Unremarkable Tree

A brief selection of waffle to end another period of neglectfulness toward the blog. Slightly busy at the moment to finish off the drafts

The picture above is a unremarkable tree was on the grounds of a former school now demolished which is now a community area / field. It was planted as a memorial to a boy who choked to death in the playground after swallowing a pen lid in 1977. I remember those pens and watching reports on Newsround of children choking to death over 10 years later before someone thought it might be a good idea to put a hole in the lid and try to limit such a needless loss of life.

People Will Always Need Plates

Its time for those A level results to be revealed and for pictures of attractive teenage girls to be published with equally attractive friends in a celebratory yet suggestively sapphic way. Extra points if you can get them to pose like that and leap in the air at the same time.

All of this is in no way tacky or slightly pervy. Oh no no no no...

Been there and my nerves were suitably shredded. I remember collecting my results often bumping into my time cohorts for what would be the final time and without ceremony I read my results ending one chapter and starting another in my life.

With youth unemployment at 20% and massive student debts you wonder what a chapter some face.But its not the end of the world if you haven't done well.

Those Offensive Questionnaires

Some things are worth getting angry an innocuous diversity questionnaire may not seem like one of them but Richenda Legge did. That horrible "Norfolk District Council sent her a customer survey with a series of highly personal questions" as the Mail reports.
Of an optional nature and used by public bodies across the country.

'But I really saw red when I read the question about my sexual orientation. There was a choice of heterosexual and straight, gay woman/lesbian, bi-sexual or ''other''.

The bastards.

"As it so happens I am happily married to Mr Legge.."

Good for you. So you can declare this to several million readers but not tick a box on a questionnaire.

'I found the questions offensive and unnecessary - and so I shredded and recycled it".

Or maybe the council wished to know who lived in their borough and used their services to, perhaps, better tailor their offering to the community they serve.


This was too good and followed up by another piece a few days later with the predictable rent-a-quote spokesman from the so called "Taxpayers Alliance". Although they have never spoken for this taxpayer and as Private Eye pointed out several senior members don't live here or pay UK tax.

Presumably they would also object to questions (or a "grilling") on a persons transsexual (sic) status. Which although the one I saw recently was clunkily worded have been added to several forms, I believe it a good thing on balance and if you don't agree save yourself the mere 10-15 seconds and leave it alone.

Four

So this pile of bloggins has survived another anniversary, its fourth, time for the annual apology

sorry some/ all entries have been crap

this I would have written yesterday if I wasn't organising the separate bins for recycling day and putting them out. Its kinda become a Monday ritual carefully removing the address from an envelope or piece of junk mail with Eastenders playing in the background.

I haven't regularly watched Coronation Street since the 90's yet even in this age of media proliferation I still have an awareness of the main characters, plots and the fact Mike Baldwin's no longer in it aided by the fact its on when I visit friends and relations. Hence I saw the big crash, given it was major anniversary and is still very profitable for ITV you would have thought they'd spend more than a fiver on effects.

Currently there seems a media brew-ha over the number of LGBT character, one of the complaints seems to be unrealism perhaps forgetting it is a soap opera and occasionally reality would make a crap 25 minutes of drama.


A few weeks ago I had a bit of free time in London and so I visited the British Library to see their small science-fiction exhibition because I'm interested in the genre and library's are cool. The curator(s) took a quite broad brush approach as opposed to the more narrow focus many purists would take to the subject and while some of the conclusions are hardly new there's some little titbit's that make it worth visiting.

I also got my hair cut for the first time in ages it was just getting far too long and unmanageable. After finding a hairdresser who would take me without an appointment I have something that looks better and more feminine if I wish it to be. I did try to take a quick self portrait sadly one was over exposed and on the other had me scowling.

That Cheap Smell Of Teenage Desperation

A bit of advice to teenage boys, don’t try to grow facial hair, seriously it just looks horrible. There will come a time when your voice deepens and your balls drop when the hair that sprouts of your face and neck can look very mature, masculine and on some folks provided its well groomed, attractive but until then that bum fluff with a bit of acne look does not make you look grown up or sexy. 

While I’m on adolescent boys, LYNX DOES NOT MASK YOUR BO, in fact it gives a more unpleasant funk than then the whiff of bad personnel hygiene alone. Lynx (or Axe as its known outside of the UK/ Ireland and a few other territories) is like the lad mag in that its pitched at young men and largely bought by school boys too young to buy proper "adult" mags.  The lad mag market has plummeted in recent years with the only titles bucking the trend seeming to be those aimed at health and fitness and I guess teens figuring out how to turn off the safe search while googleing. I can only hope they figure out other new concepts like bath, soap and a decent antiperspirant. 

The post title comes from an Andy Parsons line he used on Mock The Week; "Lynx: for that cheap teenage smell of desperation."

Yay And So On

Hello, haven’t been out recently a combination of a bad neck and visiting the family, the former involved spraying some Deep Heat on the affected area (I would be really useless in the event of an actual injury).  

The latter was made better by leaving the adults area and joining the assorted nieces and nephews in the other room. It was fathers day yesterday, yay for dads and so on, if you’re one of those who have performed the male parental role (the topic of transgender fathers springs to my mind and it is expanded upon elsewhere, I just feel I’d step on some third rail (did I mention I would be really useless in the event of an actual injury)?  So I’ll just say yay to you as well. My own dad doesn’t really go in for this entire card and a gift, and looking at a lot of it ranges from the tacky to the slightly sexist.

What card do you get if your father doesn’t like football, golf or cars? And is there a gap in the market for a crossdressing fathers day card?

Up On Nob Hill

On the top of the hill in Old Town toward The Lawns sits the part known as Nob Hill, a name which would have caused great amusement as a child alongside Benny Hill repeatedly slapping a bald man on the head. There are the ruins of what was known as “Swindon House” renamed in 1830 as “The Lawns,” the great house of the Goddard whose family name lives on as the name of the nearby pub.

Like the nearby Lydiard House, It fell into disrepair and had a spell housing American troops during the war. Unlike Lydiard it was declared unsafe and demolished though one can wander about the outline and ruins and wonder where you’re standing used to be.

There’s a range of habitat including a lake, woodland and a meadow which attracts a range of wildlife including several species of bat, apparently.

Growing Up Is Optional

So another year goes by.

Another birthday and here's Gus to perform one hop for every year,

hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop hop....

Oh dear, he seems to have collapsed though exhaustion.

From the first album I bought, which while not The Beautiful South's best album, Choke is a creditable choice and the cover art was brilliant.

I Know That You Want To Try

When I finally get round to writing something new on the blog I find Blogger has crashed. Which, like many, prompts me to consider moving to Wordpress or at the very least backing-up my published entries. A few days later and I still don't have anything new and exciting to write about, the usual job/ family/ tranny stresses and not a lot else. 

Not long from now I will in all likelihood be dreaming the details of which are almost always only of interest to the one whose had the dream. I tend to stumble across comments where mtf trans/ trans historied  people say they've dreamed they're a woman and that means its destiny. Maybe it is a subconscious signal but I'm wary of being guided by dreams, I've dreamt of eating a bacon roll and playing in central defence for Aston Villa (me neither, try to interpret that) I can say with confidence neither will happen even with Villa's position in the EPL table.

Although I did have a very pleasant lesbian dream which I haven't written off happening.

Here's a band I've revisited, whatever happened to Dubstar?

Ageing Celebrity Buying A Toffee Crisp

I made the mistake of flicking a copy of the Daily Mail while in the coffee shop which contained a frankly startling revelation.

I'm still reeling from the news a well known person looks different than they did 30/ 40/ 50 years ago. Apparently its something called ageing and I for one applaud all the newspapers and magazines for informing their readers week after week of this stunning new discovery by using celebrity examples. These articles are often so similar that I've suspected that they were written using a template and yesterday I was proved right when a file marked peopleageshocker.docx was accidentally forwarded to me, the gist goes as follows

[Insert name of well known person] NOT SO [insert reference or pun to what they are most famous for]

Back in the [swinging sixties/ glam seventies/ electric eighties] they [reference the field the person was successful and popular in] but today [essentially call them a slob].

(insert a small picture of person professionally taken, well lit and with make-up on, place hastily taken Paparazzi shot at a very unflattering angle of person 30/ 40/ 50 years later out walking dog or quickly popping to shop to buy a Toffee Crisp over at least half the article space).

The reality is that people age, admittedly some do so better than others helped by good diet, exercise, beauty regime and a bit of luck. If someone after a successful career wishes to not do that and put their feet up and have that second helping then that's their wish.

Not Angry, Just Disappointed

I probably have mellowed out a little over the past year over trans representation in the media my view seemed to have veered to a slightly parental 'I'm not angry, just disappointed' bent however the sketch based on newspaper report of Thai airline hiring "ladyboy" hostesses which featured on Russell Howard's Good News is worthy of complaint.

The sketch perpetuates negative and offensive images of transgender and in particular transsexuals which encourages transphobic abuse, ironically given the story was about an initiative designed to help a marginalised group in Thai society.

On a comedic level it was lazy stereotypical writing from writers who can do better.

Running On

The Whitehouse Bridge apparently it has the dubious distinction of being one of the most struck bridges in the country and despite awareness campaigns and some very prominent signs being installed some people still insist on ploughing on trying to get their vehicle under despite the very obvious evidence to the contrary. I was going past the area a while ago and a van driver was still try to drive on despite the roof scraping along the top of the bridge and drivers both behind and going past shouting out things, I couldn’t hear exactly what was said but I think it was along the lines of “I think that’s a jolly foolish endeavour you’re embarking upon” and “oh dear I think you should turn round” though it could be that the language was slightly more Anglo-Saxon. Unlike many bridges trains can still run over despite the strike and rather cool tests like this one in 1996 at 40 mph can be done.

Like that driver I’m sure there are things we continue to do despite all evidence to the contrary there’s plenty of research into the psychology of investors especially during bear markets that make them unwilling to ditch a dud clinging to a dead cat bounce as the sign that they might make their money back until its too late and the fear and panic hits whereby they swear they’ll never make the same mistakes again as they start buying flats to rent out. 

Mistakes? Never made one myself.

Meet Jet

Meet Jet. He's a rough and ready go-getting type of guy. Jet by name and Jet by nature, smooth and self assured, he with his good hair and designer stubble. He'll take credit for good ideas his minions came up with. He'll talk about 360 degree synergistic strategies. He'll list his strengths ending with making lurrrve at which point there'll be some god-awful boast about his penis-fencing prowess.

Yes I hate him as well.

Ask me to list my strengths and I'll um and er my weaknesses are quicker to mind and I could go on and on to the extent of making myself sound like a totally hopeless case. Its probably my fear of appearing to be bragging, a degree of modesty, some shyness and total dislike of any form of public speaking which holds me back.

There are some things, heck bugger modesty there are many things I am not just good at I'm bloody brilliant at them and I don't have to resort to using meaningless buzz words either.

Modesty is a great, almost laudable trait though there's a time and a place. If you don't promote yourself then chances are unless you've the budget for PR (even then the best promoter of yourself is almost always yourself) nobody will do it for you. If you don't knob heads like Jet will run the world.

Just A Bit Of Banter

Oh my word! I seem to have been transported back several decades to some office and I'm a secretary and that must be my boss.

SMACK!


He knows I love a playful pat on the bum really.

GIGGLES.

Sorry about that. Thankfully we are past the time when being a bit of a sexist dick can be dismissed as banter or playfulness. The fuss over Gray and Keys being two total twonks has abated, the anonymous Youtube poster with their job done disappears. Though it wasn't surprising that Sky had tolerated such outrageous behaviour when a just a few years ago they were advertising their sports news shows by how attractive their female presenters were.


Had a look on the recently released crime map which revealed that I live in a slightly dull area and my local PCSO has a magnificent moustache. It also revealed, and you might want to be prepared for this revelation, that the area where all the pubs and clubs are had a few incidents. So all in all money well spent because I never would have known that. What it didn't display was any context or detail, the uninitiated observer might just think it a total danger zone whereas its fine outside of a Friday or Saturday night.

BUZZZZZ

Oh I'll have to stop now the boss wants me to step into his office and take down some particulars.

Bear Up A Tree

I hope this year is treating you well so far. I imagine those exercise equipment bought are already gathering dust or being used as expensive clothes horses.

Not a lot has been going on there's been work and the inevitable allowing of the mind to wander resulting in me trying to fit (or crowbar) Wiltshire place names into film titles which is a variation of numerous Twitter memes admittedly. So a late afternoon war spent coming up with films like Scenes From A Marlborough, The Rodbourne Supremacy, The Ogbourne Ultimatum, Park South The Movie, Wild Wild Westbury. I could go on and on but you'll be mercifully delighted to hear, I wont.

The bear up the tree I photographed along the bridle path on my way home having suffered the rather soggy and cold weather and looking definitely worse for it. Makes a change from the symbol of modern Britain, a bag of dog poo being tied to a branch which always made of wonder why, especially when there were designated bins nearby. When I was growing up (and even in the mid 90's) there were no bins and owners were not as thoughtful. In Marlborough there was one such lane from a well-to-do part of town to the High Street which was so befouled it was commonly referred to as dog shit alley where you would be lucky not to end up with something horrible on your shoe.