Flying . . .

I did it!

I'm still up in the clouds!

I went flying!

It was a perfect day. Almost totally clear with just a few whispy clouds floating around at about 4,000 feet. Visibility was perfect. Wind was almost non-existent.

We arrived at the airport and I was soon walking across the tarmac to a small two-seat Cessna 150 aircraft - call sign Golf-Bravo Romeo Tango Juliet.

We did the preliminaries - a quick check around the aeroplane and some discussion of what the controls did and what the instruments told me - and then we were taxi-ing towards runway 27 awaiting clearance from ATC for take-off.

In a small aircraft like the 150 you certainly feel the bumps and lumps. As we flew over a local quarry soon after take-off at about 1,000 feet and climbing at a rate of 300ft per minute there was a sudden updraught caused by hot air rising off the bare rock of the quarry. It gave me a bit of a kick but all was under control.

I had an hour of pure excitement, finding it challenging to think of controlling a machine not just in two dimensions like a car - left, right and ahead - but also up and down! Remembering to keep the craft level while in a banking turn made you really think at first. But when I ceased gripping the controls and relaxed and let the craft do most of the work I began to relax and enjoy the exhilarating feeling.

All this was thanks to my darling wife Ros and my two sons Andi and Chris, who paid for the flight as my birthday present.

Thank you for one of the most exciting times of my life and an experience that will live with me for ever!

Between a Rock and a Hard Place . . .

One bloke borrows money from another. He promises to pay it back with interest. He then lends that money to several other blokes, who each promise to pay it back with interest. They then lend it to more blokes, who each also promise to pay it back with interest. Bloke number one then asks for repayment of his loan. Bloke number two says he has to find out who has the money so that he can get it back and repay Bloke number one. Blokes three, four and five say they have to find out who has the money so that they can repay Bloke number two so that he can repay Bloke number one.
And so on . . .
This recently happened in the "good ole US of A" - that bastion of capitalist society. The lending had got so out of hand that nobody knew who owed whom and how much it was. The situation led to several financial institutions going broke because they couldn't find their money!
This led to a financial crisis in the US which had repercussions worldwide.
In the UK we used to have wonderful institutions called mutual building societies. They were originally started by groups of people who invested money and became equal shareholders in the society. They lent money to other people for the express purpose of buying their homes. The borrowers also became shareholders on account of the property they were buying belonged to the building society until the loan was fully paid. The people who invested money did so for the purpose of saving and as such they were paid a rate of interest. The people who borrowed were able, in the long term, to own their own homes. They paid a slightly higher rate of interest. The difference in the rates of interest paid for the administration of the society.
Through most of the 20th century this system worked well. You went to a building society when you needed to buy a house and they advanced you a loan called a mortgage. You could have as much as thirty years to pay the loan at a rate of interest much lower than bank loan interest rates.
Then the big banks got interested in widening their business. They started issuing mortgages. They also thought it would be a good idea to buy up building societies. Many of the shareholders of these building societies - both borrowers and investors - saw a quick buck and sold their shares.
Some of the bigger building societies then realised that they could break into the banking world and reverse the trend. So they decided to cease to be mutual societies and become public limited companies. Members would become shareholders not only in name but also in the eyes of the Stock Market. Or they could just take the value of the shares to which they were entitled and run - which many did. Most of these companies then expanded into banking, insurance and many other financial areas.
Now there are only a few mutual societies left.
Northern Rock was a building society based originally in the north of England. Although it gave up its mutual status it still based its business mainly on the lending of money for the purchase of homes.
But the scenario recited at the beginning of this post doesn't just happen in the US. It has spread worldwide. Northern Rock got caught up in this web. It realised that it had lost track of some of its investments and may not be able to meet the demand should its customers decide to withdraw money. So - with a good track record - it went to the grand old lady of Threadneedle Street (The Bank of England) and asked for financial backing. The Old Lady said yes and everything should have been fine. But Mr Average Northern Rock Investor got wind of this and decided that it would be better to invest elsewhere - just in case.
We now have the scene of hundreds of people queueing up outside Northern Rock branches to take out their money in case the bank goes under. More than one financial pundit has said words to the effect that in Britain this has not happened in living memory. Shares in Northern Rock have plummeted to below the level when the institution was first floated on the Stock Exchange.
Most of this is attributable to the fall in confidence in financial institutions brought about by the stupid US capitalist system of borrowing other peoples' borrowings.
People in this country - ordinary savers and borrowers - are losing confidence in their banks and want to see their cash in their hands rather than as a number on a bank statement.
Since the Bank of England has backed Northern Rock perhaps now would be a good time for the Chairman of the Grand Old Lady of Threadneedle Street to be seen going into a branch of Northern Rock with a large wad of cash and opening an account to show his confidence in the organisation. Perhaps he, or the Chancellor of the Exchequer, should even buy shares - or is there some rule against it?
If only we could keep it simple like it used to be . . .

High Expectations

Tomorrow is the day I go flying!
Yes, I finally take to the air in a two-seat aircraft and hopefully I will get to fly the machine under the watchful eye of an instructor. I'm so looking forward to it. The last time I did this was ten years ago in celebration of my 50th birthday. Then I was able to take my two sons in the passenger seats of a four-seater machine, leaving my wife on the ground to wait and hope I brought us all back safely.
This time I was hoping to be able to take my darling wife - but the only machine available is a two-seater. So, once again, my darling wife has to wait on the ground while I go up and get an hour of pure enjoyment. I do feel miffed because I so wanted her to share in the experience.
Nevertheless I intend to justify my family's birthday present by getting the most out of it in terms of experience and enjoyment that I can.
But it would have been so much better to have shared . . .

Where have all the Stars gone?

I mentioned in a recent post that I was on holiday in West Wales recently. One thing really struck me while I was there. Llangranog is a tiny hamlet in an idyllic cove. There are some houses, two pubs and a cafe. As I mentioned we stayed in one of the pubs right next to the beach. Each night we were there I would wander out on to the beach just before going to bed to have a smoke. I remember looking up and seeing a clear sky with lots of bright stars. Where I live on the edge of Bristol you can look up on a clear night and see just a few of the brightest of stars.
I got to thinking: Is this a result of global warming? Is it atmospheric pollution? After all when I was a kid (was it really half a century ago?) I lived pretty well in the heart of Bristol. We all burned dirty coal fires to keep warm. There was still plenty of heavy industry in the area pumping out more fumes and pollution. The Clean Air Act hadn't even been thought of. And yet, if you looked up on a clear night you could see thousands of stars - the bright, the not-so-bright and many hundreds of small dim specks in the sky.
Then the real reason dawned on me.
Light pollution.
We are obsessed with light. We more or less floodlight our streets and motorways. People light up their gardens for "ambiance". We have security lights, advertising lights all blazing away all night. Car lights are much more powerful nowadays and there are so many more vehicles on the roads. I sometimes feel we even have lights to light up our lights!
I can't talk. The company I work for sells all sorts of lights including the ubiquitous security lights and garden lighting. Everything from a 0.2 watt LED garden lamp to a 500 watt security floodlight. Now many of these devices have some advice in their instructions for use about using lights responsibly in order to reduce the impact of light pollution. But who reads the instructions? I suspect very few. Thus many security lights invade their neighbours' privacy and many light up as much sky as garden.
If only we could have a special night designated "No Lights Night". If it happened people would look up and be astounded at how much light Mother Nature provided and how much of it we are drowning with our own brash and ugly floods of misdirected light.
Think of the stars we could see.
Think of the carbon emissions which could be saved.
But then, think of the rich pickings for all the burglars . . .

Recycle or Renew?

I went to the opticians today. I was more than a year out of date with my eye test and I had noticed a distinct deterioration in my eyesight so I finally decided it had to be done.
I have, at present, two pairs of spectacles - identical frames, identical variable focus prescription lenses, but one clear for everyday use and one tinted for use in bright sunlight. Both frames are in good condition and fit very comfortably so I thought I would just have the prescription changed and use the frames again. It would save the cost of new frames.
So along I went and explained what I wanted. It turns out that opticians must make a large mark-up on frames because the deals they offer mean that it is cheaper to buy new frames with your new prescription glasses than to have the lenses changed!
When I made the point that I wanted to recycle the present perfectly adequate frames the young lady dealing with my query - one Ceri by name - stated that all old frames were recycled by sending them to Africa to help the poor people there.
Very commendable!
But . . . how much in the way of carbon emissions is generated by sending old spectacles to Africa? How much less would it be for me to send some cash to African charities?
I will probably have new frames because I cannot afford the difference. But I will still feel cheated and in some ways guilty that I could have been greener about the whole issue.

Get Fit and be Damned!

For many years my wife attended Yoga classes. She went because she felt it exercised her body and helped keep her in trim. And I have to admit that she has a beautifully slim figure. She stopped going because she preferred pilates, another form of gentle exercise which helps to keep her trim.
I will also state that my wife has no religious views. She was brought up C of E because that was where her parents went. We were married in her local parish church - mainly because that was what her parents wanted, not because we had strict views on making promises before God. She teaches in a C of E school - not because of her religious views but because it is local and it suits her. In short, my wife is a religious "don't know".
What is all this leading to? All will now be revealed.
The Reverend Derek Smith, a vicar at St Michael's Church, Melksham, Wiltshire, England, has told a local yoga group they are not welcome in the church hall.
Why? Because of the connections with the Hindu faith.
The vicar said that spiritual leaders in the East insisted that yoga was inseparable from Hindu devotional practice and therefore yoga was "un-Christian". Perhaps they do hold that belief. But practitioners in this country probably don't think that. I have no hard evidence but I would be prepared to wager that even most teachers of yoga in this country think first and foremost of the good that yoga can do for the body's fitness. Perhaps there doesn't have to be that religious link?
Ask most people who go to yoga classes in this country and they will tell you they go there to keep fit. To keep in trim. To keep healthy. Do most of them go to practise devotional exercises? The answer would be a resounding "no".
The Bible states that the body is a temple to God. As such we should look after it and keep it healthy. Yoga could help.
I wonder how fit Reverend gentleman is? He is reported to be 50 years old. Does he have a paunch that would benefit from some exercise? I don't know. I know one thing. His brain definitely needs exercise. If he thought before he talked he would realise that Jesus didn't discriminate about who he talked to. He taught us to love our neighbour. He taught us to turn the other cheek.
Hang on - Jesus is considered a prophet by the Muslim faith.
Should we ban Jesus from our churches because he is "un-Christian"?
Oh shit! This is getting out of hand . . .
Nuff said.

Horse shit!

Today I am in campaigning mood. I'll tell you all about it - but first I must give you some background info.
For several years now it has been an offence to let your dog roam free on the streets. Dogs must be kept under control (usually meaning on a lead). It is also an offence to let your dog "do its business" in a public place without clearing up after it. All around the streets you see law-abiding dog owners stooping down after their dogs with their little plastic bags picking up the canine excrement they leave behind. Most do it from a sense of civic duty - but some only do it because they face a fine of up to £1,000 if they are caught.
All very commendable. It leads to cleaner, more healthy streets for our citizens.
It's a shame that it would not be workable - at least in this country - to enforce this type of law against cat owners. It really upsets me to find little piles of cat turds in my garden. Perhaps people should be made to walk their cats on a lead just like dogs. Then perhaps some of the wildlife that visits my garden - birds, hedgehogs, other rodents - would not be needlessly killed. I know it's instinctive for cats to hunt and kill small animals but that harks back to the times when they killed to eat. Most cats are well fed and they just kill from instinct, not from a need to eat or survive.
One day I'm going to get a shotgun . . .
But I digress.
I'll take you back to the title of this entry. Horse shit!
I live in a suburb quite close to countryside. Very often one sees horses being ridden round our streets.
In case you hadn't noticed, horses are much bigger than dogs or cats.
Thus, they produce proportionately more excrement.
It seems quite acceptable that horses can dump a load of hot, steaming shit whenever and wherever they feel the need.
A cat produces a few grammes of detritus. A dog a little more.
A horse?

PILES OF THE STUFF!

Do we ever see a rider stopping and shovelling it off the road into a sack? No, they leave it there for others to avoid as best they can. Cars spread it over the road. Cyclists and motorcyclists have to try to avoid it as best they can or else they stand a chance of skidding on the stuff and suffering serious injuries and damage to their machines.
In times gone by people would rush out of their houses to shovel up the piles of muck because it makes good garden fertiliser. These days we have no need because we can buy it from the local garden centre nicely sterilised and not smelling like a farmyard.
It's about time that the people who own and ride these beautiful animals took responsibility for the damage they are doing to the environment.

SAVE OUR STREETS FROM HORSE SHIT!

Time to learn about keeping time . . .

I haven't mentioned it before but quite recently I celebrated my 43rd 18th birthday (do the maths yourself). Spouse and offspring were all strictly instructed that mention of the numbers 6 and 0 together were strictly taboo! So they honoured my wishes and produced a beautifully appropriate birthday card. They also clubbed together and bought me a flying lesson! Joy of joys - it's a great feeling to be behind the controls of an aircraft, soaring through the clouds into the brilliant sunshine above and knowing that the craft is going where it's going because YOU are controlling it - even if it is under the strict control of an instructor.

They bought me a flying lesson ten years ago when I reached my half-century (oops - I've given my real age away!) and that has lived vividly in my memory ever since, especially as I was able to take the two kids with me in the passenger seats. This time I'm hoping we can again secure a craft capable of taking passengers so that my wife can share the experience and pure excitement.

Another thing I had listed as a possible present was a watch which showed both analogue and digital time.

Well, my wife's sister and her husband came to see us today and brought me a present of a super watch.

It shows both analogue and digital time.

Great! Just what I wanted and I'm very happy to wear it and use it.

It also shows the temperature.

Useful!

It shows the date.

Also very useful!

You can use it as a stopwatch.

This can have its uses.

It has an alarm.

Good for when I fall asleep in my lunch break!

It can also tell me the time in any part of the globe.

Just in case I want to telephone someone in Outer Mongolia without waking them in the middle of the night.

It tells me the phases of the Moon.

Like I can't look up and see what shape the Moon is?

It also tells me - based on all the other data - when is the best time to go fishing.

Fishing? I have never been fishing in my life! Neither would I ever want to.

Nevertheless, it is a beautiful watch. I would like to enrol in a University degree course on how to set the whole thing up so that I can make it do what I really need it to do - namely tell the time.

As I said I would like to learn how to set up the watch by taking a degree but - I haven't got the time . . .

Cars - who'd have them?

I have just spent the last two days working on cars. Nearly two weeks ago my wife bought another Renault 5. It is almost identical to the one she already owns - except that the latter has nearly 80,000 miles on the clock and the new one has less than 28,000.

So we decided it would be a good idea to take all the best bits off the old one and transfer them to the new one.
Now I am not a mechanic. But I have a little book which tells me exactly what to do and how to do it.

Tailgate gas struts - a doddle.
Swap the back bumpers - no problem.
Wheel trims - a piece of cake.
Swap the radios - OK, I went about it the wrong way. The sensible way, as I realised halfway through the job, was just to swap the whole console. But by that time I had managed - via various sweats and swearwords - to strip out one radio! Ah well, shit happens!
Change the windscreen wiper motors. Well, the book shows you the complete sequence of operations for taking out the windscreen wiper assembly so that should be easy! The book, however, does not allow for the fact that not everything is exactly like the book. So, it says remove the bonnet seals - done. It says remove the windscreen washer reservoir - after some shoving and pushing and a lot of swearing, again done. Remove the windscreen wiper arms - no problem. Unscrew the bolt of the motor mounting bracket - it won't unscrew! The locking nut doesn't lock - it just turns with the nut you're trying to undo! Decided that I can't do that and have to reassemble all the bits I'd taken out just to make a working wiper again. Several hours of wasted labour, not to mention wasted breath swearing at said wiper assembly.
On the whole, though, a reasonable job done. We can live with the fact that the wipers don't self-park. I even washed the new car (that's probably the first and last time it gets washed!).
Several hours work over several days has made me realise that I will never make a motor mechanic.
As I said before - shit happens!

Holidays!

We have just come back from a superb break in Wales! Yes, Wales! Not the Algarve, the Spanish Costas, Peru, Australia, Thailand or any of the other popular destinations of the great unwashed British tourist-cum-lager-lout.
For the first time ever we didn't book anywhere. We just pointed the car and hoped we would be able to get accommodation when we arrived. We landed up in Lampeter in West Wales, found a B&B in the Castle Hotel and did some exploring. Hotel OK, if you allow for the fact that the loo had a Sanilav which made all sorts of industrial noises when it flushed - IF it flushed! The float valve had a habit of sticking so that the cistern did not always fill - shit happens . . .
The countryside in the area is beautiful - lots of hills and rocky coastline with beautiful rocky coves. We stayed in Lampeter for two nights, visiting local beaches and places of interest. Devil's Bridge was notable. It is a wild park with an amazing waterfall which drops down and down over many stages. It's not Niagara or the Victoria Falls but it has a beauty and serenity all its own. Visitors from many different countries were there and yet there was still a sense of calm and peace as we all marvelled at the wonders of nature.

We then moved to a marvellous little village on the coast which goes by the name of Llangranog. If you are exploring the region make a point of staying in the Pentre Arms Hotel. The accommodation is relatively cheap, comfortable and the food is superb! Breakfast is traditional English fry-up and extremely well cooked. Evening dinner has such an extensive menu with the accent - as you would expect from a coastal village - on seafood. Freshly caught swordfish, mackerel, hake, cod, plaice all featured on the menu along with more exotic dishes like Moroccan lamb, lasagne and other pastas and traditional dishes like steak and kidney pie, beef in Guinness and many more too numerous to mention. Staff were always courteous and helpful, although I felt a little regimented when it came to evening meal times when the restaurant was in great demand. Go to their website: http://www.pentrearms.co.uk/ and take a look for yourself. Llangranog is a beautiful little cove with lovely walks, beautiful scenery, wildlife and even - when the tide is right - surfing! Go there and enjoy!