The Sturdy Soapbox

I'd have been better off with Bob the butcher instead of one I didn't know

I found a dental practice who were prepared to deal with welfare trash like me and went along at 10:40 this morning.

I hate going to the dentist and this visit was worse than even I had anticipated.  The waiting room was heaving and overpopulated with small children all misbehaving.

The front tooth I lost is a cap (crown) and the piece of tooth holding it in place had snapped.  The dentist however told me he can make me a new one, rather than have a push in falsie, which I would not like.

For the next week, I have a temporary one, which I don't think is the right size.  I heard him talking to one of the young girls who act as nurses (the place appears to be run on a shoestring) and she said they's got no size 12's.  The thing I have feels like a house brick. 

He injected inside my mouth just under my nose which hurt like hell and 8 hours later still feels uncomfortable possibly the combination of bruising and having too big a temporary wedged into place.

I know it's NHS, but there really is no call for treating someone like a piece of meat.  Whilst I would say that the populace of the waiting room was sub-human to say the least, they shouldn't be operating in that locality if they don't want to work on the rotten teeth of the great ethnic mixture that is Caldmore.

I was well pleased to get out of the surgery (and not looking forward to going back next week). 

Returning to my car, I had a 10 minute wait while this guy emptied bins from shops blocking me in.  I arrived home the worse for wear and in a particularly filthy mood.

Just to clarify things for my American brethren.  The dental practice is a private business who accepts NHS patients.  They then have to claim back the treatment costs (which I believe are less than they could charge a private paying punter).

As for my direct dealings with the NHS, I could not say a bad word against them.  I've been treated with care and courtesy.  If the NHS was dismantled tomorrow in favour of insurance based care like they have in the US, we'd notice the difference for sure.

Dental care in the UK however, seems to have fallen off the wagon and as for today's performance, I reckon I would have been better off with Bob the butcher and a tube of aeroplane glue.

Soapbox Snippet

Just having a sniff round, I discovered this little sideshow where you can type in your date of birth and it will tell you what happened on that day.

http://www.kakophone.com/kakorama/EN/index.php

Once you've done that, you might want to send a singing message to a friend.  OK, the voice sounds like Stephen Hawking, but it's a bit of lightweight fun.  Click this link. http://www.kakomessenger.com/

As you can see, I did one for Wally the Welder.

Can I get that pureed ?

It started yesterday morning, when I bit into a pork sandwich and heard a crack.  Hello I thought, there must be a small bone in the sliced pork.  I took a look, no bones.  Then I put my hand to my  mouth and found one of my top front teeth (which is a cap) was as loose as you like.

I've not been to the dentist in ages, I hate going  and only go when there is a problem to be fixed.  Consequently with all the changes with NHS dentistry in the UK (like there are too few dentists to treat NHS rather than private), I do not have a dentist.

I called NHS direct and they gave me three number to call.  No one could see me.  Two out of three didn't want to see me because I am NHS welfare trash.

There was one who would dirty his hands on welfare trash, but not for 10 days, unless the tooth fell out, when he might be able to fit me in.

Add to this the fact it's a bank holiday weekend  and his suggestion I give the tooh a tug to see if it will come out, but it wouldn't and I am stuck with a wobbly front tooth, which just because it is loose, is driving me nuts.

So now, I have to break or cut everything I eat, into little pieces and push them into the right hand side of my gob.  I thought it might be at least another 20 years before I had to eat in this way, as old age finally took hold, so I look upon this as practice.

Told Darlo my tale of woe and she suggested I try super glue.  I had actually thought of this, but I am pretty certain that super glue contains chemicals of the cyanates family (as in cyanide), so I am not going to risk it.

Then she suggested the PDSA (Peoples Dispensary for Sick Animals), by which time I realised not to bother looking here for any sympathy.

It got no better this morning when I made my weekly pilgrimage to see Bob the Butcher.  Firstly, everything I asked for, he enquire if I would like it cut up small and then when I decided on some corned beef, he whispered reassuringly to another customer, yes, that's nice and soft to chew.

Took OBC down to the boat yesterday afternoon.  Time for it's journey back home to it's winter moorings in Gloucestershire.  It's currently parked up in Padstow in  Cornwall, home of TV chef Rick Stein and his restaurants.

I passed the really posh sea food restaurant and very smart it is.  I was however a little disappointed with my first impressions of the place.  It was crowded and the streets smelled of fried food and not a pleasant smell either.  More like the smell you get when you pass a McDonalds of worse a KFC.

When OBC reads this, he will probably chastise me, because my opinion is made on just a first impression.  I did not go round the town or see it in the daylight, so I will defend my cruel comments by saying that I base my impressions, compared to Salcombe in  Devon, which is an extremely picturesque village.  Padstow just wasn't what I expected and I didn't see Rick either.

Of course, you build up pictures in your mind and being a small Cornish fishing village, I suppose I expected to find some bearded old twat sitting on the quayside playing a squeeze box.

I was the same on my first visit to New York.  It wasn't in black and white, I didn't see Woody Allen eating in the diners and I didn't see steam coming out of the drain covers.  Mind you, I did see (from the window of my stretch limo) a kid delivering the papers, chucking em on to the lawns of the houses, just like they did in the Superman comics when I was a kid.  Good job they don't deliver the milk and eggs like that.

Unusually busy Sunday

When I got up on Sunday morning, I wasn't planning to do anything or go anywhere.  Things tend to run that way when your bank balance can be measured in pence not pounds.

Lunchtime, I got an unexpected call from PMG who said he was about to arrive in town and was going to take me for a pint.  He was coming to collect one of his spawn from his daughter's house and had an hour before he was due.

We popped in to the Dog & Partridge at the top of my street.  Right on my doorstep, yet I hardly ever go in.

It's a clean and pleasant pub and they scored top marks by delivering a plate of freshly made samosas to the bar and told us to help ourselves.  They were filled with mildly spiced potato and peas and were utterly delicious.

Then I saw someone I've not seen in several years (not a local to this vicinity).  I was only thinking last week how long it had been since I'd seen this fellow.

Went home and truncated lunch to just a sandwich, seeing how I'd had two samosas.  Then I had a text from McBark.

Usually I only see him on a Sunday, but he asked if I would bring forward the little favour of taking his Saab ragtop somewhere, forward to Sunday rather than Tuesday.  I met up with him at 5:30 and then drove him home, where he ran me through a little exercise I need to do for him.

I thought I was being a bit of a wuss putting the gas fire on over the weekend (it has been chilly here in the UK), but when we got to the McBarkery, there was a roaring real fire going in one of the rooms, it looked great.

I tutored the good doctor on why he's been getting complaints from his colleagues and staff who don't have broadband.  He has a habit of just scanning something and sending it.  The last one was an A4 certicifate and it came out as a 4.5 Meg file.  So we had half an hour on reducing file sizes and an introduction to PDF.

Glad to see I've not lost my touch as a teacher.

Me babbies am doin well

It's just over three months since I rekindled my passion for carnivorous plants.

I started out with two pitcher plants (like the picture), one Cape Sundew and a venus flytrap.

The pitchers have established themselves the best, both are thriving.

The sundew is sort of in between, but there is new growth, which indicates it is happy with the conditions I provide for it, including rainwater care of Bob the butcher.

The VFT never did settle.  it has died back to one minuscule trap and I wonder if it will survive another month.

A short time after the original purchase, I bought three plants from a specialist grower on a forum I subscribe to.  I was disappointed with all of them.

The yellow pitcher plant arrived looking like a sprig of three spring onions, minus any pitchers.  The sundew looked like it have been through a meat mincer and the VFT arrived with all traps closed (minus flies) and several blackened ones.

Tender loving care and the VFT is fairing best of the three, I have three nice healthy traps and one in formation.  The sundew is showing signs of some new growth.  I am particularly delighted about this, because I really was inclined to chuck it in the bin and write the experience of buying privately (rather than from a nursery) off as a bad one.

As for Sarracenia flava (yellow pitcher plant).  It hasn't declined, but it isn't showing much sign of wanting to grow new pitchers to catch some food.

Occasionally, I get an invasion of meat flies in the kitchen and downstairs toilet, which hatch in the bins behind the shops at the rear of the building and get in through the ill fitting old sash cord windows.

I moved Sarracenia purpurea  on to the downstairs toilet window ledge and when I checked today, the pitchers are well stocked with fat juicy meat flies.  Christmas, Easter and birthday rolled into one for a carnivorous plant.

Considering the lack of sunshine we've had in the UK this summer, I am pretty pleased with the overall carnivorous project.  Next stage is to see them through the winter domancy period and then next spring, finances and circumstances permitting, increase the collection.

Of course, there's my own winter domancy to be considered too.

I discovered Average Jane's real identity

When I was a kid with a voracious appetite for American super hero comics, I realised how difficult it was for them to exist whilst keeping their identity hidden behind an ordinary character, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker etc.

Of course, everyday people were always stumbling over their secrets and today I too discovered the true identity of an internet super hero.

In my case, I didn't walk in on her as she was changing into her super hero costume or, see her melting steel with her laser vision.  I received a facebook friend request from someone I'd never heard of.

In fact I had forgotten I even had a Facebook account.  Sturdy Soapbox aside, I wouldn't count myself as much of a social networker, either online or in "real life".

I've had quite a week of minor online irritations, including a complete phony job offer which I could well do without, when I am looking for a job.  I also had an e mail from a lunatic re jobs, who sent a long list of questions to be answered, yet he claims he had read with interest, my cv (what a tosser).

So, this Facebook request bounced off me as yet another bloody loony. 

Politely I enquired as to why she wanted to "be my friend".  I was curious, as there is nothing whatsoever about me on the Facebook account.

The reply told me all and revealed AJ's true identity, who we'll call Betty Soo McGonagal, to protect her.

Don't worry Betty, your secret is safe with me, they can pull my fingernails out and everything and I won't tell !

Food scares and stupid people

Popped in to see Bob the butcher on Wednesday, intending to get some chicken breast to make tikka with, but I discovered he'd got none.

"I'll have to put some aside for you for Friday" he said, because with the recent outbreak of foot and mouth (cattle), everyone's switched to eating chicken, even though humans can't contract foot and mouth disease.

I was telling Darlo about it and she sniggered.  She said she remembered when Chernobyl exploded, the locals here stopped buying chicken Kiev (and she was deadly serious) and Asda had to reduce them.

As Forrest Gump said "Stupid is as stupid does".

Forty years ago today

It was forty years ago today, Sergeant Pepper didn't teach the band to play, but playwrite Joe Orton was battered to death by his lover Kenneth Halliwell in their bedsit in Noel Road Islington, before taking an overdose.

Joe's work was well ahead of its time and also considering the period, very risque and close to the bone.

Anyone not familiar with his work, should look out for the video / DVD of Entertaining Mr. Sloane http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0065700/  with Beryl Reid and Harry Andrews, a rib tickling black comedy.  My favourite was never made into a film, but was televised on the BBC, with Prunella Scales and her real life hubby Timothy West.

Just my opinion, but What the Butler Saw I believe to be his best work.  When he was killed, Joe was working on a screenplay for the Beatles.

His diaries were published under the title of "Prick up your ears" (a wordplay on the word ears) and is not for the faint hearted, but I can recommend the film of the same name, with a stirling cast which includes Gary Oldman (Joe) Alfred Molina (Kenneth) Vanessa Redgrave (Peggy Ramsey, Joe's agent) and Julie Walters as Joe's mum.

A couple of my favourite Orton lines include "They'll bury her in a Y shaped coffin" and in a letter to a very depressed Kenneth Williams "I've a big heart and my penis is not to be sniffed at either".

This from Wikepedia:

During the night of August 9, 1967, Halliwell bludgeoned the 34-year-old Orton to death with nine hammer blows to the head, and then committed suicide with an overdose of 22 Nembutal tablets washed down with the juice from a tin of grapefruit. Investigators determined that it was Halliwell who died first because Orton's body was still warm.

The Sunday Times magazine issue November 22, 1970 reported that on Saturday, August 5, four days before the murder, Joe went to the Chelsea Potter pub in the King's Road. He met friend Peter Nolan who later gave evidence at the inquest that Orton told him that he had another boyfriend, that he wanted finally to get rid of Halliwell but didn't know how to go about it.

The last person to speak to Halliwell was his doctor. He had arranged for a psychiatrist to see him the following morning. He spoke to Halliwell three times on the telephone. The last call was at 10 o'clock. Halliwell took the psychiatrist's address and said, "Don't worry, I'm feeling better now. I'll go and see the doctor tomorrow morning."

Halliwell had felt increasingly threatened and isolated by Orton's success, and had come to rely on anti-depressants and barbiturates. The bodies were discovered the following morning when a chauffeur arrived to take Orton to a meeting to discuss a screenplay he had written for the Beatles.

Halliwell left a suicide note, informing police that all would be explained if they read Orton's diaries, "especially the latter part". The diaries have since been published, but do not offer the promised insight. Oddly, the last eight days of Orton's life are missing, believed to have been taken by the Police.^{[citation needed]}

Joe Orton 1st jan 1933 - 9 Aug 1967

This one takes the biscuit

I doubt if there's anyone reading this, who hasn't at some time received an e mail from a bereaved African who's husband / father etc has been killed in a plane crash leaving a large sum of money in a secret bank account, which needs your help to liberate it.

They are known as 419 scams and in the main are confined to Africans. 

Imagine my surprise today, to receive this one purporting to be from a UK forces Major wanting to offload Iraq of some of its cash reerves, take a read:

Dear Friend,

I am MAJOR.JAMES ADAMS, I am a British soldier attached to UN peace Keeping force in Iraq, I Am the commanding officer of the First Battalion of the Royal Irish Regiment, as you may know everyday,there are several cases of insurgents attacks and suicide bombs
going on here.

We managed to Move funds belonging to some demisedpersons who were Attacked and killed through insurgent attacks. The total amount is US$25 Million dollars in cash. We want to move this money to you, so That you may keep our share for us unstill when we shall come  over to meet you. We will take 60%, my partner and I. You take 40%. No
strings attached, just help us move it out of Iraq, Iraq is a war zone.

We plan on using Diplomatic courier and shipping the money out in two large metallic Boxes, using diplomatic immunity. If you are interested I will send you the full details, my job is to find a good partner that We can trust and that will assist us. Can I trust you?
When you receive this letter, kindly send me an e-mail signifying your interest including your most confidential telephone/fax numbers for quick communication so your contact details. 
This business is risk free.
Here is the email address:jamesadams01@myway.com

Respectfully,

MAJOR.JAMES ADAMS

Look who's flogging cookware

Also on QCV the other day, I could hardly believe my eyes, when the slightly surreal American wrestling star complete with trunks and bleached white moustache, appeared and was flogging heavily a George Foreman style contact grill.

What did seem to evade him, was the fact he seemed oblivious to the fact he was supposed to be pitching the thing at grown ups and not his usual child fans and so, the woman assisting him by putting the raw burgers on the plates became "Tracy Mania", once cooked, he ripped into a burger with his teeth making all those cartoony chomp chomp noises Homer Simpson makes at mealtimes, but the ripper came when he attempted to close the sale, by leaning heavily on the added value of the book that comes with the gadget entitled Hogan knows Grillin, which he claimed contained "all the secrets", like maybe a little salt or chopped onion to bring out the flavour ? 

Don't know about you, but I think the Hulkster has definitley missed the boat trying to be the new face of grillin (in the wake of ex-boxer Foreman).  Maybe it's an indicator that his career too, has jumped the shark, with or without his cooking secrets.