Election 2015 - It's all kicking off

I suppose I need to make a few topical jottings to reflect the near hysteria mild interest in the approaching dissolution of Parliament. It's odd to have the date fixed so far in advance. Speculation about precisely when an election would take place could be guaranteed to fill many column inches  in the Press in the old days. Today other stories are jostling for attention instead

• David Cameron's TV interview where he revealed his intention to stand down after a second full term and named his likely successors.
• Nigel Farage's attempts to keep some sort of party around him as candidate after candidate implodes
• The SNP, resurgent after the near defeat in the Referendum, fancies itself to hold the balance of power once it has done terrible damage to the other parties in the Scottish seats.

None of this has much bearing on the policies we might expect from an incoming government. If I can make out any of it out, I shall report back.

The Eclipse - myths and reality

Before we are plunged into the stygian blackness of the total solar eclipse tomorrow, Ramblings wants to ensure all of its readers are safe and well-informed. Here is our handy cut-out-n-throw-away guide to everything you need to know.

• Never look directly at the sun. Use a piece of smoked trout. With a suitable piece, cut a small hole, mount the fish on a tripod and let the sun's image project onto a TV screen (you have a portable set that can be moved outside, haven't you?). Now you can host your own TV chat show in total safety, with lots of Dara O'Brain type interventions such as "This is all a bit fishy" and "These scales show the scale of the event".
• Never look directly at your neighbours. If they are out with binoculars and surveillance equipment, looking at them is a dead give-away. With your head facing away at an angle of 38⁰ sneak a crafty peek out of the corner of your eye. Don't forget to make copious notes afterwards,
• Do not try flying a drone equipped with your iphone6 in a vain attempt to make a better picture. When the eclipse begins the drop in solar radiation will play havoc with the inertial navigation systems, the drone will crash in your neighbour's garden and your phone, with any possibly incriminating photographs, will be in their possession.
• Do not attempt to take a selfie involving yourself, your spouse and children, and the Sun at the moment of eclipse. For this to work all of you must face away from the Sun with the camera pointing back at you. The light will not only burn out the optics but the reflections could give a nasty case of sunburn. If you wait until total darkness, then the flash will fire and all you will see are your own startled faces blinking back. Waste of time.
• Do not bother hosting a last-minute wine and cheese party. It will all be over by 10:40 and who wants to sip warm white wine at that time in the morning?
• Do not watch television broadcasts of the eclipse without something hard to bite on every time:
• There is a shot of a presenter getting into an aircraft
• There is a shot of a presenter in an aircraft, with headphones on, pointing out of the window and saying what a great view she has
• There is a shot of a presenter in an aircraft going "Wow"
• There is a shot of someone in the studio going "Wow"
• Someone brings up the old "use smoked glass" myth. See above
• Regional news infills show you wise old crofters shading their eyes, ice-cream salesmen in the south bemoaning their fate, tourists in Oxford Street taking no notice, smoked trout salesmen rubbing their hands with glee.
• A real expert on solar physics is asked to explain about coronal mass ejections, sun-spots, solar flares, the solar wind, the sun's magnetic cycle and other stuff of enormous importance to us living on this planet, and who is cut off after a minute because we have to go to the news headlines.

These rules will keep you fit and stress free, and you can eat the trout with a nice piece of brown bread the moment it is all over.

How dumb is Facebook?

For no very good reason, I wandered onto Facebook and checked out "Ruislip". It has a page headed "Ruislip, Slough, Middlesex". I should have quit there and then, but...

In the same way that a motorist getting increasingly lost in a strange city will plough on rather than ask a passerby for directions, (or is that just me?) I noticed a section inviting edits. It asked me to confirm if Uxbridge Lido (a swimming pool) and Ruislip Lido (a lake and nature reserve in the centre of the historic Ruislip Woods) were the same thing. Perhaps nobody at Facebook has encountered the word lido before. Perhaps they ask visitors to the Venice page if the Venice Lido is actually the same thing as the Uxbridge Lido. Or if Venice Beach (California) is the place to go for a dip after a visit to the Rialto?

It then asked if a webreference to the Borough of Hillingdon (in which we live, not Slough) was the same as some obvious Welsh website which I cannot pronounce. 

There is nowhere I could see that would allow me to correct the unbelievable linkage of our beautiful and ancient village with the industrial mess 10 miles away to the south-west. At this point I threw in the towel and left. Visitors to Facebook will have to make of it what they will. But if they seek after truth, I suggest they find alternatives.

Meanwhile, in a shopping mall near Corleone...

 As investigations continue into goings-on at the supermarket giant we all love to hate, I am indebted to The Guardian for this quote from a story about enquiries by the "Groceries Code Adjudicator", Christine Tacon.

As Tacon highlighted some of her leading concerns about the practices at Tesco, MSP Mike Russell said such schemes were new to him. “I had only read about them and seen them in films like The God­father,” he said.

I don't know what Ms. Tacon's take on that was [And they said Music Hall was dead: Ed] but here's the so-obvious one from Ramblings.

They brought Aldi into the inner room at the back, the room where no woman was permitted to enter. Tagliatelli was there, face impassive, his clipboard as always in his left hand. Fresco nodded once but made no sign. Behind the huge desk the Don sat staring out at the trolleys in the car park and nobody dared speak until he slowly turned and his gaze bore into Aldi with all the impact of a double Clubcard promotion special.

"I am disappointed in you, my son. I put you in charge of your own aisle. I let you put up the pricing stickers yourself. You grow fat on the date-expired chocolates I let you keep, huh? And all I ask is ... a little respect"

Sweat broke out on Aldi's forehead. He saw the Arab, Al-Dente shift slightly where he stood poised beside the 42 inch TV (Special offer, buy now) in the corner. He remembered that nobody had ever found the remains of Al's former boss, Bud Gen. The silence in the room closed on in him, He fingered his tie, tried to breathe normally.

"I always respected you Godfather"

"But you never came to me and said 'Godfather, I bought some biscuits on a two for one, share them with me.' You did not invite me to your daughter's birthday party although you took the crate of lemonade delivered here by mistake with a wrong docket number.  You had dealings with the Jew, Morry and his sons - ah, you see, I know everything. And when that Scotsman, Macfisheries, make you an offer to work for him? You think I don't know?"

Aldi knew he was finished. He saw the men around him watch him like a three day old sandwich, fit only for the rubbish bin. The Godfather sighed.

"I had such plans for you. But now...   You wait outside a moment, ok?"

Aldi shuffled out, sat on the hard chair and the door closed. The Godfather looked at his trusted Capo d'aisles.

"I want this done properly. Nobody to know, nobody to get hurt"

Fresco put his hand to his pocket where he always kept his green marker pen for special promotions.

"We do it the safe way, Godfather"

The blizzard strikes Ruislip (not)

While the eastern United States suffered snowstorms that shut down flights and cities, and northern UK had a bit of the same, we in beautiful Ruislip awoke this fine morning to find a light dusting of the white stuff. I waved a scraper at my car windscreen and most of it fell cleanly away - fortunately there was no ice underneath.

It's been cold for the past few days, temperatures dipping below zero most nights, in sharp contrast to the mild and wet January, and it feels more like winter ought to.  The Met Office people speak of blocking systems and diverted jetstreams and the like but really it is just business as usual. However whether the milder start to the year has pushed plants into a premature growth that the frosts will kill off - we will see in a few weeks time.

And speaking of commuting, which I wasn't, the Met line has been suffering a bit with all sorts of problems. Yesterday, when Mrs. Commuter and I went Londonwards, there were some gaps in the service so we had sprinted up the steps as a train came in; coming back a couple of hours later a signal failure at Moorgate had paralysed the line and it was running with severe delays. We took a Jubbly in the hope of catching a train that might start at Wembley Park but by the time we had got there the Met was running through trains again.