Friday, 31 December 2010

So that was 2010??

That’s it then. 2010 is over. Gone. Kaput. Was it a good one for you? Personally it was ok, I suppose. I did not take up smoking again, I kept up my weekday abstinence from alcohol, and I kept losing weight until I reached a target. I got a promotion, sort of, although sometimes I wonder why I bothered. And I watched my granddaughter grow up a little bit more.

On the down side we had to have our dog put to sleep a couple of days before Christmas. She had been a part of our family for 16 years and it came as a bit of a shock.


What of 2011?

I have started reviewing books for another blog. They should start being posted in January, provided Mark likes them. So pop over to “Walker of Worlds” and have a look.

I am looking forward to more camping in 2011. I know, you can’t believe the change in me, can you? Only a short while ago I was dead against that sort of thing. Nothing short of a hotel with room service for me! What happened was that aliens came down and replaced me with a pod person, a la "Invasion of the Body Snatchers”. My real body is probably being anally probed somewhere out there in the vast universe. rest assured, I am, probably, not enjoying it!


Mrs Giant68 is probably hoping that I will get around to building her new kitchen and bathroom. I did promise her that about 6 months ago! Amazing that as the kids have left home I end up spending a shed load of cash. When no.1 daughter left I bought and built a conservatory. Then mini Giant68 left and I am going to end up spending a reasonable fortune on the kitchen and bathroom. Personally I think that we should downgrade to an apartment. Unfortunately Mrs Giant68 doesn’t want to so I’m stuck.

I am also hoping that I can get together with my mate Steve, him of Spanish holiday fame, and play cribbage a little more often than I managed in 2010. Cribbage is something that he introduced to me some years ago. I hate playing cards but for some reason crib is a game that I enjoy. Probably due to the rule we have that it cannot be played unless there are copious quantities of alcohol involved.

I am not going to make any resolutions, why bother? They would only be broken within the 1st 24 hours. And if they aren’t, then they weren’t worth making in the first place.

Happy New Year!

Giant68 Smile

Saturday, 11 December 2010

We wish you a merry Christmas…

“It’s Christmas time

There’s no need to be afraid”

First lines from a famous song. Well, I’m afraid, there is a need to be afraid. It is the second time of the year that young people feel that they can go out and beg for money with menaces. Obviously, the first attempt to get you part with your hard earned dosh is at the beginning of November. A time when we celebrate the failure of some bloke to blow up the British parliament.

This time it’s Christmas. A time when the gormless chav adolescents feel they can knock on my door, and yours, sing the first few words of “We wish you a merry Christmas…”and then hold their hand out for cash.

Well, let me inform you now that “We wish you a merry Christmas” is NOT a Christmas carol! If you want money from me I want a proper carol. It could be “Oh Come All Ye Faithfull”, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem”, you get the idea. There are quite a few to chose from. And I want a full verse and a chorus. Not just the first line. If you want to get a shiny penny from me you’ve got to work for it.

Have a nice Christmas. I wish you all you wish yourself.


Oh, and a happy New Year!

Giant68 x

Sunday, 5 December 2010

Strictly Health and Safety

Mrs Giant68 does like to settle down in front of the telly on a Saturday and Sunday evening with a glass of wine and Strictly Come Dancing. Nothing like a bit of Brucie and “dead behind the eyes” Daly. Now,I wouldn’t go out of my way to watch it, but it is on and I will peek at it over the top of my laptop or my book and it is, somewhat, entertaining. But I find something very strange about it all.

I have been trained in Health and Safety by the company I work for. I can carry out risk assessments and create safe systems of work, and I know most of the regulations. I Can’t see how they can get away with what they do on the dance floor.

Firstly, lifts. Now the manual handling regulations state that you can not lift anything heavier than 25kg. And even then you have to lift properly, legs bent, back straight etc. Well, I didn’t see any of the lifts carried out in the proscribed way. And the dancers, while slim (apart from Ann Widdecombe) are, certainly, heavier than 25kg.


Tonight the professional dancers were standing on chairs. How dare they. Do they not realise that chairs are meant for sitting on. If you want to work at height you must use equipment that is designed for that purpose. If they fell off they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on, so to speak.

The investigation would have to carried out. Photos would have to taken and, ultimately the dancer involved would have to be sacked.


And you have to admit that there are a certain amount of distractions on the floor. How can anyone concentrate on what they are doing when Ola Jordan is dancing in one of her skimpy outfits! The risks are tremendous! I am surprised that there are no accidents. The Health and Safety officer for the BBC must be a nervous wreck on a Saturday evening, and I don’t envy him.

Wednesday, 1 December 2010

Machismo vs. Metrosexual


What is it with men and women at the moment? There seems to be a propensity for the slightly effeminate look for the men, and women seem to like it.

I find it a little bit odd that the male of the species seems to be gravitating to this androgynous look (go on, get your dictionaries out!) Can you imagine any of these metrosexuals putting a shelf up, or taking the bins down?

Please don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the metrosexuals, I do like a drop of the old moisturiser at times, but I just don’t understand what women see in them. In the days of the caveman, the man would be the hunter gatherer while the woman would stay at home and look after the family, after being clubbed over the head and dragged to the cave, of course. Therefore the woman would want a strong, healthy man. His mighty muscles and rippling thews proclaiming that he was a good hunter who could feed a family by dragging a diplodocus through the primordial jungle back to the cave. Once there he could hack into steaks that would  fit over the fire that he built and lit with his feet while he was butchering the dinosaur. (And the first bbq was born, all Neanderthal man needed was a cold beer and his mates!).

Throughout history real men have fought battles, first with fists, clubs, axes, swords and working their way through various small arms. Now I know that there are still a few macho men around, but they all seem to be in Afghanistan fighting the Taliban, while the effete creatures left at home are scoring with the girls. All the while starring in the hit films of the day and making a pot of money, just look at Robert Pattinson, I wouldn’t put him up against a strong wind!

Whatever happened to the macho film stars of yesterday? OK, maybe not a good argument as most of them turned out be gay, but you know what I mean.

I reckon these women will regret it in few years time when they need a jar opening or a shelf put up. Oh, and it’s bin night!