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Posted on February 7th, 2010
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Posted on February 4th, 2010
Owen Hargreaves has been omitted from Manchester United’s Champions League squad for the knockout stages, a move which casts a dark cloud over the tenacious midfielder’s chances of making Fabio Capello’s World Cup squad.
The omission from European action does not mean he won’t play again this season but, as with team mate Michael Owen, time is running out for Hargreaves to prove his fitness and gatecrash the party in South Africa. Capello will not gamble with fitness and Hargreaves will surely need to play at least ten games for his club to register on the steely Italian’s radar.
The worrying aspect is not the injury itself, which is said to be healed, more the mental fragility of the player following such a lengthy absence. The vibes coming out of Old Trafford are that Hargreaves is finding it difficult to commit fully to playing and is struggling with confidence. This is hampering a return to full fitness and the club are giving him all the time he needs.
The World Cup clock will stop ticking for nobody though and perhaps Hargreaves has already accepted his fate? At 29 he won’t get too many more chances on the biggest stage and it will be a real disappointment if Germany 06 was his pinnacle with England.
Tags: England, South Africa 2010, World Cup
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Posted on February 1st, 2010
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Posted on January 29th, 2010
I have done some more work on this story that I read out part of in class. It is morphing into something larger now(!) but I’ve trimmed a version into a short story that I am going to enter into a competition. It is a new subscribers comp in Writer’s News. It can be about any topic and must be between 1500 & 1700 words. Deadline is Jan 31st so I don’t have long. I will edit it in a few days and if anybody has any comment to make please do! If you spot any errors let me know as well. Cheers all..! I’m having fun writing it, hope you enjoy reading it…
LAST BREATH by Lee Bennett, January 2010 (word count 1697)
As he heaved himself out of bed Colin shuddered and his vest shuddered with him. Squinting at the carriage clock the antique timepiece told him it was a little after ten. He harumphed loudly at being deprived a lie-in. He hated Thursdays. After a cursory sniff under his arms, he tipped himself into his dressing gown and shuffled downstairs to the kitchen. He hated Thursdays for two reasons – he loathed getting up early and he still wasn’t used to wearing his mother’s clothes in public.
With a pan of water on the boil he decided that bacon and sausages would brighten his mood. Opening the refrigerator as he contemplated the day ahead, he gasped at the emptiness within. “I am absolutely certain that there were both bacon and sausages in this fridge! Mother! Did you eat all the sausages?!” he bellowed. There was no reply of course so he spent some time gathering himself, deciding what to do. A trip to the shops was out of the question so he would have to make do with whatever was in the pantry. As the water on the hob hissed and bubbled out of the pan, he inspected the pantry and plumped for beans and a tin of steak pudding. He also found half a loaf of bread and buttered it all.
Hungrily devouring breakfast, he pondered the mysterious disappearance of the sausages and slowly a hazy memory from the previous night began to surface. A memory, comprising a bottle of sherry, reruns of Dad’s Army and a late night feast of bacon and sausages. Peering into the living room, he saw the debris of the night before and the memory was complete. “Looks like you’re off the hook Mother” he barked. Having slurped the last of his tea, he shoved plate, mug and fork to the side and went upstairs to dress.
Being roughly the same size as his mother was a good thing and fortunately Colin hadn’t needed to shop for ladies clothes. He burrowed through a drawer searching for some tights that he hadn’t already ripped holes in. He located a suitable brown pair and these went on first over his y-fronts. The tights were followed by a floral yellow dress that covered his legs down to his ankles.
He studied himself in the full length mirror. “How did you wear this awful attire Mother? I look ridiculous!” he trumpeted. Putting on a white blouse, he fastened the buttons, and as he donned a neck scarf he realised he hadn’t shaved! That might have taken some explaining at the post office he thought glumly as he ran the hot water.
Having whisked off the whiskers, he removed the blouse, now spotted with shaving foam, and put on a clean one. The outfit was completed with a cream woollen cardigan, some lipstick was clumsily applied, and then all that was left were the shoes. The shoes caused him the most trouble. He was trying a new pair today as each of the previous four occasions had cut his feet to shreds. His mother’s feet were one size smaller than his and he was running out of shoes to try, resigned to the fact that he’d have to purchase a new pair before he gave himself permanent bunions. The thought lowered his mood another notch.
And so once again, dressed as his mother, feeling as self conscious as one can in one’s own home, Colin drank another cup of tea and accompanied it with a large buttered scone. Then with dread mounting, he put on his mother’s large winter coat, woolly hat and gloves, picked up her favourite handbag and headed for the door. Checking that the benefits book was in the handbag, and that he had money in her purse, he put on her glasses and stepped outside into a glorious June day.
By the time he’d walked to the bus stop he was sweating and breathless. “Lovely day” cheeped the driver merrily as Colin showed his mother’s pass and shuffled to the first available seat. “Very funny mister bus driver” Colin thought to himself miserably. He longed to be able to provide an explanation for his winter ensemble but he wasn’t confident of raising his voice enough octaves to convince. He’d get the insolent bus driver back another time. Colin kept speech to an absolute minimum when out like this and only spoke if he absolutely had to.
It was surprising how little he could get away with speaking whilst he was his mother. He could make the entire trip without having to utter a word. At the post office he just handed over his mother’s book and they handed him money. A nod and his best old lady smile were all he needed to complete the transaction. His major fear was meeting a friend of his mother, but he was finding he needn’t worry. On a couple of occasions he was sure he’d passed an old friend of hers; he kept his head down and shuffled past dreading the “hello Margaret”. But no hello came. It seemed that although he wore her clothes, he didn’t actually look much like her. The resemblance was enough to convince dumb cashiers at the post office, but did not arouse suspicion in those that had known his mother well. It was an unexpected bonus and obvious when he thought about it; her friends simply would not expect to pass her in the street having attended her funeral only a month earlier.
He sat sweltering as the bus crawled on, making a mental shopping list to pass the time. Bacon, sausages and eggs were top of a substantial catalogue. So wrapped up in these thoughts was he that he almost missed his stop and had to alight the bus in a much more conspicuous manner than he’d have preferred. As the bus pulled away with a jolly wave from the driver, he composed himself before making his way to the post office.
Every Thursday he prayed for no queue and every Thursday his heart sank as he saw the snaking line of people. Joining the back he kept his head down and looked at nobody. After an eternity of listening to people renewing their car tax or posting half the world’s mail, it was finally his turn. Shuffling up to the counter he smiled weakly and handed over his mother’s benefits book. The cashier was a sour looking woman of no discernable age.
Actually the woman was forty years old and her sour look was the product of working in a town centre post office for half her working life. She’d always imagined herself in a more glamorous job but time was running out and bills don’t pay themselves. This realisation had a direct impact on her smile. If she’d yawned you wouldn’t have been surprised to see a lemon sitting on her tongue. It was the eyes of this sour face that now studied the old woman in front of her.
The cashier’s suspicions had taken seed a couple of weeks previous, they had taken root last week when she served the old woman again, and now, looking again with purpose, they were blossoming into a fully blooming theory. She had already alerted her supervisor, who had escalated it to his manager, and today’s plan was put in place should the old lady return as expected. The old lady had returned as expected and the cashier’s dour eyes were widening at the sight before her.
It was obvious when you looked properly. The makeup appeared as though it had been applied by a child and she could see stubble rash covering the “woman’s” considerable jowls. The cashier held her stare for an uncomfortably long period making sure that she was sure. She was convinced her intuition was correct and if it proved to be so the result would do no harm at all to her career prospects. She may escape the drudgery of the counter yet.
After a short eternity she broke her stare, raised the alarm, and everybody sprang into action. The post office manager came forward quickly from his position near the door, flanked by a security guard and a suited man carrying a file. They were followed by a couple of uniformed police officers who had been waiting stealthily outside.
It took a few seconds for Colin to fully realise what was happening and he was still looking at the cashier as the manager called his name. “Colin Crapper? I am the manager of this post office and I would like to introduce Detective Jennings of the Greater Manchester Fraud Squad. He has one or two things he would like to discuss with you”.
Colin turned slowly and focused on the pencil thin man before him virtually drowning in a dark blue suit. “Can I help you?” Colin enquired in what he thought was a casual but authoritative manner.
The sight before Jennings was indeed a sight; it would have been comical were the issue not so serious, and if Jennings had a sense of humour. “Mr Crapper I have to reason to believe that for the last five weeks you have been impersonating your recently deceased mother and claiming benefits in her name”. Colin simply stared, astonished at this stick of a man with the nerve to publically dispense such slander. “I’d like you to accompany us to the police station to answer some questions and help us understand why your deceased mother is still claiming benefits” Jennings continued.
Colin’s face flushed red, not with embarrassment but acute anger. “Who are you to address me in such a manner? Your accusations are preposterous”. The entire post office was now looking Colin’s way, aware of the police presence and the growing decibel level of Colin Crapper’s voice. A voice that was now very much the voice of a man.
Colin eyeballed each official in turn, fixing them with a defiant glare. He tipped his chin upwards, held his arms firmly to his side, and declared loudly “I held my mother when she was dying and breathed in her last breath, so I am my mother”.
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Posted on January 29th, 2010
A new v1.0 product release from Steve Jobs is like William Tell’s trusty arrow, splitting the Apple right down the middle into two halves. Initial opinion is always divided and usually centered around loyalty. Let’s take a look at the reaction to this truly momentous occasion in human iHistory and try to round up some of the opinion in a nice balanced way…
In the white corner are the dewy eyed iPostles, staring open jawed as Lord Jobs preaches from the Altar Of Style (this time a comfy chair, presumably with soft cushions to poke the heretics when the iNquisition begins). Whooping and hollering uncontrollably, whilst continually adjusting their incontinence trousers, these disciples would act the same way if Jobs had unveiled a new type of mop that can fold into your back pocket. The most beautiful mop the world has ever seen. Somebody actually wolf whistled when Jobs pulled the iPad out from his comfy seat.
Firmly in the white corner is a certain Mr Stephen Fry and you can read his reaction.
In the black corner is, well, everybody else. Sensible, functional people. The “Window Washers”. Not invited to this shindig and likely to be washing the windows that day anyway thanks.
It’s not for me to argue for either side. I haven’t seen an iPad yet and can’t comment until I’ve used one. I don’t have an iPhone or a Mac. I do have an iPod but then I’d be a bit weird if I didn’t. I mean who listens to music on the go and doesn’t use an iPod these days? Pffhhh. Losers. With the competitiveness of the mobile phone market, I’m not sure the iPhone will match the domination of the iPod. I think the iPad will be less successful again. It will fill more of a niche.
I do struggle with the name though. iPad sounds like a ladies “comforting” product to me. Will v2.0 have wings? Having said that I haven’t come up with a better one yet. Not one that begins with ‘i’ anyway. Although I have invented an intelligent fridge freezer that I’ve name iSage. Your foodstuffs are automatically kept stocked up with a direct link to iGrocer, where apples are really cheap but oranges are a bit pricey.
Anyway, I watched the grand unveiling video and was hugely unwowed by the features that Jobs listed – it’s got internet, email, calendar, contacts, photos, Google Maps, Music (iTunes), YouTube, Movies. You can change the background image. Erm, ok good.
A large part of the demo was just watching a guy do all the things we’ve been able to do for years – surfing the web, checking email, browsing photos, playing Dylan. It’s the way he did it that’s impressive. Viewing photos in origami mode seemingly made many in attendance thankful they were wearing plastic pants, and it’s not everyday that sushi receives a round of applause.
It doesn’t have a camera or DVD player, there are no USB ports or card slots, it doesn’t support Flash, peripheral integration is clumsy, and you can’t multi-task. But guess what? All these negatives will be sorted in the next couple of releases. They always are.
That’s for later so for now it’s main selling point is the usability and experience. In Jobs’s words it is “more intimate than a laptop and more capable than a smart phone”. He says it’s the “best browsing experience you’ve ever had – like holding the internet in your hands”. The “gorgeous” keyboard “is a dream to type on”. This is what will sell v1.0 to the Apple iColytes. I hope it’s drool-proof as well or the Apple returns department may be in for some overtime.
As Lord Jobs sat there, cross-legged, stroking and pinching his iBaby before a now silent, and presumably hypnotised, throng, it was very apparent how nice it is to use. But then that’s no surprise either, it’s what we expect. I will be interested to see how reading a book is. I’m still undecided about the eBook movement. Will they really replace good old-fashioned books? This could be key to the success of the iPad and may already signal the death knell for the Kindle.
Ultimately, I reckon the iPad will sell. I reckon it will be the catalyst for a netbook/eReader revolution in much the same way as the iPhone was. Those who worship at Jobs’s Altar of Style will have ordered one before they knew it existed. The Window Washers will wait until it’s got a camera. Both sides are right because they each have different needs. I’m somewhere in the middle – neither white nor black. Grey I suppose. I want an iPad but I want to multi task on it.
My iSP will now let me have an iPhone and my contract is soon up for renewal. So I will begin my rebirth with one of those and hope that by the time I’ve accepted it there is a v2.0 of the iPad that will allow me to surf the net and play music whilst it washes my socks for me.
Interesting footnote: as I was writing this I did a quick check to see what was trending on Twitter. #iPad was of course. Amusingly #Lord and #Jobs were as well.
Tags: Apple, iPad, iPhone, iPod, Steve Jobs, Windows
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Posted on January 28th, 2010
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Posted on January 27th, 2010
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Posted on January 26th, 2010
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Posted on January 25th, 2010
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Posted on January 24th, 2010
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