perfect diet

Do you feel over-informed? Or are you suffering from information over-load?
YES, you are.

I read...almost compulsively...the information on nutrition given on anything eaten or drunk.

Now just writing the word "drunk" reminds me of the nutritional information on a bottle of whiskey. Incidentally, such information seems to be absent from the cheaper brands. The information reads as follows: Protein 0%....Carbohydarte....trace.....Fat 0%.

Question
Why is whiskey not promoted as the perfect diet for weight loss plus the added "feel good factor"?

Walter Vego

Waste Disposal

I live in the Bloomsbury area in the London Borough of Camden. I belong to a residents association and one of our persistent complaints relate to "Waste Disposal".

It would be tedious to recount the various combinations of services. A quick survey shows that there are green bags for paper, plastics (must be bottle shaped), glass. Then there are black plastic boxes for paper and cardboard. These green bags and black boxes are cleared (emptied) once a week.

Some streets have general waste collection daily and other streets have collections once and sometimes twice a week. Then there are waste bins on the street and street cleaners who collect and dispose of street debris in green bags emptied into handcarts.

With all of these provisions we have cause for frequent complaints.

NOW, in the interest of "Greenness" and environmental concerns, we are being asked to separate waste into kitchen waste, paper, glass and plastic. Camden is putting a great deal of effort into grooming us to adopt this waste separation behaviour.

I wish to point out that the population of these islands did separate their waste during the years 1939-45 ... but then we were fighting for our lives. Maybe we need a similar threat and I propose "environmental disaster". By the way the Romans had similar problems. However ancient waste disposal makes archaeologists rejoice.

Walter Vego.

A ploughman's lunch

We carry our memories with us like a tortoise in a shell. In my case I remember trivia, more trivia and events that make me remember that I can preface a grumpy note with the introduction "I remember the good old days". So, here goes!

When I was a student, (a long time ago), my courses in ecology took me into the countryside where I found pubs that would serve reasonable and cheap quantities of excellent food. No gastro pubs or cloth napkins either. I found that a ploughman's lunch was a fantastic bargain, satisfying both pocket and appetite. It consisted of a large amount of well matured cheddar, thick slices of farm baked bread, pickled onions, thick Branston pickle, apple chutney, butter and if I could afford it ... a pint of bitter...

A few days ago I asked for a Ploughman's in a country pub ... name withheld ... the bread was "a baguette" forming a choking bolus to be swallowed, the cheese, unfit for mice ... grated, the pickle spread on the cheese in the bread and unavoidable. I ate some of it, suffered in silence and made no complaint. How could I? Since no one now remembers what a ploughman's lunch was really like.

Walter Vego

A restful few days?

I am calling my post that with my fingers crossed. I am about to go and stay with my eldest son and his wife in their lovely house in the country. The reason why I even think it might not be a restful stay is because of what happened last time. I will tell you!

I had arrived about tea-time having been picked up at the station. I sorted myself out and went into the drawing room and sat down for a nice refreshing cup of tea, sandwiches and cakes etc. Suddenly all hell broke loose! The dogs went mad with barking and rushing around and the noise outside was terrific. We all rushed out and lo and behold there were three police cars in the drive.

They hadn't come to arrest us but to dig up various places in a couple of my son's fields! Apparently a man in the next village had reported his wife missing. The police were very suspicious after going into the case thoroughly and seemed certain he had murdered her as he was well known to them. They were also certain that he had buried her somewhere outside the village.

They started to dig in the fields in places that looked as if the ground had been disturbed but found nothing. The next day they came back and started all over again, but still no luck.

My son tells me on the phone that they are still coming back from time to time, but I hardly think they will be luckly. Perhaps when I go down I may bring them luck next time! Should I say that? Poor woman, what a terrible man.

Polly

Mystified

I am standing on the platform of a railway station in south London. I can read the sign "Mind the gap". Next to this sign is a similar sign but it is upside down. I thought as to why this should be and realised that the sign facing me is to be read as I board the train. The other is to be read by those passengers (customers) leaving the train. I boarded the train and thought for some time about the word "MIND".

Mind the gap ... is about being aware of the gap. It is "mind" as a warning, similar to "Beware of the dog". "Mind the dog" suggests looking after or caring for the dog. Or "mind" could mean not "beware" but "Be aware of the dog". There is "mind" in the context of "Body and Mind". Does the dog have a mind? Do you mind if .. "I sit, stand, push, yell, scream, put my rubbish in your dustbin" or "Do you mind if I go ahead in the queue".

All this is social exchange and the answer is "I do mind", (grumpy), or "I do mind" (charming) especially if you have a walking stick. So, "Mind the gap" can have your mind racing in many directions. And "Mind how you go" could mean "Be careful" or just a friendly "Goodbye".
Walter Vego

Change or disrupt

I am of an age when I notice CHANGE. It is perhaps that I walk more slowly, wait for the green light to cross the road or even notice the increasing cost of using the gentlemen's toilet. Be that as it may, have you noticed that the 19 and 38 bus routes have changed? I only found out on my third journey, because I thought that the buses had been temporarily re-routed. This experience allows me to ruminate on the nature of "Information". We are knee-deep in information, and in order to remain sane one develops an information selective filter. I am working on this device. However, consulting friends with a similar problem I am told that I need a pre-filter. I am at the design stage of such a device and will report any progress in due course.
Walter Vego.

Flattery

Overheard at election lunch......Flattery is like perfume, enjoy, inhale, wallow in it .....swallowing it is a bad idea...I think the reference was to a politician.

One commentator reciting the woes of Britain said it was all due to an "over genitalisation" of modern life. I wonder what he meant......Walter Vego