OK, I'm doing it!

How long have we had Chip and Pin in this country now? Well I'll tell you, it started around 2004, but the key day when cardholders had to be ready to use their PIN was 14th February 2006. So we have been using it regularly for a good four years now.

So why are we still being treated like PIN novices? Go to a supermarket till, and the cashier will scan all your items, then cheerfully announce the (usually frighteningly large) amount that you owe. You put your card in the PIN pad, and stand there with fingers poised. Then, when the machine tells you to "Enter PIN" you start to do just that.

It is usually around the time you press the second digit that the cashier chirps up "Can you pop your PIN in for me please?" Which makes me want to scream maniacally "I'm doing it!"

Even worse is those badly rehabilitated speak your weight machines - the self-service till. The carefully chosen anodyne voice of these tills will tell you to put your PIN in, sometime around the time you are re-sheathing your precious card, and tell you to remove your card sometime around the exit door.

Surely after 4 years of familiarity it would be reasonable for these machines, both mechanical and human, to only gently remind you about your PIN if you are manifestly not supplying it.

As a sideline, Mr Grumpy's recent experience at a car hire shed in Spain was a bit different. Some of my older readers will remember when credit cards used to be imprinted on hard toilet paper in a finger crushing machine. Well, in Spain I handed over my credit card and the man behind the desk solemnly got out his bit of toilet paper, laid it over my card and rubbed all over it with the end of a retracted ballpoint, like a brass-rubbing.

I called it Chap and Pen

Charity stays at home for far too long

I would be the first to admit that I don't know much about charity fund raising. But the economics and psychology of doorstep collection sacks completely defeat me.

At very regular intervals collection sacks are pushed through our door, presumably by volunteers from a range of charities. Recent ones have been Marie Curie and the British Heart Foundation. These sacks appeal for items that can be sold in their shops, and promise that they will be collected – full or empty – a few days later.

Most times when we receive these sacks we have nothing to give them – we are quite efficient at donating surplus stuff to our local Cornwall Hospice Care shop – if only to get it out of the house as promptly as possible! So the sacks go straight back on the doorstep for the promised collection.

And there they sit, for weeks at a time until we get fed up and throw them away.

Now, if ever we had stuff to donate we could use one of these sacks couldn't we?? Well no, because I would be afraid that our donated items would similarly sit on the doorstep for weeks at a time – presumably until we got fed up and took them to Cornwall Hospice Care.

Now, I can only presume that these sacks cost something to produce. And I presume that the cost of this production has to be met from the general funds of the charity. And if the sacks are never collected they never generate an income, and are a total waste of the charity's funds.

So what is it all about? Why do the charities do this? In my experience quite a few charities distribute the sacks, and almost none collect them. I would love to know the answer to this, because at the moment it just makes Mr Grumpy grumpy!

Seeing red

Well, you know how it is. When you start these things you have some ideas, and then after an initial flurry you suddenly don't have any ideas!

Yesterday Paul wished Mr Grumpy a happy birthday and I told him I was having a day off for my birthday - but really I had no ideas! Mr Grumpy was happy.

Then, late in the delay, a beautiful Scottish lady (Hi Annie) told me she liked my blog, so I had to come up with some inspiration, and finally at 11pm I saw red.

Red Onions!

By what law of the universe has it been declared in recent years that the staple diet of the entire population is the red onion? You just cannot eat out anywhere sensible without being assaulted by a deluge of the pungent globes.

Even something basic and ancient like a ploughman's comes with a little pile of sad looking garnish these days - and nestling in the fragrant green leaves, just behind the limp bit of sliced tomato is - the red onion pile. (Incidentally I gather the ploughman's was invented by the Milk Marketing Board in about 1920)

Now, those of you who like red onions may wonder what the problem is. But I detest red onions! No - to be fair, I am not racist. Colour is not the issue. It is raw onions I hate. It is merely the dictates of fashion that determine the red skinned variety as the target of my ire. I imagine some connoisseur will tell me that there are subtle differences in the cocktail of flavinoids, but as far as I am concerned they are equally detestable.

OK, I have to admit, many places are quite amenable to being asked to leave them out. The Deli in Camborne - no problem. Even Wetherspoons were happy to comply - although a moment of confusion arose when the server realised I hadn't actually ordered anything containing red onions - a rare achievement! Many other places however look on such a request as the outpourings of a deranged mind. Or even worse, they advise you that the salad has already been made up - for the week!

BUT WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO ASK???? Why should I have to remember that I will always get red onions unless I ask not to? Has it been declared by some benign government that we must have them for our health perhaps?? No, can't be. They tried to put flouride in our water but the outrage that such a proposal generated was scarily impressive. I wonder if the same outrage would have been generated if they had tried to apply red onion extract to our domestic water instead?

There is one class of eaterie where one can be fairly safe from such an onslaught - the gourmet restaurant. When you order larks tongues lovingly drizzled with aspic you get them on a bed of finely chopped endive and rocket, not red onion. And the terrine of lightly poached sucking termite's nostrils can usually be guaranteed free of the dreaded ingredient.

But wait - what do we find in such a restaurant? What does every dish contain whether you like it or not? And readers won't be surprised that I hate it just as much - GARLIC!

Aha - the answer at last! The plague of the red onion is a cosmopolitan Britain's answer to the plague of garlic. We felt that we needed to emulate the French but we just couldn't bring ourselves to do it their way - so we found something else to pervade everything with.

Where can I hide?

Changed colour

Gone green??? Well, my son Andy told me the pink didn't suit me. I thought it sort of represented a Mr Grumpy-like red mist, but he disagreed

Who am I to argue?

The thorny issue of speed – do we need to be more radical?

I have driven around 600 miles over the weekend, and I have experienced some speed limits that can only have been devised by brain-dead bureaucrats. No other conclusion is possible – they certainly can’t have been inspired by road safety, economics, aesthetics, or any other desirable motivation!

So what is my problem?? Well, where you have a speed limit that bears little relationship to the demands of the road conditions, let’s consider what happens. I contend that the driver spends all his attention trying to stick to the limit and avoid points on his licence, and suspends all use of his critical faculties in his appreciation of the road conditions and requirements of sensible driving.

Consider Plymouth, which is regulated to the hilt, and enforced by bright yellow taxation boxes at every turn. So when you drive through Plymouth you spend much of your attention in sticking rigidly to the speed limit – dare I say even when that limit is higher than the conditions really demand, although to be honest that is never a problem in Plymouth!

A perfect example is the A38 exiting to the west of Plymouth over the toll bridge and through the tunnel. There is a rigidly enforced 30mph limit when 40mph would be much more natural to most drivers. The 30 limit even continues some way onto a semi-urban dual carriageway! Much of the next few miles is regulated to 50mph when 60mph would be far more sensible.

Please don’t get the idea that I am saying all of that road can support 60mph – what I am saying is that drivers should adjust their speed to what is safe – and that falls between 60mph and 40mph on that road. Sticking rigidly to 50mph, which is what happens, is actually too fast for bits of that road!

So do I have a radical solution? Of course I do! I would like to see all speed limits scrapped everywhere, and the emphasis be returned to driving skill. What are we taught about speed in our driving lessons? Stick to the speed limit at all costs – nothing else! Part of the Institute of Advanced Motorists test is to drive a set route as fast as you safely can, and I would like to see that in the main test, possibly as a third phase added to the existing test.

My proposal would require the police to be more present on the roads, and to have football-referee like powers of enforcing “gentlemanly conduct”. Maybe it seems strange to trust out police like that – but 50 years ago it was normal and natural to trust the police.

And in case you think I am mad, consider one of the major speed hazards in many areas – joy riders. Which is more likely to catch a joy rider – a bright yellow tax box or a policeman?

Is it me or is the rest of the world mad?

I went into Asda today, with the simple objective of picking up some photos I ordered online.

I made a wise choice, or so I thought - I went to the counter labelled "Photo Desk"

When the nice lady asked if she could help me I said I wanted to collect an order, would she like my reference number.

"In a bit, I need to log on first" says she. So I wait, and wait, and wait. It must be some impressive security with the number of things she has to type, but eventually she asks for the order number, and I quote my 9 digit number from the email I had received.

"No, that's not right", says she, "you need a number starting 01". "Well, it's the only one I have" say I defensively. "There must be another" she says, but I plead anxiously that it really is the only one I have, so with a heavy sigh she tries it anyway. Neither of us are surprised when it fails. I check the email carefully on my phone, and even show her the phone, which she looks at a bit like the sole of my shoe.

Sniffing in a superior manner she turns. "George" she says "chap here has an order with an invalid number" as if it were my fault. George takes my phone suspiciously and peers at it at some length. And finally he pronounces "Ah, it's a photo order".

"Oh right" says my original protagonist "you want a photo order. I thought you were after a furniture order". "Well", said I, feeling as if I should apologise, "this is a photo counter"

"Yes" says the accusing woman "but we do Asda Direct orders here too" as if any fool should have known that.

So is it me??? Or is it the rest of the world?

Integrated Transport Policy? HUH!

OK, so I decided that integrated transport policy is the way to go. And I started out - in a modest way.

Case study one - a shopping trip to Falmouth. The easy and lazy way is a car trip. 2.5 miles round trip - £1 at government approved rates - and 3 hours in the Quarry car park - £2.50. So that is £3.50 for two people.

The bus must compete with that surely?? And if we walk in to town (a 1.7 mile walk the less-hilly way) we can save money AND get fit.

Having walked into town and spent a happy time wandering the shops we headed back for the bus. We had to wait 45 minutes for it, so we had a cup of tea in Wetherspoons right by the bus stop, but it wouldn't be fair to add that to the cost would it?

Eventually we caught the bus - and the cost for two tickets one way was - £3.60!

So much for the fit and green approach

Case study two - a trip for two to Truro

The only "approved" integrated transport method is to drive to the Park and Ride at Threemilestone (the other side of the city from Falmouth) and get the bus to the city centre. The cost is 22 miles return or £8.80 at government approved rates, plus £2.40 for the park and ride bus - £11.20

But it has to make sense to use the train surely. Day return for two is £6.80. Unfortunately the station is 3/4 of a mile out of the city (up a hill which one could do without when laden with shopping on your return) so the bus helps out - cost £3 for two people. So we are up to £9.80. At least that is cheaper!

However, there is a better approach surely! The Park and Ride bus stops at the station and is only £2.40 return for two people. Only a 60p saving, but it is frequent, and designed for the job. And yes, you can use it for this bit of the journey, but only if you have already bought a ticket two miles away at the park and ride car park! Huh???

So on this occasion public transport wins, but I am glossing over the fact that at the home end the station is 0.6 miles away, with a nasty sharp hill in each direction. In fact the final hill climb on the way home is a real killer for Mr Grumpy.

There is a bus from outside our door to Falmouth, and Falmouth to Truro, but given that the Falmouth leg will cost us £7.20 return I don't even think I will begin to go there!

So there you have it. Integrated transport??? Try again Cornwall! Until you do I shall stick with my car.

Mr Grumpy

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