Blathr Wayne Lorentz

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Showing blathrs with the tag “🇬🇧.”

Iʼm all sixes and sevens

Monday, October 17th, 2022 Alive 18,801 days

Hereʼs my million dollar idea.

Iʼll open an antiques store in the Cotswolds called ”Everything is five pounds.”

Which means that everything either costs £5.00, or weighs five pounds.

So if I have a knackered silver-plate vesta case, that would cost £5.00.

But if after a rummage in a skip, if I found one that I was really chuffed about, I would put it in a box with a brick, and charge £85.00 because the package as a whole weighs five pounds.

My slogan would be “I have no idea what I have.”

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Thereʼs a frog in your throat

Sunday, October 16th, 2022 Alive 18,800 days

A Fortnum & Mason chocolate toad

For Halloween this year, my wife bought me a chocolate toad.

This is no cheap injection-moulded Hershey-grade nosh. This is a hefty hopper, decorated to a level of realism that is startling, if youʼre not expecting it to be there when you open the refrigerator door.

Mr. Toad is from the Fortnum & Mason department store in London. The confection connection between chocolate, amphibians, and Britannia may put you in mind of the fictional chocolate frogs from Harry Potter. The difference is those are in movies, and this is in my kitchen.

It weighs almost half a pound, and Iʼm not sure how I'm going to eat it. I have no problem biting the heads off of Easter bunnies. They look like cartoons. But this knobby indulgence has sugary eyes that look straight into your soul.

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I would try, too

Friday, September 16th, 2022 Alive 18,770 days

Queue status screenshot from Sky News

80 brazillion people stood in line for a day, or more, just to see The Queen's coffin for 15 seconds.

Things like this put the “great” into Great Britain.

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God save the King

Friday, September 16th, 2022 Alive 18,770 days

A screenshot from Sky News of King Charles Ⅲ greeting well-wishers in Cardiff, Wales

40 brazillion people turned out to cheer King Charles Ⅲ during his brief visit to Wales today.

So much for the chattering anti-royalists who scream into their internet echo chamber that the monarchy is both widely and deeply despised in the land of the red dragon.

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Agree, and be ignored

Thursday, September 15th, 2022 Alive 18,769 days

Screenshot of the ITV News app

The ITV News app does not allow you to reject cookies. Not even optional ones. The only choice you have is to agree to its folksy question “You ok [sic] with our use of cookies?”

Another screenshot from the FAILed ITV News app

But, wait — it gets worse. Even if you accept the cookies, all that happens is the over-friendly “Agreed!” button gets greyed out. You never actually get to proceed to the ITV News app.

As the Brits say, it's “not fit for purpose.”

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I was saving it… for later

Wednesday, September 14th, 2022 Alive 18,768 days

Harrodʼs #08: Knightsbridge Roast.

Since Iʼm going to spend most of the morning watching Queen Elizabethʼs cortège on Sky News, I guess itʼs time to tuck into my Harrodʼs Knightsbridge Roast #08.

Unlike The Queen, who was a very strong woman, this coffee is rather weak. Itʼs very much diner coffee, similar to that which is served by the Omelete House in Las Vegas. Which was the last restaurant in which Jerry Lewis ate.

Perhaps it's only appropriate. The coffee is as weak as tea. And tea would have been a more appropriate choice this morning.

A still frame of the Queen's cortège from Sky News.
Iʼm watching on Sky because it is the only British broadcaster with an AppleTV app that's available in the United States.
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A life in transit

Sunday, August 7th, 2022 Alive 18,730 days

My retired transportation cards

I have a bad habit of holding on to transportation cards; especially if they have leftover money still loaded on them.

  • Ventra (Chicago)

    The grey Ventra card was the first one. It also functioned as a MasterCard debit card with the idea that it could be of benefit to poor people and the many thousands of Chicagoans who canʼt or donʼt have a bank account. That didn't really work out, and eventually it was migrated into the more common blue transit card.

    Amazingly, I was able to use the blue Ventra card on my most recent trip to Chicago. It had about eight dollars on it when I last used it, and 11 years later, that money was still available, and it worked fine. It turns out that it doesnʼt expire for 25 years.

  • Akbil (Istanbul)

    More durable than a card, and you can hang it on a keychain, I got an akbil to get around Istanbul. The akbil system has since transitioned to a boring plastic card like most of the rest of the world, and the money that I had left on this has now expired.

  • Amtrak (United States)

    This was just a rewards card, like a frequent flyer card. I earned quite a few points going back-and-forth between Chicago and Saint Louis; Seattle and Vancouver; Saint Paul and Chicago. But since Amtrak discontinued service to Las Vegas, I stopped using it and the points expired.

  • Oyster (London)

    I think this is the oldest of the bunch. I have no idea if thereʼs any money left on it.

  • Orca (Seattle)

    Orca bills itself as a single payment solution for getting around the entire Puget Sound area. But I seem to recall that it wasn't actually accepted everywhere. That may have been fixed by now, but I seem to recall that when I was using it, it was only valid on ferries, and Sound Transit buses and trains. I remember using paper transfer tickets on Seattle city buses.

    I have no idea if thereʼs any money on this one, either.

  • Do It All (Singapore)

    This card is supposed to do it all. I don't know if it did. I only used it on trains, and perhaps a cable car to Sentosa Island.

    Thereʼs probably money left on it, if it hasnʼt expired.

  • Octopus (Hong Kong)

    I've noticed that a lot of transit cards are named after sea creatures.

    I had money on it, but that was probably forcibly expired as Hong Kong was crushed under the mainlandʼs thumb. At least I still have my Hong Kong money with the image of Queen Elizabeth Ⅱ on it.

  • T-Money (Seoul)

    A good number of transit cards are also positioned as general-purpose payment cards. My observation was that T-Money achieved this most thoroughly, and early.

    It seemed like you could use T-Money anywhere in Seoul. Its acceptance was probably wider than even Visa or MasterCard.

    Since T-Money is more like a bank account than a transit card, there's probably money left on it.

  • Suica (Japan)

    Suica is one of two major transportation cards in use in Tokyo, and adjacent areas of Japan. The other one is Pasmo.

    How to choose between the two? Easy — Pick the one with the cute penguin on it.

    Suica has a unique set-up process, where you can create your account and login at the ticket vending machine, and it prints your name on the back of the card. Pretty nifty.

    Thereʼs very likely money on this one, since itʼs not that old.

  • Zipcard (United States)

    When I lived in cities where I didnʼt need a car all the time, I used ZipCar to bring home major purchases that wouldnʼt fit on transit, or to take longer trips.

    The interesting thing about the ZipCar process is that you tap the card on the car to unlock it and get the keys.

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Monday, March 8th, 2021 Alive 18,213 days

Harry and Meghan: “We had no idea about the pressure.”

Also Harry and Meghan: “Harryʼs mom died because of the pressure!”

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Monday, March 8th, 2021 Alive 18,213 days

Harry and Meghan: “We don't want to work for the royal family.”

Also Harry and Meghan: “They took away our paychecks!”

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Friday, February 12th, 2021 Alive 18,189 days

“China flu” — Racist

“U.K. variant” — Somehow not racist

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“Moist”

Saturday, July 4th, 2020 Alive 17,966 days

I miss the trees of Texas.

I miss a lot of the natural things of Texas. The Brazos River. The Spanish moss. The 5:00am humidity that turns the skyline into a grey silhouette just before sunrise. The marshes of Jackson. The swamps of Orange. I think the common thread is the moisture.

I miss moisture. I sometimes watch British “lifestyle” television shows (Bargain Hunt, Flog It, Coast, Countryfile, etc.), and it always seems to be raining there. The people on the screen donʼt seem to notice it, but I just marvel at all that water. All those trees. All that moisture.

Itʼs been about 200 days since it last rained here. Monsoon season should start in a few weeks to deliver our two inches for the year. When it rains, I often join my neighbors outside and we stare into the sky like confused turkeys.

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Saturday, July 28th, 2018 Alive 17,259 days

How bad is political correctness in Britain? A Wikipedia entry mentioning pirate broadcasters calls them “undocumented radio stations.”

Up next: Burglars are “undocumented homeowners.”

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Saturday, September 6th, 1997 Alive 9,629 days

Good news: The toiletries I bought at Harrodʼs work. Bad news: I didnʼt get up early enough to be first into the shared bathroom. Maybe I shouldnʼt have left my headboard tuned to classical music all night.

The soap is unremarkable, but the shampoo is great. Instead of coming in a cheap plastic tube like Iʼm used to, it comes in a tall, slender ceramic bottle with a metal screw-on cap. Very classy. The bottle is the same off-yellow/mustard color as my hotelʼs carpeting, but the label is a bit more orangish. It proclaims “Geo F. Trumper” which has apparently been around for over a hundred years.

In another surprise, the shampoo isnʼt a thick, viscous goo like American shampoo. It comes out freely, like water. But a tiny capful still lathers up as vigorously as a handful of American stuff. Iʼm starting to think that Iʼm paying for a bunch of filler when I buy Suave at home.

Todayʼs task: See London without being seen. Dianaʼs funeral is today, and Iʼm not sure what to expect from a nation in mourning. I expect lots of things will be closed, so itʼs probably a good day to go to parks and squares and other outdoor places.

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Friday, September 5th, 1997 Alive 9,628 days

I went to Harrodʼs today. Not because Iʼm fancy, but because the rooming house Iʼm staying in doesnʼt have toiletries. In fact, I donʼt even have my own toilet. I have to use a shared bathroom down the hall from me, like in a dorm or a youth hostel.

One benefit of being excited about being in a new country for the first time is that I woke up early and was able to shower before anyone else stirred. But I donʼt have any soap or shampoo with me, so Iʼm relying on cold water and Right Guard to keep me socially acceptable.

I picked Harrodʼs as my first destination because it advertises “Omnia Omnibus Ubique,” which means “Everything for everyone everywhere.” Well, Iʼm someone and somewhere, so it made sense to see if it really has “everything.”

Good news: It does.

Right on the ground floor near the entrance I found a little wood-paneled salon featuring menʼs grooming supplies. I picked up a bar of very normal-looking soap, which was a relief because I was afraid of a repeat of the Budapest red soap issue. I also got a bottle of shampoo. I picked it because Iʼm not going to be in London for a month, and it was the smallest bottle.

Harrodʼs is clearly a special place. All of the salespeople were very nice and attentive. They were also super patient with me, and happy to cash my American Express travelerʼs checks. But there is a sadness at Harrodʼs. I couldnʼt quite put my finger on it until I came across the central escalator area. There, between the up and down options was a gilded easel with a big portrait of Princess Diana on it. People were standing around, seemingly at a loss for what to do. It was so quiet, you could hear the hum-clack hum-clack of the escalators — not something that happens in department stores.

A few people had violated the velvet rope barrier to lay flowers on the floor, and I imagine if the easel was of the correct height, they lay where her feet would have been.

I wonder if thatʼs why London seems… less vibrant than I thought it might be. I wasnʼt expecting New York, but I wasnʼt expecting a place as quiet as Vienna. Iʼm sure not everyone feels the same about what happened, but if enough people feel a certain way, itʼs contagious, and can cast a subconscious pall over a city. I should try to be more patient with my mustachioed hostess, and perhaps more grateful for the Harrodʼs store clerks demonstrating their British stiff upper lip. Time to make myself inconspicuous.

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Thursday, September 4th, 1997 Alive 9,627 days

My hotel is… not quite what I expected it to be. But at the same time, it is familiar because I have been known to watch British shows on PBS.

Itʼs less of a “hotel” and more like a “rooming house.”

It looks like a converted brownstone, like the ones I know from Brooklyn. The main entrance brings you immediately into what can only be described as a shabby living room about the size of a small bedroom. Thereʼs a decrepit television teetering on a spindly-legged television cart. The cart is firmly embedded in what was once yellow shag carpeting, but is now a mustard-colored fluff with goat paths revealing the backing. The perimeter of the living room (I guess “sitting room” is the correct term) is lined with the kind of overstuffed armchairs you often see next to trash cans on the side of the road.

At the (not very) far end of the living room, a hole has been cut into the wall and thereʼs a counter with a small magazine and a lady with a better-formed mustache than I will ever produce. Whatever the British equivalent of an unlit Lucky Strike hangs from the corner of her mouth. Sheʼs not interested in my credit card, she wants British pounds, but we settle on American Express travelerʼs checks because thatʼs what I have, and I donʼt think sheʼs in a position to turn down someone staying as long as I am. I think I overpaid, but like with Grumpy Grammarian at the train station, I just have to take her word for it.

The room is fine. Itʼs not up to American standards, but I didnʼt expect it to be. However, itʼs not up to Austrian standards, either. I guess the same way a hotel in Mingo County, West Virginia isnʼt going to be of the same standard as one in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. Still, this is London, so I expected it to look a little less like a 2am black-and-white movie.

Itʼs arranged galley-style, meaning deep and narrow. At the far end is a window. It doesnʼt open, and isnʼt clean enough for me to see through. For all I know, it may have a direct view into the private doings at Buckingham Palace. But more likely, itʼs a well-lit brick wall.

The bed is oddly narrow, like a college dorm bed. And thereʼs a radio conveniently built into the headboard. It has two knobs. One for power/volume. The other turns to positions labeled 1, 2, 3, and 4. Station 1 seems to be all about the weather in places Iʼve never heard of; which makes sense since Iʼve learned from PBS that the Brits are obsessed with the weather. Station 2 plays Duran Duran. Station 3 is classical music. Station 4 doesnʼt seem to work.

There is no television in the room. I guess Iʼm supposed to watch TV in the sitting room downstairs. Iʼll try to remember to bring a newspaper with me, because it appears the correct way to watch TV in a British boarding house is to lay back as far as you can and put a newspaper over your face while you snore.

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