i'm confused

Will someone tell me what to believe. I want to know what to think about our latest Prime Minister but wherever I look I get a different impression. "I'll see what he has to say in his conference speech" I thought, "That'll tell me all I need to know about him." So I listened to his speech and I thought he did all right.

NOT HIS FINEST HOUR
the Sun

But then I read in the Sun that it wasn't his finest hour. The Sun correspondents seemed incensed that he hadn't spent the whole time making promises that Britain will NEVER surrender to those pesky europeans who are attempting their boldest invasion plan since 1943. And if the reporters were bad the readers were worse.

How dare he just brush over something as important as the future of our country! Thousand of people fought for our country, who would be turning in the graves... if the unions stopped funding this ignoramus he would address the issues rather than continuing to deter from the issues the people want answers for...empty words Brown which has left this country crime ridden, swamped by immigrants. Make way for a better party that does care about Britishness...My thoughts on this lying, traitorus bunch are well known. Now he yet again shows utter contempt for us. Another labour promise broken. Do NOT vote for these lying traitorus scumbags again! Labour OUT

There's nothing I like more than informed politcial debate. So now I'm thinking that Brown is a bad bad man who wants to bring Hitler back from the grave so he can hand over the keys of Britain. Boo hiss.

LIFTING THE HEARTS OF THE NATION

the Mirror

But then I read the Mirror and they don't seem so worried. In fact I get the impression they had a lump in their throat and a tear of pride in their eye as they listened to his stirring words.

Mr Brown proved yesterday he's transformed perceived weaknesses into his greatest strengths. To be a serious politician in an uncertain, insecure world is precisely why the British people are flocking to the Brown banner.

What a lovely man; though I must admit that I'm worried what the Sun readers might be flocking to Brown for. He might want to increase his personal security. All of this has done nothing more than confuse me further. Who should I vote for in the possible psuedo election that might or might now happen later this year? It makes me yearn for the Liberal Conference and fundraisers involving raffles for autographed Cheeky Girl merchandise.

tch! the state of education today!

It makes me weep just how bad our literacy levels are at the moment. Take for instance the email I received today from "The Royal Bank of Scotland." It's not the immoral attempt to get me to send my banking details to some scammer sitting in front of a computer screen that gets me. It's not even the fact that they called me sambucci. What really gets to me is the pitiful grammar and vocabulary on display.

And it's not just email scammers that have me shuddering; this morning I listened as a Rugby World Cup pundit struggled to think of something to say live on air.

What gets to me is their lack of ideas. They had no ideas. It was as if. All
over the pitch. No ideas. Any of them. Just a complete lack of. Ideas.

Now I don't claim to be an expert on the language (one look at the spelling mistakes I've made in this blog over the years will show you that) but even I could have thought of an alternative for 'ideas' without the need of a thesaurus.

In the email scammers' case they may be excused slightly - as surprising as it may seem, that 'hyperlink' does not send you to a secure area of the Royal Bank of Scotlands headquarters in Gogarburn; it doesn't even take you anywhere near Edinburgh. It takes you to some domain called lopfroriif in China. Shocking. But at least the fact that english isn't their first language excuses some of their mistakes. It doesn't, however, excuse the distinct lack of imagination, the slap dash design (not even a logo!), the lack of attention shown to detail, an obvious absence of research, the constant repetition of 'request', an amateur...

gratuitous sunsets

A gratuitous shot of a sunset from the back of the house... because I like them and because I can.

supermarket sweep

There must be some sort of record for what I managed tonight.

After fiddling round with the camera I bought yesterday I decided that I should get some memory so I could actually take some photos. This realisation occurred quite suddenly (as my decisions are apt to do) and there and then I decided to go and buy some.

The problem being that it was fourteen minutes before closing time for the supermarkets in Coleraine.

In seconds I was in my car and on route to the nearest stop - Asda.

Those five miles seemed like an eternity as I overtook a multitude of tractors and learner drivers (always sticking to the speed limit of course) but I got there in good time and began searching the electronics section for Compactflash. Of course they keep the Compactflash in the seasonal goods section - where else would they keep them? They had cards but all on the small side.

So back in the car, across the Bann to Sainsbury's. They don't keep memory cards in their electronic section either; they keep them in those little miscellaneous bits at the end of aisles. They were sold out of CF so it was back in the car and across the Bann again to Tesco's.

They keep their memory cards in their electronic section - but they don't sell CF cards. They sell mulitiple sizes of multiple brands of every other format under the sun - but not a single Compactflash card.

So it was back in the car once more and across town to Asda again. Back through the electronics section, past the clothes on route to the seasonal goods. Behind the small cards I found a decent sized one that I was happy with, bought it and was out the door as they locked it behind me.

Four supermarkets in 14 minutes. Never again.

smile please

Finally. It took a couple of weeks and some frantic phone calls to the delivery firm but finally my new camera arrived. For over a month I scrimped and saved; I sold all my old photography stuff on ebay, (as well as an old camcorder, computer stuff and anything else I spotted lying about) but now it has arrived it was worth it. My new Canon EOS 400D.

I fell in love instantly. I'd done research of course - looked at a range of digital SLRs (mostly well out of my price range) - so I knew it reviewed well. Because it's a Canon EOS I knew my old lenses would fit it and parts and accessories will be readily available. But that first moment when I held it in my hand and felt the weight of it, when I powered it up and looked through the viewfinder for the first time, when I squeezed that shutter... I love that camera.

Of course, it begs the question - if that's my new camera on my knee, and I sold the old one on ebay... what am I using to take the photo of it?

Le James Joyce

I didn't know what to write about today. Truth be told it's so long since I sat down to type something I've got out of the way of it. I was here this morning trying to think of something but soon gave up, jumped in my car, and drove to Donegal instead.

As I drove I listened to the radio - and suddenly I was bombarded by a barrage of potential topics. They were coming at me so fast I knew I'd only be able to recall a small sample by the time I got home. Here are just a few:

1. The eccentricities of Donegal drivers and the bizarre methods they employ getting from A to B. In particular the invisible middle lane where they get to practice playing chicken with traffic coming from the other direction.

2. The funeral of the late opera singer Luciano Pavarotti in Modena. The way he was one of the very few singers who crossed the divide between opera and mainstream, and the way he transcended cultures with a graceful ease. And yet, listening to the tributes on the radio, you'd have thought he only ever sang one song, entitled 'that one he did for Italia 90.' Apparently Nessun Dorma is tough to remember for the average soccer fan.

He lived the songs, his opera was a great mash of joy and sadness; surreal and earthy at the same time; a great volcano of a man who sang fire but spilled over with a love of life in all its complexity, a great and generous friend.Bono

3. Osama Bin Laden's latest change of image; and why the UK/US intelligence agencies weren't watching 'This Morning' when the make over was taking place. They should bring Philip Schofield and Fern Britton in for some very intensive questioning - preferably in Guantanamo Bay.

4. Moira Cameron becoming the first woman ever to work as a Beefeater at the Tower of London - and the obvious weakness women have when undertaking the role - the inability to face forward when required... and quite possibly grow facial hair.

5. The Rev Ian Paisley announcing today that he wasn't going to stand for re-election as moderator of the Free Presbyterian Church. Now, obviously, one man does not a church make, but when I picture the Free Ps I tend to think of Big Ian at the helm - it will be odd not making that connection. Maybe this should be the topic I choose to write about in the blog, I usually have plenty to say on the good doctor, he's always good for a bit of religious/political/cultural satire - yet oddly I have nothing more to say - I'm speechless. Really speechless.

No, the topic I chose to comment on occurred to me while listening to the build up for the New Zealand v Italy match in the Rugby World Cup. I'm not sure of all the details as I missed the start of the item (my attention was momentarily concentrated on attempting to swerve in order to avoid a battered Renault flailing down the middle of the road) but John Inverdale seemed to be interviewing an English Rugby fan (ex player maybe?) who was travelling round France watching the various matches. He had been in Paris for the France v Argentina game. He told Inverdale that he watched it in the James Joyce Pub. Apparently James Joyce, he informed us, "was some kind of French Philosopher."

Hmm. Yes, some kind of.

Ah, the ignorant english. Très amusant.