We Can Be Heroes

I should really let my once omnipresent optimistic side out more often.  She has been much diluted but is still there so this is what I once would have sounded like.

We have watched as gold medals roll in and confused at the apologies from those for winning mere silver medals (you won a freaking silver, silver in a highly competitive field of finely tuned athletes is nothing to be ashamed of.)  

The only grumble was when the widely excellent BBC coverage cut away from the track athletics where Team GB were winning an embarrassing amount, to show a penalty shoot-out between Team GB and whoever.  Naturally Team GB lost but the change in mindset was interesting.

Perhaps the lack of sporting interest has much to do with the prevalence of football over everything.  Seeing the prima donna footballers, earning stupid amounts for not doing much (considering there are 11 of them, sometimes not even playing during the 90 minute game, and one ball - which is lucky to see the back of the net more than once or twice) their very messy private lives all over the gossip pages. 

Then there are the other group idolised by the general public - the reality shows.  The hard work, perseverance and determined dedication shown by the Olympians makes a refreshing change from the faux tension of someone not singing in tune but their granny just died so that's ok.

Wait, I'm not putting it right...here, let Bradley do it.

There is much talk about how if Yorkshire were competing as a separate country they'd be 8th on the medal table.  No mention of how far up Scotland would be but, as we only have 5 million of a population I think we'd be proud!

(Note:  Scotland will never become independent of Britain.  Britain is the island, no escape from there unless we start digging a jolly big trench, we will (hopefully) become independent of the United Kingdom government.  This is not due to hating England but a wish to see what would happen on our own again.  It was a parcel of rogues who bankrupted Scotland, leading to the need for a union.  Anyway, that's a whole other subject.)

::Insert Beatles Song Title with word "Love" in it here::

The dress, I likey, otherwise I'd have no comment at all on this, nice as it is for them.

Single Mum On Benefits

A title like that would have certain parts of the press foaming rabidly at the mouth in delighted rage. A title that sweeps a large section of society together so the rest of the people can form an orderly line to stick the boot in too.

I'm not going to provide a link to the odious article, 'tis what Google was made for. I would love to know who it is that they use as the guideline to judge the rest of us though because she must be really well off.

The majority of single mums, sorry I am going to say single parents as it isn't just the mums y'know, are not simply sitting back and racking in a fortune in benefits. Most of us have never been on benefits before and are using them in the way the are supposed to be used. As a step up, as a helping hand during bad times. Not as a career choice. Not to wickedly take money from tax-payers.

Certainly there is a minority, the kind of people who have parents and grandparents on benefits, who have children outwith a stable relationship and who have no intention of changing the status quo. They are indeed a minority, though the lazy journos who like to write sensationalist bullying stories wouldn't care to point that out.

Instead we are all thrown together. In one big heap. Signed off as useless.

Single parents, of the type I refer to - on benefits now but not forever - are dealing with a lot more than the meeja care to understand. We deal with the effects of broken relationships, we try and steer our children through the mess, we cope with feelings of failure at not making a marriage on long-term relationship work and yes, we feel guilt and humiliation at having to ask the state for help. If they think it is easy they should attempt to comfort a 6-year-old child, or two, crying at night or asking for a new daddy in a way that would break a heart of stone. And during all this we have to read pathetic headlines that the big bad single parents are so much better off than the nice working families.

Guess what, I know plenty of families on benefits. Plenty of two parent families where at least one parent could work. Funny how you never hear of them. Or of the large amount of 18-25 year olds who leave school and can't see the point of getting a job which I think is a scarier and more interesting prospect for a story. I suppose though, it is better to wait until one of that group pops out a baby and joins the already formed pariahs of society.

Easy targets. We have them.

Gods Way Of Eking Out The Stupid

See here for example.

Free Boaby

Oh how much will this not translate to anyone not from central Scotland! But as my readership is probably just me anyway that doesn't matter.

I have an inkling that this may be a publicity stunt but the other morning while driving the Hobbits to school (between 8.20-8.40) I heard this brilliant song dedicated to the "mouse" of a certain wind-up merchant called Cecil. Now Cecil is one of the characters (played by the host Robin Galloway) who participates in the morning wind-up calls made to various businesses - some with absolutely no sense of humour at all shown when taking these calls.

Cecil just happens to have a pet mouse called Boaby, which coincidentally is also a slang word for a certain part of the male anatomy. (Joke on hearing an old woman talking about "Boaby" someone asks "Who is Boaby", the reply "Oh anyone's Boaby!") Maybe it doesn't translate well on the page but it is funny when you hear it - promise!

For some reason best know to themselves (publicity stunt!) the radio station has banned the song (and from what I can tell poor Boaby has had the chop too, ouch!) Well, it might sound kind of, maybe similar to something by T-Rex. Still when I first heard the song we were all laughing and I had to dissuade the Hobbits from singing it as we walked into school.

I am sure if Marc Bolan had a Boaby like Cecil's he would want to sing about it too.

Recognise the need for good old Scottish humour and free Boaby!