Treats

I am one of millions who collects (as per normal retail visits) coupons or vouchers, but especially loyalty points on my shopping, because all those 0.00001p’s that would otherwise be pooled and creamed off by the companies - at a rate they have already costed into their profits - regardless of whether people use the schemes or not - all those points over time (five years for an average shopper) add up to buy that special meal for one, at christmas!

I have, however, of late become rather aghast (too ebenezerish?) at nectar and their wee-twee-all-so-cutesy use of the word "treat" that drips from overuse on their website.  As if we were all a tail, wagging with gusto at the latest crumb hurtling from on high.  So much so, that whenever I pop onto the website and my eyes are assaulted by those never-ending permutating "treats" you can spend your treaty points on, an imminent need to assume the bone-jarring wobbly knee porcelain hugging position, briefly takes over forcing me to flee the page. 

Perhaps I am becoming even more cynical than I thought (despite taking into consideration the visual appeal of imagining the crumpled remains of a boy-racer who whizzes by into the air as he becomes permanently detached from his bike, just as he goes hurtling past the stationary and quiet burnt out remains of a bus), whilst the idea of either a stone shack, igloo or wicker-basket in the middle of nowhere, continues to grow unabated.

But it doesn’t even end there! 

I pop onto yet another (once favourite) website - a supposed technical get your hands grubby with thermal grease - website, only to see that it too has succumbed to the tide!

“You’ll be getting a visual treat ... because it comes with a bright 15.6” screen and Intel GMA graphics” - yes morgan computers, this is you.

At some stage the continual compromise reaches the point where you feel like a sliver of a shadow of shadows gone befor- right!

Damnable boy-racer’s; never a pc, sps or traffic monitoring station around when you want one…  Where’s my bazooka!?…

Naturally, refusing a ride on a vmax would be the height of stubborn churlishness.  Cough.

Birthing who?

This is a slightly strong post for me; i presume the strength of my position arrives from been forced, whilst young, to participate in the visitation of the holy church – viewed, as it was by my parents, as necessary for “ensuring salvation of your immortal soul”; which still now leaves - after sloughing off many ideas i still find odd, contradictory and bizarre, simply watching and listening (however frothy), to those who would deny a woman such basic fundamental control over her own body, for the sake of religiosity (yet again) - an unsatisfactory familial ringing note.

Of course i fully agree with all those out there who want to stop women from having abortions. As long as you fully sign up to taking control of the ensuing offspring, financially, emotionally and, if needs be, to also physically bring up those children whom the mother may not be attached to if, for example, she has been raped, or drunk one to many and thought she had seen that non-existent condom, or even just after nine months had a change of heart.

There, that’s my ten shillings done with... Let me just clamber off my box, pack it away, and attach the label: not to be taken out before 2015!

Oh, but before i do. If you were wondering why i said “strong post,” in the opening sentence, and after reading thought, “call that strong?”  The following regurgitation is the subsumed version... “why do all you sanctimonious sons of bitches who crap on about pro-life, kill doctors, blah de blah, apparently can’t, or won’t, in any appreciable number, save the many millions of children who are orphaned, children who are sick, children who have no-one to look after them? How many of you brain-dead cretins rise up in fury at your governments who cosy up to, and practically hero worship at the altar of weapons manufacturers, who produce more weapons of mass destruction that kill more children and babies on an annual basis than any abortion doctor ever has. Actually, how many of you concerned-for-the-jelly lifers, have shaken your fists in fury at the almighty omnipresent narcissist who (if you believe he/she/it is indeed all of everything) allows the natural termination of many more millions of foetuses and babies, than any doctor or even weapons manufacturer come to that, ever has?”

So, there you have it. That was the initial angry blurb i was going to spout, before realising that calling people cretins would leave myself on not only very shaky ground, but probably no ground at all. At least it helped me decide to go with the far more rational second take instead.

Finally, before the box is safely locked away, i would probably turn a blind eye if, as in minority report (can i say minority report without it being taken as copyright infringement?), it could be proven without any shadow of a doubt, or that someone's being set up, that future boy-racer’s - with a propensity to only race around town, cause annoyance and overall general nuisance (unless heading for olympic glory) would be first for the flushing, swiftly followed by those who continually whine - life’s just too short.

It was a lovely cloud free day

If only europe had weighed in and helped iceland during its crisis the volcano wouldn't have spluttered into a rage and winds would have blown the nasty stuff westwards depositing it into the well deserved laps of wall street, if only.

Luckily it never, and instead the skies above london have enjoyed many cloud-free, contrail-free, nice and warm spring days.

Many of those held nothing but a crisp clear blueness, slightly dappled with a sprinkling hint of lolling haziness.

Oh its good to be back.

Well (and did you expect anything else) it would have been, had the buses had their filters clogged with crap and been unable to run; the boy-racers (all three of them) ended up in a ditch somewhere - instead of destroying what would otherwise have been a historic few days of peace and quite (naturally except for christmas day) in any year that I can remember since i was popped into the world.  Or is that just since i moved to the capital?

Oh well, back to the pictures.

Picture ‘a’ - with trails, picture ‘b’ without trails or even clouds.

Picture ‘a’ (at least six con trails)

Picture ‘b’; clear blue yonder

Amazing the difference a few days of clear con-free air can make.

But I suppose it will soon sadly come to an end.  Which is probably no bad thing (especially for those travelling); as if it continued it wouldn’t be too long before the bread fights, food fights, wiping one's bottom on the nearest trashy newspaper commenced, the spectre of rationing haunting the land - well haunting the poor at any rate. 

Hm, i wonder what a bit of rationing would do for my petite, slim-line, cargo-sized waist?