So after the e-mails I phoned using my dying mobile phone. I ensured I charged the battery as I expected to listen to "Your call is important to us," several times before getting anywhere. This indeed occurred and starting from being "Seventh" in the queue I soon moved up to "2nd," although I was beginning not to care when the man in Bangalore answered. We went through the whole thing again, he following his script well, and in due course sent me on to the 'Technical' people. I can well understand a need for one to remove all the simple fault, check the connections, pay your bill etc, so I happily (ha!) waited as the music played. What the music was I know not, the sound distorting on the phone, although it may have distorted over the ten thousand miles it was travelling of course. Eventually a lovely young Indian women cheerfully and pleasantly went through the script and tested the line. "There is a fault on the line," she told me helpfully, and asked of she ought to call my mobile while she did what she had to do. I had informed her the battery would run out but happily (again) decided to wait the "two or three" minutes this would take. On minute later the battery died! She never called back, I fear to do so especially during the day, and I have now no idea if the thing will be fixed or not. The staff were indeed friendly and efficient but I wondered how they cope with strong accents? I speak clearly to such as they, my time in London taught me this when dealing with 'Foreign Johnny's,' but upset folks from Newcastle or Cornwall may not be so considerate! At the moment the Internet works, but does collapse at busy times or stops for no reason, the phone remains dead. Ah well another 24 hours may well explain it all, possibly.
As I type my spelling mistakes I am listening to the 'BBC Democracy Live' programme offering live debates from the UK House of Commons. I like this site as it allows us to watch Parliament at work both in the House and in Commons Committees. We are also offered the Scots Parliament, Welsh Assembly and the European Parliament (for what that's worth) and within a few minutes we can find live, or recorded, all our politicians lying in their teeth in every part of the nation and indeed in Europe! This is indeed a find! The debates never vary, the government defends, the opposition attempts to pick faults, the 'other side' is always in the wrong and facts are used to support any argument! The best occasions are when the House is almost empty and a Bill, of major or minor importance, is being debated by those with a particular interest in it. Often these can be knowledgeable or just plain funny! The wit and friendliness of many debates are rarely reported however I find some better than the usual TV offerings. Others of course debate long and hard on Bills of major importance and very serious indeed. Today we debate the NHS, "The other side was at fault." "Oh no it wasn't, you are." Money amounts, in the millions, are quoted by both sides, but in the end we know the Tories will kill of the NHS if they can, and the 'other side' (Labour) want to save NHS costs also. In the end we lose out as hospitals close, queues lengthen, and those office workers I once worked amongst still squander millions with no thought for patients anywhere! What is the answer? The Tories want to sell it, Labour keep it (Tony Blair would sell it also as he is well off!) but cut costs. In short none of them know what to do! In the end ideology, not facts, will tell.
Turner painted this in his 'impressionist style. Some tell me his paintings like this of the later part of his career are fabulous but I wonder? I went to the gallery some years ago and saw many of his pictures 'live' and it appeared to my mind that in the end he had just got to much yellow and white paint delivered and didn't wish to waste it. As each was produced they became more or less white and yellow mixtures with added darker blobs. On a decent day I get similar experiences simply by removing my glasses. This does not give me an 'impression' of the world around me it just leaves me falling over litter bins and park benches. While I admired much of Turners work and I love the bright colours of such a painting I must wonder if it deserves the respect it receives, although much of that comes from fawning critics who don't wish to be different from the crowd. I would rather see the train, the sky, and the colours. My twisted and perverse brain can accommodate these and supply a suitable impression when required. What say you?
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