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Welcome to the world of the Vincent D'Onofrio obsessed - and a bit of real life thrown in.

Monday, December 31, 2012

School Sport

At school, I was really unsporty. Hockey in the freezing cold was only slightly less of a torture than the cross country running they made us do when it was too cold to play hockey. Purple and orange knees don't suit teenage girls. Netball and athletics in summer were OK if you could run, jump or aim a big ball. Swimming was fine if you could get out of the pool and make it to the toilets before puking up.

So when options became available, I went for it. Ice skating and horseriding were great, but I only made it on to those lists at 15. So I opted for diving. It took place at the National Sports Centre at Crystal Palace:

There was a dedicated diving pool (much warmer than the swimming pool), 10ft deep at the edges, 16ft in the middle.

I was already scared of heights, so I could just about jump from the 5m board, but couldn't dive from it. I limited myself to the 1m and 3m springboards. Pikes, backward and inward dives were as advanced as I got.

We had a tutor for these classes, whose name was George Rackham. We came to realise he was actually an Olympic diving coach. As a warm-up he had us shoot ourselves feet-first down to the bottom of the pool. We would have to lie first on one side, then on the other, and do pedalling motions that made us turn round like wheels in the water.

If there were due to be televised diving competitions later in the day, we helped them set up the cameras by diving down past the round underwater windows where the film crews were.

So if anyone catches me watching Tom Daley's new TV programme about diving that starts next week, it's purely to appreciate the diving, not his muscular young body.

(How the hell does he keep those swimming trunks up when he hits the water? I broke my bikini straps once diving in.)

I looked up George online the other day, and found that he wrote some books on diving that are still available.

What surprised me, however, was that he had also introduced another water sport to the UK:

I suppose our wheelie swimming was an elementary form of synchronised swimming. Never occurred to me till now.

George will be long gone now, but I remember him fondly, and I imagine everyone who had dealings with him will feel the same.

Cadaver - Day 2

How does a grown man in a responsible job manage to look like a naughty boy so often?

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Cadaver - Day 1

I think you'll have to move that seat back, long legs.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Trophy Wine - Day 12

Wonder what he's thinking now the crime-solving's done?

Friday, December 28, 2012

Memories of Childhood

I can't imagine any of us grew up without watching at least one of Gerry Anderson's puppet shows - Captain Scarlet, Joe 90, to name but two.

But one of his shows is never mentioned, barely remembered, but a great favourite of mine. Meet Twizzle, the boy with the magic ratchety arms and legs:

He could miraculously stretch his legs and arms to reach things that started out beyond his little boy's reach, and I loved him. Farewell Gerry Anderson, you did us all proud.

Trophy Wine - Day 11

Don't bother lying to Bobby, he has your number. (If you have mine, darling, call it any time...)

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Naughty, Naughty

I was just watching an episode of L&O LA, and at the start when they usually announce "adult themes" and such like, they said, "The following programme contains mild language".

What, like "goodness gracious"?

The only word in the whole programme that could qualify was "spic". Unpleasant and racist. And bleepable, like many other words they bleep and make nonsense of the dialogue.

But "mild language"? Every other word in the episode was mild. Unlike this comment:

What the fuck?

Trophy Wine - Day 10

Just look at that jaw. So strong and masculine.

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Trophy Wine - Day 9

How can she sit like a stone next to himself?

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Happy Christmas Everyone!

To all the dear friends to whom I tried so hard to send a Smilebox card, only to find the whole thing fell at the last fence,

Happy V-Christmas and many more of them


Trophy Wine - Day 8

Bobby applauds a terrible rendition of Juliet.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Forgotten Claim to Fame

Last week, a veteran British newscaster - one of BBC TV's first - died. And no matter where I looked in the obituaries, I couldn't find his (apparently uncredited) appearance in Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Am I the only person who remembers?

Trophy Wine - Day 7

Invasion of the Size 13s.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Trophy Wine - Day 6

Bobby enjoys the "nose". And we so often enjoy his.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Friday, December 21, 2012

Trophy Wine - Day 4

Sorry, mind's gone blank, can't think of a single comment.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Trophy Wine - Day 3

Aha! The Size 13s make their appearance.

 I'm pretty sure either Vincent or the writers knew the heart-fluttering this scene would be for the Vixens.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Tragic Loss

About an hour ago I heard from Alex's mum that he died last night. After successfully fighting everything that could be thrown at him, he succombed to that fucking bastard norovirus.

Alex believed in a deity, and I hope for his sake that a kind god was waiting for him.

Alex Hunt, 12-5-93 to 19-12-12
Rest in peace, sweet boy

Trophy Wine - Day 2

I suppose he could get more handsome. Don't know how, though.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Trophy Wine - Day 1

Shoot me, Diane - but I think the psych session was the best part of this one - apart from the Size 13 sequence.

This is quite a pleasing shot, though.

Monday, December 17, 2012

One tragedy of many

I'm sure none of us thinks the gun lobby will really let there be any change in the gun laws in the US. After all, why shouldn't everyone have the right to own assault rifles and automatic weapons?

I must say that I don't agree with those who say this is the single most important thing for Obama to achieve in this period in office. What is the point is saving lives that will ultimately be lost to the earth being ravaged by global warming, something no politicians anywhere seem to want to deal with as the matter of urgency anyone can see whose only axe to grind is the future of the planet, rather than growth, consumption and making money.

What will be the point of all their money when there's no planet to spend it in? Even the children of the rich will be condemned to suffer with every other creature on the planet, and their parents will be sure to make it all happen sooner because of their self-seeking attempts to deny any of it is really happening.

Happy Christmas...

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 11

Sorry, ran out of posts without realising.

Thought I'd finish up this episode with Bobby with a shock of pink hair.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Last Street in Manhattan - Day 10

Forget Eames' dad, look at Bobby's pose!

Friday, December 14, 2012

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 9

Now Bobby looks angry. He needs a cuddle even more.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 7

Bobby agonises in his own inimitable way.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 6

Bobby's looking a bit stern with Eames. What's the naughty girl done?

Monday, December 10, 2012

Mini Monster

Today I finally saw the new female tiger at London Zoo today. She's adorable - and really tiny!

Best thing about her was the look she gave to the hordes of child visitors. I felt the same way, Melati!

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 5

Don't you just love seeing those arms straining against the jacket sleeves?

Sunday, December 09, 2012

Last Street In Manhattan- Day 4

So distinguished in his white shirt and tie.

So distinguished without them...

Saturday, December 08, 2012

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 3

Bobby is auditioning for Mr Handsome Hunk 2011, 2012 and every year from now to eternity.

Friday, December 07, 2012

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 2

Mmmm. Not stunt claw but could be a stunt hand. The nails are a bit clipped, the thumb may not be curved enough, but the wrist looks right.

What does everyone else think?

Thursday, December 06, 2012


The gas man was late this morning, shortly before 8am, because of bad traffic. I thought no more about it till I was on my way out of the house just after 11am to drive to the pet store to stock up on heavy supplies. He told me there was an accident down on the main road, and the traffic was backed up. So I drove the other way along the street, only to meet with a row of cars that had got stck after using my road as a "short cut". I turned round and went back home.

By 1.30 I was sure it must be all cleared up, and left the hosue again, only to witness car after car whizz past me, obviously still trying to find a way out of the jam. I went back in. Luckily I am not in dire need of these supplies. But it feels really horrible to be imprisoned in your street for such a long time.

I hate to think how bad things must have been for the poor souls involved in the accident.

Last Street In Manhattan - Day 1

Bobby doesn't look down on anyone - unless they are dead.

Wednesday, December 05, 2012


...can a cat eat a whole dish of food with a pill hidden in the middle and finish every morsel except the pill?

Boots On The Ground - Day 20

Another twofer.

First we see some tongue:

Then we get treated to some hand action:

Tuesday, December 04, 2012

Boots On The Ground - Day 19

Bobby contemplates how to pass the shrink sessions.

Monday, December 03, 2012

Sunday, December 02, 2012

Boots On The Ground - Day 17

These people are really annoying our Bobby.

If I annoy you, will you punish me?

Saturday, December 01, 2012

Boots On The Ground - Day 16

Feigned surprise. Just waiting for the eyebrow wiggle.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Lifeboat Ahoy!

When I was a child, we had yearly visits at primary school from the River Police. They had a flipchart of colour pictures showing the dangers of the River Thames - the dangerous muck you could cut yourself on and get blood poisoning, the current and the tides. A girl at my secondary school had a father in the River Police, and we were all shocked when he died in an accident while on duty.

I'm not sure exactly when they lost their rescue function, to revert to being a plain old police force, but in 1989 when the dredger Bowbelle hit a party boat, the Marchioness, capsizing it, with the loss of 51 young lives, it was not in a position to do much to help.

In the aftermath, there must have been some decision (though I can't remember it receiving much publicity) to employ the lifeboat service to supply search and rescue on the Thames.

The RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Insitiution) is best known for its rescue work around the coast of Great Britain and Ireland. Its Severn class lifeboats cost £2.7 million, all raised by public subscription, all manned by volunteers. They can go up to 50 miles out to sea.

They can also handle the roughest of seas, and can capsize completely, then right themselves in less than ten seconds.

During our recent floods, however, the RNLI has been helping to rescue stranded people in flooded areas.

And today they were at school telling the kids about their service (and of course letting them try on jackets, lifebelts and helmets!)

Don't we do fun stuff?

Boots On The Ground - Day 15

Two for one. Bobby doesn't know whether to look at the blonde's face...

...or her boobs:

Thursday, November 29, 2012


A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that the government was planning to close Accident and Emergency and Maternity at my local hospital. It's getting really hard to get anyone outside the local community to sit up and take notice. A march last Saturday was briefly reported as having as few as 2,000 people taking part, whereas best estimates are between 10,000 and 15,000. The news coverage was minimal. It was raining, so the cameras didn't stay beyond the first few minutes, and didn't show the rally at the end or the "hands round the hospital".

Last night there was another public meeting in the local theatre.

It's clear that the stated aim of "reorganising local services to improve them" is a complete crock. The only plans are those which allow for these closures and the sale of two thirds of the hospital's land to developers. There is an assumption that there will be a fall in the number of people needing these services, though all the evidence is to the contrary. To get to the alternative hospitals, there being no decent public transport and relatively little (and rather expensive) parking, more people will need to call for an ambulance. There is no mention of the effects of the increase in these calls on the mortality rate of people such as heart attack victims. If the ambulance is dealing with another, less critical (but still very serious) case, it will be delayed. People will die. But hey, they won't be Conservative Party voters, so what the heck?

The person who produced the report didn't ask local people about how they would get to the alternative hospitals. They suggested we look on the Transport For London website. Yes, that's the first thing you do when you need to get to hospital urgently. They also consulted Deloitte's, a tax and corporate services company, to come up with travel times for an appendix to the report. Again, these geniuses didn't consult with the people who might be able to give them an accurate answer. They used online information, and came up with timings for conditions of "no traffic". THIS IS LONDON! Such conditions will only apply at about 2am, when there are no buses anyway. Multiply the time by three or four for most of the day.

Sadly, I think the government will nod this through no matter what we do. The only possible hope is that it is supposed to be put into practice over three years, by which time there will have been a general election, and with luck this bunch will have been kicked out and the next lot might listen to reason and stop it in its tracks.

Don't hold your breath there either.

Anyone who wants to see if they can sign the online petition please follow the links on

Boots On The Gound - Day 14

Did I surprise you, sweetheart, when I appeared naked in front of you like that?

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