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.

Day 114 - Bankers or Wankers?

Banks. Love them or hate them at some point you have to use one of them. It may well be to you (and me) a grudge service and grudge payment when the fees come off but it may be for most of the time better than keeping the money under the mattress.Their collective greed, along with their future gazing at the markets has in the past few years been partly and probably largely to blame for the financial meltdown (the other part of course is the individual greed that fueled their ever more imaginative credit giving schemes) and its a bit like them towards their customers, I have little liking or sympathy for them when they fall over. I have ventured into quite a few different bank branches since arriving here on these shores and I can say with certainty that for all the first worldness and efficiency of this country, the presentation of their banking leaves a lot to be desired.

I am hardly an expert in these matters and it could well be that this is the way it is done here in the modern world, maybe what I am used to is the smoke and mirrors of SA banking, where it must look good, and it must talk good and it is must be simpler better and faster and maybe wear trainers / takkies on a Friday to speed things up. Maybe it is better here I don't know. But I do know this, to get a cheque cleared on a special clearance depends completely on the postal service. This surprised me. To deposit cash takes an awful long time because each note is counted by hand, there is no such thing as using a cash counter type thingymejig. Oh no, by hand it is. And as the queue stretches behind you to infinity you wonder if maybe they think differently. There will be an argument that due to these times of austerity their branches have not been invested in. Some of the decoration I have seen I think goes back to the 80's and lets put this into perspective. The banks are still making billions, there is still no danger of the bartering system coming back in.

So what is good about them? Well, it seems that they don't advertise a whole lot. No I haven't seen too many bill boards with the proverbial Marlborough man type advertising, there are a few adverts on TV ( and the ones there are don't feature every racial group in the country) but not nearly as many as what I became used to, there are no revolving and one in at a time doors at the branches. Opening a bank account here is considered a necessity and not a lifestyle choice and I think that's the difference. But like a said, I am not an expert. Fees are reasonable in comparison, ATM withdrawals I think are free, the teller can pay an account for you from your account to a different bank and they don't ask for an ID book every two minutes. But personal banking security is tight, a thing called pin Sentry seems to be the norm - but a bank is a bank, they still try their damnedest to get your money out of you but they're just a bit better and nicer at being greedy.

Anyway, I hope this hasn't bored you too much. I am still in the observing the differences phase here and like I've said its a year in my life....

Until tomorrow.

Day 113 - Lager and Lime.

I confess, and I know this is going to sound very arrogant but I don't know what to do when confronted by the traits of persevering stupidity that so often rears its dreaded and very ugly head. Knowingly stupid people I can get along with because the line has been drawn and we both know the limits of each other. Well at least I know what the limit is with the other person.But when someone really is so desperate for another dollop of common sense that it renders them stupid in most simple situations...it drives me to drink - that is a damn good excuse actually when you read some of my postings lately.

You can only do so much for some people. You can only train staff members so far before you put them in a customer facing role and they have to deal with it. The vast majority of staff just get on with it and learn quickly on the job. The vast majority will feed off their colleagues if they are stuck for what to do. The vast majority will have some life experience, they would have eaten in a restaurant, opened a bottle of wine for their mom, snuck a sneaky underage vodka and mix when no one was looking. So they would have had some life experience. Simple stuff but experience never the less. With me? Not this one particular person who I am talking about.

At eighteen I understand that he is just starting out in life, I am patient, I have coached him but there are some things like putting a piece of lime - yes a wedge of the fruit that grows on a tree - into a lager when a customer asked for a lager and lime that I could not have predicted. That lime cordial would not have come into his head is beyond me. And the handing of two wrapped humbug sweets to a customer today when the customer came to the bar to order sweets.Oh yes he did. I promise. I would never have been able to make that up. Or the constant crossed arms or hands in the pocket when I have spoken to him a zillion times about body language etc.

Joys of joys is the hospitality trade sometimes. The upside though is that people like these are quite few and far between and most people pick up bar work quite quickly (which is no surprise because really its not that difficult!) But there is always one. And he shall, following our chat today, be a rarity behind that bar from now on. He has been redeployed, in the nicest possible way of course because I am a nice guy, to pot washing in the kitchen and one quiet shift on the bar. I don't have the babysitting patience now that I am getting older and I shall reward him with more bar shifts once he demonstrates a little more oomph!

On a more positive note, weekend #3 is now being put to bed and again a successful one it was. The sale of Sunday roast dinners with all the trimmings is steadily growing each week, the noise of this music'less pub is deafening with the chatter of people. Its a good place to be right now.

Until tomorrow. God Speed.

Day 112 - Expensive Steak

The funny thing about life is that everyday has an opportunity to experience or learn new things. One would think that as you get older you have seen most stuff but now and again something new comes along that's sparks an interest, a thought.

Up until yesterday I had never met a person who has bought a cow. Yes in case you thought you may have misread that last word, a cow. The real live four legged moo moo bovine variety that produces milk or burgers depending on your preference. Up until yesterday I would have had no idea that there are such things as show cows and cows with a name and double barrelled surname, each part of it relating to its blood line. I would not have known that the cow's mother, and her performance both in breeding and in country shows is an indicator of its price on auction. I would not have guessed that in some parts of the world cows have changed hands for up to a million dollars. An expensive steak if there ever was one.

No, buying a cow is not something that would have occurred to me. A dog maybe, a cat maybe, even a rabbit, but a cow? Where do you kennel a cow if you live in the city. Do they sell cow food down the local supermarket? I really need to pay more attention. Do you take it for a walk?

Until yesterday that is, when in walks one of my bar ladies and who happily announces to us and all who would listen about this purchase of a cow at auction she had made in the morning. OK she is a bit posh and does live on a farm somewhere I think. It, Eleanour the cow, shall compliment her horses she tells us with breathless enthusiasm. All we're thinking about is McDonalds. Hmm. Never to late to learn I say.

I also had the displeasure of partaking in some clothes shopping with the eldest of my offspring. Fortunately it was a short trip but I did wonder at the mark ups of shops who can afford 70% off sale prices. It was good for me as I spent a whole less than I thought I would but I also wondered at the people scurrying around with their tattooed limbs in shorts and skirts with sleeveless tops like they were in the south of Spain. It was pretty obvious who had just been on holiday as their tan stood out against those who hadn't been away. Temperature reading according to my car? 16 c. That is not warm. These people should be wrapped up. 16 in Durban would be a bitter day indeed. It would be close to snow, people would claim hypothermia as a justifiable reason not to go to work. Kloof and Hillcrest would be even colder at about 14 degrees. Swimming pools would almost ice over. Pictures on fb would be of people wrapped up in their grannies scarves, sipping on OBS but still having a braai. Ah yes, winter in Durban is not pleasant. But in Stafford it is a warm day, almost sun tanning weather it is.

I have gone on a bit about the UK since I got here. I have written about how good it is, how efficient it is, how good the road infrastructure is. But what I have not written about is the banks. And since I have been into a few the past few weeks I would like to give my views on these venerable some state run because they couldn't get away from the greed institutions. In comparison to the rest of this first world country the banking system is best described as odd. But let me tell you more about this in the days to come.

Until tomorrow.

Day 111 - Nelson

There is a simmering anger amongst the people that I have spoken to in the pub about what has happened in their country over the past week. All are disgusted by what has happened and how they are now portrayed in the eyes of the world. The papers here are filled with stories about the people who were involved, on both sides and what has surprised many is the range and diversity of people who got involved in the looting.

From young degreed intelligent people who should know better but couldn't help themselves in the face of temptation (and who now face a trying to get on in life with a criminal record) to toe rag council estate scum who know no better and claim their 'rights', the courts and cells have been filled to overflowing.

Every columnist and editor is spewing words to describe this brief chapter. So has anything changed? The PM pledges tough action against them, parliament is recalled for an emergency debate...serious stuff, the outcome? Police can now remove the hoodie and masks of the rioters so to identify them easily. Before they couldn't. Um, that's about it. No resolution on whether the rioters should be / could be shot (which is a pity), no resolution on whether the water cannon can be deployed, no resolution on whether their state benefits should be axed. No resolution on longer jail terms. No. 

In a few weeks time this will all be forgotten as the next new threat to society shows itself. Sad I think but probably the reality. The police though, yes the same plod who only a few days ago were heavily criticised, have been remarkably efficient in knocking on doors and arresting the rioters. They have promised that they will, with the help of millions of CCTV cameras catch every one of them and make them pay. Good on them!

The view that I am getting from average Joe has surprised me, there has been no mention against immigrants in this country of whatever colour and there is general agreement that this government, and the previous one too, does not have the balls to force change through. Like most governments they will stick to preying on the easy targets, the reasonable people that will listen to them, will pay their tax, will be responsible and respectable.

What the government has underestimated, in my view, is that should this happen again communities will form very powerful groups much quicker than they did this time round and they will enforce the laws of the street. Average Joe will himself be caught up in the mob mentality because he is not keen to see this happen again in his street.

As I sit here with one leg raised in the spirit of Nelson - if you follow cricket you'll know what I'm talking about - I wonder to myself about what the future will hold for us. There is no doubt in my mind that moving here was the right decision, the holiday goggles glow is starting to diminish as we immerse ourselves in the daily stuff - I was going to write grind buts its not yet -  but so far we have only had good experiences. I think that it is a positive place to live in (where we are anyway), I think our offspring are settling in remarkably well and the youngest is already well known by the customers of the pub, especially those customers with dogs, the eldest has worked out for herself that some of the other kids are different to her so she avoids them...people are or seem to be very friendly here and I think its all to do with them not having the need for literal and psychological self protection all the time. I don't know if that makes sense but its difficult to explain.

Until tomorrow.

Day 110 - Fancy an iPod?

The sun dropped a little in the early evening sky. The plans for me and my mates were set. Tonight was the turn of your town to be ransacked by us. Pickings were rich because security was so poor and there is little threat of any action being taken against us. And anyway, I ain't been done before so whats the worst that can happen, eh?

My BBM beeps, its time to meet up with the bro's for a couple ciders before we get going.

I wave goodbye to mum, she thinks I'm going to the movies at the mall to see the latest 'arry Potter and by the time I get back she'll be fast asleep in front of the telly, gin bottle on her lap.

Me dad left us years ago so don't hear from 'im much.

The street lights are on as I meet my mates on the corner by the off licence. Josh, the biggest of us goes in. He doesn't get asked much for his pass card so he normally gets a slab of cider for us. When he comes out he's laughing to himself, he tells us that all he can see of us in the gloom is the white of our new trainers we picked up last night from Foot Locker. The adrenalin from last night has gone down a bit, running from the cops and their batons scared the shit outta me I tell you. But it was a good night and a good fight. Two pairs of quality trainers and a flat screen are new additions in my room. Mum thinks its the job down the news agent that's giving me all this money. I feel a bit bad for her but 'ey, that's life, all me mates are doing the same thing. What else is there for us to do on the holidays. It's not like we can afford to go to Spain or sumthing.

The cider is going down proper. I can start to feel the tingly feeling in my cheeks. Tonight is gonna be a good night. I fancy an iPod to be honest, maybe a iPad too. Dunno we'll see what happens. The cops aren't gonna do nuffink are they. Saw on the news earlier that they tired of working every night and anyway we've worked a good diversion for them if they come too close and our spotters will give us early warning. We start walking down the high street in your town. It's still quiet but the adrenalin is going now again. The news agent, nice bloke, is busy closing up for the night, we hit him from behind with the lid of the bin. He's bleedin' a bit but still breeving anyway so we take his money and as much booze as we can carry from the shop. We wonder on a bit, the rest of the bro's are starting to gather by the park. We share the booze with the boys and together we head down the high street again, I'm a bit wobbly now from the JD, this time heading for the Apple store. About a 'undred yards ahead of us there are cops everywhere, blue lights lighting up the walls of the buildings. Strange this time, they're not moving towards us like they did yesterday. They are quiet except for one bloke on a tannoy saying something which I can't hear. All me mates are shouting at the cops, drowning out the tannoy, the adrenalin and the booze making it impossible to even think straight. My mate next to me throws something at them, it crashes into the street just ahead of us and burst into flames, more stuff is thrown, a parked car catches alight.

It hits me like a speeding train. I fall backwards. I'm worrying about dirtying my new trainers. It seems that I'm lying in a pool of water. Which is a bit odd really as its not raining...the others are looking down at me, one asks why I'm bleeding. I can't really see him anymore, it's gone a bit dark, I wonder if the turning the street lights off is a police tactic to disorientate us. I can hear the confusion though as another falls with a thud near to where I'm lying. The panic shouting sets in and I am trodden on by me mates as they struggle to get away. No one stops to help me. I try and shout to them to come back but they don't. The next voice I says's he doesn't think I'm going to make it, he says I have massive upper torso injuries, whatever that means... I wonder if me mum is asleep yet.

God speed.

Day 109 - Great Britain

What started as geographic specific riots in parts of London have spread all over the place, sucking in town and cities to the mess that started and arrogance of kids on the rampage. Finally, communities have woken up and realised that action instead of blame would more likely get results. I wrote a few days ago that there would be a backlash, that it was only a matter of time. And would you believe it? It has started. Some call them vigilante groups, whatever, they are out to teach a lesson to the wankers that have made their lives and the lives of their families a misery over the past few days. They will catch one soon enough and I pity his soul. But I feel nothing.

I'm not an Englishman, but I feel what has happened is against the very fibre of what binds this hodge podge of a nation together. I have been interested in the few comments that I have seen on facebook recently about all this stuff. There seems to be a smugness, a told you so attitude, a 'and they thought SA was bad, surely the Olympics can't be there' type of approach. Here's my view. And please remember that I am a foreigner here too and that my allegiance is still, right now anyway, to SA. What has happened here is alien to this culture of general law and order. It is sporadic but also quite extreme and unlikely to happen again for quite some time. The difference to here and SA is quite stark. In SA, and you would have to very biased not to agree with me, there is a pervading culture of crime and disorder. We - you now - are so accustomed to living in the culture that you stop seeing it for what it is. The youth of all colours in SA are no different once they get going. Believe me I have seen this culture more times than I care to remember in the past ten years.

In SA you have barricaded yourself in your home to the best that you can afford. You have alarm systems, armed response, electric fences, a gun in your house, big dogs. You know it will come for you eventually, you expect it to happen to you one day but you plan for it. If what has happened here happens there you can be sure that the communities that you live in will not stand together. You can be sure that, like here, the violence will be gratuitous. You can be sure too that the difference will not be black and white but rather good and bad.

That the education system has failed these idiots here is not in question. That the discipline or lack thereof applied over the past generation or so has now come home to roost is probably some of it, but remember there is a generation in SA and many in Oz, NZ and the USA that similarly have no idea of respect and values either. I don't think that what has happened here is to do with discipline, I think it is more to do with mob mentality. In SA back in the day, mob mentality would force normally good people to kill others, it would coerce them to put a burning tyre around the body of the victim. As a white South African it led me into war and I believed at the time that it was the right thing to do. Just like these kids probably believe that they too are doing something that is right or something they believe in. To the rest of us it is a disgusting show of criminality and greed. 

If you know London you will know that its streets are a warren of avenues and pathways. To police them all would be at best impossible and the pure fact that in only a few days they have mobilised 16000 policemen onto the streets of London does hint at the scale of the problem. Do you realise just how many 16000 policemen is? And believe me they don't take shit but they do it politely most of the time and like I wrote, they, the police, will eventually lose patience and take up arms, they are doing this and some of these thieving bastards are going to die. Good riddance. Let them die. What has happened here is absolutely abnormal and should be seen in that context.The country is not burning. But it does need strong leadership and a steady hand.

Until tomorrow. God speed.

Day 108 - Love & Hate

I wondered around the wholesaler again this morning, this time besides shopping, taking in the people that were also there doing the same things. Wondering what they do for a living, wondering where their businesses are and most of all wondering why everyone I saw this morning had tattoos. From the lady at reception to the checkout people, to the customers, everyone was inked somewhere.

I might be a bit old, I accept that, but I do struggle to understand the need to get stamped. I am told by those who are that it is an addiction. That one almost always leads to another. I still don't get it. What makes a chinless wonder from Stoke want tribal patterns over his shoulders and down his arms to his wrist. There is every possibility that this bloke has never spent a day with a tribe of any description. That the closest he got to a tribe was while watching national geographic. There is every possibility that those Chinese letters inscripted on his thigh are not actually the names of his favourite football players but actually a variety of insults aimed at the the hapless inkee. (is inkee a word?) 

As I am old I also accept that maybe I am also old fashioned but a prospective employee sat in front of me with Love and Hate written across his knuckles and a dotted line with the words 'cut here' inscribed around his neck, well, there is a strong possibility that he would not be employed.

There is also a strong possibility that the all smiling and singing dolphin frolicking in the surf tattooed across the tummy of a pretty girl...will look like a beached overweight whale after kids and junk food have all worked their magic. Just saying. Tattoos. For average Joe, with no lifelong allegiance to any gang, club or battalion, I don't get it.

Anyway, that's my ramble for the day. I had the joy of taking my youngest with me this morning and so to annoy everyone at the store I gave him his own trolley to drive. The trip was remarkably peaceful for me as he wondered about doing his own thing. As tough as a 6 year old thinks he is he did come and find me every few minutes just in case...but to not have the whining was a pleasure. The pub's trade remains brisk. Starting to see familiar faces, people coming back for a second helping which is great to see. The brewery owners were in on Sunday afternoon and very happy with the trade levels. So pretty much its all good right now.

The Royal Oak at night.

Until tomorrow.

Day 107 - Forty Thousand Pubs

I have just had the best steak ever. For lunch. OK it was not cooked on an open flame like it should be but my word it was fab. Maybe it was so great because we haven't eaten properly for it feels like forever. And there was no alcohol involved to cloud my senses (and my judgement some would say). No this was for lunch and in a short while i shall go back to work and be ready for the evening.

I have in the past been repeatedly accused of poor communication. Often by family and sometimes by friends. I am not really a phone chatter and babbling on for half an hour down a phone is not my strength. I was even asked before we came over here whether or not I would still stay in touch with family. A bit odd really because isn't it me writing this thing every day (and I was writing it before i left), isn't it me telling it all, baring my soul? Isn't it me sending the odd email on top of this. Isn't it me getting not much back? So who are the poor communicators now?

The riots in London have spread. Last night there was chaos in Brixton, surprise surprise, and the some east London suburbs. I wonder if those from the darker colonies think that this is their Tunisian moment. That they will force the fall of the government. They will topple tyranny. Oh wait. Hang on. This is a democracy. The people not long ago voted for the current government. This place has what will now be a running out of patience police force and you can only steal so many flat screens from the shop you have broken into before a metal baton wraps around your head. And don't then complain and whine about your human rights. You have voluntarily given them up and you can only piss off your hosts so much, and they have been way too tolerant already, before they realise that actually you don't have the right to complain anyway and that actually you choose to live here and feel free to change your mind and go back to Nigeria or where ever it is you come from. Their good manners will wear out if you carry on this path of destructiveness. You can only burn so many 100 year old buildings down before they bring out the big guns. You have been warned.

And the absurdity of it all? There were news reports this morning of looters standing in orderly queues waiting for their turn to steel from broken into shops.

Onto some nice stuff. Yesterday about lunch time, I was behind the ramp when I heard my name being called...with a very distinctive Saffer accent. I look up (a bit nervously to be honest) and there are a couple from Amanzimtexas! They used to eat in our restaurants, he used to play squash with my father. By absolute chance they had chosen this pub out of the 40 000 or so in the UK to come for a drink. They had no idea that I was here. They were here for a wedding and tell me they often come to this part of the world. I am not a mathematician or an actuary but i bet the chances of this happening would be in the millions to one. I feel the purchase of a lottery ticket coming on!

Until tomorrow.

Day 106 - Hot Totty (enham)

You can't take me anywhere. Well you can actually. The first time to have a good time, the second time to apologise and pick up my name. I had a quick look at yesterdays post and I am quite embarrassed. I could edit it but to change it would be against the spirit of observing my life and thoughts for a whole year. Don't know what you're gonna do on day 366 when there is no post to read.. Don't know what I'm going to do either.

Busy busy yesterday, had our best day so far on food which is brilliant, bar sales last night were brisk, there were no idiots in which was fantastic and even better, the pub across the road, the one also run by a Saffer was busy too! So all round a pleasing weekend so far with today to go.

Woke this morning to Sky News going on about the riots in Tottenham. Now, you have probably worked out that I am not very politically correct, I tend to call it as I see it. This is my understanding of what happened, and please it is only my view cobbled together from various news reports. Remember this is England, this is where people are educated, they generally know right from wrong, they are trained well. And although the plod aren't my favourite species I would accept that 99.9% of them would not shoot me if they didn't think there was imminent lethal danger to themselves or people around them. This is also the country where there are draconian gun laws. In other words if you have a gun  - and I'm not talking about the hunting type - you are probably doing something you shouldn't be. And the police would be a bit edgy. With me so far?

So this black dude in Tottenham on Thursday starts waving his gun around and pulling the trigger a few times. The police now a bit edgy give him some lead earplugs. He is no more. Fair enough. That would probably happen anywhere in the world. So the grieving family and his gangsta friends, probably majority black, yesterday, march on the local nick, start a riot, burn buildings, buses and car, loot shops and cause untold misery for families living above shops, for people trying to make a living. And the bunny huggers are trying to pin the blame on the cops. C'mon, I know I'm new here and a foreigner but really. Surely they don't honestly think that the police are to blame. The are being accused of being a bit slow to react. Of course they would have been. The local nick in Tottenham probably doesn't have a riot squad on permanent duty on a Saturday evening. They probably had to call people in, they probably;y had to muster a temporary squad to get things going. But the fault is not with the police, it is with the wankers who started all the shit in the first place, those who have zero respect for anyone else. Those who think (and this would be a minority it must be said) that because they are black they must be a/ a gangster or b/ a thug or c/ poor or d/ a criminal. Unfortunately the local nick didn't have a water cannon or rubber bullet firing weapon to hand. Or even better a 30 Browning. That normally separates things.

No people. If you want live here you should adapt to this culture. I know the world is a changing place, but respect for others cost nothing. It is a sad sign of the times that the British government is debating whether or not to reintroduce the death penalty. Maybe what they should start first is introducing deportation orders for people whose parents or grandparents didn't originally come from this country. That would wake a few up. They think they got it tough now. It would be a lot tougher for a wannabee London gangsta in Mogadishu.

But, as you know it's not going to happen. Every tree hugger, bunny hugger and do gooder will make sure of that. As long as they stay in London and no where near me.

Until tomorrow.