Luck, liars and lotteries

I won an i-Phone 6 tonight, which seems wrong because I never win anything. In the end I decided to pass on it because I don’t want one, and I don’t want to either give out personal details or pay the £1 for delivery.

Over the years I have become very suspicious of anything that seems to good to be true, because that’s precisely how it tends to turn out. This has become even more true when associated with the internet. I’m still waiting for the week in Spain the double glazing firm offered me 28 years ago so what chance do I have of getting anything from a man with a computer several thousand miles away.

It breaks my heart every time I have to turn down pleas for help from African politicians or their widows. I truly would like to help them, and I would love the millions of dollars they promise me, but deep down there is a suspicion that they may not be telling the truth.

Even the National Lottery has failed to make good on its promise to make me a millionaire, and you’d think you could trust a government backed scheme wouldn’t you?

Now that I’ve written that down I can see the problem.

Anyway – here’s a question for you – do you feel that use of the internet has made you a more suspicious person?

If not, please could you help me with some academic research I’m doing about trust and internet banking? I just need your bank details and password…


Reflections on Age and Archaeology

Today, as detailed on the other blog I had a sort of day off, ending with the annual inspection of my legs by the district nurse. I have two, they have five toes each, they are pink and they have blood in the that goes right to the ends of the toes. They spoke in Latin while they checked the circulation and I was half expecting words like pastern and fetlock to come into play.

I thought about asking if they thought I’d make good breeding stock but remembered in time that what sounds amusing in my head could be seen as inappropriate. In fact, as I was old enough to be father to one of the nurses and grandfather to the other it could be seen as downright creepy.

I half thought about taking a picture of my feet as I’m short of pictures but common sense took over. After over half a century of abuse, including long-distance walking, platform soles and wellingtons they are feet in the same way that the Coliseum is a venue for entertainment – they are monuments to past glory and a crumbling relic of what used to be. However, nobody is going to gasp in awe at my feet, or pay for a guided tour, so I think it best to keep them to myself.

It’s a bit like the old saying “My body is a temple”. Mine is Angkor Wat – a rambling structure that has seen better days.

Looking for the last link gave me food for thought as it mentioned archaeologists from the University of Sydney. I don’t want to be rude, and I’ve had this thought before regarding the USA too, but what do archaeologists do in countries which have a less stuff to excavate? They are both big countries so I expect remains are spread out quite thin, plus they didn’t have the benefit of being colonised by the Romans, so they have a lot less pottery and stonework to go for.

On the other hand, when you start thinking about maritime archaeology   you have to admit that Australia and California offer a more attractive prospect than the North Sea.

A final though on archaeology from Agatha Christie:”I married an archaeologist because the older I grow, the more he appreciates me.”






Europe and me

I may as well start with a big subject, so here it is – my contribution to the European debate.

I’m going to vote to stay in because I’m lazy, I’m concerned about what might happen if we leave and because my kids want to stay in. It doesn’t really matter to me – in around 30 years it won’t be of any concern to me but the kids will be left with the results of my vote.

That, incidentally, is why I keep trying to treat the planet with more respect – it’s no real concern to me, but if cutting down on plastics, recycling and composting will help my kids and grandchildren (if any) it seems churlish not to do it.

Live as if you’ll die tomorrow but farm as if you’ll live for ever, as they say, not that farmers are particularly good at it.

So, having made up my mind without the need to listen to the torrent of trivia currently spewing forth on TV, I feel no remorse at continuing to dodge the news and watch programmes about cookery, tattoos and crime.

I’ll keep it decently short instead of ranting, because we aren’t going to run short of words on the subject.

Sovereignty is a major point in the argument, but as I never had much sovereignty before the EU I’m not going to worry too much about whether the legislation I can’t influence comes from Europe or from Westminster. Basically my lack of sovereignty boils down to three things – I’m not allowed to execute people, I can’t refuse to admit refugees and I have to have a smaller motor on my hoover.

As I don’t want to execute people, we never refused refugees even before the EU and I agree with smaller motors on hoovers (though I’m not honestly that concerned) membership of the EU doesn’t really restrict me too badly.

The only other matter worthy of mention is the Boris Johnson debate. I always thought he was OK, but that covers a wide range of people from the Dalai Lama to Attila the Hun – most people have some good in them and as long as they leave me alone I’m happy to let them get on with their lives.

Now, I’m not going to pass an opinion one way or the other on BoJo’s European stance but I will say one thing.

If he was up for election on the rugby club committee (which seems to be as good a place as anywhere for him) he’d be great as a Social Secretary. Maybe even an inspirational, though disorganised Chair. But I wouldn’t vote for him as Treasurer. And if rugby clubs are ever allowed to have nuclear weapons I wouldn’t want him to have the button.

Hopefully that is all I will have to add to the European debate.




New start

To those of you who followed this blog before – sorry I’ve been away for so long. It wasn’t intentional but one day lead to another and next thing I knew I was blogging entirely on and ignoring Sherwood Days. For those of you who have popped across from the other blog, welcome.

Fair warning, I tend to ramble, and I don’t have  a grand plan for reopening the blog. All I know so far is that I want to focus the other one a bit more by bringing some of the less focussed subject matter here.

I’m not really selling it am I?

For the moment I’ll leave things here, and start with a proper post tomorrow.