Heads we win, tails we win.

My mother-in-law is not in the best of health and is living in a care home. On her behalf, Mrs. C and I opened a letter from the Department of Work and Pensions concerning her entitlement to Attendance Allowance. One of the sections is about changes to personal circumstances that they need to know and included in the list is the following (and remember this is addressed directly to my M-I-L, not to us):

If you become incapable of managing your own affairs

This has to be a classic example of Joseph Heller's Catch-22*. For if one is not capable of managing one's affairs then one is hardly likely to be able to digest a long Government letter let alone send a reply. And if one does make a reply to say that one is not capable, this surely would be deemed proof of capability.

We aim to sidestep this conundrum by explaining that she is not capable of managing her affairs, but that we are.


* For those unfamiliar with the origin of this now well-known phrase, it was the trap that ensnared Heller's protagonist - an air force pilot in the second world war desperate to avoid going on another, extremely dangerous, mission. The only outlet was to plead insanity but since only a sane man would make such a plea, it was automatically rejected.

The Virus On My Computer

I am so used to receiving calls from liars, claiming that there is a problem on my computer and would I kindly let them have unlimited access to it, (such as this one), that it gives me great pleasure to think up ways to baffle and irritate them. Today I made a breakthrough. The phone rang and there was the customary silence before someone with a distinctly foreign accent asked if I was the "principal user of the computer" and then, ignoring my answer, began his spiel about my computer having been hacked and being a source of viruses.

At this point I had one of those lightbulb moments. "Yes" I untruthfully replied "I am the one who hacked it and filled it full of viruses".  I was about to launch into a detailed list of some of them and the awful things that they would do his systems if he was foolish enough to attempt to connect to mine but he panicked and rang off at once. I think he might have thought that I could send a virus down the phone.

I think it not a bad idea to have a ready made list of fictitious malware that one can quote back at these people so here are a few to get going with:

• Slicer
• Destructo-B
• Moneygrab
• Bye-bye Bytes
• Tharg triple-tested
• Deathstrangler
• Boaty McBoat Face
• Atahualpa's Revenge
• Heavy Roller
• Krusher2018

And no doubt you can come up with some of your own. Happy inventing.

Dr. Commuter advises ... Tesco

This plaintive cry for help was part of an advertisement for Tesco's home delivery service. Why come home to an empty fridge indeed? A top level team at Ramblings has been tasked with finding out the answers and here they are.

1. Shop once a week or so, fill up your fridge with the food that you need and, amazingly, you won't come home to an empty fridge. But see 2.
2. Is your problem that, the moment you fill up your fridge, the lodgers raid it and leave it empty? Dr. Commuter suggests that you evict them forthwith
3. Don't go out to work then you won't need to come home.
4. Don't come home.
5. Throw away your fridge and store food in a larder, a meat-safe, a cellar and an ice-house built into your grounds. It was good enough for the Victorian aristocracy so it should be good enough for you.

If you have any questions for Dr. Commuter then do please get in touch at the usual address. Terms and conditions do not apply, unless we can think of some in the meantime.

All Fished Out

Fate has played a cruel trick on us. The day before we were due to travel up north to tour the Isle of Man it became apparent there was a leak in the little pond in the garden and that our resident population of eight fish were at risk. Working at top speed Mrs C and myself bailed it out and retrieved them, using a variety of containers to hold the pond-water and plants. We were amazed to find about a dozen baby fish (not to mention two little newts); there had been very little sign of any breeding activity earlier this year and it has been several years since the last lot of youngsters.

All seemed well with the fish in their emergency accommodation on our return home but, on examination of the pond, everything went horribly wrong. There was a nasty cracking sound under my feet and water began gushing up through a split in the bottom as if we had struck oil. Clearly the water that had been leaking out had not filtered out into the garden but somehow been held under pressure below the plastic pond base. All thought of trying to fix the original leak was gone; the stark choice was to try to rebuild the pond or abandon it and having considered the increasing amount of work needed to keep it going (especially in these dreadful times of heatwave and drought), we plumped for the easy way out.

A brief message on Facebook about the plight of the fish was enough to bring round Kevin (and son), who were happy to add my motley lot to their existing brood, and at a stroke the aquatic population of our garden was reduced to zero (I should add that the newts were nowhere to be found and are regarded as escapees. Good luck to them).

So all the work of cleaning it all out last year and restocking with new plants in the hope of encouraging the fish to breed was simultaneously successful and utterly in vain. Damn and blast! The only good that has come out of it is that I no longer have to worry about endlessly pulling out strings of disgusting slimy algae from the black depths. We shall fill in the pond and plant some suitable damp-loving plants instead.

Stepping back in time on Man

Mrs C. and I escaped the heatwave in the south-east for a few delightful days spent roaming around the Isle of Man. This was our first visit so we did all the usual touristy things but with a special emphasis on the island's heritage transport systems. Horse-drawn trams run along the promenade at Douglas (right outside our hotel bedroom), there is an electric light railway going north from Douglas to Ramsey with a spur that takes you right to the top of Snaefell (and we were lucky to be there on a glorious day of magnificent views and brilliant blue skies) and the steam railway (on a three-foot gauge) runs to the south via the old capital at Castletown to Port Erin.

I haven't put many tram or railway photos up for a while so I'm going to make up for it now. Enjoy!

Summit of Snaefell at 2036'

Electric tram

Steam loco ready to leave Douglas

Horse tram along Douglas promenade