A collection of brain dumps which I feel the need to share with the world.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Happy Bert Day!!


It's the 1st of December tomorrow which, as all of my nearest and dearest know, is Bert Day!

For those of you not in the know, Bert Day is named after the Sultan of seventies smalzch, the Prince of piped musak, the Emperor of Easy listening, the ultimate King of Swing - Bert Kaempfert!!
Who? Yes, well, he's no longer a household name, but I bet there isn't a single person alive who hasn't hummed along with one of his toons while in the lift at the shopping mall, or shimmied in the supermarket to his 'Swinging Safari''.
I grew up in the Seventies, my parents were big fans, and his music seemed like the soundtrack to my childhood, particularly at Christmas. We had a family tradition on 1st December that the first Christmas song of the season was always 'Sleigh Ride' by Bert Kaempfert. It was always a cause for huge celebration - even the dog used to go mad when it came on - and Christmas would then officially begin.

When I moved in with my husband, I brought with me a collection of things I couldn't live without, including my cat, all of my books, my piano, and an ancient scratched copy of Christmas Wonderland by Bert. Being the most trendy, most 'happenin' dude alive at the time, he could barely conceal his horror when, on 30th November, I reverently slid Christmas Wonderland out of its sleeve in preparation for the 'big day'.
'What's THAT?' 'You can't be seriously expecting me to listen to that!' were some of the more repeatable comments he fired at me. It was like I'd asked him to wear crimplene trousers.

I just ignored him, knowing that Bert would work his magic, and he'd be hooked.
He indulged me on 1st December, thinking that would be it, not knowing that I had also made a tape for the car, and Bert would accompany everything we did for the next 25 days.

After about a week, he stopped complaining, and I even started to see his toe tapping when he thought I wasn't looking. By the next Christmas, he was the one foraging in the LP cupboard on 30th November. The next Christmas, he was the one horrified to find that Bert was too scratched to play on our superduper new hifi system, and who then spent weeks trying to find a copy on CD, which he eventually had to have imported from Holland.
I didn't say anything - Bert had worked his magic.

The secret is that on that album, Bert has managed to capture every Christmas emotion going, happiness, excitement. jollity, anticipation, even poignant sadness, and it's impossible not to feel something Christmassy when you listen to it. It's just a winner.
I'm not sure how easy it is to get hold of these days - we have burned a zillion CD's to keep us going into the next generation - but if you happen upon a copy, just buy it.
It's canned Christmas, and you'll never look back.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Nutritional nugget number two

Eat oysters! They are, as we all know, meant to be an aphrodisiac, but this is essentially due to their high zinc content. Zinc deficiency can cause male impotency, which may be where the association to zinc-rich oysters increasing libido evolved.
I am currently studying all minerals, and was astounded at how many times oysters appeared as being one of the best sources of most of them. Other seafood such as whelks and winkles are also good sources of minerals, as are seeds.

You can buy oysters tinned, and stick them in pasta, but obviously the best way to eat them is raw with a glass of champagne. I think me being sick after eating a raw oyster may ruin the romantic mood, however...

Thursday, November 02, 2006

The legacy of the ever plunging butt line

The cleavage is out, apparently. It is our buttocks which are now displayed, with waistbands which creep perilously closer to our crotch with every season's fashions. When 'low-rise' trousers came into fashion, I viewed them with suspicion. I knew this was trouble. I was a child of the eighties, when the only thing poking over your waistband was your collar, and even now, if anything below my ribcage is exposed, I feel as though I'm catching a chill.

That is my real problem with the 'low-riders'. They're so darned uncomfortable, especially in the winter, and they fall down all the time - it's just so annoying. It's now impossible to buy any trendy jeans which aren't cut to the crotch. I went out to buy myself a pair of new skinny jeans, hoping that now hemilines are narrowing, maybe they would use the extra fabric to raise the waistband! I searched high and low for any pair with a zip longer than two inches, but nope. I bought a pair anyway, but will just have to wear a nice, long vest with them to keep out the cold - so attractive.

I've also lost my waist thanks to low-rise waisbands, though I will agree that I've had to work harder to achieve a flat tum. I tried on a couple of skirts I've had for years, and I still take the same dress size, but doing up the waistband, which actually fastened around the waist, felt like doing up a whalebone corset. Of course, it could be just old-age, but I think we're so used to slouching round with our trousers hanging off our butts that our waistlines have become obsolete. It's evolution.

I also resent constantly having to view exposed underwear wherever I go. Having a coffee in a restaurant the other day, I didn't know where to look for a view that didn't put me off my gluten-free brownie. On almost every chair, women's bums spilled over their trousers, sometimes exposing pairs of dodgy knickers, and sometimes just lots of bulging flesh.
Even the slimmest of ladies carry some weight in that area, and some of these ladies had kissed slim hips goodbye a long time ago. In one way, it's nice that they felt so liberated, but for the casual observer, not so much.

I was going to take a picture with my phone and post it on here, but I read a piece on the 'Peeping Thong' pest at the University of Victoria. Women were outraged by photos of their exposed butts being posted on the web. I had to ask myself why, after idling counting at least six exposed thongs over coffee. If they were that bothered, they could always wear a vest...

Apart from the occasional glimpse of a designer logo on the waistband of their boxers, men remain largely untouched by this fashion phenomenon. Probably why it has hung around for so long. Look at all the fabric clothes manufacturers must be saving by leaving all of those hip bones uncovered, and I bet vest sales have gone through the roof, too, for the less inhibited among us, and those trying to avoid being on PeepingThong.com.

Am I the only woman that feels this way, or are there more of you out there that want to sit down in comfort, without the fear of exposing next week's washing (or ending up on 'Peeping Thong'!)?