Give feet a chance

Give Feet a chance?

Or do I need a new pair?

Feet For Men at Amazon.co.uk - Low Prices on Feet For Men‎

Adwww.amazon.co.uk/feet+for+men‎

4.8  rating for amazon.co.uk

Check Out our Selection & Order Now. Free UK Delivery on Eligible Orders!

I bought some new shoes recently and this got me thinking about feet.

Now, I know lots of you will have pedometers, either stand alone, (keep up) or built into your mobile. Seemingly everybody is after the holy grail of 10,000 steps a day, that’s 10,000 times your foot crashes down, jarring the heel, the bones and muscles travelling up your legs. Probably in shoes designed to look good moving between desk and coffee machine.

Then there are the joggers among us, with better running shoes but pounding away on those poor feet, which are suffering even higher impacts. Footballers, rugby players, tennis buffs and fast bowlers, all putting long term stress on joints designed to avoid danger by running to safety, not three hour marathons.

I have heard the arguments that a regular level of activity is good for the heart, lungs and other internal bits and pieces. The problem is that my, far from scientific, observations are that there are distinct times in the urban human life cycle when our feet are tested and times when ‘normal’ use happens. As kids we run, jump and unselfconsciously enjoy our bodies. In teenage years we put away childish exuberance, become cerebral, inward looking, spotty, screen fixated, downright hormonally unsociable. Our still growing feet are in ill fitting trainers in constant danger of tripping over the fashionably untied laces.

A change occurs as the frightening and exciting world of discovering there is another sex leads to a more sporty lifestyle, feet are back in action. Local football muddy slides, university prestige, celebrity status gets the admiration, the mating ritual of the human being. Early morning runs continue after moving in together before hitting the brick wall of domesticity and career prospects. Children, the end of ‘me’ time and men’s feet get a rest, the bones get a bit set and the muscles slack.

Years flash by and the mid life crisis, “Am I still attractive to the opposite sex?” What works for you? A sexier car, a bigger bust, new clothes, visits to the local music scene. Or back to the jogging, the latest gear, trainers that cost the earth, clothing that wicks away that on-show sweat, a hand shaped drinking bottle, the latest ‘must have’ fitness watch. But those poor feet, neglected for years but now encased in the most ergonomically beautifully sport logo on Earth, crashing down every second, loaded with thirteen stone of unfit body.

But, it rains sometimes and it can be boringly cold at others, so let’s sign up for the gym, nice bodies, coffee bar, friendly muscled people to take the money by the hour. And the feet can take a rest from the running machine as there are so many other bits that need ‘toning’. Then there is something good on television, a meal out with friends, the kid’s school concert. The gym lasts less than the year’s pre paid subscription, and feet are relieved, only the nightly dog walk remains into older age.

Which brings me back to my new shoes. My feet have shrunk. Either that or shoe sizes have changed, I used to fit an eight now it is a seven. I have played fair with my feet, no jogging, no sports, (except swimming), no gym, just the dog walking. I tried the counting steps for a week just to see how many I did without trying, it averaged about 6,000 a day.  So why have my feet shrunk? Would they have stayed the same size if I had done all those sporty things?

Should I approach Amazon for free delivery on a new pair?

Thinking it through

This week's local paper contains a gem of a letter. An ardent Brexit fan had taken exception to the President of the European Union asserting that English was becoming less important in the EU, and delivering his speech in French.

The outrage of the correspondent would have been enough for most people,but he then went on to bypass reality by suggesting that a poor deal for the UK should lead to the UK imposing a ban on all Europeans speaking English.

Hold on. Let's try that again. Unless we get a good deal from Europe when we leave, the U.K. should ban the total population of the 27 EU countries from speaking English.

So, it could go something like this?

A sunlit cafe on the Boulevard St Michel, Paris. Two very obvious British tourists sit looking glumly at their cooling cups, wondering how the cups of tea they wanted had morphed into this glass of colourless liquid with a piece of lemon floating in it.

Each clutched a mobile phone, with their fingers hovering over the 'record' button.

"Why didn't they send me to Spain? "asked the lanky one. "I've been there. When I ask for a cup of tea I get a cup of tea, they understand English."

"I know, Stan. It's OK for them to understand, but it's our job to stop them speaking it." The rotund policeman from Suffolk was not at home in any city and Paris terrified him.

Meanwhile, across Europe similar scenes were being played out by some 15,000 UK police officers. Crime soared in the UK, whilst the Daily Mail demanded that EU nationals arriving in the UK be tested on their fluency in their native language before being allowed in.

"Et vous, le weekend?"

"Did you hear that, Oliver? 'Weekend' she said, as clear as day. That good looking blond, over there." He nodded his head towards a table near the pavement.

The woman's companion was replying, the word 'weekend' clearly heard by the appalled policemen.

"Do you think it's enough for us to take action, Stan?"

"Not sure, better phone Inspector Barrage for advice."

As Stan felt for his security phone he notice two blue dots on his jacket. He attempted to brush them off, but they appeared on the back of his hand.

"Attention gentlemen. This is the Police. Put your hands on the table. Slowly."

As they obeyed, four very large black-uniformed men with balaclavas and huge guns appeared, handcuffed them and led them away.

"You can't do this, we're English Language Protection Officers."

The man looked up from his desk. "I know. We have been listening to you since the patron at the cafe told us about you acting suspiciously. Apart from the fact that your UK Acts of Parliament have no legality in the EU, your choice, remember? Let me ask you this.  If my officers had asked you in French to put your hands on the table, would you have understood and obeyed?  No? Well then, my officers would have shot you. Good job some of us speak English, huh?"

In the next year over 13,000 UK police officers were deported from EU countries for extremism. The other two thousand were either in jail or had claimed asylum.

This has been false news, (Ooops, almost said Fox News), based on a real event.

Will the next generation write?

Will the next generation need to bother to write? 

This is a serious question. With the major advances in speech to text recognition it has to be asked whether anyone will need to actually put pen to paper or fingers to word processor in the future. That's not to say that we shouldn't have to read, reading is entirely different from the writing process, on the other hand does the one depend on the other? 

  It's not as though this is a brand new idea. Dictation to a secretary was, for many years, much faster for business communication than writing something out by hand and passing it to the typing pool, does anyone remember typing pools? But it wasn't only business, Winston Churchill dictated his speeches, many of the aristocratic writers had secretaries who they dictated to directly, although few  managed the kilograms of book weight each year of Barbara Cartland. 

So who does write these days? Or, to put it another way, who is likely to continue writing in the next 20 years if speech recognition software gets that much better? For writers the first draft is probably scrappy anyway so speaking it and making some minor alterations on the way is probably going to be just about as perfect as would be done by typing it, but without the hassle. It could even be true that the first draft is better if it is spoken, because we are always advised to read our work out loud to see where it doesn't work properly. Like what that didn't. 

There are dangers of course. Predictive text can be a curse to a writer. Consider Shakespeare's famous line " out damned spot". Would he have allowed "clear up this despicable Mark"? Or, the three witches," fire burns out the Hubble". On the other hand, predictive text might inject more sense into some of President Trump's tweets. 

But let's look forward to the new generation of school children. Already they have exams where all they have to do is tick one of four boxes to answer. Why bother with written tests? Surely it would be easier to let them dictate an answer, and will probably improve their ability to speak English that other people can understand. So imagine a classroom where the teacher says "please hurry up and speak" rather than "be quiet". 

But, whoever does the writing they will always have to edit it afterwards, so I suppose it's a bit like maths, if you don't have any idea of what should come out of a calculator it's a waste of time having a calculator. In either case a dot in the wrong place can change the whole meaning. 

We are not there with voice recognition. I wrote this using a free programme, and had to revise nearly every sentence.

Which side of my fence do you fall on?

Down with water

I remember being told that water runs down a plughole clockwise in the Northern Hemisphere and anti clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere. But recently I read that this was a load of twaddle, poppycock and probably, misspoken. This despite the fact that I have seen a video on YouTube where a man living astride the Equator, demonstrated to tourists that moving a bowl with a plughole from one side to the other changed the direction of the water flow.

Now, I believe in science, mostly, (don't get me started on which are 'good' or 'bad' foods this month), so if science says it doesn't happen then I should believe that the tourists are pouring money down the drain, whichever way it flows.

But, it's such a good story that I want to believe it is true, and much more pleasant than having swallowed thousands of baby spiders every year, which I am happy for the scientists to disprove.So, despite my best efforts, I'm still stuck on the fence on this one.