The burning question - a short film for fidgetty Phyllis (such a girl, what would we do without her?)

Something to keep you amused while you are waiting.



(And in today's Italy v England Six Nations international, the Italians are tackling well, though losing badly. They almost just scored now. And since writing that, they just have. All four of England's tries came from Italians mistakes, and England are hopeless. I look forward to Italy, who play well and with passion, finally winning a few games. By the way, since when was Gary Mclean an Italian name. It is now.)

Something for the weekend, sir?

Well, you wanted something a little more lighthearted, so how about this? Remember I was telling you about seaside postcards and all that? I love them, and have quite a few which I dig out every so often. They sum people up better than almost anything I know, and to keep my reader happy, they are not even cynical, just saucy.

But what's wrong with a bit of sauce between friends, I ask you. Nothing. The song is a very early Kinks song. If you like it, try Beautiful Delila and one of my favourites, Long Tall Shorty.
(Shame you can't read the captions so well at this size and for those who appreciate something bigger - so to speak - go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYQg2ppa-R4 where you will surely be more satisfied.)

A few more words of explanation...

The email given at the top of this blog refers to an 'another287' rather than 'pfgpowell'. That is the last remnant of the original plan to launch a anonymous blog. At school when the names of teams were posted, if the 12th man (in a game of cricket) or the sub in a game of rugby had not yet been decided, he was listed as A.N.Other - 'another'. Geddit?
So here 'another' was due to stand for 'everyman'. However, what with 9 billion people in the world, of which apparently 8 billion are now Google subscribers, the email 'another@gmail.com' was taken. So I have resorted to 'another287' as my name. The '287' was my number at school I would change it back to pfgpowell for this blog, but unfortunately Google's system won't let me in as far as although that account has now been deleted, the name 'pfgpowell' is now 'unavailable'. Just thought I would clear that up for those who dislike loose ends.
Coming up: why Sweet Peas aren't 'peas' at all, and who put the hole in doughbuts. Be back right after this word from my sponsor. (Cue cheesy ad music.)

PS For the sentimentalists...

I have decided on a new (and as they say in PR handouts for new washing powders) 'exciting' photo to grace this blog. But just so you don't feel left out, here is the piccy which graced the old one, taken in my garden last spring and, although I am sitting in the kitchen, not 20ft from where I am now.

And as I have just discovered that I can stick quote marks around, well, quotes, here are two of my favourites:

Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody's face but their own; which is the chief reason for that kind of reception it meets in the world, and that so very few are offended with it.

That is by Jonathan Swift. This is by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who responded to an attack on her by Alexander Pope (all 4ft of him):

Satire should, like a polish'd Razor keen, Wound with a Touch, that's scarcely felt or seen.

The verse goes on, the important bit to put Pope (all 4ft of him in his place)

Thine is an Oyster-Knife, that hacks and hews; The Rage, but not the Talent of Abuse.

Late-night cock-up compounded by ever more desperate attempts to remedy situation creates even bigger cock-up

The title says it all, really, so is there any need to go into the trivia. Well, of course there isn't, so here you will get chapter and verse.

So far I have one reader, or rather I am only aware of having one reader (by name of Kate). A day or two ago, in the course of a discussion it seemed to me that she, an American, regarded me, a Brit, as one of those 'buttoned-up limeys' who feature so heavily in Hollywood imagination (or what passes for imagination in Hollywood).

Naturally, I think that is cobblers, though I shall admit to being a little more private and reserved than some you might come across in the drunken queue for a Friday night kebab (known throughout Britain as the most reliable source of high-grade e-colu anywhere).

Then the thought struck me that it might be worthwhile to start a second, utterly anonymous blog in which I could record and reveal absolutely anything I wanted to record and reveal. So I set about doing so, only to find that once it had been set up, with an anonymous 'googlemail' email address and all, that it was intricately linked to my first blog, which rather blew the concept of anonymity right out of the water - my profile for the anonymous blog was identical to the profile for the 'pfgpowell' blog.

So, dear reader, this will have to serve as Part II of my personal blog and I shall resurrect the idea of an anonymous blog along the lines I had conceived if I can be arsed after all this pfaffing around, which, you might have gathered, is by no means certain.

Happy Easter.