It's NOT big, and it's NOT clever,

When I was about 15 or 16 I smoked.
Only a bit, maybe one or two a week if I was lucky (should that be unlucky?) I was strictly ‘other peoples’ in what brand I smoked.
Once I was 18 and living outside of home I occasionally bought my own cigarettes. I still rarely smoked more than one or two a week, mostly I smoked when friends did on a Friday or a Saturday night. Peer pressure, yep, it was both big and clever. But it was also ‘cool’.

I usually smoked exotic and enticing brands like Black Russians, More Menthol or Multicoloured cocktail cigarettes with gold coloured filters ...it was all about the glamour. Packaging and presentation had a direct effect on whether I would buy a brand, I was beyond excited to discover a brand called DEATH that was sold in Brighton that came in a suave black coffin shaped box, too naïve, and too stupid to care about the irony it was quickly my favourite.
I never became addicted to cigarettes, I never smoked more than a couple a week and after the age of 24 rarely smoked at all. I haven’t smoked now in over 20 years.

 I wish smoking wasn’t cool. A smoking ban in public venues has done a lot to stop smokers, it is not so chic to huddle out in the rain to catch a quick puff. Lack of advertising has also helped to stop children and young adults starting the habit and of course you now need to be 18 to even begin. But I think another great preventative would be plain boring non-trendy packaging (think the classic TESCO VALUE campaign!) which is why I’d be happy to see all cigarettes sold in plain white cartons.
 I know all the arguments about cigarette taxes helping the country. I’ve heard things in favour of an outright ban (I’m not in favour mainly as it would only serve to make it cooler!) I think the best way to ensure that less people risk their health is to make smoking a real decision, based on proper information and not ‘oooh look – how cool is that packet!’ or ‘how handsome is that cowboy smoking!’

Protect our children. Visit the Plain Packaging Campaign for more information and to pledge your support.

Do you smoke? Do you wish you could give up or are you happy to smoke? How long have you smoked? Do you think branding played a part in your decision? I’d love to know!

LOCOG - Crushing the Dream, one day at a time

I was really excited about the Sports even that shall not be named. Not at first I admit, but gradually I came round to realising that it was going to be a historic event, something good in a  time of recession. I stopped worrying about how much it would cost and concentrated on what it would achieve. 

Sport would be highlighted in schools. Kids and young athletes would be encouraged. The Paralympics would show disabled people in a positive light, moving them away from the 'benefit scrounger' image they seem to have gained.

The Ticket 'lottery' was horrible. It felt weird, and unfair, to order more tickets than you needed? or to just order what you required and risk disappointment? To order in some kind of 'double guessing' way by selecting sports that you imagine to be 'unpopular' ... but what if everyone did that? To order in the highest price band or the lowest? It was a nightmare and in the end I ordered the cheapest options in what I wanted to see and only what I could afford.

I was one of the lucky few it seems as I got nearly all the tickets I applied for! So the excitement grew again. The thought of seeing top athletes in a massive new arena  or pool, cheering on my country with DD at my side.

Kindly donated by @Kungpofanda at Twitter

The  transport looked like it might be tricky. We live close to London (an hour on the train) but even so the journeys seems long and complicated, we were advised to leave 'extra time' so I did. I booked the tickets on the train even though they cost more than the tickets. I felt smug and organised.

And then the emails started...and the texts telling me to read and observe the rules in the emails ... "or else you may not see your event". That sounded ominous and threatening. 

Suggestions to arrive TWO HOURS earlier than the event, after I had purchased tickets (planning to arrive 30 minutes early) Suddenly an early morning train journey became a dawn/milk train journey - 5.14am for an event that starts at 9am. And then the searches, the rules on 'excessive' food (what is excessive? who decides how many maltesers is acceptable?) the ban on liquids, on large flags, umbrellas, kittens. Where was the fun? Where was the excitement?

And now missiles on roofs of ordinary peoples flats ('you are at no danger' they are told - 'so why the missiles and armed guards then?' I would reply) A lack of security from the company PAID and CONTRACTED to provide them. Soldiers brought in from our troops aroud the world to patrol a sporting event! Allegations of free tickets to top events for the great and 'good'...., And finally the crown, we can no longer even mention the games (and possibly the year, the word summer or the metalic colour of the medals) without getting sued..

I admit, I'm losing the love. I want to get the love back. I want the Sports Event that cannot be named to feel like a Sporting Event of a Lifetime, not a War.


Toy Soldier Picture Credit : National Museum of Play Online Collections

edited to add  the no kittens pic

Dear McDonalds

I love you. I want to make this clear from the start, our from the "get go" as you Americans say. We have a dangerous relationship where you are a "feeder" but I'll be honest, I encourage it.

I like your breakfasts best.

Who am I kidding, I love your breakfasts. I love the muffins full of greasy goodness. I love that you serve pancakes with bacon and syrup, because, while it's not very British of me to admit, I adore bacon and syrup.
I love the choices of drink, the orange juice that lets me kid myself I've had a healthy breakfast. The milk that let's me pretend I care about my bone health.

But the coffee...ah the coffee... Now the coffee has improved, I admit that. I like the taste. But you have temperature issues don't you? The hotter the coffee the better? Is that your thought? You are wrong.

Remember the old adage "boiled coffee is spoiled coffee"? You would imagine that having a court case where a woman was scalded would have given you a wake up. But no. this morning I had to wait twenty minutes before I could drink my coffee without losing all the skin on my tongue. Twenty minutes! Imagine how hot it was! Sort it out. You are spoiling an otherwise perfect breakfast.



Lots of love
Me

I am secret Agent G

How neurotic are you about safety and security?

      I have written before about my neurotic parenting with DD and how I try very hard not to be Nemo’s Dad. But today I was thinking about online security.
     You all know I live online. I have a real feeling that it’s my ‘home’ I love to tweet and to blog. I like email, instant messages, apps to check things via phone, websites, the lot. But I am also very wary, and I like to think, security conscious.
      I do not bank online (except Paypal) so I am not easily swayed by Bank Phishing emails. And I’m amused rather than taken in by the ‘You’ve won the lottery’ emails (except once I had – it was only £10 though) and most of the “Dear friend I need your help with £1000000 I have in a bank in Nigeria” go straight to my Spam folder so I’m rarely troubled by them. (Oh and I don't post pictures of my credit card online either! Seriously people!!)
      But I hope I’m not complacent, I’m wary of all emails, I’ve sent money to people online (as either gifts or payment)  and only once have I been let down (a small item I paid for was never sent).
      I use Ebay, Etsy and Amazon and like most of you (I suspect) I’m pretty neurotic about passwords and password strength. I use a different password for each site, I follow advice from Sophos and test password examples at PassFault (go and give it a go! Though I’d use a ‘similar to your password’, not your actual password – just in case!) I use Gmail’s ‘Two Step Authentication’ and I have a phone lock on my mobile.
      I also try and remain fairly anonymous online. Partly because a quick google search for my name reveals……just me. I’m fairly unique it seems, ditto DD. So I rarely use my name online, nor an exact location. I realise a keen stalker could probably find most of it but why make it easy.

      I don’t play ‘What’s Your Porn Star Name?’ and the like since I realises that most of the questions were aimed at finding your ‘often used questions for when you lose your password on a website’ eg First pet, name of your road, a school.
      I don’t post my birthday online – why tell everyone I’m 45 TODAY when that reveals my date of birth – same for DD – after all she will be online long after I am and why leave a data trail for her to worry about.

 So, am I neurotic or sensible? And do you protect yourself on line or assume that the risk is small and not care. Any other tips you think I should know?

This internet thing is good isn't it?

I love the internet. I love the information at our fingertips, the music, the news, the comedy, the pictures...

When I first started using it Yahoo groups were all the rage, forums were popular and Myspace was a cool new idea for musicians. I embraced it all.I still am a member and moderator for several Yahoo Groups (CMT, Border Terriers, to name a couple) I still have a Myspace (yes really) and although I left most forums, there are a couple I pop into now and again.

 I started this blog back in July 2005 (the 5th!) and while there were long gaps with no posting I have enjoyed having it as a space for my thoughts and rants.

 I am a reluctant Facebook-er, a past member of Friends Reunited, but as regular readers know it's Twitter that I really love.

 And I love the interaction the most.It's like the forums but faster paced and never empty. I have talked to celebrities, authors, TV stars, companies, musicians, parents, dogs, plush rabbits, vampires, teenagers...in fact you name it/them and we have probably chatted. A few weeks back I was mentioned by (and later tweeted with) Brian Blessed, can life get better than that?

Apparently yes it can, because as part of a Vosene Event online to raise money for the NSPCC I now have the pleasure of hearing and seeing! Duncan James from Blue sing a tweet for my friends Mamacrow and Eddsnotdead.

May I proudly present...

Thank you Vosene! (and Duncan James)

Crash of a De Havilland Mosquito. A memory.

My daughter was born at my sister’s house in November 1944. I returned home with her when she was three weeks old. I had photos taken at a studio soon after we arrived home. These were to be the only photos of my daughter before the accident. I hadn’t collected them from the photographers at the time of the plane crash so they survived.

The plane crash was on the morning of Saturday 17th February 1945.
I had put my daughter outside the front door in her pram; I then went into the bedroom to tidy myself and to put my coat on. I was looking in the mirror when I saw this huge plane coming into the garden, it was silent, no engine. I thought that my baby would be all right as the plane was coming toward the back of the bungalow, so remembering what we had been told to do during raids etc. I lay on the floor. The last thing that I remembered was debris falling on me, which must have knocked me out for a few seconds. I came to and my wardrobe was holding up the ceiling where I was lying. I scrambled up thinking that I must get to my baby, I walked through the bedroom to the lounge, there wasn’t a wall there any more and no glass in the windows. I fell out of the window and my friend was there and she helped me out.


I rushed round to where the pram was shouting “MY BABY!” by that time the bungalow was alight and burning rubble had fallen onto the pram. I was pulled away, still screaming for my baby but I was held back. A man who was visiting his brother’s family across the road ran over and with his bare hands got my daughter out of the pram. When I saw how badly she was burnt I wished that God had taken her, as her little face was burned also her arm and hand. The man who lived opposite was about to take a bride to her wedding, but no more ado he came and took us to the hospital, ribbons flying.

I don’t think that I have ever spent a more unhappy night, my baby was crying and I couldn’t pick her up as my hands were bandaged, so I continually called the nurse. Eventually the Matron came and said, “ What are you making all the fuss for?”

The next day a Doctor came from East Grinstead hospital and we were taken there and we stayed for three months. Fortunately my baby was still able to breast feed. Which helped to save her life. She had saline bathes everyday and was the youngest patient they had ever had.

My husband was serving in India at the time of the crash and didn’t even know that he had a daughter until she was about four months old. He didn’t know about the accident because his mother had written to him and just said that I couldn’t write as I had hurt my hands. (I used to write several times a week).
The first thing that he knew about it was when one of the fellows that was with him had the Local newspaper sent to him and this news was on the front page. You can imagine the shock; He put in for leave but wasn’t allowed to come home. Our daughter  was nearly two before he came home and saw her, he walked through the door and she was in her high chair, my husband kissed me and she said, “Oh Mama!”.
We spent years going to and fro to East Grinstead for her to have skin grafts; she had the last one when she was sixteen.

There were five people killed that day including both pilots, we were the only two saved.

 The Memorial to those that died

(My Grandmother wrote this account in about 1995, the baby of course, is my mum)