Now Pay attention... 007

A few weeks ago I heard on the radio news, it was BBC Radio 4 news so it must be true, that Russia and Ukraine were having a bit of an argument over, of all things… cheese.

Now, the Russian ‘Bear’ has every right to disrespect another countries dairy based food products, but I don’t think it’s worth getting hot and bothered about. Also, I think it would be a rubbish plot for a James Bond movie.

I mean, can you imagine ‘M’ sending 007 on his mission to infiltrate the cheese production facilities of the Eastern Bloc in order to save English Cheddar? Nah… it would never work. Then I started thinking, ‘What if key words in Bond movies were replaced by a cheese related word?’

So, in order to unburden my mind of the idea, I have put them in the following list as per the movies in order to let you see the kind of random thoughts that occur in my random mind.

• Doctor Cheese
• From Russia With Cheese
• Cheesefinger (which sounds rather icky)
• Cheeseball (or perhaps) Thundercheese
• You Only Cheese Twice (or perhaps) You Only Live Cheese
• On Her Majesty’s Cheesy Service
• Cheeses Are Forever
• Live and Let Cheese
• The Man With the Golden Cheese
• The Cheese Who Loved Me (which sounds wrong on several levels)
• Cheeseraker
• For Your Cheese Only
• Octocheesy (there is another option on that, but it just sounded rude)
• Never Say Cheese Again (okay, it’s not in the official Bond canon, but…)
• A View to a Cheese
• The Living Cheeselights
• Licence to Cheese
• Golden Cheese
• Cheese Never Dies (or perhaps) Tomorrow Never Cheese
• The Cheese is Not Enough
• Cheese Another Day (or perhaps) Die Another Cheese
• Cheese Royale
• A Quantum of Cheese

And last but not least, as it is still in production

• Cheese Fall

My New Year Resolution

Is it too late to say, Happy New Year?

Naw... so, Happy New Year.

About 10 years ago I made a New Year Resolution, and that was... never to make a new year resolution ever again. And, I have to say, in those 10 years I never have. See, I do have willpower.

However, I would like to say to everyone who has set out to make a life changing decision, good luck to you and I wish you all the best. In the meantime, I am going to stick to mine

"...what other ways can you sell me on joining Twitter?"

War!

What is it good for?

Absolutely nothin', say it again...

But what about Twitter? Ah, now that is a different story.

I was, I admit very reluctant to join Twitter. I had no idea what I was going to do with it, or indeed use it for. It was pointed out to me that I could find things out. 

Well, surely I could do that with Google?

Okay, maybe I could, but would I get it directly from the horses mouth so to speak? Well, no.

So I asked my friend, who goes by the name of Kemocs on Twitter, what other ways can you sell me on joining Twitter?

"Well, you like science don't you?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to see tweets directly from astronauts on-board the international space station? Or what Professor Brian Cox is up to?"

"You like stuff like Spaced and Star Trek and things with Stephen Fry, right?"

"I am intrigued. Sell me more."

So he did.

Not only did I see information and stories from people in science, the public eye and everywhere else, I also got in touch with and communicated with people I would probably never meet in 'real-life'.

I will name names.  Helen from France, Dr Watsonette, Judy, Jamie Mahoney, Claire Hammond, Nancy Scott, Elaine Wedgewood, Hope (you know who you are), Mrs Robinson (Here's to you Mrs Robinson...), the wonderful Wendy who has taught me more about autism than could possibly ever imagine, Tracey B (cupcake), SadieX with her extremely interesting  and incredibly complicated life, Sharon J, Seaside Sophist and many many more.

I have 'spoken' to friends I know and friends I hope I have made on Twitter. I have responded to and chatted with people like Robin Ince (if you don't know who he is, shame on you. Have you never listened to The Infinite Monkey Cage on BBC Radio 4? He has done lots of other stuff, but as the ranting science novice. he is tremendous).

Others I have been luckily enough to converse with are Barnaby Edwards, the utterly brilliant Clive Merrison (the greatest radio Sherlock Holmes ever), Reece Shearsmith (The League of Gentlemen) as well as Geek Gods Jason Bradbury and Jon Bentley from the Gadget Show, as well as many others.

I try not to bore people too much with my tweets. I try to be supportive and funny and kind. I try to reply as honestly as I can with my tweets and I hope that comes across.

I did not join a social network to be abusive and anti-social. That's not the point. I cannot understand why people do that, do not be anti-social on a social network, it's not nice.

Something else that has happened to me since joining Twitter, and I am so glad it did, was finding and old and very dear friend. I cannot believe I have found her again, and I am so pleased that I have. Hello again Jinty. May we never go that length of time again without talking.

Okay, enough of my ranting. As I say, I try not to bore, but I just wanted to say, I'm glad I made the 'step' and joined. To all my fellow Tweeters, thanks.

There's somethin' happenin' here...

There's something happening here,

What it is ain't exactly clear,

There's a man with a bun over there,

Telling me I got to beware,

I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound...

Woah! "There's a man with a bun over there?" A BUN?

Yes I mean a bun. A cake, a pastry, the small, usually sweet, breaded hand-sized or smaller, domed in shape, with a flat bottom tempting edible object found in bakers.


Why do I mention this? Well because over the last year or so these little but delicious items have been creeping into my system like sugar and dough based ninjas and making my waist size increase.

It has taken me a bit of time to notice, but they have done it. How do I know? Well the trousers/jeans that I wear are a bit tighter than usual and the holes in my belt are steadily getting wider apart. 


If I don't get to grips with these delightful little fat inducers, they may take over my body.


If I am successful, I will let you know. If I am not, I will float above you like a Graf Zepplin.


Have bun... erm, I mean fun.

Boom... bang... a bang

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away...

Well, all my troubles were in the same place but smothered in a cloud of shotgun smoke. Yes, it was Cluny Clays time again.

The weather was excellent. The drive to Fife was excellent. The food and service at Cluny Clays were excellent. And as for the shooting... well, as I said, The weather was excellent. The drive to Fife was excellent... As you have probably gathered by that last statement we didn't have the greatest day destroying small saucer shaped objects fired at high and low velocity, low and high into the air and across the ground.

As always we start off with 50 rounds and one shotgun. 

Sometimes it's just three of us, sometimes more. In this case there were four of us, my friend Phill, Raymond and his son William.

The sun was shinning and the wind was pretty decent, meaning that it wouldn't blow the clays or shot about causing us to look like we had no idea what we were doing. We actually manage that one quite well on our own.

At Cluny Clays there are 8 shooting ranges and Olympic skeet and an English skeet range. We started of at the first of the ranges, which is , logically, range one. We have previously started of at one of the skeet ranges and regretted it. If you start of badly, it can only go one way. Okay, it could go two ways, the other way being 'better'.

So, we started shooting. Boom... bang... a bang. It went well. We hit stuff... the rest of the ranges went well... we hit stuff again... we hit even more stuff... and them we missed stuff... a few clays were missed... and then hit again. And missed again.

To cut a very long story short the results were as follows:

Phill: 27 hits

Raymond: 31 hits

me: 34

William: 38

So not a great day, but not too bad either. The day improved somewhat with the purchasing of food and drink from the excellent restaurant. The food is always good and the service is second to none. 

If you ever get the chance to go to Cluny Clays I would really recommend it.

So before I bore you with more details, I will bid you adieu and wish all a happy day.

The plan for the weekend

All going well, if the weather hold out and we don't get wiped out in an asteroid strike or alien invasion, my mates Phill, Raymond and myself should be going to Cluny Clays in Fife for some clay pigeon culling.

We go to Cluny Clays every once in a while and have a good time. 

Nah, we have a great time. 

Cluny is about 20 miles from the glorious city of Edinburgh, and approximately 13 miles north east of the engineering marvel (and Golden gate look-a-like) Forth Road Bridge. 

If you have never been to Cluny before I would really recommend it. Not only will you have a good time on the activity of your choice whether it be golf, clay pigeon shooting, or archer, but you can get a flipping good meal as well. 

Cluny isn't just for gun tootin' wanna be James Bond types (neither my mates nor myself resemble in any way Pierce Brosnan nor Daniel Craig), it is for everybody. I will now quote from the official website 

"The minimum age to join the fun at Cluny Shooting is 10 years. For children under 10 there is lots to do in the Cluny Kids 'Play Naturally park'."

So you see, fun for all the family.  If you want to check it out and see if there is anything for you have a look at http://www.clunyclays.co.uk/index.php

I will take some photographs and, if the scores are good, let you know how we get on. If we merely pepper the air with shot, I will not mention it. Hey, we have our pride to think about.

Have fun.

The Game's afoot!

My first real memory of Sherlock Holmes comes from the dark and distant past of 1978.

As a young school boy I would wait with anticipation on a Sunday afternoon to hear one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories dramatised in 30 minutes plays on BBC Radio 4.

The one that sticks in my mind the most was Silver Blaze. I often wonder why it sticks in my head so clearly. I can still hear Barry Foster (he played Holmes in 13 episodes of the Holmes canon, with David Buck as Dr Watson) reciting dialogue. But why? I wonder if it was because this was one of the first successful audio recording I ever did. I have no idea what happened to the recording, but I know I would have played it to death taking in the atmosphere of the story. I would have placed the 'plug-in' microphone, placing it near, but not against the speaker of the radio, with it's volume at a suitable level to avoid 'rumble'. I know that I would have done that.

Even though Barry Foster was my first radio ‘Holmes’, my all time favourite radio ‘Sherlock Holmes’ has to be Mr Clive Merrison. He has made the radio Holmes his own and totally encompasses the part. When I listen to the performances, I ‘see’ every aspect of the story. The late Michael Williams followed in the footsteps of the David Burke and Edward Hardwicke portrayals of John Watson and made him credible and human. Sadly, Michael Williams passed away and I was not sure who could replace him. Then I heard Andrew Sachs and felt he slipped into the role perfectly. However, when I read any Sherlock Holmes story, whether by Sir Arthur or a pastiche I still hear Clive Merrison and Michael Williams.

As for my first recollection of Sherlock on the screen, well it has to be the classic black and white adventures of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. I am sure I must have seen other actors play the part, but they were not Sherlock Holmes, Rathbone was. My favourite film? Well, that would be The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939), with Ida Lupino and the wonderfully menacing George Zucco.

Rathbone seemed perfect for the part and Bruce’s Watson was a great foil for Holmes intellect at least that was the way I saw it then. It was not until many years later and the arrival of late Jeremy Brett and (to me) the late Edward Hardwicke that I saw the real Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John H Watson, MD.

Jeremy Brett was cultured.

Jeremy Brett was manic.

Jeremy Brett was overly dramatic.

Jeremy Brett was subtle.

Jeremy Brett was Holmes.

Edward Hardwicke was not Jeremy Brett’s first Watson but he was the best. David Burke set a standard that Edward Hardwicke not only reached but also exceeded. He was not the bumbling oaf as portrayed by Nigel Bruce, and many other who saw his performance as definitive, but a sophisticated and truly believable human being. I would have trusted this man to treat my ailments in the same way I would have asked ‘Holmes’ to solve my mystery.

That is my first memory of Sherlock Holmes, a memory that will never go away. I still adore the stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and some of the imitators and I am sure I always will.

Forgive me, the fog is swirling around the gas lit streets, the wheels of a Hansom cab are rattling over the cobbles and the steady clump of a client’s boots are climbing the stairs. The game’s afoot!