Translators

I am trying out three different translators at the moment.

No 1, Yahoo's Babelfish, has a drop-down list and seems efficient, but only has 12 languages. This one is available with flags as an alternative.

No 2, by Google Translate, has flags and 24 languages, and also seems efficient. And it has the advantage of offering a floater (or whatever they are called) with the original text, to read alongside the translation.

No 3, from Widgetbox, has a drop-down list of about 40 languages !!, and takes up the least space (bonus point), but appears the least efficient, as I have not managed to make it translate into German, Italian, Spanish, Dutch or Welsh. I did however get a Latin translation from it, from which I learned that my blog is called NON MORTUUS ETIAMNUNC! in Latin. Sounds impressive, even if it may be rather rough Latin!

I shall be very pleased if anyone cares to try any of them out, and leave an opinion of their relative efficiency and appeal. Eventually I shall have to delete two of them.

Energy bills on line

A year or two ago my lovely son who keeps me and my computer living happily together, did some additional sorting out for me, and transferred my energy and telephone accounts to companies who would charge me less. At the same time I opted for on-line billing, because it seemed a good idea to save some paper, and for paying by direct debit.

I don't think this has been altogether a good thing. The mails drop into my inbox announcing that my bill is ready to be read, but because that means going to their website and logging on, and because as it happens I seem to have a different combination of ID and password for each account, and because I can never remember them, and because payment is automatic so I don't risk being cut off ... (draw a deep breath) ... I tend not to bother looking at them.

Yesterday my carelessness came home to roost. I received a letter (a real space, hard copy letter) announcing that my energy suppliers were going to increase my monthly direct debit by £45 a month, as my account was in debt and my present payment was not enough to cover the amount of electricity and gas "we think you are going to use over the next twelve months". Panic! Stereotypical elderly, confused panic: "Help! I can't understand. I want my son. He'll have to come and sort it out for me. Oh-oh-ohhh!"

But then I pulled myself together and decided it was time to get to understand my energy bills, and to check out whether my consumption had really increased, in spite of having cavity wall insulation done in January. I wasted a lot of time noting down the payments I'd been making over the past couple of years, before realising that I should be checking consumption, rather than charges, which we know have gone up substantially here in the UK. And, to my chagrin, it appeared that my consumption had increased over the previous year.

But had it really? I noted that this latest quarterly bill had been based on an estimated reading, and on the strength of this they were also estimating the amount of energy they thought I would use in the coming year. Not good enough. Definitely not good enough. I would have to take readings myself and post them on line. The trouble is that crouching under the stairs where the meters are, is apt to bring on a spell of dizziness nowadays, and I prefer someone else to do it for me. But this was urgent. Needs must when the devil drives, as they say. I discovered that if I let my typing chair down to its lowest level, and wheeled it through to the hall - (or 'walked' it through like a baby walker!) - I could sit at the right level and only have to bend my head slightly to take the readings with a torch. (I wonder if I could have my meters moved? I bet it would cost a bomb.)

I posted my readings on line, and this morning I got an amended bill, knocking off £85 pounds, and withdrawing the notice that they were going to up my monthly direct debit by £45 a month.

I also discovered that my online account details show my average daily consumption of electricity and gas for the billing period, and also the figures for the same period last year, and it does appear to have gone down not up, which is what I was expecting, after having the insulation done.

So I'm really quite chuffed at the end of the day. And I did need to get to understand the billing system for myself. In future, I shall try to do my own readings each quarter and post them on line.

Schooldays are the happiest... continued

~
Governor representatives in my Education Authority had a very long-running lobby for improving the clerking arrangements for governing bodies, beginning in 1988 as part of an Education Committee review of the clerking service. They campaigned not only for individual clerks for individual governing bodies, but also for their proper training and support. As so often happens when those fighting for a cause feel that they are not being heard through normal channels, we resorted to special measures. County Councillors attending an education meeting in January 1990 to discuss these issues, were each greeted with a copy of a poem laid on the table in front of them. Whether it was significant in bringing about the desired result we shall never know, but as the author of the work I would like to think that it was. At least it was reprinted in the next issue of the LEA's governors' magazine.

School governors' plea for a proper clerking service

We’ve said it before and we say it again:
We’re ready to learn and we’re willing to train;
We’ll read all the papers and sign on for courses;
But what is the use if we have no resources?

We’ve said it before and we’re saying it now:
We’re learning what’s what and we’re finding out how.
We’re eager to put it to work for our schools,
But to do a good job we must have the right tools.

We’ve said it before and we’ll say it with flowers:
The government thinks we should delegate powers
To small sub-committees - but then if we do,
Their meetings and work will need servicing too.

We’ve said it before and we’ll say it all day:
We cannot work miracles, try how we may;
We have our own jobs, and our families need us.
Must we do the admin? Will nobody heed us?

We’ve said it before and we want you to hear:
Our voluntary service is costing us dear.
We won’t go on strike, and we don’t want to pack up,
But please! don’t abuse us - do give us the back-up.

We’ve said it before and we’re saying it still:
The way is now clear and we do have the will
To play our full part and square up to the task.
Are the means to this end really too much to ask?
~

School days are the happiest days ...

~

Back in 1991, the secondary school of which I was a governor gave a concert, called 'Music Galore', performed by staff, parents and ex-students. Some talented person adorned the programme with this lively cartoon - it was not, however, captioned in the original.

When I got it home the temptation proved too much for me, and I set about identifying each of the characters performing before the curtain here. You will note that I have committed a serious error of political correctness, in that I have named the feet of the fallen character in the middle 'headmaster', when I should of course have written 'headteacher'.

At that time PC was regularly taking me by surprise, perhaps most on the occasion when a staff member said to me: "Oh no, don't ring then, because the phone won't be personned". It took me a double take to realise he meant "manned", and I was on the edge of laughing in his face and causing great offense, when I realised he was serious. He could have said "staffed", which would have worked much better.

I should explain that the DEO was the Divisional Education Officer; our Local Education Authority was divided into divisions, and at the time that I became a governor in the late 1980s, the DEO, on behalf of the Chief Education Officer, took the role of Clerk to all the Governing Bodies in his Division. He more or less ruled the roost where the governing body was concerned, but things were changing.

The government had passed new education acts in 1980 and 1986, governing bodies were becoming more powerful, with much heavier responsibilities, and they were beginning to demand their own individual clerks to help them cope with the extra work. In 1990 our Education Department appointed new Deputy Clerks for the purpose, together with a small budget to enable them to be paid. The DEO was still the top man, but didn't get his own way so often. So the Deputy Clerk in my picture was a very welcome novelty to the school at that time.

[I think that I was actually Chairman of Governors when I made this scurrilous addition to the drawing, but I'm not sure I ever had the courage to show it to anyone else!]

~

Talking to myself

~
It happens more and more as I get older. I don't know whether it is increasing age or living alone that brings it on, or a combination of both, but I do it all the time at home. It's nice to have the sound of a voice, and sometimes I need to encourage, or possibly discourage myself in what I am doing, or even ask myself what the hell it is I think I am doing!


On the whole I try not to do it when out and about, but the habit is so ingrained by now that it just breaks out from time to time. This evening, as I took my constitutional round the block, I noticed ahead of me a young couple standing beside a shiny black open-top sportscar. Next moment I noticed a tiny blond girl-child sitting behind the wheel."Oh!" I say, as my thoughts push my mouth open "there's a small per......." - but at the first sound of my voice the young man's head has come up and he is looking at me enquiringly.


"Sorry" I say "I was talking to myself. I was going to say 'there is a small person driving a big car'", and I smile in what I hope is a disarming manner. "Hmm - trying to" comes the response from the young man, who has fortunately not taken my remarks amiss.


So all in all quite a pleasant exchange, but supposing I had been passing disagreeable comment on someone? It could have turned nasty! I really must watch myself.

I found this illustration on a fascinating website called verbotomy.com - you really should visit it, especially if you are a lover of words. With great difficulty and some guessing web searches, I managed to decipher the name under the cat's paw, so that I could give them a plug. So I hope they don't mind my using the picture.

~

Writing under pressure

~
Ten years ago, at one of our Growing Old Disgracefully gatherings, we did a writing workshop. We were asked - or rather challenged - to write a poem to someone we know well, and to liken that person to:

a colour

a kind of weather

a time of day or year

a sound

a form of transport

a kitchen implement

something eatable

an animal

a speed

We were given about 15 minutes to complete the task. In such circumstances one can hardly help but write from the heart. This was my poem. I seem to have cheated slightly on the last line.

You are my brown earth and my green growth,
You are my light and warmth and the breeze that blows.
You are my springtime and my renewal,
You are birdsong and the chime of bells.
You are the wheels that change my horizons,
You are my top gear, my accelerator.
You are the knife that cuts out waste.
You are my bread and my wine.
You are my best friend and companion.

~~~~~~

Holiday over

.

So what other delights came my way during my northerly tour?


Firstly ~ daffodils :: drifts and swathes and gusts of daffodils everywhere - hardly a stretch of road without them it seemed, in gardens, in fields and on roadsides. My Australian family were particularly delighted with these.

Secondly ~ lambs :: I had not seen any before we left, but they seemed to be in almost every field as we drove, some appearing to have dropped to earth the moment before we passed. Strangely though, by the time we had crossed the Scottish border there were no more. However, by the time we left ten days later Deeside had its own crop of new lambs too.

Thirdly ~ my very first red squirrel, with its cute little tufty ears, feeding outside the window of my daughter-in-law's parents' house. Very difficult to get a shot from inside the house, but I didn't dare even approach the window, in case I startled him. It seems that deer come too to their garden, which is set into the edge of the forest, but sadly I did not see one. Nor did we ever manage to see any real highland cattle, with their shaggy coats, short legs and long horns.

Birds ~ I saw my first oystercatcher too, described from a distance by a friend of my son's who knew no better, as "that big bird with a carrot in its mouth"! Also plenty of buzzards, but no eagles, and only a stuffed capercaillie at the Balmoral Castle museum.

That seems to lead by a natural progression to ...

Food ~ I tried three types of game that I had never eaten before:

• Roast pheasant, cooked by my son's mother-in-law, which was absolutely scrumptions;
  
• Scottish Wood Pigeon en croute which I didn't like at all (very gamey), and passed over to my son to finish; and


• Loin of Glen Muick Venison, which I found passable, but wouldn't order again.

The last two were ordered at a posh hotel when we went out to dinner one night. I deliberately took a risk, as I felt I should try something both new and local. I'm glad I did, just to be able to say so, but if I ever go there again I shall go for the halibut or the pork! It was all very elegantly cooked and served, and at the start of the meal we were presented with complimentary portions of thick mushroom soup, served in individual mini soup tureens, with a flaky pastry lid over the top. Now that I did like, as well as the Vanilla Pannacotta with cherries soaked in kirsch to finish.

That was at the Darroch Learg Hotel and Restaurant in Ballater. For more ordinary meals with the children as well, we went twice to The Potarch Hotel (more like an Inn) at Banchory. Here everybody could be served rather more quickly, and eat generously and appropriately, and those young enough to be energised by a big meal could go outside afterwards to play on a massive expanse of green field beside the River Dee.

We also went to a delightful farm shop and tearoom at Finzean, off the road from Aboyne to Banchory. Lots of freezers filled not only with farm grown fruit and veg, but also pies and cakes and other goodies. Upstairs in the restaurant were mixed salad platters with various meats and fish, soups and sandwiches. And every spare corner stuffed with attractive books, toys, household goods and accessories. Very difficult to walk away without a shopping bag filled with something. This review is worth reading if you have a chance to go there.

Then there was my favourite bolt-hole right in the middle of Aboyne: the Coffee House and Emporium at The Sign of The Black Faced Sheep. They serve the most delicious cakes, a good variety of drinks, and mixed salad platters that are to die for. I went back there many times, with the whole family and on my own, and even brought one of their salad platters back to the b&b when I wanted a restful day. Strangely enough, although their emporium was stuffed with attractive goods, they didn't actually have any cards or other souvenirs of black faced sheep. This was a pity, as my Australian family were particularly looking for something of the sort to take home to a friend in Sydney.

And finally, the air ~ clean and fresh, blowing in off the North Sea, decidedly brisk when the sun was not warming us, but giving such a clarity to every prospect, from the village green nearby to the forests all around and the distant snowy peaks.

[Pictures from the web]
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