The Frumplingtons

Top of the Pops is dead.

We watched the BBC lay it to rest last night just after teatime.

It was a tense and tearful time. We half expected it to leap out of its coffin and say, “Ha, fooled you all!”

But it was not to be.
READ MORE >>

Once again, we are spending the weekend at our Lincoln condo. And this morning, once the sun was up and the local drunks had retired to bed, we headed to town for our (ahem!) ’sundries’.

First stop was Boyes, which is a haberdaberdashery and household goods shoppe, situated in a retail unit just inside the main Co-op store. If you want a truly amazing shopping experience, that is the place to go: notwithstanding the searing temperatures in the surrounding streets (yes, Britain has been ‘enjoying’ a heatwave for most of the past month) it is actually hotter and the air is even stuffier once you are in there. I must emphasise that we have never had any problems with the shops or staff themselves. It is just that the stifling heat and cloying air put me in even more of a sweat than I was in already. Frumplingtons Handy Hint: Have a look at your thermostats, guys. You might need to turn them down a few notches from their current ‘Tropical’ setting.

What a pleasure it was then to head into Lincoln’s very own discount shampoo emporium, Savers. When it’s hot outside, I swear I could stand underneath their powerful cold air fans all day; total luxury. Anyhow, this morning, Shana had decided she wanted a change of shower gel. And she picked a bottle full of purple liquid, which, she said, scanning the ingredients, contained tea tree oil and lavender. Ah, the fresh aroma of ‘lavvy’; unbeatable. It’s even better than the legendary great [sic] smell of Brut.

Looking at the label once more when we had arrived home, Shana said, “It also says it’s suitable for vegans.” “Oh,” I said. “Does that mean there’s no beef in it?”

Beef or no beef, there was certainly no mistaking the tone of poor long-suffering Shana’s reply: “Stoopid!”

Me? Surely not.

Chris

The postman had a surprise for us this morning: he delivered our letters to the correct address. No, I’m joking about that; well, maybe half joking. But seriously, there was an unexpected parcel. Unexpected by me, that is. Shana, on the other hand, had secretly ordered a present for me on Sunday evening and had been bursting to tell me what it was. Fortunately, she only had to resist blurting it all out for two days.

Now, as my birthday was in June, and Christmas this year is in December, apparently my prezzie is a sort of combination gift for the two occasions. No new bike this year then. But what arrived today is loads better than any bike.

I am proud to announce that we now have our very own Emu.

We are/were both big fans of the late great Rod Hull and Emu. The way Emu would be all smiles one minute, and then would suddenly curl up his beak in anticipation of the inevitable all-out assault on his unsuspecting but willing victims. Brilliant.

If you want an Emu of your own, you’ll have to go to kapowgifts.com and put an order in. But be warned, they can be very dangerous animals.

Chris

We watched a programme on Channel Five last night, about the Apollo 11 mission that put the first men on the moon. Personally, I am a Moon Landings agnostic: I think it is possible it might be true, but it is equally plausible that it was all filmed in a Hollywood back lot. Either way, it’s all great entertainment.

Channel Five’s documentary revealed a series of bungles and problems. Mission Control were working with some seriously underpowered computers; a whole room full of NASA hardware had less oomph than a modern laptop. Then there was the bail-out plan, in case of anything going wrong with the launch. The astronauts had special training in how to make their escape. Only last night was it revealed that the abort procedures had been merely a sham: if anything had gone amiss the astronauts (Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Co.) would have had no chance of survival at all.

Once in space the Apollo 11 crew spotted a possible UFO flying alongside their rocket (c’mon guys, it was a weather balloon and you know it). And then there were the mysterious ‘Z-particles’ that penetrated the skin of the spacecraft and looked like lots of strange lights flitting all over the interior of the vehicle. Everyone on board was understandably terrified.

And when the heroes finally did land on the lunar surface they ended up way off course from where they were supposed to be. (Typical men; never ask for directions.) In those days though, there wasn’t all that sat-nav stuff that we have now. Hell, there was hardly even much sat. But at least the real Moon landing went better than the rehearsals on Earth: Armstrong had been almost killed when his practice vehicle had exploded, only managing to eject at the last second.

Having made their landing, the astronauts then couldn’t get out of the capsule because the air pressure was all wrong and the hatch wouldn’t open. Buzz (or it could have been Crackle or Pop, I suppose) had to bend the wall of the spacecraft backwards in order to effect an exit; not a hard task to perform though, as the outer wall was, we were told, only about as thick as two sheets of bacofoil.

Once on the Moon the astronauts had several tasks to perform. The most important of these being:

1. Plant a flag and claim the Moon for the USA.
2. Collect rock and soil samples for analysis.

With their mission accomplished the crew were ready to return to Earth. The only problem was that they had managed, during their clumsy exit from the capsule, to damage a circuit breaker or some other vital part of the craft. It was only by jamming his biro into the works that Buzz somehow miraculously contrived to get the engine working again. It almost sounded like a story in one of those old Boys’ Own comics. It was only the fact that Buzz saved the day with a pen that prevented the tale from lapsing into outright farce; if it had been that great cliche, the Swiss Army knife (or, even more humiliating, a pair of tights to fix the fan belt) I think all credulity would have been lost.

What surprises me though, what with all the things that had already gone wrong on this mission, is that the astronauts didn’t make the ultimate boo-boo. It’s the one every car driver has made at some point:

‘Buzz, have you seen that old shoebox full of rock and soil samples? I can’t find it anywhere.’

‘Shucks, Neil. I put it on the roof while I was busy sorting the engine out with my trusty five cent ballpoint pen. I thought you’d taken the box inside.’

‘Aw hell, Buzz. Why didn’t you tell me? I never even knew it was there. Now what’ll we do?’

Frankly, compared to the Apollo 11 mission, Wallace and Gromit in A Grand Day Out looked like true professionals.

Chris

Shana has come over all shy and is refusing to ‘blow her own trumpet’. I have therefore taken it upon myself to blow it for her. (So if you hear a horrible wheezing noise and intermittent bouts of coughing, you’ll know what it is.)

It’s all to do with a blog we started last autumn. (Yes indeed, we are a multi-blog household.) It’s called Earthquirks. It really started as a place to store fascinating snippets of news and information about the weather in Britain. We used to keep links of online news items, but the trouble with online newspapers is that, in many cases, they tended to disappear completely after a limited period. We wanted a more permanent record. For example, last autumn the Met Office were forecasting a really harsh winter for the UK. In the event, things weren’t nearly as bad as we had been led to think. But of course a year later most of us will have forgotten all that. Our theory was that we could then retrieve the relevant items from our archives and do one of the two following things:

1. Point to the Met Office with an undisguised look of glee on our chubby faces, and say ‘Ha ha! You got it wrong. Ha ha!’ (As if…)

Or:

2. Indicate that the British weather is far more complicated than any of us realised, and that it is all part of a global dynamic system. Bring in mention of ‘chaos theory’ and illustrate the whole lot with a two tasteful images: one of a butterfly flapping its wings; the other, of a tornado over the Texas panhandle. (Oh how I wish Lincolnshire had its own panhandle. It just sounds so fantastic, don’t you think?)

So, for the past year Earthquirks has ticked over, with a regular but unremarkable number of weekly visitors, all hoping that we might have the solution to coastal erosion and the answer to why the end of their garden has just disappeared into the sea. (Hello Happisburgh!)

And then yesterday there were a whole load of visitors all day long, coming from an online weather forum where someone had just mentioned Earthquirks in one of the latest threads.

Listen out for the wheezy trumpet. Here it comes now.

And who should show up in the visitor stats, but the UK Met Office. ‘Hey,’ I said to Shana. ‘You never know, it might even have been our Met Office hero, Daniel Corbett. You really ought to take a screenshot of the statistics and put them on the blog.’

And that was when Shana decided she wasn’t sure whether she should or not and I said I’d do it instead:

So just in case you ever have any doubts about the reliability of the BBC’s weather forecasts, at least you now know where they are getting their information from.

Chris

We are well aware that it has never died out, never been eradicated from the face of the earth as, for example, the dreaded smallpox is supposed to have been. But even so, there is always the feeling of horror whenever you hear about it. Bubonic plague. We know about its drastic consequences in 14th century England. We know that it was still around in the seventeenth century.

But to find it in 21st century Los Angeles? Well, that’s something you don’t expect. And yet the State Department of Health warned this week that people should take precautions to avoid bubonic plague infection when visiting rural areas. [Health Officials Issue Bubonic Plague Warning.]

Apparently there have been over forty cases of bubonic plague in humans in California since 1970. People are advised not to feed rodents (including those nice cuddly squirrels) at picnic areas. But here is the really scary bit, especially for cat owners:

People can also be exposed through infected cats, which are highly susceptible to the disease.

It kinda gives an extra frisson to the immortal line I tawt I taw a puddy tat a kweepin up on me….

But it’s not all bad news. Anti-plague precautions are easy to take. Our favourite is this:

wear long pants tucked into boot tops to reduce exposure to fleas

Firstly, Mint Sauce (the sheep at Frumplingtons Farm) does not have fleas.

And secondly, we always tuck our trousers (’pants’ indeed!) into our boot tops. Now it seems that there are also sound health reasons for doing it.

How long can it be before this classic Frumplingtons fashion hits the High Street?

Chris

Before I start, this isn’t the book I was reading that Chris referred to in the previous post!

As a child I always wanted to know how thinks worked, I wouldn’t accept things at face value. I dismantled several alarm clocks under cover of darkness, hoping to piece them back together before morning.

And so it is with violent crimes. It’s not the details of the crime I want to know about, it’s the events leading up to the crime, the life of the criminal that intrigues me. What was it in their life that tipped them over the edge.

‘Guilty By Reason of Insanity, Inside the Minds of Killers’ by Dorothy Otnow Lewis, MD, is one of those books that answered some of my questions.

Dorothy Otnow Lewis is a psychiatrist and together with her colleague Jonathan Pincus a neurologist, studies the minds of killers. The book details many cases, not just high profile ones. It is written with a sprinkling of humour, which lightens the otherwise dark subject it deals with.

This book is not only an intriguing insight into the criminal mind, but also the American justice system, or rather lack of. If you’re in favour of capital punishment, the details of ‘Old Sparky’ might just change your mind.

This quote is also interesting:

…Maybe the prospect of a life sentence would make Connecticut’s delinquents pause and think twice before pulling the trigger or reaching for a knife. Of couse, this change in the law had no such effect. The Donnas and Lee Annes and disadvantaged kids in tough sections of Connecticut’s inner cities did not read the newspapers, much less keep up with the finer points of the law as it applied to juveniles…

So deterrents don’t work, what is the alternative option? You’ll just have to read the book and reach your own conclusion.

Shana

Shana was engrossed in a book yesterday evening. It’s a horror novel. (I won’t reveal more details than that, in case she wants to review it when she finishes it.)

Hesitating for fear of interrupting her flow of concentration, I tentatively remarked, “Good book, is it?” (Honestly, with such an incisive questioning technique I reckon I could give Jeremy Paxman a run for his money.)

“Very good,” said Shana. “It’s set in the Chiltern hills.”

I instantly seized my chance to invoke (or ‘download’ if you prefer) the spirit of Reverend Spooner (1844-1930): “Ah, the Hilton Chills,” I said.

Shana tossed her head and turned her page. I took this for a good sign; not a derisive harrumph in sight. All I can think is it must be a darn good book.

Chris

According to the BBC, an inflatable spacecraft that could form the basis of a future space hotel has blasted into space:

The Genesis craft has been built by commercial company Bigelow Aerospace, set up by hotel tycoon Robert Bigelow.

The folded experimental module launched from Siberia on a converted Russian intercontinental ballistic missile.

Once the watermelon-shaped craft - based on a design discarded by Nasa - is safely established in orbit, it will be inflated to full size.

source: BBC News [Launch for inflatable spacecraft]

I don’t know about you, but some things are guaranteed to have us collapsing in fits of giggles. Cuckoo clocks are one thing. The other is inflatables. It immediately reminds you of things like the methane-filled dolls in an old episode of Only Fools and Horses; of summer fete bouncy castles; and of a traumatic time, about eighteen months ago, when our old sofa finally perished and in between mourning the loss of the old one and purchasing a replacement we, rather inadvisedly, opted to buy an inflatable suite. Yes, that’s right, not only a sofa but also a little inflatable chair. In a quite attractive shade of blue. From Argos (in case you’ve got an old catalogue and want to look up the item for yourself). Not only was it not designed to take anyone weighing in excess of about five stone; it also squeaked whenever you moved. And, as it did not come with its own mini air compressor, I must have lost a few pounds in weight from the sheer exertion of pumping it up. Never again! (Funny with hindsight though.)

So you can see why we might be a bit sceptical about an inflatable space hotel. But we do know someone who might fancy spending a week there when it’s up and running. I’m talking of Zedric, our very own inflatable alien who has his very own website, The Alien Chronicles, detailing his travels around the Universe. Sort of seems an appropriate kind of guest for a blow-up hotel, we think.

I still have a few doubts though. What if the hotel develops a slow leak? Or a fast one? It could be like letting the air out of a balloon all at once: one long farting noise and the hotel would fly all the way to Pluto at the speed of light. Not a pleasant thought.

Not that any of this is going to affect me personally though. The only time I’m likely to be in orbit is if I step in a piece of discarded chewing gum.

Ground control to Major Tom…

Chris

The hills are alive…but maybe not for much longer. According to a story in today’s Independent,

Thousands of Swiss are flocking to one of the country’s most famous mountains to catch a last glimpse of its dramatic outline, before a slab of rock weighing millions of tons breaks off from its eastern face and falls into the valleys below.

The Eiger, one of Europe’s most treacherous peaks, has been crumbling at an almost visible rate for the past month and experts believe it is only a matter of days before five million tons of rock come crashing down.

source: The Independent
(Swiss tourists flock to watch Eiger mountain crumble into valley)

Well, that should stop the b*ggers yodelling.

But seriously, the piece of rock that is poised to come hurtling down the hillside is about the size of not one, but two Empire State Buildings. The Eiger, it seems, is as full of holes as the proverbial piece of Swiss cheese:

A fissure … first spotted at the beginning of June has grown from eight inches to more than 16ft.

Climate change has inevitably been cited as the reason for this Swiss drama. The glacier that was supporting this part of the mountain is melting due to high temperatures and so on and so forth.

I’ll risk it for a Swisskit

But, exciting as it may be to see the collapse of such an awesome mountain as the Eiger, most people wouldn’t want to get too close. Even so, local restaurant and guesthouse, the Berghaus Bäregg is said to be packed with sightseers keen to get as near to the action as possible. I wouldn’t fancy it myself though. Warning signs have been put up all round the local area, saying that when the crash comes, it will feel like an earthquake. People will be deafened by the noise and virtually blinded by the resulting dust and debris. Experts are quoted, however, as saying that “this is not a reason to panic”. Actually, they are quite correct. It is not a reason to panic. It is, though, a bloody good reason for staying at home.

Unless, of course, your home happens to be at the foot of the Eiger.

Chris