boring old fart:
Michael Aspirin Explores. Bio.
Here we all are at the height of the holiday season and I cannot help but wonder what is going on with our climate. They used to tell us it (not the climate for the pedants) would lead to blindness but that must have been in the days when politicians were real men for now it would seem to lead to global warming, if you get my drift. Or maybe I am old and bitter, no I am more mild and bitter like my old friend Hayballs.
I was relieved to read recently that a new inland sea is being created by those tectonic plates in Africa but the irony of it is appalling. The new sea is being created by a rift in Ethiopia that will seperate Eritrea from Ethiopia and connect with the Red Sea. Good news you say, I know I did. But wait, this is happening in geological time and it will be a million years before Eritrea has it's own seaside resort. It just goes show how important mankind is in the scheme of things. Not that there is a scheme but you will get my drift. Possibly.
Now I know why I dropped science at school and did antiques instead!
One of the most rewarding things about becoming such as I am is that one increasingly could not care a toss for what other people think about what one thinks. Bliss! So if my missive this month seems a tad less focused than usual then get thee to an optician matey!
Shopping, what ever happened to this simple process? OK, that's not real a question on my part, I know what happened. Shopping changed from being a survival activity to a major female activity of choice - not in itself such a bad thing were it not for the fact that women are such bad shoppers. So bad that any joy to be had from the process of obtaining goods has long gone.
The female shopping process is undirected and unbearable to real men. Who, in their right mind, sets out for town at 10 am with no goal other than to spend the whole day looking in shop windows to order to see if there anything that catches their eye. Have you been to town lately? Crowds of women and trainee women in clothes far too small for them that they can only be their little sister's cast offs. All of them rushing from one cheap clothes shop to the next, sporting plastic carrier bags which would appear to serve as some sort of sad status symbol. Sickeningly, there is a pall of pinkness over much of this activity, activity which when seen from above must make shopping appear to be the actions of a berserk species of pink ant whose control tower is down for maintenance.
Most men, on the other hand do not wear pink and only shop when they know that they have something to purchase. Can you imagine a man spending a morning strolling from store to store just in case there is new type of screwdriver that he might want some day? No, of course you can't. We go in knowing what we want, purchase it and get out as fast as we can. Over and done within an hour.
Kippers, what has happened to them? God only knows but when I was a lad there were kippers everywhere, cornershops, fishshops, Lyons Cafes, boarding houses. Gone, all gone. Let's be clear, I am talking real kippers here not those puke-awful poor relations sealed in a plastic bag with a strangely shaped lump of butter. I know I can get those Anastasia coloured objects - damn things are ubiquitous. And another thing, kedgeree - who, beyond the Isle of Wight, eats that for breakfast these days? It explains a lot when you consider that it was the Empire's favourite morning nibble.
Recently I was very pleased to discover that the sardine and the pilchard are in fact one and the same fish - the pilchard being the sardine's elder brother (or sister, of course). As one gets older it becomes increasingly pleasurable to experience the interconnectness of stuff - sardines and pilchards!
Giant squids are something else and it was gratifying to find that scientists have discovered a shark that eats these scary monsters. It's strange to note that there weren't giant squids in the 1960s, oh sure there were Moby Dickish legends but not washed up carcases in New Zealand. It all makes me think of shifting sands and tectonic plates, not that we had the latter in those far off days.
As you know, I used to be famous but now my ex-agent tells me that I'm a figure of fun and anyone under forty says, "Michael Who?" I'm not complaining, I get to visit stately homes with my National Trust Freedom Card and policemen treat me nicely - what more could a man such as I desire?! Talking of the National Trust - aren't they wonderful? All those rotting old buildings unfit for anyone you'd think but oh no, those wiry little workmen are in there in a flash with their scaffold poles and trowels. Let's not forget the lady conservators with their eye for tapestries and furnishings - where would we be without them! One wants to cheer which makes me think of HMS Pinafore - I wonder if the crew had pilchards or kedgeree for breakfast?
Who Is Michael Aspirin?
Michael Aspirin was a well known television person who presented this and that, he may even have presented the evening news bulletin at some point. Who remembers and, outside his immediate circle, who has time to care? To new readers we may seem hard and unloving in our approach but, for goodness sake, we are trying to create copy for a website here we are not attempting any kind of therapy. And, when we registered this domain there was nothing in the small print about being nice.
Be that as it may, we are fairly enthusiastic about having a token old fart aboard. So, let's hear it for Michael!
coypright Charles Ivermee, 2006