Ceridwenscauldron

One of the highlights of Kew Gardens for me was the waterfowl in and around the lake.

aside from the usual mallards, moorhens, Canada geese and coots we saw a pod of pochards

and some tufted ducks

and this stripey headed goose

which according to my bird book is a bar headed goose. We later found another one having a kip with its gosling

who wasn't very sleepy. The bar headed goose is originally from central Asia, but so many have escaped from private wildfowl collections they are now breeding in the wild just like this chap

who is an Egyptian goose.

there were lots of other families about including this one.

The swans were too busy to be bothering with breaking anyone's arm.

Mind you back on the water there was some violence as

this great crested grebe had a go at a pair of coots, don't know what it was about maybe he wanted their floating nest for himself or fancied eating their chicks for his tea.

Then we saw this fellow

who is a dabchick or little grebe, he really was tiny and kept diving under the surface so Mab was really lucky to get such a clear shot at him.

All photos taken by Queene Mab

As Mab's readers will know we took a trip down the river to Kew Gardens yesterday (£10.50 from Westminster Pier).

It had been a long time since I last took a trip on a Thames pleasure boat and I was amazed at the number of luxury flats that are now on the banks of the river just like these whose design is based upon the idea of a luxury liner.

We also passed by the top secret headquarters of MI6, so secret they have only been in a few James Bond films

Leaving the secret service to carry on saving us from the threat of people carrying drinking water on to planes we came across the rather wonderful Battersea Power Station

Designed by Sir Gilbert Scott who also designed the iconic Red Telephone Box that BT have destroyed so many of, this fantastic piece of Art Deco architecture is just sitting there rotting since the Thatcher era dream of turning it into a theme park fell through. Now why would that not work? How about its only a small site unlike Disneyland or Chessington which are spread over several acres. still it did not stop the developers ripping the roof off and removing all the funky equipment.

A bit further on we found I think the decommissioned Fulham Power Station nwhich is being converted into a shopping centre and flats

Surely Battersea could be saved by a development like that rather than left to crumble away?

said the child behind the checkout at Sainsbury last night, must be part of Sainsbury's effort to get staff (I'm not calling them colleagues that's meaningless corporate bollocks) to engage with their customers.

Having just popped in for some cat food, a bottle of Jif and some Toilet Duck (yes cocktails tonight) I can't imagine whet he thought I might say.

"Well yes actually, gosh, me and Candy Pornstar and Machine Gun Betty played an absolutely wizard prank on the Cereal Killer ha yes we put ink on his phone handset and ha rang him up and ha he got ink over his ear hahaha,

Then Spudsey and I played anther wizard prank on PC Rozzer who was having a snooze in the Quad ha yah we stapled his tie to his bicycle tyre then I got together with the Saucy Wench and Bosun Gravy and we made sardine and bloater sandwiches for our midnight feast in the dorm with lashings of dandelion and burdock before building a space ladder to the outer reaches of the Earth's atmosphere where aliens collected us in their spaceship and took us on a trip to the end of the Universe where we watched the Big Bang happen and then went to play with some dinosaurs and Billy the Kid, Van Halen and Frankenstein before Captain Kirk said it was time to go home and here I am doing the shopping on my way home."

or maybe just "not much really"

I'd forgotten about this lot until I picked up a triple album of old goth rubbish on Saturday. I saw them supporting Red Lorry Yellow Lorry at the Boston Arms in Kentish Town about 20 years ago. Video must have cost all of 30 bob.

Split up to look for someone in a haunted house.

Join any club that Joyce Barnaby or Cullie join in Midsummer Murders you will either be a murderer or a corpse by the end of the show.

Ever attend a function in Walford especially one for yourself it will end in a row, discovery of a dark secret, death or quite likely all three.

Put on a red jersey when you wake up on the USS Enterprise.

Have you seen Peter Howson's nude portrait of Madonna?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/glasgow_and_west/8069759.stm

I swear when I first saw it over the shoulder of an Evening Standard reader last night I thougt it was Iggy

After Sean Connery Scottish film stars don't come much bigger than this

This is Hamish who starred with Sir Sean in the film Entrapment, at 15 he is much nearer the age of catherine Zeta Jones than the former James Bond. He lives at Kilmahog and is the main attraction at the first place we stopped on our lighting coach tour of the Highlands last weekend (Scotline Tours £35).

Kilmahog was our first stop after leaving Edinburgh at 8am and aside from Hamish there was nothing other than the all to familiar site of a canteen unable to cope with coach parties tacked onto a shop full of Scottish tourist tat.

Next stop was the Weeping Glen of Glencoe, where the Campbells massacred the McDonalds after accepting their hospitality in 1692

As you can see I'm enjoying some lovely Scottish sunshine.

And so on to Fort William for lunch at yet another coach stop where you can queue for 20 minutes only to discover that they have run out the only thing you fancied on the overpriced menu. Grrrrrr.

Leaving Fort William we passed Ben Nevis which was shrouded in lovely Scottish summer cloud and then headed down the route of the Caledonian Canal to Urquhart Castle on the banks of Loch Ness

Nobody seems to know when it was built but there are records of its capture by Edward I of England in 1296. It was smashed up by troops of William III in 1692 during the first Jacobite uprising, to stop the Jacobites using it as a stronghold and never rebuilt. Still there is a jolly good restaurant where you can actually get something to eat if you had missed your lunch.

Now Urquhart Castle is one of the places where people have spotted the monster from. No luck for us here so we boarded the Caledonian Queen (castle and cruise £14.50 extra) and enjoyed the scenery of Loch Ness which is so large it even has its own Lifeboats.

Maybe he's chasing the monster.

Having come to the end of our cruise we got on the bus for the journey home which took us via Inverness (where we learnt that Scottish people like shopping at Lidl and saw a pair of oystercatchers who have made their nest on a traffic island) and Perth through the Grampian Mountains.

Getting back to Edinburgh we had to cross the Forth Road Bridge which meant that I got a great view of the Forth Rail Bridge (sadly only through the coach window) which I had crossed on the way to Dundee only a few weeks ago.

We finally got back to Edinburgh at 8.30pm, a long day, but we certainly packed in a lot and seeing Loch Ness, even if the only monster I saw was at a petrol station, is something I have wanted to do for a long time.

Another highlight of our weekend was a trip into Glasgow to see Mab's cousin. After National Express cocked up our original tickets we got a special buy one get one free group deal from Scotrail,getting us into Glasgow in time for lunch at the Willow Tea Rooms in Buchanan Street.

Very nice it was too despite the very slow service. I had an Arbroath Smokie which was delicious as did Mab while the others ate Haggis. Mab would have had the haggis only they could not do it without the mashed spud which I thought was a bit pathetic.

Anyhow before we left Mab says to me "I think they must have tarted this place up since we were last here" Looking round I had to agree as I didn't remember it looking that way when we were there years ago. It was only when I read the blurb on the menu that I realised that the reason it looked different was because the one we had eaten in then was the original Rennie Mackintosh designed cafe in Sauchihall Street....Doh! still it is very pretty with the distinctive high backed Mackintosh chairs that make you feel like Dennis Waterman in Little Britain.

Of course the other thing Charles Rennie Mackintosh is famous for is the Glasgow School of Art

which we passed on the way for a farewell drink with Mab's cousin before heading back to Edinburgh.

I saw a pair of house sparrows in the car park of our local Sainsbury store yesterday. Ok I know that sounds a bit mundane but its the first time I have seen sparrows in or around London for several years.

Sadly the last time I can remember seeing one was when I extracted a small corpse from beneath Godzilla (the cat not the fire breathing dragon) who was hoping that I hadn't noticed he'd just killed it, which I guess must have been about 15 years ago. Just like Joni Mitchell said "you don't know what you've got till its gone" and despite seeing the little chaps in places as far apart as Tallin and the Canary Islands I have not seen any in or around London for ages.

Lets hope they are making a comeback.

This is the Berlin Fernsehturm a 368 metre tall TV Tower that dominates the Berlin skyline

At some point after the wall came down someone had the bright idea of tarting up the shaft with some mock graffitti, but I think they would have been better off bolting on some of those theme park carriages that could wind slowly up to the dome and then be dropped at breakneck speed, would have been better than the one at Park Adventura!

There has been a lot of media attention given to National Express's decision to charge £2.50 for a seat reservation on their trains. The cynical might say its just another way of ripping customers off.

However when we travelled back from Edinburgh yesterday there were no seat reservations on our train. Fortunately we all got to sit together, but many people were not so lucky and ended up standing for the duration of the journey. We'd only paid £16.50 each for our tickets, but some people had forked out well over a ton for the journey, I bet they were well chuffed.

Apparently this was due to a tecnical problem. Not quite sure what kind of technical problem it is that stops someone walking down the carriage placing little cards in the seat tops, but it only effected Standard Class passengers.

To add to the misery of the seatless passengers they got the blame for the trolley not being able to pass down the train! not only that but the train was extremely hot as the air conditioning did not seem to be working too well.

As we approached York they were offered the opportunity to change trains, obviously no one bothered to tell the people at York because when we arrived more passengers were allowed to get on. Perhaps the train crew and the station operate from different budget centres!

I was horrified by the stste of the toilet in our carriage, not so much from the point of cleanliness (although it was not pretty) but because of the mirror door above the sink, had not been properly secured and so was swinging freely back and forth roughly at head height for anyone unfortunate enough to have to sit on the loo. It also exposed a nest of electric wires which is not a good idea.

All this from a company that promotes the corporate value of "Safe - Everywhere, Everyday, Everyone"

Well we all know corporate values are just meaningless PR puffery.

Goes into ticket office branded National Express, says to person behind counter in National Express corporate uniform

"I ordered these (National Express) tickets online but they sent me three outward coupons and five return ones, clearly its a mistake can you change them for me as we are about to travel?"

How very naive of me to expect a representative of a corporation to do something that simple, oh no as I booked it online I can only deal with a National Express call centre.

Ring ring "this call centre is closed for the weekend please call back during office hours"

Why do large corporations like National Express or BT make sorting out problems so hard for customers. Were one being cynical one might imagine that once they had our money they are as obstructive as possible just to keep their greedy hands on it.

I can see this will run and run.

Sung by some comedy Germans

I like the way they rhyme set me free with tyranny

And your coat

I first saw this lot when the Moff was stashed safely away inside Mab's tummy, Cool or what?

Geddit, this is Checkpoint Charlie shown from the former Russian side, I think its a bit more interesting as you have not got the goons dressed as US and British soldiers posing for a Euro a go in the way. This isn't the actual building either as that was dismantled and put in a museum, but a replica of the 1961 hut that went up when the Berlin wall was built. The art installation above the checkpoint features on either side a portrait of one of the last US and Russian soldiers to be stationed at the checkpoint, they both look awfully young.

Walking back up Freiedrichstrasse on the former US side we saw this funky little Trabant Estate

It seems the credit crunch must be biting here too as the for sale price had dropped from €3750 to €2999.

At the top of Friedrichstrasse we turned into Unter den Linden and took a leisurely stroll under the said lime trees towards the Brandenburg Gate. along the way we resisted the kiosks selling beer killing any lager and lime jokes stone dead.

Once past more goons in cold War uniforms we headed do=wn to the Potsdammer Platz U-Bahn station taking in the Jewish memorial along the way and even seeing some bunnies in a garden!

That evening we had a very pleasant meal and drinks at the Xantener Ect Brauhaus which was just around the corner from the hotel. Just as well as we were all a bit knackered thanks to a very long Saturday the day before. I had the Curry Wurst, because you can't not really do Germany and not try it. Despite various warnings it was actually quite nice coming in a sweet curry sauce derived from tomato ketchup, I believe. The four of us fed and drank well that night not bad for €93.

Now on the way to the Xantener I spotted this motorcycle which I think may be an old East German model, anyone know what it is?

Some people like to think that Berlin is all decadence, showgirls and depravity, I thought it was a remarkable civilised place. Getting from the Airport to the city was a breeze on Berlin's integrated public transport network even if the tube map was pasted on the ceiling of the the carriage which complete with the tiny point size of the print made for much middle aged myopic fun.

Having arrived in the city in the mid afternoon we had a brief freshen up before hitting the streets stopping only for tapas at the QBO (Konstanzer Strasse 1) an atmospheric Cuban restaurant with a cigar room round the back. considering there were four of us I thought €35.60 wasn't bad with drinks. From there it was on to the Xantener Eck (Xantener Strasse 1) for more drinks. This was a very nice little pub dating back to 1909 which had lots of different beers at around €4 a pint, The Konig Ludwig was very yummy.

Hopping on the U-Bahn (underground) we discovered that the German sense of humour really is not that different to ours

We soon arrived at Mehringdamm and met the very lovely Rampage on the platform. Knowing the quickest way to our collective hearts was through our collective stomach he took us up on the street to enjoy a Doner kebab from Mustafas Kebabs. Legend has it that Turkish immigrants invented the Doner Kebab here when an enterprising chap filled some bread with the grilled meat. Now I can't say whether this is true but the little kiosk does make an extremely good Doner, filling the bread with grilled chicken and vegetables, chili and garlic sauce, feta cheese and salad. Good value too at €2.80 for a large one.

I must admit I'm a bit hazy on how we got from there to here

but it seemed to involve trains, a bus and a tram. Mab took this rather splendid picture of Mr Wolfe, me, Old Nick and Rampage by one of the remaining stretches of Wall near Warschauer Strasse S-Bahn (Overground train) station. Strange place the wall, lots of emotions clinging to it.

Anyhow the rest of the evening was quite splendid as we visited some of the music bars in the East's punk district before getting the S-Bahn back to our hotel at about three in the morning, since the Berliners keep their public transport network running all night at weekends to allow people out having fun to get home, take note Boris. Rampage explained that it cuts down on drunk driving as you can rely on the train, tram or bus to get you home. Also there were hordes of people swigging beer from bottles and beer on sale from station kiosks with nobody fighting or being that obnoxious.

So we bid our guide a fond farewell and headed back, Many thanks Rampage for showing us part of the city that we would have got hopelessly lost in without you, you are welcome here at Rancho Collapso anytime.

Don't mix. When I printed out my online boarding pass for my flight to Berlin it came out of the printer in two halves.

When I asked the lady on Easyjet's info desk at Luton (its not bloody London Luton is it, there's the whole of fucking Hertfordshire in between) she said "Oh that always happens with Macs, and they won't accept it at security" No surprise there, however I was allowed to use the Speedy Boarding chanel to get a proper boarding pass, thereby avoiding having to queue at the normal desk.

Now while not displacing Gatwick and Stansted from my least favourite places on Earth, Luton Airport is a bit grim with lots of long corridors that remind me of those abandoned hospitals they used to film bad sci fi films in the 1960s.

It also amazes me how when the airport was first built no bugger thought it might also be a good idea to have a rail link. It does have a station (Luton Airport Parkway) but its a bus ride away which is all extra hassle for people travelling with luggage and kids.

Mind you as the slip road from the motorway was shut when we arrived on Saturday morning it was handy to know we could use the station bus to get to the Airport, once we had been dropped off. The bus cost a quid, which I think was a bit stiff for such a short journey, but isn't that the way in the UK where travellers get ripped off at every opportunity, thereby encouraging private car use.

According to the train company guy a rail fare to London was £11 without a connecting tube fare home, an extra £4. When we got to Berlin an integrated ticket that allowed us to get from Schonfeld Airport to our hotel cost only €2.90 giving us two hours unlimited use of the city's trains, underground, trams and buses. I have found it to be similar in Amsterdam and Copenhagen where there are proper integrated public transport systems too.

Which reminds me what idiot decided to build Edinburgh Airport's infrastructure on the opposite side of the airport to the railway line to Dundee? The track passes right by the airport so surely it would have been more logical not to mention greener to have integrated the airport's road and rail access instead of running busses to nearby stations.

The final puzzle is I'm afraid the shoe police, who were busy making alternate people passing through the X-Ray screening take off their shoes, now Nick and I avoided this indignity, while the woman in front was made to take her shoes off. This really defies any logic when you consider that Richard Reid the infamous shoe bomber was wearing trainers like both of us were not dinky little court shoes. For the record this daft procedure was not practiced at Berlin on the way back.

Bosun Gravy came back from the shops with a tiny butternut Squash the other day.

"Ye foul cur how can Cook make soup with that" quoth Master Surgeon Tripe,

"Aye and for sooth we be mighty hungry too" added the Saucy wench

"Urrrp" hooted the bear.

"Fear not Shipmates for I have some parsnips and leeks in the galley's veg rack" I replied.

OK this fed three of us, but you can bulk it out to feed more with mopre veg.

In the pan goes some olive oil. Add one chopped onion, two chopped leeks, four smashed garlic cloves, two chopped chilis, two teaspoons of cumin seeds, two teaspoons of curry powder, a bunch of curry leaves and a lump of finely chopped ginger. give it a stir and let it cook away while youd peel, deseed and chunk the squash. then peel and roughly chop about five parsnips and two spuds, chuck them all in the pot and stir it about to coat the root veg with the softed onion and leek base.

Add a glass of white wine, let it steam away a bit and top up the pan with chicken stock. Bring to the boil, turn down and let it simmer away for about an hour.

After about an hour you can blitz with a hand blender to render the soup down to a creamy paste.

Great with fresh crusty cheese and onion bread.

Phew what a relief Cook and his crew turned up just in the nick of time!

Still back to the start of the story, I was really happy working at the Tower of London where I had my own pit and as much Hunny as I could drink until the day someone ratted on me to Prince Philip about teaching the ravens to say "Show us your knickers" to the Queen.

So I was round at Poo's house when one of the lads, I think it was Rude Bert, suggested making a new start in Germany's capital Berlin, cos they likes bears there.

So fresh off the plane I applied for a job at an ice cream parlour, but they had to let me go because of my mobility disability

You know the one that stops me from standing up after a few Hunnys.

so I auditioned for the Blue Man Group

But they turned me down on a technicality, like I wasn't actually a man, well get you they ain't really blue either!

So then I ended up on the streets begging until I got a job in a factory making sex toys out of grass

But my heart was still in showbiz until I ended up in the seedy underworld of Berlin's transvestite sex clubs wiggling my ass to bored business men for a few Euros

Before Cook and Mab found me and got me cleaned up and taken home.

Or is it a new ZZ Top tribute band?

This is me and Mr Wolfe in East Berlin with our old friends Marx and Engels, as you can see Engels is auditioning for a role in a Sergio Leone western while Marx is practicing for his stint as Father Christmas in Hamleys. While Mab was shooting the picture a loud American decided to tell us we were doing it all wrong because we should be sitting on Marx. Must be the first time an American has advised someone from Western Europe to sit in the lap of Socialism.

We found thee two chaps in a park near Berlin's Museum Island where most of the museums seem to be being refurbished still we did get to see Nefertiti's head and a few other bits and pieces in the Old Museum where there are a number of exhibits charting the restoration and conservation of artifacts. While interesting I did think that the exhibits were not very well explained and it was a bit pricey at €8.

And so on to lunch at the Brauhaus Lemke

A lovely little place under the railway arches at Hakescher Markt S-Bahn station, that brewed its own beer; an dark ale, a Pilsner, a Weissbeer and a strong 7% lager, we ate there on the following day too so we got to try all of them, as well as this rather nice selection of food

Thuringer style sausage with red cabbage that was mine

Knuckle of pork with pea mash and mash for Mr Wolfe

Knuckle of pork with crispy crackling for Mab and

A Lemke Grill Plate for Old Nick, all very good and with drinks I think the bill was about €60

Yum yum

In case any of you racist morons are reading this I thought that you might like to know that your scare-mongering hate-fueled election material went straight in the shredder.

Or something like that ran the headline on the front page of the Express. Surprising really as I'd have expected the Mail would have been a more appropriate place for this story.

Now according to the eagle eyed journos well minted foreigners are paying ten grand to fly Club Class to Ireland and then gasp.... just walking over the border so that they can get a boat to England or Scotland where these Middle Eastern or Asian millionaire types can live it up on benefits and eat all of our swans and donkeys. According to our friends at the UK Border Agency these foreign johnnies are taking advantage of Ireland's lax border controls as they'd never get in at a good old British port of entry.

Whether this is true or not isn't it funny how this story that plays to the xenophobia of the average Mail or Express reader has broken in the middle of the parliamentary expenses row.

Now who ever said the £8 million quid spent on PR and Marketing by the UKBA was wasted.

Robots play Hawkwind why hasn't it been done before?

yep its Robert Mitchum singing

Shipscat One here.

I should have something was up when the Fat Monkey didn't sling me out this mornin, still he wozn't goin huntin, just sittin at he computer doin werk stuff so I fort maybe its Satday alredy.

But then the gray monkeys turned up and I went to see them to tell them I needed some more breakfust like coz the Fat one fed me ages ago and the female monkey bundled me into the cat prison, while the Fat Cook cort sis and stuk her in her box.

So they putz me in the car and takes me to the place they torture catz and it was full of other catz an they woz all pathetic and cringing coz they saw me and they knew I could have em and so did the big red wolf who came in and slobbered everywhere too an then we went into the torture room and the bald monkey who smells like that stuff the monkeys use to make the water in the toilet taste horrid for catz when they is fursty, like lemons or somfink, gets Sis out and sez she needs to keep her trumpet on for anuver two munfs and stiks a pin in er for a booster and anover one to make the hair on her bum grow back where she has rubbed it off, well that's what he sed but I fink he just hates her coz she's a rubbish cat an a gurl and fings, Ha hahahah she got pins stuk in her.

Anyhow he gets me out an I don't cringe or try to run up over the fat one's shoulder or anyfink like that coz I know I can have them both anytime but then he stiks some pins in me, the basterd an then he gives me a poke in the gutz and sez I ave a full bladder and an intestine full of poo.

I saved that till I got home, Mwahahahahahahah

Despite the fact that its our cash they are trousering, the whole parliamentary expenses scandal is proving to be a rich seam of comedy as politicians attempt to wriggle their way out of this stinking cess pit of their own creation. There seems little real contrition and a great deal of indignation at their collective rumbling.

Health Minister Phil Hope holds the record so far for paying back creative claims with a whopping £41,709. He claimed it was "a massive blow to his integrity and standing with voters" Too fucking right it will be, but you have to ask what did he expect voters to think if he was found with his nose in the trough.

Mind you for bare faced cheek you hagve to admire Labour Peer Lord Foulkes who in trying to throw BBC News 24 anchorwoman Carrie Gracie off the scent challenged her over her own £92,000 pay check. Foulkes said:

"So you are paid nearly twice as much as an MP to come on TV and talk rubbish"

Not only was that very rude, demonstrating just how rattled politicians are by the scandal, and yes £92,000 is quite a handsome paycheck, but it isn't nearly double the £64,700 earned by an MP (before fiddles) and substantially less than many ministerial salaries. Just as these shameless politicos have argued in defence of City Fat Cats, Gracie's pay is dertermined by the market rate for news show anchors and just not relevant in the coverage of this story.

oulkes himself claimed over £64,000 in second home allowances between 2001 and 2005 which is somewhat more that many people would have earnt through honest labour in the same time.

Perhaps my favourite quote though come from an unamed backbench MP in today's Metro who said:

"What's really unfair is that if you've got a "boring" claim like a big mortguage you get to keep the money, but if it is a smaller claim that is more eye catching you have to pay it back"

Is this fellow arguing that the more creative an expense claim is the more more justified it is to trouser the loot!

Finally I see that upstanding member of the establishment Hazel Blears is paying the taxman the £13,332 that she avoided paying in Capital Gains Tax when she sold her London pad having designated it her primary home for tax purposes but as her second for claiming parliamentary expenses. I wonder if the tax man will be fining her for any late payment!

Just in case you have ever wondered what to do with those odd shaped things try this,

Heat some olive oil in a large sauce pan and chuck in a large chopped onion, some crushed garlic cloves, four chopped chilis and a teaspoon of cumin seeds. Stir it al about until the onions soften, then add two teaspoons of curry powder and a good pinch of curry leaves. cook this off for a bit then add two teaspoons of English mustard and a glass of white wine.

Peel, deseed and chuink a butternut squash and chuck the chunks into the pot, top up with chicken stock and leave to simmer for as long as the squash takes to soften (20 minutes -half an hour) then blitz with a hand blender.

Serve with some tiger bread.

I brought some of this back from Sweden

Do you think it will catch on in the UK?

Its a milk chocolate bar with a sort of salty liquorish gloop inside, I brought a bag of mini plopp bars home for the people at work too, much more fun than a bag of Dime bars

We have run out of white vermouth and the shops are shut

Manhattans all round

Huzzah

Just had a local election flyer from the Green's put through the door.

Our local candidate is a philosophy lecturer called Rupert.

Nuff said

Sounds like a good idea but its rubbish really, fine to start with, but its just too sticky to get out once you have had a few squeezes out of it.

I think they should put Marmite in a tub.

I have to say that I have long thought the present system of MP's expenses was way too open to abuse and I can't help but be pleased that the whole can of corruption has been opened up.

Even so some of their piss taking claims beggar belief for their bare faced cheek. Yes I'm talking about you Two Loo Seat Two Jags.

And the reaction from Westminster seems to be more one of "Oh shit we have been rumbled" than "We are very sorry to have ripped off all you tax payers"

Jack Straw's claim that it was a mistake that he claimed back his full council tax when he only paid half of it is pretty rich, had you made a claim like that at work they'd be calling the Rozzers as they handed you your P.45.

And just what sort of mess does Boredom Groan make at home to justify those cleaning bills? OK probably less that the mess he has made of the economy I give you that.

I just read Old Nick's post about the Eighties and it set me thinking as to why I think the Eighties were a bit rubbish. I reckon its probably got a lot to with my age.

Having grown up in the 1960s and 70s I'm culturally anchored in a slightly different period to him and many of my formative experiences were rooted in those earlier decades. I can remember hearing the Beatles, Stones, Animals and the Who on my parents old Fidelity radio, other relatives would bring round than latest singles by the likes of Manfred Mann or the Hollies whenever we had family get togethers, and you could generally see one or two decent bands on Top of the Pops every week. In the latter part of the 60s and early 70s Psychedelia, hippy thing happened, it was fabulous seeing so many adults getting so upset about men with long hair and women going about without bras.

Through secondary school in the 70s me and most of my mates were into the glam and progressive rock thing with Mott the Hoople, Roxy Music and Van der Graaf Generator, then when I was about 17 the punk thing happened so I got to see the Sex Pistols, Patti Smith, the Stranglers, Siouxsie, the Damned and the Rammones when they were really happening and not some nostalgic end of pier cabaret show.

I used to love the Sunday afternoon sessions at the Chalk Farm Roundhouse where you could see three great bands for £1.50 (in 1975 that was, by 1980 it cost £3 to get in) and the Marquee when it was a little club on Wardour Street. I saw everyone from the Groundhogs to jazz trumpeter Ian Carr.

So I guess that's why my music collection has so many albums by bands like Black Sabbath and Captain Beefheart and relatively little stuff that is post 1980. On top of this most of the bands I liked from the Eighties like the Gun Club or New Model Army were either formed in the 70s or playing music that to my mind was firmly rooted in the period 1955 to 1979.

The sort of things I didn't like about the eighties in no particular order and by no means exclusively, were Thatcher, Spandau Ballet, Robert Elms, the Loadsamoney greed is good culture, the introduction of that crazy don't need to know what you are managing culture into the workplace with all its spreadsheets and pathetic timewasting techniques, the insane need to show off how wealthy you were even if you were skint, people who drove BMWs, XR3is or a worse still a Lexus, red braces, puff ball skirts, Princess Diana, the Human League, Stock, Aitkin and Waterman and designer clothing that had the name of the designer printed in a fuck off big font, just to show how expensive it was.

What was brilliant about the decade was getting married to Mab, my daughter being born, making some good friends, our insane cats, Floodland by the Sisters of Mercy, A Date with Elvis by the Cramps, Miami and the Las Vegas Story by the Gun Club and New Model Army's Thunder and Consolation.

Best gig of the decade was The Gun Club, Sisters of Mercy, Joolz and New Model Army at London's Lyceum I didn't even mind walking home from that.

Yesterday the Bank of England decided to create £50 billion to help the government spend its way out of the present recession.

Whether this works or not who knows I frankly have my doubts about how just creating more money from nothing works. I mean if its that easy why can't we all print our own cash at home with say a John Bull Printing Set or potato cuts to boost the economy by buying lots of stuff we don't actually need.

Then we wouldn't need banks anymore, but that's OK for the greedy bastards who used to run them can just make a few quid more to buy some extra spuds and poster paints to make themselves even more cash to stuff their mattresses with without freeloading off the rest of us.

However what was the immediate effect of the Bank's action, yep the Pound dropped against the Euro and we are off to Germany soon.

Thanks a bunch guys.

I see Gordon Pell the last of the RBS board who presided over the bank's decline into us public ownership has retired on a pension that is more than half what he earned while working.

I suppose on the bright side he can't do any more damage to the economy, lets hope he finds somewhere safe to stash it away.

For our second day in Stockholm we went on a cruise.

It only took 50 minutes on the M/S Prins Carl Philip from the quayside to reach the Swedish Royal family's country pad at Drottningholm, but what a gorgeous trip, such wonderful scenery as we left the city and navigated past the islands of Lake Malaren to discover the amazing 16th century palace on the island of Lovon.

Since the royals still live here the place is protected by the Royal Guards. There are only thirty of them and they come from all branches of the Swedish armed services.

I think the one at the back must be new as she does not have her gun yet. Perhaps it is in the bag.

One of the brilliant things about Sweden is that you can wander round the grounds of places like this without having to pay anything, so we did. Behind the palace is an Baroque Garden with fountains, then the so called English Garden (more of a park really) where I found this funky little place

This is the Guard's House, its sheathed in zinc, but painted to look like a tent which is quite fun. Close by here I saw a red squirrel scampering about, what a treat.

A bit further from the palace is the Chinese Pavillion, but before that there are a set of buildings converted into a restaurant where we stopped for freshly made waffles and coffee. I tried a slice of the Powder Monkey's waffle with some cream and it was rather good.

So climbing up the hill from the restaurant we reached the Chinese Pavilion. More restrained than Fatty George's pad at Brighton it still had plenty of dragons and looking back the way we came was this place built on top of the restaurant we had the waffles in.

I went for a closer look and through the windows noticed the table and what looked like two circular book cases. How curious I thought, then I noticed another two circular panels in the floor in front of the table. It turns out that this place is called the Confidence and its where the Royals used to go to dine undisturbed by servants. The table was hoisted up through the floor fully laid and the things I had taken for bookcases were dumb waiters that allowed the different courses to be sent up from the kitchens.

So we having seen the Chinese Pavilion we headed back to the jetty to discover the SS Drottningholm a genuine steamer with a proper steam engine, not a rotten old diesel, to take us back to Stockholm to christen Mara's new flat with some duty free Champagne. The perfect end to a perfect day.

An update on my latest BT horror story.

5.30pm Chap from chairman's office calls to say they are going stop the account, refund the money and that they are very sorry.

I express my dismay that in order to resolve these problems its necessary to go to the Chairman's office because of the difficulty in getting to talk to the right person.

He says they are looking into it

I say that's what I was told last time I raised a complaint through BT HQ, but wish him luck with getting things changed for the better.

Lets see if that is the end of it.

Got an e-mail from BT which might as well have said

"Dear Shipscook

We will be billing you £3.40 for your subscription, and oh yes don't try e-mailing us back here if you have any problems because that's far too obvious"

So after spending about 15 minutes in website hell finally found a telephone no. Naturally I had to push a load of buttons before I got past the robots and spoke to a person.

"Hello whats all this about helping yourself to money from my credit card account again when I cancelled this service last year"

BT person takes details then says its not them I have to talk to but someone in BTyahoo.

"I'd really hoped you would be able to sort this out without me needing to phone someone else its very annoying to be passed around like this"

BT person offers to put me through and much to my surprise I'm soon speaking to another person, explain to them that they have started helping themselves to my money again and I'm not happy with it.

"Whats your e-mail address?"

Cook gives e-mail

"We have no record of this address, do you use another?"

"How can you have no record when you just e-mailed me to tell me you were going to take the money?"

BT person mysteriously now finds my account

"Ah yes well this is technical support so I will have to put you through to billing?"

"Er why don't you just put a contact point for billing on your e-mails so people can sort these things out without having to spend 20 minutes on the phone speaking to the wrong person?"

"I don't know, let me speak to someone in billing"

get put on hold

"Caller billing's systems have gone down, can you call back after 4pm?"

"No just put me through to them I want this sorted out now"

"but they can't do anything while the system is down"

"I don't care, I have now been on the phone for over 20 minutes and I want to speak to someone in the relevant department. If you don't put me through now I'm going to complain to the Chairman's office and Oftel"

"I will put you through"

Bit of Mozart

"BT how can I help you?"

Explains situation

"I will look into it"

More Mozart

"Now we are getting somewhere at last"

More Mozart gets cut off.

Another ten minutes to find BT Corporate HQ phone number. Explain situation again, operator makes sympathetic noises and promises to get someone from the Chairman's office to ring back. Two hours later get phone call, very polite fellow apologises and says he will sort it out.

I think its a real shame that to get a huge corporation to sort out a customer billing enquiry it has to escalated to the Chairmans's office, but what do they expect when they make communicating with someone who can take ownership of the problem so bloody difficult. Lets see what happens

This is a kind of Swedish McDonalds, only the food is really good.

The main dishes are Herring on crispbread with red onion and dressing, Herring on ryebread with salad and dressing, Herring burger with salad, Herring and mash wrap. I liked everything except for the mash, but then as a child in the the 1960s I was forced to eat school mash which has left me unable to bear the stuff ever since.

I see several of you bloggers have done this so here is my contribution

1. Being made to queue up for endless checks at airports

2. Reality TV shows

3. Sport of almost any kind

4. Housework

5. Andy Warhol

6. Work time learning sessions

7. DIY

8. Most men's general interest magazines like GQ or FHM for example

9. Anything to do with management theory

10. maths

The happy crew's return trip to Sweden got off to an incredibly early start thanks to Ryanair messing our flights around. At half past three in the morning I was being patted down by a security idiot because I'd inadvertantly touched the knife arch and set it off as I went through, having avoided taking my shoes off by following someone who had.

Despite the hour the flight was quite pleasant, which I suspect was more to do with sleeping through part of it, hower Ryanair seem to have toned down both the irritating audio adds for phonecards and drinks and the glaring blue and yellow contrasts of the cabin interior since we last used them which was nice.

Having caught the bus from Skavska to Stockholm's bus terminal we met the lovely Mira and once embraces were exchanged we hopped on the Metro to Gamla Stan to find our hotel.

We hadn't told the Powder Monkey wheree we were staying, but she expressed no surprise when we approched the Malardrottningen yacht on the quayside and went onboard to have "a look", but her expression changed to one of complete surprise and delight when the penny dropped that this was her hotel. It made the early morning worth it.

The Malardrottningen was built in the 1920's as a private yacht for Woolworth heiress and original poor little rich girl Barbara Hutton. During World War II she sold her to the Royal Navy for £1 and she eventually ended up moored on the quayside of Stockholm's Lake Malaren as a floating hotel. The cabins are a bit cramped as you would expect, but nicely furnished with lots of teak and brass.

So with bags dropped we headed off for a kebab lunch from the Jerusalem Restaurant, which thanks to the glorios weather we were able to eat outside before heading back to the yacht for a freshen up. Feeling by then a bit more human we headed down to Slussen to get the ferry to Skanson (45 SEK, but make sure you have the exact money as the ferry company will not give change)

Mab and Nick have posted some pictures from the Skanson open air museum (90 SEK)It was good to see the wonderful animals of Scandanavia, especially the lynx who was prowling about her enclosure and trying to creep up on the various birds foolhardy enough to visit. There were also some very cute lambs and baby reindeer.

Next stop was Mira's flat where our hostess made some yummy spelt bread before taking us out to watch the sunset over Stockholm from a local vantage point, before returning for a delicious salmon teryaki and some civilised conversation.