Political Penguin

Unless I’ve completely missed something and the West Midlands County has been abolished then can someone tell me who at the Sun newspaper (I use the term guardedly) thinks that Sandwell is in Worcestershire?

Either that or they’re working on very old maps down there.

I’m not sure if it’s something to do with fatherhood, work, or that we usually only watch German TV at home but this is the first Rugby World that I haven’t watched a single match.

That said I caught the last couple of minutes of the England-France semi-final and all I can say, is come on England, I may well even break a habit and go down the same pub I watched England win the last world cup to watch it if Mrs Penguin lets me out.

Here he is the little blighter. Been scurrying around the house for the past few weeks. We hadn’t heard anything from him for ages until Mrs Penguin sent me a text, a matter of less than an hour ago informing me there was a mouse in the bedroom.

So strategically I wedged blankets under the door to the living room and bathroom to cut off his likely escape route meaning that at worst he’d have to hop down the stairs where I’d have the opportunity to flush him out one of the doors.

I proceeded into the bedroom where I spotted him dash under the bed. Heading over to the other side of the room so as to flush him out into the direction of the landing I started moving all the assorted crap from under the bed until he legged it.

I cornered him on the landing and almost had him till he hopped off down the stair and into the kitchen. Somehow I managed to catch him between my feet while I was kneeling down which is probably better than the way I caught the last one (it ran up my trouser leg and I had to catch him on my back).

Finally I managed to get hold of him and drop him in a plastic tub with a sealed lid. Air holes punched I took him off to a bit of local wasteland to let him go free.

I know it’s not exactly hunting down a mamouth or a wild boar but some primeval hunting instinct seems to have been satisfied and I’m feeling rather pleased with myself.

This is for the miserable little Prick from Prague in the Czech Republic who yesterday had a bash at trying to crack my site. Yes I do know who you are so piss off and don’t come back.

Following news I’ve received today I’m very happy and I just thought I’d mention it. I hope to have it confirmed tomorrow.

I’m a keen gardener. I’m proud of my humble little garden and we try to live a fairly ‘green’ lifestyle in our house. Apart from all the recycling and re-using of items we also compost as much as we can.

I have one of the Dalek style composters in the corner that I managed to pick up in the days when Walsall Council actually used to give them away for free. It suits the size of our garden and the household waste we produce which is why I’m completely envious of this.

This is Mrs Penguin’s father’s compost heap and it’s not far off the size our our entire garden. It’s got pumpkins growing on it and everything. Must buy a house with a bigger garden. With a compost heap that size and the amount of heat it throws off I could run the central heating through it.

What do we British have about roundabouts? I’m not saying they’re good or bad but we seem to have a lot of them in Britain. There’s hardly any around here, I don’t know if that’s typical of Germany as a whole but they seem to very much favour the junction which you probably notice mostly when you’re on the Autobahn.

I’m trying to remember a single junction off a motorway in Britain that isn’t a roundabout and I’m sure there must be some but I’ve never come across them. Haven’t seen a single roundabout here off the autobahn but presumably there must be some here too.

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It’s now the seventh day of not being hooked up to the Internet. Half way through the holiday and it’s a strange cultural change from living both ones primarily professional life and to some extent social life through electronic communication. When we’d arrived we’d hoped to have a connection set up but it appears that it’s either tradition or the law in Germany that when you sign contracts you are given a fortnights cooling off period to change your mind meaning that any connection would be setup the day after we have returned home which isn’t much use.

It’s strange but the first couple of days were the worst, a bit like going cold turkey I craved my net connection. Now sitting outside with the laptop penning a few posts with distinctly no connection to the Internet, it all feels that little bit more relaxed. I’m not a vexed about not being online and apart from not being able to keep up with news back home that’s about it. It is after all August so I’m sure nothing of any importance will have happened in British politics in the fortnight I’m away and it’s good to get a break from it anyway.

It is interesting to come to realise how not dependent on technology we are. I know people who live their lives through the net and I do a little too but I’m of an age that remembers life before it. It’s going to be very interesting to see how my son grows up in an increasingly online society deals with it. That reminds me, was going to pen a post on equality and modern communication methods ages ago and never got round to it. Might just remember to do it in the next week I’m here or then again I might not.

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For someone who’s spent many an hour on his hands and knees scrapping between patio paving I’d often wondered if there might be a slightly more efficient method than using a hand tool than looks like a mini-pickaxe to do the job.

I like DIY stores in general but after going around a few in Germany I’ve come to the conclusion that B&Q and Homebase are a bit light on choice. I’m not sure if it’s anything to do with the German mentality for doing things right but there seems to be something for everything so while in Britain I’d probably pick something up to do the job fairly well or bash about a bit till it can solve the problem, here it seems there’s a specific little jobbie designed to fulfil the task at hand. Still haven’t found a downpipe water diverter yet, but it appears they do that particular job differently here, more on that probably later.

I did however find this which seems an interesting idea.

I’m torn between thinking it’s a novel idea or that it wouldn’t work in practice. On the outset it seems good, no more stooping down, a nice long handle but how long would it last? I’m quite brutal with tools at times. I expect a lot in terms of endurance and I have found with alarming regularity (hating to sound rather too much like my father) but they don’t seem to make them like they used to.

I in general don’t go in for nostalgic views of the past. When people bang on about how you could leave your door unlocked at night or that the kids were better off in their day I feel at pains to do a bit of a reality check. There is, contrary to popular belief no army of burglars that come out when the sun sets to try on every front door in the town just on the off-chance that someone left it unlocked. I’m sure that I could happily get away with leaving my front-door unlocked at night and be at no more risk of being robbed than anyone else, it is simply a question of luck or not as the case may be that my house or anyone else’s gets targeted.

What it does say is not that the risks are specifically higher but our fears of the risks are higher, however that’s a topic for another post one day. Quick note on it being better for children in the olden days. Well as far as I can tell, if you’re a child these days, your chances of dying in the first few years in modern Britain are next to nothing. Mark this against infant mortality rates of 20% less than a century ago (my own mother lost two siblings rather less than a century ago) combined with the safety of knowing that you’re not going to be sent off down a pit at the age of 14 or even younger in some cases then I think the kids today get quite a good deal.

However, back to the subject in hand, the quality of tools. I know people who’ve picked up various garden tools from the likes of B&Q and broken them within a few weeks of work, in particular forks. Personally myself, I happen to be the proud owner of a garden fork which was my fathers. I have no idea of it’s age but easily more than forty years seems reasonable. It’s made of forged steel, none of that shiny stainless weak stuff and it was wholly built in England. I think the wooden stay is either oak or ash but it’s as strong as steel and shows no sign of giving up anywhere in the near future despite all the demands that have been put on it.

Returning to this patio cleaner. It is essentially a wire brush that is fixed to a pole. The brush can be loosened presumably to turn it around when it’s either bent or worn down. I’d be tempted to give it a try if it would fit in my suitcase, after all it’s not expensive but sadly it won’t fit, nor can I find one where you can just buy the head of the tool, I must hunt further.

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The Penguin’s are off on migration for a bit. Might pick up a broadband connection but you never know, there’s something positive about being away from technology for a while.

Anyway, before the off, a bit of fun. I’m glad this lot aren’t my mobile phone operator.

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