Only a week separates these two pictures, taken from the roof of Doha Mercure (the Sofitel to its friends). That's how fast the old city is disappearing to make way for the new. The whole area from National to Boat Roundabout is now reduced to Rubble City. It's too late now, but somebody should have fitted a time lapse camera to Sofitel roof to record the disappearance of a city. A casual record can be found in the annals of this blog, but intermixed with so much fluff that I doubt it will ever feature in the National Archive.
On a happier note, The Paranormal blog will return to its roots this week, as Paraglider has a couple of days' work scheduled in Dubai.
There are two pretty good ways to weigh a car: Drive it to the nearest public weighbridge and wait your turn. Look up the manual under General Specifications, ‘kerb weight’ But let's suppose the nearest public weighbridge is fifty miles away and you've lost the manual (and temporarily forgotten how to use public libraries and the Internet) and the burning urge to weigh your car just won't go away- what can you do about it? The good news is, you need hardly any equipment. All you need, for a reasonably accurate result is: a hand-held tyre pressure gauge which can be analogue or digital a retractable steel measuring tape a calculator, pencil and paper, or a good head for mental arithmetic The method Park the car on some clean, level concrete Observe that the car is held up by its four tyres (!) Measure the width of the tread of one tyre: e.g. 6 inches Measure the length of tread in contact with the ground: e.g. 7 inches Work out the area of tread touching the ground: e.g. 6 x
It's not that the landscape's so different from the UAE. Yes, it's colder. Snow takes the place of sand; conifers, of palms; stone walling, of concrete. One leaden sky is much like another, whether laced with ice crystals or with traffic fumes. And after all, what is a hill but a plane, tilted? Yet here, there is the suspicion, however unfounded, that were attrocities to be committed deep in this frozen wilderness, justice might follow , in due course.
This song by Harry Gordon is about 100 years old and is in the Scottish music hall tradition. It's short because it was the lead into a stand-up comedy routine in character. The character in this case being a fireman on the footplate of a steam engine.
I have been uncharacteristically quiet in recent weeks over the ongoing Brexit debacle. There are reasons for this and the most important one is: it matters nothing what I think, mine is a small voice in the wilderness, what will be will be, so why add to the fog of verbiage? That said, I feel moved to deliver myself of the following, on a take it or leave it basis, i.e. I'm not really up for arguing the points: 1. The 2016 referendum was ill-conceived and exacerbated by the then PM's complacency and lack of preparation. He deserved to lose, and did. So, there are consequences. 2. A referendum should be a last resort and should be binding for a generation. As an example: Alex Salmond stated as much when he thought he was going to win Scottish independence.. When he lost, he reneged on this principle, at the expense of his political integrity. 3. I would have preferred to remain in the E.U. but I cannot see a democratically valid way to realise this. I also think it likely that
When Matthew Gloag (no relation to his namesake who founded The Famous Grouse distillery) was five years old, he wrote, in his exercise book, "My cat is a nice cat" and was duly praised by the teacher who, unfortunately, did not suggest the obvious improvement. So it was that, satisfied with this construction, in his later school years Matthew went on to produce such sentences as, "The French Revolution was a very bloody revolution" and "The Tolpuddle Martyrs were notable m artyrs". Somehow, it matters not how, Matthew eventually found himself employed in a Health and Safety capacity by First Great Western Railways where, among other duties, he was assigned to produce platform signage. And that is why, on every lamp standard, on every platform between London Paddington and Hereford, we can read Mr Gloag's finest work to date: THIS STATION IS A NO SMOKING STATION We don't need no education...