Scene and heard

Yes! Someone has finally invented a fishing rod you can carry with you at all times, in jacket pocket, backpack, glove box or briefcase. It looks like a pen, but unfolds into a full length, ‘strong alloy’ fishing rod. A young boy - not quite the new Olivier – exclaims: “Wow! I always catch fish with my Fishpen!” Even actors pretending to be amateur and professional fishermen agree that this is a wonderful thing as they can now go fishing on a whim, without any preparation needed. Nobody actually packs the ‘deluxe pouch’ (a $20 value, “yours free”) which holds the reel and tackle.

Worse than this, however, is that they double your order and send you two kits. “That’s an $80 value for only $39.99!” This means that if the order wasn’t doubled, you only save a penny! It also means that the ‘deluxe’ pouch isn’t free at all! If it was, this would be at least a $120 value! (Maybe it’s something like the classic Dunkin Donuts print ad from 15 or 20 years ago: “Get 6 donuts free when you buy 6 at the regular dozen price”)

What kind of TV offer doesn’t offer you at least a 75% discount before they double your order!! You know the ones. “That’s right! You get the amazing nostril douche, with fully washable earwax and toe-jam sponge attachments; a free lifetime supply of replacement sponges, and the free mirror with backlight! A three (excited emphasis) billion (even more excited emphasis) dollar value! Yours (!) for only two easy payments of nine ninety nine!” Save me from this dross!

Hannah, the younger of my 2 kids, graduated today. She had assured me that it would be no big deal and I didn’t have to attend – only about 50 kids would be there. Well, 200 kids were there and it was a very big deal. Naturally, it was too long. What kind of graduation ceremony isn’t too long! It’s one of the rules!! But it was mostly very enjoyable and the keynote speaker, unlike my son’s’ graduation 2 years ago, was very good.

This picture is of a very happy Hannah, complete with newly dyed hair, flanked by her proud parents.

So, do I feel old now that both of my kids are out of high school and I just turned 50? No. I suspect I will feel old when Hannah turns 50 though. But that’s because I will be 82 years, 6 months and 2 days old then!

I shared driving duties with my son, Sean, on a round trip drive to Dearborn Heights, a Detroit suburb. On the return trip, it seemed that a quarter of I-80 in Pennsylvania was single lane. This added maybe 2 hours to the drive time. Even though we left at 9am and arrived in PA early in the afternoon, we only saw 3 ‘workmen’ the entire (I seem to recall) 314 miles of the Pennsylvania portion of the drive – the full journey from Dearborn Heights to Brooklyn is about 620 miles. 2 of these men were standing by a work truck and the 3rd, after a police car stopped traffic, jumped out of his work truck to pick up a temporary 50mph speed limit sign. That we had been going 15mph for the previous couple of miles was not lost on us. Neither was the fact that all the other temporary speed limit signs were for 40mph. But it was important that we stop so that this wrong road sign, informing us that the highest legal speed was 35mph faster than we were actually able to achieve, should be picked up.

This brings back one of my pet peeves and hopes for the future: There should be ‘smart’ road signs, which take into account both road conditions and the mood of drivers. I really don’t need to see signs warning of reduced speed ahead when I am already averaging a fraction of the new speed limit. And one sign peppered all over Pennsylvania, “Bridge may be icy”, has always prompted the thought in me “and pigs might fly’, seeing as I have never made one of my long distance drives in under 70 degree weather.

And I fail to see why, also in PA, the speed limit changes from 65 to 60 immediately after a sign informs you of road work 2 miles ahead, then changes to 55, 50 and 40 in quick succession shortly thereafter. Is this to gain revenue from the drivers who will inevitably ignore such nonsense? Could such a reason be challenged in a court?

There was one other reason for the drive through the Keystone State taking so long. There were few cars or trucks on the road for long stretches. It is ironic that when there are sufficient vehicles, the prevailing road speed may be 75 to 80 mph, so it is (or seems) safe to go at that speed with little fear of being stopped. But, when there are very few cars on the road, you have to drive closer to the actual limit.

I turned 50 this past Sunday, June 10th and had a party to celebrate it on Saturday. Unfortunately, and for different reasons, some of my best friends couldn’t make it, but the turnout was still nice.

My plan was to leave work at 5:30 (I actually left a little late) and kill some time by going to Trader Joe’s and pick up a few last bits and pieces for the party. I was just about to descend into Wall Street Subway station when my phone vibrated. It was Rosemary. “There’s a problem at Montreal. The train will not get to Chatham until 8 o’clock.” It’s a 2-hour train ride. Do I go straight home first? No! Why don’t I take up the offer of a drink with a couple of colleagues at a nearby pub? I started towards it, got 100 yards, then reasoned that if I went first to Trader Joe’s, I could have that nerve settling bevvy later, if I so desired. About to head into the same subway station, the phone once again vibrated. This time, it was Sean: “What time do I need to be at the airport?” “Nan’s flight is coming early, so you should be there no later than 7.” Well, I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m stuck on the Verrazano Bridge.” The traffic had hardly moved for the last hour and he couldn’t see how he could get there.

Perhaps, if I took the PATH to Newark and a cab to the airport, I could be there by 7:15? So I made my way to the World Trade Center PATH Station. As I sat on the train, Sean called to say that the traffic was now moving a little. Having been to this station many times, I had gone on auto pilot and realised too late that I had got on the wrong train! I was headed towards Hoboken! I called Sean when I got there. He was only just through the toll plaza and into Staten Island. It was 6:15 and I stood no chance of meeting my Mum on time.

Plan C, or was it D or E: I go into the City and do my shopping and wait there until Sean calls me having met my Mum. To make a long story slightly less long, he called me an hour later. He somehow got to the airport with time to spare and was heading towards the car. I could now afford to be underground and out of contact, so I started my journey home. Should be no contest as to who gets there first; but then again, that is discounting that I need the N and R trains and these are run by those caring stalwarts of customer service, the MTA. As my ‘express’ train was pulling into 59th Street, Brooklyn, an R was leaving. This was not the rush hour, so therefore pressure on schedules is less acute. It should have waited for us, according to MTA policy. Perhaps another one was right behind? I waited 16 minutes! I beat the other two home by 2 minutes and had to head back into Manhattan 20 minutes later. The train from Chatham finally arrived at 10:15, and after a leisurely drink, Rosemary and I arrived at my place at Midnight. I had long since realised that the omen from the morning wasn’t a good one at all. Spurs fans will know all too well that it ain’t over ‘till it’s over! Clearly, if there was an omen, that was it!

In the week leading up to the party, I obsessed, as we do in my family, about food. What do I need to buy? Where do I need to buy it? What about serving dishes? All the while, I was spending ages on the phone with Susan, Rosemary and several others. Three lunch dates and an evening drink filled my days. Each night, I got to bed later than I should have and spent about 2 hours laying awake - I was exhausted! On Wednesday night, I woke up with one word in my head: Coleslaw! I hadn’t made any for years, but couldn’t get it out of my head! What do I need to buy? I went through the ingredients. Should I buy a grater or Food Processor? When would I do it, as there was so much else to do? I started wishing I was thinking about women! Who the hell thinks about coleslaw for 2 hours!!! At least I slept on Thursday night!!

And so to party day. Rosemary had baked a birthday cake - her signature Carrot Cake - and helped prepare some food. Susan sent balloons. I marinated 17 ½ lbs of chicken wings, made my wing sauce, made 2 types of Pico de Gallo and my coleslaw, peeled 10 lbs of potatoes and cut them into nice fat English Chips and then relaxed, as people started arriving before 5pm and Sean took over the kitchen. Until midnight, people came and went. There were never more than 10 here at a time, so it was nice and cosy.

After an hour and a half of clean-up, I went to bed. Could have slept a week, but the phone rang at 10. My Mum gave me my Dad’s old Star of David and chain – very special. I cooked a full English breakfast for 3 and took Rosemary back to the train station in the late afternoon (and missed her train because the express subway went local – it did go express on the way back!). Also took birthday calls from England and California. But I did manage to relax a lot also. What a weekend! What a week!! Pleased I don’t turn 50 every week!!

I bought a bag of 'Rold Gold, Classic Style Pretzel Rods'. It is a "Special Edition". On the bag, highlighted for our approval are the words "Naturally Baked". I called Frito-Lay and asked the very nice Customer Service rep, "what constitutes 'naturally baked' and does this mean your other pretzels are unnaturally baked?"

After the rep. had finished laughing, then apologising for doing so, she asked a senior for the answer. "It means that they are baked in an oven, as you would at home."

"That's good to know. But does this mean that the other (not special edition) pretzels you make are baked unnaturally? How do you bake something unnaturally? I actually find the term 'baked naturally' confusing!"

She was very nice and I wasn't trying to give her a hard time. Quite the contrary, I was hoping that she and my listening colleagues would laugh. I accepted the lame official response and wished her a nice day.

Poor Paris! A judge has decided that she must serve out her sentence behind bars instead of in her luxurious house. Being somewhat cynical (English understatement), I imagined that she stopped fighting her original sentence when it was pointed out to her that she’s never going to get better publicity and what with the autobiography (ghost written, I hope!), album, ‘E’ True Hollywood Story, seminars for teen girls and poetry book (I was feeling very sad, 'cos being in Jail sucked real bad), accepting her sentence was a potential goldmine. 3 days into the sentence, a suggestion of an anonymous re-election campaign contribution for the local Sheriff suddenly made bulimia an illness too dangerous to be incarcerated with. But Paris, look on the bright side! Even celebrity magazine reading teens might have been hard pressed to believe your stories of how your ‘dreadful experience’ had reformed you and should serve as a warning to others. A few more people might believe you now. It’s money in the bank!

So there I was, at the back of a very long sandwich line at the downtown Stage Door deli – I was still at the back 5 minutes after joining it, thus demonstrating most unfortunate timing – when I hear an order at the ‘hot food’ counter, just behind me. “Grilled Cheese with Bacon, and a side of Fries.” I expected to see a man of proportions befitting of such a diet. But what I saw was an early 30’s young man of 5’9” or 5’10”, with average width shoulders, a chest which caved in, a waist which his trim fitting shirt couldn’t hope to fit trimly, and very narrow hips. Bastard! :)

Dotted all over the trading area where I work, there are TVs, each tuned to CNBC. This will come as no surprise to women, but I can’t help but feel that the women presenters have to live up to a standard not expected of the men. An intelligent male presenter needs only look serious. He certainly doesn’t need to be particularly attractive. But the women are all equally intelligent and absolutely gorgeous. So where are all the very smart, not so pretty women?

I expect this kind of standard from Fox. People aren’t tuning into that channel for the news, so its ‘news’ programs must entertain viewers with pretty people, good teeth and superficiality. But it shouldn’t happen on more highbrow TV Stations. Are these presumptions of shallowness based upon fact or perception? I wonder!

On June 10th, 1994, Pink Floyd were playing at Yankee Stadium. I got 2 tickets and went along with a date. But some time between arriving at the stadium and actually going in – my date had come with a bottle of champagne and a couple of ‘glasses’ (plastic, shaped as champagne glasses) to toast my birthday – the tickets disappeared! Whether I was pick-pocketed or just lost them, I can never know. But here I was, with a date but no tickets.

We saw a cop and my date told him about our predicament. I had thought she was crazy! What good could that do? It’s hardly as if someone would our tickets to a cop if they found them! But amazingly, a couple had just asked him if they could sell their tickets, as they had to leave suddenly. He told them they couldn’t. They had been walking away, but he called them back. They gave them to us! And they were much better than the ones I had in the first place! And if anyone reading this has ever been to a Floyd concert, they will know it was amazing. Happy Birthday Andy!!

I have been reading that New York State is planning on abolishing the anti-Scalping laws. Fair enough. But while they are at it, they might consider providing some protection for music and sports fans.

On the day that Police tickets became available, I called. All had been sold out. To individuals? Not many, I don’t think! Where was it announced? The euphemistically named ‘Ticket Agencies’ snapped them all up and were immediately selling at premiums of 100+%. Dread to think what they’re asking now.

So, New York, by all means, allow individuals to sell their tickets at market price, but first make sure that individuals have a fair shout at buying tickets in the first place!! In England, shows like this often have a limit of 4 tickets per person. Not that the agencies can’t get a lot of tickets that way. But it would take them long enough that fans would actually stand a chance of paying face value for once.