Didn’t I Tell You We Brits Were Understated?

I read a report on Sky News that it’s going to be the end of the world on December 21st.  Why did nobody tell me?  I need to make sure I finish my Christmas shopping.  

I have often wondered why governments advise people not to panic but never advise them that the time is now right to panic.  Think this could be one of those times?

According to Sky:

British authorities have insisted they are prepared for the looming apocalypse and have issued advice on how to cope.

In the event that the world ends on December 21, the public should check the car, fit a smoke alarm and learn to make a fire.

The AA warned: “Before heading off, take time to do the basic checks on your car and allow extra time for your journey.  Local radio is a good source of traffic and weather updates and for any warnings of an impending apocalypse. Should the announcer break such solemn news, try to remain focused on the road ahead and keep your hands on the wheel.”

The Apocalypse is all very well but heaven help the driver who doesn’t keep their hands in the ten and two position.

Even the scouts are getting in on the act (well, they would, wouldn’t they, with a motto like Be Prepared?):

The assistant director of the Scouts said: “If you are a scout, you know how to light a fire, how to cook, how to make a shelter. There are probably going to be no computers or electricity in the post-apocalyptic world so get a basic essential guide, there are loads around in the library such as Scouting For Boys –  it was written in 1908 but it will still be relevant after the apocalypse.”

Stiff upper lip, a good cup of tea and a visit to the library, that’s how we Brits will deal with the end of the world.   What will your nation do?

Anniversaries

I have two anniversaries coming up this month. On 30th June thelaughinghousewife will be one year old. Look forward to an exciting post: I’ll share my statistical analysis with you to celebrate.

That’s the last day of June; on the first day of June I will have been married to the Hub for twenty-five years. Look forward to a…umm…post: I’ll share my autopsy with you to celebrate.

Today, however, is a real anniversary: it is seventy years since the evacuation of Dunkirk began. I don’t know if this story is known anywhere except in Britain, so let me give you a brief summary:

In 1940, the Germans forced British and French troops back onto the beach at Dunkirk in France. British Navy ships couldn’t get in close enough to rescue them so Churchill sent out the call for everyone with a little boat on the coast of Britain to sail over the English Channel and help out; around 900 responded. In just over a week, almost 340,000 men were saved. We consider it a victory, despite losing all of our heavy equipment. Whenever Brits pull together in a crisis, we call it ‘Dunkirk spirit’.

Wikipedia has this interesting fact: The St George’s Cross

flown from the jack staff is known as the Dunkirk jack and is only flown by civilian ships and boats of all sizes that took part in the Dunkirk rescue operation in 1940. The only other ships permitted to fly this flag at the bow are those with an Admiral of the Fleet on board.

I was privileged to once meet a Dunkirk survivor. As a teenager, I went to visit my Nan and she was out. Her neighbour invited me in for a cup of tea while I waited for her to return; I spotted a framed certificate and he told me he got it because he was at Dunkirk, and proceeded to give a first-hand account. I was fascinated but this happened thirty years ago and I very much regret that I don’t remember anything of what he told me; I wish I had kept a notebook in those days.

Sky News is showing the flotilla of original Dunkirk rescue boats setting off for France this morning to commemorate the anniversary. Sky News is getting on my nerves at the moment. They need to sack the person in charge of the news ribbon at the bottom of the screen because their spelling is dredfu. I almost lost it yesterday when it came up with, ‘Should there be more academies?’ I started to write a snotty email to them saying, ‘Yes, there should; then you might be able to employ someone who can spell “acadamies” properly…’ and I realised that the Sky spelling was, in fact, correct. I have sworn the Hub to secrecy and after twenty-five years he knows better than to disobey me, so I think my error will remain unknown to the world. If it does get out, he better hope somewhere there’s a little boat waiting to take him to a safe harbour.

PostScript: You can read all about it here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/8707657.stm#map

Poor Sue

The full story can be found here.

Is there anyone left in Britain who thinks that our Prime Minister should be allowed to run a bath, never mind a whole country? I don’t know who ‘Sue’ is, but she’s going to get it in the neck when the boss gets back to the office. Still, she has only herself to blame – fancy letting him loose in public like that. It was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

I actually have some sympathy for him: everyone is entitled to dislike anyone they please; and they are also entitled to bitch about them behind their backs. It’s not nice, but it’s human nature. What worries me, however, is that he seems to think that merely raising the immigration question makes one a bigot. He’s going to drive a lot of people into the BNP’s arms if he can’t talk rationally about something that worries so many voters.

Two curious things: Mrs Duffy seems to think – from her comments to the media – that he called her a bigot because she asked him about the national deficit; while he thought the conversation was a disaster, when it clearly wasn’t.

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Day 28’s prompt was ‘inspiration’. You will see from the length of today’s poem that I wasn’t feeling it:

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On Looking For Inspiration

A lot of sweat
for not much yet.

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…Ummmm…just went to embed the prompt page and discovered that the prompt was actually ‘intuition’. I am mortified at being caught out in this way.  I can only claim that I misunderstood what Prompt said to me, due to being bunged up in every facial orifice. I have made my sincere apologies to Prompt and she has accepted them, though she won’t be voting for me when I bid to become Poet Laureate, despite being a lifelong Poetry supporter. I will be sending an email of apology to everyone who fears me and wants me removed as their Beloved Leader.  Jeremy Vine has also asked me onto his Radio 2 show so that I can be filmed with my head in my hands, realising that I have just lost my job and I’m serving my final week’s notice.

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Just went to my Virgin home page and it’s official: Cheryl Cole is the world’s sexist woman.  Who’d have thunk it?  You’d think Richard Branson could afford to employ a proof reader; I didn’t realise the economy was quite that bad.

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Did I just break the world record for the most use of the word ‘just’ in one post?

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Brrrrrr!

Frosty the Snowdog

Sky News is reporting that parts of Britain are as cold as the South Pole.  I know one part of Britain that is decidedly frosty and that’s the area between the house containing Spud’s mother and the school currently containing Spud.  He is not pleased with me: school has been closed all week but re-opened this morning.  Spud was praying for another heavy snowfall in the night and was gutted when it didn’t happen.  He had me check the school website and my text messages every five minutes this morning, in the hope that it would close because of the icy conditions.  It didn’t.

He went off for his first bus at 7:45, pleading to be allowed to stay home.  Then followed a flurry of text messages.  When that didn’t work he phoned me, presumably to let me hear his chattering teeth.  His argument is that it’s not fair because other parents are keeping their children home ‘for safety’, so why does he have to go?  My argument is that 

1. School is open 
2. His education is important
3. We are not quitters in this family
4. The buses are running
5. What other (neglectful) parents do for their unfortunate offspring is not my concern
6. School is open

We are raising a generation of softies, ready to stay home at the first snowflake.  How is he going to be able to brag to his children that he walked seventy-three miles through a snow blizzard at the height of a summer drought to deliver a newspaper to his nearest neighbour, if he can’t get out of bed on a chilly morning?  I think I owe it to my grandchildren to turf him out of doors; don’t you agree?

 

 

PS I was this . close to letting him stay home.  I hate that my baby has to struggle through wind, snow, ice, cold and – worse – public transport, when he could be in the loving arms of his doting mama; but the boy is getting an expensive education for free and he’s going to turn up every day that it’s available unless he is sitting with his head in the toilet and/or both legs encased in plaster.  Snow: it’s character building.

I hope he’s not too cold…. 

 

I Have Saved Myself £12billion

I can’t say I’m impressed by the government’s plans to save £12billion: if I understand Sky News correctly, they simply have to stop spending.  If it’s that simple, why has it taken so long to do?  I’m really not convinced by the argument; after all, when I cut up my credit cards last week, did that mean I had saved £12billion myself?  No, I didn’t; I’m not going to see that money in my savings account anytime soon, am I?  I’m just not going to spend any more, and I’m going to be paying off past debts for a long time to come, just like my government.  And neither of us has any gold reserves with which to make the process easier.

But on to the REALLY important news: Joe McElderry is in the X-Factor final.  Another two flawless performances this weekend.  I was glad to see Olly Murs and Stacey Solomon in the final as well, though sorry that Danyl had to go; I loved his rendition of And I Am Telling You in the first live show.  It was a strong contest this year.  Oddly, however, there were no obvious standout performances as in other years: Leona Lewis and Alexandra Burke, for example, had some cracking shows in which they were clear frontrunners; and Ray Quinn was brilliant when he sang My Way in Leona’s year.  Joe has been consistently good, but not electrifying.  But I’ll still be voting for him to win next week: I can afford it now that I have £12billion to spare.