Day 133 - New Years Eve

And so, in a few hours from me writing this, a new year will break. People of all cultures will wonder what goodness or badness is coming their way and most will resolve to take steps to change their life, set a new goal, cast in mental stone their willingness for it to be a different year from the one that has just passed. And in a day or two, once the alcohol haze has lifted, many would have forgotten what was promised, and life carries on.

And that was going to be the theme of this blurb, seriously reflecting on this time of year and all it means to people I know and of course to myself.

But, if I was sitting reading it from your screen or over your shoulder, even my eyes would roll back never to be found again. Because every columnist in every newspaper or magazine, every blogger, every self help guru will be writing about this time. In Australia and places like that in the East (of where I am now) will have already celebrated the moment, News channels like Sky will go on and on and on with replays of the fireworks on Sydney bridge and the crowds on Bondi beach. In the west, people are just getting out of bed after a heavy Friday nights drinking and partying. They still need to get the day going. In the south, many a fire will be lit by now in expectation of having a braai, the fanta brown will be flowing and tonight A & E will too be overflowing. And here?

Here is another working day for us, albeit a busy one. In this trade there is no such thing as feet up at Christmas and New Year...oh wait my eyes are glazing over too.

No people, tonight, we put lots of money in the till hopefully and if all goes well we'll stumble into bed at about 4am, hopefully drunk. There fitness freaks and gym bunnies I've said it. Yes, tonight we will have licence to abuse our bodies. Tonight we shall morph into super beings, capable of doing the dumbest things to an appreciative audience. Tonight we shall say things that we will apologise for, for a few weeks yet. That's if I can make it to dinner time to be honest. The draw of my bed right now is almost overwhelming, I just need a few hours...

The allure of New Years eve, after 20 or so years in the trade, is definitely less sparkly than what it was. Definitely less enticing and in this trade usually marks the end of the festive busy season. Feet are sore, brains are tired, bags under the eyes are a sorry sight. And tonight, like every other year, there will be at least one idiot who believes that they are cleverer than everyone else. There will be one. For sure.

I always wonder at this time about the people who have been in my life in the past year. Our circumstances maybe different to yours but I suppose as the year turns you have to turn with it and move on from those who obviously don't share the same interest in you as you do in them. Its a shame that distance and circumstance makes some people forget the togetherness that was once there. Its a shame that we get wrapped up in our own little patheticness and own importance that we forget the times that we shared, the people that added to our sum. And I guess I am probably not an exception so therefore won't claim to be. But I miss those times that I can't have again.

And so, time has marched on, 2011 has just about seen its ass, and what a year its been, full of change and new people and 2012 is beckoning. Resolutions anyone? What are you going to do different. And please don't tell me you're going to read a motivational book every week or month. That is so yawn. Please don't tell me that you're gonna start going to church or start going more often. Did your mother not ever tell you that its the way you live your life everyday that's important?

Do something significant. C'mon, jack your job and travel the world. Stop smoking. Give up the drugs. Get back in touch with old friends. Find something that makes you happy. Write a book. Grow some balls.

Or if you're perfect in your own eyes. Become less so.

And that my friends is new years eve. 2012 for me is about being happy and at peace and I hope to write a book or at least make a serious start at one. 2012 is also, for me, the time for me to clear out my baggage of people in my life who I don't want to hear from again, clear out my thoughts, my regrets, my impatience with stupid and selfish people. Yes 2012 is my year to make a difference. For B, N & L. What you do in your 2012 is up to you but whatever it is I wish you the very best.

God speed. Until the next time.

Day 132 - Secret Information

I confess. I know nothing or at least very little about the Protection of Information Bill or Secrecy Act that has got all and sundry into a lather this week. I suppose if I did know anything sensible and accurate about it I wouldn't be able to write about it for fear of being in breach of it. I suppose? But it does smack of the paving of the path to a good old African dictatorship. 

Now Africans (and I consider myself an African before the self riotous out there get carried away)  have collectively proved themselves over and over again to be pretty fucking useless at the best of times but one thing we do know how to do, and we do this quite well (but probably not as well as China and a few Arab sandpits) is to trample on others, their dignity, their rights, their heartbeat. And we're also quite good at guiltily wringing our hands when observing our lot in action and doing nothing about it. 

I am not a liberal - shhh peanut gallery - regardless of the colour of your skin I have a strong belief in right and wrong, a strong belief in learning from mistakes made, a strong belief in leading by example and strong belief in firm and fair. But I fail to understand and find it quite sad that we are scarred by our past so badly that in a country like SA with all its mineral wealth, geographic diversity and pot of cultures we (poetic licence - work with me) have allowed near on 20 years to pass us by since 'democracy' and today we are still talking about the same shit and simmering in the same anger.

 

So the secrecy bill will only serve to remind the underclass (and unless you're privileged enough or royal enough or connected enough to benefit from being in government you are the underclass) to look north to the Arab spring. Because it may be the only option eventually. Because what will happen next is that the constitution will be changed at will to accommodate power trips and obese egos, to sell the land to the invading Chinese and there will be nothing that we can do about it. There will be no consultation because it will be wrapped up in the act somehow. There will be no reporting of it for fear of persecution. Minorities will be persecuted because they have had the audacity to grow their wealth and create infrastructure. Corruption - and its been impressive so far - will become legendary. Service delivery will be non existent. Infrastructure will gradually crumble. The police will be non existent or non effective. Civil disobedience will develop. It might take a year or two or five but the clock has started.

Fanciful? Ask journalists who have covered the demise of other African states, and here are only a few; Zim, Mozambique, Angola, Kenya, Ethiopia, DRC, Sierra Leone.

And yes, bizarrely, SA's people who don't live in the country will still return, they will be swayed by some motivational speaker about SA being the land of milk and honey - oh yes and you certainly do get milked - making the decision to leave a less glamorous life style so that they can braai and feel the sun on their backs. Clever people will make life changing decisions based on their past memories of drinking cold hansas. Ask me. I did it. It took me 10 years, two children and a lost fortune to bring me to my senses. I won't be back.

And quite frankly if even after the passing of this bill you still have your head in the sand hoping it'll get better then you deserve a medal for naivety. Or stupidity.

I leave you with these final words. My view may be different to yours I accept that. You may read this as negative, that is your prerogative. But if you can go then you should. 'n Boer maak 'n plan. You should too.

Until next time.

Day 131 - Been a While

Its been a while. About a month and a bit actually but hey who's counting. Since last sitting here and writing my bit to save the planet (or at least my sanity) the Rugby World Cup has come and is nearly finished, the end of summer has turned into the beginnings of winter, the kids are well and truly ensconced in their schooling, seasonal sport - soccer and netball -  is well underway for them, and we are nearly three months into trading this new venture of ours which means...well, what does it mean?

It means that we are getting settled, it means that we are slowly figuring out the system and the ways of business here in the UK (in fairness its quite similar here to 'ol sunny SA but better enforced and checked up on), it means that we are working out who to deal with and who not to bother with (tricky sometimes in a small village when you risk upsetting people and them not supporting you and their mates not supporting you either), who are nice people and worth spending time with and who are not and of course working out who to connect with and again who not to.  The saving grace here is the fact that we are the current custodians of this village's historical cross roads or meeting place. Everyone that is anyone in this town has spent some time in these walls as has their parents and their parents parents. Three months on now and everyday we are asked about this or that pertaining to this pub. We are regularly informed about a wedding or christening that happened here at some point in the last hundred years or more. I still find it interesting and try, in my own mind, to make comparisons with establishments in SA that have a long history. I would imagine that place like The Queen Vic in Durban or The Fireman's in Cape Town probably have a story or two but probably not of the scale that could be told here. And although this is old - about 500 years - there are other pubs that date back to the 10th or 11th century. How do put that into perspective? I think humility is the order of the day. I think understanding and not over stating one's contribution to the fabric of the village is the important thing to remember. And only time will tell us that we have achieved that. 

Or we can pillage for all its worth and do what everyone else has done, two or three years, move on and leave a mess for someone else to sort out. I know the route we plan to take.

Onto more serious stuff. Rugby. South Africa, now former world champions, lost their crunch decider quarter final against the arch enemy, Australia. I am not an expert but like all other Saffers feel that I am at least qualified to pick a world beating team and of course, in my spare time, play and ref test match rugby. And if all that fails I can and will start a petition that will change nothing and then for a week or two whine and whinge to anyone who will listen about the outcome of the game. I am at the very least better than Bryce Lawrence. And here is my measurement. When the Aussie commentators - who are as biased as all hell all the time!! - on the feed that I watched were obviously and vociferously cringing at the decisions made by the ref, decisions going in Australia's favour, then you know that there might just be something wrong. When Aussie journos slate the outcome of the game because it was a farce then you know that there might just be something wrong. 

So will anything change now regarding the outcome of the game? Of course it won't. Technology that so freely exists of course won't be utilised to make the game better. 'ol Bryce will move onto to ref another game - although probably not in SA 'cos the dutchies will KKK his ass. For the next four years us Saffers will whine that we were robbed (just like NZ has done since 1991) and whoever wins on Sunday will never be the true champions because of that one game. Funny old world.

And onto other stuff. The recession. I don't know if there is a real one to be honest. I don't know anyone that has recently lost their job and will never find work again. But I'm fairly simple when it comes to this stuff. I don't know any one whose salary has been cut to put them below the poverty line. The food prices in the supermarket don't seem to be rising too much over here, petrol came down last week. You can be sure the banks still make billions, as do the supermarket chains. No. I think this whole recession is something we have talked ourselves into or something that the miserable bankers and economists have talked us into. Simplistic view yes. Still a funny old world.

Anyway, thats my lot for today and maybe even this month. I will try and write more regularly because I know that you can't wait to read the next installment. It raining. Wish you were here.

Day 130 - Boy Scout Moment

Well, so much for writing something for 365 consecutive days. At this rate I will only finish this in 2019 and you shall be stuck reading this with me as my hairline recedes and waistline increases even more. I shall by then be waffling on about the state of the bus journey to town, whether or not I should draw my pension in Italian lira - because lets face it the Euro will probably be gone by then as country after country goes into bankruptcy. The European Union will probably have been dissolved by then and as the holder of the green mamba (that is a SA passport in case you were wandering) I will again need a visa to go to the toilet. Ah, so much to look forward to.

Anyway, I digress from the important news of the past few days and news I am sure you are just hanging on to the edge of your seat to hear. Yes, this news will be ground breaking. The Springboks won a game of rugby today. Yes, they did honestly and you can check the news channels if you don't believe me. It did come as a surprise I know but a win is a win and we'll take it. It was obvious, to me anyway, that if Div reduced the average player age to about 24 the pace of the game will pick up like it did in the second half. As a side note it must have been quite interesting this morning in 'ol sunny SA with the churchies...decisions decisions...do we watch the bokke, braai and eat biltong or do we go and pray? Or do we pray for the bokke to win. Hmmm that must have confused the do gooders this morning.

And in other sporting news, equal in importance to the WC, my youngest kicked off his annual campaign to retain his player of the year trophy. First match this morning it was, so off we went, all excited and not dressed very warmly. It was one of those aha moments, football here might be a bit different and a whole lot colder. For us anyway on the sidelines. I think in a month or so we shall be taking along the mobile fire place to stand around - if today was anything to go by anyway. Nevertheless, being this dedicated parent that I am I gave up the opportunity to watch the other match live (in my warm lounge) and rather recorded it to watch as if it was live when we got home. These days its quite tricky not to be kept in touch with every moment of everyone's life so in a military manner we forbade the use of mobile communication devices until such time as we completed watching the end of the Springbok victory. I don't know why we bothered to be honest. What a shite performance. At least the youngest and his team dominated their opposition with a thrilling 3-0 win.

We also this weekend had the pleasure of hometown mates staying with us. There is nothing quite like talking shit over a few tequilas with someone who shares some of your history. I can only imagine what we were talking about because to be honest things are a bit hazy, in the later parts of the evening anyway, and I don't remember most of the detail. But I know we had a good time judging by the size of the bar tab anyway. Being of SA stock we drank our fair share and ate our fair share too. We even lit a fire and had a cracking braai yesterday afternoon. OK there were a few envious looks from passing punters as we sizzled the steak on the fire and drank beer but there are some things that need to happen. And this was one of them. We even had gem squash on the fire. No small feat finding gem squash over here apparently. Good times. And then we drank more tequila. Hmmm too nice!

Someone else I know posted in facebook earlier today the fact that he had been mugged at knife point last night while walking home, probably no more than 300 meters. Here it would be big news. He would probably be knighted for surviving a knife attack as quite a few of them don't survive. There, his fb friends say 'hey sorry bru, hope you OK man' or 'whatsup dude, at least he didn't kill you'. As SAfricans we are so overwhelmed by crime and so inebriated by it that we no longer have much emotion about it. I'm not judging it, I don't live there anymore so I don't have too and before you get all defensive, there is crime here too I know but in most cases it would be unlikely for you to die for your phone. In most cases. 

Someone else I know also quoted stats recently, and they went something like this. The murder rate in SA has come down 6.5%. A real result by anyones standards. But there were still 15000 - yes fifteen THOUSAND - murders last year in SA. Don't quote me on the stats as they may not be absolutely accurate. Maybe it is 14500 or 15500. Its a lot that's the point. But we are immune to the emotion that comes with crime because it is part of our culture. But at least the sun in shining and you can braai. Strange but true.

Talking of fire, tonight I had a bit of a boy scout moment and for the first time lite the fire in the pub, just checking to see if it works you see. People were looking at me as if I was a bit odd but hey, its my fire. So there. It works is the verdict and no doubt we shall be lighting it up quite frequently in the months to come.

And finally, its ten years today since the attacks on the World Trade Center. Where was I when this happened? At Durban International Airport buying a cold drink at the sweet shop downstairs. Above the till they had a TV and they happened to have CNN on...and there it was. Where were you when it happened?

Until tomorrow. Maybe

Day 129 - Jinxed It?

And so it came to pass that at least one of my off spring attended his first day of school today. And in the morning another, the eldest, shall too. In the morning she shall embark on her own on the bus with new people to her new school. It will no doubt be daunting for her but I am sure she will be just fine. She has after all met a number of kids her age to share the journey with so we hope that it will not be too dramatic. 

It will be somewhat quieter in these parts for a number of hours each day from herein onwards. We are now getting to normality, the summer holidays are over, the Euro travelling populace are back at work, tanned and already saving for their next journey to foreign shores. The honeymoon period of the pub has subsided and it is up to us to now make it happen. And we shall. But rather than climb into every gimmick there is available and there are many we are more inclined to approach this gently and with more depth and foundation. Just how much depth and foundation will depend of course on the state of the bank balance but we are confident that slow steps now will stand us in good stead later. Or, and this could be the case, we may just be naive and whacking the gimmicks and gadgets now is the way to go. Whatever my opinion is or yours for that matter, time alone will be our judge and jury. And hopefully by the time this gets to Day 364 we will be closer the knowing the answer. I shall be exhausted and probably stressed but at least we will a bit closer to knowing if this theory works.

On the personal side, I continue to to be amazed by some of the people that I meet. With the hours that we are currently doing it would be safe to say that the holiday goggles are off but yet still every day we are touched by the kindness and generosity of people that live in these parts. Yes, before you think I've gone all soft and tree huggy like I know that for some who have lived here for a lifetime we are one in many couples who have kept these historical walls in good shape and there will be many more after us I suspect but nevertheless we have had easy and friendly conversations with a variety of people who have just accepted us. There has been no qualm about our backgrounds, the fact that we are foreigners. There has been no issue that as Springbok supporters in front of the imminent World Cup we shall be up against England at some point, and hopefully beat them too. And on Saturday there shall no doubt be many comments as we wander around the town in our Springbok jerseys readying ourselves for a Welsh onslaught - which we shall brush away. And hopefully later on Saturday when we light the fire and tan some meat there shall be only congratulatory comments on our fine victory.

There I have jinxed it now. I have mentioned fire so it is sure to rain anyway, regardless of whether I wash my car or not. I have positively alluded to the current Springbok side actually winning a game on foreign soil - which as we know could  now go either way and there is a strong chance it will now go against us. I am truly sorry so I shall have to wear my lucky shirt and i expect you to wear yours. Mine is green.

I'm rambling now. Tuesday now. AFD shift tomorrow that start at 6am so I am signing off. I hope that you have a fab time wherever you are and don't forget to put your national pride aside and support the Springboks in their quest for a third World Cup victory. There is only one.

Until tomorrow.

Day 128 - Clever Stuff

Tomorrow and Wednesday heralds, finally the end of the summer holiday for the off spring. They will, hopefully spend the next few months being bombarded with clever stuff that makes them both intelligent and occupied. They will hopefully be able to immerse themselves into subjects that challenge their mental ability and positively engage their peers in worthy debate on the state of any given subject.

What will more than likely happen instead is that I suspect that my pre teen who thinks she eighteen will spend more time trying to be cool at her new school that actually bother with anything clever. Her pre requisite and sparkling new uniform will fortunately negate her willingness and need for individuality and her morning bus journey will drag her out of her bed at a suitable hour, which is some hours before lunch. It will be a shock to her system to experience eating breakfast actually in the morning, but a lesson well learnt for her future years. For the even younger one, he will perhaps not engage anyone in worthy debate, in fact he probably won't give a shit either way as he blasts himself around the playground being a boy. For him there is unlikely to be worthy debate as he argues his corner, I can warn others and take this from my experience he has the ability to be quite convincing. So convincing in fact that I have had to install a daily password system for my bar staff. The rule has been, no Cheddars, crisps or sweets if he doesn't know the password. It worked at first...

Today though marks the end of a long and busy weekend. Staff drinks after work always sounds like a good idea at the time. Its only when you get into the detail of who wants what to drink, and who is rostered to work the next day do you realise just complex it can all be. Factor in age and some immaturity and it proves to be challenging to keep all happy. And as predicted a few days ago, the party went exactly as I said it would be. Slow and subdued to start followed by raucous and noisy till four in the morning. The very young of the youngest were the first to leave, not exactly walking upright it has to be said. The oldest of us, the more experienced of us and those of us who have little idea of when to stop were of course the last to leave. Begrudgingly at the time I trudged upstairs, the laughter of the night still echoing in my head and within one second of resting my head on my pillow was I asleep. Blissfully unaware that the cleaner fairy was going to take all the hassle away of tidying up the mess that we made. 

And then Sunday happened. What had been a good idea turned Sunday into a tragedy. I could swear that this past Sunday was longer that it normally is. The last few hours of the day took forever to pass. The throbbing head was temporarily stilled by a few tablets and a glass of water but none of the old tricks worked. Not even greasy bacon and eggs. And then we went o a braai / bbq in the afternoon. Fantastic it was, especially once a few glasses of red were downed. We never learn. 

Until tomorrow.

Day 127 - Drink in Hand

Beer, beer everywhere but not a drop to drink. Or was that supposed to be water? I can never remember. I suppose unlike salt water, this beer is very palatable but not wanting to beer (sorry Freudian slip I think) confused with someone else who does similar things to me I try - and this will news to those who know me but I have grown up eventually I think, well OK maybe not actually grown up completely yet but on track to be mature, more sensible and not to overdo it too often anymore.

Until this coming Saturday anyway. This Saturday marks the first of what I suppose will be a few bonding sessions with the staff of this place. I say the first of few because hedging my bets here I am bound to have changes of people in the time to come so will need to sacrifice more generously as it happens to properly welcome them to the team. I cannot be accused of lacking in generosity. 

Having hosted events like this before, like I have said previously any excuse will do, this is what will probably happen. It'll start off relatively quietly, a bit subdued even, and once the lubricant which occurs naturally in alcohol starts to take effect, the volume will start to increase, the youngest of the team will try and drink the most in the shortest possible amount of time and will no doubt be the first to throw their name away, for some never to be found again. The flash of cameras will remind everyone of the need to put everything on fb, every comment, every joke, every revelation and for some this will mean embarrassing moments and explanations in the morning when their mothers open their status updates. As the evening wears on, so the cleverer ones will try and both understand and solve the worlds problems. Complex rationality and reasoning that defies all logic will prevail and at some point all present, especially the young ones, will profess to have the answer to the crisis in Libya or Afghanistan, some will be so emotional about these two situations that they will commit themselves to joining the armed forces at first light. Of course they never will, until the next session anyway.

And the older of us will sit back, drink in hand and wise to the path of these parties and watch the future memories unfold. We shall be reminded of our age repeatedly by the younger element amongst us but come the end of the night we shall most likely be still standing and yes, still in charge of the camera so that these drunken moments are forever captured and of course shared with all our hundreds of friends and of course friends of friends. And in the morning, the elders amongst us will still get up to do a days work. We shall no doubt be hungover and the day will be a battle, especially to keep the porcelain smile gleaming. The youngsters will oversleep and may not even arrive at work, citing tiredness of course. We shall all promise never to do it again, until next time of course.

And that is how Saturday night will probably go. There are of course other scenarios which involve copious amounts of gold Tequila and maybe even a bit of jagermeister but that would just be too awful to contemplate. Oh and one final point, when it gets to stupid o clock and I'm the one standing on the table (looking for my name in the rafters) shouting 'big or small fuck em all' you know it might be time to call it a night. Forewarned is forearmed. Or something like that.

Until tomorrow.

Day 126 - Fairytale in Libya

And this reported in the papers today. Not the News of the World because as you know they're gone, not the Sun or the Star, not even the Mail or the Express, but in the erstwhile Times itself. If you even have an inkling of current affairs you cannot tell me that what I am about to comment on isn't at best ludicrous.

But let me start near the beginning. Years ago over Lockerbie, which I think is in Scotland somewhere, an American passenger plane was blown out of the air, killing all on board. You've probably heard of this. A Libyan bloke was arrested and charged with this heinous crime and subsequently jailed for as many years as there are fleas on a camel. Only the bloke got old and started suffering from ill health and so the former government's tree hugger department stepped in and released him on the grounds that he was terminally ill and should be allowed to die in peace - or should that be pieces, like the Lockerbie victims? Only, it seems he may not have been quite so ill as he was making out to be at the time and but nevertheless he was given a hero's welcome home by the All Glorious Master and King of the Africa's. Needless to say, the Scots and most of the civilised world weren't too happy about all this and there was a bit of an uproar and whispers of a good old oil deal on the table (surprise surprise).

And then the revolution started. The good guys (depending on your outlook on life of course) started chasing the All Glorious Master and don't forget the Commander of all Gods Battalions and King of all Africa's dude until he couldn't support the bomber no more. The good guys, ever grateful for the help given to them by the generous NATO forces and of course the tax payers of the Europe, publicly told the world to piss off and stated that NO they would not hand the bomber dude back to the west to be jailed again for his crime. After all he was a Libyan citizen and worthy of their protection - where the fuck were they when the All Glorious Master was killing the other citizens for 42 years! 

And then (and this is the fairytale moment so pay attention) Disney stepped in with its story writers (they didn't really in case you're wondering and in case they want to sue me) and made up the penultimate chapter of this mans life. The family of this bomber dude, seeing that he is deteriorating without medical support because all the pills and medical stuff have been stolen by looters (Brixton, Clapham, Enfield, Walthamstow you too can pay attention, oh wait sorry, most of you probably come from Libya anyway) have pleaded to the Scottish government to please send Scottish doctors over to Libya to help him get better again. Yes. If I was you I would read that last bit again. The Libyans, cocking two fingers to the very people that have just freed them are now asking for more help to heal a bomber that caused untold grief on the Scottish nation all those years ago. Do they have no shame?

The world is truly a bizarre place. And bizarrest of all? I bet the tree hugger department in the Scottish government send Scottish doctors to help. Human rights after all they'll argue. My opinion in short. Let him die.

Until tomorrow.

Day 125 - The Arab Spring

This has been a long day. Yesterday I moaned about what has been a bit of a damp squib of a bank holiday weekend but today has made up for it. Today we have been to the edge and back in the kitchen and I think if my significant other half had had her way many would have felt the edge of her kitchen knives or that of the lip of the frying pan. There are times in the kitchen when the sound of the printing from the kitchen printer can reduce grown men and women to almost tears. Today was one of those days.

Innocuous it started, a quick visit to the biggest junk stuff sale I have ever seen and then back to the pub for an hour or so of work we thought. After all the whole weekend's performance had suggested that today, Monday wasn't going to happen. Coupled with the rain, people being away, it was a definite non starter. It was sure to determine the trading patterns of future bank holidays. It would have been feet up time. The couch was looking mighty attractive, the recliner had my name written all over it. Instead, the fat fryer spat at me, the oven cursed and cussed and the bloody kitchen printer had the audacity to keep us on the move for most of the day. Its a tough life but I grudgingly suppose one that I am grateful for.

Other stuff that got me thinking today. Today's papers report on the bonanza that the weapons companies have received during the 'Arab spring'. The tree huggers are dismayed that British companies are cashing in by supplying arms and ammunition's to the Arab states. Let me try and understand this. Would the tree huggers be happier if there wasn't an arms industry in the UK, if there wasn't an industry and the associate feeder industry that generates billions for the economy and employs probably hundreds of thousands of people directly and indirectly. There continues to be it seems the misunderstanding that guns kill people, they don't; people kill people with guns. If they didn't have a gun they would probably still kill. And if they didn't get the guns from UK firms they would only get them from somewhere else. And in other countries they would benefit from the contribution to the economy and of course the employment. But no, the papers today go on a bit about the how the government should clamp down, how they should stop issuing export licences. Perhaps, and this is absolutely politically incorrect, the government should increase the number of exports, the long term benefit would be that they could have a proper go at killing each other, the price of oil could be probably be negotiated down as they needed more money for more guns anyway. The government could stop interfering and playing global policeman and save billions by not bombing everything from the jets, just let them get on with it. Why is it the West's problem? (Obviously we would need to keep an eye on them 'cos we don't want them getting hold of a you know what that wasn't found after all the last time the UK was led to war in Iraq by 'ol TB. Nudge nudge wink wink. That'll keep the oil flowing 'ey Gordon.)

No, weapons are here to stay and if they don't sell them somebody else will. And here's a conspiracy theory to get you thinking. I think the manufacturers of the more popular weapons like the AK and the M16 pay for the production of toys that mimic the real thing. Think about it. Get the kids feeling the weapon now, the shape, the butt in the shoulder, the signature feel and look albeit plastic, and later they will always remember the building blocks. And if the visit today to the car boot sale aka the biggest junk stuff sale was anything to go by, there will be many kids that went home with a plastic AK47 or look a like full size plastic BB hand gun. Makes you think.

Until tomorrow.

Day 124 - Ice Ice Baby

I guess part of the thing about moving to a new town or place is getting to to the know the routine, the habits and the people. And this place is no different. Like in any town it has its ways and days when everything is different but everything is the same. Take this weekend for example, here it is called a bank holiday, you might know it as a public holiday wherever you are but its the same thing and like in many other places people manipulate their work time and leave days to take advantage of the longer than normal weekend. Fairly straight forward. 

You would think. There must have been a time and I vaguely remember those days when you were guaranteed booming trade over the bank holiday weekend in this trade. From Friday to Monday every decent pub would have been filled to capacity, the sale of beer would have been brisk. And this is what we sort of expected and pretty much what we have been told in these parts. Only it hasn't been like that. It has been a bit busier but not half of our expectation. And not only in this pub I assure you (if it was only here I would have been worried). Having been through the mill before we were sure to ask a range of people of their views and predictions for the weekend, different ages, different lines of work and the general consensus was that it was going to happen. It hasn't. I hope that when I write this tomorrow night I will be able to report just how massively busy its been.. Hmmm, not sure?

For those of you reading this who are fb friends of mine you may have seen my upload of a photo I took today. Early this morning it gave me a chuckle anyway.

I'm sure the experts in the field will point me in the right direct about the multitudes of ice types available but really as a layman, if ice wasn't frozen would it be labelled as unfrozen water? And anyway are there other types? 

That's my lot, its late. Have a fab week ahead.

Until tomorrow.

Day 123 - Onion Award

I am really trying to avoid negativity in these musings ...but...sometimes things happen that really get me going and that really need telling purely for their unreasonableness and after that, well, the day is any ones guess. 

A few days ago I ordered some stuff online from IKEA. Now I am not a fan of IKEA, yes some of their stuff is good but most of it doesn't appeal to me and no I don't like food that I can't pronounce the name of. What we ordered is functional, probably temporary for a year or two and will most likely fit with what we have already. IKEA has been around for a while and is lauded for its clever design and good service. But not this time. Online they were happy to take my money, which they have, they were happy to email me an anticipated delivery day of about 1 week - 2 Sep - , which was fine and then today the phone rings and its some bloke from their courier company telling me actually it can't get here until the 16th Sep. I think I am relatively patient so I patiently replied to dontreply@ikea.co.uk, then found their website to see if I could get another e mail address and then I phoned them.

Once again, as patient as I am I listened for some time to their wonderful music whilst on hold and then eventually I get to speak to Brad, I try and put the saga into perspective, telling him that it took 6 weeks to get our personal effects from SA to our door in the UK in a container on a ship which was at risk of pirate attack and storm swells the size of the Empire States building, surely it doesn't take 3 weeks from Petersborough to get stuff to me? Am I being unreasonable I beg? 

He tells me, in such a nice patient voice because I'm now ranting a bit, that I should phone the courier company and find out why they can't deliver earlier. When I point out that I didn't buy the bloody stuff from the courier company I bought it from IKEA and quite frankly its their problem to sort it out he agrees and promises to call me back.. Which he does, only to tell me they can do nothing about it and if I want to cancel the deal I can. So I do. And now we wait for 5 days to get my money back.

This service from IKEA is shit. 

And so to calm down we go to lunch. The kids need pizza so we go to Franki & Bennys. Food was OK when it eventually got to the table. I am fussy about service I know that but I have low expectations coming from SA, and here the service was terrible. I'm sorry I can't word it any better. The manager, at least I think he was the manager was clueless. This is what I want. Acknowledge me when I arrive at your restaurant, in other words, say hello or at the very least make eye contact with me, and point me at a vacant table, of which there were a few, if your rule is wait to be seated. That's all, I can wait a minute or two for a menu, I can see you're busy, I know your pain but don't walk past me repeatedly while I'm standing at your front door and ignore me. I'm not there for my health. The tone was set. I wasn't going to see much of the good stuff after.

Right. That's my whining for the day. The 'You're Shit' Onion today is jointly awarded to IKEA and Franki & Benny. You will see little of me from now on.

Until tomorrow.

Day 122 - Temptation

Today marks four weeks since we opened our doors to the public. Four very quick weeks gone in a flash. And there has been no more fitting ways to celebrate this first milestone with a busy busy pub! Phew! busy and now some very sore feet, but I'm not complaining.

To compound the busyness of the day, I was egged on to do another trip to the bloody wholesaler. Autopilot, Mandy, engaged, even she said 'what! Booker again!' Again I'm not complaining, the service was good, the prices were right and even the in house butcher knows exactly what I want. But the trip today did expose Mandy's weakness, her so far perfect directions managed to get me lost - not to Booker obviously because I drive that route while still sleeping, but to another place today which according to their website was only a stones throw from Stoke. Well, if you think 15 km other side of Stoke is a stones throw then winning the discus or shot put next year will be a doddle. And Mandy, you need to pick your game up. Your enticing voice may yet lead me into temptation but only as long as your directions are right. You have been warned.

All this, while our international movers arrived with the way to big to get into our car park lorry so almost left and would have had I not seen them outside and ran to intercept them. Much to their happiness I insisted on them carrying all 135 cartons and packages in the front door of the pub and up 2 flights of stairs. When we packed up this stuff, way back in SA, 12 happy Pickford people turned up to pack and that took the best part of all day. Today, to carry all this stuff upstairs and unpack it all onto a flat surface as per the contract they sent...wait for it...waaaaaait......2 people! There. Yes 2 people, one about 65 years old, the other in his late twenties. And carry they did and sweat they did and sort of half unpacked they did too. Pleasant enough guys but overwhelmed with what they had to do in the time they had to do it in.

So, this means that we are left to unpack boxes and boxes of stuff that we have paid for them to unpack. Is it even worth the fight? Hopefully some big wig from Pickford's will one day read this and do something about it...somehow I doubt it. But let it be a lesson for those wanting to move home or country. Tomorrow we shall attempt again to have a go at the mountains of boxes still piled on top of each other. Tomorrow we shall also have a go at trying to find a home for the billions of pieces of crockery that we have. I had no idea that we had so much stuff. There is piles of it but there has also been a laugh or two today...one notable moment was me opening a padded and wrapped in export flutes cardboard item that turned out to be a kids plastic hula hoop. Nothing else in the packaging. Just a hula hoop. Once again I have contributed to my size massive carbon footprint. I shall shortly be receiving a club card from the illegal deforesters of the Amazon at the rate that I am going. Whole swathes of deforested rain forest are being named after me. They shall drink cheap tequila in my honour. And I try to be normal. Really I do. Is it really that difficult to be normal? I suppose you wouldn't know because if you can persevere with reading this drivel everyday you cannot possibly be normal.

Anyway, that's my lot for the day. Have a fab Friday - for us its gonna be a busy one as its the final bank holiday of the year. Bring it on!

Until tomorrow.

Day 121 - Shopping Lists

Today, through no fault of my own I was forced, not coerced, no, forced to partake in what is probably my worst activity I could imagine. There are I think a number of reasons why I detest shopping generally and clothes shopping specifically. I can't decide whether its the spending of the money that gets to me most - it may well be this, the endless choice of style that I don't really give a shit about, me being more interested in what I like and as you know I am not really known for my keen and up to date fashion sense.

Or could it be that my senses are so overwhelmed with the desire to impulse purchase that writing a list of what to buy just wouldn't work. Writing a list is my all time classic excuse to get out of prolonged spells shopping. My stock answer is always, 'if its not on the list it doesn't get bought'. This instant bad mood setter for my significantly other half - and there has been many a fight over this logical reason for having a list in the first place - is a sure winner for me as she tends to storm off to do the shopping when the list is mentioned. You should try it. But take it from me, the list excuse works for quite a while and it works pretty well too but eventually your other half expects you to be able to read her mind. And woe betide you if you can't. I mean really what is wrong with you. Don't you love me anymore?

But then there are guys who actually enjoy shopping and their idea of a pleasant afternoon, when other perhaps more normal guys are watching rugby and drinking beer,  is window shopping the latest style and fashion or even worse, grocery shopping. Oh my God, were you never taught gender segregation by your parents. Did they never force this shopping thing down your throat as a kid enough times so that you were forever scarred by the mere thought of it.

And to only cap off my days activity I did this with whiners attached - they had to be as their were bits of the school uniform that still had to be bought and in fairness as the seasons are starting to change they needed localised clothing. I don't think they understand just what is coming their way in terms of weather. The oldest thinks that a summer long sleeve sweater will do her for the winter too. It won't. No, this first winter will leave her with chipped teeth and cold blood. But she will learn that warmth beats looking cool any day of the winter week. The naivety of youth. The youngest is still young enough to still not give a shit either way, and of course he is a bloke so double whammy if its in his cupboard he'll wear it, if not, oh well this T shirt will do, much to his mothers maternal anxiety.

So off it was to Primark, if you're in the UK you might know this place, OK its not exactly Saville Row but hey its damn cheap and reasonable quality, and the place you can shop for kids that will need a new wardrobe next week at the rate they are growing. For Saffers, it a bit like an upmarket version of Mr Price, seems to be better quality than the Chinese rubbish they put on their shelves (although the stuff probably does come from China anyway) and its not as garish I suppose. But then the market is different here also. And my eleven going on eighteen year old had found her piece of heaven. Her prayers had been answered. She had in one stroke arrived. And for two tiresome hours every piece of clothing in this massive store was tried on, accepted or rejected. Being who I am I had completed my shopping in the first fifteen minutes so alone I stood, occasionally interrupted by the over excited breathless one who had found her next fashion statement. Oh joy it was spending next years salary. Shopping. Does anyone actually enjoy it?

In tomorrows installment of this riveting account of a year in my life I shall enthrall you with my observations of Pickfords arriving with our stuff from SA. It should be a busy day indeed!

Until tomorrow...

Day 121 - Pub Quiz

Hands up, who works hands on in the  in the catering / hospitality industry or sector? I would seriously love to hear from you because I have some questions that need answering, questions that I have stoked my brain (yes I have one) to produce answers for but sadly they have alluded me after all these years. I have been privy to these questions over the years, posed in different methods it has to be said by different people and in different accents, but usually the all ask the same things.

This is a bit like a quiz, if you can tell me the answer that I think best answers the questions you shall win an all inclusive, and exclusive, write up of just how great you are which mentions your name, your occupation, your date of birth, your address and just how clever I think you are. Some of the questions will be tricky, some will surely test your application of logic, some will test you general knowledge and others will challenge your mental agility. These are all questions, and some are statements that defy logic, that I have heard repeatedly, both here and in SA. And they are (please note that this is not exhaustive list) as follows:

1. Customer to me, the DJ, 'we want to leave just as soon as you've played my favourite song'...hmmm should I play it now or in 5 hours time?
2. If you play this song everyone will dance...again to me in mid set with a full dance floor.
3. Um I don't know the name of the song, can I sing it you?
4. Can you play something with a beat?
5. On changing the keg...'oh no can't have the dregs, will you change the pint?'....again hmmm this a test of stupidity (there are no dregs in a pasteurised keg) vs customer service isn't it?
6. In the old days when all pubs had to close at 11pm...'what time do you close?'
7. Again in the old days, stranger comes in ' can we get a lock in tonight' eh, no!
8. And again...the pub with its curtains shut after hours but the lights are still on... a bit obvious to any passing plod you would think.
9. 'Can I have mine out of that pump?' when you know it all comes out of the same barrel.
10. Rhetorical question from me to kitchen staff in SA 'how did it break?'
11. Can I run a tab, I'll pay it next week? (one of my favourites)
12. Currently...what you need to do here is stay open til about 4am, that way you'll clean up round here....
13. Currently...can we smoke in here?
14. No ive hjadnt haj nuff...by too much to drink customer.
15. We're not coming back because your prices are too low (yes people, a real comment on opening night)
16. 'Do you mind if I go and have a look at the flat upstairs...I used to live there you know in 19whatever.' eh NO!
17. 'Can I park my car all day everyday in your car park for free?'
18. Will you sponsor us but we can't promise to support you because we usually go to another pub.
19. In the nightclubs...'I know Neale, can I get in for free'
20. Again in the clubs when asking for ID...'I promise I am 18 honest, what! I can't come in, no I don't have any ID on me'.
21. He started it...
22. From a customers mouth in the restaurant, 'can you bring the starters first?'
23. And my all time favourite...my very best...'do you take cash?'

Ah yes, a sample only but one that will surely keep you entertained for hours...

Until tomorrow.

Day 120 - Blur

I can't believe that another week has been consigned to the history books. Right now it seems that each week blurs into one another, relentlessly and it seems like only yesterday that we were opening this boozer, we were running around like headless chickens putting the final touches in, the bar was manic on the first night and here we are now, in our fourth week already.. Click of the fingers, just like that!

We are also two and a bit weeks from the kids going back to school, and that time it seems is dragging. They are desperate (or more like it we are desperate I am not sure) to get some rhythm in their lives although probably don't know it now or ever will. We promise that next year will be different and more organised. I hope so anyway and would expect it then as we will be a year in and way more knowledgeable about local life. Already we are catching on but working all the time at the moment does pose the danger of causing us not to see the wood from the trees. We have promised ourselves when making this move that we will take time to smell the roses and we shall once we we feel we have settled. We are inclined to be a bit impatient with with people around us on our team but I suppose they are also learning our way and some have a bit of potential that still needs to be explored. As you know though, I am very tired of babysitting adults so I'm afraid its very much a case of FIFO. You know what that means, right?

We are also in the throes of setting up a mini conference room in the pub, you see we have this space that is big enough to do it in so we have had it carpeted and painted and now we are looking for furniture. And there is a lot of choice out there...if anyone has any bright ideas about the best place to get stuff from please, I would like to hear from you.

More pics, taken tonight...

Until tomorrow

Day 119 - Bar Stool Tackle

So the we hope they are still mighty Springboks actually won a game. One from four stands our performance in the Tri Nations this year, a month before the World Cup is a bit worrying but of course every South African knows that this is all just part of the strategy, part of the smokescreen to confuse opponents who like to strut their stuff. We are sure that Div has access to the best knowledge of the game possible from all the armchair pundits watching and charting his progress. We also know that he is the best possible man for the job and was appointed absolutely on merit. I am a bit disappointed that 'ol Div didn't take me up on my offer to help out, but then maybe he did, as you know mobile phone signal around these parts is at best sketchy. Like ballerinas they shall dance next month we hope. No. We prey.

In today's papers here the Boks are lauded (that would be my sarcasm rearing its ugly head) for beating a half strength NZ team, at home and all. Also in today's paper it is reported that one of the preparations and safeguards for the 2011WC in NZ is that a sample of every meal eaten by every team, every official shall be frozen and kept for 96 hours just in case. Just in case the food is poisoned like the losing NZ team claimed in 1995 (I wonder what their excuse was in 1999, 2003 & 2007?) , or maybe just in case they asked for medium rare steak and it came medium. In another article, plans to herd about 2000 sheep down the main street of a city in New Zealand have been cancelled due to concerns that the women of the city would feel insecure - OK I made that up - no seriously because it was felt that it would be embarrassing for the country's image and the last time they did this - yes they have done it before which is a bit odd - rogue sheep jumped a few fences and gates along the route, and some were found later propping up the bar ordering Lamb Lager. Scary thought how domesticated these sheep have become. Won't be long and some lonely people will find them attractive.

In local rugby, the Eccleshall RUFC 1st team captain was tackled off his bar stool last night by none other than one of my bar ladies, who herself plays rugby and prior to injury was invited for trial for the England Rugby team. In fairness he did challenge her do it, and so she obliged. Much laughter by all and a bit of a bruised ego was all the damage so its not a bad thing. Hopefully he'll be back, perhaps a little quieter next time though.

The other memorable thing last night, for me anyway, was the visit to the pub by two South Africans, one of whom has lived here in the village for 10 odd years and another for about seven. They are both dentists, one is a WP supporter and unfortunately the other is a Bulls supporter (I know I know, should never have let him in) and both sat speaking Afrikaans, which was a bit surreal here in the middle of the English countryside. Their Afrikaans accents were that strong that even I had to listen carefully to make out what they were saying. Obviously the subject of would you go back came up, for one of them definitely not, says he feels like an outsider when he is there, for the other he'll be going back for good this year, to Hermanus. Mmmmm. Don't know if that is such a good idea. But hey, if he's like me he won't listen to anybody anyway.

Anyway, that's my lot for today. Wishing you, wherever you are, a fab Sunday, or Monday if you're on the other side of the world.

Until tomorrow.

Day 118 - Quite Emotional

Dear Mr Bloggs

Thank you for continuing and avid interest in working for this company.

Although we are quite emotional about it and of course very sad to hear your heart wrenching tale of woe with your current employers we are unable, unfortunately to reduce the hours of our existing members of staff, who have been with us from the beginning and have been quite loyal and hard working in some trying times and to be honest I quite like most of them, to accommodate you.

I am sure that you are aptly qualified to do the job, after all you have been in your existing position for a considerable time, in which you are interested in but nevertheless we still don't have a position for you so please stop sending me your e mail in every conceivable format known to modern man.

We hope that you will understand our position, because we have told you of it on a number of occasions and it should have got through by now, and cease to slander our good name to all who will listen. This current tactic of yours has limited advantage in a small town because, like in other small towns, people like to share information - some would say overshare - and we have subsequently learnt of your should be private view of your employment application with us. That you have chosen to work for a pittance for the time you have is surely not my fault or problem I hasten to add.

Once again, I thank you for your interest but please, stay where you are, you are better off there and we are better off here without you it seems.

Yours in mutual understanding.

Hmmm. Should I send this?

Until tomorrow.

Day 117 - Whine Whine Wine!

School holidays. Do young people really need so much time off? As a kid I don't remember having what seems like months off at a time and definitely I don't remember being so bloody needy. My parents thought I was perfect, a view I'm sure they keep today...or has that changed? I can never remember. Seriously, why is it necessary for them to be able to laze around, watch TV and generally annoy older people for weeks on end. Imagine if they only had 4 weeks off a year, imagine the benefits. Four weeks could be split over the year to take in Christmas (only really a few days), a bit over Easter and a bit over the summer. As a family you could still go on summer holidays but when you got back they would just go straight to school. It couldn't actually be simpler.

Parents, also with four weeks leave a year, could spend all their precious off time with their off spring under close supervision. There would be no expensive holiday clubs to send them too because why would they need it? The bonding between parent and child during this together under duress time would be immeasurable. Kids could learn more stuff and learn it a lot quicker which means they would graduate early - say at about 12 - and go off to university. They would be highly educated and know everything by thirteen years of age. Oh wait, hang on; they already know everything by that age. 

They could be married off and out from under your roof and from in your wallet or purse by the time they are eighteen. They would immediately join the working world and contribute via taxes to their national economy. They could make responsible decisions like what to wear, who to be friends with, how to wear their hair, what looks cool and what doesn't and whether or not they should spend all day in front of the TV or only half the day.

On the upside, and what this means to you the old generation struggling parent is that you could now afford to retire earlier, say 50, and everyone would be a whole lot happier and probably healthier. I think this should be proposed to the relevant authorities. I'm sure that both sides of the political spectrum would embrace this idea and both would probably claim the glory in what is bound to be a successful lifestyle (probably a paradigm shift!) change for billions around the world.

The current system of only finishing school at eighteen doesn't reflect this changing world. That we as hard done by parents have to put up with whiny kids for months of annual holiday is I am sure an affront to our human rights and I am frankly surprised that the do gooders and tree huggers haven't picked up on this. We should consider going on strike, maybe even rioting (I need to be careful about using this word 'cos its a bit of a sensitive word at the moment and I don't want to be accused of incitement). We could picket the schools to keep our kids from just after breakfast to just before dinner, which is now served just before midnight. We could picket them to include strenuous exercise so that when they did come home late at night they fell into their beds in the yard and slept, even in the snow.

Perhaps then we would be appreciated a bit more. Perhaps our kids would be less whiny. Perhaps they would help around the house in exchange for sleeping inside. Perhaps pigs would fly.

Only three more weeks of holidays to go before we get one. T minus 21. 

Until tomorrow.

The author of this blog accepts no responsibility for his frame of mind and for his words written in haste and in jest. If his amazing and incredible sense of humour offends your sensibilities, please don't read any more of his clever prose.

Day 116 - Changing World

It seems that in this land of ale & honey ( and free flatscreens for hoodies?) not quite everything is as simple as one would think it is. Today, money in hand, off I went to order T shirts because try as I like to order on the net with the 'printed and dispatched in 24 hours' people I couldn't actually get them in 24 hrs. Actually 7 - 10 days was the best I could get.

So here I am, money in hand in the print whatever you like on your shirt shop wanting to order 30 T shirts. Oh no, its as funky as you want it to be because you have to do the artwork to and then send it to them and then wait for them to see if they can do it in the timescale and then see if they have the shirts in stock and then wait for them to send me a price. And am I VAT registered? OK then, lets put the advertised and marked price up by 20%.

I think I missed something here. Or is it me just being new to the system? It could be. But hey, no one said it would be simple and change is a good thing right. Right?

Still no rain here and quite warm still. Won't be long before the Spanish and Portuguese flock to Brighton and Bournemouth for the summer holidays, you read it here first. The Algarve and the Coste del Dole will be so last season, mock Tudor summer villas will dot the cliffs of Dover, the the New Forest will be deforested to make way for an expensive housing estate and golf course for the rich and famous. More British pubs will be turned into tapas bars selling Super Bock and San Miguel. Curry houses will make way for flamenco dancing bars and bull fights. This will be the new Britain, it shall be the tropical paradise of the new world. Society here will be fixed in a stroke of the MP's pen, respect and honour will be a criminal offence. Only poor people will go abroad for the hols, the rich preferring to Brighton to Barcelona. AC Portsmouth will dominate European football for a decade or more, and Scotland will win the rugby world cup, back to back.

In other parts of the world, snow skiing holidays are now long haul flights from Europe and the America's, Africa is at the cutting edge of technology (yeah right!), New Zealand has disappeared beneath the waves and Australia has floated into their waters and been annexed by India. The first black (well sort of)  president of the US has declared himself President and majestic King for life and his youngest daughter has been appointed to the new position of Prime Minister. Its a changing world out there. Right?

Especially while trying to figure out the system. I went and bought a simple £19.99 mortice lock today. Before it became a changing world replacing one mortice lock with another was a fairly simple process. Oh no not these days. There is now a variety akin to the number of hairs on your head. And one is not the same as another. And if you are useless as me at DIY and don't know the difference between a chisel and a chock then you stand no chance. And so, my £19.99 mortice lock now sits forlornly in the cupboard waiting to be used, perhaps waiting for the day I find it within myself to build a new door way that requires a lock. And when that day comes there will be a whole lot of more changes. Oh joy.

That's it for today. Until tomorrow!

Day 115 - Digital Motorway

I met a bloke yesterday at my youngster's soccer practice who is a serving police officer attached to the intelligence unit in Brum. He was looking a tad dishevelled having worked extreme hours the past week or so. Obviously our conversation turned to the riots that have recently taken place and it was interesting to hear from his side just what the plod have been doing to catch the little scrotes who perpetrated this disgust.

He says, these thieving bastards have left a digital signature as wide as a motorway and have made it unbelievably easy, through their use of the mobile phones and e mails to track them down for prosecution. They also are not particularly clever, he tells me, as the rioters were rioting and looting in the neighbourhoods in which they live. It was not like they were from London rioting in Birmingham, no, they were looting on their own high streets which meant they were recognised by the vast majority who disagreed with their behaviour and subsequently shopped to the cops.

I also received this on e mail today, you will see that it quite well written but also quite childish and quite smug, and I think wallowing in others misery and introspection when there is a mountain to climb in your own getting there quick third world country is a little arrogant to say the least. Unfortunately the author is unknown (is he / she anonymous in case they still want to come over here at some point?). You decide...

"My congratulations to Pakistan, India, West Indies, Ghana, Jamaica and other third world countries for successfully colonising the United Kingdom. Over many years they have under great secrecy been infiltrating British society under the guise of legal immigrants, political asylum seekers and generally unhappy citizens of their home country. Upon arrival they immediately squatted in the nearest abandoned building and followed the British Way by refusing to do any manual work. This they understood, as it was much like home.

Unnoticed over the past 40 years, they have quietly and insidiously managed to hijack the Dole System, the State Medical System, the free Schooling System as well as the Public Transport infra-structure all while the Tories and Labour politicians have been busy screwing their secretaries (or each other) admitted to drug abuse, sexual deviation and child molestation and of course bombing Iran and Iraq.

During all these shenanigans, the immigrants also managed to persuade the politicians to change laws allowing minors to have more rights than taxpayers and working people, ensuring that parents are underlings to kids demands, declaring Noddy and Big Ears racist, schooling to be optional, street gangs a product of successful entrepreneurs avarice and the police force still to be mainly unarmed (of course there are no guns in Britain). The infiltration of British Society was so crafty and well organised that immigrants eventually outnumber the English by 3 to 1 in London, Birmingham, Liverpool and Manchester.

The racial demographic in the UK changed to such an extent that they had to import foreign players in the NSL and FA Cup to reflect the true British population. Now they are battling to field an England team with surnames that are pronounceable by radio and TV commentators in the English speaking world.

Over the past week these very crafty immigrants have also successfully demonstrated a policy of wealth distribution that puts a 48" plasma TV in every home in the projects, so that they might also get to see their favourite FA Cup team's fans, beat up the rival fans at a nearby game, all led by their kids as main cheerleaders. Now we know the reason why so many South Africans left for Britain as the violence there is so much better than here and they rob entire shops, neighbourhoods and streets, not just single dwellings. This is what we in South Africa should aim for, equal treatment for everyone!

We must however be glad that in Britain they do not overturn dustbins and block traffic as they do in South Africa. Heaven forbid that should happen. You would have a national catastrophe because they have no more bloody garbage collectors, they are all on the dole. Mind you, as a friend of mine has commented, their Dental Aid is definitely not free. Look at the state of their teeth! I have never seen an entire country with such bad looking teeth.

I wonder if we should put forward South Africa as an alternative venue for the 2012 Olympics? Where are those bloody Pommy journalists now who predicted murder and mayhem during the FIFA World Cup? How safe are your streets now you Limey f**ks?

What astounds me most is that, in the heat of summer, the British politicians are now supplying the Police with a van which has a shower nozzle attached! Boy I wish I was a street kid in the UK!

I have already applied for political asylum and bought my kids jackboots so that they may quickly learn the technique of removing a plate glass window from a shop front, so that they may claim the Breitling watch, X-Box, Sony 48" TV or Nike Sneakers that is rightfully ours as we land.

God save the Queen!"

So this is the rub in my opinion. Here in this part of middle England I have been incedulous almost by just how accepting these people are of others. Maybe too accepting I agree but I think this society is still, even in this day and age, built on the value and principles of honesty and respect. Yes there maybe the proverbial handful that have different values but it seems they are the minority.  I would be curious to know if it is like this where you are.

And finally, I also got this today which tickled me...

Until tomorrow.