Friday, August 24, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
The Moors Murderers - Pure Evil
Back in the mid 1960s Britain was shaken by the discovery that a pair called Ian Brady and Myra Hindley had tortured and murdered three children. Their victims were buried on Saddleworth Moor, near Manchester.
Ultimately it became clear that they had five victims, but the body of one, Keith Bennett, has never been recovered. Hindley died in prison in 2000, and Brady is in a mental hospital because he wants to starve himself to death, so he has to be force fed daily (hope it really hurts). Winnie Johnson, the mother of Keith Bennett, repeatedly asked Brady to tell her where her son's body was, so that she could bury him properly. He has never given her any hope.
Then a regular prison visitor, when being interviewed by a TV crew, dropped the bombshell that he had given her a sealed letter, which she thought contained the whereabouts of Keith Bennett's remains. It was to be given to Keith's mother after Brady died, to give her some relief.
It took the TV company 10 days to tell the police. It took the police 2 weeks to do anything about it. Meanwhile Winnie Johnson was in a hospice with terminal cancer, and had slipped into a coma. She died on Friday after 48 years of torment, without realising her wish of burying her son.
Brady knew she was ill. He knew the authorities wouldn't let him return to prison to starve himself to death. He just wanted to torment this poor woman to keep her in his power, to make her a further victim of his evil.
The police have searched unsuccessfully for the letter.
I hope Brady gets a really nasty but slow terminal illness, that they give him no relief, and that he dies in agony after months or years of suffering. The man is evil incarnate.
Ultimately it became clear that they had five victims, but the body of one, Keith Bennett, has never been recovered. Hindley died in prison in 2000, and Brady is in a mental hospital because he wants to starve himself to death, so he has to be force fed daily (hope it really hurts). Winnie Johnson, the mother of Keith Bennett, repeatedly asked Brady to tell her where her son's body was, so that she could bury him properly. He has never given her any hope.
Then a regular prison visitor, when being interviewed by a TV crew, dropped the bombshell that he had given her a sealed letter, which she thought contained the whereabouts of Keith Bennett's remains. It was to be given to Keith's mother after Brady died, to give her some relief.
It took the TV company 10 days to tell the police. It took the police 2 weeks to do anything about it. Meanwhile Winnie Johnson was in a hospice with terminal cancer, and had slipped into a coma. She died on Friday after 48 years of torment, without realising her wish of burying her son.
Brady knew she was ill. He knew the authorities wouldn't let him return to prison to starve himself to death. He just wanted to torment this poor woman to keep her in his power, to make her a further victim of his evil.
The police have searched unsuccessfully for the letter.
I hope Brady gets a really nasty but slow terminal illness, that they give him no relief, and that he dies in agony after months or years of suffering. The man is evil incarnate.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
One Determined Lady
Lady? Well, perhaps not!
Scottish wild cat keeper Neville told us yesterday about his Bengal cat.
Bengal cats are a relatively new breed, and they are incredibly beautiful:
Neville acquired his from the daughter of the original owner of the two animal parks, millionaire casino owner John Aspinall. He and his wife looked after the cat soon after she was bought while her owner went on holiday. His wife became attached, so when Ms Aspinall was concerned at her behaviour in her place in London, she asked them to adopt the creature so she could go outside.
Of course, in reality, she was just coming into season. She disappeared for seven days, and came back with a large black tomcat in tow, pregnant.She had 3 kittens.
The vet advised they get her spayed as soon as she stopped lactating, but as soon as the kittens were eight weeks old she disappeared again, and the cycle repeated itself. This time she had 7 babies.
They decided to keep her in an enclosure in the garden, but once she realised what they had in mind she went missing ahead of her season.
By the time they managed to get her "fixed" she had given birth to 27 kittens. One determined little kittie!
As the family also keeps Maine Coons, I'm not sure if it was one of them, or one of the Bengal's kittens, who was so big he had to have a dog collar, as a cat one big enough could not be found.
Scottish wild cat keeper Neville told us yesterday about his Bengal cat.
Bengal cats are a relatively new breed, and they are incredibly beautiful:
Neville acquired his from the daughter of the original owner of the two animal parks, millionaire casino owner John Aspinall. He and his wife looked after the cat soon after she was bought while her owner went on holiday. His wife became attached, so when Ms Aspinall was concerned at her behaviour in her place in London, she asked them to adopt the creature so she could go outside.
Of course, in reality, she was just coming into season. She disappeared for seven days, and came back with a large black tomcat in tow, pregnant.She had 3 kittens.
The vet advised they get her spayed as soon as she stopped lactating, but as soon as the kittens were eight weeks old she disappeared again, and the cycle repeated itself. This time she had 7 babies.
They decided to keep her in an enclosure in the garden, but once she realised what they had in mind she went missing ahead of her season.
By the time they managed to get her "fixed" she had given birth to 27 kittens. One determined little kittie!
As the family also keeps Maine Coons, I'm not sure if it was one of them, or one of the Bengal's kittens, who was so big he had to have a dog collar, as a cat one big enough could not be found.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
One of those special days
I took my friend to Port Lympne Wild Animal Park today. we saw some wonderful things.
There was the dusky langur with her ginger baby:
I'd never seen bush dogs before. They made a sweet little high-pitched noise, but I'll spare you the horror story of how they co-operate to hunt prey:
The male Siberian tiger has huge paws, but instead of using them to walk on, he sticks to lying by the fence and using them as a pillow:
He managed to stir enough to give us a glimpse of his big face:
One female was displaying her amazing stripes:
The other did some rolling over and tummy-baring, then eventually showed us her lovely face:
We'd especially wanted to see the Scottish wild cats, but they didn't appear on the site map. A member of staff told us that the new park set-up meant they were off display, but she arranged for the keeper to meet up with us to go and see them. A couple of years ago the same man had taken me around the park to make up for the fact that I had missed the cats on a visit because they were not signposted, and my friends and I could not find them. He's lovely - the stories he told us were funny, amazing, I could regale you with them forever. But instead, let's see the female wild cat, Skye:
She's like a super-beautiful pussy cat. Her would-be mate, Sid, has a real wild cat look. He was in one of the overhead walkways that were built for them:
He did relax a bit after a while and let his ears return to closer to their normal position:
These pictures were taken inside the outer enclosure.
Sadly Sid is minus a toe. They moved in another female for a while to mate with him (he and skye have yet to produce young) and when she left and they were reunited, Skye bit his toe and broke it, so it had to be amputated!
We failed to see the newly arrived fossa because the keeper, Neville, couldn't persuade him out. They are odd-looking creatures, I would love to have seen one:
We also missed the new Lynx cubs. we couldn't go back to the area of the park where these two species were kept, because it is a huge and hilly site and we were exhausted. There are safari trucks and trailers which will take you to the bottom of the site, but the harder task of getting back up the huge hills, at the end of a tiring day, is left to visitors' feet. Makes no sense to me.
Anyway, here are some other lynx cubs from the internet, so as not to disappoint you:
I'd never seen bush dogs before. They made a sweet little high-pitched noise, but I'll spare you the horror story of how they co-operate to hunt prey:
The male Siberian tiger has huge paws, but instead of using them to walk on, he sticks to lying by the fence and using them as a pillow:
He managed to stir enough to give us a glimpse of his big face:
One female was displaying her amazing stripes:
The other did some rolling over and tummy-baring, then eventually showed us her lovely face:
We'd especially wanted to see the Scottish wild cats, but they didn't appear on the site map. A member of staff told us that the new park set-up meant they were off display, but she arranged for the keeper to meet up with us to go and see them. A couple of years ago the same man had taken me around the park to make up for the fact that I had missed the cats on a visit because they were not signposted, and my friends and I could not find them. He's lovely - the stories he told us were funny, amazing, I could regale you with them forever. But instead, let's see the female wild cat, Skye:
She's like a super-beautiful pussy cat. Her would-be mate, Sid, has a real wild cat look. He was in one of the overhead walkways that were built for them:
He did relax a bit after a while and let his ears return to closer to their normal position:
These pictures were taken inside the outer enclosure.
Sadly Sid is minus a toe. They moved in another female for a while to mate with him (he and skye have yet to produce young) and when she left and they were reunited, Skye bit his toe and broke it, so it had to be amputated!
We failed to see the newly arrived fossa because the keeper, Neville, couldn't persuade him out. They are odd-looking creatures, I would love to have seen one:
We also missed the new Lynx cubs. we couldn't go back to the area of the park where these two species were kept, because it is a huge and hilly site and we were exhausted. There are safari trucks and trailers which will take you to the bottom of the site, but the harder task of getting back up the huge hills, at the end of a tiring day, is left to visitors' feet. Makes no sense to me.
Anyway, here are some other lynx cubs from the internet, so as not to disappoint you:
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
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Monday, August 13, 2012
Family Values - Day 12
Thinking about what tactic to try next. Women are much easier to work out, Bobby, at least for hotties like you.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Family Values - Day 11
Having got to the end of the scheduled posts for this episode because the rest of the pictures had apparently disappeared from the album, I checked back and found they had reappeared!
Onwards and upwards.
Bobby's face shows so many emotions here: concern; worry he won't find the girl in time; shock at the horror of this man. Any more emotions you can identify in this apparently simple expression?
Onwards and upwards.
Bobby's face shows so many emotions here: concern; worry he won't find the girl in time; shock at the horror of this man. Any more emotions you can identify in this apparently simple expression?
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Plus ça change…
I found a bunch of old poems today. I have no idea how long ago I wrote them. The paper is yellowing, and other items with them date to the 1970s.
It's quite shocking to see how apposite they remain.
This one appears to be about the attitude of the haves to the have nots. It puts me a bit in mind of the summer riots of last year. Of course, in the late 1970s and early 1980s there were several instances of civil unrest in Britain. The Secondary Modern kids referred to were kids who'd failed an exam aged 11 and only got into the second best schools, while those who passed went to selective schools..
It's quite shocking to see how apposite they remain.
This one appears to be about the attitude of the haves to the have nots. It puts me a bit in mind of the summer riots of last year. Of course, in the late 1970s and early 1980s there were several instances of civil unrest in Britain. The Secondary Modern kids referred to were kids who'd failed an exam aged 11 and only got into the second best schools, while those who passed went to selective schools..
Fairmindedness
Well, there was this jolly decent chap, you see, George his name was,
and he said, well, he said, these Secondary Modern School kids,
They don't know what good for them,
I mean,
We're good enough to let them in on our way of life,
and what do they do?
They smash windows and steal, and do everything they can to break the rules and hurt us.
Some little perisher stole my comb the other day,
I ask you, stole my comb!
I think they should be caned every day, as a matter of course,
Bloody delinquents.
So I said, well George, old boy, I think you're far too easy on 'em.
I'd have the whole bloody lot put in a cage,
and only let them out whe it was time for them to do some honest work.
Family Values - Day 10
Bobby's rather angry that there are supposed to be over 400 pictures in this album, but because only a couple of hundred show up, I can't post any more for this episode.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
This, That and The Other
This is The Pagoda, a house in Blackheath, not a million miles from the equestrian Olympics. Now my feet are feeling good for the first time in a couple of years, thanks to some steroid injections, I decided to go to the doctor's via Blackheath, passing The Pagoda on the way.
They're building some modern monstrosity next door. It might even be in what used to be the generous garden, which has been used in TV programmes in the past.
That's what my hand looks like with the stitches gone. Another scar, just what I wanted.
The other thing of note is the state of my tomatoes. They were bigger than this when I planted them out about 3 months ago. Then the temperature dipped and the rain fell non-stop for two months. The six or so fruit that are just about developing (not even sure if you'll manage to spot them) set before the weather turned, and are still mostly minuscule.
No, climate change is no threat to our food supply, then...
That's what my hand looks like with the stitches gone. Another scar, just what I wanted.
The other thing of note is the state of my tomatoes. They were bigger than this when I planted them out about 3 months ago. Then the temperature dipped and the rain fell non-stop for two months. The six or so fruit that are just about developing (not even sure if you'll manage to spot them) set before the weather turned, and are still mostly minuscule.
No, climate change is no threat to our food supply, then...
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Monday, August 06, 2012
Double Jointed and the Opposite
Would it surprise you to find these are basically the same thing? It does me.
Hypermobility is the name.
When I attended the pain clinic while awaiting my hip replacement, I was still able to, no, not touch my toes, but actually lay my hands flat on the floor beside my feet - even when wearing four inch heels.
The doctor siad this could contribute to my joint problems, because it meant the ligaments and tendons were not supporting the joints well.
I suppose it's related to my former ability to wiggle my toes independently almost enough to use them for writing.
While trying to find some shoes today that can have a raise put in the left one to accommodate my uneven legs, and custom-made orthotic inserts to help my achy feet, I got chatting to the sales assistant. She is awaiting joint replacement surgery for osteo-arthritis in her hands. Apparently she and her children have been diagnosed with hypermobility, a genetic condition.
So the thing that makes people double-jointed also causes arthritis, and stiff joints as well as super-flexible ones. Work that one out.
Oh, and just for good measure, it can cause bladder problems. And I am ALWAYS wanting to pee.
I've never been told about this condition, but it's pretty obvious even to me that I have it. This woman was only diagnosed because her son's condition was so serious the whole family was entered for a study. Why aren't doctors joining up the dots?
Hypermobility is the name.
When I attended the pain clinic while awaiting my hip replacement, I was still able to, no, not touch my toes, but actually lay my hands flat on the floor beside my feet - even when wearing four inch heels.
(Yes I could once do this, with ease)
The doctor siad this could contribute to my joint problems, because it meant the ligaments and tendons were not supporting the joints well.
I suppose it's related to my former ability to wiggle my toes independently almost enough to use them for writing.
While trying to find some shoes today that can have a raise put in the left one to accommodate my uneven legs, and custom-made orthotic inserts to help my achy feet, I got chatting to the sales assistant. She is awaiting joint replacement surgery for osteo-arthritis in her hands. Apparently she and her children have been diagnosed with hypermobility, a genetic condition.
So the thing that makes people double-jointed also causes arthritis, and stiff joints as well as super-flexible ones. Work that one out.
Oh, and just for good measure, it can cause bladder problems. And I am ALWAYS wanting to pee.
I've never been told about this condition, but it's pretty obvious even to me that I have it. This woman was only diagnosed because her son's condition was so serious the whole family was entered for a study. Why aren't doctors joining up the dots?
Family Values - Day 6
Love that funky beard, Bobby. How did you get that growing out of your chin?
That neck though...
Sunday, August 05, 2012
Saturday, August 04, 2012
The Honourable Vixen
Most of you will already know about Portia Da Costa, "Our Wendy" in normal life, who is a writer of erotic fiction. She hails from Yorkshire:
What I don't know is if the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon has hit the rest of the world. Just in case it hasn't, some bird has written an erotic novel (well, a 3-volume opus, really) that is being read by everyone everywhere. Not me, actually. I've heard it's badly written. Anyway, I have lots of stuff waiting to be read. But thanks to the 50 Shades phenomenon her publisher, Black Lace Books, is reissuing some titles, their principal offering being one of Wendy's:
It's the book of the week in some branches of the retailer WHSmith. Wendy/Portia came to the attention of the Vixens with her book "Entertaining Mr Stone", whose male lead character is based on Bobby Goren:
She then included him in a minor role in "Suite Seventeen", where the male character is one Valentino, who closely resembles Vincent's character in "The Velocity of Gary":
Wendy's books have the advantage over the 50 Shades books that they are well written. And both are still available on Amazon UK and US, as is In Too Deep - though to get the new soft-touch cover I think you will have to shop around.
In a brief post script, I'm glad to tell you that Wendy has just told me Our Man also appears in "In Too Deep". So that's a must-have, Vixens.
Sweet Dreams...
What I don't know is if the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon has hit the rest of the world. Just in case it hasn't, some bird has written an erotic novel (well, a 3-volume opus, really) that is being read by everyone everywhere. Not me, actually. I've heard it's badly written. Anyway, I have lots of stuff waiting to be read. But thanks to the 50 Shades phenomenon her publisher, Black Lace Books, is reissuing some titles, their principal offering being one of Wendy's:
It's the book of the week in some branches of the retailer WHSmith. Wendy/Portia came to the attention of the Vixens with her book "Entertaining Mr Stone", whose male lead character is based on Bobby Goren:
She then included him in a minor role in "Suite Seventeen", where the male character is one Valentino, who closely resembles Vincent's character in "The Velocity of Gary":
Wendy's books have the advantage over the 50 Shades books that they are well written. And both are still available on Amazon UK and US, as is In Too Deep - though to get the new soft-touch cover I think you will have to shop around.
In a brief post script, I'm glad to tell you that Wendy has just told me Our Man also appears in "In Too Deep". So that's a must-have, Vixens.
Sweet Dreams...
Check this out
Today, when I popped into the chemist's for some bits and pieces, the pharmacist offered me a free health check. He's just been on a course and was obviously eager to try out what he'd learnt.
I know what he thought. He'd be giving me lots of warnings and guidance. After all, I'm considerably overweight, I'm 59 and I don't exercise.
I was pretty sure he'd get a couple of surprises. And he did.
For example, my blood pressure used to be 90/60, the level at which in hospital dramas people start to peg out. But it has risen in recent years. I was quite anxious before my operation the other week, and it had gone up to 140+ over something-or-other.
Tha pharmacist's eyes nearly popped out of his head when my latest measurement was just 119/88. Apparently his is worse than mine.
Then there was the cholesterol. I knew it was low the last time it was done, some years ago, but he was amazed at the current levels: 3.62, of which the ratio of "good" cholesterols is 2.59. Apparently that's pretty low. Again, better than his.
Yes, my BMI is high (35.7) and I'm pretty inactive. Lots of aching joints will do that to you. He wants me to go for a diabetes test. Last time I had one of those, it was pretty good. Still, I'll indulge him. If I'm not going to have a fit old age, I might as well have a healthy one!
I know what he thought. He'd be giving me lots of warnings and guidance. After all, I'm considerably overweight, I'm 59 and I don't exercise.
I was pretty sure he'd get a couple of surprises. And he did.
For example, my blood pressure used to be 90/60, the level at which in hospital dramas people start to peg out. But it has risen in recent years. I was quite anxious before my operation the other week, and it had gone up to 140+ over something-or-other.
Tha pharmacist's eyes nearly popped out of his head when my latest measurement was just 119/88. Apparently his is worse than mine.
Then there was the cholesterol. I knew it was low the last time it was done, some years ago, but he was amazed at the current levels: 3.62, of which the ratio of "good" cholesterols is 2.59. Apparently that's pretty low. Again, better than his.
Yes, my BMI is high (35.7) and I'm pretty inactive. Lots of aching joints will do that to you. He wants me to go for a diabetes test. Last time I had one of those, it was pretty good. Still, I'll indulge him. If I'm not going to have a fit old age, I might as well have a healthy one!
Friday, August 03, 2012
Night and Day
Last night, when I put out the rubbish, I noticed some interesting cloud formations. To the north there were lots of little bubbles of cloud which sadly didn't come out clearly as, surprise surprise, it was rather dark...
To the south east was the moon which illuminated some rather lovely horizontal cloud formations:
This afternoon, sitting in the garden, I suddenly became aware that the birds sitting in the bushes in a neighbour's garden were making quite a din. When I remember Rachel Carson's The Silent Spring, I feel thrilled that there is still so much birdsong, even in overcrowded suburban London. I rushed in to get my camera. As soon as I started filming, my neighbour started to do what sounded like scraping some paving slabs with a spade. Then there was a plane going over, then police sirens, then an ice cream van's chimes! So much for my peaceful garden with birdsong. Here's the best I managed. It doesn't sound as loud as it did "live" but I hope it gives you some idea of the joyous birdie music:
To the south east was the moon which illuminated some rather lovely horizontal cloud formations:
This afternoon, sitting in the garden, I suddenly became aware that the birds sitting in the bushes in a neighbour's garden were making quite a din. When I remember Rachel Carson's The Silent Spring, I feel thrilled that there is still so much birdsong, even in overcrowded suburban London. I rushed in to get my camera. As soon as I started filming, my neighbour started to do what sounded like scraping some paving slabs with a spade. Then there was a plane going over, then police sirens, then an ice cream van's chimes! So much for my peaceful garden with birdsong. Here's the best I managed. It doesn't sound as loud as it did "live" but I hope it gives you some idea of the joyous birdie music:
Thursday, August 02, 2012
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Three Down One To Go
So, as the left hand and its carpal tunnel scar gradually recover from their trauma, on Friday I had steroid injections in my aching feet. Hobbling home across the park I reflected on the fact that only my right hand remains intact (though eventually that will be interfered with too).
Sadly, though I have the complexion of a 20-year-old (actually, I currently have a spot on my nose which makes it more like a teenager's) I appear to have the skeleton of a near-corpse. If I ever manage to reach retirement age before they raise it to the day after death, not for me the gentle strolls in the coutryside, or indeed anything else that requires my extremities to actually work without agony. The feet I quite liked the look of, and prided myself on, for much of my life haven't repaid my care. I give them the best treatment with rich creams, and all they do for me is have toes that are too supple and therefore get arthritis, arches that are too high and need support, and shoe requirements that are completely impossible to meet - especially when they need to be adapted for odd-length legs.
If I kill myself tomorrow, maybe they'll let me retire on Tuesday.
Sadly, though I have the complexion of a 20-year-old (actually, I currently have a spot on my nose which makes it more like a teenager's) I appear to have the skeleton of a near-corpse. If I ever manage to reach retirement age before they raise it to the day after death, not for me the gentle strolls in the coutryside, or indeed anything else that requires my extremities to actually work without agony. The feet I quite liked the look of, and prided myself on, for much of my life haven't repaid my care. I give them the best treatment with rich creams, and all they do for me is have toes that are too supple and therefore get arthritis, arches that are too high and need support, and shoe requirements that are completely impossible to meet - especially when they need to be adapted for odd-length legs.
If I kill myself tomorrow, maybe they'll let me retire on Tuesday.
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