RIP Pete Barnes

Tragically this morning, a helicopter in London crashed into a crane and subsequently burst into flames, killing the pilot of the helicopter and another person.

I don't know the exact circumstances, but I did know that Pete Barnes, the pilot, was an exceptional man. As a teenager, I was lucky enough to be taken for a spin in a helicopter by this gorgeous man, and I also had the pleasure of giving him a lift in my car on another occasion. Charming, witty, handsome and polite, even to a gawking teen.

Tributes pouring in acknowledge his flying skills, his bravery, his heroics and, most of all, what a thoroughly nice man he was.

It is indeed a tragedy that he was taken so young (50), doing what he did so brilliantly, and I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to have met him so many years ago. May he rest in peace.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm jumping on the bandwagon

Yeah, I'm late. Checking into Twitter, I find some amount of venom aimed at Ms Julie Burchill.
So I Google her name.
So, we don't like transsexuals today. Or we do, and we don't like them being slagged off.
Sigh. Here *we* go again. Feminists versus the world.
I didn't like Ms Burchill's piece because it is vile. But I also resented being involuntarily lumped in as an uneducated, working class drone that wants nothing more than feminist supremacy.
No, thanks, I'm quite posh and clever and I'd quite like to just get on being me and letting everyone else get on with their lives. Unless they make a lot of noise, steal from me or vote Tory, what they do/are is no concern of mine.
Oh, I'm not linking to the article, it's horrid. Go Google and you too can experience the surreal experience of the Telegraph castigating the Observer for being bigoted.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life... and I'm feeling meh

Ok, it's not a new day, dawn or life, and it's not quite new year any more either. But I haven't blogged in a while, no, really, and so I feel compelled to say:

A very merry Christmas to all the bots out there! And I do hope all the legions of real people anxiously awaiting my latest bloggage had a most splendid Christmas. And indeed, anyone else. Them too. A really happy one.

Christmas for me was a bit spoiled by the illness of everyone, but the children had a brilliant time and were more or less well on the big day. Poor grumpypants had tonsillitis and couldn't eat or particularly stay out of bed. Most everyone was frugal this year, myself included, which puzzles me slightly as to why it took 4 years of recession before this kicked in. Grumpypants was most generous; I received a Chromebook, which is quite brilliant and shall be blogged about in due course. This was on top of the Kindle Touch I received as an early Christmas present in October. 

Yes I know, patience would have yielded a Paperwhite, but no Chromebook. So I win really, I have a shiny new Touch that does the job just grand, and a Chromebook. Way. How many times can I mention the Chromebook? Many.

So that was Christmas. Me being spoilt mostly. I'm not holding out for much for my birthday on Friday. I may pretend the Kindle was a birthday present.

Happy new year also. May 2013 be bountiful. I type 2014 first almost every time I type the year. I'm obviously not anticipating a good year and want this one out of the year.

According to my 2012 new year spraff, which can be revisisted here, I undertook the following for 2012:

* Finish my dissertation and finally get the MSc I've been doing since 2007.
* Lose the baby belly. 
* Move to a house that's big enough for 5 of us. 

No, no and no, although I did submit the dissertation today so that just missed. Although it was a big bit rubbish so may need redone. 

The other two, well, no go. 

The baby belly is marginally smaller, having toyed with various fixes, the most successful of which was a low carb diet, which was surprisingly easy, effective, solved all my niggly ailments, and which gave me agonising pains that may well be gallstones. So we're back on the carbs, with the accompanying belly, stecky joints and perpetual hunger. I may one day master the art of moderation.

We're still in the same old 2 bed flat. We have lived here for ten years this year, seven of which with two children and a bit over a year with a third. She's still in our room, is ever accumulating belongings and it is a Bit of a Problem.

So for this year, things are quite simple resolution wise:

1) lose the belly that's hung around too long to be called a baby belly
2) move house
3) learn the art of moderation

Anything else just seems a bit ambitious. I can't think of anything else I achieved last year. Ooh, other than successfully icing the Christmas cake with royal icing. The year before I had a daughter who I had long hoped for but neither planned nor expected. This year I plan to enjoy her as much as I can before she grows up at a rate of astonishing swiftness. Her brothers turned seven last week. Seven??!! I'm not sure how that happened. Yes, I know. Passage of time, constantly, and all that, it's a turn of phrase. Gad. My imaginary reader is so pedantic!

2011 - had a daughter
2012 - iced a cake

Doesn't quite compare. Although the latter required skill, the former just happened all by itself and all I had to do was not smoke, drink or eat swordfish.

So. I do intend to blog more but I always intend to blog more, except that time back then when I used to blog more.

We'll see what 2013 brings, and perhaps find out why I'm so keen to deny it.