Now I'm Not One to Complain, But...

Indeed I am not a complaining type, I usually just sit and bubble quietly while the world walks all over me, however I have so many things to catch up with here, caused by illness with no sympathy, too much work and a great deal of sloth - I have no idea how he got in, he was too fast for me - and now things have got worse.
Yesterday meant a long day at the museum for the latest Exhibition Day, which went very well thanks for asking, thousands came,or it looked like thousands, and all left very happy indeed.  Several wee workshops were put on and the kids and adults loved them!  Not one grumble through the day bar my stomach about 1:30 but that was expected.

This Mad Scientist had the kids in stitches and the place stinking with burnt substances.  From balloons flying about to melting things, great explosions and flashes of flame she had the kids eating out of her hands.  It was fun, laughter filled the place and the mums and dads learnt almost but not quite as much as the kids.
Next door they experimented with smell, taste, and senses.  I ma not quite sure what was in the wee plastic containers they all took away so I stayed well clear, I don't trust these people.  The main hall was filled with kids learning how to digitise stuff on the laptop.  If we had not been so busy we all wanted to join that one and none of us could, but we didn't complain.... 
However I arrived home, knees aching, having missed the football for the most part and discovered we had lost three nil anyway, burnt my dinner, discovered the microwave giving problems and then it died before I had finished making my dinner!  Grrrr!
However luck was in as my dinner survived with a bit off mucking around and I found Raith Rovers playing Hibernian on BBC Alba!  How lovely to watch a game in which the commentators do not irritate with meaningless words!  BBC Alba is the Gaelic channel for the north of Scotland and as the commentators are speaking thus it merely fills the background and allows the viewer to view uninterrupted by codswallop!  It also helps if wee Hibernian lose by two goals to nil!   Oh joy!  
My Hibby mate has not answered my tweets I hope he has not done anything silly...?

Today, as I nursed my weak knees and rested my brittle bones I managed to find a decent football game in the Dull, Dreich Dundee Derby Day game at half past twelve.  This was far superior to the dreich Manchester derby.  The sooner Van Gall goes the better I say.
However I suddenly thought Sainsburys sometimes do microwaves!  It was quiet so I rushed up there hoping they had one as they were close by and a cheap microwave would be easy to carry home from the shop.  Of course they are quite heavy and in the box heavier but Sainburys are only five minutes up the road.  
I rushed slowly up the road and discovered their cheap microwave, the same as my old one, they are all the same no matter what name appears on them, I discovered their one was £40!  Blow that as I had checked the more distant Argos had one at £36.However I wandered on to Tesco and found a heavy box there full of cheap microwave oven for £35.  Good enough for me I say, the last one lasted about four years and if I remember right cost £29.  
However after lugging it home from Argos that day, unpacking it, starting it up I discovered the blessed thing was bust!  I lugged it back, slower than I brought it, and dumped it somewhat heavily on the desk while panting my complaint.  As I recall the lass did not refund or replace but encouraged me to spend a pound or two more on a 'better' one and so I did while looking in her eyes all the time.  Then I again lugged the even heavier one back down the road.  
I am not fit I said to myself, and I as always, was right.
Now heavier than then, me not the oven, as fit as a corpse with lumbago I paid for my treasure without which I would starve and clambered shakily down the steps towards the door.  Why do they have an escalator upwards but not downwards I ask?  I trudged past the stares from the drunks at the pub on the corner, ensuring I walked upright and briskly as I did so.  Round the corner I changed position and began to wheeze somewhat.  As I passed Sainsburys people began to look and having reached the corner opposite I heard one man ask where that steam engine was.  
Home was reached just before the defibrillator was called for and I sat for a while aching and wondering how some time in the past I used to lug things like this up and down stairs in all sorts of houses.  Heavy goods were easily shifted and now I struggle to open bottles of Lucozade!  
If the muscles allow I will once again begin exercising tomorrow, unless the knees still play up from Saturday let alone today.

The good news that Ian Duncan Smith has walked out of the government because 'Cutting benefits off the poor and disabled while increasing tax cuts for the rich was not acceptable.'  Such warm words which we all agree with.
Hold on, this is the man who put through all these benefits cuts over the past six years.  The man who's department sent letters to people unable to leave their bed since birth 18 years before that they must report for work or lose money!  Some say 2000 have been told they are fit to work and died within a week!  Other claim thousands more have died or lost great sums of money, affecting their food and trapping them indoors because money has been taken from them.  The man who thrust through the 'robbing the poor to pay the rich' was Ian Duncan Smith.  An item in the 'Telegraph' indicates Prime Minister Cameron and Chancellor Osborne had encouraged IDS to mail everyone telling them to continue with the cuts and therefore put the blame on him, so IDS waked out.  Stories in the papers are of course planted by MPs and who planted that one?  So many tales and so many lies.
However this has blown Chancellor Osborne out of the water.  His decision to cut benefits again will have to be changed, Cameron is desperate to separate himself from anything that makes life difficult and both and in real trouble now.  Good isn't it?
This of course has lots to do with the EU referendum!  Politicians playing games with one another while Rome burns, if that is the right analogy, and we have to read between the lines as to the truth. Here of course the fun is the Conservative Party, the one determined to eliminate all poor, weak. sick or any other people who did not attend Public School and go horse riding with David Cameron from the nation.  Now they are riven in two with a divide growing daily.  Political enemies are never on the other side of the chamber, they are always behind you!

   

How to be an idiot No 48

.

Kitchens


For the idiot the kitchen is one of the wonders of the world! Here he will find so many areas in which to make his mark that he may well begin hyperventilating at the thought of what lies before him. Let us notice how an idiot deals with the microwave. He, his spouse or indeed his nurse, has produced some excellent home made soup. All our hero has to do is place this in the microwave oven to reheat the stuff. Simple enough! Well no actually. You see  a suitable dish is required for this job and Mr Idiot has already placed some soup into a china bowl and watched as this cracked apart and flooded the microwave with his dinner. Next he used one of those tinfoil ones that hunks of expensive meat arrive in. This resulted in an electrical storm such as those usually found only in the Serengeti National Park! However after much practice and a few words of advice from the woman in his life (Why isn't she doing this? That's what she is there for!) he chooses a suitable container, sets the time dial and stands back. Several minutes later he anxiously removes his soup and begins eating. This quickly ends as he discovers that he has set the time dial but not the temperature and is now eating tepid soup. He rushes back to the brute and inserts the soup somewhat angrily into the thing and sets both time and temperature correctly! Just to ensure success he adds another minute and retires grumping as he does so. Hunger is beginning to produce some irritability it appears. As the 'ping' sounds he rushes to the oven, grabs the door open and retrieves the soup. He does this in such a manner as to allow his now, 'piping hot' lunch to spill out and cover his the fingers! His screaming of unholy oaths encourages the container to be dropped onto the floor followed quickly by the contents. Standing by the freezer, his hand thrust inside in an effort to lessen the searing pain against the ice, he contemplates both the mess on the floor and his beloveds "Have an accident?" 
"No thanks, I already have one," he mumbles from behind the freezer door.
The red marks on the fingers disappear after a few weeks.


Ah, the freezer! While we have our hand inside it is noticeable that the ice has indeed began to clog the freezer cabinet. This calls for Idiot once more to show his qualities. The idiot looks upon such work as a bit of a nuisance as he has better things to waste his life upon. However to ensure the fridge freezer runs smoothly it must be defrosted every so often, about once every ten years or so, and now is the time to do this! He has in his mind a freezer compartment completely cleared of ice, the contents aligned in a practical order, and the machine running with a smooth gentle burr throughout the day. He of course deludes himself!
Mrs Idiot, not an idiot in herself but daft enough to end up with him, she would tackle this problem in a simple manner, after all that is one of her jobs innit? She who must be obeyed would have ensured the contents of the freezer compartment were allowed to run down before the operation began, she then would switch of the freezer, leave the door open for thirty minutes and then, in a smooth swift manner, remove the ice which has by now gathered on the floor of the compartment. This naturally is too much for an idiot.


His first step is to empty out the many frozen items found within. The second is to run around the floor retrieving the frozen peas that were in the upside down bag at the front, and also put back those garlic bread lumps that she insists on feeding him.  All items are dumped on top of the freezer cabinet in a higgledy piggledy fashion These include that green odd shaped thing  he found in the corner whatever that was! 
Work may now begin.
The idiot, who may or may not have switched the thing off, will grab a knife or some other dangerously sharp object and attack with a will the ice flows sufficient to worry shipping in the north Atlantic that has been allowed to dominate the brute! He cuts and thrusts with this impliment, shaking the cabinet and within minutes the floor is once again covered with frozen peas, hamburgers, and frozen peppers. These escapees will take several days to collect having found the strangest of places to run into, and even then will be discovered many weeks hence, usually sqashed and smelly, under his slippers. The pies which have removed themselves will be returned to, probably, their boxes whether covered with dust or not. With today's shop bought pies this may well make them more nutritious!


The chasing of the peas will not introduce any wisdom into our hero's mind. He will continue to cut and stab at the ice which slowly is beginning to give way, just as the remnants of  contents atop the freezer are also giving way and colapsing around the floor once again. His efforts to catch them as they fall enables the idiot to knock over the bottles at the side, breaking one and allowing the sauce therein to mix well with the floor beneath. While doing this the knife will enter under his left thumb and the red stain may well remain where it lands for some time before noticed. Much, much later, the ice removed, the floor mopped, the freezer is switched on again, that's if it had been off in the first place. The idiot has a large lunch. This is not because he requires one after his exertions but because he has taken so long to do the job that that most of the contents have begun to thaw and must be used immediately! His dealing with indigestion will be dealt with elsewhere!


Shall we regale you with his ability to place plastic items on the electric hob and turn on the wrong switch? Do you wish to know about his desperate opening of windows and doors to remove the acrid taste of plastic from the home? Is there really a need to detail the long and arduous struggle to replace the melted kettle, that bowl he never understood the purpose off, or his scraping the hot plastic from the (new) hob surfaces? I don't think so. Mr Idiot and his beloved, that's her holding a half empty (cheap) vodka bottle in one hand and a golf club in the other, need to be left alone to discuss his desire to be helpful around the house. I think it better we left them alone to do this, don't you?

.

Microwave

Early yesterday morning, having breakfasted on Nan bread left over from Christmas Day,  I slithered my way to Tesco’s on the icy pavements to check out the Microwaves. My aged and somewhat foul machine is falling apart from the inside and desperately required replacing. I noted the prices and observed the cheapest at £32.95 for a basic machine of 700 watts, or 'D' capacity, enough to meet my needs. I headed for Argos and here I purchased, for a couple of pounds less than the Tesco’s price, the same machine under a different name. The last time I ventured into Argos I waited so long I was tempted to lie on the counter and play dead! In the store behind headless chickens ran about while a queue stood expectantly as the disembodied voice cheerily announced "Number two hundred and seventy five to your collection point please," all the while ignoring the fact that number sixty eight was still waiting! The lass at the till that day noticed the people waiting to be served by her, she also noticed those awaiting delivery of their items, which appeared regularly as a headless chicken dumped them on the shelf, and she took immediate action, she disappeared! This time a bright young thing took my money, almost immediately, another stamped the ticket and off I went, within minutes! Wow!

I carried this brute home, a huge distance for one as fit as I, walking on the cleared road to avoid the ice bound pavements. The next few hours were spent struggling to get it out of the box and removing the old one. I then tested the thing with a cup of water. It worked! Hooray! I noted some condensation on the front glass but this appeared to have no effect so placing a bowl of Flanders Soup' inside it ran happily for ten minutes. Shortly thereafter I then placed the small Xmas pudding inside, switched it on and Phut! It said, and died! Ten minutes worth and the guarantee was for a full year! Later I realised, as I ought to have done immediately, that the glass ought not to contain condensation as electric machines do not require it. I later repacked the brute and staggered back to Argos wondering why the thing was heavier once repacked than it had been carrying it home? I dumped it on the counter ans wheezed my complaint only to be told to take it "over there." I left it and wandered 'over there' noticing the lassie had brought the box round for me, smirking at my lying on the floor on all fours attempting to get my breath back. The bright young lass (where do they all come from, they appear to be missing in such shops usually)    convinced me to choose a different version. This in fact turned out to be a cheaper version in stainless steel (we shall soon see how stainless this remains) looks much better! £27.95 I ended up paying, having £2 whole pounds given back to me! Hooray! Once again carrying the thing home was lighter than taking the other back. Why?   

Naturally as I woke this morning I ached all over. Muscles that are usually 'resting' do not like Lactic acid or whatever it is running around inside them. I tend to agree with them at the moment. Why me? Why can I never buy things in a straight forward manner? It's just a good thing that I am not one of those miserable people that complain a lot, for if I did folks would here about it I am sure.

Motor Ward

Top Gear, that excellent BBC programme, took it upon themselves to attempt to recreate the journey of the Magi (that's the three wise men to you) from the East to Bethlehem. It is fair to say that this programme was as biblically accurate as much of the Church of England's preaching, so that gives an indication of how far from known facts they were! However it was once again a programme worth watching. The fear of being shot in Iraq was somewhat exaggerated but an excuse to run around in a fast car chased by a helicopter was typical Clarkson. However the plane failing to land and going round again was a delight to watch. The problems on such trips are always magnified, although James banging his head and being rendered unconscious was not planned, and if nothing else I enjoyed a view of the countries they passed through that is not often given by news coverage. James's bang on the head was worrying for a while, but not as much as three men dressed in Burqas driving into Damascus. Why they were not shot as suspected suicide bombers I cannot tell. Some may well have decided Clarkson was being rude while imitating a cut down Jesus at the Sea of Galilee but I don't. Nor did the final ending upset as I burst out laughing in a way I haven't for some time. This was the usual 'Top Gear' send up, funny and cheeky but not offensive, quite unusual for Clarkson right enough! Possibly you will be able to access the BBC IP site and find the programme 'The Three Wise Men.'  It's worth a look!






.