Bitch on the Blog

July 8, 2011


Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 07:21

Sweethearts, I know it’s Friday and you are beavering away at putting the finishing touches to today’s special.

(If anyone can explain to me why everything I say within the CONsortium’s vicinity often sounds slightly off, not as intended, I’d be grateful).

Yes, finishing touches. Let’s hope Magpie will put up a morsel of sparkle. Wonder what today’s subject will be. Maybe “Change”. No, not the one they give you in the shop. ‘Change’ as in colour. Am besides myself. Which is probably better than being within. What on earth has happened to Con’s blog? One moment it was stylish to the hilt. Now its (visual) layout as bland as porridge. I know we live in minimalistic times but I liked Conrad’s how it was. What’s happened at LeVinTel is just so not HIM. Never mind. We all go through a blank phase. No more so than beloved GG (gay guy). He too has caught that “let’s shrink into the background” mode. Guys, let me tell you: In the animal world you are peacocks, not violets. Think feathers. Think fan. Even a lizzard on a white washed wall somewhere in the South of Spain will make more impact than some of you currently do.

On the plus side, I wouldn’t put it past Magpie to pull off that trick: Invisible ink. To irk us. It’s what the best teachers do. Irk. Go up in a puff of smoke. Want jaw lock (euphemism for ‘boredom’) ? Go top floor: Physics on the left, Chemistry on the right. You will be bored. Then woken with a Bunsen Burner bang. Or – if in chemistry – a smell so bad you wish you were in eggland – use by date ca 2007.

It’s terrible when all hope rests on one pair of shoulders, Magpie. Think global. Atlas. The Schwarzenegger of olden times. Still, as all of you, like a  newspaper (not least that ghastly shortly defunct publication), need to remember: You are nothing without those forking out for the print, ie the reade; nothing without your commentators. So: Give it some colour. Think summer. Think passion. Think sunshine. Think life. Don’t think too hard, though. It tends to come over as contrived.

Hugs, kisses, and it’s only 0800 GMT. Good luck.




  1. I can’t believe you don’t like Physics and Chemistry. *shaking head*

    Comment by Looney — July 9, 2011 @ 21:29 | Reply

    • Looney, it’s not so much that I don’t LIKE physics or chemistry. After all, we can barely move out of bed in the morning without acknowledging laws of physics. And that’s before you have spared a thought for Newton or devoured an apple. Neither can you do any cooking without chemistry proving to you what will definitely NOT work. I love the elements table (particularly PB – plumbum) it’s just that, for some reason, both those subjects and I never gelled. Water and oil – get it? I personally blame my teachers. They didn’t manage to ignite our interest. Admittedly there were three guys in my year who were terrific in all things science. They were also extremely bland – as people. Not that I am saying that there is any causality between being Einstein and being colourless.

      Another mistake the school made (we are talking 17/18 year olds) that, just like our geograhy lessons, physics and chemistry were always scheduled at the end of the school day (our day ran 0750 to 1300). By 1130 you had it. Double lesson. Enter a boring specimen of a teacher, no fresh air in the lab and you are comatose. My father – who is not a teacher but one of those irritatingly well educated Renaissance men – had rather idiosyncratic ways of teaching me various laws of physics; not least that of “leverage” (der laengere Hebel), amiably demonstrated to me when he whacked (gently) my unsuspecting 12 year old self on the cheek. I personally prefer to learn from books but have to hand it to him that he did bring across rather more effectively that which some of my teachers failed to do.

      My true trouble was that my Maths teacher and my Chemistry teacher were one and the same person. The guy loathed me. Even my headmistress acknowledged that fact (four years on). Imagine a fourteen year old (that’s me) transplanted from the North of Germany to the South (middle of the school year), different curriculum, even the school year – in those days – ran different seasons. So, my father – no doubt by some other law of physics – delivers me to this school; say 10 in the morning; shoved into a class already running. Scant introductions. Class dead chuffed by interuption. Everone at least a year older than me. I don’t know if you know Rumpelstilskin but that was Herr K. Small in stature, incandescent by nature. He took one look at my bewildered self with, say, 26 other pairs of eyes looking at me – and I knew I’d made an enemy for life (he is dead now – so I won’t say much more). Thus characters are formed. Mine that is. His [character] was fully formed already. In his Chemistry lessons he was a laugh, in Maths he was a monster: One of his favourite lines addressed at whoever was in his line of disgust: “Why don’t you just become a busdriver instead of wasting my time?” Indeed. If buses weren’t so big and full of people I myself might have considered it as an option.

      Mind you, in all fairness: The guy had a sense of humour, unrecognized at the time. I haven’t kept many of my school note books (homework, tests etc) but did keep some of my Higher Maths, heading to A Level, notes just to remind myself that I was once able to get my head around trigonometry, Vectors and other instruments of torture. Yes, really. Can’t believe it either. Looked at those notebooks recently. Who’d have thought that that vile little man could ever make me laugh? 30 + years on? Some of his (red ink) comments addressing my miserable reasoning and the complete and utter rubbish I delivered as a solution to mathematical problems he put to us are hilarious.

      Most satisfying that I got my own back: The poor man once choked on some noodle salad I had made for a school function. He loved my concoction. Second helpings and all. Then some kind soul told him who he had to thank for the culinary delight.

      Yes, Herr K…… Those were the times. Wonder how many of your pupils went on to become busdrivers.

      Thanks for that refreshing trip down memory lane, Looney.


      PS So very glad that, despite your lowly aspirations, you are still able “to shake your head”

      Comment by Ursula — July 10, 2011 @ 16:17 | Reply

  2. I am surprised my teasing remark stirred up so much!

    My parents moved me during middle school from the south – East Tennessee – to the north – Pittsburg. The new school was much harder than the old. The old school had easy going southern kids, but the new was a mix of rough kids from the workers of the steel mills and Jewish kids of engineers. It was not a good fit.

    Dads putting their kids into awkward situations is something I can well relate to.

    Comment by Looney — July 10, 2011 @ 15:57 | Reply

    • It’s good to be stirred, Looney. This minute I am shaken. Just shouted at my son who only came in to say that he was briefly going out that I CANNOT stand people, in this case BLOODY WORDPRESS, what to do or, worse, what NOT to do. The Angel is used to my ways and congratulated me that if getting my comment to you back into area of visibility on my blog is my ONLY problem (which it isn’t) I should count myself lucky.

      It is so bloody annoying. I want to “paste” my anwer to you back into comment box and they tell me “you’ve said this already”. So? For all I know I might to wish to shout it from the roof tops in all four directions. Who are those buggers to tell me what I have or not have said already? The older you get the more you repeat yourself anyway. As was kindly pointed out to me yesterday. Try and tell that to my mother.


      Comment by Ursula — July 10, 2011 @ 16:06 | Reply

      • Looney, since we all need someone to pour our empty souls out to: I had a brain storm. Let’s talk physics. The sublime and the ridiculous. In order, for wordpress to reinstall my original comment, I decided to take out ONE full stop of Herr K. ONE fullstop. What do you know? Back in business.

        Simmering. Now off to kitchen – employing all the Italian gelling I can muster.


        Comment by Ursula — July 10, 2011 @ 16:21 | Reply

  3. The style flew out the window with a WordPress upgrade. Then I got tired of screwing around with it. It’s the ideas, the people and the conversations I’m more interested in anyway.

    Comment by Conrad — July 12, 2011 @ 18:09 | Reply

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