in then decide to check out the bar. They have cask ale but it’s a bit on the dear side but then again where else are you going to go? I did get a good night’s sleep and the breakfast was satisfactory. Then it was time to decide what to do.

Dragged out Dress-up

Someone got the bright idea of dressing up for the evening. There’s some very interesting costumes about. I can see the appeal of a mermaid at the seaside, and it took me a few glances to see work out that they weren’t pink fairy wings but that of a jet because it’s Skye from Paw Patrol. Whether it was a fancy-dress evening or the girls chose to wear a costume for the night remains to be seen. It looks like a very forced pose early in the evening, as there’s still a few empty tables and people in afternoon apparel rather than evening dress. Usually people will hit these clubrooms earlier on in the evening to stake out the best tables for a great view of the stage. The more of you there are in your group; the easier this is to organise as you can share the burden.  Perhaps they were interrupted from playing to pose for a picture for their relatives. Maybe they’d found some new friends.    

Christmas Eve (2015)

This was a bit dull. After all, most of it is about people who are stuck in elevators. The highest casting star was stuck on his own, and at times I wondered if ghosts were going to visit him. They certainly had that part written out for him. The characters were very serious and made little humour of the situation; the fashion models were just annoying. Most of the characters seemed to have something similar in common; they all had occupations. Their discussions were very similar and the whole thing lacked drama. It would have been exciting if the patient had gone into a critical condition, or there had been a race to stop the photographer from raping the model. At times I also wondered if the bodybuilder and one of the orchestra members were having a relationship since they both shared the same tattoo. It would have had a nicer ending that way.

Wacky Weymouth

Once a year, my little nieces are treated to the seaside delights of Weymouth. They hole up there for about a week with my sister-in-law’s extended family in a caravan. It’s a proper site with a pool, it’s near to the see and there’s a club with evening entertainment as well. They’re not too keen on donkey rides but they do like the colourful beach train that’s pulled by the horses. On a rainy day the arcades and aquarium are nearby and there’s lots of traditional independent shops to explore as well, provided that they’ve saved up their pennies. One of their favourite activities is to walk to the marina and watch the boats come in when the bridge is raised. They also like taking a walk to check the time on the clock tower. But their favourite thing of all is the fairground rides. They love the colourful characters and they want to ride everything.   

Bicycle Valley #dreamdiary 85

I’m visiting the East Midlands. In the middle of the countryside there’s a valley just for bicycles alongside a main road. You can hire bikes to go around the two-mile course, visit the zoo at the other end of the park; or even take a walking tour of the area. At the top of one side of the valley is the entrance which has a shop where you can hire bikes and other wheel related vehicles, and purchase souvenir clips and spoke decorations of your visit. There’s a makeshift tree area for gentleman’s conveniences; while ladies must queue for a single cubicle. We’re told that there are better facilities on the opposite side of the valley; including a cafe. The guide tells you about the history of the land and how they managed to repurpose it for the community. We go through a large brick arch which has three gates and have to wait for them to open to allow us access to the pedestrianised areas. In the middle is a large lake; and halfway up the other side of the valley is a pub named the Red Lion that runs alongside the main road. We’re told that this does excellent carveries. I make a note of this for my return journey. 

Knife Rife

I don’t see the need to carry a dirty great big blade around. Surely a utility knife would suffice? It has lots of practical uses and folds away. A butcher’s knife would be acceptable; especially if you’re a travelling chef. But you’d take pride in your tools and have them in a concealed case or at the very least a pouch. Otherwise it would be questionable if someone was carrying it about with them. If it’s for a specific purpose there are plenty of other tools out there; like an axe for example, or a pair of shears. Theatrical knives shouldn’t be real anyway otherwise there’s a risk involved to the actors using them. But where are these survival knives coming from? If it’s ornamental then it should be in a display case. And military knives should only be used by the military. So why aren’t these knives being licensed? Why do these products exist? Why isn’t there a clampdown on the manufacturers?  There’s a lot of work to do out there. 

The Cosy Car #devilsdaughter 10

The couple made their way into the lobby, Lucinda leading the way while having to duck under the occasional chandelier with Luke trailing with awe in her wake. When they reached the reception desk, Lucinda looked down upon the clerk and asked him to arrange a limo to take them to the mall. While they waited, Luke decided to cash in his loyalty points and booked the honeymoon suite for the evening. Outside, a metallic red stretch limousine pulled up. Lucinda got in first, and Luke noticed how the vehicle shook as it struggled to take the extra weight. Inside, she took up the whole of the plush velvet back seat, and it was easier for Luke to just curl up on top of her. They set off for the mall and were there in literally no time at all as the morning rush hour had come to an end. ‘Could you wait for us?’ asked Lucinda. Your car is so cosy.’ 

‘No problem’ replied the chauffeur. He’d wait all day to keep this woman in his sights for as long as possible.  

Dippy's Day Out

It’s time to get out there and explore; thrash the old tail around. I’m getting a bit stiff standing upright in the same place. It’s all very well being kept indoors all the time but sometimes it’s nice to see the sun again. But even that is hard to find. A lot of the stone has been flattened and shaped into squares. I’m either going to have to walk around it or see if I can topple it over; though it might take a while. There’s also these large round shiny things. They might be a bit easier to get through, though there are gaps between them, like a canyon. They go on forever. Where do they end? Luckily there’s still some trees around, though there’s not too many of them. I’d better munch on them delicately. Hopefully the leaves will grow back again. I wonder if there’s any more around.

The Coronavirus Chorus

It’s quite strange that the Government has chosen “Happy Birthday” as its chosen mantra to encourage people to wash their hands for a set amount of time. It’s embarrassing. I appreciate that there’s a need to choose a song that everyone’s familiar with; but wishing a contagious virus compliments on its existence kind of defies the point. I’m glad that other authorities have taken matters into their own hands and have decided to be creative with other songs. I’m surprised that there’s not a new chart-topper encouraging kids to wash their hands, and I dread to think what our Eurovision Song Contest entry would be this year. I certainly wouldn’t want to be Johnson’s karaoke partner. But what’s also strange is that washing your hands has been portrayed as revolutionary advice when it’s surely back to basics. You might as well say ‘wash your hands, clean your teeth, go to bed or you’ll be dead’.

What Dippy Did Next

Crikey. It’s a bit small in here, isn’t it? My head’s nearly touching the ceiling. Are they smaller up north? I feel that I could quite easily step over this fence and help myself to a snack. Oh wait, I’m dead. Never mind. If I move myself towards the window, I can get a brilliant view of the city that those smaller creatures can’t see. Oh wait, all they have to do is walk through the cave’s exit and they’ll see the same thing. But why did they have to paint my bones black? They weren’t always this colour; not that I’ve seen my own bones before but I have seen the bones of others. Is that maybe why I’ve managed to last this long? Did all the other dinosaurs get it wrong? Or has something happened to me. Never mind. In a few months time I’ll be put back into pieces and pushed into creates for my journey further up north. I hope they don’t lose my other big toe.

"I can accept failure, but I can't accept not trying"

-Michael Jordan. Finding an excuse not to do something is easy. You don’t want to fail or let others down, and it’s easier to let others take charge. But to not attempt to try is cowardly. It shows a lack of confidence in yourself and that you’re used to staying the same. How do you know that something isn’t achievable if you don’t try? How will others think if you’re not willing to have a go? Will they be likely to rely on you in the future? Of course, there’s always a risk involved. What are the consequences if the task isn’t completed? And if you don’t achieve the task, you can use it as a learning process. But standing by without taking any action removes yourself from any involvement with the task, and others may see an opportunity to assert dominance over you. It’s time to move forward. You just might surprise yourself.

Dippy the Dinosaur

We had a bit of time to kill during our visit to Birmingham so we decided to pop into the museum to see if we could meet Dippy. This was a famous skeleton of a Diplodocus that used to live in London’s Natural History Museum. They’ve now settled for a whale and Dippy is on tour while they’re deciding what to do with him. There was a bit of a gathering outside the exhibition hall but most people just seemed to be hanging around rather than queuing. As it was the first week of the school holidays they were doing timed entries and there was a chance that we wouldn’t get in, but we approached the desk and the receptionist invited us to join the queue through the doors. And there it was; the remains of a dinosaur was right in front of me. I had my photo taken and we looked at some of the smaller skeletons that were part of the exhibition, then we moved onto Mum’s destination of choice which was to have a browse around Marks and Spencer. 

Stating the Obvious

Don’t you just hate it when your customers state the obvious? One of the comments that I get when I offer to carry heavy items for them is “I’m parked just outside”. We’re in a retail park. Where else would they be? It’s as if they’re lost for words or they’re unable to tell me that they’re ready to go. One of these days I’m going to answer back with a simple “Really? Me too” or “couldn’t you find the underground car park?” I wonder if they’ll just shrug it off or take offence to these remarks. They may even complain so I’ll have to be careful as to who I’ll try it on. One of them tried to make a joke of it once and said, “Is now a good time to tell you that I’m on the bus?”. Unfortunately, it was lost on me as I thought he said “Is now a good time to tell you that ‘I’m the boss?”.

Oakham Citra at the Bartons Arms Birmingham

This Victorian palace of a pub is a delight to visit. Its circular bar showcases a wide range of real ales alongside a variety of otherer drinks. Circular pews outline the pub’s outer wall for those who like to stretch their legs and there’s some tables in the middle for groups. There’s even tables outside for those who lie fresh air; though don’t expect an amazing view. Beyond the bar is a beautiful blue and white ornate staircase which leads upstairs to function and meeting rooms. Just past this is the Thai restaurant with an excellent two-course lunch menu and stained-glass windows. And if you get the opportunity to venture into the cellar it’s well worth a look; its depths are cavernous. The pub atmosphere isn’t great. Expect single pensioners reading the papers and moaning about the good old days. It might be livelier in the evening, but as it’s both a bus and a train journey away I’m usually on my way home by then.

Why doesn't the UK sell things for cooking like they do in America?

I’ve often read recipes and wondered where to get the ingredients from. There’s just some ingredients that you don’t see on a regular supermarket shelf. If you’re in a city then you may be able to google specialist shops, but that’s probably going to add to the cost; especially if you’re just buying something to make a specific dish. A lot of recipes are so complicated that it’s no wonder that people just go out and buy the ready-made version. It’s usually cheaper, quicker and involves less effort. Also, there’s nothing that says that you can’t add your own flavourings or (in most cases) cook it the way you want. But cooking isn’t just about the ingredients. It’s about the utensils too. I very much doubt that you can get a great deal on stainless steel cutlery in the US. And apart from a spork; most of us Brits wouldn’t want to buy the US equivalent because it’s been contaminated with time-travelling robots. Hasta la Vista.

Rushed Away

Imagine leaving your home behind for a new life. You’ve left your friends and family because you’ve been invited to start work in a brave new world. you make new friends and start your own family. You merge into a new culture. Then you’re told that you’re no longer needed. You’re sent back to your old world but you can’t take your new family with you unless you can afford to send them. That’s just not right. People have no obligations to be treated as property. There’s also no need for people to be treated as criminals in this manner. I think it’s completely disgusting that people were herded up in this manner and shipped out. What was the original agreement and why was this deal suddenly overturned? It’s time that people realise that society is about helping others rather than trying to make money off them all the time.

Mommy Shark

When the little ones are tied to a certain dance; you’ve got to take advantage of it by forking out for the latest accessories. It makes them look hip and cool and the envy of their friends. My youngest niece loves any form of movement and she loves to dance. She loves copying other people to the sound of music. Last year we took her to a pantomime and her face just lit up when the stage cast asked the whole audience to stand up and perform the Baby Shark song. So I just had to get her the plushy to go with it. It even sings the song. Of course I’ve got no idea what she actually does with it. I like to think that she curls up in bed with it when she sleeps. Maybe it sits on a shelf and she invites it to imaginary tea parties with other stuffed animals. She could take it to her nursery group and show it off to her friends. Or it could currently be sitting in a puddle in the middle of a field. I’ve got no idea.

Expedition to the depths of the Library

After checking out the views of Birmingham, it was time for the highlight of the tour: the Shakespeare room. This was an oak-panelled room surrounded by shelves of antique editions of his works and a bust of the bard himself. In front of this was my favourite room; an indoor viewpoint of the city with an interactive map showing you fact and figures about what you’re looking at. Luckily, it was very quiet so we could stay as long as we wanted. There’s many sights here that I’ve yet to visit. On our descent, we popped into a photographic exhibition of some old sights of the city. After that, we cut through the cathedral grounds to catch a bus to our lunch spot. We got on all right but got off a stop early; owing partly to roadworks and partly due to me trying to remember where the stop was. At least we had the building in our sight. I didn’t want to miss it.

Worzel Gummidge (BBC 2019)

All too often, there are stories from past generations that aren’t passed on and attempts to bring them back again don’t do them justice; sometimes even dissuading new generations from following them at all.  But there’s nothing stereotypical about this delightful children’s drama. It’s got all the county charm and accents but without any outdated references. There’s plenty to chuckle at, from operations of modern-day technology to completing innocent daily tasks which the rest of us might find hazardous. The supporting cast do an excellent job too, and all too often grown-ups are portrayed as idiots in these adaptions. But it’s not done here. The only strange thing is Farmer Braithwaite’s opening frustration as it’s overdone. You’d think he’d be happy to train amateurs if there’s little work to do. Otherwise, it’s a perfect modern adaption of the classic tale, and I’d like to see more. I’ll have to seek out the books too.

Expedition to the top of the Library

This was my second attempt to take my mother on a tour of one of my favourite buildings in Birmingham, and this time it was actually open. We started in the basement for a quick comfort break and I showed her the children’s section, the amphitheatre and the music library. Then we carried on up the escalator into the stacks. Walls of books were in front of us surrounded by narrow walkways. At the end of this section was a balcony to the first rooftop garden. We enjoyed smelling the heather, lavender and mint, then decided to climb a little higher and boarded the travellator to the next floor. Once again, the glass elevator was broken but Mum had a phobia of those anyway. Instead we walked through the map room and took a less glamourous elevator to the ninth floor. After following a series of narrow passages past service doors and offices we reached the secret garden.

Second Date #nuclearmermaid 8

Lying on the floor in distress, she sensed that one of the creatures was still in the room. Emerging from behind the cover of a large, shiny tube was a biped in brown overalls. As she began to shiver in the cold air, the creature sensed that something was wrong. It disappeared for a moment between a space in the wall then returned with a large white object which he threw over the front of her chest. It felt soft and warm and her shivering had begun to subside. She wrapped each end behind her back then tied them together in a knot underneath her breasts, which strained slightly under the pressure. She smiled at the biped who returned it and beckoned her to follow him through a hole which he had created with a swipe of his arm. As she crawled through, she noticed a small machine with a large sack attached to four small circles at its base. The biped tilted the object and invited her to climb inside the sack.