I'm a mite bit worried!

The NHS in England is introducing a Summary Care Record whereby your medical details and history will be available to medical personel seemingly all over the country at the touch of a button. In a way no problem but alarm bells are ringing and I'll tell you why. Am I being unecessarily wary. I would not like to stand in the way of progress BUT!!!

Only last week the Sunday Times uncovered a scam involving call centres in India. Some unscupulous workers were/are offering credit card details of individual customers for 2 pence a shot! They could be your or my details, there are 500,000 British customers and 330.000 call centre workers in India. Information passed on included confidential details of both a health and financial matters.The scale of the problem is unknown.

Now three items that are not gleaned from the press. Last week my wife attended hospital concerning a serious heart problem. The hospital is massive, new, modern. We (I attended for support) move twice through two waiting areas as we followed procedures. Eventually a pleasant little consultant popped his head out of his room and called out 'Mrs Stevens.' My wife duly followed the smiling little man and entered his room.

She thought it strange when he asked about her brother and referred to her anxieties on her previous visit. And thought it increasingly strange when he assured her the tests had all proved negative. Mainly because as yet my wife, after some considerable time has not reached the testing stage! A covert glance at her file gave my wife her answer. 'I'm Paulette Stevens' announced my wife, 'the file you have there belongs to a **** Stevens.' Embarrassment and apologies all round. Compounded by the fact that the other lady of the same surname was in the consulting room of the consultant my wife should have seen in the first place. No real harm done, as one of the consultants said. 'You're lucky, seeing two doctors for the price of one.'  BUT the implications as to what might have happened are interesting.

 A lady of my acquaintance, of impecable standing and morality, over fifties years married had reason to be tested following ill health. She was duly sent for and informed of the results. 'Sorry but you have venereal    disease!' Imagine the shock to anyone, never mind an elderly lady. Plus the consultant was adament the tests were correct. There could be no mistake. As the lady exclaimed, 'I must have inherited it, I assure you.' Fortunately her husband found it funny. And the reason, a mix up again of two people of the same surname; result, one written apology. Which is better than nothing, or is it.

A cousin of mine and her husband, living in the wilds of Lincolnshire had to travel twenty five miles for hospital treatment. One one occasion there was much confusion and dispute over records and National Insurance details. It turned out that someone had the husband's details, and the paperwork to prove it. Don't ask me how plus he was drawing benefits to which he had no entitlement. Which is of course both bizarre and criminal.  

If these are experiences from my little sheltered existence, how typical of our complex technological world I wonder. And it does all make you wonder what happens to all this information on us that is recorded and stored. Machines, commuters, systems rely on humam beings and I don't particularly trust human beings. What do you think? 

Subtle change, Blink and You Miss it.

    An Indian reader recently took me to task for daring to suggest India was a Third World country. (The point I was making if I rightly remember was that your survival in early years was partly dependent on where you are born.) The writer seemingly had qualifications, lived in a city and had an 'important' job. All very interesting. A recent Indian government report states that more Indian households have a mobile phone than a toilet. (private toilets 4% of population) 17% need to fetch water from more than a kilometre away. Only 2.3% of households have a car; 66% of Indians still cook on firewood, cow-dung, crop waste or coal. I suspect, sadly that too many either do not know how the other half live or are in denial.

    I am seventy two years of age. So I clearly remember life and changes over the past sixty plus years. You might find some of the following interesting. They are NOT world shattering observations, just small things in the main that show subtle changes in one man's lifetime.

Toys at Christmas and birthdays. In particular I remember a small, around 4 inch long jeep. A WIND-UP toy. I wonder at what stage wind-ups vanished from the scene. (It was my eight year old grandson Tommy's birthday this week. Presents included an IPod and a Wii game.) 

I also had a pocket watch, again wind-up. I probably swapped it for something else. Much, much later in life I had a computerish type watch that was all singing, all dancing. (The children I taught in the seventies had noisy alarms on watches that went off in lessons until I took a fire bucket into a lesson!) When did this sort of technology creep in I wonder.

    I had a bike, second hand with a dynamo that created light by a wheely thing rubbing against a tyre. Hard work, the faster you peddled, the brighter the light. I remember it well!

We collected BRS numbers and the obligatory locomotive numbers and names. Gradually diesel trains became the norm, far less interesting than their dirty, smokey predecessors.

We listened to Dick Barton on the radio and in the blink of an eye he was no more. They filled in our canals, called schools comprehensives and built bypasses round town. (Derby has just completed an inner ring road designed forty years ago!)

    People worry when they start to forget things. For goodness sake, what do you expect if you live to be over thirty! I remember the first Eagle comic (1950) and the moon landings; (1969) they have specific dates. Most things do not; like us, they just fade away. Remember drip dry shirts. Where and when did they go. When did you last see a 'What the Butler Saw' in an amusement arcade? Do you remember 78 records going and did you have a Dansette record player? I remember when they hanged people for murder in this country (In the morning whilst we were in school assembly) but wireless accumulaters and cameras with a film in them, not so sure; nylon stockings with seams, horses delivering milk and groceries, dubbin and smog, all gone.

    By the way, my Indian friend, I too lived in a house with no inside toilet. A pair of toilets, side by side down the garden. With pans underneath that they emptied on Fridays. But all a long time ago. Happy days!

February, from the Sublime to the Ridiculous; Grumpys Alternative News.

There's nothing like people to make the news. Some examples who caught my eye.

Forty elderly people were arrested on Cyprus for holding weekly poker and bridge sessions. On player was ninety eight! Now you know what to do to keep you young.

A lady in Kent has unusual symptoms after a bout of flue. Birmingham born Debie Royston now speaks with a French accent. Evidently its called Foreign Accent Syndrome.

A man who rambled naked except for his boots and a baseball cap was fined £315 in Leeds Magistrates Court. What particularly amused me was that he kept score of people's reactions. (Adverse versus positive.) Evidently it was 15 to 0 positive until someone took offence!

Another case at Leeds Crown Court involved Michael Rogers of Castleford. He was a juror in a sex trial but stopped attending half way through. His reason, it was 'really boring.' Result, costs of £16,000 and the case had to be rescheduled. No further action was taken because of his 'dire financial circumstances.'

What else can a judge do!

A man was arrested down a manhole in Essex but pleaded not guilty to conspiracy to steal copper cable. I would love to know exactly what he told police he was doing. He was found guilty!

And a woman worker who was fired by a Brazilian branch of Weight Watchers after she put on 3st. is suing them for unfair dismissal. Again exactly what do you say in your defence in such a case?

When does 'funny' become serious? Xavier Alvarez evidently is an habitual liar. He lies about everything. Which is acceptable, I am led to believe, (guess where, folks) until you overstep the mark. (A court ruled 'it would be terrifying if the truth police could go after people for the exaggerations and deceptions that are an integral part of human intercourse.')

Xavier claimed dishonestly to be a holder of the Medal of Honor and that is an offence under the Stolen Valour Act. EXCEPT that he has now claimed everyone has the right to lie under the First Amendment. Evidently it all went to the Supreme Court. Any of my American friends care to share with us all the outcome?

Lest I'm accused of American bias, they do come up with good sense occasionally. Joseph Bray of Florida was violent towards his wife and landed up in court charged with domestic assault. His wife pleaded for leniency. His sentence? He was ordered to buy his wife flowers, take her to out for a meal at the Red Lobster Restaurant and then take her bowling. Nice one, Brown County Judge John Hurley.

Two contrasting police stories. Deputy Chief Constable Adam Briggs retired rather than explain how he spent an expense claim for £11,750 given him by North Yorkshire Police Authority. The Independent Police Complaints Commission are not happy. Such arrogance frightens and depresses me.

For 31 years, 1957-88 policeman Pavel Grechikhin stood at a traffic junction in Belgorod. He fined pedestrians who jaywalked, and kept traffic in order, fairly, without favour. (He even fined his own wife for crossing at the wrong place whilst bringing him his dinner!) A bronze statue has been erected in his memory. Don't you believe Russia is the land of corruption and the UK is squeaky clean.

Laugh or cry time.

An Australian born community warden is taking Kent County Council to the European Court of Human Rights because he's fed up with his colleagues greeting him with "G'day sport."

Portcullis House (an MP's office block) has been costing you and me £30,000 a year to pay for a dozen fig trees for decoration. The contract has not been renewed.

I know the police try to be helpful but how much does it cost to come up with guidelines on plants around the house to keep thieves off your property. Plus listing rhubarb is dubious; are the authors gardeners, its not exactly a lightning fast grower. (Metropolitan guidelines.)

I thought the criminal who donned a wig and gown to defend a mate in Plymouth Crown Court deserved a medal for nerve if not for brain power. So now he's in court as well charged with 'wilfully pretending to be a person with a right of audience.

Talking of crime and criminals, a restaurant has opened inside Cardiff Prison run by the prisoners. Serving three course meals with food sourced from the prison farm, I think it will do well. And its name, The Clink of course!

Luckiest people in the month seemed to have been refuse workers and street cleaners. Refuse workers in Cleethorpes found £2,700 in £20 notes whilst sorting through commercial waste. Its not been claimed and they've kept £150 each and given the rest to charity. Street cleaner Arron Large who works for Southend Council found a £21,000 Rolex watch down a drain. PLUS he's since found two more Rolex's, a Frank Muller watch and an Omega. Total value over £60,000 if no-one claims them!

Finally, who are the happiest people in the UK. Evidently, according to a Government wellbeing survey, the happiest people tend to be married, work part time and live in Northern Ireland. Mind you, the least happy in partnerships were those married forty years or more! And the least happy of all those surveyed? Evidently it was divorced males around forty five years of age who live in London! So now you know. If you want to know some less than useful information come to Grumpy!

Nostalgia Ain't What it Used to Be. Conclusion.

This piece is the actual end of the ebook I've been preparing. Funny business this writing milarky. An ego trip in a way. Some way to go re the technical side but nearly there I reckon. Don't they say there's a story in everyone waiting to get out. Hope these memories amuse.

'I remember the days when ‘No spitting’ signs were commonplace, particularly on public transport. So much so that a ‘clever dick’ in a local newspaper was moved to pontificate ‘Gentlemen who expectorate should not expect to rate as gentlemen’.

Memories of trains with a unique smell that blew out real soot; times when you wore socks not gloves on your hands to keep out the cold; coats on the bed for added warmth in winter and going to bed in daylight in summer. Omo and Ajax washing powder, Robin starch, Izal toilet paper for the posh and squares of newspaper on a nail for the not so well off. Beecham Powders, Venos Cough Mixture and Iodine, dolly tubs, tin baths and steam, always plenty of steam. Visits from the ‘Pru’ and the ‘tallyman’, both eager to collect money hard earned but easily spent.

The days when you had a choice of mild or bitter in the pub; dark mild to be avoided as the slops of other beers tended to be surreptitiously returned to the mild barrel by some unscrupulous landlords. And a time when some customers used the beer off, a side door to the pub. From where they fetched beer, one, two or four pints, usually in enamel jugs; taken home and drank in the privacy of their own homes.

I Spy Books, plasticine, fuzzy felts and cap guns; basin on your head haircuts, Beecham Pills, Cossor and HMV televisions; Vapex inhalers and Liberty bodices; Zal, Rinso and Quix; Elastoplast and SR toothpaste. Sunlight Soap and Opal Fruits, Dacron and drip dry shirts; brothel creepers and bootlace ties. Roy of the Rovers, ace goal scorer and Alf Tupper, world class sprinter who trained on fish and chips. Brown paper bags and kites made from newspaper. Plus scrap books, French knitting with the aid of a wooden bobbin and honing one’s tracing skills with the aid of greaseproof paper. Epilogues on the television; Bob a Job Week, bubble cars, bus conductors and Berni Inns; Tiger nuts, locust beans and gob-stoppers that changed colours; Formica and H-shaped television aerials dominating the landscape. Lone Ranger masks in puffed wheat packets, collecting BRS lorry numbers, Skiffle and the smell of Germicide toilet paper.

Summers when it never seemed to rain for weeks on end and winters when snow fell with regular abandon, especially at Christmas. Our bikes had poor brakes, our sledges no brakes plus we wore no helmets. We climbed trees, slowly and fell out of them quickly. We drank from wells, streams and public fountains and we shared luke warm water with numerous friends from far from clean bottles. We drank cow’s milk fresh and unpasteurised. We chewed all manner of grasses, bulbs and plants, some species known, others guessed at. We roamed the fields and barbed wire and nettles frequently inflicting pain but soon forgotten.

But the majority of us survived. Happy days! Look back and wonder but with few regrets. Look back and wonder, yes, but look forward too; for this individual at least it’s not over yet. Without becoming maudlin, I hope there were more than just a few laughs along the way. So you too must look in the mirror, wince if you must, but recognise what you see; a unique individual, shaped by life’s idiosyncrasies.'

Any more memories welcome. Any help, advice also welcome. The pictures, by the way are not me or family. Even I'm not that old!



Nostalgia Ain't What it Used to Be.

I have been writing for several years concerning life between 1945-1959 as I saw it. (aged five to twenty.) Hopefully it will be published as an ebook in the near future. I must admit I'm quietly excited though the technical side is way beyond me. I thought some might be interested in a couple of extracts from the epilogue. I wonder what readers from overseas make of it. And the younger ones amongst you! Any memories of your own from way back? Considering I seem to have followers from all over the world it would be interesting to compare notes!

'It is often the more subtle, little things in life that indicate the passing of time, ‘the way it was.’ Whatever happened to Spangles, where and when did they go? And the blue bags in crisps or trolley buses complete with poles. Buying shoes entailed having your feet x-rayed, not to be recommended, but an innocuous event at the time. Less aggressive, better mannered times, when AA men saluted and all stood up diligently in the cinema when the National Anthem played. Plus the audience probably knew all the words of ‘God Save the Queen’; Pakamacs, hair nets and head scarves; Blakeys and packets of five Woodbines; Capstan and Player's Full Strength. When cars had side indicators, most goods you bought were marked ‘Made in Britain and the upstairs on double-decked buses was full of smokers.

Change is subtle and sometimes is only remembered in retrospect. How many, myself included remember mother holding us firmly, spitting on a hanky and rubbing furiously inside our ears, painful and humiliating if friends were present!

Gone forever the days when breaks between television programmes meant interludes that fascinated almost as much as the programmes themselves. The potter’s wheel and the pot that was never to be completed; the little white kitten that played forever; plus the soothing effects of Angel Fish or windmills; and my particular favourite, the ploughman and his horse, ploughing for eternity. And who could forget Sunday dinners with Cliff Michelmore and Jean Metcalf on the wireless and evenings with Jimmy Clitheroe and ‘Sing Something Simple’ with Cliff Adams.

Small mainly unimportant changes but evidence of transition nevertheless. I remember black jack fruit salads, Pontefract cakes, sticks of liquorice and the grapes in Carnation and tapioca puddings. Bread and dripping, deliciously salty and cod liver oil and malt extract spooned out with regular monotony; semolina,  Spam, which stood for SPiced hAM, yellow fish and Little Miss Muffet junkets; dandelion and burdock delivered by lorry once a week; Where did they all go, and perhaps more important, when? Spanish root that dribbled disgustedly down your chin and sticks of real, jet black liquorish sticks, a magical laxative.

Continued next week.

The Older I Get, The Less I Know.

One of my childhood homes was supposedly haunted; I've been writing about it this week so its fresh in my mind. But is there anyone out there who is willing to say, 'I don't care whay you say, I Believe.! 

Sometimes when I was a teacher I’d be stuck for a lesson or a lesson would finish early. In which case I’d only have to say, “What do you know about ghosts?” and we’d be away. (I know, I know lesson plans are important but nobody’s perfect!)

“My granny says the Old Post Office is haunted and she knows ‘cause she’s old.”

“My mum says she saw a girl in odd clothes and a funny hat in her bedroom when she were a girl.”

(How many times have I told you, Trixiebell, it’s ‘you were, she was,’ not ‘you was, she were.’)

“Granddad often sees strange things on his way home from the pub.”

(I’ll bet he does!)

There’s no doubt many people believe in the supernatural and motorhomers are no different to anyone else. Plus the fact that they, motorhomers have the capability to visit places most likely to foster an unearthly presence. And though most of our metaphysical experiences can be explained, sometimes, just sometimes experiences are not so easily resolved.

I remember camping near Cromer many years ago when our children were very young. We, adults and small children wandered in the severest of fogs from the campsite towards the town. I seem to remember the weather often being foul, howling gales, or dense fog being the norm. (Which accounts for a proliferation of holiday photos showing anorak clad families braving the elements year after year.) Suddenly the ghostly sound of galloping horses echoed through the mist, becoming louder and louder, ghostly yet terrifyingly real. And real they were indeed, a group of runaway horses appeared out of the mist and fled past us at high speed to we knew not where.

I remember too food mysteriously spirited away nightly from our awnings in a park in Southport. Very strange, except that ghosts and apparitions have no need of our pork pies and treacle tarts, whilst tramps forced to sleep rough on the seafront definitely rate such culinary delights.

In the selfsame park on a late night walk our English bull terrier Buster became very agitated, at the same time doing my already high blood pressure no favours. I continued our walk, alone in the eerie darkness, a spooky experience guaranteed to set the heart pounding. Suddenly a large boxlike object came into view. Some sort of electrical substation, it emitted a persistent buzzing noise which could be heard only when you were very close indeed. Yet Buster had picked up the noise from some considerable distance. No ghostly cause then, but food for thought.

We have stayed in our trailer tent days inside the RAF Museum at Cosford. It is reputed that one aircraft, the Avro Lincoln RF398 is haunted. In the evenings when the public has gone home the place has an eerie mystique not easily dismissed. Whilst we cannot claim to have even fleetingly glimpsed a ghost, we did meet a volunteer who adamantly claimed an unearthly presence regularly misplaced his cleaning clothes as he worked on the aircraft.

Often we associate history with haunting. My wife and I visited Culloden on a cold, miserable morning. Culloden of course is the site of the last battle to be fought on mainland Britain. The date, April 16th 1746 when the army of the Jacobites were defeated by British Government troops.

We found the site fascinating and informative yet one thing stood out. The place had a chilling presence not easily ignored. And, though it was early summer, surprisingly not a single wild bird’s song could be heard; the silence was shattering in the extreme. Coincidence, perhaps, a fluke situation, maybe, but if ever a place deserves to be haunted, it’s Culloden.

Similarly Hadrian’s Wall is awesome yet, on a dull day at least, foreboding. Built by the Romans between AD 122-30, it is a stone and turf fortification built to keep out the Pictish tribes. It takes no great imagination to picture Roman soldiers marching the wall tops, weapons at hand to deter the warring Pics. And when the wind howls and the snow falls, who can be blamed if they hear the sound of caligae (military sandals) tramping the wall or the shouts of those in command urging on wet, cold soldiers.

A visit to Naseby is somewhat disappointing. The site of the most important battles in England, its importance in English history is unsurpassed. Here on June 14th 1645 Royal troops led by Prince Rupert fought Parliamentary troops under the command of Sir Thomas Fairfax. There has been little attempt to market, if that be the right word so important a place in our British heritage. Contrast the wonderful, informative modern displays at Culloden and Hadrian’s Wall. Staying in the area we visited the site of the battle, its presence almost grudgingly acknowledged by the local authority. A monument, open fields and that’s about it. Yet shut your eyes and the sound of battle can be heard by anyone with a feel for history. In the daytime just fields that could be any old fields. But at dusk an indefinable presence takes over and the sound of battle cries are never far away.

We have wild camped near Castleton in the Peak District, an area particularly steeped in murder and ghostly happenings. Particularly famous is the tale of the young couple on their way to be married, who were waylaid, robbed and their bodies flung unmercifully down a nearby mineshaft. We regularly park up overnight within a hundred yards or so of the site of the grisly deed. It’s not for the faint hearted of a stormy night yet we never seen sight of the merest apparition I’m sorry to say. My wife, by the way is not so sorry.

There you have it. Goulies and ghosties are for believers or those wanting to believe. Old sceptics like myself have little time for such silliness. I used to say, ‘think ghoul, think fool.’ That is until a strange experience challenged my entrenched beliefs.

Some years ago we visited Lindisfarne, a favourite haunt if you’ll forgive the pun. It was a bright summer’s day, not a cloud in the sky or ghosts in the air. We had by then a new, all white English bull terrier by the name of Sam. The churchyard contains several thought provoking graves and I was keen to see them.

We walked down the path and through the lynch gate. That is, my wife and I walked, Sam refused point blank to enter the churchyard despite being coaxed gently then pulled less gently on his lead. Bystanders thought it hilarious, I was somewhat embarrassed. The result being my wife and Sam sat on a seat at the lynch gate whilst I wandered alone round the churchyard and adjoining abbey ruins.

Holiday over we returned home and the holiday memories faded. Come Christmas and I was present hunting. I espied the Atlas of Magical Britain by Janet and Colin Bord; an inspired choice for a son in law interested in apparitions, phantoms, spooks and sprites.

I happened to read the book prior to it being gift wrapped (My wife says I’m a cheapskate, too mean to buy two copies) and there it was.

By tradition the ghost of St Aiden is said to still haunt the abbey and the Island. Plus the amazing statement that a ghostly white dog is also said to haunt the abbey ruins.

Coincidence, maybe; perhaps dogs are more perceptive than humans or merely one daft dog wanted a rest. Whatever the answer, this is one old cynic who’s not so sure about it all as he used to be. What do you think?

January, Start as you Mean to Go On. Grumpy's Alternative News.

Ten completely unconnected things that caught my eye. I make no comment! I leave that to you, dear readers.
1  Primary school pupils aged 3 to 11  are being given anger management classes in Leeds in order to 'break the cycle of poor behaviour.'
2 The World Cancer Research Fund suggests most Britons do not understand the calorie content of everyday foods. The example they give is hommos!
3 Traffic wardens have a new computer system in Southend. Its a hand held device that takes note of all parked vehicles EXCEPT the numbers of councillors cars!

4 Regarding the discussion concerning the capping of benefits in Westminster there are at least 190 families getting over £61,000 in state benefits annually according to the Department for Work and Pensions.

5 You don't have to have a working brain to have a baby. Christopher Dixon from Sutton near Hull, babysitting his daughter drank 12 bottles of lager and left the child in her pram on the street. He got a twelve month suspended sentence.

6 The Metropolitan Police spent more than £35,000 on calls to the Speaking Clock in the last two years. Plus £200,000 to Directory Enquiries.

7 Each call to 101, the new non-emergency police number for victims of minor crimes will cost you 10 pence. It is hoped it will relieve the pressure on 999 calls.

8 A Massena motorist was arrested after failing to appear in court on a traffic charge. His four year old daughter told an enquiring policeman 'Daddy is scared and hiding in the attic.'

9 A woman went through Cardiff Airport with a hippopotamus foot in her luggage. Possible from an illegal poaching operation, she claimed she was unaware she needed a licence.

10 Two centuries after Switzerland was last at war the country is set to have a referendum on abolishing conscription. About one third of Swiss households have a firearm.

11 What has been described as 'disgusting, ugly, unsexy, reminiscent of the bark of an ill tempered baboon.' Evidently the sound some female tennis players make in 'full throttle' so to speak. Now the Women's Tennis Association is trying to do something about it. Concentrating on the next generation of course Maria Sharapova is ok then!

12 Finally ladies take a bow. An NCP study of 2,500 people parking found women better concerning many aspects. The general impression was that men were in too much of a hurry. Plus women were far more likely to reverse into a space, (the method approved by instructors.) It might take ladies longer, but they do it right. Well done, ladies!

There was a song many years ago, sang by Anthony Newley entitled 'Stop the World I Want to get Off.' I often think about it. Do strange cum mad people know they are strange cum mad. Rich, famous Antony Worrall Thompson shoplifts cheese and wine from his local Tesco. Not once but five times, and that was just the times he was caught on camera. 636 people were murdered in the last twelve months in the UK. Circumstances vary, the bit I find strangest is that 29 murderers released from prison in the last ten years have killed again. 324 hauliers were fined for watching DVD's whilst driving in France in 2010 and its on the increase. (One driver was ALSO cooking a meal on a portable gas stove.) A dentist in Massachusetts uses paper clips instead of stainless steel whilst doing root canal treatment. A couple from Blackpool have been charged with keeping a ten year old boy in a converted coal bunker. They have not entered a plea. (What do you plead in such a case.) Just a small selection of people who are different, behaviour that is 'different. Do people know when they are DIFFERENT?

Perhaps it wouldn't do for us all to be the same. But surely there's a limit. What do you think?