Meldrew Moment

In the 1990s the BBC ran a very successful sitcom called "One Foot in the Grave" about the trials and tribulations of a grumpy pensioner called Victor Meldrew (who was Scottish for some reason although it was set in the middlest of middle England). Victor's catchphrase when something disastrous - like having a Citroen 2CV dumped in the skip he'd hired - happened was "I don't BELIEVE it!"



Well I had a "Meldrew Moment" today. Let me explain.

When we came to live in Portugal four years ago, the rate of exchange between the Pound Sterling and the Euro was about 1.45 Euros per Pound. This is important as a large percentage of our income continues to be in sterling and has to be periodically converted into Euros for frittering away on Flores on such extravagances as bread, electricity etc.

Come the recession in 2008, the pound slumped and for the best part of the last two years has been bobbing around the 1.05-1.10€/£ mark. Now I never try and "play the market" and I only move £ into € when we need to on the basis that you will inevitably win some and lose some. Except inevitably, I always seem to lose more than I win and if you want to know the dates on which I have moved £ over to € recently, then all you need to do is look at a graph of £/€ performance and pick the low points.

Last time was on 20 May - see what I mean?

Anyway, recently, the pound has been rising a bit towards the giddy heights of 1.20€ and yesterday even got to 1.21€. So I decided to break my normal rule and move some £ over into € even though we didn't need to, this on the basis that I just couldn't imagine the pound getting any higher given its recent performance.

And what happened today? That's right - it moved higher to €1.22!

"I don't BELIEVE it!"

 Still, Italy getting slung out the World Cup was a consolation. (Mustn't be too hubristic (Ooh! "hubristic"! Suits you, sir! Ooh!) as Portugal need to be careful not to be gubbed by too many goals by Brazil tomorrow to be sure of going through.)

Azulejos

In haste at half time between Germany and Australia, one of the biggest talking points of Dois Mil e Dez so far has been the vuluv ..., vezuluj ..., veluve ..., vevulejas ...?

I'm not joking, I just cannot my tongue round the word for these horns Africans blow at football matches which, when you're watching the games on the tellybox, sound like you've got a bluebottle buzzing in the window and everyone (except Africans and the manufacturers of vuzulu-whatsnames, presumably) is complaining about.

The only word anywhere near it I can bring to mind is azulejo which is the Portuguese word for a ceramic wall tile.

It's vevuzulu ... no, veluzeja. Definitely vulu-something ...

World Cup

This has got to be a first - to have digressed before I've even started to type a post!

I was going to have written something about the World Cup and in particular what seems to me the very low key build up to Dois Mil e Dez compared with 2006.

Is it just me, but the only sign I've seen anywhere that the WC was even taking place was a very understated ad for a promo being run by Galp (Portuguese petrol company) when I was filling up in Lajes the other day. The chap accepted my 60 Euros for filling the tank but didn't seem to be at all inclined to press a scratch card into my hand with the promise of an all expenses paid trip to South Africa.

Anyway, Day 1 of WC10 was pretty good with plucky little South Africa holding Mexico to a 1-1 draw and even pluckier little Uruguay holding the wretched Frogs to a 0-0 draw.

We don't like France do we? No we don't. I don't know where all this guff about Entente Cordiale and enmity against Germany comes from. Apart from relatively recent unpleasantnesses in 1914 and 1939, the hereditary enemy has for centuries, of course, been France. Crecy, Agincourt. Camembert. Back in 2003, when Bush and Blair were standing shoulder to shoulder against a country which could deploy weapons of mass destruction in 20 mins and was a threat to international security, it was a total revelation to me they were talking about Iraq when the country they should have been invading was France. And you simply cannot trust a country whose leader wears ad-height shoes, I'm sorry ...

Anyway, how did I get on to this? Oh yes, the World Cup. And the fact, that, as a total coincidence on day one of WC 2010, I was downloading the Scotsman crossword for Carol on a date in May 2006 when I chanced on something which really got my blood boiling.

Regular readers will be aware that I'm a fan of neither the SNP nor that tawdry rag "the Scotsman". So imagine my blood pressure raising disgust (though I shouldn't have been surprised) to find an article in May 2006 headlined:-

Why Scotland can't Handel (sic) the BBC's new World Cup anthem

If you want a laugh, this is the text of the article [my comments interlined]: 

THE BBC was accused [let me guess by whom?] of "insensitivity and tactlessness" last night after choosing to mark the World Cup this summer with a piece of music that celebrates the man responsible for perhaps the most infamous military massacre in Scottish history - the battle of Culloden. [Sure that wasn't the battle of Flodden Field in 1513? Or Bannockburn 1314? Does it depend on the nationality of the people "massacred"?] 

See the Conquering Hero Comes, by Handel, will accompany the national broadcaster's coverage of the football tournament from Germany. While the music frequently and innocently accompanied victorious football teams across the UK in the first half of the 20th century, for some Scots [if you're wondering who they are, we get to this below] it has much darker connotations.

Handel composed the score as a tribute to the Duke of Cumberland, more vividly remembered as Butcher Cumberland, who led government forces to victory over the heavily outnumbered Jacobites at Culloden.

Last night, politicians [guess who!] and historians criticised the choice of a song which celebrated the massacre. Rob Gibson, the SNP's Highland and Islands MSP [why does that not surprise me! the gesture politics maestro!], said: "How can they possibly encourage people to support the England team when we are exposed to symbols of oppression like this?

"As far as I'm concerned the BBC often causes offence with its insensitivity to Scottish history At a time when multiculturalism is being celebrated, I can't understand how they can be so insensitive. It's an anglocentric view they have of the world and of music."  [Thanks for standing up for me, Rob. I don't know what I'd do without the likes of you to protect me from the BBC].  

The MSP, who has written a number of books on Scottish history [not very good ones, obviously], including a recent one on the clearances, said the BBC should be making more programmes on history and how these events shaped the world.

Ted Cowan, Professor of Scottish history at Glasgow University, described the choice of song as tactless, but said it was typical of the outdated sentiments that often surface in football. "I think it's pretty tactless to revive something like that," he said.

Prof Cowan said Culloden had been misrepresented in history as a battle of nations. He added: "Culloden was not actually a battle between Scotland and England, there were Scots and English on both sides. [This is the important point the SNP chooses to overlook.] But the authorities in London hijacked the victory and portrayed it as beating the rebellious Scots."

About 1,000 of the 5,000 troops loyal to Charles Edward Stuart, Bonnie Prince Charlie, were slaughtered by the 9,000-strong troops of William Augustus, the Duke of Cumberland at Culloden, in just 40 minutes, on 16 April, 1746. The battle, which took place on moorland near Inverness, forever shattered the Jacobite dream of installing a Stuart on the British throne. A further 1,000 Highlanders who fled the battlefield died in the subsequent weeks. [What's wrong with that? They were in armed rebellion against the Crown.]

Angus MacNeil, the SNP's culture spokesman at Westminster and Western Isles MP, said he regretted the fact that the BBC's move could give "posthumous publicity" to Cumberland, "a man who should be forgotten in a way Bonnie Prince Charlie will never be". [So the SNP supports foreign (French!) inspired attempts to invade this country and overthrow its government, does it?]

While Culloden is still regarded as an infamous event by many in Scotland, it was celebrated extensively at the time, by both the English and some lowland, Protestant Scots happy at the defeat of the Jacobites, who were mainly Catholics and Episcopalians.

The London government encouraged those celebrations, and Handel, a German who lived most of his life in England, composed See the Conquering Hero Comes as his contribution. His classical anthem has now been adapted by Andrew Davis, and the modern rendition, performed by the BBC Concert Orchestra and BBC Singers, has been entitled Sports Prepare" 
 
And this is me - the serious point here is that this is the level of political debate the SNP and the Scotsman operates on. Frightening. Not funny.

The mystery of Flight 522

In August 2005, Helios Airways Flight 522 took off from Larnaca, Cyprus, to fly to Athens. Although radio contact was lost minutes after departure, the Boeing 737 nevertheless flew along its flight plan route for 2 hours to Athens where it began to circle at 34,000 feet. Alarmed at the prospect of a 9/11 scenario, the Greek Air Force launched a fighter jet to intercept the airliner.

The fighter pilot came alongside and saw that the captain's seat was empty and that the co-pilot appeared slumped over the controls. Soon after, the 737 began to descend and a few minutes later crashed with the loss of all 121 on board.

It didn't take the investigators long to work out that the aircraft's pressurisation system had failed and that, as it had climbed out of Larnaca, the pilots had succumbed to oxygen starvation. The autopilot had nevertheless guided the aircraft along its programmed route to Athens. But lacking a human instruction to descend to the airport, the autopilot put the plane into the holding pattern where it circled until it ran out of fuel.

As the investigation developed two further key facts emerged: (1) the plane's pressurisation system had been tested immediately prior to the fatal flight but the engineer had failed to reset the system to "Auto" meaning that it did not automatically activate on the fatal flight; (2) a low pressure warning horn sounded in the cockpit of Flight 522 as it climbed out of Larnaca but the pilots didn't recognise the warning for what it was because it was the same sound as an alert to a situation much more familiar but which can only happen on the ground: the pilots believed they were dealing with a rogue warning but their attempts to troubleshoot were barking up the wrong tree and they succumbed to hypoxia before they realised their error.

So who was to blame? The engineer for failing to reset the pressurization switch to "Auto"? Boeing for designing the 737 with a pressurisation warning which could be mistaken for something else? Or the pilots for misdiagnosing the problem?

I was fairly certain the blame lay with the pilots until I fell into a similar trap last night involving a piece of equipment almost as complex to operate as a Boeing 737-300, namely a Hoover HNF6127-37S front loading washine machine.

Carol comes through yesterday evening and reports that the washing machine wasn't going on to its spin cycle. The last time the w/m didn't do what it was supposed to, I pulled out the filter and found a coin in it, the removal of which caused the machine to start working perfectly again. This time, I opened the filter and pulled out two coins and found a third jammed in the hose. I spent about 15 minutes before I managed to dislodge it with a pair of pliers as ingeniously suggested by Carol. But although that rendered us a total of €1.25 better off, it did not place us back in possession of a working washing machine.

Around about the elapsed time that would have seen us passing out from hypoxia had we been the crew of an unpressurised 737 climbing to cruising altitude on autopilot, the kitchen voice recorder at 5 Rua da Assomada picks up First Officer Duncan saying "Do you think the coins might be a red herring?". Captain King replies "Dunno, possibly, I can't think what else to try ..." And a few minutes later the voice of the F/O is heard saying "Oh look - the spin speed dial is at zero! I must have accidentally nudged it out of place when I was cleaning it yesterday ..." Problem solved.

 As can be seen, the Hoover HNF6127's control panel (with spin speed dial outlined) makes a 737's pressurisation control panel look the very model of simplicity by comparison (all you have to do is set it to "AUTO")

So whose fault was the machine machine incident, albeit happily resolved without so much as a lost sock? Carol's for accidentally setting the spin speed to zero? Hoover's for designing something as daft as a spin speed of zero (WTF?) Or mine for barking up the wrong tree of the coins in the filter and not scanning the instrument panel to look for another more obvious solution? Not so simple to answer, is it?

Pilots, operators and manufacturers of commercial airliners and lawyers representing the aforementioned please take note.  

Texting

Personally, I find texting (sending an SMS for any non-Anglo Saxon readers) about one of the daftest and most inconvenient methods of communication ever invented. God knows why it caught on but my thumb just can't work a phone key-pad - it would be easier etching hieroglyphs in a tablet of wet clay with a stylus of goose feather. And predictive texting doesn't really work for me either although it has given rise to one of the funniest comedy sketches ever:-



STOP PRESS - last time I tried to predictively text the word "shit" (on the rare occasions I do text, it tends to come up), I was indeed offered "shiv" (an improvised knife like object as in "I despatched the blackguard with my shiv") or "pigt" (the acronym for the phosphate thingy enzyme). But tonight, I tried it and it does offer "shit" first with "shiv" and "pigt" as second and third choices - annoying if you're wanting to text someone about a blackguard despatching or microbiology breakthrough, though ...

 

How did I get on to this? Oh yes! Text messages! We've suddenly become great fans of them. Well receiving them anyway. One of the websites our holiday apartment is advertised with sends you a text if anyone makes an enquiry. So as we're rather sad old people that no-one else texts, whenever the phone chirps we know it's an enquiry. Which is nice.

Unless, of course, it's bastard PT Communicações (the Portuguese equivalent of BT) with an unsolicited text (or worse, phone call) trying to sign me up to one of their deals which actually ends up costing you more. V tempted to pay a call to PTC armed with a shiv and drop a bag of pigt down their chimney.

WTF?

The Queen received the Right Honourable David Cameron this evening and requested him to form a new administration. The Right Honourable David Cameron accepted Her Majesty’s offer and Kissed Hands upon his appointment as Prime Minister and First Lord of the Treasury.

Am I the only person to have noticed that it's alleged she asked him to form an "administration"?

Where did that creeping Americanism come from? Whether a sweeping Labour or Conservative majority or a rainbow alliance with the Raving Monster Loony Party (or even - perish the thought - a "Progressive Alliance" with the SNP), the United Kingdom doesn't have "administrations" - it has governments. The announcement must have been drafted by a trainee at Buck House and released before HM got to see it as she would never have sanctioned that. She'll be fit to be tied. You might as well talk about meetings of the Privy Council in the Oval Office.

On the subject of which, the phones have been ringing at Number 10 with congratulations from foreign leaders coming in thick and fast as disclosed by the BBC's election live coverage web-page (click below to see it properly)

You can picture that as well, can't you? A civil servant holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone whispering "Mr Salmon on Line 2 to talk about the Progressive Alliance, Prime Minister ..."

DC says "Look Barack, it's been great but I'm going to have to leave it ... yah ... Israel ... yah, yah, ... Middle East, yah ... Barack, sorry, ... yah ... Road Map ... I know, yah ... Barack, I'm going to have to go, OK? ... Ciao, Bye, Bye, Bye ... Alex!!!! New tram to Glasgow Airport - shoot ..."

Viagens Extraordinárias

The ash cloud has arrived overhead the Azores. No flights to or between the islands (or Madeira) yesterday (Monday) and none predicted until late afternoon today (Tuesday).

By the way - and those of you living in the UK and other parts of Northern Europe will already know this - there's absolutely nothing to see when an ash cloud is overhead buggering up air transport: the sky was as blue yesterday as it ever is (which is quite a lot bluer than it has been of late, the weather here having pretty dire so far this spring - there have not yet been two consecutive nice days. Today the sky has reverted to traditional rain cloud grey.)

Of course, on Flores we're used to flights being cancelled by the weather. There's an expression out here - and I've probably got this all wrong, Marisa can correct me - o avião cancelou meaning "the plane cancelled" implying it was the plane itself which took the decision to cancel the flight, the correct expression being o avião foi cancelado meaning it was cancelled. I suspect it's a joke you have to be a native Portuguese speaker to appreciate fully. And I've probably cocked it up anyway - o avião cancelou is probably the perfectly acceptable Porto equivalent of saying things like "the kettle boiled" (I can never remember - is that a homonym or an oxymoron?) Let's move on, shall we?

Anyway, the situation has become so dire that SATA-Air Açores have chartered the inter-island summer car ferry, the inappropriately named (for reasons too lengthy to mention here) MV Express Santorini, to do some extra sailings to pick up the slack and apparently it spent last night shuttling back and forth between Horta, Terceira and São Miguel on what Atlânticoline described as a viagem extraordinária. Not as much fun as being rescued off the beaches of Santander by a Royal Navy frigate crewed entirely by tabloid journalists but more fun than going on the plane, for sure.

The BBC did a thing about how you pronounce Eyjafjallajökull and they got along an Icelander to say it - it sounds like Bjork doing a cover of "Hey Jude" to the accompanyment of the Brighouse & Rastrick brass band except it lasts a bit longer than "Hey Jude". There's also some smashing pics of Eyja-whatsname at this link to the Boston Globe. In particular, this picture caught my eye:-

 

The lava flow reminded me a lot of the coast line of Flores ...

Which is no coincidence, of course, because Iceland and Flores are both volcanic islands and this explains why the surface of Flores is pockmarked with these:-

I believe the last eruption here was about 20,000 years ago. Which means the next one's due ... any day now. What's that rumbling sound? And that sulphrous smell ...? Flores is pronounced "FLOW-rish" (with a real roll to the "r" and you hardly pronounce the "i" at all.)