Yet another round of apologies to people who want to comment but can't...always seems odd to me that Disqus and Blogger are as incompatible as they seem to be, but it's certainly the case...these technologists should learn that 2+2 = 4 before they start trying to do the more complicated sums.
We're back to blissful normality at home for a few short days. The Cat returned last night and is staying until Sunday. Naturally enough, as with all good students, in the time between her arrival at 10.30 and going to bed a couple of hours later she ate us out of house and home. No doubt she will stay in bed until the middle of the afternoon, and then stay in pyjamas for the rest of the day. It's is delightful to have her back of course, hear how things have been going (very well) and to just have her around. I'm not going to even try and understand why it is that Uni students want to come home during term time...I never did, nor do I remember any of my contemporaries...but they all seem to to their parents delight. Anyway, it's good to have her for a few days. Hopefully I will find out more about what she's been up to..The Cat and The Cat's Mother talk every day, but it can then be a challenge worthy of Hercule Poirot to get that information relayed onto me. The Cat's Mother doesn't tend to pass things on assuming that through a process of osmosis we will all get it. If I'm foolish enough to ask a generalised question like "How's The Cat getting on?", I'll get an answer back "Very well." So I'm none the wiser. I have to learn to ask some very, very specific questions which generally require me to have some prior knowledge to ask them. Anyway, outside of her course work I gather she's involved in two drama projects...one called August, the other of which I know nothing.
The house will begin to empty out early on Saturday when The Boy goes off on a ten day ski instructors course in Austria, and then The Cat heads back down south-west on Sunday which will leave us in a very empty house next week. I suspect The Cat's Mother and I should sit down and talk about this in a sensible, grown up way rather than just stumble into it feeling a little bit glum.
If you haven't yet seen it, I would highly recommend you hot foot it down to your local cinema to see Captain Phillips. It's a supreme film which racks up the tension from the start so that by the end you've chewed your nails all the way up to your knuckles. It's a simple story, well told with the highest quality acting from the entire cast. Well drawn characters with some terrific camera work, especially in the lifeboat helps make this one of the best films of the year. That's praise indeed from someone who generally can't stand Tom Hanks' acting.
Thursday, 31 October 2013
Monday, 28 October 2013
Not hurting
It was probably a little ambitious to think that we would make The Hurts gig on Saturday night.
There were no tube trains over the weekend from our neck of the woods, so the only real option was to drive, and then park in some of the dodgiest streets of East London.
Obviously another contributing factor was that I'd arrived home at 7.00am after my nightride. Again, I'd probably been a little ambitious - I hadn't been on the bike since my accident and to pile on the misery I'd had a nasty cold and cough that I'd struggled to shake off. So I was really quite unfit. But with another 400 people all dressed in halloween outfits of one sort or another - mine was a glow in the dark skeleton - I was sort of carried along with the enthusiasm of the mob. During the course of the ride I discovered that there is a mountain in North London (well it felt like it) and that even puncture-proof tyres do get punctures. I discovered that curry is brilliant at two in the morning, and that it's easy to get lost when that puncture separates you from the rest of the crowd - if you look at the picture you'll see towards the left a spur where I crossed the Hammersmith Bridge and then had to retrace my steps. But what struck me most was how time stands still at a certain moment...I know pretty much what time it was and where I was until 2.30, but then until six thirty and my return to base I had no feeling for time ticking by at all. I was revived by a pretty excellent bacon and egg sandwich and glass of champagne, and decided to cycle an extra 25km home. (Un)Fortunately the rain came down as I approached Stratford, so I was able to find a kindly taxi driver who took me and my bike the rest of the way home. Phew
I don't think I've ever been so exhausted...but a long snooze until lunchtime revived my spirits....if not my enthusiasm for going out again
Who says advertising doesn't work? Many years ago, I saw this advert:
And then rushed out and bought a Velvet Underground album...and today seems a good day to remind myself of both the ad and the song
There were no tube trains over the weekend from our neck of the woods, so the only real option was to drive, and then park in some of the dodgiest streets of East London.
Obviously another contributing factor was that I'd arrived home at 7.00am after my nightride. Again, I'd probably been a little ambitious - I hadn't been on the bike since my accident and to pile on the misery I'd had a nasty cold and cough that I'd struggled to shake off. So I was really quite unfit. But with another 400 people all dressed in halloween outfits of one sort or another - mine was a glow in the dark skeleton - I was sort of carried along with the enthusiasm of the mob. During the course of the ride I discovered that there is a mountain in North London (well it felt like it) and that even puncture-proof tyres do get punctures. I discovered that curry is brilliant at two in the morning, and that it's easy to get lost when that puncture separates you from the rest of the crowd - if you look at the picture you'll see towards the left a spur where I crossed the Hammersmith Bridge and then had to retrace my steps. But what struck me most was how time stands still at a certain moment...I know pretty much what time it was and where I was until 2.30, but then until six thirty and my return to base I had no feeling for time ticking by at all. I was revived by a pretty excellent bacon and egg sandwich and glass of champagne, and decided to cycle an extra 25km home. (Un)Fortunately the rain came down as I approached Stratford, so I was able to find a kindly taxi driver who took me and my bike the rest of the way home. Phew
I don't think I've ever been so exhausted...but a long snooze until lunchtime revived my spirits....if not my enthusiasm for going out again
Who says advertising doesn't work? Many years ago, I saw this advert:
And then rushed out and bought a Velvet Underground album...and today seems a good day to remind myself of both the ad and the song
Friday, 25 October 2013
Hurting
I do miss some great photo opportunities.
Yesterday morning stopped outside our local pub was the biggest articulated truck I have ever seen. It wasn't stopped in a straight line, it looked jack-knifed with its cab folded back almost onto the trailer. Also parked was a police car. Inside one police woman was writing notes. The other policeman was wandering around outside. There was no sign of the lorry driver.
One thing I know for certain was that the truck had not been speeding and had not had to brake sharply to end up in this position. The reason I know this is that the only way to get to the pub is up a long, very narrow lane. You have to drive very slowly even in a small car to navigate your way. At best there is room for traffic in one direction as there are cars parked all along one side, and you take your life in your hands if you drive anything much bigger than a Ford Cortina. My suspicion is that the driver had blindly followed his sat nav and taken a wrong turn. There is nowhere to turn. It will have to reverse down. That may take all day, or perhaps longer as the lane is quite winding. And steep (I know. - it nearly kills me when I cycle up it).
In truth he had done every well to get it up there at all. But I do feel sorry for the owner of the Mini Convertible which was parked down the lane. One side had been removed, leaving a jagged wreck and two wheels were spread liberally across the road.
It's always hard to engage brain when following a sat nav.
Last night I briefly attended the World Architecture House of the Year Awards. Not surprisingly, it was won by a Swedish house which looked as though it had a concrete pyramid for a roof. The room was full of achingly beautiful young things all claiming to be architects. Some of them may even have been. After a quick couple of glasses of champagne I hot-footed it back to our neck of the woods to see the second half of the amateur production of 'Playboy of the western world'. It's certainly a good deal better now than when I studied it for 'O' level...I wonder how I would have felt then if I'd actually seen it performed.
Tonight I'll be dining at the National Theatre. The Cat's Mother, sister and brother, and bessie will be there listening to an interview with the loveable Simon Russell-Beale, but I'll be missing that and arriving just in time for the food. Once we've dined, The Cat's Mother will return home. I will return to my office, climb into my halloween glow-in-the-dark skeleton outfit and then set off for a 100km fright night ride round the streets of London, hopefully returning by dawn. I hope it isn't raining. As I haven't cycled since I was knocked off, it may prove to be more than quite a challenge.
When I do get home, I hope I can have a sleep, as Saturday evening we're off to see The Hurts...it's a Wonderful Life
Yesterday morning stopped outside our local pub was the biggest articulated truck I have ever seen. It wasn't stopped in a straight line, it looked jack-knifed with its cab folded back almost onto the trailer. Also parked was a police car. Inside one police woman was writing notes. The other policeman was wandering around outside. There was no sign of the lorry driver.
One thing I know for certain was that the truck had not been speeding and had not had to brake sharply to end up in this position. The reason I know this is that the only way to get to the pub is up a long, very narrow lane. You have to drive very slowly even in a small car to navigate your way. At best there is room for traffic in one direction as there are cars parked all along one side, and you take your life in your hands if you drive anything much bigger than a Ford Cortina. My suspicion is that the driver had blindly followed his sat nav and taken a wrong turn. There is nowhere to turn. It will have to reverse down. That may take all day, or perhaps longer as the lane is quite winding. And steep (I know. - it nearly kills me when I cycle up it).
In truth he had done every well to get it up there at all. But I do feel sorry for the owner of the Mini Convertible which was parked down the lane. One side had been removed, leaving a jagged wreck and two wheels were spread liberally across the road.
It's always hard to engage brain when following a sat nav.
Last night I briefly attended the World Architecture House of the Year Awards. Not surprisingly, it was won by a Swedish house which looked as though it had a concrete pyramid for a roof. The room was full of achingly beautiful young things all claiming to be architects. Some of them may even have been. After a quick couple of glasses of champagne I hot-footed it back to our neck of the woods to see the second half of the amateur production of 'Playboy of the western world'. It's certainly a good deal better now than when I studied it for 'O' level...I wonder how I would have felt then if I'd actually seen it performed.
Tonight I'll be dining at the National Theatre. The Cat's Mother, sister and brother, and bessie will be there listening to an interview with the loveable Simon Russell-Beale, but I'll be missing that and arriving just in time for the food. Once we've dined, The Cat's Mother will return home. I will return to my office, climb into my halloween glow-in-the-dark skeleton outfit and then set off for a 100km fright night ride round the streets of London, hopefully returning by dawn. I hope it isn't raining. As I haven't cycled since I was knocked off, it may prove to be more than quite a challenge.
When I do get home, I hope I can have a sleep, as Saturday evening we're off to see The Hurts...it's a Wonderful Life
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
Taking a bite
The Boy may be contemplating whether his trip to Brecon Beacon was a wise decision. I received a text this morning which said "Sideways rain, gale force winds, endless foggy skies and a landslide blocking the main road. We left at 6.30 to go 5 miles by 7.00. Had to spend an hour and a half going round."
I say it's all character building. but I'm glad it's him, not me.
Some people think The Cat's Mother and I go to theatre, cinema and events too much. "It can't be very special can it?" They say. It's a fair point really. But we like doing it...it's a hobby in just the same way writing a blog is. We are quite picky about what we see, but that doesn't mean we don't get it wrong sometimes. There have been some real clunkers this year, and an awful lot of mediocrity. But in the same way you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your Prince (or Princess), it all seems worthwhile when you finally get to see something that's really worth it. And last night was absolutely worth it.
We went to see Dracula, a dance production at the Wiltons Music Hall. It's an old building (of course) and pretty tumble down, even with some restoration work having been done, and some more to come next year. In a sense the building was ideal for a dark, fore boding horror story. The creator, Mark Bruce, had excelled in every respect. It was dark with mist enveloping stage and audience, the staging was creepy and the music was perfect...spooky and scary and it filled the auditorium. Some of the costumes were remarkable...the devil hounds and the horses pulling the carriage up to Dracula's castle were beautifully conceived. All the dancers were phenomenal, with Jonathan Goddard as Dracula the stand out performer. If you live Oxford it will be there for a couple of nights in November and in the south-west, you can still catch it in Frome I think...highly, highly recommended
I say it's all character building. but I'm glad it's him, not me.
Some people think The Cat's Mother and I go to theatre, cinema and events too much. "It can't be very special can it?" They say. It's a fair point really. But we like doing it...it's a hobby in just the same way writing a blog is. We are quite picky about what we see, but that doesn't mean we don't get it wrong sometimes. There have been some real clunkers this year, and an awful lot of mediocrity. But in the same way you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your Prince (or Princess), it all seems worthwhile when you finally get to see something that's really worth it. And last night was absolutely worth it.
We went to see Dracula, a dance production at the Wiltons Music Hall. It's an old building (of course) and pretty tumble down, even with some restoration work having been done, and some more to come next year. In a sense the building was ideal for a dark, fore boding horror story. The creator, Mark Bruce, had excelled in every respect. It was dark with mist enveloping stage and audience, the staging was creepy and the music was perfect...spooky and scary and it filled the auditorium. Some of the costumes were remarkable...the devil hounds and the horses pulling the carriage up to Dracula's castle were beautifully conceived. All the dancers were phenomenal, with Jonathan Goddard as Dracula the stand out performer. If you live Oxford it will be there for a couple of nights in November and in the south-west, you can still catch it in Frome I think...highly, highly recommended
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
The pupil becomes a teacher
I'm more than a little sad to see that the Co-Op bank has fallen into the hands of villainous American Hedge Funds. I've had a smile.co.uk bank account for many years as I'm a firm supporter of the Co-Op's ethics. It was one place where I thought the banking community could prove you didn't need to be a bastard to make money. The Bank's failure really stems from all the problems in the financial world caused by greedy, unethical bankers. Although the Co-Op will continue to have a sizeable share of the bank, the presence of voracious, immoral American bankers cannot be a good thing, and I don't doubt a change in attitudes and ethics as well as investments being made in immoral, exploitative businesses.
On the up side, The Boy passed his BASI 1 course, so is qualified. I suspect he will want to go on and through the system...that will be his choice entirely, as I have encouraged him thus far. I'm delighted, he's always enjoyed his skiing, he has a natural bent for teaching so all is good. In a couple of weeks he's off to Austria to do their equivalent...I hope he gets through that too...it's all in German, so good job he got that A Level then!
Last weekend was one of blissful domestic routine for The Cat's Mother and I. We headed down to Brighton on Friday in time to enjoy our favourite meal of artisan cheeses, charcuterie and a couple of glasses of red wine at the French cheese shop round the corner from the flat. It's simple and the most delicious meal we ever eat...a real treat for us.
We got a fabulous sculpture this weekend...it sounds ever so grand if I say we commissioned it, but the truth is the amazingly talented artist James Freddy Fenner under charges by a quite ridiculous amount and won't take any more so this didn't cost a lot. Anyway, our Brighton angel gives out a fabulous calming feeling and we're delighted with him.
Brighton is stuffed to the gills with fabulously talented, creative folk so we think of ourselves as very lucky to be able to see so many beautiful pieces, especially during the artists openhouse month of May. It's a shame they don't get more exposure elsewhere as they deserve much greater recognition than they get.
The Boy has headed off to the Brecon Beacons today, via Ludlow. In Ludlow he's meeting up with Grandma in Wales and his Uncle for a spot of lunch. The purpose of his journey is to help the School out for the Gold DofE expedition. So instead of yomping round in the wet, wind and cold, he'll be making sure that the precious darlings are all safe and not lost on the mountainside. I think it's fantastic that he was asked, and that he wanted to do it. He loves the outside, he loves helping organise and run events. I wonder what he will end up doing after University..somehow I don't see him at a desk in the City.
On the up side, The Boy passed his BASI 1 course, so is qualified. I suspect he will want to go on and through the system...that will be his choice entirely, as I have encouraged him thus far. I'm delighted, he's always enjoyed his skiing, he has a natural bent for teaching so all is good. In a couple of weeks he's off to Austria to do their equivalent...I hope he gets through that too...it's all in German, so good job he got that A Level then!
Last weekend was one of blissful domestic routine for The Cat's Mother and I. We headed down to Brighton on Friday in time to enjoy our favourite meal of artisan cheeses, charcuterie and a couple of glasses of red wine at the French cheese shop round the corner from the flat. It's simple and the most delicious meal we ever eat...a real treat for us.
We got a fabulous sculpture this weekend...it sounds ever so grand if I say we commissioned it, but the truth is the amazingly talented artist James Freddy Fenner under charges by a quite ridiculous amount and won't take any more so this didn't cost a lot. Anyway, our Brighton angel gives out a fabulous calming feeling and we're delighted with him.
Brighton is stuffed to the gills with fabulously talented, creative folk so we think of ourselves as very lucky to be able to see so many beautiful pieces, especially during the artists openhouse month of May. It's a shame they don't get more exposure elsewhere as they deserve much greater recognition than they get.
The Boy has headed off to the Brecon Beacons today, via Ludlow. In Ludlow he's meeting up with Grandma in Wales and his Uncle for a spot of lunch. The purpose of his journey is to help the School out for the Gold DofE expedition. So instead of yomping round in the wet, wind and cold, he'll be making sure that the precious darlings are all safe and not lost on the mountainside. I think it's fantastic that he was asked, and that he wanted to do it. He loves the outside, he loves helping organise and run events. I wonder what he will end up doing after University..somehow I don't see him at a desk in the City.
Friday, 18 October 2013
Kato, my little yellow friend, I am home!
Yesterday I bought my first gig tickets for 2014. Lloyd Cole in Shepherds Bush. I'd have liked to have seen him this year, but was slow off the mark and anything within reasonable travelling distance is sold out. He has a new touring band, The Leopards, and judging by this performance on Later with Jools Holland, we're in for a treat
It's slightly bumpy waters at the moment...sometimes from the most unexpected directions. I'm delighted that the car driver who open their door and knocked me off the bike has admitted liability, so that's moving in the right direction. But I haven't yet been out on the bike again. It has been repaired, but there's a big scratch on it...the insurance company's view is that's tough luck, but I think it should be put back into it's pre-accident state. It'll be a battle. I had a letter from the police saying they wouldn't prosecute the driver which is disappointing...or is it just me being vindictive? I've not heard from Gay George for a while (the guy from the office who was very badly hurt in an accident), but last time I spoke to him he was well on the mend.
Assuming the weather isn't bad, and that I've found my cycling legs again, I've signed up for another night time cycle. This time I'll be going round in ever decreasing circles...well actually a figure of eight. I'm doing it next Friday, and it's in fancy dress for halloween. I'm looking forward to it sort of. I start at 11.40. 100km should take me until 5.00 am, and then I might just ride home!
I was amused to get a letter in the post this morning from Inspector Clouseau. Evidently I'd exceeded the speed limit whilst we were in France earlier this year, and he'd tracked me down. I'd be tempted to ignore it (that's the general advice from friends and the interweb), but it is just €45, and let's face it in the UK it'd be plus points too. And President Hollande needs my money I gather from reading the papers.
It's slightly bumpy waters at the moment...sometimes from the most unexpected directions. I'm delighted that the car driver who open their door and knocked me off the bike has admitted liability, so that's moving in the right direction. But I haven't yet been out on the bike again. It has been repaired, but there's a big scratch on it...the insurance company's view is that's tough luck, but I think it should be put back into it's pre-accident state. It'll be a battle. I had a letter from the police saying they wouldn't prosecute the driver which is disappointing...or is it just me being vindictive? I've not heard from Gay George for a while (the guy from the office who was very badly hurt in an accident), but last time I spoke to him he was well on the mend.
Assuming the weather isn't bad, and that I've found my cycling legs again, I've signed up for another night time cycle. This time I'll be going round in ever decreasing circles...well actually a figure of eight. I'm doing it next Friday, and it's in fancy dress for halloween. I'm looking forward to it sort of. I start at 11.40. 100km should take me until 5.00 am, and then I might just ride home!
I was amused to get a letter in the post this morning from Inspector Clouseau. Evidently I'd exceeded the speed limit whilst we were in France earlier this year, and he'd tracked me down. I'd be tempted to ignore it (that's the general advice from friends and the interweb), but it is just €45, and let's face it in the UK it'd be plus points too. And President Hollande needs my money I gather from reading the papers.
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Still wet behind the ears...
Evidently we've already won the next world cup. Looking at various social media outlets after last night's win against Poland, we are not only going to Brazil, but we have already morally trashed all comers. I don't much care (although I do notice I keep writing about foot'n'ball) but wonder what the reaction will be should we not win a single match and get shunted out in the first round. Roll on Rio.
This week, The Boy is mostly learning to be a ski instructor. For his 'BASI 1' qualification, he is spending the week at the Hemel Hempstead Ski centre. I'm glad they have a ski centre, because as far as I know its only other claim to fame has been the most complicated round about in the world - one roundabout with mini-roundabouts at each of the entrances...so you can end up legally going the wrong way round the roundabout. Fortunately, The Boy doesn't have to go through/round/over that on his journey to ski school. Hemel is about 40 minutes away from us on a good day, and a trek of several hours round the M25 and up the M1 during the rush hour, so he is at least getting to practice his driving skills.
Once he's done the course, he will be able to teach you to throw yourself down the (indoor) mountain on two pieces of polished wood. Mad. But fun. He'll then be back home for a week before he heads to Austria to do their equivalent in a place that nobody's heard of after a journey that is the equivalent of going to the Centre of the Earth. I wish him luck...he'll need it. I will merely age several centuries as I fret over whether he has arrived safely. And that's not good because clearing through some old paperwork I realised that if I live only as long as my father, I'm into my last innings. Just 26 years to go. As they say in stocks and shares, past performance is no guarantee of future results. Or something.
I've been quite (very) shocked to see the reaction of some people I know to the Madeleine McCann programme this week. These are folks that I've known for many years and have always found them gentle, friendly and nice. On Facebook they've come out in a vicious, quite a nasty way about how the McCanns should be prosecuted for neglect and probably for the murder of their child. I don't know what happened that night, and I doubt we ever will, but a torrent of bile towards the McCanns doesn't seem civilised at any level.
The Cat's Mother has been pining badly for her daughter, so I have introduced her to Skype. I may have been better off giving her heroin. She thinks it's the greatest invention ever, and proved it on Sunday by making three calls in one day. The Cat is lapping it up at the moment which is terrific. But I can't help but feel that putting a distance between parent and offspring is all part of the university experience. I expect I will be in trouble for even thinking that.
I remember back in the good old sepia coloured days, if you couldn't afford to have the main dealer garage repair your car after an accident, a trip to the local scrap heap would enable you to buy the parts second hand for a fraction of the cost. So after The Boy's little argument with a concrete post on his grandmother's drive, the repair bill for one door was 70% of the value of the car itself. We did the modern equivalent of going to the local scrap yard...these days it's called an internet search. Lo and behold we found the one and only second hand replacement door for the car in the whole UK. A snip at just £250. It will be deducted from his pocket money. It arrived very quickly by courier from Sheffield, and was exactly as described. Black front passenger door for 2006 Toyota Yaris. Stupidly, I hadn't checked that it had all the other elements that would make it of any use...glass, rubber, door mounts, interior panels, etc, etc. How naive am I? They probably can be transferred from the old door by someone with the right expertise. So this is a very public appeal to Big Brother...can you help, or do you know someone who can?
This week, The Boy is mostly learning to be a ski instructor. For his 'BASI 1' qualification, he is spending the week at the Hemel Hempstead Ski centre. I'm glad they have a ski centre, because as far as I know its only other claim to fame has been the most complicated round about in the world - one roundabout with mini-roundabouts at each of the entrances...so you can end up legally going the wrong way round the roundabout. Fortunately, The Boy doesn't have to go through/round/over that on his journey to ski school. Hemel is about 40 minutes away from us on a good day, and a trek of several hours round the M25 and up the M1 during the rush hour, so he is at least getting to practice his driving skills.
Once he's done the course, he will be able to teach you to throw yourself down the (indoor) mountain on two pieces of polished wood. Mad. But fun. He'll then be back home for a week before he heads to Austria to do their equivalent in a place that nobody's heard of after a journey that is the equivalent of going to the Centre of the Earth. I wish him luck...he'll need it. I will merely age several centuries as I fret over whether he has arrived safely. And that's not good because clearing through some old paperwork I realised that if I live only as long as my father, I'm into my last innings. Just 26 years to go. As they say in stocks and shares, past performance is no guarantee of future results. Or something.
I've been quite (very) shocked to see the reaction of some people I know to the Madeleine McCann programme this week. These are folks that I've known for many years and have always found them gentle, friendly and nice. On Facebook they've come out in a vicious, quite a nasty way about how the McCanns should be prosecuted for neglect and probably for the murder of their child. I don't know what happened that night, and I doubt we ever will, but a torrent of bile towards the McCanns doesn't seem civilised at any level.
The Cat's Mother has been pining badly for her daughter, so I have introduced her to Skype. I may have been better off giving her heroin. She thinks it's the greatest invention ever, and proved it on Sunday by making three calls in one day. The Cat is lapping it up at the moment which is terrific. But I can't help but feel that putting a distance between parent and offspring is all part of the university experience. I expect I will be in trouble for even thinking that.
Tuesday, 15 October 2013
Zoo news
Not a good day down at the zoo is it? Have you spotted how many stories from Germany are about zoo animals? Is that the way to world domination?
Edinburgh Zoo panda Tian Tian 'no longer pregnant'
London Zoo newborn Sumatran tiger cub found dead
T
Edinburgh Zoo panda Tian Tian 'no longer pregnant'
Tian Tian was artificially inseminated in April and had been showing signs of pregnancy for several weeks
Edinburgh Zoo's female giant panda, Tian Tian, is no longer expecting a cub, it has been announced.
Experts said her hormone and behavioural signs indicated that she had conceived and carried a foetus until late term, but then lost it.
Tian Tian was artificially inseminated in April and had been showing signs of pregnancy for several weeks.
However, the zoo said she had now returned to the eating and behavioural patterns of a non-pregnant panda.
Chris West, chief executive officer for the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland, said: "Such a loss has always been in our minds as a very real possibility, as it occurs in giant pandas as well as many other animals, including humans.
"What we have achieved, considering we have had giant pandas for less than two years, is immense” says Chris WestRoyal Zoological Society of Scotland
"Our dedicated team of keepers, veterinary staff and many others worked tirelessly to ensure Tian Tian received the best care possible, which included remote observation and closing the panda enclosure to visitors to give her quiet and privacy.
"We are conducting a detailed review of the scientific data collected, but I am totally confident that we did everything it was possible to do."
The panda enclosure will remain closed until the end of the week to give Tian Tian time to get back into her routine and to give her keepers a chance to recuperate.
Keepers insist Tian Tian received the best care possible and remain confident she will eventually give birth.
Mr West added: "The majority of research centres and zoos with giant pandas around the world have not successfully bred until the third or fourth year.
Edinburgh Zoo's female giant panda, Tian Tian, is no longer expecting a cub, it has been announced.
Experts said her hormone and behavioural signs indicated that she had conceived and carried a foetus until late term, but then lost it.
Tian Tian was artificially inseminated in April and had been showing signs of pregnancy for several weeks.
However, the zoo said she had now returned to the eating and behavioural patterns of a non-pregnant panda.
Chris West, chief executive officer for the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland, said: "Such a loss has always been in our minds as a very real possibility, as it occurs in giant pandas as well as many other animals, including humans.
"What we have achieved, considering we have had giant pandas for less than two years, is immense” says Chris WestRoyal Zoological Society of Scotland
"Our dedicated team of keepers, veterinary staff and many others worked tirelessly to ensure Tian Tian received the best care possible, which included remote observation and closing the panda enclosure to visitors to give her quiet and privacy.
"We are conducting a detailed review of the scientific data collected, but I am totally confident that we did everything it was possible to do."
The panda enclosure will remain closed until the end of the week to give Tian Tian time to get back into her routine and to give her keepers a chance to recuperate.
Keepers insist Tian Tian received the best care possible and remain confident she will eventually give birth.
Mr West added: "The majority of research centres and zoos with giant pandas around the world have not successfully bred until the third or fourth year.
"New hormone research is beginning to indicate that lost pregnancies are more common in giant pandas than first thought, though at the moment no-one knows why."
The zoo is renting Tian Tian and male panda Yang Guang from China for around £600,000 a year, hoping a cub or cubs would bring in more visitors.
Some experts believe money spent on captive breeding would be better used to preserve the habitat of wild pandas.
The zoo is renting Tian Tian and male panda Yang Guang from China for around £600,000 a year, hoping a cub or cubs would bring in more visitors.
Some experts believe money spent on captive breeding would be better used to preserve the habitat of wild pandas.
London Zoo newborn Sumatran tiger cub found dead
T
The cub was the "grandchild" of the last tiger born at the zoo
London Zoo's newborn Sumatran tiger cub has drowned, the zoo has confirmed.
Five-year-old Sumatran tiger Melati gave birth to the cub on 22 September after a six-minute labour. The cub was the first tiger to be born at the zoo for 17 years.
On Saturday, zookeepers could not see the cub on the den cameras and its body was later discovered on the edge of a pool inside the enclosure.
A post-mortem test conducted on Sunday confirmed the cub had drowned.
“To go from the excitement of the birth to this in three weeks is just devastating” says Malcolm FitzpatrickLondon Zoo
It is thought that Melati carried the cub outside the den, but keepers are unclear as to how the cub got into the pool as there are no cameras in the wider enclosure.
The cub was born six months after the opening of the "tiger territory", designed to encourage the endangered sub-species of tiger to breed.
Melati's pregnancy lasted 105 days and was kept secret by zookeepers, who maintained a careful watch on the first-time mother through hidden cameras so they would not disturb her.
The cub - which had not yet been named or sexed as it was so young - was the "grandchild" of the zoo's last tiger cub, Hari, the father of Melati.
London Zoo's Malcolm Fitzpatrick said: "We're heartbroken by what's happened.
London Zoo's newborn Sumatran tiger cub has drowned, the zoo has confirmed.
Five-year-old Sumatran tiger Melati gave birth to the cub on 22 September after a six-minute labour. The cub was the first tiger to be born at the zoo for 17 years.
On Saturday, zookeepers could not see the cub on the den cameras and its body was later discovered on the edge of a pool inside the enclosure.
A post-mortem test conducted on Sunday confirmed the cub had drowned.
“To go from the excitement of the birth to this in three weeks is just devastating” says Malcolm FitzpatrickLondon Zoo
It is thought that Melati carried the cub outside the den, but keepers are unclear as to how the cub got into the pool as there are no cameras in the wider enclosure.
The cub was born six months after the opening of the "tiger territory", designed to encourage the endangered sub-species of tiger to breed.
Melati's pregnancy lasted 105 days and was kept secret by zookeepers, who maintained a careful watch on the first-time mother through hidden cameras so they would not disturb her.
The cub - which had not yet been named or sexed as it was so young - was the "grandchild" of the zoo's last tiger cub, Hari, the father of Melati.
London Zoo's Malcolm Fitzpatrick said: "We're heartbroken by what's happened.
The cub was the first tiger born at London Zoo in 17 years
He added: "Melati can be a very nervous animal and we didn't want to risk putting her on edge by changing her surroundings or routines, in case she abandoned or attacked the cub.
"At the time we thought it was in the best interests of Melati and her cub to allow her continued access to the full enclosure as normal.
"We would do anything to turn back the clock and nobody could be more upset about what's happened than the keepers who work with the tigers every day.
"They are devoted to those tigers and are distraught."
He added: "Melati can be a very nervous animal and we didn't want to risk putting her on edge by changing her surroundings or routines, in case she abandoned or attacked the cub.
"At the time we thought it was in the best interests of Melati and her cub to allow her continued access to the full enclosure as normal.
"We would do anything to turn back the clock and nobody could be more upset about what's happened than the keepers who work with the tigers every day.
"They are devoted to those tigers and are distraught."
All text and images from the BBC news website
Monday, 14 October 2013
It's never too early to ski
Oh I'm falling behind with everything Bloggy again...I suspect as I have seen with many other's I'm going through a lean writing patch.
I suspect that 2013 will yet turn into a particularly difficult year....but probably nothing more than other empty-nesters face every year. The routine has been broken, and everything seems quite strange and uncertain.
We saw two films last week, both with a miserable story. Both are highly rated by the critics. How interesting for us then that one left us feeling as though we'd had an excellent evening out, whilst the other just left us depressed. First the good. Woody Allen's Blue Jasmine..the story of an American socialite's fall from grace as her husband's fraudulent business collapses under judicial scrutiny. Cate Blanchette is superb, and actually so is the rest of the cast. A beautifully told tale brilliant directed by Mr Allen. I don't usually enjoy his work, so it must be good. The Cat's Mother and I couldn't quite agree what film to see on Saturday, so we settled on Le Weekend, somewhat different from my preferred choice of Filth. Anyway, it's about two not very likeable nearly retirees who travel to Paris to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary. THey're bothe miserable, and that was a an infectious feeling. Anyway, the critics love it, we thought it was just a miserable story of not likeable characters who think they deserve more than their lot. I'd have left early but have the need to see these things through to the end. And actually Jeff Goldblum was an interesting, honest character.
In the modern world of social media, we all live in virtual communities. Communities that replace the 'village communities' of yore. I use GiffGaff ...its a mobile provider which uses the network and is owned by O2. There are no shops, no customer service people, just an online community that helps you out when things go wrong. It's a nice idea...especially as it means that the costs are significantly less than any of the other networks. So when something goes wrong, you might expect there would be a community spirit...everyone sympathising, everyone pulling together...a bit of a latter day war spirit. But true to the 'online way, nothing could be less true. The bile and viciousness that typifies any online environment explodes at the slightest provocation. Do you ever read any of the comments sections of the online national press. It's nasty. The same is true here as well. Just recently, GiffGaff has had a few problems...technical issues that have caused the network to go down. And the comments have flowed like diarrhea. Giff Gaff have responded by offering a poison chalice. They've set aside some compensation money, and community members can decide whether they want a good will credit, or whether the money should be used to improve the member experience. If it's a true community, the members should vote for the latter...if it's just a way of getting mobile cheaply, they will vote for the former. On the other side of the fence, you have to ask whether GiffGaff is a true community provider, or just an O2 marketing ploy. I find it fascinating. I have a feeling I know which way it will go....it's all down to human greed isn't it?
I see there's a storm about Jack Wilshere's comments that only English born and bred should play for the English national (football) team. On the surface, it doesn't seem unreasonable...particularly if the same rules are applied around the world - but of course they aren't. So perhaps, he should be happy enough that the rule is extended to anyone who has British citizenship...and perhaps a number of year's residency? But this would exclude players who decide to find their fortunes abroad. It's not that I'm a big football fan so ultimately I don't much care. But I do feel it may be symptomatic of a growing trend that is also seen in business, and elsewhere. It feels that rather than develop our own talent, we have become obsessed with importing it. That feeling was reinforced by some statistics that came out this week which show the UK plummeting down the league table of developed nations for literacy and numeracy. Certainly in the UK, the football industry has failed miserably to develop home-grown-talent. It would be a tragedy if the same became the ingrained approach to general business. On the flip side, I'm feeling more and more that the UK national identity is being diluted (did it ever truly exist?)...if that path was followed around the world, it probably wouldn't be a bad thing and may help reduce the number of conflicts. The UK could simply become a geographic area rather than a nation state....
The Boy and I headed off to the ski slopes on Saturday...no, not a quick jaunt to the continental Alps, just to the indoor snow slope in Hemel Hempstead. It was an interesting experience as we'd not done it before....quite fun, and it was good for a little practice ahead of the winter season.
I suspect that 2013 will yet turn into a particularly difficult year....but probably nothing more than other empty-nesters face every year. The routine has been broken, and everything seems quite strange and uncertain.
We saw two films last week, both with a miserable story. Both are highly rated by the critics. How interesting for us then that one left us feeling as though we'd had an excellent evening out, whilst the other just left us depressed. First the good. Woody Allen's Blue Jasmine..the story of an American socialite's fall from grace as her husband's fraudulent business collapses under judicial scrutiny. Cate Blanchette is superb, and actually so is the rest of the cast. A beautifully told tale brilliant directed by Mr Allen. I don't usually enjoy his work, so it must be good. The Cat's Mother and I couldn't quite agree what film to see on Saturday, so we settled on Le Weekend, somewhat different from my preferred choice of Filth. Anyway, it's about two not very likeable nearly retirees who travel to Paris to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary. THey're bothe miserable, and that was a an infectious feeling. Anyway, the critics love it, we thought it was just a miserable story of not likeable characters who think they deserve more than their lot. I'd have left early but have the need to see these things through to the end. And actually Jeff Goldblum was an interesting, honest character.
In the modern world of social media, we all live in virtual communities. Communities that replace the 'village communities' of yore. I use GiffGaff ...its a mobile provider which uses the network and is owned by O2. There are no shops, no customer service people, just an online community that helps you out when things go wrong. It's a nice idea...especially as it means that the costs are significantly less than any of the other networks. So when something goes wrong, you might expect there would be a community spirit...everyone sympathising, everyone pulling together...a bit of a latter day war spirit. But true to the 'online way, nothing could be less true. The bile and viciousness that typifies any online environment explodes at the slightest provocation. Do you ever read any of the comments sections of the online national press. It's nasty. The same is true here as well. Just recently, GiffGaff has had a few problems...technical issues that have caused the network to go down. And the comments have flowed like diarrhea. Giff Gaff have responded by offering a poison chalice. They've set aside some compensation money, and community members can decide whether they want a good will credit, or whether the money should be used to improve the member experience. If it's a true community, the members should vote for the latter...if it's just a way of getting mobile cheaply, they will vote for the former. On the other side of the fence, you have to ask whether GiffGaff is a true community provider, or just an O2 marketing ploy. I find it fascinating. I have a feeling I know which way it will go....it's all down to human greed isn't it?
I see there's a storm about Jack Wilshere's comments that only English born and bred should play for the English national (football) team. On the surface, it doesn't seem unreasonable...particularly if the same rules are applied around the world - but of course they aren't. So perhaps, he should be happy enough that the rule is extended to anyone who has British citizenship...and perhaps a number of year's residency? But this would exclude players who decide to find their fortunes abroad. It's not that I'm a big football fan so ultimately I don't much care. But I do feel it may be symptomatic of a growing trend that is also seen in business, and elsewhere. It feels that rather than develop our own talent, we have become obsessed with importing it. That feeling was reinforced by some statistics that came out this week which show the UK plummeting down the league table of developed nations for literacy and numeracy. Certainly in the UK, the football industry has failed miserably to develop home-grown-talent. It would be a tragedy if the same became the ingrained approach to general business. On the flip side, I'm feeling more and more that the UK national identity is being diluted (did it ever truly exist?)...if that path was followed around the world, it probably wouldn't be a bad thing and may help reduce the number of conflicts. The UK could simply become a geographic area rather than a nation state....
The Boy and I headed off to the ski slopes on Saturday...no, not a quick jaunt to the continental Alps, just to the indoor snow slope in Hemel Hempstead. It was an interesting experience as we'd not done it before....quite fun, and it was good for a little practice ahead of the winter season.
Thursday, 10 October 2013
Sold down the river
In case you hadn't guessed, here is the film from the last post
The funeral scene from Four Weddings and a Funeral. It's an inspired setting for the film. You can see the church and the industrial works as you cross north to south on the Dartford Crossing....I've always wanted to see it close up.
Anyway, we were lucky enough to steam down the Thames on 'the worlds only sea-going paddle steamer' - the Waverley. They even opened Tower Bridge for us...which even at our great ages was very exciting!
It took five hours to sail from Tower Bridge down to Whitstable, where we ate oysters before returning on the train. A terrific day out highly recommended for everyone, but watch out for the ship spotters...here's a pictorial of the day in no particular order.
The funeral scene from Four Weddings and a Funeral. It's an inspired setting for the film. You can see the church and the industrial works as you cross north to south on the Dartford Crossing....I've always wanted to see it close up.
Anyway, we were lucky enough to steam down the Thames on 'the worlds only sea-going paddle steamer' - the Waverley. They even opened Tower Bridge for us...which even at our great ages was very exciting!
It took five hours to sail from Tower Bridge down to Whitstable, where we ate oysters before returning on the train. A terrific day out highly recommended for everyone, but watch out for the ship spotters...here's a pictorial of the day in no particular order.
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