Jane Wenham-Jones's Blog, page 11

Plain Jane 191214: The season to be jolly… and moany

Original photograph by Bill Harris

OUR columnists Jane Wenham-Jones and Mike Pearce don’t need a certain supermarket to remind them that Christmas is for sharing.

Every year, she gets out her sparklers, he dusts off his baubles, and they get together to wish you a joyful Christmas.

This year, they look at having fun – whether you’re a Jolly Jane or a Moany Mike.

Carols

Jane: Carols make Christmas. Whether it’s the Salvation Army in the High Street or the Thanet Male Voice Choir in The White Swan pub.

I don’t get to church very often but I like a decent sing-song when I do. Midnight mass is an uplifting way to start the festivities – if one is still awake by then.

A plea our good reverends: candles not light bulbs? The last time I went to a certain church late on Christmas eve, it was lit up like a supermarket.

NB If you can find a spare child take them to Christingle – a recent survey shows that one in five children think Jesus Christ plays for Chelsea!

Mike: It doesn’t matter which carol service you choose, there will always be a bloke in the pew behind you who is a bellowing bull, a Pavarotti wannabe.

He will be with a screech-owl woman, sounding like a Spice Girl in a cat fight. Try starting each verse a second early – throws ‘em every time.

Presents

Jane: Should just be for kids. We all spend too much on things nobody really wants or needs, but were handily on offer (after Black Friday the whole nation is getting a coffee machine or electric toenail clippers).

But if you insist, consumables are best and won’t require a declutter. Champagne, chocolates, bath oil or perfumed candles will usually hit the spot (it’s not too late – my birthday’s next month).

Mike: Infuriate any intelligent relatives you’re not too keen on by giving them a Russell Brand book.

As with all things, the pleasure is in the anticipation, so raise expectations among teenagers by putting socks in an enticing Apple Store bag.

For ghastly kids, stick a Cilla Black CD in a One Direction cover.

Visiting friends

Jane: Is the antidote to all those relatives. Be generous and helpful, take a nice gift and a moment to remember how lucky you are to have people in your life who are not from the same gene pool.

Mike: Arriving in a haze of alcohol fumes and incontinence is poor form, but effective.

Sneezing or scratching guarantees you can get away with an early exit. Explain you have only popped in for a minute on your way to somewhere fabulous.

Pantomime

Jane: Brings me out in a rash. To be attended only under duress, when one has small children in tow, and a hip flask about one’s person.

I hate audience participation. Oh yes I do… etc.

Mike: If you’re dragged along, cheer the villain, boo the good guys.

I tried it once and the embarrassed lady I was with banished me to the bar. Result!

Think of it this way – The more boos, the more booze…

Festive Fare

 Photo by Bill Harris

Jane: Last year after a late change of plan, I got the turkey at 4pm on Christmas Eve. What a bargain!

Days “between the years” can offer up good reductions too. Don’t buy too much of anything – not only will it get wasted (who actually eats nuts and dates and marzipan biscuits in the shape of a reindeer when they’ve already pigged out on roast potatoes and pudding?) and cost a fortune but you need to run out of something for an excuse to get out of the house (relatives! Remember?).

Mike: Have fun getting a month’s worth of supplies on December 10.

Yes, I know that’s too late for this year, but remember it for next time.

Stuff your pantry, stuff your freezer and stuff the do-everything-at-the-last-minute laggards who grizzle about aisles packed tighter than Santa’s stockings.

If there’s one thing better than being stocked-up for Christmas, it’s being smug.

Fun presents for each other

Jane: This year I’m giving dear old Mike his own Himalayan Goat, a “Save Manston” T-shirt and recognition in the Hall of Fame at Turner Contemporary (he lives in hope of a kiss under the mistletoe with Iris Johnston, but as I always tell him, he can’t have everything…).

Mike: A pile of her novels piled high in prime position at Waterstone’s. Or better still, an empty shelf, where they were stacked before they were all snapped up.

Right, that’s more than enough goodwill for one Christmas.

Have a happy one, from us both xx

***

You can read the original article at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/season-jolly-moany/story-25738188-detail/story.html#ixzz3MOBuBKlh

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Plain Jane 121214: Make a list

I DON’T know whether they teach this in journalism school – I am entirely self-taught (also known as untrained ) – but it is a truth commonly recognised among hacks that when columnists have nothing to say, they fall back on three tactics.

They either: refer to a letter (generally made up) from a reader complaining about something; they look on Google to see if it is National Something Day and if it isn’t they make one of those up (or invent a survey that found it should be); or, they produce a List. While being in the fortunate position of having some real missives of displeasure to choose from (dog poo not being cleared up, Manston not being reopened, street lamps not being turned on so that at two in the morning one stumbles into the dog poo) and perfectly ready to defend the need for a ‘Stop Talking About How You’ve Finished* Your Christmas Day Shopping Before I Scream’ Day and find three people to agree with me, the one I favour most is the creation of ten ways / facts / things you never knew. This is because we are a nation of list-lovers: something I learned from the Times Newspaper who recently devoted an entire magazine to the subject in the wake of BuzzFeed – a website crammed with lists – being valued at 850 million dollars. That’s a lot of paper and pens. Which is what a proper list is all about. While I’ve done the topical cataloguing myself – 20 Strategies for Surviving Yuletide; Fifteen Things to Remember at Easter; Eleven-and-a-half Handy Time-Saving-Tips for all; Thanet councillors I could imagine being married to without slitting my wrists (that was a short one) – and have written an entire book with 100 Ways in its title (my esteemed colleague, Mike-Bah-Humbug-Pearce, keeps his own list of how many times I mention this), my favourite sort is the one you write by hand and do a lot of ticking off on. Namely: the To Do List. Because I seriously do not know how people without one manage. Therefore, in the absence of National Make a List Day – where’s an anniversary when you need one? – I give you Ten Top Reasons why writing it all down is a joy:

There is something endlessly seductive about a blank sheet of paper and a new pen. (I like those green fibre-tip italic ones, if Berol could come up trumps on a product placement deal.)
It maintains the illusion that you’re almost, in some semblance of, control.
The warm feeling of smugness you get from crossing a task off when completed.
The chance to add things you’ve already done, just for the above.
Because one’s memory isn’t what it used to be and if it’s not written down it won’t happen. ( A state of affairs that started with pregnancy and that was decades ago.)
You’d deprive your spouse of scrawling “make another list” at the bottom, and after 25 years, still thinking it’s funny.
Because you’d forget someone’s Christmas present if you didn’t.
And 90 per cent of the birthdays.
Because if you shop without one you get home with a till receipt for £106.72 but not the tube of tomato puree you went out for.
While you’re writing it down, you don’t actually have to do it…

* No, since you ask, I haven’t.

Out now! 100 Ways to Fight the Flab – and still have wine and chocolate. On kindle, e formats and in paperback.

Read the original article at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/Plain-Jane-Make-list/story-25699040-detail/story.html#ixzz3LnidRJQV.

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Plain Jane 281114 – 3D pregnancy scanning

I THINK I know this area pretty well, but from time to time I am surprised to discover somewhere in Thanet I had no idea existed.

So it was two Saturdays ago when I ventured forth to Bodysym, tucked away behind Tesco, in St Lawrence High Street, hailed as a centre for “physiotherapy and injury management” but offering very much more.

Matt Baker and Craig Hayle, the nice young men who run the joint, are physiotherapists who take a holistic approach. Hence the centre offers yoga and pilates, aromatherapy and reflexology, as well as half a dozen kinds of massage and podiatry.

I was there at the invitation of my friend Helen French to look at the latest service offered – the Ultrasound Centre! Helen, together with five other radiographers trained in sonography, has brought 3D and 4D pregnancy scanning to Thanet for the first time. For the uninitiated, this gives you remarkable images of your unborn child that you can take away as photographs or as a film on DVD, so vivid in clarity and detail that it is hard to believe the baby is still in the womb. Of particular benefit for bonding purposes, reassurance, and the social inclusion of younger siblings, fathers, grannies and in-laws, you can also pop your footage up on Facebook for Auntie Matilda in Australia to get a preview of the forthcoming arrival and many, of course, do.

I was keen to have a go. In the absence of a foetus to ooh and ahh over, we looked at my vital organs instead. Helen smiled as I got on the bed. “You could be brave and let us loose on…” I knew what was coming. I make no secret of the fact that I imbibe in excess of government guidelines (which are increasingly stringent I find – suddenly there are ten units of alcohol to a bottle of wine whereas once there were six) and I must admit to a small frisson of anxiety as I lay back and had the gel applied to my middle, while half a dozen people gathered round to watch.

There was a stunned silence in the room as the probe was passed over my liver. I still had one! Helen laughed as I craned my neck to get a look. “It’s fine,” she said, a hint of astonishment underpinning her professional tones. So, as it happens, were my kidneys and aorta. “You haven’t had breakfast,” she stated accurately, noting that my gall bladder was still full of bile (to be released once there was food to be digested) “and you don’t need a wee, do you?” Fascinating stuff. Not as enthralling as the babies kicking and sucking their thumbs, but a worthwhile outing for the worried well. Or simply the worried. (I take the credit for saving the life of a dear friend by advising him to get his abdominal aorta screened after his mother collapsed and died from an aneurysm. He was later operated on and lives to tell the tale.) Especially as you can self-refer and get your innards checked over for the price of a decent restaurant dinner.

While I was there, Jane Daulton, a local resuscitation trainer, pitched up to give the annual life-support session, so I had a go at that too. Now, should you collapse at my feet, I know how to give you chest compressions, and for how long, can attempt to dislodge a blockage from your choked throat and then put you in the recovery position. I thought I’d be squeamish, but found it all rather gripping. Sometimes one discovers things in oneself one never knew existed. Like a working hepatic organ.

For more information see http://www.bodysym.co.uk or call 01843 590067.

***

Read the original at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/baby-liver-s-fine/story-24828950-detail/story.html

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Plain Jane 191114: Every Lidl helps

MALE friends won’t believe me, but I don’t much like shopping. Not for me “a day out” at Bluewater, or an afternoon “just looking” at Westwood Cross. The mere thought of Canterbury brings me out in a rash.

I go to retail parks when I absolutely have to (you can’t get it in the High Street and it’s too late for online).

And I stick with devotion to the same (small) supermarkets. I’ve been a Waitrose woman for over 25 years (both food and staff are lovely) with occasional forays to Asda (cheaper wine and flowers) or the Broadstairs Co-op (handy to shoot into at half past five, when one’s run out of crisps).

I loathe great big stores – I have been known to abandon a trolley and run screaming from the Tesco at Westwood – and have only managed to tour the whole of Ikea because the cafe is licensed.

So you would not expect me to get particularly excited because the Ramsgate Aldi has been extended. I was there, dear reader, at 8 am. I have had a fascination with the new breed of cheap supermarket since Lidl won an award for their cut-price champagne and the middle classes were caught flocking there in their 4x4s to buy smoked salmon.

“Have you been?” I asked my sister. “Oh yes!” she declared, as I knew she would. My older sibling is a one-woman, walking equivalent of a price-comparison site. Name a product, and she will tell you where you can get it cheapest. I am thinking of hiring her out by the hour. I could make a fortune, while you save one. I took a deep breath. “Take me,” I said.

Thus began the tradition of what has become known as the “Lidl Breakfast” whereby we meet early, I gasp my way round a bargain store of some description, and then we go to a cafe for eggs on toast.

We frequently have the shops to ourselves at that hour, but on re-opening day, we arrived at the newly enlarged Boundary Road store to find the car park full and a party atmosphere. There were balloons and a stall with free samples and bacon rolls. Inside, there were dozens of Aldi Big Brass, suited and booted, standing near the brilliant flowers (gorgeous roses, only £2 a bunch) and talking to each other. My sister tutted. “They should be giving out vouchers,” she said, “not ignoring us.”

I suppose when you are buying biscuits for pennies you can’t expect “Did you find everything you needed, Madam?” too, but even “Good morning” would have been a start.

Instead, my sister walked me round Aldi pointing out bargains. “See those cleansing wipes?” she said. “64p. Do you know how much Simple ones are? Over three quid.” I obediently put some in my trolley. I also bought bottles of montepulciano – excellent value at £3.49 – beer for the boy, tissues at half of what I usually pay and some cut-price cat food.

I suspect, however, that where these stores score, is on the impulse purchase. Carried away by the excitement of vastly reduced cheese straws, I somehow found myself buying frozen quails and a box of Coquille St Jacques (last time I went to Lidl I came out with a set of heated, fake-sheepskin, neck and shoulder pads and a plastic broom) and I realise the genius is in mixing in non-bargains with the undeniably cheap, in the hope that nobody really notices that some of it is not the economy one might think.

But they’re now taking credit cards (an improvement) and although I resent tokens for trolleys, at least the smiley girl on the checkout (bosses – you could learn a thing or two from her) gave us some.

The whole trip was, as usual, strangely thrilling, while leaving me with that slight guilty sense I’d been disloyal. Until the next time, Aldi! I’m off to Waitrose…

***

Read the original article at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/Plain-Jane-Lidl-helps/story-24559978-detail/story.html

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Plain Jane 311014: Why prescribing Viagra to all men over 50 could save NHS

Plain Jane 311014: Why prescribing Viagra to all men over 50 could save NHS

GREAT discoveries, it seems, arise from a split second of blinding clarity falling at precisely the right juncture. James Watt may well have forged his fascination with steam as he observed the saucepan lid rise and fall on his mother’s pot of boiling cabbage, while Newton famously, upon feeling an apple clonk against his head, cleverly formed the theory of gravitation.

Clearly these were individuals of genius and, in the normal way, I would have said I were as capable of such brilliance as your average banana. Until last Monday when my own moment of divine realisation came, and in a life-jolting flash of illumination, I solved, in a stroke, the answer to the crisis in the NHS.

I was on BBC Radio Kent’s Breakfast show, with John Warnett and Maggie Doyle, wheeled on to review the papers. Charged with finding four stories on which to comment, I decided for my second slot, to take up the theme of health. The Daily Mail was screaming about “meltdown” in Wales; The Guardian brought the cheering news that there has been a 40% rise in liver disease in the last 12 years (blamed on alcohol consumption, of course) and the Daily Mirror had ground-breaking information to impart about Viagra. Not only, it transpires, does the drug perk a chap up in the downstairs department, but it can also help patients with dicky hearts.

A trial carried out in Italy found that an enzyme inhibitor contained in Viagra, prevented the heart increasing in size and changing shape in patients with left ventricular hypertrophy, and benefited those with other heart conditions too, while maintaining healthy blood pressure. “We found the main ingredient in Viagra can be an effective, safe treatment for heart disease,” summed up Dr Andrea Isidori from Sapienza University in Rome.

Do you see what this means? If every fellow over fifty were prescribed Viagra as a matter of course, heart disease, the country’s biggest killer might be a thing of the past. In addition all that bedroom activity would have a myriad of benefits. Having sex releases endorphins, the feel-good chemicals, so depression and anxiety could also be reduced (one of the most common reasons for time taken off work, and a huge clogger of the GP’s surgeries) and the massive drugs bill for anti-depressants and tranquilisers halved. And because everyone would be happier – this was presenter Maggie Doyle’s contribution and it’s a good one – they would drink less, relieving the pressure on essential medical services brought about by all those clapped-out livers.

I haven’t quite worked out how the health service would cope with the sudden groundswell of older, female patients with chronic headache syndrome, but I’m sure paracetamol is cheaper than a by-pass.

Pfizer, who make Viagra, could quadruple production, increasing employment (maybe even re-opening in Thanet) and providing beneficial knock-on effects to related industries (bed manufacturers, hair dye companies and makers of clothes-more-suited-to-the-younger-man. It is amazing what a spot of unexpected rumpy-pumpy can do to a chap’s view of what constitutes an appropriate wardrobe).

My final news story came from The Times, where the splendid Dame Judi Dench, now approaching 80, was explaining that she keeps her brain young and active by memorising a new poem each day. Maybe a small recital should be required upon the collection of each fresh prescription of the jolly blue pills – thus bolstering the nation’s grey cells and contributing to the fight against Dementia.

So there you’d have it. The NHS snatched back from the jaws of collapse, more money for flu jabs and a pleasing rise in the sale of poetry books. Jeremy Hunt eat your heart out. Perhaps with a small Viagra…

***

Read the original at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/prescribing-Viagra-men-50-save-NHS/story-23837978-detail/story.html

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Lost the Plot? Jane Wenham-Jones’ writing tips for Woman writing competition

janewj:

A month left to enter! And a totally FABULOUS prize. So what are you waiting for? :-) jxx

Originally posted on MorgEn Bailey's Writing Blog:

So you’ve started your novel with great enthusiasm. You’ve finished the first few chapters and don’t know where to go next. Running out of inspiration? Woman writing competition judge Jane Wenham-Jones has good advice for unpublished writers taking part in our search for a new star of women’s contemporary fiction.

Remember there is no “right” way to plot a novel – only what works for you. Some novelists plan everything out meticulously before they write a word, others just start typing. Many – including me – know what’s in the first chapter, have a vision for the end and have a few ideas for the major events along the way, but work out the detail as they go. All are equally valid.

Experiment with different ways of planning. Some writers like to use index cards – with notes for each scene or chapter on separate cards and  keep them neatly…

View original 319 more words

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Plain Jane 171014 – It’s chocolate week

Somewhat after the event, but every day is chocolate day where I come from …. :-)

Plain Jane – It’s National Home Security month, Dyspraxia month…….but never mind that – it’s chocolate week

THERE is nothing like a spot of consciousness-raising. And there’s never been more of it. October alone sees the declaration of a specially-dedicated awareness month for National Home Security, Breast Cancer and Dyspraxia.

It is also a time for National Hate Crime Awareness Week, World No Beard Day, Family Friendly Week, National Spinal Surgery Awareness Day, World Food Day, National Arthritis Week and National Real Vanilla Day.

“We are on a precipice where we could lose pure vanilla within a generation,” says sustainability expert, Patricia Rain. Who knew?

You might be forgiven for thinking that by November, we’ll be on awareness overload, only fit for a good lie-down (lucky then, that it brings National Spa Week so at least you might get a massage while you’re at it) but by then we’ll be busily growing a moustache (Movember), eschewing animal products (National Vegan Month), knocking up tasty fillings (National Sandwich Day) and looking both ways at the traffic lights (Road Safety Week) while jiggling against our hips, any flushed-looking infants that happen to be grizzling nearby (National Teething Week).

All excellent causes, of course, worth getting your head out of a bucket for and taking note, but for a real perking up of one’s senses, I am delighted to share with the uninitiated, that right now (October 13-19) it is Chocolate Week! As the author of a ground-breaking weight loss book promoting the dark stuff as a chief weapon in one’s weight-loss armoury, I am obviously following proceedings with a special interest. I have both bars and a Belgian selection box (M&S – very good!) next to me as I type in order to give my endorphins a regular boost, and further supplies secreted in the writing room fridge – a small but essential piece of office equipment cunningly disguised as the stationery cupboard. In case you have yet to discover the joys and health benefits of cocoa, and all the wonderful justification that brings, let me do my bit for the campaign and enlighten you. Chocolate – the darker the better – contains flavonoids that can help lower blood pressure, and improve blood flow to the brain and heart. Dark chocolate is also a source of vitamins A, C, B6, and 45B12 as well as magnesium, calcium, potassium, copper, and iron. In addition, it contains stearic acid which slows digestion down, which means, handily, a few squares will take a significant edge off your appetite, and leave you feeling fuller for longer. When you are hungry between meals – try sucking a couple of squares of dark chocolate slowly. Even if you end up eating six squares, you’ll only have taken in 125 calories (I am basing this on Green & Black’s 85 per cent dark – bring on that product placement deal), and had a relatively low carb, low sugar snack that will take you through to lunch or dinner a whole lot better than a bag of crisps or a couple of biscuits (which would be more calorific). And be more pleasurable than boiled cabbage and a cup of brown rice (ditto).

In addition, my exhaustive research has revealed that chocolate contains both tryptophan, an essential amino acid that stimulates the production of serotonin – a natural antidepressant – in the brain, and phenylethylamine, a chemical that stimulates the brain’s pleasure centres and creates the sort of feelings we have when in love or having an orgasm. (Easily confused). (NB for my male readers: now do you see the sense in turning up with a large, exotically packaged box of confectionary under one arm?).

To sum up, on this special week, very dark chocolate will not only fill you up, but will cheer you up as well.

Useful, I’m sure you’ll agree, if you are grappling with facial hair, can’t eat dairy products and the baby’s screaming. National Smile Month’s not till next summer.

***

Read more: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/Plain-Jane-s-National-Home-Security-month/story-23222423-detail/story.html

 

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Plain Jane 190914: A megaphone, soapbox, and cheap-suited lackeys needed

Thank you to all those who have suggested that, further to my last column, I stand in the next election myself.

My initial thought – that I would rather gnaw on my own leg – has been tempered by the realisation that “The STB” (Stop the Bo*****s Party) has a certain ring to it and being a candidate would guarantee me entry to the count. (I am most afraid that us humble local hacks – usually to be found in the Winter Gardens at 4am hunched over a curling sandwich and our 15th coffee, as votes are totted up – will be left out in the cold as the national media descends en masse to cast a beady eye over antics a la Nige.)

Clearly my campaign will take a little organisation prior to May 7, and volunteers for Team JWJ should apply soon. I will need a megaphone and a soapbox and some cheap-suited lackeys to scuttle in my wake. Leaflets listing my credentials (on cheek-kissing terms with last three incumbents of South Thanet, taken tour round House of Commons, got a gob the size of Margate Caves – how difficult can this MP lark be?) and sporting a photo in which I look slightly manic. Someone with a degree in media studies who has what it takes to justify the revelation that I actually hate 90 per cent of the electorate but just crave power, when I forget to take my microphone off; and a baby, a feisty pensioner and a rescue dog I can pose with to cover all bases.

Previous experience not necessary. Drinkers welcome – think Man in the Pub as our target vote. The jaded and hard-bitten, come on down.

Oh and a self-made bloke with a heart of gold and a credit card to match, who wants to save the NHS, the sub post-office and spread a little joy, to pay the deposit. Let’s rock.

Hallelujah – Broadstairs and St Peter’s Town Council is discussing the possibility of restoring Retort House in the bottom car park in Broadstairs for use as a community centre. Those of us who campaigned back in 2005 against the felling of trees and spending of vast fortunes to put a whacking great centre up in Pierremont Park that nobody wanted, suggested this right back then. I am very pleased to hear that nine and a half years on, common sense and logic have prevailed (it’s what the STB is all about), but really – what kept you?

Last Friday, I had the hilarious pleasure of interviewing Kathy Lette at the Horsebridge Arts Centre in Whitstable. Kathy, described by the Evening Standard as “the wittiest woman in London”, has lots of killer lines in her new novel Courting Trouble, not all of them suitable for consumption in a family newspaper. One that particularly resonated with me came when a male character described certain women as “All hard stares, high heels and droopy handshakes”. I know exactly what he means. I deplore the modern habit of dangling one’s limp fingers into another’s palm and thinking that passes as a greeting. Women should either content themselves with a haughty raising of a perfectly manicured eyebrow or do a spot of air-kissing if they can’t grasp hands properly.

A warm, firm handshake – a small skill on which I pride myself (with an occasional crunching of the knuckles if I don’t like him much) – should be taught in schools, along with opening doors (both sexes), giving up seats on the bus and offering to carry anything heavy when the bearer of said object is clearly more feeble than oneself. (Being able to open a bottle of champagne with a flourish shows a sensible upbringing too.)

Please take a note, my yet-to-be-appointed campaign manager. It’s going on my manifesto.

*

Read more: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/megaphone-soapbox-cheap-suited-lackeys-needed/story-22950715-detail/story.html. Jane is appearing in the Maltese Falcon from Wednesday to Saturday, September 24 to 27, at 7.30pm at The Red Hall, 11 Grosvenor Rd, Broadstairs. Tickets cost £6 and are available at the door, but seats are limited. To reserve one, ring 01843 604633 or 07989 070843.

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Plain Jane 050914: Of course Nigel Farage won the hustings, he’ll win the election too

Of course Nigel Farage was selected as our UKIP candidate for South Thanet. He was always going to be and I am surprised that those “campaigning against” this inevitability, wanted to give him all the extra publicity. Mr Farage and his cronies must have been rubbing their hands with glee – who needs a campaign manager when you’ve got “Thanet Stand Up to UKIP” plastering your name all over the papers. I firmly predict he will get in too. The Greens and Lib Dems don’t have a hope in hell (and with Ian Driver batting for the former, let us be thankful for small mercies), the Conservative is ex UKIP so what’s the difference (Laura Sandys might just have given NF a run for his money), and Will Scobie is probably a very nice chap but looks as if he should be in school uniform. (Ageism cuts both ways). But it’s not all bad. I am as dismayed as the next woman by the thought of UKIP actually getting some power- even if it’s just the one seat –  but must admit, with my columnist’s hat on, to a small frisson of glee myself at the prospect of the entertainment value. I am only sorry that the local Tories have missed a trick. For maximum hilarity, they need to send the unappealing Craig Mackinlay packing  and bring in Boris.

NO DOUBT Mr Farage will be at pains to tell me, but I’m never quite sure what I feel about “Europe”. If I was pushed to summarise I’d say it’s a good idea badly executed. A bit like Comprehensive Schools or organised religion. Free trade and movement and job opportunities are all fine ideals but look what the French did to our apples and now we’re not even allowed to own a decent vacuum cleaner. Big retailers have announced record sales of the household appliance prior to the new EU ruling against manufacturing or importing cleaners of above 1600 watts (five of the top seven cleaners in a Which? report used more power than this). Apparently they are coming for our hair-dryers next. Who knows where it will all end. Will they ban fast-boiling kettles, quick spinning dryers and the sort of irons that even I can turn out a crease-free shirt with? I am no scientist, but won’t everything just take longer and use up the same amount of electricity in the end? While general productivity falls as we wait around in our damp clothes, with our wet hair, on our crumb-specked carpets, just to get a cup of coffee?

IN CASE anyone else is thinking of throwing their hat into the ring – perhaps starting up the “Common Sense”, “Stop Talking B******cks” or the “What-We-Really-Want” Party, can I say I’m right behind you. For the candidate who pledges to protect our precious NHS while paying nurses properly, stop messing with the education system while teaching basic literacy, show some logic in matters of health and safety (and quit re-calculating the alcohol units till every second granny who likes more than one sherry is a binge drinker), re-open Manston Airport and preserve the sanctity of the sub post office and the local pub, all without robbing the poor, demonizing the rich or being totally short-sighted and annoying –  I am ready to put my cross in your box.

We can, as they say, always dream…

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Read the original at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/Plain-Jane-course-Nigel-Farage-won-hustings-ll/story-22882059-detail/story.html

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Plain Jane 080814: From the art crowd to a new crowd and an old row

Margate is in the news again. Described as “the formerly gritty seaside town”, Margate has made its way onto yet another list, coming in at No 4 on The Times newspaper’s “Ten places to be seen this summer”.

Tracey Emin is quoted: her hometown is “romantic, sexy and weird,” and the Turner Contemporary flagged up as “world-class”. It could almost have been written by my esteemed colleague, the Turner and Tracey and all-things-arty fan, Mike Don’t-Get-Me-Started Pearce, who will be thrilled that we can now expect “the art crowd to descend”. It’s a shame, for the sheer entertainment value, that it’s not his week…

Over in Ramsgate, good things are happening too. And not just on the streets, where The Phantom Poo Sprayer reports that its “Dog Dump Tally” (currently standing at 49 with a whopping 21 of the offending offerings turning up in one road alone) is currently “tailing off” (TPPS likes a pun), while expressing hope that the wayward dog owners are finally being shamed into clearing up after their charges. I should hope so. With the yachting fraternity due to sail into town on August 17 for Ramsgate Week, we want everything suitably ship-shape.

Lucky yachters will find an extra drinking venue for their delectation too. Last week saw the opening of The Arch, the latest venture from Miles Wiseman who first brought the eponymous Miles Bar to Harbour Parade. The new bar, set into the arches, on the undercliff, joins Clarey’s Chocolate Lounge as a welcome addition to the mainly marine-based businesses along Military Road.

My son, stating confidently that I would like The Arch because it does house champagne by the glass, marched me along to take a look (and pay for the drinks).

It really is very nice. Exposed brick, metal grilles, gentleman’s club-style leather seating, and sure enough, plenty of fizz (I had a second one).

I quiz Miles for the finer details. Open 11am – 11pm, later at weekends, wifi, food, drinks, coffee, homemade carrot cake, uninterrupted views of the harbour, large selection of bottled beers…

I think how to best summarise. “A cool and trendy bar?”

“No,” he says firmly. “It’s a talk bar rather than a loud bar.”

He points out the bar top made out of pool table slate, and the lights fashioned from gas bottles cut in half.

“What’s the USP then?” I ask.

“Me,” he grins. “Back from the dead.”

Back here in Broadstairs, the locals are braced for the start of Folk Week where we make our annual seamless divide into the Fors and Againsts.

Some of us grab our pewter pots, put the beads in our hair and go forth to dance in the street to the strains of Whisky In The Jar, alongside what my husband likes to refer to as the “hairy maths teachers from Barnsley”, while the others hoist up their indignant bosoms and become over-exercised about an influx of noisy youth and the ensuing sea of plastic cups (which last year were cleared with admirable speed by our refuse collection teams, almost at daybreak).

For those gritting their teeth and clucking, think of it this way: it’s all dosh for the town; it’s only for a week. And if you really can’t stand it, you could always take yourselves off to Margate. And prepare to be seen.

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You can read the original at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/Plain-Jane-art-crowd-new-crowd-old-row/story-22219041-detail/story.html

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