Everyone loves a rugby man

I make no apologies, this post is just an excuse to get some pretty arses up on my blog. You ready? Good.

Milla (her again!) has questioned why women think rugby men are good looking. I feel it is my duty (and, I cannot lie, my pleasure) to use words and photos to explain the attraction.

Compelling argument one: variety is the spice of life

No matter how you like 'em... tall, small, chubby, thin, there's a rugby man for you out there somewhere. The diversity of the positions means that there are a huge range of different body shapes and sizes playing.

Compelling argument two: Real men

Unlike other sportsmen, rugby men rarely feel pain. They can carry on playing with head injuries, broken fingers, toes, ribs. This makes them manly. Fact.










Compelling argument three: they're not footballers

They don't fall over and pretend they're hurt. They don't argue with the ref. They don't get paid far too much for doing bugger all. They don't play football.

And surely that's reason enough?

There are obviously lots of other reasons:

They're generally all aminable chaps
They tend not to get involved in orgies
The game stays on the pitch
All problems in life can be solved by a beer

I'm slightly biased, I must admit, since N is very much a rugby man. However, having once dabbled with the football playing fraternity I can honestly say that a rugby man makes a much better boyfriend. For me. I'm not saying that all footballers are bad. I'm not saying that they don't make good boyfriends. I am saying that I can't imagine spending that much time with someone who obsesses over the wrong shaped ball.

Something I promised I wouldn't do...

... is drunken blog.

Yes, in a looooooooong conversation with Ollie I promised I would never blog when drunk.

Well. I gave in. It's 1:19 in the morning, I've had a couple of cheeky vimtos (port and WKD blue in case you didn't know) and hey, I've decided to blog.

The lovely Edward, other half of the fabulous Milla, sent me something off my wishlist - the Scouting for Girls album. I do like it but...

1. The first song sounds likes the words and the backing track are from completely different songs.

2. All the rest of the songs are from the "repeat the words over and over again and maybe someone will like it" school. Great for people like N who can't remember any words but not so good for me who knows all the words to EVERY SONG EVER MADE.

It's alright - not a patch on Jonny Cash though.

Thank you Edward - appreciated.

In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire...

A bout of chuntering with Milla has led me to realise how unforgiving I am of those who incur my grammatical, stylistical and vocabularical wrath (and yes, vocabularical is a word. A word I made up. Shush, I'm ranting)

There are a couple of things which really really really annoy me.

Toilet:
It's not a toilet. It's a loo. The origins of "loo" are unknown but there are a number of wonderful theories... all which are much better than toilet (which seems to be an Americanism). Lavatory (from the Latin lavātōrium) is of course, even better.

Lounge:
Unless you live in an airport, you do not have a lounge in your house. You have a sitting room (which is normally slightly more informal) or possibly a drawing room. Not used for drawing, but rather withdrawing.

Couch:
Sofa. Sofa. Sofa. Couch? Brings up visions of Land of Leather. Ditto settee

Serviette:
It may sound French. It may be French. It's still horrible. You probably get serviettes in a McDonalds. If you're at my house, you get napkins.

Tux/Tuxedo:
Another Americanism (and hey, this isn't a beat-the-Americans-over-the-head-with-a-stick post it's just I don't like certain ways they do things... politics amongst others). It's a dinner jacket. You wear it when having dinner. Which neatly leads me onto...

Tea/Dinner:
I've never understood this one. In my house it was always... Breakfast, Lunch, Tea, Supper. Breakfast is pretty self-explanatory. Lunch, meal in the middle of the day. Tea, either a cup of tea or a small snack when home from school (at around 4/5 ish). Supper, meal at the end of the day, around 8/9 o'clock. Some people have Breakfast, Dinner and then Tea. How does that work?

Hello, pleased/nice to meet you/how's it going:
Even I have to admit, I'm a bit slack with this one... it depends to whom I am talking. Interviewers, friends of parents, N's parents/friends, certain people I went to uni/school with? "Hello. How d'you do?". Random person I'm being introduced to in the pub? "Hi, how's it going?"

Setting the table:
Fork on the left. Knife on the right (blade facing in please). Finished eating? Knife and fork together in the middle of the plate (blade again, facing in).

Eating:
Fork in left hand, knife in right. Elbows off table (unless you've finished). Finishing your mouthful before talking. Wait until everyone's got food before starting. Napkins on lap, not tucked in anywhere else. If you're a child, ask to leave the table, don't just assume you can. If you're an adult and you need to go somewhere, excuse yourself. If you're a guest, always offer to help clear away. Don't stack the plates. Certainly don't scape the plates at the table. Take them out to the kitchen 2 (or 3 if you can manage it) at a time.

Snobbish? Maybe. Sue me.

EDIT 200308: Thank you peach - a typo meant I'd completely undone all my ranting previously. Knife is now firmly placed in the right hand. Phew.

The one where I pretend I know what I'm talking about...

James at The Ink has shamelessly stolen other people's ideas (alright, asked nicely for people to give their ideas... I'm just sore because mine wasn't chosen) and written a post of his top tip golden blogging rules.

For what it's worth, here are mine...

• Blog interesting
• If you don't think you're very interesting, invent a new persona... Contortionist? Burlesque dancer? Accountant? Whatever floats your boat.
• Don't worry too much about blogging regularly. Real life does happen. You will have other things that keep you busy. It's not your job. Like all hobbies, blogging can't take over your life.
• Be part of the community dude... that means reading other people's blogs, that means commenting and that means actually be interested in other people - it's not all about you, despite what you might think.
• Make sure your writing is readable. No txt spk hr - I dnt udersnd it (is that right?). I understand l33tspe3k even less. i \/\/3\T t0 tH3 5h0p2 t0d4Y 4\d 80U9hT 4 l04f 0F 8r34D just won't cut it. Remember what your teacher taught you.
• Realise this is the internet - you never know who's reading. No matter how much you try and keep your blog quiet, it's likely that someone you know will, at some point, read it. Write accordingly. Don't censor your work, just think how it would feel if you found your name blazed across some internet site. Use pseudonyms.
• Don't let the bastards grind you down. Occasionally in the big bad world of the internet, you're going to come across people you don't like. Solution? Easy. Don't visit their site again. It's ok not to like people, you don't have to beat yourself over the head about it.
• If you're having a bit of a brain-freeze, look at the news, look at other blogs, look up random words... or, if all else fails, go and find a meme to answer.
• It doesn't matter what you blog about as long as it's your own perspective on something. The reason people read your blog is because they want to know what you think... not what Norma Major said about Edwina Currie (or whatever)
• No matter how dull you think a subject is, I bet you can make it interesting.

Gosh, that's all a bit too serious for me. Sorry.

Normal service will be resumed once I a) start following all my rules from above and b) think of something worthwhile to write about.

About another 3 days then...

Can it be true...?

Picture shamelessly stolen from Mzungu Chick but I'm sure she won't mind!

Finally, Odinga and Kibaki have signed a deal. It's a start. That has to be a good thing. The most exciting thing for me is the fact that hopefully the Kenyan people can start getting back to normal now.

My mother called me. She said that John and Daniel were "jumping round the garden". And that's what it's all about. The sense of relief felt by the Kenyan people must be immense. As I browse through my "Kenyan" blogs, I almost feel as if a huge weight has been lifted. There are questions that still remain of course but hopefully now, Kenya can start answering them.

PS the 'real' post I was going to write today can be written later.

Help save the Mara...

picture (c) The Mara Conservancy

Richard Leakey and friends over at Wildlife Direct have highlighted the problems facing the Mara due to the recent troubles in Kenya. The massive decline in tourists means that the management of the Mara are facing financial difficulties. As a result, it's looking like they won't be able to pay for the important things that keep the park what it is (such as poacher patrols, fire breaks etc).

You can find out more information about what they need money for and how you can help here.

If you do one good thing today, let it be donating $10 (£5) to this cause.

Have you had an accident at work...?

Anna over at little.red.boat (a cracking read by the way, much recommended) has recently had a rant about a large processed chicken fast food chain advert. Her justified anger made me angry just thinking about all those adverts which just make me scream at the screen. I figured the only way to purge myself of this anger and free myself to get on with some work was to rant. Uncontrollably. Forgive me.

The Advertising Hall of Shame (as voted for by a screaming nutty cow):

Picture the loan - A couple of things really annoy me about this advert. Leaving aside all the moral issues about advertising debt to people who are already in debt (Carol Vorderman, I'm talking to you here, too) consider the following. Why would you film your loved one on the phone when they were sorting out a consolidation loan? It's not something you're going to show the grandchildren, is it? "Look dear, this is when we got ourselves into more debt, just before we declared ourselves bankrupt!". Secondly, the... "how much do you want to borrow? £25,000?" - the casual way in which this couple discuss their finances leads me feel that they shouldn't have access to a piggy bank, let alone £25,000.

Frosties - "They might taste great/but they make me irate/Frosties adverts are something I really hate" the most annoying jingle in the last 20 years. Believe me, you'll have it running through your head for the rest of the day. And while I'm at it... surely it's just wrong to rhyme "great" with "pirate"?
PS. While searching for a suitable photo I found this article... tee hee.


Halifax - Somewhere in advertising land, a brainstorming session is underway. "I tell you what would be really great... an advert... with real people... singing real songs which we can amend to make them applicable to banking! What d'ya think of that?" "Great idea Bob!". Well, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Bob, but it wasn't a great idea. It was a shit idea. Banks are supposed to be trustworthy, have an air of gravitas. Would you trust your bank manager if you knew that two weeks ago he was prancing around in spandex singing a poor rendition of "We are sailing", sorry "We are saving"? No, didn't think so. Think of the children people.

DulcoEase - The first thing I do when I go out for lunch with my friends is talk to them about the trouble I've had trying to do a poo. Really, it is. And you know what, more often than not they just happen to have a handy pack of laxatives in their handbag. Aren't girls just great?

Seriously, does this ever happen?

My handbag contents normally consist of a phone, keys, wallet, some cigarettes, possibly a lighter. On occasion I have makeup and even, more rarely, some paracetemol. I don't think I've ever got ready for a night out and thought "Hmmm, better put some of these bad boys in. You know, just in case I have a strained moment."

Hearing about the bowel movements of my closest friends is just not something I expect. Boys, I know, have an obsession with anything scatalogical. Us ladies, I think we're a tad more refined.

Glade - Continuing with the poo theme (I'm starting to sound a little bit like ScaryDuck here) small child on loo shouting "it's all gone, it's all gone" (in a really badly dubbed "English" accent). 1. The offending "touch 'n' fresh is about 4 foot away. How did he discover it was empty? He must have shuffled over there. 2. Where did he get the pen and paper from? He must have shuffled around to find some - possibly in another room. 3. How did he manage to push it under the door without getting off the loo? He didn't, he would have had to move. So, with all this movement, theoretically he could have got up, wiped arse, pulled trousers up, washed hands etc, and then changed the glade thing. But oh no, small child still couldn't be bothered to change the glade thingy. Lazy child.

What's annoying you today?

EDIT: Just had to go through that post and amend all the typos. Obviously my anger at these adverts has taken itself out on my typing.

Pimp yourself out (in more ways than one)

It's not that I'm anti-Valentine's Day (and in fact N did cook me a lovely supper last night because he knew he wouldn't be around tonight) but I still love these cards

Also... Peach is putting together a book of different bloggers' writing in aid of WARCHILD. I'm not going to submit anything (unless someone can suggest a suitable topic) but you should. Yes, you... standing over there. Go and have a look.

I know someone what did something good

Was very pleased to see my very good friend's sticking it to the Government. Pah! Knew we couldn't trust them.

P.S. Oh and by the way, in my eyes, there are a couple of things more to life than shoes. Chocolate and red wine for starters ;)

Fishing for compliments

I seem to be lapsing into a state where I don't even bother to write my own posts anymore. What can I say, I'm not a writer, there are people out there who write things much more eloquently than I can.

Kenya: a quick update

Email from my mother:

Things seem to be going from bad to worse at the moment here - Nakuru and Naivasha a blood bath over the weekend. Just cannot see an end to it all. It is now beyond political violence it is more like ethnic cleansing.

Considering this is my mother speaking (generally a positive, "things will be alright in the end, everything happens for a reason" kind of gal") it seems things in Kenya are a lot worse that is being reported over here.

I think I'll leave the analysis to the people on the ground.

More Kenya bits 'n' bobs

A short one today, and not even written by me.

Came across this article. I think it succinctly sums up the problems in Kenya at the moment with its last line "It is ripping the country apart."

A bluffer's guide to work

I can just tell it's going to be one of those days.

You know the ones I mean. The ones where you *know* you have a pile of work ten foot high to finish and yet somehow, you just can't be bothered to get round to doing it.

You surf the net doing "research", you make a cup of tea, you tidy your desk (tidy desk = tidy mind = more work. Honestly, Mr Manager), you "consult" your colleagues, you send a few vital emails. But still, at the end of the day. The work's still there, waiting to be finished.

However, there is a plus side to all this. As a result of my "research" I've stumbled upon some really well written, interesting, amusing blogs. I thought I'd share.

South of West - a quick google of Rob Crilly tells me that he writes for an wide range of publications and someone thinks he's a great teacher.

Reluctant Memsahib - Another journalist, Anthea just amuses me.

Advertising: the Kenya way

Shashank Bengali over at Somewhere in Africa and the ever informative Kenyan Pundit have drawn my attention to the most bizarre set of adverts I've ever seen - all paid for by the Kenyan Government (i.e the Kenyan people).

Now I'm not one to normally read the Guardian. In fact, I'm probably as far removed from a typical Guardian reader as you've ever likely to get.

However. Kenyan Pundit (a great source of information regarding the recent elections) has pointed me towards this very interesting article written a couple of weeks ago. Any thoughts?

My new find, Norm, has been asking his readers who their favourite English language authors are. For me, it depends who I'm talking to. With some people I could probably be completely honest, with others, I'd make something up, just to please them.

Anyway, it got me thinking about writing and writers and then about Jane Austen (I was actually thinking about Sense and Sensibility - oh Edward - although I got there from writers, I don't know) and anyway... then I wondered... is there anyone living today with the same way with words as she had? Don't worry, this isn't my cue to turn into one of those scary Americans who dress up in funny clothes and quote endlessly. Although...

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, talent. There are very few modern authors that I read who have the easy style with words like Austen (or Dickens or Trollope or ... cont pg 84). I'm not saying that modern books are bad or in any way worse than their predecessors but I just wonder whether the modern day has affected the quality of literature we're offered. It seems that anyone can now become a published author, just because they have some form of notoriety - and, I would imagine, more often than not, the writing is not a fiction with characters and plots and themes, but a literary regurgitation of self-indulgence.

With the writing standards of our children continuing to fall and more and more "celebrities" wanting to push their stories out to the impressionable youth, will England ever have any standard of writing to be proud about again?

Nick Wadhams makes a very interesting point here about the situation in Kenya. It always bemuses me at how fickle the media can be. One minute Kenya is the big news story of the hour, the next, an (admittedly cute) octopus is headline news.

Why is that? Is it because there's not enough death and gore for the picture editors to drool over? People are still dying. People are still hungry. People still have nowhere to live. In order to highlight the issue, a number of Kenyan bloggers have pulled together to create Ushahidi - a website dedicated in reporting the unseen troubles which are still going on at home.

Personally, I don't know what the solution is. I'm not there and I don't have a vote so I don't really feel in any way qualified to make a comment. I don't think anyone is in any doubt that the elections were rigged however I can't see any way to make it all better. Surely if Odinga forcibly takes over then he is no better than Kibaki?

My trip away was lovely. It was cold (boy was it cold) but it was so nice to discover a new town.

I've never been to Switzerland before. On the way over in the plane I was desperately brushing up on my French, hoping against hope that I wouldn't bump into a German or Italian Swiss.

"Bonjour madame"
"Je voudrais..."
" Deux biers s'il vous plait" etc

I really could have done with our favourite translator there. Maybe I could have squeezed her into my suitcase and then dragged her around after me on a short lead. (Oh alright, I would have given her a long lead. Otherwise she'd start complaining about "lead rights" or somesuch nonsense with fellow bloggers.)

But it really was beautiful there.

The town seems to be broken in two. At the top, lovely old buildings with a real "Europe" feel about them. From the balcony of the hotel, houses and buildings sweep before you with the solid bookstop of the Alps on the horizon. At the bottom of the town it was more modern, industrial. Space age buildings holding secret conferences with each other. Vast numbers of yachts nudging each other aside sceaming "look at me! look at me! I'm the most expensive."

The people are lovely. Considering they have to pay 50 odd francs for a bottle of Swiss wine (that's about £25, fact fans) and they can only shop in a Co-op, they're suprisingly cheerful. It must be all that electricity whizzing about.

Even the robbers are polite. Tap-tapping away on the Blackberry on my way to a meeting (yes I know, how corporate of me!) I felt a nudge. I looked down to see someone's hand in my bag. "Oi" quoth I (in my "I've got an English degree don't'cha know?" way)

"Ah! Pardon madame!" (I'm a "mademoiselle" actually monsieur) and with that he gave me a shifty look and hopped off the bus. Très charmant!

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Anx
Happy birthday to you

There, will that do as a birthday pressie?

Someone has stolen my blog