Survival in a Pandemic

The prospect of a Viral Pandemic causes us to behave in a number of strange ways.

Hearken Ye back to the 14th Century and the Black Death which saw off around 60% of the then European population. Those intent on protecting their accumulated assets wrapped up bits of gold, coins and jewels in a sheet of lead and lobbed it into the marsh or a nearby stream. This, at the time will have seemed to satisfy for the purpose of retrieval if they were blessed and survived or simply to deny anyone else of their wealth benefits.

Others sneaked out and dug a hole so that future exponents of the Metal Detector could combine the sporting of paramilitary outdoor attire and treasure hunting.

In the 17th Century Plague a few souls isolated themselves, their loved ones and whole communities relying on supplies to be left at the Parish Boundary.

So, fast forward to the current Coronavirus and the human trait of self preservation has seen the equivalent modern phenomena of the panic buying of Pot Noodles.

Yes, that little tub of instant (subject to following the instructions on the label) gratification and questionable sustenance so beloved by students, singles, men whose wives or partners have gone on a trip and office workers who forgot or did not have time to prepare a packed lunch.

The Pot Noodle deserves a place in history for its role in the lives of those who have progressed to positions of responsibility and authority after experiencing what at the time seemed bleak and desperate but in retrospect and clouded in nostalgia were the best days of their lives.

In some families the Pot Noodle is a must have in the grocery cupboard.

Personally I feel that they should be kept in one of those glass fronted cabinets with a small toffee hammer on a chain and with strict instructions for use only in an emergency.

My younger brother reminded me of a story about one of his friends who, having been instilled with a suspicion and fear of foreign foods, left for a holiday in Spain with one Pot Noodle tub for every day of the fortnight vacation. Unfortunately he did succumb to a dodgy tummy which can only be attributable to an overdose of re-hydrated material given that he was methodical in making sure that the local water reached and sustained boiling point before being poured in.

He did persist in his dietary regime and with the unexpected spin off that by the second week he was able to build the most stupendous castles in the sand of the resort beach- much to the amusement and astonishment of other Nationalities who were there for rest and relaxation only.

Media coverage of the arrival of the Coronavirus in the UK has featured empty shelves in supermarkets in the aisles where hand sanitisers, disinfectant, disposable gloves and other cleansing items are usually found. Other stockpile favourites include Pasta, tinned goods such as pulses and fruits, frozen foods and other staples.

For those facing the prospect of self isolation the Pot Noodle does tick a good number of the boxes.

In a single serving there are 384 calories which according to health statistics will give you enough energy to do a session of aerobics or other single session house based activities of yoga, domestic chores and if you are feeling at all fit and healthy how about a bit of Salsa dancing?.

The fork delivered meal in a pot can provide, in some of the flavours around 10 grams of protein, 54 grams of carbohydrate, a small 3.3 grams of fibre and 14.1 grams of fat.

Those fully intent on Pot Noodle reliance in any escalation of the Coronavirus must, I stress, seek professional advice on their individual daily calorific intake requirements and be fully prepared to take a varied food intake so as to meet the minimum 5 a day as well as supplements.

Otherwise my master-plan to ride out the Pandemic should it be imperative to self isolate is not altogether a scary prospect.

I can imagine being wrapped up in a duvet on the sofa watching endless Netflix Box Sets and with an electrical extension cable and hosepipe run through from the nearest socket and tap respectively to the kettle. Next to me will be a large, perfectly stacked pyramid display of a good selection of Pot Noodle flavours.

Molestrangler and Huckaback

Another radio broadcast treat today with an airing of Series 3, Episode 14 from 1967 of the  BBC production of Round the Horne featuring its main participants, Kenneth Horne, Betty Marsden, Hugh Paddick, Kenneth Williams and Bill Pertwee.

The script by Barry Took and Marty Feldman is a work of comic genius with superb dialogue, rich and deep characters and of course expert delivery by the very talented performers.

Amongst the regulars are Dame Celia Molestrangler (played by Betty Marsden) and the ageing juvenile Binky Huckaback (Hugh Paddick).

Their very hammy, plummy tones and over-acting characters appear as the rather vague and intense Fiona and Charles.

Here is a short sketch entitled "Where no Hippos Fly"


Fiona "Oh Charles, Charles. I'm frightened"

Charles " Steady Old Girl. They can smell fear"

F- Are you, are you sorry you brought me out here?"

C- "To the Bush?"

F- "Yes"

C "I know the Bush is no place for a woman but we've been happy here haven't we?"

F "Happy Charles?- Who knows what happiness is? It's giving and taking and having and holding and loving and needing and wanting and feeling"

C- "Yes Fiona. It's all of those things..........and yet ....none of them"

F- "And yet all of them"

C "And yet none of them"

F "AND YET ALL OF THEM"

C "Oh alright................some of them"

F "Charles.  Are we safe here in the Bush?"

C "Quite safe"

F "But look, look over there. There's another of those creatures"

C "Oh, he's an ugly brute. Look at that snout on him. Those little red eyes. Oh, I think he's seen us"

F "Oh Charles"

C "Don't worry. I'll take care of him. Stand your ground.... I think he's going to charge us.
     Good evening Constable, just leaving the Park. Come along Fiona"

RE: Russia Port

Yes, I know. We joke about it a lot. It is an easy target.

No, there is no evidence that the computer screens in the office flicker, nor our telephone system emit strange sounds but I do get genuinely excited when a Russian Registered Ship comes into sight in the waters of the mighty Humber Estuary on whose bank our workplace stands.

They pass by, either upstream or on the return journey out to the ocean with surprising regularity making their way to the Port of Goole or even down the Trent to the Wharfside Industry sites.

Just the other morning I startled my work colleagues by jumping up and exclaiming "SHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIII.......PPPPPPP!!"

Their initial reaction at my outburst was one of shock or at least until I had reached that fourth letter and even then amongst the buzz of PC's, copier and and unruly fluorescent strip light they could have easily been mistaken in hearing that word as a very rude one.

My mobile phone is always to hand when a vessel comes into line of sight in our large window opening onto the river.

It is a glorious outlook with the Humber Suspension Bridge in the background and the expanse of rather murky water in and around it.

Accessing one or more of the Ship Finding Apps gives an instant feedback on the identity, type, destination and recent destination history of any craft.

Our visitor this time was the Mekhanik Kottsov.

It is amongst the larger types of shipping using the deep water navigation channels of the Humber, a right proper and classic ship shape and profile. Prominent bows, a sweeping line of superstructure in matt black and ox blood red, two deck cranes and a large four storey upper bedecked with a multitude of antennae and satellite arrays.

It is one of those vessels with a concertina folding deck over deep storage holds suitable for many types of general and bulk cargo.

I felt a bit of an impulse to wave but at a distance of a couple of hundred metres and at an offset angle to its plotted course it will have been as futile as that time I saluted the orbiting International Space Station from my back garden.

I did have a flashback to that movie "Empire of The Sun" when the schoolboy character played by Christian Bale uses his torch upon seeing a signalling Japanese Warship in Shanghai Bay. Although of course nothing of his doing the Cruiser opens fire as part of the invasion of that part of the eastern theatre of World War 2.

The exciting thing about spotting a ship is finding out where it is headed.

The Mekhanik Kottsov was en route to Arkhangelsk, way up in the Arctic which would take about a week from its current position.

A busy schedule also showed previous ports of call in Honfleur and Rochefort, France and Frei in Denmark.

As of this very moment it is at coordinates 61.49989 North and 4.35741 East and making 11 knots which is skirting the rocky islands just to the west of Floro in Norway.


The volume of shipping does reduce significantly on the indicative mapping as the Arctic Waters are approached. The run will be very well known to those who served in the Royal Navy Convoys and Merchant Navy ships taking vital supplies to that part of the far North of Russia in wartime.

As I returned to my desk and comfortable office chair in the somewhat overheated but cosy office I shivered slightly at the thought of the Kottsov Crew and their voyage in that icy and hostile environment. I hope they have a good kettle and ample supply of tea bags.

(evidently the homeward journey was a safe one as Mekhanik Kottsov has just passed by my office window again- monday 23rd March en-route for ports up the Humber. I waved but ..........................

Batter Eating Guide

I wrote this in 2013 and what better time than Shrove Tuesday or commonly known as Pancake Day to give it another airing................................enjoy, as they say

Noshtalgia- The term has been around a while but there seems to have been a very recent upsurge in reminiscences of, and even more than that, a hankering for the food of our younger, formative years.

It comes down to a comfort thing.

We feel under siege from recession, the credit crisis, Brexit, Just Eat TV campaigns and an uncertainty about what it is that actually makes up our Supermarket purchases.

I was, in my early years, assured by the media, Tomorrows World, James Burke and the like in particular that my following decades in employment would be characterised by abundant leisure time due to technological advancements and smart working and that other empty promise of a paperless office.

This premonition of the future also included the likelihood of not only one job for life but being able to retire at, what seemed to me then, a ripe old age of 55 years. I could also look forward to a life expectancy much enhanced by developments in health and nutrition and live on a big, fat, inexhaustible pension fund. I did take on board and believe this model for my senior years. It sustained me when I felt sad at work.

Of course, I also looked forward to, but did not fully expect to, live on the Moon and commute to Earth in my own spaceship. I was after all, like many of my generation, expecting to get that Jet Pack we were all promised. The journey to and from work will have been spectacular if you just timed it to avoid rush hour.

Amongst all of this speculation and wish-listing there remains a constant. This is the food that we ate when we were younger and it is this craving for a stable, untarnished and wholesome thing in our current lives that has led to the Noshtalgia movement.

It is a movement.

It may even be subversive and prove to be divisive in society. It may all boil down to those who "home-cook" and those who "take-away". A bit of an Animal Farm or Lord of the Flies definition in a modern context.

This is not a theory to be easily dismissed.

It is a fact , in our current lifestyles and comparative well-offness that, for the first time in a couple of centuries the wealthy people are thin and the poorer of us are fat. This is based on diet mainly. The wealthy can afford to buy fresh and nourishing foods and ironically work off any excess calories at a gym or through a healthy lifestyle generally whilst budgetary constraints on the rest of the population dictate the purchase of cheap, filling, starchy, stodgy and glutinous meals which sit heavy and discourage any energetic activity. Another irony is that a poor diet creates health problems and does not do a lot for our body shapes, self esteem and confidence. This in turn can put a strain on the National Health Service and in our own lives and relationships.

Noshtalgia recalls a time when none of these problems were present in our lives, or perhaps not even consciously known or perceived of as a catalyst to depression and, that hard to describe feeling of 'not being right in myself'' as is often overheard in a conversation.

We are now trying hard to be happy through food.

The viewing ratings for TV cookery and related programmes are very buoyant, similarly the sale of recipe and cook books.

However, there is a knowledge gap and kitchen skills shortage to be made up on our part because a good proportion of us were deprived of Domestic Science in our education as this perceived 'soft' option was expelled in favour of more languages and the sciences.


Between those halcyon childhood days of cooking with our Mothers and now actually having our own kitchens there has been a starvation of practical learning.

Ask yourself these questions.

1) How long to boil an egg for a perfect dipping yolk?
2) What are the ingredients for a perfect pancake batter?
3) How do you make a sponge cake?
4) What is the correct oven setting to roast a chicken?
5) How long do carrots take to cook?

In my age group I would expect a 40% correct answer rate. In the over 50's this would be 75% to full marks. Any age groups below mine- well, big fat zero, zilch, or 'where is the flyer from the High Street Take-away?'

I do not undermine those in the age ranges below me because they show good promise and intention to learn how to cook but have been spoilt by fast food and their own parents, themselves victims of the school curriculum and convenience food.

The current parent groups below 45 years old have been the most to suffer from the snapping of the apron strings in the home kitchen and the demise of Home Economics lessons. They have also had, arguably, a more difficult time in reaching that stable stage in life of home ,hearth, employment and incomes which allows cooking to be more of a pastime than a chore.

Let's just admit it now. School Cookery lessons were not a great technical challenge. My own experiences in the Cookery Room  amounted to monotonous, regular manufacture of rock-hard Rock Cakes, the forerunner of what we know today as a Pizza and most ambitiously a plate of Spaghetti Bolognese. Actual production of gourmet meals was not the intention of structured education in the kitchen. It was intended to make us confident to use a whisk, saucepan, ladle, hob and oven and to handle and fashion basic fare out of staple foods. I also learned that a big angry and noisy dog, behind a garden gate on the way home from cookery, can be placated by a serving of Italian pasta in sauce thrown into its view and play for a few hours with a heavy, speckled lump of part cooked dough based fare that could easily be confused, by said hound, with a pig's trotter.

The learning process is being kick-started by the Noshtalgia movement and that can only be a good thing.

We can begin with a few basic meals.

Roast that chicken, slow-cook a beef or lamb joint, boil a ham, grill a steak, warm up some beans, poach an egg, griddle a piece of fish, steam some vegetables, stir fry any leftovers, barbecue, broil, stew and ambitiously, perhaps once confit in duck fat. Microwave or Boil in the Bag absolutely nothing.

Gradually confidence will grow and from there the world is your oyster (other sea-foods are available- check with your local fishmonger).


We will no longer be afraid of foreign sounding terminology, we will embrace both gas and electric hobs, fan and convector ovens and champion sitting around and eating at a table, talking and enjoying the company of family, friends and strangers. We will feel better in ourselves and more able to cope with the rigours, demands and stresses of modern life.

Ah, Noshtalgia. Things ate what they used to be.

A Nugget of Information

I see that the concerns in recent days over a Global Pandemic of the Coronavirus have served to ramp up demand for and drive up the price of Gold.

This precious metal has such a hold over humankind bringing out the very worst in our behaviour in order to obtain it and yet in the hands of the Philanthropic and Benevolent amongst us it has the power to do so much good.

It's value is of course in its natural scarcity or otherwise a difficulty in its discovery and extraction from Mother Earth.

In a few locations it can be found scattered about and relatively easily gathered.

This was the situation in the Central Valley area of California in the Spring of 1848. The Gold Rush and hysteria surrounding it can be put down to the actions of just one local resident, a Sam Brannan.

After quite an entrepreneurial start to his life as well as prominence in his Mormon faith the enterprising Mr Brannan (1819 -1889) was to be found in that year running a General Store in Sutters Fort, now part of the City of Sacremento.

He had been able to monopolise not only the supply and sale of the essential items of equipment for those seeking to find their fortunes in Gold but had also craftily bought up or optioned large tracts of the land on which prospecting had the best opportunities to find the bright yellow treasure.

Many of the first wave of prospectors who came to dig the soil or pan the rivers only had Brannan as the outlet for picks, shovels, pans and all of the other required paraphenalia not to mention basic goods for sustenance and survival in what could be a harsh and unforgiving environment.

These were not wealthy or privileged individuals but more a collection of those who were desperate and down on their heels who could only graft and hope for that big discovery of a large nugget or untapped seam of gold.

Brannan was quite amenable to being paid for his stock and supplies in flakes or fragments of gold that had been the result of the extreme labour and hardship of others. Slowly and surely he accumulated a nice collection of the stuff and that gave him his most genius idea to date.

In an act of shameless fake news and self publicity Brannan took his pieces of gold to San Francisco and ran through its streets screaming aloud that there was gold to be had in them there hills or using words to that effect.

Where before the prospecting may have been a bit of a minority occupation the actions of Brannan really caught the imagination of the population and before long some 75% of the male population of California had descended on the Central Valley area in a bid to find their fortunes.

Surprise, Surprise Brannan happened to have the only General Store for miles around to cater for the mass rush and he duly cornered the market and fleeced the tens and hundreds of thousands of new prospectors and their families of their hard earned cash.

It was only a matter of months before Brannan assumed the position of one of the first millionaires in the area.

Unfortunately circumstances later on in his life conspired against him and he died in poverty and relative anonymity. His role in the 1848 Gold Rush is however remembered in the naming of streets and institutions on his home patch.

Into the Wilde-ness

It's a good story, a great story of vanity, moral decline, debauchery, sin and final retribution which even some 130 years after its publication contains some very relevant messages and sentiments.

I am referring to The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde.

There has been a good dramatisation of it re-broadcast on the radio this week and I have found myself compelled out of morbid fascination and anxiety to listen to it and absorb the wonderful quotes that Wilde throws into the general dialogue in his usual throwaway manner.

Some are very familiar having been immersed into popular language and culture and others less so although are still very thought provoking and soul searching. Here is a small collection of quotes in no particular order or preference.

Experience is merely the name men give to their mistakes

Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing

The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it

There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about and that is not being talked about

Behind every exquisite thing that existed there was something tragic

Some things are more precious because they don't last long

Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a relationship and it is by far the best ending for one

Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing it is always from the noblest motives

The basis of optimism is sheer terror

All art is quite useless

One can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing

Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face, it cannot be concealed

It is the stupid and the ugly who have the best of it in this world

Women love us for our defects. if we have enough of them they will forgive us everything...

You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know

The soul is a terrible reality. It can be bought and sold and bartered away

Never marry a woman with straw coloured hair because they are so sentimental

I never approve or disapprove of anything now. It is an absurd attitude to take towards life

People die of common sense.

Genius lasts longer than beauty

We live in an age that reads too much to be wise and that thinks too much to be beautiful

It is a sad truth but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things

One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner

Never trust a woman who wears mauve

A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. I have not got one who is a fool.

I like men who have a future and women who have a past

If the caveman had known how to laugh, history would have been different

Young people nowadays imagine that money is everything

English Lesson 13

One of the many daytime BBC digital radio re-runs that I find myself laughing out aloud at is "I'm Sorry I haven't a Clue" which is a very long running improvisational comedy show which over its many decades has featured the very best in comedic and entertainment talent.

A regular feature in the show is the offering by the participants of definitions of words towards the Uxbridge English Dictionary.

For any student of the English Language this must be most confusing as although the donor word is a bona fide one the meaning as described is only intended to elicit laughter or gasps of shock and awe.

Here is a bit of a compilation of definitions either broadcast since its launch in 1972 or just held in a remarkable database produced by Kevin Hale, undoubtedly the greatest fan and authority on the subject.

Amazingly we are up to the 13th letter of the alphabet, "M" which is a very rich source indeed of mirth and entertainment. Again, some may be offended by the following, some of which come from a different era of political and other correctness.

Missive- Afrikaans for very big

Mystery- a bit like a Man

Minsk- a rather camp Russian walk

Mississippi- the wife of Mr Sippi

Muzzletof- an Injunction on a member of the upper classes

Measles- what artists put their canvas on for a self portrait

Miasma- a very personal health complaint

Mastiff- a bit of a to-do during a Church Service

Mish Mash- Sean Connery is late for Church

Maisonette- a very small Chief Constable

Meritritious- followed by "and a Happy New Year"

Moustache- I've really gotta go

Morass- heard from the Director of a Strip-show

Margate- the mother of all scandals

Mytosis- whats on the end of my footsis

Marmite- although Father is always a bit reluctant

Mushrooms- what Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen does

Miniscule- where toddlers go to in Liverpool

Mucus- bad language from cats

Midwifery- half way through breaking wind

Malady- a bit like a male duck

Migraine- a proud farmer out in a field of wheat

Manifold- origami

Maritime- wedding day for a sailor

Martini- a small supermarket

Mosquito- the process of leaving a place after prayers

Melancholy- a rather fat sheep dog

Meander- she and I

Merciful- Liverpool is at risk of flooding

Mendacity- urban renewal

Microfiche- a sardine

Mutate- an art gallery for cows

Marsupial- a favourite family recipe using congers

Morbid- what an auctioneer says when the going is slow

Macadam- the first Scotsman in creation

Motorist- repetitive strain injury for drivers

Mischief- Head Girl

Macaroni- the inventor of the pasta wireless

Merseyside- the killing of a scouser

Mobster- an criminalised crustacean

Mumps- heaps of unwanted mothers

Moreover- a very fat dog

Multiple- too many glasses of wine

Myth- a female moth

Manoevre- an easy to use vacuum cleaner for men

Microbe- a very small clothes cupboard

Mascot- where Catholic babies sleep

Mountaineer- very specialist Taxidermy

Megawatt- asking for clarification of something in a noisy room

Mistake- regretting becoming a Vegan

Malicious- something nasty but tasty