Flops' Friday mini blog

floppybootstomp

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Totally relevant memo of the day: 'Do not buy wooden clothes pegs from the Pound Shop cos they is crap and fall apart. They is also considerably smaller than your regular Sainsburys/Asda/Tesco wooden clothes peg', You have been warned.

Dentyl non-alcoholic mouthwash, I went to buy some. Call in Superdrug - £4.29. No no no. Sainsburys - £3.29 - bought some :) Visit Asdas - 'Half price' for £2. Bugger :mad:

And for today I have re-written some of the more interesting UK news headlines (Scuse I the mild expletive):


And here is the news:

Best headline of the day: ‘Fat bastard freezes nuts off and gets stuck in mud fleeing old Bill in Essex’ http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-essex-32912951


Runner up headline of the day:

‘Brat makes bid to invent ejector seat for mum’s motor’ http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-devon-32913249

And finally:

‘Loonies turn out in mass to bury fellow loony’ “He looked like Merlin and even carried a staff” I see. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-32905942
 
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Actually the west country Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, Wiltshire and Gloucestershire are rife with Witches & Wizard covens and often the most unlikely of people are members. In a strange way they believe in a life after death rather like Christians do, but then so do many people of other religious beliefs do so as well. I personally am ambivalent whether I believe or not, but when I exit this mortal coil I will find out or not but will not return to inform PCR members whether or not:eek::confused:
 

floppybootstomp

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Uh-oh, you've got me started now, more ramblings.....


A month or two ago I decided to renew my CD player as my existing player, a Marantz CD52 Mk II was probably about 23 years old and though it still worked fine, compared to my vinyl playback was really no longer cutting the mustard.


After some browsing and studying I settled on a new CD player that was just a fraction out of ‘budget’ range at £260 the Marantz CD6500 and looked for a shop stocking it. Richer Sounds at Holborn, central London had one so one Saturday I set out to make my purchase.


I printed out a map showing just the main streets from Holborn Tube to the Richer Sounds shop in Bloomsbury Way and made my journey. When I exited the tube station I knew I had to turn left but – the street was blocked off. Then I remembered – the day before there had been a large underground fire in Holborn and a good part of the area was sealed off. Bugger.


Now, my map only showed main streets and this turned out to be pretty much useless to me so I just set off walking hoping my sense of direction would guide me to the shop. After about 20 minutes I realised my sense of direction must have been shot cos I was lost. And I thought I knew central London. But there again I had not frequented it for many years, had no need to.


Eventually I decided to ask for help and came across a police transit van and a few old Bill at one of the numerous road blocks stopping us gullible public from walking near the scene of a (now extinguished) pavement fire. The fire, incidentally, was caused by underground electrical cables shorting out and causing a helluva lotta smoke.


I approached the male policeman of the crew. It’s true what they say, you know you’re getting old when the copper you meet doesn’t look old enough to have left school yet. This specimen also suffered from acne and wasn’t going to be first in the queue for a date with anything considered even mildly tasty. And from our ensuing conversation I surmised he probably wasn’t the sharpest knife in the block either.


‘Excuse me’ I said, addressing the young constable with the navy blue tit on his head ‘Could you tell me how to get to Bloomsbury Way in view of all the road closures?’ He replied ‘One moment’ and immediately whipped out his iPhone and opened some kind of GPS app. I thought ‘Kinell, I could have done that, if only I knew how, cos I only use my phone as a phone and a music player’ That’ll teach me to be lazy and not learn that stuff.


I was optimistic though and I waited for young Mr Plod’s welcome advice and directions. But after a full five minutes he looked up, scanned around and pointed in one direction and said ‘It’s over there’. I thought ‘Kinell, I knew that’ but I thanked him anyway and walked away. I thought, thinking really like a very old person ‘In my day all the coppers knew their patch inside out and could help you, this twat is green behind the ears and knows bugger-all’. The policeman, in case you’re curious, was a white fella and sounded to be of local ethnic origin, descended from what we now refer to as ‘the indigenous population’


And so I carried on walking. Somehow I ended up in Covent Garden, outside the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane and opposite the Royal Opera House. I looked at The Royal Opera House and thought ‘Bloody hell, what have they done to it?’ It’s changed. In my day it kinda resembled a Greek Parthenon building, all classic and classy, a good looking building. But they’ve rebuilt it and now it’s just a concrete slab. It’s horrible, characterless. Sacrilege! My mind cried. Oh well.


Then I looked at the side of the Theatre Royal and remembered how 15 years previously I had installed CCTV here, along the side of the building, 3 cameras at the top of the columns, looking down on the dossers who used to drink themselves silly sitting in the stage door exits and who would frequently urinate in those doorways. It hasn’t changed, the dossers were still sitting on the floor drinking but at the time I was there none were taking a leak.


I did get some funny looks from the folk waiting outside the stage entrance door (they still queue there for autographs, the saddos) cos I was loitering and looking up to see if my cameras were still there (they were – yay!) and I am quite old now and oldies loitering are probably looked on as suspect. Still – fek ‘em, lol.


I remember well when I was installing those cameras in 2000, being at the top of a ladder and looking down to see one of the theatre employees giving a guided tour to a bunch of tourists, mainly American and Japanese. The guide was a nice looking female dressed in a kind of Nell Gwynn style with a somewhat large cleavage who spoke to the tourists in an accent somewhere between Truro and Camberwell.


Anyhow, as she stopped at the foot of my ladder with all these tourists around her who were trying really hard not to remember Pearl Harbour, Nagasaki and Hiroshima, she looked up at me and pointed and said to the gathered throng ‘You will all notice that young man up there (Young? Oh, I liked her) if he doesn’t start concentrating on his work and stop looking down at the front of my dress he might fall off his ladder’. Well, I turned a deeper shade of scarlet, she grinned and those tourists who had a fair grasp of English had a good chuckle at my expense.


I saw her later inside the theatre and she asked me if I liked her observation and I had to laugh, she was a very lively and witty lady who I spoke to several times after during the CCTV installation. Quite a fascinating place, the Theatre Royal, some very intriguing basement locations, steeped in history.


So I looked over to the Royal Opera House and that brought back more memories. Back in ’73 for about 6 months I drove a transit van delivering smoked salmon from New Cross to locations all over London. One of my deliveries was the Royal Opera House where I had to deliver two large boxes full of Scotch Smoked Salmon to the Chef. He was an Italian geezer and after a few weeks he told me they really only needed one box and would I like to but one box back? Aye aye, I thought – a fiddle. The boxes cost £20 each, he wanted a fiver for one so I said yes.


From Covent garden I drove to Big Ben where outside Westminster tube station my mate Phil’s dad Stan sold newspapers. I spoke to Stan and told him what I had to sell and could he use it? He said yes, cos he knew all the local restaurant owners and he gave me a tenner for the box so I made a fiver. Considering I was only earning £20 a week this was a good deal.


This went on for around five months until I left the job. Stan was a good bloke, he brown bread now sad to say, but back in ’67 I think it was, his house backed onto the site of the Hither Green rail crash and he and his family served tea and comfort all night to the rail crash victims. Got his picture in central spread of Daily Mirror for his troubles.


And so I carried on with my travels. I saw a cluster of rickshaw drivers in Covent garden and I thought he’s bound to know where Bloomsbury Way is so I asked him. He had a job understanding me cos he didn’t speak much English, he was Polish, Lithuainian. Romanian, or Russian or summat and he didn’t really have a clue what I was on about. I said ‘Kinnell mate, how do you work as a rickshaw driver when you don’t even know your way around here?’


To give him his due he did whip out an A-Z and done his best to try and help me out. Young white guy, bearded, glasses, nice disposition but bloody hell, aren’t there any Londoners left? And lest I be accused of being a bigot, Polish folk, imo, are cool, they are on our side and some of them flew Spitfires – and died in them – during WW2. Let us not forget.


After that I gave up on my quest and walked back to Charing Cross and thus home.


I got my CD player a week later when I hired a car to do some work and after I’d finished my tasks I visited Richer Sounds at Bromley in the hired motor car.


Was the CD player a worthwhile purchase I hear you ask? Why yes it was, sounds fabulous and I can plug a USB stick or iPod into it and it plays back. Also plays mp3’s and FLAC files from disc. Groovy.
 

Taffycat

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Your trip around Holborn certainly provided us with a most entertaining read Flopps. So glad your muse has returned! That's if it ever left...

You probably didn't get much assistance from the local Plod, because you weren't pointing a camera at him. I think they only get into "helpful-mode" when they know they're about to feature in one of those fly-on-the-wall, CCTV-compilation shows on the box! So no point in being helpful if his actions were not about to be aired in wonderful, living colour... zits and all! Duh...

Ooh, cynical, I hear you mutter... yeah, true. But I can't help but feel a tad cross, when the kind of service one receives, is dependent upon whether a camera happens to be switched-on.

Glad to hear that you finally managed to get your CD player and hope you'll enjoy many years of trouble-free service from it. :thumb:

By the way, how are you getting-on with your Nutri-Bullet? Have you continued to experiment and invent any tasty smoothies?

All the best... :D
 

floppybootstomp

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I've got to like the Nutribullet now and have realised that combinations of foodstuffs vary greatly in their results. Today I done about a dozen strawberries, a tangerine, a handful of spinach and a couple of walnuts topped up with spring water. This was the first one that tasted good. I drank a pint of it.

I just wrote an anti-smoking rant in answer to some twat on facebook trying to justify their habit and bemoaning the Government's anti-smoking stance. This is what I writ down in some font or other:


I sometimes see people giving rants against anti-smoking measures and attempting to defend their right to smoke so I’m going to say a few things about smoking that will not be in it’s favour. Before I start my spiel I’d like to point out that yes, I know some folk will smoke into their old age, reaching their 80’s or 90’s before something other than smoking kills them. I also know that these folk are comparatively rare, though my friends’ father did die recently at the age of 89 and his cause of death was given by the doctor as ‘natural causes’. Up until his death he enjoyed pints of bitter and rolled and smoked Golden Virginia tobacco.


But he’s the exception and only the most stubborn people would deny that smoking is a form of Russian Roulette, albeit a bit slower, usually, than pulling a gun’s trigger with it placed against your head.


An argument often used to justify smoking is comparing it to another habit that’s not beneficial to the average human being. Such as drinking alcohol. Smoking could similarly be compared to the many varied forms of drug taking and dangerous sports, such as the Isle Of Mann TT races. Let’s face it, all give a great deal of pleasure and all are with risk to human well being.


It is no argument at all, we should look at one vice, habit or practice at a time and decide whether we’re comfortable with them or not. Saying ‘Drinking kills more people than smoking’ is like pointing at your classmate in school and saying ‘But he done it Sir’. It’s just not on, not on at all, we are talking smoking here and only smoking.


For my argument I will only concentrate on the medical aspects of smoking and not mention at all the cost and the impact it can have on an individual’s budget; the fact that a smokers’ home will never smell fresh; that smokers can be smelt in close proximity and the smell lingers on their body, clothes and hair; their breath will never be pleasant; items in their home will gradually develop a browny-yellowish tinge; if you’re a parent and you smoke in your offspring’s presence you’ll treat them to passive smoking and increase their chances of becoming unwell and smoking also ages people prematurely, smoke 20 fags and encourage those wrinkles boys and girls. No, I won't mention those relatively minor aspects of puffing snouts.


Still with me? Ok, then let’s look at the medical impact of smoking. Some smokers in denial still cling to a saying that was bandied about in the sixties and early seventies ‘But it hasn’t been proved that smoking causes cancer’. Well I’ve news for you folk – oh yes it has, just browse the Cancer UK website and there it is in black and white for you – all those chemicals you imbibe when inhaling tobacco residue are carcinogenic – fact. Consultant oncologists have likened the onset of cancer in smokers as being akin to an allergic reaction, in other words some people will develop cancer through smoking and others will not. Again, we can make that Russian Roulette comparison.


So let’s take a look at what could happen to those who will be unlucky enough to smoke and develop tumours large and small which will, one way or another, change their life – or end it – forever.


Most smokers are aware that smoking can cause lung cancer and some think that’s the only ailment smoking can give you. Some will also be aware that smoking can lead to thrombosis, heart disease which could result in a leg amputation or heart attack but many are unaware of the cancer caused by smoking that is second only to lung cancer – oral.


Consider that constant stream of smoke over all that delicate tissue between your lips and your lungs – mouth interior, tongue, gums, throat, tonsils, trachea, oesophagus and thence to the lungs. The steady flow of carcinogens leaves lots of areas very susceptible to that ‘allergic reaction’ and a cancer will form.


Apart from the ubiquitous lung cancer here’s a few other possible results of contracting cancer from smoking:


  1. Whole voice box removed. This will leave a permanent hole in your throat meaning you have to wear a shield over your throat whenever you venture out and of course you will lose your ability to speak. Eating could get kinda messy too.

  2. Part of oesophagus removed thus victim loses abilty to swallow. Only way to stay alive is by imbibing liquidised food through a tube permanently inserted into stomach.

  3. Radiotherapy damages saliva glands giving dry mouth. This means swallowing ability is impaired and food can only be swallowed with lots of liquid such as gravy, soup or tomato juice. No more crisps or cashew nuts for you then. Saliva is also a protection for teeth and gums and this means as a result of radiotherapy your teeth will fall out quicker than they would have done. So as well as lots of moisture to swallow food your foodstuffs must now also be soft. Or blended.

  4. Some types of chemotherapy (apart from the well documented nausea and hair loss at time of treatment) can also lead to hearing loss in the high frequency range.

  5. Tongue amputated. This means no taste, no speech and depending on amount of amputation, possibly being fed through a stomach tube. You could also consider the sexual connotations (or now lack of them).
During radiotherapy you will lose your sense of taste, you will have the feeding tube inserted into your stomach as your throat may swell so you can’t swallow, your throat and ear skin will become red, dry, sore and cracked and you will wake to see your pillows stained with blood from your cracked skin.


Now because smoking IS so pleasurable – let us not deny that, foul as it may be – smokers will put forward many arguments to justify their addiction. One is that ‘I’ve paid a fortune in tobacco taxes so why am I now being centred for penalisation by the government?’ One reply could be that yes, you’ve paid lots in taxes through buying those twenty Bensons every day for all those years but the cost to the National Health Service (and therefore the UK as a whole) when you finally fall ill will more than outweigh your contribution to the Chancellor.


The reason that anti-smoking measures are being taken is mostly because the Government has finally woken up to how much smoking is costing the NHS, it’s nothing to do with any false notion that they care for the public’s health – they don’t, they couldn’t care less if you die puffing a Marlboro. Everything, to the Government is money driven. So they finally figured it was more beneficial to the country’s budget to save money on the NHS than suck up to the tobacco barons and make their old Eton chums even richer.


So that’s my anti-smoking rant. Please, if you want to smoke, go ahead and smoke, you do at least still have the freedom to do so. But don’t EVER, EVER, put yourself across as a bunch of victimised people and don’t ever try and justify your habit.


Because you cannot justify your habit apart from saying you have a weakness.


Smoking sucks and it causes illness, it’s as simple as that.


To end, to all of you who do still smoke and would like to quit – I wish you luck.
 

floppybootstomp

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Hahahahahahahahaha! Me anti-smoking diatribe shut you's all up then, lol :D

Sometimes, one has to spout, doesn't one? :)

Right then, full moon, taken about 30 minutes ago. Golly gosh it's rather warm.

moon001.jpg


moon002.jpg


moon003.jpg
 

muckshifter

I'm not weird, I'm a limited edition.
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couldn't take a picture like them last night ... we had big black clouds that made a lot of noise and had very bright lightning streaks all over it ... and a LOT of rain!

Now I want to know what camera you used and on what settings. :)
 

floppybootstomp

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Fuji X-Pro 1; 35mm lens; all on auto shutter speed; Pic 1: All auto; Pic 2: f11; Pic 3: f2

I think.

All using a tripod.
 

Taffycat

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Lovely photos Flopps! How lucky were you to have such clear skies, bonza! :thumb:

Hahahahahahahahaha! Me anti-smoking diatribe shut you's all up then, lol :D

Sometimes, one has to spout, doesn't one? :)
Could have sworn that I'd commented... but I guess I only "liked" meaning to return a little later. I do that sometimes, but then get completely distracted by something else. It's a TC thing. :)

You wrote a jolly good diatribe actually Flopps, and a most appropriate reminder about the less "cool" aspects of smoking. It still puzzles me why anyone would still want to; particularly when one considers how much information is now readily available. As Toyah might have said.. it's a mystery.

Near the beginning of this year, I became ill with a chest infection. I was far from being the only one, of course, because this lurgie was, just one of many which happened to be going around. Severe coughing caused some rib damage - the Dr thought I'd managed to strain the intercostal muscles, because the pain was more widely spread than it would have been if I'd only cracked a rib. Sufficient to say it was darned painful to move, breathe, touch ... big ouchy! The really annoying part, was that just as the ribs would "improve" yet another fit of coughing would plunge me back into square one again. Months later, and my chest is still not completely better.

My reason for mentioning this at all, is that years ago, my late father was a heavy smoker. He would light-up, cough uncontrolably, his face turning an interesting shade of puce, then purple, and proceed to fog-up the room with eye-watering smoke. Lovely! Watching that ritual was enough to put me off adopting the habit - particularly his delightful custom of doing this at the dinner table. Ugh! So maybe I should be thankful to him for that. Or maybe, being "kippered" at such an early age, has contributed a little, to my current, on-going chest problem? How many of his 20+ per day, was I unwittingly absorbing? Unfair of me to think this way? Yes, maybe.

But, if your words of wisdom influence even a small percentage of your readers to take a different course, then good on ya!

:D
 
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Superb photos flops :bow:, well as far as the diatribe well I agree with you trouble is I have tried many times to give up and failed miserably and still coughing and spluttering :eek::eek::eek:
 
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Never smoked. Never wanted to smoke. Yes it is disgusting. Stinky, expensive, unhealthy.
If in the past I have met a ladies that smoked I have in the past given them an ultimatum

Smoke be with someone else.
Cease to smoke and be with me

Some have said ok, some have said pissoff ;)

To which I have said goodbye and good luck with your health in the future, smiled and walked away :D
 

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