Archive for January 21st, 2005


What utter rubbish they produce nowadays… hardly worth the licence fee, even if you look on the amount spread over each day of the year! Big Brother! I ask you!

I am not going to go on about the rights or wrongs of charging everyone a fee to watch such down-market rubbish. OK, the occasional gem, usually well hidden away, suddenly makes watching “the box” worthwhile. But that is not my brief this evening.

Our politicians view television as a positive benefit – to themselves. Why? It’s very simple. Television keeps us glued to the box, every evening, in our own homes. It is debiltating and leaves us little energy for anything else.

Hands up all readers who feel like making love, for instance, after a whole evenings “box watching”. So it also keeps the population down, that’s a bonus.

But more important than that, television keeps us from meeting up with friends, discussing the government and how they behave. It keeps us from being active which may mean the fall of a particular party from power.

OK, I know that they say they are trying to get the population healthy, but if they really believed that they would put Ramblers Association membership on the NHS for those that really needed it!

We gained a lot more out of life, and I became a lot more active in the political world by doing a simple thing.

My wife and I would get the television list for the week on a Saturday and, using a yellow highlighter (yes, dear reader, you can use any other colour if you wish) , we would go through the week, highlighting just those programs we wished to watch. We would avoid “serial type programs” that forced us to watch on the same day every week so that we were always free to go out when we wanted. We stopped being ruled by the box.

Things have slipped a little of late so I shall suggest we try and start this up again.

If the entire population read this blog and started to do the same, the government would really sit up in alarm, and would probably order my death… Don’t get alarmed, dear reader, my tongue is well and truly in my cheek here! But they certainly wouldn’t love me!


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Cats are strange

When we bought our house three years ago we inherited the previous owners cat as they were moving to the far easy for a few years. Hong Kong, Japan and one or two other more unrecognisable places.

Nyang – “Out, damn spot! – photo by Andrew Taylor

The problem was, the cat was an RSPCA rescued cat, and had taken three years to get used to them and then had to get used to two new “tin-openers” as I read once they view us as. And, make no mistake about it, we do not own cats, they are the only ones in this equation who do any owning!

In addition to this trauma for poor pussy – her name is Nyang which, I am told, is Japanese for Miaow – during the first eight weeks the house would be full of builders, electricans, furniture fitters, plummers and, you name it. To try to give her continuity, I came to the house every day at 9am and stayed until 5pm so she was never alone during the day. This did also give me an added opportunity to ensure that the workers worked!

When we finally moved in, Nyang was very skittish and really didn’t want to know us. She gradually got used to Pam after the first year but it has taken her three years to get used to me. I think she had been illtreated by a man, and her fear of my feet indicates probably being kicked quite a lot.

Nyang – what IS that man playing at? – photo by Andrew Taylor

She won’t play and if I scratch her chair as if to play she goes into a huddle and won’t move. But she doesn’t run away from me often. When she does it is usually after she has been sleeping and suddenly finds me nearby. Poor thing had probably been dreaming.

She is a pretty thing, as you, dear reader, can observe. Sometimes I feel it would be nice to meet up with her illtreating owners! How can someone illtreat a pet? I don’t think I will ever understand.

I like cats as you can see from the following screensaver which is on my desktop at home.

Andrew’s screensaver, his name is Cecil! – photo by Andrew Taylor


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