Wednesday, February 6, 2008
The box turned up for the glasses...
So far so good - let's just hope they look ok when they come back...
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Cheap glasses at last?
A couple of weeks ago, the lenses of my glasses cracked, and as it was 2 years since I had my eyes checked last, Rachel (my 9 year old) and I traipsed to Dolland and Aitchison in Richmond for a check-up
Inevitably, my prescription had changed, but I needed the lenses changed, so no bother. Except the price. "About £180" I was told, to replace the lenses, as I am wearing half-frame glasses.
The horror, the horror... So I typed something like "glasses lenses" into Google, and got a useful ad (I am a great believer in contextual advertising) for an outfit called Cilary Blue (http://www.ciliaryblue.com). I had a few e-mail exchanges with them about the type of lenses I needed, and despite an extensive range, they directed me towards some towards the bottom end as being suitable.
Thirty four quid!
As I write, I am awaiting the box they send for you to return the glasses in. In a few days, I hope to see whether this latest adventure in bargain hunting on the Net is a success, or whether I have a headache for the next 2 years...
Inevitably, my prescription had changed, but I needed the lenses changed, so no bother. Except the price. "About £180" I was told, to replace the lenses, as I am wearing half-frame glasses.
The horror, the horror... So I typed something like "glasses lenses" into Google, and got a useful ad (I am a great believer in contextual advertising) for an outfit called Cilary Blue (http://www.ciliaryblue.com). I had a few e-mail exchanges with them about the type of lenses I needed, and despite an extensive range, they directed me towards some towards the bottom end as being suitable.
Thirty four quid!
As I write, I am awaiting the box they send for you to return the glasses in. In a few days, I hope to see whether this latest adventure in bargain hunting on the Net is a success, or whether I have a headache for the next 2 years...
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Different corner
I'm not sure why, but I decided to get off the train a stop early today, and walk an extra 10 minutes into work. I used to live in Camden, and so wasn't expecting any surprises.
It turned out to be quite an amazing eye-opener for me. I came down Chalk Farm Road, and past Camden Lock and the Market. It was totally deserted, like 28 Days Later but without the zombies. And what an amazing place it is. What was once a "normal" village high street has been transformed into a static carnival. Almost every shop has colourful painting, and often sculpture of some description stuck on it.
You don't see it when the roads are full, as you're more worried about getting your wallet nicked than you are at looking up.
Go on, try it. Get off a stop or two early. You could have been working where you are for years, and yet know no more about where you are than where to get a sandwich at lunchtime.
It turned out to be quite an amazing eye-opener for me. I came down Chalk Farm Road, and past Camden Lock and the Market. It was totally deserted, like 28 Days Later but without the zombies. And what an amazing place it is. What was once a "normal" village high street has been transformed into a static carnival. Almost every shop has colourful painting, and often sculpture of some description stuck on it.
You don't see it when the roads are full, as you're more worried about getting your wallet nicked than you are at looking up.
Go on, try it. Get off a stop or two early. You could have been working where you are for years, and yet know no more about where you are than where to get a sandwich at lunchtime.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Who looks good in...
Yes, the good-old Ray-Ban Wayfarer. Oh, how I lusted after a real pair of Wayfarers. Could I too look like Tom Cruise? I have a horrible feeling that L. Ron Hubbard had little chips implanted in the real ones, and that is why there was a rush of celebrity Scientologists. Far-fetched? Read some of his books, and then tell me what's far fetched.
Everyone looks good in Wayfarers, and frankly it's time to dump their rather 80's image. So, Lord, don't buy me a Mercedes Benz. Get me a pair of decent sunglasses instead. I too could be a Blues Brother.
Back to the 70's
I make a bloody awful socialist. I voted Tony in, and helped keep him in. And got a Tory.
Now we're faced with the postal workers' strike. I have some sympathy with the workforce, in that they see £1.2 billion coming in from the government, and ask why they can't share in some of that. But the fact is the Post Office is dying. Probably not as badly as the management had to make out to get their lifeline, but still they are seeing their most profitable markets (Business post and bulk mail) being creamed off by the private sector, leaving the taxpayer to pick up the tab on Universal Post.
Personally, I think there are lots of things that are better run by the public sector than the private sector. The railway fiasco is one example. But something as simple as catering is another. Go to the Hillier Gardens near Winchester, or the canteen at Richmond Town Hall. The catering at both is run by the Council, and is reasonably priced, and of excellent quality.
Ask the private sector to serve decent food? They pulled out of the catering contract at my children's school, leaving us with the possibility of sandwiches for the first term of next year.
Under current EU rules, the Post Office had to be opened up to competition, as did the other European Post Offices. And that is going to be a painful process, because there will have to be changes.
Some of those changes will be stupid (Turning half of a load of WHSmiths into Post Offices. Strange decision). But many will be necessary, with new technology and new working practices. It's going to be tough, and the government can't (legally) keep pumping money in.
I agree that the postal workers probably deserve more. But striking is not the way to get it. A whole generation has grown up without significant union and strike activity. Sadly, I'm just old enough to remember the Winter of Discontent. And I lament that passing of whole industries that could otherwise have been saved, like the world-beating motor industry.
E-mail as replaced letters as a primary method of communication. I used to have bundles of letters I had sent to pen friends (what a quaint notion), and if we were lucky, we'd manage a letter a week. Today, it's instant (and not as much fun, I'd say, old git that I am)
All this round of strikes is doing is showing an old-world anachronistic company. Sorry guys, but all these strikes will do is lose more people their jobs more quickly, and move those people who do shuffle things like paper around to look at how they can web-enable the process to speed it up, and not be held to ransom...
Now we're faced with the postal workers' strike. I have some sympathy with the workforce, in that they see £1.2 billion coming in from the government, and ask why they can't share in some of that. But the fact is the Post Office is dying. Probably not as badly as the management had to make out to get their lifeline, but still they are seeing their most profitable markets (Business post and bulk mail) being creamed off by the private sector, leaving the taxpayer to pick up the tab on Universal Post.
Personally, I think there are lots of things that are better run by the public sector than the private sector. The railway fiasco is one example. But something as simple as catering is another. Go to the Hillier Gardens near Winchester, or the canteen at Richmond Town Hall. The catering at both is run by the Council, and is reasonably priced, and of excellent quality.
Ask the private sector to serve decent food? They pulled out of the catering contract at my children's school, leaving us with the possibility of sandwiches for the first term of next year.
Under current EU rules, the Post Office had to be opened up to competition, as did the other European Post Offices. And that is going to be a painful process, because there will have to be changes.
Some of those changes will be stupid (Turning half of a load of WHSmiths into Post Offices. Strange decision). But many will be necessary, with new technology and new working practices. It's going to be tough, and the government can't (legally) keep pumping money in.
I agree that the postal workers probably deserve more. But striking is not the way to get it. A whole generation has grown up without significant union and strike activity. Sadly, I'm just old enough to remember the Winter of Discontent. And I lament that passing of whole industries that could otherwise have been saved, like the world-beating motor industry.
E-mail as replaced letters as a primary method of communication. I used to have bundles of letters I had sent to pen friends (what a quaint notion), and if we were lucky, we'd manage a letter a week. Today, it's instant (and not as much fun, I'd say, old git that I am)
All this round of strikes is doing is showing an old-world anachronistic company. Sorry guys, but all these strikes will do is lose more people their jobs more quickly, and move those people who do shuffle things like paper around to look at how they can web-enable the process to speed it up, and not be held to ransom...
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
I was there (apparently...)
The Swinging Sixties, the Summer of Love, Madchester, Punk. Wow, wouldn't it have been great to have been part of something like that? Just to have been lucky enough to have been in the right place at the right time.
Up until last night, I thought that the limit of my involvement in the bleeding edge of popular culture was walking round Romford in a boating blazer, bowling shoes, and wrap-round sunglasses that made my eyes hurt, all as part of the great Mod revival... Which was a bit stupid in a way as Romford around that time was the genesis of the Casual movement, when jumbo cords, Sergio Tacchini trackies and Pringle jumpers came round the first time, and I was one of three blokes who didn't look like an American golfer.
Anyhow, the point of this is that I was watching the 7th of the 7 Ages of Rock last night (courtesy of the ever wonderful Sky + box), and discovered that Camden was "It" in 94/5, when the Madchester crowd moved down, and BritPop took over. You couldn't, the talking heads said, go anywhere without seeing someone who was on Top of the Pops that week. That's amazing, I thought, I lived in Camden then, went out there most nights, and didn't have children, so I was a full-on, paid-up, Camden socialite. So how did I miss all of this?
And then it hit me. I was too busy going out to watch Top of the Pops to see who these people actually were. Did I bump into Justine Frischmann and spill her pint unwittingly? Did I knock Noel Gallagher's fag from his hand in my rush to the bar? If I did, sorry chaps.
At least when the children say "What did you do in the Great BritPop Wars, Daddy?", I can hold my head up and say "I was there, kids, I was there"
Up until last night, I thought that the limit of my involvement in the bleeding edge of popular culture was walking round Romford in a boating blazer, bowling shoes, and wrap-round sunglasses that made my eyes hurt, all as part of the great Mod revival... Which was a bit stupid in a way as Romford around that time was the genesis of the Casual movement, when jumbo cords, Sergio Tacchini trackies and Pringle jumpers came round the first time, and I was one of three blokes who didn't look like an American golfer.
Anyhow, the point of this is that I was watching the 7th of the 7 Ages of Rock last night (courtesy of the ever wonderful Sky + box), and discovered that Camden was "It" in 94/5, when the Madchester crowd moved down, and BritPop took over. You couldn't, the talking heads said, go anywhere without seeing someone who was on Top of the Pops that week. That's amazing, I thought, I lived in Camden then, went out there most nights, and didn't have children, so I was a full-on, paid-up, Camden socialite. So how did I miss all of this?
And then it hit me. I was too busy going out to watch Top of the Pops to see who these people actually were. Did I bump into Justine Frischmann and spill her pint unwittingly? Did I knock Noel Gallagher's fag from his hand in my rush to the bar? If I did, sorry chaps.
At least when the children say "What did you do in the Great BritPop Wars, Daddy?", I can hold my head up and say "I was there, kids, I was there"
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