Friday 31 August 2012

Rainy Days and Sundays

There is nothing I love more than to curl up with the newspapers and a pot of tea on a Sunday afternoon. When I lived abroad it was the one thing I really missed.  The various columnists with their take on the week's news and the behind-the-scenes reports from journalists in the world's hotspots and fleshpots have always held a fascination for me.  
My real weakness, though, is the glossy lifestyle magazines. I drool over houses with divine gardens and conservatories and kitchens fitted out like operating theatres. That little bijou apartment in Bayswater with a view of the park. Small but luxurious. London on your doorstep. Sigh, sigh.  Or - if you prefer the country - the ivy-covered cottage by the sea down in Co. Mayo with the cute little love-seat in the garden. Might need a little makeover but a bargain at the price.
When I've picked the house of my dreams - usually with reservations such as "not too keen on the second guest bedroom, needs refurbishing" - I turn my attention to the cookery section. This is just as much of an adventure, especially for someone like me who has three main dishes at her fingertips:  pasta with tomato and basil sauce served with a side salad; chicken breast in lemon and herbs with roast potatoes and a veg. if you're lucky; and beef curry with rice and a side salad, the curry sauce comes out of a glass jar and has only seen Madras at the factory.  Looking over the exotic dishes in the lifestyle magazine I realize how lacking in imagination my cooking really is - yes, I know you've spotted that yourselves. I tear out the recipes even though I know I am never going to use them.  The crostini with salsa verde just isn't going to taste right no matter what care I take to prepare it. I won't go into my attempts at that steak recipe using Tequila.  And if I do manage to bake one of those oh-so-easy-to-make cakes, it might taste okay but it always looks as if the mice were at it. So all I have is a drawer-full of glossy recipes, most of which I'm too scared to try out. Beans on toast, anyone?
And then there are the wines. I adore those descriptions, they get my taste buds working overtime:  silky, nutty, fruity with an edge of blackcurrant. How's that again - "an edge of blackcurrant"?  I could probably get the same effect at half the price using a dash of Ribena mixed with Australian shiraz.  But it does all sound too, too romantic, doesn't it? Makes me want to pop down the off licence and look as if I know what I'm doing when I pick out a wine.
When I've extracted the last bit of pleasure from the glossies, I feel geared up for the week again.  Who knows what gems - houses, recipes or wines - are awaiting me in next Sunday's offerings?

Saturday 25 August 2012

Birds and Brains

I recently read the results of a scientific study led by Dr. Christian Schloegl from the University of Vienna and published in the journal Proceedings of the Royal Society B : Biological Sciences which found that African grey parrots were cleverer than two-year-olds in a test of intelligent reasoning.  During a series of experiments the parrots were asked to choose between two closed boxes, one of which held a piece of walnut and rattled when shaken.  The other container was empty and could be shaken without making a noise.  Not only did  these clever parrots know how to detect hidden food rattling in a shaken box they also deduced that if a box made no noise when shaken then the piece of walnut was in the other box.  Clever little boys, eh?
The article maintains that human children achieve this standard by the age of three.  I wonder if these eminent scientists ever tried to hide the TV remote before a visit from a two-year-old?  I suspect not. It never fails to amaze me how quickly a toddler can find all the things you thought you'd hidden safely away. I'm pretty sure that most of the two-year-olds I know would have found that piece of walnut pretty quickly - they would most likely have discovered the grown-ups putting it in the box.  Such are the acute sensitivities of toddlers, in my experience.
That being said, I checked into the website to see what other gems they have available and found entries on such diverse subjects as the influence brain parasites have on human cultures (ugh!), first-ever observations of a live giant squid and an even more intriguing subject Cooperation and the Evolution of Intelligence. Admittedly I didn't read any of those reports, I just couldn't get enthusiastic about brain parasites or giant squids. I have enough trouble understanding the weather forecast.
To me the most fascinating thing about the research is that it was carried out at all.  It is certainly very interesting if you are a fan of African grey parrots - or of two-year-olds - and I daresay the world of biology is richer for knowing the results. Does it mean that when boasting to other mums you excuse your toddler's inadequacies by saying "Well of course little Timmy isn't quite as clever as Polly the Parrot."?

Saturday 18 August 2012

Feel Good Factors

Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.
This quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay on Self Reliance came into my head the other morning.  I woke up feeling as if I had stubbed my toes on the wall of life, in other words, not in the sunniest of moods.  Outside the rain was coming down in buckets.  As I was hauling myself out of bed I remembered the above quote and decided that I would find five "feel good" things about the day.  Needless to say, it wasn't actually that hard.
Here they are:
  1. Being able to stand under the shower and feel that warm water cascading over my body and having a choice of shampoo and cosmetics stocking my bathroom shelves. We take this all for granted but we'd certainly miss it if we couldn't have a warm shower whenever we pleased. Those of us who've been on camping sites queuing at the wash rooms of a morning know the feeling.
  2. Watching out of my window as a crow swooped on a piece of bread.  He had barely alighted before a crowd of his fellows descended on him.  They formed a circle and were plainly hoping to make him nervous enough to drop the crust of bread. He took this all in his stride, picked away while keeping an eye on his fellows. Two wagtails came to see what was happening and hung around on the edge of the crowd in the hopes of picking up a few crumbs. They all looked so like a bunch of children with a toffee bar that I found myself chuckling.
  3. On my way to the shops I met a daddy with his little girl.  She was chattering away nineteen to the dozen the way small children do. He listened to every word as if it this was the most important conversation he could possibly have and threw in a remark here and there in answer to her questions.  When he noticed me watching them he smiled down at his daughter with so much love and pride that  I found myself smiling too.
  4. It had been raining all morning but in the afternoon a watery sun came out and I decided to risk a walk to the beach.  I was glad I did. Strolling along the promenade I saw children and dogs having a wonderful time splashing about in the sea.  I'm not sure who was having the most fun, the kids screaming in the surf or the dogs jumping around with tongues lolling. I saw joggers, senior citizens, people in wheel chairs, families pushing baby buggies.  Everyone was enjoying themselves despite a stiff on-shore breeze and the occasional black cloud hovering threateningly. It was good to be alive and part of it all.
  5. On my way home I passed a beautifully tended garden. I stopped to admire and was met with the heady scent of roses, geraniums, jasmine and other flowers I couldn't name. I'd passed this way so often and never really noticed it before. 
In future I'm going to be more aware of these moments.  They can be found anywhere at any time no matter how rushed my day is.  And they don't cost anything.

Sunday 12 August 2012

Goodbye to all that

After over two weeks of excitement the Olympics are over and a lot of us are left with a very flat feeling indeed.  No reason to sit in front of the television with nerves on edge, hoping against hope for that gold medal.  No more watching the news reports and drinking in the interviews with the medalists.  I am not an Olympics kind of person, if such a kind of person there is.  My main source of exercise is carrying the groceries to the car or chasing the vacuum cleaner around the living room.  Yes, I'm exaggerating, I do actually walk for an hour every day, but that's about it. I don't swim, play hockey, take part in marathons.  Hitherto, the sight of lightly clad athletic bodies scooting around the arena, legs and arms going like pistons, did not cause so much as a quiver of my heartbeat.  Much less long-legged pole vaulters or those seriously scary diskus throwers. But then, on that fateful Sunday night, I turned on the television to "have a quick look" at the opening ceremony and I was hooked.  Watching the lighting of the Olympic fire touched some primitive long-forgotten chord of pride in the human race as a whole. The competing nations parading with their flags and hopes held high gave me more goosebumps than a Christmas turkey.  Here they were and they had been training for so long for this moment while most of us had happily carried on with our lives, totally unaware of the hard work and dedication. I might never have heard of half of the disciplines in which these athletes would take part but I was swept up in their enthusiasm.
And now the last gold medal has been awarded, the closing ceremony is about to take place and will no doubt prove just as impressive as the opening one, and we are left to our own devices again.  It was a wonderful time, an enchanted time and I for one am grateful and humbled by having witnessed it.


Tuesday 7 August 2012

The Magic World of Loyalty Cards


I can't say no to loyalty cards.  I never realized this until the other day when I accepted a loyalty card from a restaurant which I know I will never - as in the "never" of everyday parlance - visit again.  The lure of getting a free portion of chips or half a chicken with my next menu proved just too much and before I knew it I had accepted the card and put it in my wallet with all those other loyalty cards.

I spend hours registering on loyalty card sites.  Finding a suitable ID is harder than you think, I always find.  I suppose the easiest thing would be to use the same ID and passport for every site but a friend of mine, who happens to be an IT junkie, told me this makes it easier for a hacker to get into your loyalty sites.  Well, I don't want that.  It sounds nasty, doesn't it, people getting into your loyalty cards?  Not that I think it would do a hacker any good to see how many Real Rewards I have at SuperValu, or points at Debenhams or indeed how much free chicken I am likely to get at that restaurant.  At any rate, by the time I have fought through the whole process of ID-creating, I am exhausted and cranky.  And there's a very real possibility that when I check into the site again, I won't be able to remember my password or ID correctly and I'll have to go through the "forgotten password" process.




It's worth it in the end, of course.  You can really save some money and get yourself a treat.  And I don't blame the stores for trying to ensure that customers come back.   Small shopkeepers don't have the budget, of course.  The only way they get people to come back is by providing a service which the customer wants. What I like most about small shops is the personal contact.  That's where the big stores miss out no matter how pleasant the sales assistant is. I can't chat to my loyalty card, can't complain about the weather or find out what's going on with the neighbours or tell anyone about what my kids are up to.  I just hand over my loyalty card together with my money to a smiling employee who wouldn't know me from Adam if she saw me ten minutes later.


Next time I'm asked if I have a loyalty card and if not would I like one, I know I'm going to say yes please and start the online registration process as soon as I get home.  Don't want any bargains to slip through my fingers,now do I?  In years to come will there be a therapy for loyalty card junkies?