One Follower Less

Although I have blocked quite a few followers on my blog (mainly potential spammers) I've never found a way to un-follow someone else on Blogger so I was a bit puzzled today when one of my followers disappeared.  In itself it's not important but curiosity means that I'd like to know!  It's not the first time it's happened either as I realised when I read my post from January last year.

Now That's a Hedge

There are two quotes from modern films which come into my mind fairly frequently: 

The moment in Pretty Woman as Vivian gets her own back on the rude shop assistant:

1. Shop assistant: “Hello, can I help you?”
Vivian: “I was in here yesterday, you wouldn’t wait on me.”
Shop assistant: “Oh.”
Vivian: “You people work on commission, right?”
Shop assistant: “Yeah.”
Vivian: “Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now.”

The second was from Crocodile Dundee when Mick Dundee and Sue are accosted by a knife wielding mugger and Mick says  "That's not a knife.  That's a knife." in this sketch.

Well when I was driving back from Tauranga a few weeks ago I stopped in the Te Puke area and realised I was enclosed by hedges around the Kiwi fruit orchards.  In fact hedges like this are common in the fruit growing areas of New Zealand which includes, of course, Hawkes Bay where I live.  Anyway it occurred to me that when in the UK we talk about our hedges an appropriate reply would be:  They're not hedges.  These are hedges:

How To Spend Saturday

After my irritating episode yesterday when I deleted a couple of posts, I received a message from Fiona to say that she had rescued the Myna Bird post from her Google Reader because it had not at that time refreshed and deleted it.  However the 'Legs' one had gone.  In fact it had gone from Facebook's Networked Blogs too and had, effectively, disappeared never to return. 

However my saviour for that post came from Mark, my Nepthew-in-law, who wrote the blog search program Postvorta and who knows about the dark arts behind computers that most of us can only wonder about.  Apparently my Postvorta had not re-indexed since the deletion (if I understand it correctly) and Mark was able to rescue all the text from it.

So today I am an exceedingly happy bunny and have re-constructed the two posts and the comments made on them.  

Some people today will have done great things:  finished their magnum opus, discovered a cure for an illness, re-invented the wheel or saved a life or, perhaps, just achieved a personal best on the athletics field.  I've re-constructed my blog.  I am easily pleased!

I should have been out on the croquet lawn this afternoon playing a match in the hot summer sun.  As it is it's rained solidly all day and the match has been postponed until tomorrow.

So for the second day running I've been catching up round The Cottage, in Blogland and Computerland.  The children, on the other hand are not on their play-stations or whatever - they are in the pool despite the rain - the water temperature yesterday was an almost bath-like 30℃.

I've also started using Blogbackupr.com to back up my blogs constantly instead of my supposedly monthly back-up to my own computer.  For someone who is a fanatical backer-upper and who keeps on and off-site backups I certainly failed when it came to the blog backup.

Well, That's a Bummer!

I have a habit of starting posts and then leaving them in the Drafts folder for a rainy day.  I have one such post on which I decided to do some work today - it's quite a detailed post and I wanted to get the information correct and then shorten it.  I discovered that I had 71 posts in the draft folder.  So I started looking to see what was there.  Some went back almost to the start of the blog.  I had a look at a few and they had all already been published.  Then I got to one that hadn't.  I read it and went back to the drafts, or so I thought.  In fact it defaulted to the 'All'.  I saw what I thought were duplicated posts still in draft and deleted them.  Bye bye.  They are gone for ever.  And they were not drafts.  So 'The Myna Bird' and 'I'm A Leg's Man' are no more.  I can easily re-do the Myna Bird but the Legs post is more difficult because I can't really recall all that I said and I really really don't like re-doing things I've already worked on.  

The family are coming for dinner.  I shall go an sort things out - the Beef Stroganoff is in the slow cooker.  I think I shall just pour myself a wine....or two.

Thankful Thursday

I try and do a Thankful Thursday post every week for two reasons: to remind myself of the fortitude of Jaz (who started Thankful Thursday) and Mark Treacy as they live with the affects of Jaz's brain tumour and to remind myself of just how fortunate I am compared with the vast majority of the world's population.  I think that we often forget that if we are reading this blog we are are likely to be within the to0 5% in terms of world wealth.  If we own a computer and are on the internet we have food, drink and a roof over our head (or should it be heads?).

As I have said before (though some of you mightn't have heard it) I often feel like Liz Taylor's seventh husband on their wedding night.  I know what I have to do but I have no idea how to make it interesting.

This afternoon, after almost a week of very indifferent weather (this is Hawkes Bay and nearly the sunshine capital of New Zealand), the sun shone.  With the sunshine came the call of the Tui from the huge Poplar Trees in the paddock, the Bellbird from some unidentifiable source and a myriad of birds whose calls always fill the bowl in which I live.  And with the coming of the sunshine my heart gave a huge leap and I was happy.  

For that I am thankful.

I hope that, today, you too have something as simple which makes you thankful.

Myna Bird

In Hawkes Bay and north of here in The North Island lives a non-native passerine from Asia called a Myna Bird.  It's not to be confused with the Common Hill Myna (often spelt Mynah in the UK) although they are, I think, both members of the Starling family.  The Myna to which I am referring is very common in the neighbourhood and for some inexplicable reason spends a lot of time feeding on the roadsides in it's habitat areas.  It struts around the croquet lawns and the paddock in front of The Cottage.  From the photo you get no idea of its size which is about 24cm or just under 10inches long.

On Being a Legs Man

This started out as a very simple post about legs and Dorothy Ward.  Unfortunately one sentence led to another and the next thing I had a paragraph, then another and now it's quite out of control.

I have always understood than men are either 'legs men' or 'boobs men'. I apologise if anyone finds this indelicate or un-pc but c'est la vie no-one objected when I made the statement on a post a few weeks ago.  

Arising out of that post and of one by someone on Facebook (I can't recall what or by whom) I made the comment again that I was of the 'legs' persuasion and in the course of conversation it was suggested that, apart from this being very shallow, it put me into a small minority. I couldn't agree more that, if that was the sole way of judging a person, it would be very shallow and, in fact, this very subject cropped up recently in SP's post Kissing Frogs . Arising out of that I commented that I had been thinking about the issue of brains v looks. What one person fancies in looks is not necessarily what another fancies. It suddenly occurred to me that when we find someone whom we fancy for their personality and wit and whatever then we suddenly see them as attractive physically regardless of what they look like to other people. If someone is looking for looks alone then I would suggest that they are looking for someone who will make them feel good in a trophy-hunting sort of way. "Look, world, what I have bagged".  Now that really would be shallow. 

However returning to the original topic of legs I think I know exactly where and when I became a legs man and it is all owed to Dorothy Ward . Who was Dorothy Ward?   For the answer to that please follow the link and you may be astonished at the fame a pantomime and music hall star could have in the first half of the twentieth century.  For me, though, it was her performance as the principal boy in Dick Whittington at the Pavillion Theatre in Liverpool when I was a youngster.   I thought it was earlier but it would appear to have been in 1957 when she was 67 years old - the same age as I am now.  She must have been remarkably fit for her age because I recall her not only looking very attractive but also spending a lot of time dancing.  There is a photo of her dated 1954 in the website which I would love to show but as it will be copyright I will just ask you to have a look at the link.  

I know that beauty is not just skin deep but nice legs do, I have to say,  have a certain attraction.