It must have been love, but its over now…

Watching Wimbledon today – Williams/Zheng –  I questioned for the first time why tennis has such an odd scoring system.  Google supplied this :-

Tennis Game scoring origins

The origins of the 15, 30, and 40 scores are believed to be medieval French. It is possible that a clock face was used on court, with a quarter move of the hand to indicate a score of 15, 30, and 45. When the hand moved to 60, the game was over. However, in order to ensure that the game could not be won by a one-point difference in players’ scores, the idea of “deuce” was introduced. To make the score stay within the “60” ticks on the clock face, the 45 was changed to 40. Therefore, if both players have 40, the first player to score receives ten and that moves the clock to 50. If the player scores a second time before the opponent is able to score, they are awarded another ten and the clock moves to 60. The 60 signifies the end of the game. However, if a player fails to score twice in a row, then the clock would move back to 40 to establish another “deuce“.

Another theory is that the scoring nomenclature came from the French game jeu de paume (a precursor to tennis which used the hand instead of a racquet). Jeu de paume was very popular before the French revolution, with more than 1,000 courts in Paris alone. The traditional court was 90 ft in total with 45 ft on each side. When the server scored, he moved forward 15 ft. If he scored again, he would move another 15 ft. If he scored a third time, he could only move 10 ft closer.

The origin of the use of “love” for zero is also disputed. It is possible that it derives from the French expression for “the egg” (l’œuf) because an egg looks like the number zero. This is similar to the origin of the term “duck” in Cricket supposedly from “Duck’s egg” referring to a Batsman who has been called out without completing a run. “Love” is also said to derive from l’heure “the hour” in French. A third possibility comes from the Dutch expression iets voor lof doen, which means to do something for praise, implying no monetary stakes. Another theory on the origins of the use of “Love” comes from the acceptance that, at the start of any match, when scores are at zero, players still have “Love for each other”. This feeling, obviously, goes away as the match progresses.


By the way, the umpire has a rather sexy voice… I dont know who she is, but it made my toes tingle every time she said ‘deuce’.


Printer working again

Bought a new cartridge for the printer… working fine now.. boring for you as reader, happy for me as working printer owner :¬)


Woot! I got a ticket!!

I heard today that I have a ticket to John Finnemore’s Souvenir Programme radio recording in July!! Fantastic! I have to print out my ticket and take it with me, which is a problem because I dont have a working printer :¬(

Will have to do something creative…

By the way, I believe that Woot is now officially a word… Woot!

Death by Car Mat (almost)

On my way to visit my darrrrrrrling baby grandson (only a week old, he is just soo sweeeeeeeet), I was turning onto a huge roundabout when my steering went stiff on me… Argggg… no steering in the middle of a roundabout!!!   I limped, trembling, to a layby and found that my car mat had inched its way beneath the pedals and into the steering column assembly, and disabled my steering.  


Be Warned!!! dont let your car mat kill you!! That I am here to tell the tale is a miracle!



Curdled Soup or…

Curdled Soup or How a Woman Thinks

You wanted to know the contents of my head? Are you sure… ? Do you know the danger…? Your mission, should you choose to accept it…. To boldly go where no man has gone before…

One thing you should know about a woman’s mind, if you don’t know already, is that it isn’t arranged and categorised according to any logic a man would understand. It’s not a programmer’s mind, a mathematicians mind; it doesn’t relate to a flow chart or a set of formulae. Its made up of thoughts, sure.. but also feelings, emotions, instincts. It’s a maelstrom of chalk, cheese and everything in between. It’s a sort of responsive soup.

You know, I shouldn’t be telling you this… I may have to kill you…

I can’t be sure, for the very fact that I am a woman, and don’t think like a man, but I believe that a man can think in straight lines, putting his feelings and emotions and instincts aside, and act purely on the basis of logical thought. A woman can do this for a short time (probably nano-seconds) and have flashes of what it must be like, but mostly she is influenced by many other things than rational thought. She knows about rational thought but she can’t and shouldn’t ignore the many other factors.

For example,

When I was considering having a third child, or leaving it at two, I had to try and weigh the factors in my head. I had two boys, and wanted a girl. The ‘Cons’ were very simple. I had been tied to the home being a housewife and mother for 5 years, and would be until Russell, my youngest, went to school in another three years’ time; another child would extend that by another two years at least; further loss of earnings, expense, the physical strain on my body, the size of our home (perfect for 4, stretching it for 5), the fact that the third child could well turn out to be another boy, and that one shouldn’t bring a child into the world in a state of disappointment that he was the ‘wrong’ sex… the simple logistics of an extra seat in the car… and several other all very real and factual ‘Cons’.

Weigh that against the ‘Pros’ … I yearned for a girl child.

Now you would think logic would prevail… that entire factual sensible list would far outweigh the simple yearning…


Put the simple yearning into the mix and it curdled the soup.. it wouldn’t blend, integrate, I could not set aside the deep gut feeling inside me that was longing for a female child. Note here that I don’t try to say anything more about it, to describe it – because this yearning wasn’t a thing of words and sense and logic, it was a deep gut ache, a feeling, a need. It can’t be expressed in words or logical forms that conformed to any sort of sense… it was just a feeling… but it was ready to overwhelm all the good sense logic of the list of Cons.

Put side by side, the balance could tip either way, and probably would tip towards the yearning, if I had not had anyone else to consider. My husband didn’t really want another child; he was very happy with our two boys. But he was a good sympathetic man and he wouldn’t push me when I tried to explain my dilemma, and since the greatest loss would be to my time and effort and not his, he was prepared to leave the decision to me.

I agonised.. struggled.. fought … I knew at the time and know now that it was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make in my life, from the point of view of struggle. Here I am today with two boys, and you might think to yourself “logic prevailed… she made the decision”. You would be wrong. I decided to leave it to fate. My husband made the appointment with the hospital for his vasectomy, and the only thing I ‘decided’ was that we would not use any contraception until he had the snip… and what would be, would be. I remember that when the time came for him to go, and I wasn’t pregnant, I was relieved, and today I don’t regret it, but I still feel that tiny yearning voice call to me, the voice of the girl child I never had, and now will never have.

So.. I am sure you will be shaking your head in mock (or very real) despair, either having glimpsed with horror the faint vision of a ‘curdled-soup’ mind, or not having any idea really what I am talking about.

I don’t actually mind having this sort of process inside me. I know for a fact that if I didn’t have the feeling/instinct/response side of my character, I would feel something akin to having lost a leg suddenly… It’s something I rely on and use every moment of every day. It adds, rather than detracts from my life, and is as much a part of me as legs arms and lungs – essential – and very real. This is not an apologia… just an explanation, from a creature of Venus, to a creature of Mars.

It’s only when one comes face to face with the creatures from Mars that one feels (note that I use the word ‘feels’ and not ‘thinks’) that one is somehow … mmm… what is the word I am looking for… not ‘weird’, not ‘substandard’…. different perhaps, oh yes, certainly different. Not quite a freak… but an alien. A woman is aware that she is perplexing, infuriating, annoying sometimes, to the creatures that don’t have this ‘soup-for-a-mind’.

In a world run by the Martians, a woman is often made to feel less than normal, less than worthy, because she has this complex ‘soup-mind’. Women can stand up and say they are equal, know they have advantages in equal measure to men, but she can’t explain them, because there are no words for them in the language the world speaks … in any language. I believe it is the true mystery of femaleness, the part that men can’t understand and will at worst condemn, at best find amusing, hopefully tolerate without understanding, and predictably often dismiss.

I can tell you what I am thinking, but the rest? the mix? That isn’t tellable..  God help us.

Jubilee, Weather and Pride

If I was Queen for a day, I would make it so you had a day off on your birthday.  Nobody should have to go to work on their birthday.

I watched the River Pageant yesterday.  What an achievment!!  All those little boats.. barges, kayaks, the Dunkirk Little Ships, all trudging up the river into the wind and rain.

My mother used to say “We dont have a climate in this country… we just have Weather”

I kept wishing the Queen would SIT DOWN!!  She stood on her feet for about three hours in the rain and wind… I was scared she would catch a chill… and I kept hearing “Ilkley moor ba t’at” in my head.  And today the Duke of Endinburg is in Hospital with a chill on his kidneys… I’m not surprised. I hope there was a heater in the back of that boat :¬)

The concert tonight is pretty good.. nothing compares to the Liveaid concert.. somehow that had more magic.. but this is pretty good stuff…

I am a Royalist/Loyalist … if the Monarch wanted me to do something, I would do it. I guess its bred in me.  I can trace my ancestry back to the vikings too, and I guess that has something to do with it. All this celebration makes me feel rooted and proud to be English.  I wouldnt wish to be a citizen of any other country.

Cheezy? Sentimental? Sue me.

Well now, here’s the thing….

I have been reading some blogs lately… it all started with John Finnemore…    I can blame him because he wont mind.   He had links to other blogs, and then I started noticing them; other people’s.  Then I started following them… and never one to buck a trend, here I am with my own.

I would be thrilled to bits if someone reads this.

Also, this happened….