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It’s begun.
The Open Championship may last for four days, for those competitors who make the halfway cut, but for the communities where it is played the circus lasts twice as long. Gullane has become Traffic Cone City; a plan is in place which is confusing many people, but I am sure that its authors know what they;re doing and that it will work. (They may not get all the cones back, but I don’t suppose they’ll be too worried.) I’ve done my morning book shift and shortly Eileen and I will venture out to the tented village, before it becomes too crowded later in the week, and to see who’s on the practice ground.
Early good news is that local businesses are adapting to the situation. For example, Falko, our famous German baker and coffee shop owner, is serving dinner from six till midnight. If you like schnitzels it’s the place to go; if you don’t know whether or not you like schnitzels, it’s the place to find out.
Closed for the Open
I’ve just done a Tesco run to North Berwick, pre-emptive in nature. With the first official Open Championship practice day set for Sunday, Gullane is becoming a community under siege. No Parking signs have gone up all over the village, and a traffic plan that will allow only certain people into the village is about to be implemented. Let’s hope it works, or we are in for a long eight days. My own traffic plan is simple. The car is parked, and it’s not moving until Monday, June 22.
10%? Not enough.
A pay rise for MPs of £6,000, taking their salaries up to £74,000, been recommended by the Independent Parliamentary Standards Authority. We can expect howls of protest. Here’s mine. I don’t believe it’s nearly enough.
The Parliamentary expenses scandal owed much of its origin to evolution of a system which was created to ensure that no person of ability was prevented from becoming a Member simply because they couldn’t afford it. There’s nothing wrong with that in principle, but if the needs of the job are recognised, surely it is logical that they should be met through the basic salary. I’d rather see Members’ salaries doubled, and the expenses system abolished for everything except travel, with defined personal costs being chargeable against tax.
Quote of the day
‘The best time for planning a book is while you’re doing the dishes.’
Agatha Christie
I wouldn’t know about that, but this I concede; that Agatha, she never got above herself. This too; she must have had a large family.
You get all 25, you may be a sad git
Too clever by half: 25 highbrow jokes
1. A photon checks into a hotel and the porter asks him if he has any luggage. The photon replies: “No, I’m travelling light.”
2. “Is it solipsistic in here, or is it just me?”
3. What does a dyslexic, agnostic, insomniac spend most of his time doing? Staying up all night wondering if there really is a dog.
4. A TCP packet walks into a bar, and says to the barman: “Hello, I’d like a beer.” The barman replies: “Hello, you’d like a beer?” “Yes,” replies the TCP packet, “I’d like a beer.”
5. An electron is driving down a motorway, and a policeman pulls him over. The policeman says: “Sir, do you realise you were travelling at 130km per hour?” The electron goes: “Oh great, now I’m lost.”
6. Pavlov is enjoying a pint in the pub. The phone rings. He jumps up and shouts: “Hell, I forgot to feed the dog!”
7. How many surrealists does it take to screw in a light bulb? A fish.
8. There are 10 types of people in this world. Those that know binary, and those that don’t.
9. When I heard that oxygen and magnesium hooked up I was like OMg.
10. The barman says: “We don’t serve faster-than-light particles here.” A tachyon enters a bar.
11. A Buddhist monk approaches a hotdog stand and says: “Make me one with everything”.
12. What do you call two crows on a branch? Attempted murder.
13. An Englishman, a Frenchman, a Spaniard and a German are walking down the street together. A juggler is performing on the street but there are so many people that the four men can’t see the juggler. So the juggler goes on top of a platform and asks: “Can you see me now?” The four men answer: “Yes.” “Oui.” “Si.” “Ja.”
14. Never trust an atom. They make up everything.
15. How many programmers does it take to change a light bulb? None, it’s a hardware problem.
16. A student travelling on a train looks up and sees Einstein sitting next to him. Excited, he asks: “Excuse me, professor. Does Boston stop at this train?”
17. Did you hear about the jurisprudence fetishist? He got off on a technicality.
18. Werner Heisenberg, Kurt Gödel, and Noam Chomsky walk into a bar. Heisenberg turns to the other two and says: “Clearly this is a joke, but how can we figure out if it’s funny or not?” Gödel replies: “We can’t know that because we’re inside the joke.” Chomsky says: “Of course it’s funny. You’re just telling it wrong.”
19. A Roman walks into a bar, holds up two fingers, and says: “Five beers, please.”
20. Did you hear about the man who got cooled to absolute zero? He’s 0K now.
21. An infinite number of mathematicians walk into a bar. The bartender says: “What’ll it be, boys?” The first mathematician: “I’ll have one half of a beer.” The second mathematician: “I’ll have one quarter of a beer.” The third mathematician: “I’ll have one eight of a beer.” The fourth mathematician: “I’ll have one sixteenth of a…” The bartender interrupts: “Know your limits, boys” as he pours out a single beer.
22. What does the “B” in Benoit B Mandelbrot stand for? Answer: Benoit B Mandelbrot.
23. Jean-Paul Sartre is sitting at a French café, revising his draft of Being and Nothingness. He says to the waitress: “I’d like a cup of coffee, please, with no cream.” The waitress replies: “I’m sorry, Monsieur, but we’re out of cream. How about with no milk?”
24. A classics professor goes to a tailor to get his trousers mended. The tailor asks: “Euripides?” The professor replies: “Yes. Eumenides?”
25. A programmer’s wife tells him: “Run to the store and pick up a loaf of bread. If they have eggs, get a dozen.” The programmer comes home with 12 loaves of bread.
No way to run a railroad
We’re sneaking in an extra couple of weeks in Spain early August. We are flying from Newcastle to Girona, so I’ve just booked return train tickets, Dunbar to Newcastle. The cost was £32, return, each. I also booked one-way tickets, Dunbar to Newcastle, for a later August date. They cost £6 each. I know from recent experience that the walk-up one way fare from Newcastle to Edinburgh, virtually the same journey, is £47.
The same people who privatised the railways are now going to do the same to Royal Mail. God help us.
The perils of social meeja
I do Facebook mainly because the marketing people at Headline want me to, but there are times when I wonder whether it’s worth it. Yesterday was one of those days.
My (real life) friend Michael Robotham posted a funny about the potential aftermath in London of Andy Murray’s win. Shortly afterwards this drew a comment from a woman who chose to insult my nation by labelling us xenophobic. I should have known better, but I got involved. When I attempted to correct her . . . gently, I thought . . . she then insulted me, by calling me a bigot. Shortly after that, her posts were deleted; by her or by someone else, I know not. I haven’t forgotten, though. I have blocked the lady on both Facebook and Twitter, and if she ever shows up on this blog, I’ll block her here also. Why have I done this? For her own good.
For the record, I do not believe I am a bigot. I was brought up surrounded by bigotry, in a part of Scotland where it was all too common, and I loathe and detest it in all its forms.
Let-down
Just when we thought it was safe to clean the garden paving, the pressure washer goes silent on us. It’s all a lot of Bosch really!
Prophetic
By the way, on July 1, I posted the following:
‘One small distraction from the work routine. Eileen and I are bidden to the Royal Garden Party in the Palace of Holyroodhouse, tomorrow, 4pm to 6pm. It’s bound to rain.’
I was right; it did, in great big constant lumps. Her Majesty was there but like most of the 3,000, we couldn’t see her for the forest of umbrellas. However I did bump into an old colleague, Mr Sandy Sutherland. Good to see you, chum. How has ageing managed to pass you by?
QJ in the lion’s den
At the weekend I was a guest at a private function in England, and found myself at a table with some very nice people, none of whom I’d ever met before. It seems that you can’t be Scottish in England just now without the referendum question coming up. My mind has been made up since I was 17 years old, and I never apologise for my stance. Yet I was surprised to realise, if my lunch companions were an accurate reflection of the broader view down south, as I believe they are, that there is a strong feeling of disquiet about the 2014 vote, and about the fact that it’s happening at all. I’m not sure what’s behind it. They know nothing of our history or the issues, so why the negativity? Is it resentment that we should even consider leaving Westminster and resuming the full nation status that we had before the Union of the Parliaments in 1707, (one highly intelligent professional man on Saturday had never heard of that event) or is it fear of the consequences for England? One thing it is not based on, and that is any love of the Scots. One of my companions remarked . . . pleasantly I must say . . . ‘If they asked the English to vote on it we’d all say Yes’, and I don’t doubt that is the truth . . . one that will have been underlined, I suspect, by Alex Salmond waving the Saltire in the Royal Box at Wimbledon yesterday.
I was asked how I thought the referendum will turn out. I said I believe that if it was held tomorrow there would be a No vote, but that next year, I expect the position to have changed.
My resolve hasn’t been weakened by Saturday’s civilised discussion; in fact it has been strengthened. As I’m coming to see it, the majority would probably be happy to kick us out of the Union, but they don’t want us to take that decision for ourselves. I believe that the more that English sentiment is known the stronger the Yes camp will become.
The Devonport
On Friday I went back thirty years in time. That’s how long it is since I last visited a hotel called the Devonport, in an appropriately-named hamlet called Middleton One Row, just outside Darlington. Needing an overnight stop in that area, and having had some good times there, I booked us in, wondering how much it woud have changed over the years. The answer turned out to be ‘very little’. It’s under different management, but it remains a comfortable, welcoming place, with an excellent kitchen, a well-stocked bar, and a host who can’t do enough to make his clients feel at home.
Thanks, Anthony.
Quote of the day
I have made this letter longer, because I have not had the time to make it shorter.
Blaise Pascal
He should have been a copy editor; maybe he was. Have to say, I much prefer his descendant, Lorraine.
Your Majesty
One small distraction from the work routine. Eileen and I are bidden to the Royal Garden Party in the Palace of Holyroodhouse, tomorrow, 4pm to 6pm. It’s bound to rain.
Tea-break’s over, back on your heads.
Okay, that’s it. Birthdays over, the summer is crap so I might as well get back to work.
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