Sunday, 3 January 2010
New Year's Resolutions
Happy New Year, Grandmas, homees and all those in between.
One of the best things about New Year's is that you get to make New Year's resolutions. These resolutions are wonderfully pointless, and last about a week and a half, but reflect an attempt at self improvement that can only be admired.
You could pretty much guess someone's New Year's resolutions based on the magazines they read. Girls become Bridget Jones clones who join the gym, eat less chocolate and start the day with a quinoa-kale smoothie. Guys don't do resolutions, but if they did it would be like montage scene in an action movie. Personally, I think women like resolutions because women like lists.
I've just re-read mine for 2009, and I failed to complete each and every one. All this Resolution business does is succeed in making you feel bad, and they you are even less likely to do the things you set out to achieve.
Driving in the car on January 2nd, Katie asked me if I had any New Year's Resolutions. The little things that I might try and change and improve abut myself for the coming year. I said I didn't, and that I couldn't think of any. Interesting, she said, because you actually have 7, and read me the list of ways to improve myself.
I've written my own... Next entry.
Friday, 1 January 2010
Strauss v Smith update
Strauss is winning. And it has been Swann that's made the difference. Go you Onions last over blocking. Go you Saffa imports. Go you Strauss!
Monday, 28 December 2009
Brendon
Countdown Supermarket Car Park, Masterton, Wairarapa, North Island, New Zealand, 26/12/09.
As I was trying to get Leah to sleep, I was treated to this window into relationship etiquette in the Wairarapa. Overheard exiting their tinted windows souped up Ford Escort was this brief exchange:
They then walked hand in hand into the supermarket, as if this was standard. To avoid being caught looking at them - even holding Leah I didn't think it was beyond either Brendon or his butsh to lamp me - I averted my gaze, towards their car.

As I was trying to get Leah to sleep, I was treated to this window into relationship etiquette in the Wairarapa. Overheard exiting their tinted windows souped up Ford Escort was this brief exchange:
- C'mon Brendon, you deck, we're gonna be late.
Brendon, not looking up - Shuttup, Butsh.
Brendon, not looking up - Shuttup, Butsh.
They then walked hand in hand into the supermarket, as if this was standard. To avoid being caught looking at them - even holding Leah I didn't think it was beyond either Brendon or his butsh to lamp me - I averted my gaze, towards their car.
Now, tell me what to make of this. On the bumper, and again on the back windscreen, read the following:

R.I.P. Brendon
Monday, 7 December 2009
Strauss v Smith
Warning: This entry contains strong and frequent traces of cricket.
England v South Africa
After a bizarrely unsatisfying Ashes series victory, England take themselves to South Africa to continue to not really dominate the world of cricket. On the back of a one day series that had England become only the 2nd foreign team to win a 1 day series on that soil, the question raises itself: why does no one still think they're any good?
In this series, England won 2 games in their sleep, and got absolutely hammered in the middle. The other two got rained off.
It was like mini-Ashes. When England played well, it was as though everyone was waiting for the bubble to burst, but sort of went with while it lasted. Collingwood batted like Strauss, Anderson swung it and therefore won a game within half an hour, Strauss caught like Collingwood.
Only hours before, Collingwood batted like Strauss circa 2006-7, Good Anderson bowled like Bad Anderson, and Struass caught like Panesar, dropping 3 catches in an hour.
Has there been a more perfectly imbalanced series as the forthcoming one between England and South Africa this winter? I would suggest there hasn't, and this is in no small part becuase England are essentially playing England. Or, the Trottskyists might argue, South Africa are playing South Africa.
But like South Africa, England look a good side when, and only when, their captain is at the crease.
They make for interesting comparison, the two captains: Strauss and Smith.
They're both captains, who took over their teams in relative peril. Smith took as captain when he was ridiculously young, 22, and the first thing he did was kick out Lance Klusener - a demiGod in South Africa at the time - who he thought was a divisive influence in the dressing room. A massive call. He essentially did to South Africa what Nasser Hussain did for England - kicked out anyone he didn't think had the hearse and turned them into the side that recently beat Australia in Australia. His 150no to win the series against England in England is one of the great Test innings (although, obviously, I wanted him to lose, and he was, as ever, plump lbw on early in his innings). Strauss took over a coachless/managerless England team destroyed by another South African, KP, in the West Indies, and turned them into an Ashes winning unit in 3 months. Sort of.
They're both lefties (batsmen, that is; one suspects not politically), and both open the batting. Although while Strauss, in form, plays with silken and effortless, his innings punctuated with grace square of the wicket, Smith often looks like his batting with half a tree, half a shovel, and somehow makes a perfectly played ondrive look hideous and arthritic.
Both are brave cricketers. Smith's bravery is more obvious; he would bat with two broken hands and temporary blindness if he thought he could help South Africa win a friendly. Strauss' is more of the public school type: he might sound like he'd run for Mummy if someone called him a chubster, but don't be fooled. He got a hundred against Australia inspite of Warne saying lots of things about his Mummy, and Brett Lee hitting him on the head every 15 minutes. More tape, please, don't call Matron.
Smith has the superior average, 50 to Strauss' 44, but Smith does get to bat against England's bowlers, and at regularly bats at the runfest that is the Wanderers, whilst Strauss has to bat with the comically straight-limbed Cook, and plays at Chester-le-treet in April, which is surely worth 6 runs a year.
Both field at slip, although Smith's nucket hands make in anatomically impossible for him to drop a catch, like dropping a football into a volcano. Strauss generally catches blinders.
Both carry the hopes of their country on their shoulders, and have both recently won series against Australia. When Strauss makes runs, as he did all summer against the Australians, the side looks balanced, confident, purposeful. When the captain falls early, so does his team, like skittles, often all of them before it's even time for lunch. When Smith doesn't get out early - which actually means, if he survives the inevitable and palpaply out LBW shout in the first 2 overs - South Afrca wins. When he falls, they collapse like only... England can.
But then there are the differences.
First and foremost, it's very hard not to like Strauss, whilst it is physically impossible to do anything but loathe Smith, with his George W face and massive hands. Strauss is a gent and is, in spite of being brought up in South Africa, unimagineably English. Smith is a bully. Strauss, I have no doubt, would find a stray cat and search the streets for hours to return it to its owner. Smith would think about it, then kill, skin, and eat the cat if he thought no one was looking. According to cricinfo, Strauss went to Radley and then to Durham, wheras Smith has no education whatsoever.
These are the simple facts.
The rest
Without Kallis, the rest of the team are like a carbon copies of each other. Cook and Amla: both good, both fail to convert good starts.
Both teams have talented middle orders who average in the 40s by scoring like this: 10, 10, 0 ... should we drop him... 150no! Totally unreliable. Duminy looks the best bat, but is in Bopara-like form and Swann, the best spinner, might have him pinned.
England v South Africa
After a bizarrely unsatisfying Ashes series victory, England take themselves to South Africa to continue to not really dominate the world of cricket. On the back of a one day series that had England become only the 2nd foreign team to win a 1 day series on that soil, the question raises itself: why does no one still think they're any good?
In this series, England won 2 games in their sleep, and got absolutely hammered in the middle. The other two got rained off.
It was like mini-Ashes. When England played well, it was as though everyone was waiting for the bubble to burst, but sort of went with while it lasted. Collingwood batted like Strauss, Anderson swung it and therefore won a game within half an hour, Strauss caught like Collingwood.
Only hours before, Collingwood batted like Strauss circa 2006-7, Good Anderson bowled like Bad Anderson, and Struass caught like Panesar, dropping 3 catches in an hour.
Has there been a more perfectly imbalanced series as the forthcoming one between England and South Africa this winter? I would suggest there hasn't, and this is in no small part becuase England are essentially playing England. Or, the Trottskyists might argue, South Africa are playing South Africa.
But like South Africa, England look a good side when, and only when, their captain is at the crease.
They make for interesting comparison, the two captains: Strauss and Smith.
They're both captains, who took over their teams in relative peril. Smith took as captain when he was ridiculously young, 22, and the first thing he did was kick out Lance Klusener - a demiGod in South Africa at the time - who he thought was a divisive influence in the dressing room. A massive call. He essentially did to South Africa what Nasser Hussain did for England - kicked out anyone he didn't think had the hearse and turned them into the side that recently beat Australia in Australia. His 150no to win the series against England in England is one of the great Test innings (although, obviously, I wanted him to lose, and he was, as ever, plump lbw on early in his innings). Strauss took over a coachless/managerless England team destroyed by another South African, KP, in the West Indies, and turned them into an Ashes winning unit in 3 months. Sort of.
They're both lefties (batsmen, that is; one suspects not politically), and both open the batting. Although while Strauss, in form, plays with silken and effortless, his innings punctuated with grace square of the wicket, Smith often looks like his batting with half a tree, half a shovel, and somehow makes a perfectly played ondrive look hideous and arthritic.
Both are brave cricketers. Smith's bravery is more obvious; he would bat with two broken hands and temporary blindness if he thought he could help South Africa win a friendly. Strauss' is more of the public school type: he might sound like he'd run for Mummy if someone called him a chubster, but don't be fooled. He got a hundred against Australia inspite of Warne saying lots of things about his Mummy, and Brett Lee hitting him on the head every 15 minutes. More tape, please, don't call Matron.
Smith has the superior average, 50 to Strauss' 44, but Smith does get to bat against England's bowlers, and at regularly bats at the runfest that is the Wanderers, whilst Strauss has to bat with the comically straight-limbed Cook, and plays at Chester-le-treet in April, which is surely worth 6 runs a year.
Both field at slip, although Smith's nucket hands make in anatomically impossible for him to drop a catch, like dropping a football into a volcano. Strauss generally catches blinders.
Both carry the hopes of their country on their shoulders, and have both recently won series against Australia. When Strauss makes runs, as he did all summer against the Australians, the side looks balanced, confident, purposeful. When the captain falls early, so does his team, like skittles, often all of them before it's even time for lunch. When Smith doesn't get out early - which actually means, if he survives the inevitable and palpaply out LBW shout in the first 2 overs - South Afrca wins. When he falls, they collapse like only... England can.
But then there are the differences.
First and foremost, it's very hard not to like Strauss, whilst it is physically impossible to do anything but loathe Smith, with his George W face and massive hands. Strauss is a gent and is, in spite of being brought up in South Africa, unimagineably English. Smith is a bully. Strauss, I have no doubt, would find a stray cat and search the streets for hours to return it to its owner. Smith would think about it, then kill, skin, and eat the cat if he thought no one was looking. According to cricinfo, Strauss went to Radley and then to Durham, wheras Smith has no education whatsoever.
These are the simple facts.
The rest
Without Kallis, the rest of the team are like a carbon copies of each other. Cook and Amla: both good, both fail to convert good starts.
Both teams have talented middle orders who average in the 40s by scoring like this: 10, 10, 0 ... should we drop him... 150no! Totally unreliable. Duminy looks the best bat, but is in Bopara-like form and Swann, the best spinner, might have him pinned.
Both have compative, pugnacious and yes unpleasant but quite good wicketkeeper batsmen in Prior v Bouncher. Broad is a good all rounder but miles from the finished product, and so becomes a tasty Morkel. Anderson and Steyn are world beaters... when fit, when it swings, and when the good one turns up.
Is that such a surprise when the England team is very South Africa. In order of South Africanness, you have Trott (he's there right now!), Pieterson (famously), Prior (born there), Strauss (born there).
Either way, I still find that I want England to beat South Africa more than anyone. With Australia it's like fighting Goliath. But with this lot, for some more than others, it's a bit like they're playing themselves.
Enjoy the series.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Selling Petrol To Argentines
More petrol. Better asses.
Whilst the world focuses on Copenhagen, and what to do about Climate Change, this fair country is as ever both ahead of and right behind the game when it comes to using its natural resources.
I arrived at work on last Saturday morning for our end of year celebration, expecting to be met by a sea of miserable faces. Instead I was met by a chirpy colleague, positively skipping out of his (fully full of petrol) car.
- What's put you in such a good mood? I asked.
- Just stopped for petrol, he replied, as if communicating a secret.
Wondering briefly if this chap needed to get out more, I looked at him quizzically.
- You don't have a car, do you? he said, as if to clarify my suspicion that to him, stopping a car, lifting a lid, and filling a tank with petrol was absolute tops.
- Go on, I said.
- The new Shell estaciones de servicio? I'm still looking at him blankly. Right, he says, in a 'I'll start at the beginning' tone. Shell realised that more than a quarter of all petrol is sold on a Saturday morning, right? People filling a full tank before heading out of town for the weekend. So, who's filling the cars? Men. How do you get men to your petrol station?
In these times when using natural resources is tantamount, Shell lead the way by running the following advert in last month.
Shell argentina incorpora chicas sexy y hot con buen trato con los clientes para sus estaciones de servicio en capital y gran buenos aires mayores de 18 años el trabajo es de playera las interesadas enviar CV con fotos.
A playera is best translated as a hospitality girl, although literally translates to a shirt. Directly below the advert where the hopefuls. My favourite comment was from Silvina:
Hola que tal? Mi nombre es Silvina, tengo 20 años Hi. My name is Silvina. I am 20. Trabaje 2 años en una estacion de servicio shell I worked for 2 years at a Shel service station. Soy simpatica I'm friendly Me encanta tratar con la gente I love working with people Y estoy acostumbrada a llevar uniformes extrovertidos And I am used to working in extrovert uniforms. Tengo una buena cola. I have a great ass.

Well, it might not stop Bangladesh from having another draught/flood year, but it's a very Argentine response. And good luck to you, Silvina.
Whilst the world focuses on Copenhagen, and what to do about Climate Change, this fair country is as ever both ahead of and right behind the game when it comes to using its natural resources.I arrived at work on last Saturday morning for our end of year celebration, expecting to be met by a sea of miserable faces. Instead I was met by a chirpy colleague, positively skipping out of his (fully full of petrol) car.
- What's put you in such a good mood? I asked.
- Just stopped for petrol, he replied, as if communicating a secret.
Wondering briefly if this chap needed to get out more, I looked at him quizzically.
- You don't have a car, do you? he said, as if to clarify my suspicion that to him, stopping a car, lifting a lid, and filling a tank with petrol was absolute tops.
- Go on, I said.
- The new Shell estaciones de servicio? I'm still looking at him blankly. Right, he says, in a 'I'll start at the beginning' tone. Shell realised that more than a quarter of all petrol is sold on a Saturday morning, right? People filling a full tank before heading out of town for the weekend. So, who's filling the cars? Men. How do you get men to your petrol station?
In these times when using natural resources is tantamount, Shell lead the way by running the following advert in last month.
Shell argentina incorpora chicas sexy y hot con buen trato con los clientes para sus estaciones de servicio en capital y gran buenos aires mayores de 18 años el trabajo es de playera las interesadas enviar CV con fotos.
A playera is best translated as a hospitality girl, although literally translates to a shirt. Directly below the advert where the hopefuls. My favourite comment was from Silvina:
Hola que tal? Mi nombre es Silvina, tengo 20 años Hi. My name is Silvina. I am 20. Trabaje 2 años en una estacion de servicio shell I worked for 2 years at a Shel service station. Soy simpatica I'm friendly Me encanta tratar con la gente I love working with people Y estoy acostumbrada a llevar uniformes extrovertidos And I am used to working in extrovert uniforms. Tengo una buena cola. I have a great ass.

Well, it might not stop Bangladesh from having another draught/flood year, but it's a very Argentine response. And good luck to you, Silvina.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Long Live the NHS

Been feeling ill recently. Without boring you with the details, I needed a doctor's certificate. The rule here is that you need a doctor's certificate for each and every day you are off sick. And this meant that I had to throw myself into the national lottery that is the call out paramedic/doctor.
In the UK I believe you do this only once you've been off for 5 days. That way you do not burden an already overburdened NHS by calling out a doctor to confirm that you do indeed have the sniffles, and it is nothing to do with the fact that you've just really got into The Wire: Series 3 and you're shamming it for a working week.
Anyway, no certificate, no pay that day. This is so strictly enforced that a colleague of mine had to take a day off (unpaid) to get a sick note from his doctor (9 -5 appointments only) to get paid for his sick day. But had he not done that he'd have been marked down AWOL for a day, which is sackable, and consequently missed two days instead of one.
You never quite know what you're going to get with the medical system here, I find. Often it's excellent, efficient, highly professional. Often it is barkingly mad, with a level of informality that you literally would not believe. From my immediate circle I know one person whose gynecologist gives her a friendly pat on the bum at the end of each appointment, and someone who called a doctor out and, after he asked her a series of questions such as: "So, you alone in here?" he asked her out. Before he'd examined her. And an honorable mention for our midwife, who turned up, a good hour after she'd arranged to meet us, a good 4 hours after Katie's waters had broken, with an armful of liquidación shopping bags. Can't miss a bargain on a Saturday, baby or no baby.
This is not entirely surprising. This must be one of the only countries in the world where you do not need very high grades to study medicine. You do at UBA - the eminently respectable public University of Buenos Aires. But you don't at any number of private universities around the province. And I have taught some deeply average students who, a couple of years later appear back at school, comfortably completing their 2nd year in Med School. Terrifying. If some of them appeared at my bedside table, I'd operate on myself.
So I shouldn't have been surprised when Lady Doc arrived on Saturday evening. Maybe I was in a crap mood because Scotland had just been beaten by the Pumas. Again. Maybe it was because I had a temperature of 40 degrees. But after a mumbled Spanish conversation - bit tired... yes, I've been drinking water... no, I'm not on any medication.... yes, The Wire, it's excellent... - There was a slight misunderstanding regarding how long I'd "been here" (I thought she meant the country, she meant in bed... so I said 2 and a bit years), and I asked her for her diagnosis.
Lowering her stethoscope, she looked me in the eye and said:
- Very bad, your Spanish.
As you might imagine, it took me a little while to process this, partly because she spoke so slowly I had time to worry about the very bad... bit, assuming this related to my physical condition, and not my incorrect use of the subjunctive.
Furious, I took my ordens that work would need, and asked her a simple question.
- What's your job?
- I am doctor, she said.
- A doctor. Not a Spanish teacher then?
- No no, she joked.
- Then your job's done, isn't it? Out.
Which she did, without so much as asking for my number or even trying to pat me on the arse. What's coming to the profession?
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Goldalot and the 3 Bears
Couldn't post this on youtube, no idea why, so trying again here.
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