suspicious packages

Another dilemma day today - you will recall I recently had one involving our cat and his tormenting a mouse. Today it involved people and a package. We are exhorted to report suspicious packages to appropriate authorities. Today as we got on a tube train to travel from Islington to Edgware I sat down on a folding seat. Before doing so I asked the passenger sitting on the neighbouring folding seat if the carrier bag containing a box next to him was his. He shook his head and carried on reading. So there was I, sitting on a seat below which was a suspicious package. Que faire? as my French son-in-law might say. I said to my wife sitting in the next seat, "Shall I get off at the next station and go to the driver and tell him about the package?" (We were sitting in the front coach, and nowadays Tube traains do not have guards.) It would mean that our - and thousands of other people's journey would be delayed, for everyone would be evacuated, the line closed and the bomb squad called, no doubt. Would I be loved for it if they came and nothing dangerous was found? On the other hand if I did nothing and there was something dangerous and it went off...What would you have done? What in fact classifies as a 'suspicious' package?

A topic keeping the Times letter writers and columnists happy is Marriage. That is to say, in England the number of those who get married in church or registry office is falling. Co-habitation seems much easier and cheaper. I am not going to discuss its pros and cons now, but comment on those who say that one disadvantage of tying the knot at the altar is that married couples are worse off in the taxation system. That may be the case, but if plighting one's troth in a formal way, with a commitment for a lifelong union, is affected by one financial nuisance, then doing so suggests one has a shallow conception of marriage.
Now that could stir up a hornet's nest...!

mobiles on buses

An amazing letter in theTimes today. It is nearly half a column long, which is in itself impressive. The correspondent recounts the mobile phone conversation she heard from a bus passenger in the seat behind as to how she the said speaker would be spending that week-end. It lasted half-an hour and was directed to half a dozen different numbers. I am hard of hearing in lower tonal ranges and so have the capacity for selective hearing - useful in some situations - but when I do hear conversations, sermons, instructions of even a minimal length I am hard-pressed to be able to recount what I have heard, let alone remember it all and make a worthwhile letter out of it!

A scenic muse

Nothing has appeared in the post in the past few days to inspire a muse, even though Berry the cat had his inspiration with a m(o)use, which quite a-muse-d him I think; I did forget to mention that he also mewed because the mouse did not run and so give him sport. He should have looked at this picture and mused (mewsed) on its quiet peace and reflected about things. Anyway it seemed a pleasant thought to put a picture on blogline, and after much trial and effort on the part of myself and my good lady we finally gave up and asked the dunadan to supply the knowledge which he was graciously pleased to do. It is located in Scotland, ye ken; in fact it is Loch Ken - and any connection with the current mayor of London is strictly denied. (Looking back at this sentence I perceive a slight ambiguity about the word 'it' in 'it is located'. This could apparently refer to either 'knowledge' or 'the dunadan' but actually refers to the scenery portrayed on the picture. On such trivial misunderstandings do wars occur and friends fall out.

Cat and Mouse

Well I told you didn't I that these things could take a life of their own, and so it is today...Instead of my first musing being on the Times it's on Berry the cat. Berry, a several years old Tom has just caught his second mouse in two and half years living with us. The first we found dead on Evie's bed but today's was very much alive and HE JUST PLAYED WITH IT!!! Then when it hid under the washing machine he just waited patiently for an hour until it ventured out again. Alas it was no Tom and Jerry outcome for the puir wee crittur, but rather loss of blood and a gradually feeling of the inevitable. On several occasions it played possum in the middle of the floor, as if hoping that Berry would think it gone away and abandon the chase. But a gentle pat destroyed such vain hopes. After an hour of such cavortings I was faced with a dilemma - moral? ethical? I know not. I watch a lot of nature programmes and the word is non-interventional. Let Nature, natural behaviour take its course. Should therefore I let Berry have his pleasure until the mouse expired and become an ex-mouse or should I take steps to put it out of its misery? To intervene or not to not to intervene what would you have done?

Introduction2

This is my second attempt to overcome technical inexpertise to get started out on my first blog step. They said it would be easy, but some of us out here in the real world have an infinite capacity for proving them wrong. So in case this does not work again I will stop here and press publish and hold my breath!

Well would you believe it, we got a result...nay, the result required. So I wonder why pressing Save failed, or was it because I altered the time. It matters not, I'm here and henceforth hope to add my ha'pence to comments arising from the London Times letters page, and articles therein. this is because I'm always thinking of responses, but the chances of being published are slim and I feel I just have to write something...