The Frumplingtons

This has got to be the Quote of the Week: business expert Theo Paphitis on this week’s Dragons’ Den came face to face with the world’s biggest optimist, who was trying to get fifty thousand smackeroonies of investment in — wait for it — a business producing plastic protectors to stop cucumbers from going mouldy (yes, honestly). Theo was a little less than impressed:

It’s about as much use as a pair of rubber lips on a woodpecker!

said Theo. Fellow Dragon, ice-cream zillionaire Duncan Ballantyne, was equally sceptical; he doesn’t really have to say a word; his scowling facial expressions are priceless.

Shana’s not a big fan of the Den, but I love it. In fact, I’ve already got a great idea that I’m just dying to pitch to the Dragons. I don’t want to give too much away in advance but I can reveal that it involves both chocolate and fireguards. Wonder what they’ll make of that...

Chris

We were out earlier today, busy snapping away, taking more photos of local buildings. It looked as if someone had been having a smashing time along the High Street; a couple of shops had some rather nasty damage to their front windows; the Orange mobile phone shop even had a couple of their glass door panels boarded up. At least, with the number of CCTV cameras covering the area, we assume the culprits will be found before long. (Gosh, aren’t we optimistic?)

The real, irreparable vandalism, however, was done long ago, when the ground floor (and in some cases the first floor as well) was ripped out of some magnificent Victorian buildings, to be replaced with modern commercial homogenous shopfronts. There are two examples in particular along Lincoln’s High Street: one is now occupied by a fashion shop (?) called Envy, and it looks as if it was hastily gutted. The other building hosts another clothes shop, River Island (situated down near the crossing towards the lower end of the High Street) and has been given a much more sympathetic treatment; the ground floor frontage is not identical to the upper floors but is at least in keeping with them.

Chris

We’ve just gotta see this. It really ought to be recognized as an Olympic sport.

The eccentric British sport of hurling wellington boots — more commonly known as ‘welly wanging’ — has been given a mechanical makeover by scientists at Aberystwyth University. Experts have built a machine capable of propelling a welly up to 262ft.

The team took an engine from a concrete mixer and a gearbox from a Citroen 2CV and devised the robotic “wanger” for a TV programme.

On 30 August, the university team’s welly wanger will line up against 15 other similar machines in Channel 4’s Scrapheap Challenge Roadshow in Dorset. The event will be aired on TV next spring.

source: BBC News [Experts make robotic welly wanger]

Chris

Ever been to Lincoln? (That’s the real Lincoln that I’m talking about. The one in Lincolnshire, UK.) Then you might recognize the building in our picture.

What, you’ve never seen it before?

Well, the photo is one of Lincoln’s ‘hidden gems’; they are not literally hidden, but they are overlooked because most people focus on just the castle and the cathedral. A larger version of this and others can be found in our collection of Lincoln Pix, which we have only just started, but which is sure to grow to a truly enormous size. This particular image is of the upper frontage of the Halifax building society in Lincoln’s Silver Street.

Tourists to Lincoln all know about the cathedral and the castle, but they don’t see any of our other architectural delights because they are too busy gawping in shop windows (or pretending they are in Paris and slurping their skinny lattes outside the cafes in the High Street) to notice anything else.

If necessity is the mother of invention, then, in our case, frustration was at least part of the reason for Lincoln Pix. That, and a preference for older buildings over more modern commercial styles. After hours of searching for Lincoln images online and finding very little apart from the obvious stuff, we finally got our own camera and decided to do the job ourselves.

So, if you’ve been to Lincoln and you think you’ve seen it all, think again. Why not come back and take another look?

Chris

There was a story in the news yesterday about mounted police in Nottinghamshire. The county’s Mounties (and if that ain’t poetical serendipity, I don’t know what is) are looking for sponsorship, presumably so they can carry on buying carrots and sugar lumps to feed their horses.

My eyes twinkled and cash registers kerchinged in my head. “This could be our big chance,” I said to Shana, as I imagined copious amounts of product placement, and The Frumplingtons logo displayed prominently on every horse in the Force. “We could supply every police horse with Frumplingtons-branded sheepskin nosebands.”

Almost immediately, we heard the entrance gate to our top field rattling, as if someone (or something?) was trying to get in. Or out. This was followed by a plaintive bleating. Shana and I turned to each other; “Mint Sauce!” we exclaimed. “He must have heard.”

Looks as if that idea’s a non-starter, then.

Chris

Recently, after not doing it for many years, Shana has taken up cross-stitch again. She is currently halfway through working on a picture of a dragon. I was joshing a bit earlier this morning, when I suggested that maybe her next project should be a cross-stitch version of The Haywain. (Like Queen Victoria, Shana was not amused.)

I have a little art project of my own too at the moment. I won’t reveal the exact nature of it; although we might post a photo at some as yet undefined point in the future.

One thing I need for this secret art thing is a board. Maybe something the size of a cork notice board, but a bit thicker. Like a small canvas of the sort that painters would use.

“Oh, they’re ten a penny at [insert name of art supplies shop here],” said Shana. “They’re about a pound each, if I remember correctly.”

I’m even more puzzled now. Ten a penny? A pound each? Can’t both be right, can they? I fear one of us will have to retake the Frumplingtons accountancy exams, and soon.

Chris

There has been much speculation on the Internet about the alleged sightings of triangular UFO’s, like the one below.

The Frumplingtons received a secret copy of What’s On TV which contained the following advert:

So, Triangular UFO Mystery Solved.

Shana

In the old days before television, radio and even proper newspapers, the citizens of this country used to get their news from something called the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. (None of that Daily Sudoku rubbish back then, I’ll bet.)

And, as all students of history will know, there was one entry in, oh, whatever year it was, that said simply, Nothing happened this year.

I had the distinct feeling, watching BBC’s early evening news tonight, that nothing had happened today. All they could find to talk about was the looming obesity epidemic, which, as far as we can remember, has been looming for…well, as long as we can remember.

Having succeeded in stigmatising smokers (now banned from all pubs up and down the land) and gum chewers, they have now set their sights on eaters; a Minister for Fitness has just been appointed to tackle the obesity problem.

Apparently, in four years’ time it is expected that there will be more than thirteen million obese adults in the UK. (In a reversal of the old joke about China during the Cold War years of the 1970s, if us thirteen million tubby Brits all jump up and down at the same time, it could cause a tidal wave will engulf the eastern seaboard of the USA.)

If you saw us, you wouldn’t really describe The Frumplingtons as obese. A tad overweight, admittedly. And we might tend towards the sedentary at times. But when we go out, we walk everywhere without getting out of breath, and we don’t eat excessive amounts of red meat; in fact, we really don’t eat much meat at all. I stopped smoking over three years ago, and Shana can make half an ounce of tobacco last about a week. (If only I could persuade her to stop spitting it on the floor and use the spittoon instead.)

Frankly, you need to have some pleasures in life, whether it’s the odd roll-up ciggy, or the occasional bag of chips; and not everyone who goes to chip shops eats fish’n'chips seven days a week, whatever the government health ‘tzars’ think. And what on earth is behind the obsession with wanting to send everyone (even those of school age) for drastic weight reduction operations? All this obsessing about weight is only going to lead to a nation of anorexic youngsters.

We will start to take the government’s health obsessions seriously firstly when they eventually get around to putting fat boy Prescott on the hamster’s wheel till he loses a couple of stone; and secondly, when they start to stigmatise the nation’s increasing number of binge drinkers; alcohol is a huge health timebomb, far worse than the ‘looming obesity epidemic’, and yet it continues to be glamourised and promoted at every opportunity. Booze is far worse than both smoking and overeating combined; smoking has never been a major cause of tragic road accidents, wife beating, or violent crime in Britain’s town centres on Saturday nights.

But somehow (call me cynical if you want; I don’t care) neither of us can see either of those things happening, at least not in the near future. Until they do, we’ll just eat, drink (in moderation, of course) and be merry. We suggest you do likewise.

Chris

Shana was busy checking the email a few minutes ago. I, as usual, was engrossed in a book. And the telly was idling in the background (just keeping the valves warm, you know), with one of those inane home/garden makeover shows on Channel Five.

“What was that? Did someone on that programme say ‘burglar’?” Shana asked. Suddenly, she realised what the presenter had actually said. “No, it was ‘pergola’, wasn’t it?” she said.

“I think you could be right,” I said, only half aware even of what day it was, never mind what some gardening guru was droning on about.

We were both immediately drawn to the idea, though, of having a burglar in the garden. It’s not so bad, as long as they don’t make off with your best lawnmower. (Sod it, they’re welcome to the rusty old Qualcast if they’re that desperate.)

Perhaps every home should have its own burglar in the garden. Train some dog roses over the blighters and the thorns might encourage them to change their criminal ways. Gotta be worth a try, hasn’t it?

Chris

Over the past day or three I have been reading Malcolm Gladwell’s bestseller, The Tipping Point. I would review it in minute detail, except for the fact that Shana has yet to read it and I don’t want to spoil her enjoyment by giving too much away. So if you’ve already read it, you’ll know what it’s all about. And if you haven’t…

Well, if you haven’t read the book, all I can tell you is that it is about the triggers that cause ideas, products or even habits (like smoking, for example) to go from being minority interests to being embraced by the mainstream. The Tipping Point is a really absorbing read, with lots of fascinating insights into human nature.

Judged by Malcolm Gladwell’s criteria, The Frumplingtons still has a way to go before we reach our own tipping point. This bit may puzzle Shana, but if you’ve read the book you will understand perfectly when I say We need a maven and we need one now!

Chris