Fashion

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buying, economics, fashion, haute couture, life, musings, rants, shopping, thoughts

Fashion: I don’t understand it. From every angle, it just seems so dumb.

To follow a trend set by others seems ovine. I’m told there is sufficient latitude within any trend for individuality; for each to demonstrate their interpretation. I can see that but surely, there is even more latitude for individuality without the trend? What purpose does the trend fulfil?

New is better than old. Is it? OK, it could be there is some design improvement offered; some solution to a problem, not previously thought of but that seems rare. More often I see the same styles regurgitated on an erratic cycle “this year, the nineteen-twenties look is in”. If retro is in, then someone thinks old is better than new.

Does fashion help snobs and bitches? Does being “in” help me to sneer and criticise those who are “out”? How often have we heard “that’s soooo last year”? Is this really the sort of behaviour we want to encourage?

I own a garment that fits me well, is in a good state of repair, is comfortable, I like. But it’s not a la mode. Should I wear it or not? To me, it’s a no-brainer; others differ. I wish I could tell you all that I’m immune to the peer pressure but that would not be strictly accurate.

Fashion is an art-form.  Haute couture may be; buying the latest trends off a high street rack is not; buying a pink laptop is not.

Fashion is slowly but surely creeping into so many consumer goods. It’s held sway in clothing, shoes, music and décor for centuries; more recently cars, but now phones, computers, gadgets, toothbrushes. The economic advantages for manufacturers, to persuade you that your goods need replacing, even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with them, are clear. Will you fall for it?

Most Vile

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economics, life, musings, politics, rants, thoughts, tories

“Former cabinet minister Liam Fox is to use a speech to call on the government to freeze the level of public spending for five years and spend the money saved on cutting taxes. 

Mr Fox will urge an end to the ring-fencing of budgets for the NHS, schools and international development and as well as of universal benefits such as the pensioners’ winter fuel allowance.” (BBC News)

Or, to put it another way, he plans to take money from the poor, the sick, the children and give it to the rich.  Why would anyone ever consider voting Tory?

Check-out Blues

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checkout, life, musings, rants, shopping, supermarket, systems, technology, thoughts

There is little point in ranting and cursing at an inanimate object. The self check-out systems at ASDA have me so frustrated. Bar-code scanners seem to work when the mood takes them. The weighing function linked to inane and utterly useless recorded instruction is patronising and irritating. To tell me I have more weight of goods in my bag than I’ve scanned makes sense; to tell me I have less, does not, particularly as it has a manual override anyway.
I always seem to be too fast for the system at every juncture, which means I’m constantly being prompted to do things I’ve already done.
ASDA will tell me that the whole exercise is intended to save my time. I don’t believe this is true. A more likely explanation is that it reduces their headcount and wage bill.
I use supermarkets because I like their low prices, so I should accept the measures they use to drive their costs down. Well, maybe, but check-out personnel still have to eat: don’t I just pay by another means?
I really like the design of the carrier-bag dispenser with the hold open function, though. I think that’s a fine piece of design.

Poverty Cooking

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children, economics, life, malnutrition, musings, poverty, rants, thoughts

A saw an item in on a news magazine last night that made me wonder. They were discussing the resurgence of malnutrition as a problem in the North of England. One interviewee, a single mother of two, told how she sometimes went without food herself, in order to guarantee that her children were fed. I salute her dedication. But then she showed the meal she was making for them: chicken nuggets, tinned mushy peas, and frozen chips. Chicken breast, dried marrowfat peas and potatoes are significantly cheaper than the ingredients she chose (and probably healthier too). I’m guessing the reason behind her choice is that she can’t cook.
It is an absolute disgrace that folk should suffer such poverty in a country as rich as the U.K. I fully support the interviewee’s right to demand better.
There’s an old saw that says if you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day; if you give a man a fishing rod, he will eat for evermore. I wonder whether a few cooking lessons might ease the situation?

Bigotry

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bias, humour, joke, life, musings, rants, thought processes, thoughts

A most under-rated labour-saving device:

1.  Wastes no time finding the facts.

2.  Avoids wasted effort checking other points of view.

3.  Ducks all those tedious arguments.

4.  Ignores distractions from respect for the feelings or sensibilities of others.

5.  Allows the user single-minded focus on selfish exploit.

Page Three

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comic, glamour, Labour, lies, life, musings, news, porn, rants, thoughts

Rupert Murdoch has hinted that the Sun may shed its infamous page three model feature. I’m not averse to a bit of soft porn but siting it in (what purports to be) a newspaper has always seemed wrong. I’m cynical enough to believe there is vested interest beyond readership figures and into distraction from the real news (or who’s stealing your birth-right today?) The Sun has long been a thorn in the side of the Labour Movement. I recall Ray Buckton (ASLEF) saying he wouldn’t wrap his chips in it. There was a campaign to reclassify it as a comic.
I hope the lack of naked breast won’t allow the Sun to gain respectability. Murdoch is making no promises about shedding rabid reactionary lies.

Bloody-minded

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behaviour, dinosaur, life, musings, psychology, rants, stubborn, thought processes, thoughts, work

I’d say I have a optimistic outlook at work and on life generally. My job title is Six Sigma Black Belt, which sounds exotic, but actually just means that I spend my time trying to find ways to improve the business. Most folk I work with recognise this and I get a positive response from them.

There are few objections to business improvement that I haven’t heard before. “We don’t have time”, “we’ve always done it this way”, “that’s the way we were told to do it”, “that’s what it says in the book”, “it’s not us you need to worry about; it’s those plonkers in buying/shipping/stores/engineering/sales/contracts/IT/HR/packing/accounts/

quality/production/logistics” (delete any that don’t apply). Because I’m seen as a neutral, i.e. not aligned to any of the warring departments, I can usually get people to work together to find a solution. Occasionally, however, I have a run-in with a dinosaur.

Fortunately, dinosaurs are few and far between. I don’t like to give them too much attention. I find that, if the rest of the team are all working to realise an improvement, dinosaur can very quickly find him/herself isolated. Dinosaur then has few options: either change attitude and join in or lose any relevance. Dinosaurs are often attention seekers, so isolation is anathema to them.

This week, I found a dinosaur so stubborn and disruptive, that his attitudes are not only undermining my efforts, but actually starting to rub off on me. I find myself thinking “we’ll do it his way, even though I know it’s wrong, and when it all goes to rat shit, I will be vindicated”. This is not a good place for me to go. If the process fails, or does not improve, inevitably folk will look in askance to me; even if I am not the prime mover of the failure. Bloody-minded is not a suitable attitude for a black belt. I’ve got to find a better way to smother my dinosaur.

Horsemeat

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food, horsemeat, life, microwave food, musings, rants, scandal, shopping, thoughts

“Every cloud has a silver lining” says the rather optimistic saw. Maybe there will be some good to come from the horsemeat scandal(s). Maybe, just maybe, people will want to steer clear of pre-processed microwave food and support their local butchers. We can but hope.
I am happy to be blessed with an excellent butcher (Bellamy’s) less than a mile from my home. Use it or lose it!

Feminism

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feminist, happiness, life, murder, musings, rants, rape, relationships, respect, sex, sex 2, society, thoughts, women

There has been a lot of discussion of feminist issues on various social media, following the brutal rape and murder of Nirbhaya. Most of the outcry is emotional, necessary and laudable.  Predictably, there is a small minority seeking to blame the victims for the problem: skirts too short, drinking alcohol, not chaperoned, &c.  Thankfully, the vermin spouting these lies are relatively rare (albeit not quite rare enough).

What I also detect is a worrying undercurrent that seems to suggest that feminist ideas and ideals are pro-woman but anti-man.  I believe this is fundamentally flawed.  I am proud to declare that I am a feminist.  I absolutely believe that equality of opportunity is in the best interests of both sexes.

In my experience, women who are respected, supported and feel safe, are more likely to be happy.  Women who are happy, keep men happy.  I don’t know of any other way that works.

So, it follows, that feminism is in the best interests of even the most selfish man, and all the rest of us too.

Smile

Tags

life, musings, rants, thoughts, writing

My submission to The Inkwell’s monthly half-hour challenge, on January’s theme “Bells”:

A smile or a grimace? Ted Jones isn’t renown for his happy disposition, yet he seems pleased to see us. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Ted?” I think, though I don’t dare say it. The last three times Claire and I came to the warehouse to deliver training, Ted had been conspicuous only by his growl and then his absence.
“Oh, it’s you pair of plonkers again, is it? Well, you’d better set up in the meeting room like last time and stay out of my way. Some of us have got work to do.” Ted’s disposition hasn’t changed to match his new-found demeanour.
“You’re supposed to be managing this warehouse Ted. I’d like to know what work you consider to be more important than improving it.”
“We’ve got spares orders to pick, pack and ship. I’m bloody certain our customers prefer my lads doing that than sitting in your training sessions.”
“Your lads sent three parcels to the wrong place last month. What do those customers think about your attitude to training, I wonder?”
“Yeah, well the only folk who don’t make mistakes are the ones who do nowt. I’ll bet you don’t make many.”
“So do you think we should carry on as we are or should we try to improve?”
“I haven’t time for this. Deliver your training!” and he spins on his heel and marches out the door.
Claire rolls her eyes at me “Same old Ted” and unpacks the projector.

We don’t see Ted again until just before lunch. He struts past the training room looking very strange: unhappy, angry even, yet his mouth is twisted into a frozen smile. I can’t help but think that this facial aberration is for my benefit.

Mid-afternoon we hear a disturbance from down the corridor but think little of it. After our coffee break, Arthur comes back from the loo and tells us Ted has been rushed off to hospital in an ambulance.
“They say his grin got bigger and bigger, then he just flaked out at his desk” says Arthur in wide-eyed amazement “I’ve never heard the like.”
“I have” offers Kathy “my granny had the same. Her whole face went numb and contorted into a horrible grin. She looked like something in a horror movie. Turned out she had cancer in her saliva glands. It was bloody horrible till they sorted her out. Poor Ted: hope he’s alright. Bell’s Palsy they call it.”