no longer a nation of map readers

There I am, just getting used to the idea of college grads never having cracked the pages of a novel. I admit I was a lapsed avid reader until very recently when for some reason after about 3 years of barely reading anything, someone suggested I try reading "Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk" and sure enough, it grabbed me and I've been reading novels ever since. I also admit being the origin of the crack of a virgin book spine in 17th C Literature class . I found the class unbearably dull so I barely cracked the book open for the entire semester.

So, I understand these things and am sympathetic towards people who'd rather watch dvds or play video games than read books. Even worse, there I was a college grad with a degree in English Literature , an unapologetic lover of great works of literature and for whatever reason had totally lost interest in reading anything; not even magazines. I did read the paper every morning on-line but that was about it. So, in other words I was sympathetic to the plight of readers lost to the temptation of shiny objects.

During my recent 1 week trip to England, I was driven around by Dave of the NZ branch of my family ( who also happened to be visiting the same week as me) and he referred to the GPS navigational system as a Tom Tom. I had of course heard of this new technology and like I mentioned in a previous post I am used to giving out the postal code where I work so people can plug that information into their GPS so the machine can navigate them to our office. Dave had a Tom Tom in his rental car. He still knew the roads around Southampton quite well because that was where he grew up and where he first learned to drive, AND he's a good boy and visits home more often than me! Tom Tom is , if you didn't know already, the name of the company who invented the GPS. But there were a couple of days, such as a day-trip to see Stonehenge and also a day-trip to his wife's mother's home to a small village close to Oxford where he did use the Tom Tom.

I found the tone of Tom Tom quite reassuring... It was a woman's voice. For most of the trip it sounded something like this, " Exit coming up soon. Take 1st Exit on the roundabout. "

Sure enough, the roundabout comes up, Dave whips through expertly and the Tom Tom is silent again.

Hmmm, I thought to myself. Maybe this is a new technology I can get used to. The GPS system, Tom Tom , Map Reading for Idiots Who Can't Read Maps as my friend Kevin Shute who works in my office insultingly and with derision refers to them. But there have been lots of reports in the media of late telling of GPS guided tours that have gone horribly wrong. Tales of driver's
driving according to the GPS into a pond (oops sorry that was Steve Carell in an episode of the Office). But no there was a real tale of someone who was trying to go down an alternative route offered by the GPS and got stuck in the snow and was stranded for days.

There have been reports of people driving off cliffs as instructed by their Tom Tom . Hmm, must have had lemming qualities. That must have been interesting instructions coming from the GPS:

" Turn right at the next roundabout. Take the next right. I know a better way. Take the next gravel road on the left. Excellent... Now take the next right. It looks like a cliff but it is a secret route to the Magic Roundabout... Have I ever let you down... Please do not hesitate... Well done... Excellent..." Sound of car careening through a safety rail, a few seconds of silence and then the sound of an explosion.

Oh no, this is our new future. If schools stopped music classes because of budgetary restraints you know they aren't going to institute compulsory map reading classes for kids taking driver- education.

There are all kinds of people worried about things like bible prophesies predicting the end of the world, movie's coming out soon preying on our fears of biblical Armageddon, post- nuclear holocaust story- lines, movies about zombie-like creatures taking over the earth; not to mention movies about vampire lesbian's ( ok that one I might go see)...

I personally think our untimely demise will be caused by our own brilliant brand of stupid .

ex-pat returns to uk after 33 years absence

"Its true", I often tell people who ask me! It's been 33 years since I left England. I left in 1976 after spending 6 years of my child-hood in prison. Oops, I mean the Army. And yes I was in the British Army which means , depending on whom you speak with; I was on our side!!!

I'm sure the first thought that pops into people's minds when I tell them how long its been since I have graced the shores of Britain with my presence is, " I wonder who he killed??"

I hate to be bore you but I did not kill anyone and I have no real reason as to why the heck I left visiting my former home for such a long time. I've never had a lot of money but there's been many times when I was flush with enough cash to go for a trip. Especially when I had higher paying sales -type jobs. I did neglect to tell the Army that I was leaving the country , and had I stayed I would have had to have done 3 more years in the reserves . But I solved that problem years ago when after living here in Canada about a year. I received a letter stating I should have told them my intentions to leave the country but I only would have had to serve in the reserves had I remained a resident of the UK. I guess I wrongly assumed that they could have done better without me , seeing as how I was an ex- bandsman during my service to my country!!!

I had an un-eventful flight. I'd flown many times within Canada in my recent past but I was a little rusty in preparing for the trip. I'd forgotten the effort required just doing things such as applying for a passport , putting aside some money and more importantly, how much money would I need. Planning some places I would like to see, especially as I was going in December; not July so there were no beaches in my plans. I have no fear of flying so there were no issues there; although if the flight gets a little bumpy I do have the habit of checking to see whether the crew are making any Hail Mary's or screaming in panic but again, no issues there. So, I arrived after a night flight that lasted about 6 hours. I arrived very tired and sleep deprived but none the worse for wear. I staggered through the obstacle course better known as Heathrow Airport Arrivals. The customs girl quizzed me a little then she said, " Welcome Home!"

Amazingly, the man who was going to be driving me and my girlfriend to my hometown of
Southampton was there as promised, holding up a sign with my surname on it. The weather was about 6 degrees warmer than what I'd just left behind in Halifax so that was a nice surprise.
" Probably like British Columbia." I thought to myself. " So that's why house prices are so expensive in BC. " We whizzed along in a station wagon of some sort and made great time specially as we'd wisely brought luggage as carry-on and saved probably a half hour trying to find our luggage. Some things I noticed on the way were everything seemed lush and green and also, although we're not talking about the plethora of trees in Canada, and , against what someone had told me , there were trees. And it was a sunny day to boot!!

We were going to be staying at my aunt's house and as we drove into her neighborhood I giggled when I saw the rows and rows of tiny brick bungalows. Then her street in the village ( some might say small town) of Hedge End and it was just as I'd left it.

Turn-offs - rude people.

I started this posting as a story on passports but I seem to be coming across so many rude people of late that I decided to do a posting about: Rude people: Where do they get off!! But, when I recently applied for a passport I did not come across any rude people so I cannot incorporate that into my story. Thanks for nothing Passport Canada!!!

Turn-offs... Rude people. I often wonder why people think they have a right to be rude. I had a lady today ask me a very simple question. It was very basic like where is the office and the cost of something. It started out bad, she criticised me for not using complete sentences. I don't think we'd even got as far as where you'd normally start a conversation as the only word I'd used was the word Hello. I wanted to say, "Hmm Generally speaking Ma'am ( I use that term loosely), before we start into full sentences I would start off with something by way of an introduction. In this case I say hello, you say something like hello back to me . Then we're into a full conversation and maybe if we feel up to the challenge, then we can start tossing around complete sentences.

Sometimes people like to be babied and I'm now used to the recent phenomenon of people asking for the postal code so they can set their GPS system in their car so they can be guided to our address. But our conversation turned really silly. It went something like, " How do I find the office once I am inside the mall. By the Bay. There are several entrances which one is it? The front one. Which one is the front one? This last one did raise my hackles , as they say, but I tried to smooth them down. I believe there is a drug store near the front entrance of the building. Also, you cannot walk into the mall without seeing the office.

This lady personifies why I'm taking early retirement in July, 2010 .

more swiftly than asparagus is cooked

How young is too young to baby-sit the father? This of course is one of the burning issues of our times.

On 1 side of the issue are those who believe 11 is the magic number. Then some say, 12 is better. Then there are those who say it depends on how responsible that young person is and that age is not the issue at all. I've had personal experience with this issue. My eldest daughter is now 11 years old. She is very responsible and very capable of looking after her younger sisters, one of whom is aged 9 and the other is soon to be turning 7. They sometimes like to to do kind deeds for me. One day about 3 or 4 months ago they were visiting me ( I am now seperated from my wife ) and decided to make me a pot of tea. So, I showed Julia, my eldest , how to make tea. I said, you fill the kettle with water. Boil the water and then fill the teapot with hot water. Put 2 teabags in the teapot. Stir and allow to brew for 3 or 4 minutes and then it is ready to be poured into the mug. Add 2 sugars and some milk. Stir and serve to your grateful father. I left Julia in charge and I went into my bedroom for a read of my book.

I forgot to mention, I have an electric kettle. Postera crescam laude , we grow in the esteem of future generations. So for those parent's in generations to come, I am relaying this story, bonum commune communitatis.

Luckily, I needed to use the bathroom and when I left my room I could see the stove in the kitchen, with a plastic, electric-kettle on the stove. "Ab irato ," I shouted. I was indeed a trifle irritated by this development. Sure enough; celerius quam asparagi cocuntur, more swiftly than asparagus is cooked, I had a liitle bit of a crisis on my hands.

I ran into the kitchen and saw the plastic kettle sitting on top of the burner and I could see the burner under the kettle burning brightly. Luckily, damnum absque injuria, there was damage but no one was hurt. My kettle melted but it did not catch fire. There was a lot of smoke and I had to open the windows and take them for a walk. It was a long time before that smell was completely vanquished.

I believed at that time it was a matter of, accidents do happen. Errare humanum est, or to err is human but I now think that, on reflection I will let Julia grow up a little. After all: experientia docet, experience teaches. And for those who are not swayed by this story. Ipso Facto, ignorantia juris non excusat, or if you'd prefer the more common phrase: ignorance of the law is no excuse.

waspy tendencies

I used to carry a fear of latent Waspish tendencies creeping up on me in my advancing years, but someone pointed out to me recently that I luckily have nothing to fear. I have no remaining vestiges of Waspishness. I am squeaky clean.

It was not easy though! I can remember the years of denial. The need to wear a suit- and- tie, even if my job was as a Motor Vehicle Mechanic. I've been casually dressed for several years now but it was a long road to recovery.

When I was born in England, my country had already given up on any ambitions of keeping their
Empire but , in many ways, I was trained and brought up to believe we Brits were rulers of the known universe! As if we were smarter somehow than the poor little devils who were born as citizens of the British Commonwealth countries .You can imagine how being brought up in such an environment could have the result of one turning into a very stuffed- shirt...

Imagine ,the agony of being born into the very epicentre of Waspdom. Being at school and learning completely useless things such as how many pounds in a stone , referring to weights and measures for those who don't know what the heck I am talking about; not pounds sterling. And, speaking of the dreaded pound sterling imagine getting a question like this on a math test:

A shopper goes into a grocery store and buys a goose. He pays 1 pound , six shillings and tuppens hal'penny. When he gets home he worries whether he should have bought the 2 smaller ducks , total wt 3 lbs - 14 ozs . If he went back to the store to return the ducks in his car going at 40 miles per hour , the cost of petrol being 12 pounds sterling per imperial gallon, which purchase cost him the most?

If you are still going through your Wasp stage of evolution I have a deep sense of empathy for you. It's a long road. I do not plan on back-tracking, but if I suddenly have an urge to put on a tie, or god help me, put on a suit . I keep a phone number in my wallet of a special friend who has the same addictive waspy traits as me. And he will understand and be of comfort to me. I'm a phone a friend away from being just like any old wasp. Thank you, Prince Charles!!! He's saved my ass on many occasions.

human/ pig flu update

People in a high risk category for getting H1N1; otherwise known as People Pig Flu, should get a vaccination . Especially pregnant women. Unfortunately, there are huge line-ups and some shortages of the swine flu vaccine at this time. In the meantime , it has been advised by the health department that

people who don't want to waste their god-damned precious time on a futile search for the elixir of life known as the swine-flu vaccine, should instead try boosting their own immune system by using some time- tried old standards such as :

• Licking door-handles.
• Licking toilet -seat covers ( Public rest-room even better).
• Licking pig balls ( also works for any animal, including human).
• Licking your own balls ( not suggested for women but licking their partner's balls should also do the trick).

General cleanliness is also advised and good hand washing practices should be applied. Always wash hands after going for a piss, a shit, sleeping with a prostitute, or, sleeping with a John ( or Henry , name not really important).

If your symptoms include:

• Cough
• General feeling of Malaise
• Abdominal pain
• Muscle pain
• Swollen lymph nodes
• Coughing up of blood
• Coughing up of your balls
• Severe headache
• Fever so high, skin is hot to the touch
• the Shits
• Nausea
• Projectile vomiting
• the Chills
• Shortness of breath ( and you are not at a dirty movie theatre)
• Frothy or bloody sputum
• Limbs susceptible to dropping off your body

If you have any or all of these symptoms, do not be coming directly to your nearest flu clinic for a flu shot. You do not have the flu, you have bubonic plague and should not be wasting your local flu clinic's valuable time.

Sex-change -too much government red tape

Come on. Be honest with yourself. Think very hard and truthfully about
this question . Did you ever think that you were a man/ woman / dog/
cat/ dolphin trapped in a man/woman/dog/ dolphin's body? But the
mountain of paper work involved in getting a sex-change was just too
daunting to contemplate. I have! And I know if you're truthful with
yourself, you'd say the same thing.

I can put up with the humiliation of explaining to my Mother that maybe
her being the strong parent didn't work out so good. I can put up with
having my testicles chopped off and my penis turned into a vagina but I
cannot deal with the Government bureaucracy involved in becoming a lady
instead of a lad.

Think about it for a moment. There must be a form for having your
testicles removed. As if re-arranging my testicles as though they were a flower arrangement weren't bad enough !

Then my Birth cert would have to be changed; also requiring the necessary government form ac/127#***4... filled in , in triplicate. Said form would have to be sent to the butcher who did the surgery, the Province or State I am now residing, and to the federal government would need to
know.

Taxes too would be complicated. Hmmm, I wonder whether that operation ,
which wasn't covered by MSI or Government insurance, would be taxable...
Mental note to self, do not forget to get an official receipt...

Nah, I'd rather keep my balls , and forget my transgender issues until I
can afford a good lawyer!

Mind you, it does give the concept of Organ Donor-ship a whole new meaning on your Driver's licence.