Britain’s Got Talent

We watched the final last night and believed there was a worthy winner, but we’d have been happy if any of four acts had won.

The Luminites were brilliant throughout the comp and we were astonished they weren’t in the top three:

Richard & Adam have gorgeous voices and were so professional when the viola player ran on stage to throw eggs at Simon Cowell, I thought at first it was part of the act and she was throwing stars into the audience:

Jack Carroll, only 14 and with Cerebral Palsy, is a brilliant comedian and must surely have a big future ahead of him:

And here’s my favourite performance from Attraction, the winners, though they were all good:

 

A Treat For Downton Abbey Fans

Breaking News!  Downton Abbey has cast its first black character – Sean Combs, better known as P Diddy.

Don’t believe me?  Hear it from the horse’s (occasionally foul) mouth:

For more details, go to Sky News

 

A Man In A Can

I saw this wonderful clip about astronaut Chris Hadfield on Sky News:

The Bowie purists might not like it, but I do.

In other news…

Last night, the Hub and I heard what I can only describe as a weird chattering.  I thought it might be magpies but it was after their bed time and higher-pitched.

Turns out it was a couple of courting foxes, lying in the road and making eyes at each other.  Once they saw us watching, they ran off.

I can’t blame them; I’d be spooked, too, if someone peered into our bedroom at an interesting moment.

 

Today Is M.E. Awareness Day

The Hub has M.E. and I had intended to write about it and him but – somewhat ironically – after the day I’ve had, I’m too tired to blog.

Instead, I will re-post last year’s article (which is actually a re-post from the year before, but nothing has changed so I don’t feel guilty), and ask you to spare a thought for people like the Hub, facing prejudice and disdain from those who believe he is too lazy to work, on his best days; and too lazy to get up, on his worst.

 

Today is International CFS/ME Day.

That’s a mouthful so, in layman’s terms: millions of people across the world suffer unexplained fatigue, excruciating pain, the stigma of being called ‘lazy’, and are generally considered too idle to work.

Please consider me sticking two fingers up at those who say my husband who, before he became ill, ran his own business, travelled all over sub-Saharan Africa, trained under-14s at football, was a qualified referee who covered as many as five games every Saturday, set up and ran the official MCFC Supporters Club of South Africa and occasionally came home to remind himself of what his family looked like, is lazy and too idle to work.  I don’t buy it.

I don’t know how much you know about ME but here’s a bit of info to get you started:

It has many names, including:

• Yuppie Flu
• Myalgic Encephalomyelitis
• Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
• Post-Viral Fatigue Syndrome

Fibromyalgia is similar but not exactly the same, though I can’t really tell you the difference; and I don’t think it matters to those who suffer from these dreadful and debilitating conditions.

It robs you of a meaningful life.

You will spend your time in a haze of pain, exhaustion and prejudice – because ‘you don’t look sick’.  Someone once said to the Hub, ‘I wish I had it; I could do with six months off work.’  Now that person does have it, and it’s been a lot longer than six months.  I don’t gloat over that because I wish nobody had it.

Symptoms vary from person to person.

That’s one of the reasons it’s so difficult to diagnose and treat.  It doesn’t help that many in the medical profession don’t believe it exists.  It took two years before the Hub was taken seriously by a doctor.  He would be in bed for weeks.  When he could drag himself to the doctor’s he would invariably be told to ‘take two paracetamol and go to bed.’  One doctor said he needed a psychiatrist.

When a doctor finally did take him seriously, it took many more months for him to be officially diagnosed: the only way to do it was to rule out anything else.  He has had every kind of scan, blood test, whatever, available on the NHS.  They were thorough, but what a waste of money.

Then, once diagnosed, you are left to get on with it because there is no cure.

A few of the symptoms:

• severe, debilitating and disabling fatigue
• poor concentration
• brain fog
• poor memory
• useless sleep i.e. you never feel refreshed
• muscle pain
• headaches
• migraines
• joint pain and inflammation
• swollen glands
• sore throat
• hot sweats
• cold sweats
• noise sensitivity
• light sensitivity
• anxiety
• insomnia
• too much sleep with no benefit
• short-lived paralysis
• numbness
• twitching muscles
• tinnitus
• blackouts
• depression
• feeling spaced out
• mood swings, particularly bad moods
• nausea
• IBS
• lack of temperature control
• allergies
• chest pain
• sinusitis 

This is not a complete list.

Not pleasant, is it?

So, if you know someone with CFS/ME or Fibromyalgia, please don’t take it personally when they cancel a long-standing date or seem fidgety and uncomfortable when you visit.  They simply don’t have the required energy.  If they live alone, offer to help with their shopping, take them to appointments, or anything else they might need.

Be nice.  Don’t judge until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes – you’ll have to do it, because they can’t walk a mile in any shoes.

And be careful yourself: slow down; don’t feel the need to do everything.  Believe me, M.E. can happen to anyone.

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An apology: I had intended to write a good-humoured piece that would send you on your way with a smile and hopefully leave you thinking a little about this illness.

I couldn’t do it.  The sufferer has all the suffering, but their loved ones have to stand by, helpless, watching as their lives go on hold.  I hate it.

The saddest thing he ever said to me was, ‘I never got to play football with my own children.’

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Two Useful Links:

If you need help claiming benefits: AfME Fact Sheet

From a convert to the cause: Daily Mail Article

 

The Beginning Of The Enderverse

Regular readers of this blog know, having been told over and over (and assuming that they were paying attention), that Ender’s Game by Scorson Ott card…let me re-type that, I’m so excited!…by Orson Scott Card, is my Desert Island Book. Assuming, that is, that they give you a book on top of the Bible and The Complete Works of Shakespeare.  If not, I might have to take it as my luxury item instead of the giant vat of Vaseline I had set my heart upon.

Vaseline is fabulous:

• Lubricant: to grease rusted screws from washed-up airplane parts that I can turn into three-storey homes and life rafts
• Skin softener: to protect me from the harsh elements
• Lip salve: Vaseline’s most vital function in my own universe: have you ever tried smiling at strangers when your lips are cracked?  Don’t.  It frightens them
• Frying grease: I’ll need all my fat stores, obviously, because I can’t hunt or grow vegetables.  My best hope will be to eat suicidal sharks.  I’ve eaten shark.  It tastes fishy.  But I don’t do sushi, hence the Vaseline.  Fat stores are the reason I don’t diet – in case of desert island castawaying.  I find a good precaution is never wasted
• Sore sealant: it’s what they put on boxers’ cuts to stop the blood obscuring their vision as they pound each other to pulp.  Which brings me back to Ender’s Game:

My beloved eldest son (this month’s favourite child as a result of what I’m about to tell you) sent me a link yesterday: the film of the book is FINALLY made!

The book was written in 1985 and is beloved around the world, but various attempts to film it were defeated because the Battle Room was just too difficult to turn into hard copy.

Thankfully, CGI is now so sophisticated, the dream has become reality. Imaginary reality, of course, but you get my drift.  Remember – the enemy’s gate is down!

I’m sure it won’t be the only book in the series to be filmed, but I do hope they go the Bean route rather than the Ender route.

You don’t know what I’m talking about, but I don’t care: I’m happy in my own little world.  Unlike poor Ender, a lonely child soldier.

Dystopian futures – I love ‘em.  Ho!

 

 

Martians Read English?

A chance to go to space!

Even better: a chance to go to space without leaving your computer.

No, not on Richard Branson’s £200,000 ticket to the atmosphere with your laptop as carry-on luggage, but through a request from NASA (via Sky News):

Nasa Wants Three-Line Poems For Mars Mission

The space agency is inviting the public to send in poems to go on a DVD that will be carried on a new Mars mission.

Nasa is inviting the public to send in their name and a poem to be put on a DVD that will be carried aboard a Martian-bound spacecraft.

The disc will be in the Mars Atmosphere and Volatile Evolution (MAVEN) spacecraft, scheduled to launch in November.

Every name submitted will go on the disc but the space agency also wants people to write a short haiku poem.

A haiku is a form of writing that originated in Japan and is usually made up of three lines and around 17 syllables.

The three best poems, as voted for online by the public, will end up heading to the Red Planet.

People who send in their names for the DVD will be able to print off a ‘certificate of appreciation’ to record their involvement and the deadline for entries is July 1.

The voting for the three best messages begins on July 15, with the winners announced on August 8. The MAVEN mission itself is expected to blast off in late 2013.

See here for details (there’s something I never expected to Google: Nasa poetry competition…).  

And remember, if you win, to link back to this blog.  Martians read Laughing Housewives, I’m sure.

 

Six Down; Eighty-Seven To Go

I’m a little behind in answering the daily prompts – about 93 prompts behind, if I’m honest.  So here goes:

At noon today, take a pause in what you’re doing or thinking about. Make a note of it, and write a post about it later.

12:00  Mmm, lunch!

12:02:  Mmm, lunch was delicious!

Hot dog eating a hot dog (Photo credit: interpunct)

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Head to your favorite online news source. Pick an article with a headline that grabs you. Now, write a short story based on the article. 

From Sky News:  Cannibalism Confirmed At Early US Settlements

Summary: Jamestown residents eat 14 year-old girl after difficult winter.

We’ve had a difficult winter, haven’t we Spud?

Mmm…lunch…

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What role does music play in your life?

It often accompanies lunch.

But what it really wants to do is direct.

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Read the story of Richard Parker and Tom Dudley.  [Shipwrecked sailors dine on dying cabin boy] Is what Dudley did defensible? What would you have done?

I plead the Fifth.  I will say, however, that if I had been there, which I quite possibly was because the report says Tilly succeeded in obtaining bail, that I’d have been cleared on the grounds that it would drive any Tilly insane to have to go for more than four hours without food.

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Invent a definition for the word “flangiprop,” then use the word in a post. 

 Flangiprop: 

An open, tartlike pastry, 

the shell of which is baked 

in a bottomless band of metal

on a baking sheet, 

removed from the ring 

and filled with custard, cream, fruit, etc.  

It has a gelatinous base.

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Mmm, dessert was delicious!

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Reincarnation: do you believe in it?

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Not at all.

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Though I did in a previous life.

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Today, I Am Ashamed To Be British

From The Mail & Guardian, South Africa

By now, everyone knows that Margaret Thatcher died on Monday.  It has been headline news everywhere.

The BBC managed a Freudian typo – accidentally, I hope:  

Margaret Thatcher dies after a strike.

I wonder if the British reaction has been headline news around the world?  I hope not.

In Britain, many mourn; many…rejoice.  Champagne was sprayed; happy chants thought up; in Glasgow, people who are too young to remember her time in office threw a street party to celebrate.  It was not the only ‘death party’.   Signs appeared saying, Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead!  Facebookers – people I know – spewed vitriol.  

While I don’t deny that her policies caused hurt to many, I have been appalled and saddened at the awfulness of the public reaction in some quarters.  The weltschmerz I feel is compounded with shame.  Margaret Thatcher wasn’t a mass-murderer, a torturer, a genocidal maniac who kept heads in the refrigerator.  She was a strong woman, convinced she was right, and unafraid to act on her beliefs.  She was our first and, so far, only, female Prime Minister; for three terms.  No small achievement.  She was respected and sometimes feared on the world stage.

But all of that happened more than twenty years ago.  When she died, she was just a frail old lady.

former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in October 2007 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What is wrong with a country in which people can show such scant respect for the dead?  In which it is okay to dance on the grave of a pensioner?

All politics aside, today, I am ashamed to be British.

Related articles

• Who is Margaret Thatcher? Confusion reigns online (guardian.co.uk)
• Stop Speaking Ill of Margaret Thatcher. (mypresentself.wordpress.com)

 

A Horse Meat Of A Different Colour

Donkeys on the beach at Scarborough. Donkey rides are a common feature on British beaches. These donkeys were photographed while they were taking a break and eating from nose bags. Also on the beach is a small amusement park (left) and the lifeboat station (right) http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/192382. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We think we’ve got it bad?

I just read a report in the Mail & Guardian that South Africans are eating ‘beef’ which is really goat, donkey and water buffalo.

Professor Louw Hoffman makes an excellent point:

There’s nothing wrong with eating donkey meat if you like eating donkey meat. It’s not more or less unhealthy than any other species. It boils down to the fact that you want to know what you’re eating.

Although, to be honest, if I’m eating donkey, I don’t think I do want to know what I’m eating.

I found this comment surprising:

The department of agriculture, forestry and fisheries has pointed out that eating unconventional species such as donkey, goat and water buffalo may seem unthinkable to many South Africans but it does not pose an automatic health risk.

What surprised me is that eating unconventional species is ‘unthinkable to many South Africans.’  This in a country which has a wonderful restaurant called The Train (in Midrand), where I have eaten elephant, shark, crocodile, giraffe and warthog.  They also serve water buffalo; but they don’t call it ‘beef’.  They call it ‘water buffalo’.

If you are ever in Midrand, you should visit The Train.  It’s less than R40 a head.  That’s about £3!  Or $4.50.

But be warned: they don’t have  a children’s menu.  Someone ate all the donkeys.

Animal Magic

We haven’t had a news round-up in a while.  It’s all about animals today, from The Telegraph website.  Visit the site for full details.

Giant Rabbit Sees Off Burglar

A family’s pet rabbit disturbed a burglar and made such a racket, he frightened the thief away.

The rabbit sleeps in a labrador cage in the house.  He was pretty shaken up and tried to go for a policeman who came to investigate.

I’ve never liked rabbits since I took Tory Boy on a pre-school trip to a local farm and we were warned not to let the children put their fingers through the bars because the rabbits often mistake them for carrots…

Owl Radiates Anxiety

This poor bird was hit by a car and became trapped in the grille for 24 hours. Fortunately, observant motorists (not the driver, obviously) spotted it and it was rescued, unharmed.

How Much Is That Doggie In The Window Annoying You?

This story sounds amusing but it’s really not: a woman suffering a form of tinnitus known as musical hallucination has heard the song, How Much Is That Doggie In The Window? in her head for three solid years.

And now you will too:

And Finally…

I came across this one on Facebook.  It’s a hamster who likes to play dead:

 

The Pope Resigns!

Shock news: Pope Benedict XVI has announced his resignation.  He is to step down on February 28th.

English: Pope Benedict XVI during general audition (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Twitterverse is agog at the news and speculation is rife as to his reason.

Forget the conspiracy theories, however – The Laughing Housewife can exclusively reveal the decision for his decision (via her secret source, the Hub): he is responsible for the Findus horse meat scandal.

It makes sense: he’s from Europe.

You heard it here first.

The Horse Babbler

A message for new readers: every couple of days, I take a random selection of Daily Post prompts and attempt to answer them in a serious manner.

horse (Photo credit: possan)

Link to an item in the news you’ve been thinking about lately, and write the op-ed you’d like to see published on the topic.

Horsemeat Found In Frozen Burgers

Op Ed:

Stop complaining!  The French are laughing at us.

Besides, you never really believed there was any actual meat in processed burgers, did you?  This is a step up.

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What’s the best piece of advice you’ve given someone that you failed to take yourself?

NEVER make fun of the WordPress prompters; they know your host.

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Open your nearest book to page 82. Take the third full sentence on the page, and work it into a post somehow.

The third full sentence in the book nearest to me is taken from Grace Nichols’ Everybody Got A Gift:

poop po-doop
poop-poop po-doop
poop po-doop
poop-poop po-doop

She has such a way with words.

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Winner of the Silly Face Contest (Photo credit: Linda Hartman.)

Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding, belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond?

A WordPress prompter got into the lift with me one day.  Given my relentless tormenting of the evil creature, I was terrified. Fortunately, however, I was thinking about Grace Nichol’s sublime poetry at the time, so I had an idea how to distract him…

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Some people eat to live, while others live to eat. What about you? How far would you travel for the best meal of your life?

As far as a horse could take me.

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What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail, and tell us why you think that experience was the one to stick with you.

I remember carefree days on an English farm with my mother.  It sticks in my memory because I was suddenly, cruelly separated from her and put to work driving cabs in London, even though I was still young.  I did eventually retire happily to the country but along the way, I met with many hardships, much cruelty and some kindness.

Oh, wait…that was Black Beauty.

My first memory was of reading a rather sad book.  I forget what it was called.

RIP PC Gareth Francis

Read the full story

A policeman was murdered in Stockport last night.  PC Gareth Francis was on his way home from a night out with friends when he was attacked on Castle Street, Edgeley.  He died in hospital.  Two men have been arrested.

We shop on Castle Street all the time.  It is just up the road from my church.  I have been on it at night, on an evening out with friends.

I was desperate to leave South Africa in 1996 because of the violence.  We heard many terrible stories while we lived there, and witnessed violence ourselves, upon occasion.  I always thought it could happen to one of us while we lived there.

I never expected it to happen so close to home, here in the UK.  We have a lot of petty crime but we feel safe walking the streets.

It is dreadful to think of that young man, a man who was valuable in his community, who made a difference, being killed as he walked home.

Such a tragic waste.

 

They Think It's All Over

Reblogged from Worth Doing Badly:

It began with a boy band.

Cojonez, the teen sensations who made Mayan maidens swoon with their renditions of other people’s ballads, and especially with their song about human sacrifices being tossed into the volcano (“Flying Without Wings”) wanted to “give something back to their fans”, in other words find some sort of merchandise that said fans would pay a lot of money for.

Read more… 667 more words

I promised Tinman that, if we were all still here when the deadline passed, I'd reblog this post.

Please do yourself a favour and read it - it explains everything.

So Long, And Thanks For All The Hits

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It’s the end of the world today.

See you on the other side.

Or tomorrow; whichever comes soonest.

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